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wifelinkmtg · 1 year

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TUMBLR POST EDITOR WON'T LET ME TITLE THIS POST ANYMORE SO I GUESS THIS IS THE TITLE NOW. WEBBED SITE INNIT

So let's say you grew up in the nineties and that The Lion King was an important movie to you. Let's say that the character of Scar - snarling, ambitious, condescending, effeminate Scar - stirred feelings in you which you had no words for as a child. And then let's say, many years later, you're talking about it with a college friend, and you say something like, "oh man, I think Scar was some sort of gay awakening for me," and she fixes you with this level stare and says, "Scar was a fascist. What's the matter with you?"

The immediate feeling is not unlike missing a step: hang on, what's happening, what did I miss? You knew there were goose-stepping hyenas in "Be Prepared," but you didn't think it mattered that much. He's the bad guy, after all, and the movie's just pointing it out. Your friend says it's more than that: the visuals of the song are directly referencing the Nuremberg rallies. They're practically an homage to Riefenstahl. This was your sexual awakening? Is this why you're so into peaked caps and leather, then? Subliminal nazi kink, perhaps?

And then one of your other friends cuts in. "Hold up," he says, "let's think about what Scar actually did in the movie. He organized a group of racialized outcasts and led them against a predatory monarchy. Why are you so keen to defend their hereditary rule? Scar's the good guy here." The conversation immediately descends into a verbal slap fight about who the real bad guy is, whether Scar's regime was actually responsible for the ecological devastation of the Pride Lands, whether the hyenas actually count as "racialized" because James Earl Jones voiced Mufasa after all. Your Catholic friend starts saying some strange and frankly concerning shit about Natural Law. Someone brings The Lion King 2 into it. You leave the conversation feeling a little bit lost and a little bit anxious. What were we even talking about?

INTRODUCING: THE DITCH

There is a way of reading texts which I'm afraid is pervasive, which has as its most classical expression the smug obsession with trivia and minutiae you find in a certain vein of comic book fan. "Who was the first Green Lantern? What was his weakness? Do you even know the Green Lantern Oath?" It eschews the subjective in favor of definitively knowable fact. You can't argue with this guy that, say, Alan Scott shouldn't really count as the first Green Lantern because his whole deal is so radically different from the Hal Jordan/John Stewart/Guy Gardner Corps-era Lanterns, because this guy will simply say "but he's called Green Lantern. Says so right on the cover. Checkmate." This approach to reading a text is fundamentally 1) emotionally detached (there's a reason the joke goes, oh you like X band? name three of their songs - and not, which of their songs means the most to you? which of them came into your life at exactly the right moment to tell you exactly what you needed to hear just then?) and 2) defensive. It's a stance that is designed not to lose arguments. It says so right on the cover. Checkmate.

And then you get the guys who are like "well obviously Bruce Wayne could do far more as a billionaire to solve societal problems by using his tremendous wealth to address systemic issues instead of dressing up as a bat and punching mental patients in the head," and these guys have half a point but they're basically in the same ditch butting heads with the "well, actually" guys, and can we not simply extricate ourselves from the ditch entirely?

So, okay, let's return to our initial example. Scar is portrayed using Nazi iconography - the goose-stepping, the monumentality, the Nuremberg Lichtdom. He is also flamboyant and effete. He unifies and leads a group of downtrodden exiles to overthrow an absolute monarch. He's also a self-serving despot on whose rule Heaven Itself turns its back. You can't reconcile these things from within the ditch - or if you can, the attempt is likely to be ad-hoc supposition and duct tape.

Instead, let's ask ourselves what perspective The Lion King is coming from. What does it say is true about the world? What are its precepts, its axioms?

There is a natural hierarchical order to the world. This is just and righteous and the way of things, and attempts to overthrow this order will be punished severely by the world itself.

Fascism is what happens when evil men attempt to usurp this natural order with the aid of a group or groups of people who refuse to accept their place in the order.

There exists an alternative to defending and adhering to one's place in the natural order - it consists only of selfish spineless apathy.

Manliness is an essential quality of a just ruler. Unmanliness renders a person unfit for rule, and often resentful and dangerous as well.

And isn't that interesting, laid out like that? It renders the entire argument about the movie irrelevant (except for whatever your Catholic friend was on about, since his understanding of the world seems to line up with the above precepts weirdly well.) It's meaningless to argue about whether Scar was a secret hero or a fascist, when the movie doesn't understand fascism and has a damn-near alien view of what good and evil are.

There's always gonna be someone who, having read this far, wants to reply, "so, what? The Lion King is a bad movie and the people who made it were homophobes and also American monarchists, somehow? And anyone who likes it is also some sort of gay-bashing crypto-authoritarian?" To which I have to reply, man, c'mon, get out of the ditch. You're no good to anyone in there. Take my hand. I'm going to pull on three. One... two...

SO PHYREXIA [PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE, GROANS]

We're talking about everyone's favorite ichor-drooling surgery monsters again because there was a bit in my ~*~seminal~*~ essay Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia which seemed to give a number of readers quite a bit of trouble: namely, the idea that while Phyrexia is textually fascist, their aesthetic is incompatible with real-world fascism, and further, that this aesthetic incompatibility in some way outweighs the ways in which they act like a fascist nation in terms of how we think of them. I'll take responsibility here: I don't think that point is at all clear or well-argued in that essay. What I was trying to articulate was that the text of Magic: the Gathering very much wants Phyrexia to be supremely evil and dangerous fascists, because that makes for effective antagonists, but in the process of constructing that, it's accidentally encoded a whole bunch of fascinating presuppositions that end up working at cross-purposes with its apparent aim. That's... not that much clearer, is it? Hmm. Why don't I just show you what I mean?

Atraxa, Grand Unifier (art by Marta Nael)

In "Beneath Eyes Unblinking," one of the March of the Machine stories by K. Arsenault Rivera, there's a fascinating and I think revealing passage in which Atraxa (big-deal Phyrexianized angel and Elesh Norn's lieutenant) has a run-in with an art museum in New Capenna. The first thing I want to talk about is that, in this passage, Atraxa has no understanding of the concept of "beauty". A great deal of space in such a rushed storyline is devoted to her trying to puzzle out what beauty means and interrogating the minds of her recently-compleated Capennan aesthetes to try and understand it. In the end, she is unable to conceive of beauty except as "wrongness," as anathema.

So my first question is, why doesn't Atraxa have any idea of beauty? This is nonsense, right? We could point to a previous story, "A Garden of Flesh," by Lora Gray, in which Elesh Norn explicitly thinks in terms of beauty, but that's a little bit ditchbound, isn't it? The better argument is to simply look at Phyrexian bodies, at the Phyrexian landscape, all of which looks the way it does on purpose, all of which has been shaped in accordance with the very real aesthetic preferences of Phyrexians. How you could look at the Fair Basilica and not understand that Phyrexians most definitely have an idea of beauty, even if you personally disagree with it, is baffling. This is a lot like the canonical assertion that Phyrexians lack souls, which is both contradicted elsewhere in canon and essentially meaningless, given Magic's unwillingness or inability to articulate what a soul is in its setting, and as with this, it seems the goal is simply to dehumanize Phyrexians, to render them alien, even at the cost of incoherence or internal contradiction.

Atraxa's progress through the museum is fascinating. It evokes the 1937 Nazi exhibit on "degenerate art" in Munich, but not at all cleanly. The first exhibit, which is of representational art, she angrily destroys for being too individualistic (a point of dissonance with the European fascist movements of the 20th century, which formed in direct antagonism to communism.) The second exhibit, filled with abstract paintings and sculptures, she destroys even more angrily for having no conceivable use (this is much more in line with the Nazi idea of "degenerate art", so well done there.) The third exhibit is filled with war trophies and reconstructions from a failed Phyrexian invasion of Capenna many years prior, which she is angriest of all with (and fair enough, I suppose.) But then, after she's done completely trashing the place, she spots a number of angel statues on the cathedral across the plaza, and she goes apeshit. In a fugue of white-hot rage, she pulverizes the angel heads, and here is where I have to ask my second question:

Why angels? If you are trying to invoke fascist attitudes toward art, big statues of angels are precisely the wrong thing for your fascist analogues to hate. Fascists love monumental, heroic representations of superhuman perfection. It's practically their whole aesthetic deal. I understand that we're foreshadowing the imminent defeat of Phyrexia at the hands of legions of angels and a multiversal proliferation of angel juice, but that just leads to the exact same question: why angels? To the best of my knowledge, the Phyrexian weakness to New Capennan angel juice is something invented for this storyline. They have, after all, been happily compleating angels since 1997. We could talk about the in-universe justification for why Halo specifically is so potent, but I don't remember what that justification is, and also don't care. Let's not jump back in the ditch, please. The point is, someone decided that this time, Phyrexia would be defeated by an angelic host, and what does that mean? What is the text trying to say? What are its precepts and axioms?

Let me ask you a question: how many physically disabled angels are there in Magic: the Gathering? How about transsexual angels? How many angels are there, on all of the cards that have ever been printed for Magic: the Gathering, that are even just a bit ugly? Do you get it yet? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?

SPELLING IT OUT FOR YOU

There is a kind of body which is bad. It is bad because it has been significantly altered from its natural state, and it is bad because it is repellent to our aesthetic sensibilities.

The bad kind of body is contagious. It spreads through contact. Sometimes people we love are infected, and then they become the bad kind of body too.

There is a kind of body which is good. It is good because it is pleasing to our aesthetic sensibilities, and it is good because it is unaltered from its (super)natural state.

A happy ending is when all the good bodies destroy or drive into hiding all of the bad bodies. A happy ending is when the bad bodies of the people we love are forcibly returned to being the good kind of body.

Do you get it now?

ENDNOTES

It's worth noting that the ditch is very similar to the white American Evangelical hermeneutics of "the Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it," the defensive chapter-and-verse-or-it-didn't-happen approach to reading a text, what Fred Clark of slacktivist calls "concordance-ism". I don't think that's accidental. We stand underneath centuries of people reading the Bible very poorly - how could that not affect how we read things today? We are participants in history whether we like it or not.

I sincerely hope I haven't come across as condescending in this essay. Close reading is legitimately difficult! They teach college courses on this stuff! And while it is frustrating to have my close readings interrogated by people who... aren't doing that, like. I do get it. I find myself back in the ditch all the time. This stuff is hard. It is also, sorry, crucial if you intend to say something about a text that's worth saying.

I also hope I've communicated clearly here. Magic story is sufficiently incoherent that trying to develop a thesis about it often feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. If anyone has questions, please ask them! And thank you for reading. Next time, we'll probably do the new Eldraine set.

#phyrexia #not defining the ditch except by implication #thanks to all the very smart vorthoi on the flavor text discord server for helping me work through my thoughts on fascism and phyrexia #this is technically the march of the machine review also #or as much of one as i care to do

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murdrdocs · 8 months

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FOOLISH LOVERS. luke castellan

description. luke castellan has betrayed camp half blood. luke castellan has made an enemy out of those around you. and unfortunately, luke castellan has always held a place in your heart that you can't close off. at least, not until you meet with him one final time.

includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, daughter of hypnos reader, oral (f and m receiving), brief anal rimming (f receiving), implied p n v, dreamscape sex again, angst galore, some arguing, references to pjo ep 8. inspo from wicked game by chris isaak

wc: 5.8k+

a/n: a dreamcatcher: daughter of the god of dreams installment.

Before you can realize the change, you’re standing on a hill.

It takes you a second to notice, but the area is much like your dreamscape. Low, waving blades of grass that travel through the air with the wind brushing against your bare ankles. The ocean is loud and to your right, down beneath a steep cliff. From just a quick glance, you see a storm brewing off into the distance. The water swirls angrily as if it’s ready to disrupt anything that dares to come into its path.

You can’t help but think about the betrayed son of the sea god back in reality who surely feels the same.

When you take your eyes away from the entrancing scenery of the ocean, you notice a cabin directly in front of you. It’s small, and made from long wooden logs, although there isn’t a forest nearby to identify the source of the frame. The exterior is slightly shabby, appearing manmade with a few imperfections.

It’s not on a comparable scale to the cabins back at Camp Half-Blood, but something about it feels cozy. It gives implications of a simpler life. Maybe what summer camp could have been if you weren’t the offspring of a god.

That and the clouds rumbling with warnings of an approaching storm is what encourages you to seek refuge in the four walls.

Step by step, you don’t fail to notice how a focus subject has yet to appear.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and you push the slab of wood open as you wonder who’s dream you could have been pulled into tonight.

You haven’t even stepped foot over the threshold, you have started to convince yourself that this is the dream of the son of the sea god, and then someone speaks.

“Hey.”

You stop.

Your foot hovers for a second before you place it back beside the other.

That voice. You hadn’t heard it for months now, but you know it. Day after day, you lay at night with your eyes closed, cementing the memory of the way he spoke and how he sounded as he laughed at your jokes into your mind. Forcing yourself to recall the inflections in his tone as he teased you, and how his words flattened out and got hard when he gave orders to yourself and others. And then, completely involuntarily, you would force yourself to pick through every single intonation and word that you could remember, attempting to find signs. Any hints or clues that Luke Castellan wasn’t the person he made himself out to be.

Each night, you grapple with the fact that you couldn’t find any clues. You tried to reconcile with your blindness, all while telling yourself that you could have attempted to prevent it all.

But hearing his voice now, none of that returns. Unexpectedly, your body floods with warmth.

Luke sits on a small loveseat. The shape of it is a bit of a blur at first, but you blink and it cleans up to present a busy patterned textile couch. It’s well loved, there are a few tears in the bottom of the fabric at the back, and if you’re smelling it correctly, there’s a slight waft of cigarette smoke.

Strangely enough, it’s inviting.

You hate to admit it to yourself, but the boy sitting at one end of it makes it even more inviting.

You step into the cabin and close the door behind you.

“Hey, Luke.”

He turns around to face you at the sound of your voice. You sound stronger than you expected. More casual, too.

You realize that he’d been looking out a large set of windows before facing you. There’s only two but they take up most of the small wall. Outside is a perfect view of the land you’d just come from; bright green grass in the foreground and deep blue salt water off into the distance.

Luke stares at you.

The cabin is a little dark—there’s a lamp in the far corner that illuminates the room, washing out the otherwise blue light from outside—but you think his eyes are shining. As if there’s unshed tears barely held within them.

He smiles at you. It’s soft and almost mournful.

You should leave.

You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Luke at all, even if it is within a dreamscape. You couldn’t trust yourself in a room with him, especially with the things the two of you used to do when you were in dreamscapes alone.

Just looking at him reminds you of all of those times. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. The feeling of his muscles beneath your inquisitive hands. The deep and smooth sound of his voice. The way everything felt so real and so tangible as he rocked into you, and then as euphoria swept over your bodies you felt so infinite and surreal.

Your teeth find your lower lip. Your body urges you to get closer to Luke. Stubbornly, you stay in your spot.

“What d’you think?” He lifts a finger and circles it around in the air. Your eyes lift and you finally take in the rest of the cabin.

The main room is spacious, but comfortable. Lightly furnished with hardwood floors. Though almost every surface is covered in some sort of rug, most of them persian. There’s a small kitchen to your left, and then the living area that Luke sits in on the right. There’s a few bookshelves but there aren’t many books on them, and there’s a fireplace that looks to have never been used before. A few picture frames sit on the mantle of the fireplace, but from afar they just appear to be showcasing blobs of people without any distinctive features to identify an identity.

Admittedly, for this to be the created dreamscape of the son of a messenger, it’s impressive.

You tell him as such.

This time, Luke’s smile is appreciative.

“Means a lot coming from you. Especially with the things you can create.”

Your skin heats up and you block the memories out of your head before they can firmly cement themselves once more.

“You might have me beat, Castellan. Giving me a run for my money.”

You don’t know why you decide to fall into the old routine with him. Maybe it’s because you can’t push Luke away for the life of you. He was once your friend and so much more at the same time. It’s impossible for you to completely forget the times you shared together.

Maybe it’s the home making you feel this way.

How comfortable it feels. How protective it is.

You’ve spent weeks pulled into unfortunate dreams. Nightmares have plagued even the toughest minds of Camp Half Blood as of late, and you’ve been unable to fortify your own mind enough to prevent slipping into the mind of others. Which has left you to fight against unbeatable monsters, fortify the barriers of Camp only to have them knocked down by Zeus over and over again, watch those you love die in horrible battles, and much much more.

In comparison, there is the possibility of a simple conversation with Luke Castellan giving you what you’d been desperately missing even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself: Luke’s company.

It’s how you reason with yourself whenever you take a seat atop the cushion of the couch. Instantly, it feels as if you’ve never truly known comfort before. This couch conforms to the curves of your body. You lean back against it, pull your feet up with you, and you quickly decide to stay a little while longer.

Up close, Luke looks even prettier than you remember. Dark curly hair a little more grown out, unruly and hanging over his forehead like low hanging fruit, begging for you to latch onto it. His face looks a little slimmer as if he’s lost weight, and the angular planes of his cheekbones and jawline accentuates the dark shadow he has along his chin. The mark of facial hair that was previously present. Beneath his clothes—a faded black, almost gray hoodie, and black sweatpants—he appears larger. His shoulders wider, his neck thicker, his wrist and hands veiner.

(Compared to his covered body, you feel bare in nothing but long socks, and a matching shorts and tank top set.)

He looks virtually the same, but his aura is different. There’s more confidence in him, a larger ego, glory even, that wasn’t there the last time you’d seen him. You know what has caused the change, and it should be something you despise. But his new glory makes him more attractive. It dries out your tongue and lodges something in your throat, pushing it further down until it sits heavy in your stomach.

“Thought this could be our new spot.” Luke speaks softly, almost in a scared whisper, as if he fears that you’ll reject him.

(You don’t know if you could ever reject Luke)

Your eyebrows furrow. “Our spot?” Confusion drips off of your words.

Luke nods once. He licks over his lips and you’re quick to peel your eyes away from the sight and back to his eyes. That’s not helping you much either so you instead try to figure out what books are on the shelves afar.

Since the little amount of time that has passed, there have been a few more added. From the ones that have already been there, the titles are too far away, too dream disoriented, and your dyslexia hasn’t escaped this dream, but you think you find novels on Seeing. Guides on how to decipher the visions that come to humans, or how to channel them.

You focus back on Luke.

“Yeah. Like the old bedroom. But a little more …” he hesitates to find the word then lands on, “Casual.”

The bedroom.

Your lower stomach stirs at the mention of it. The large bed, how warm it always was in there, the cold leather of the couch, the things the two of you did to each other on all surfaces.

This spot is definitely a lot more casual. You’re not instantly compelled to straddle Luke here, although you do have a few thoughts about throwing your legs over his right now and reconnecting in ways you’ve missed since he left.

So badly do you want to agree. This could be the one place where you get to experience what you’ve been missing without anyone else knowing. This is the only place where you can see Luke without anyone else knowing.

But it’s wrong.

He’s the cause of all of this. He’s caused the nightmares you’ve been pulled into. He has betrayed everyone on levels you could have never imagined. And who’s to say that he won’t betray you again.

“We won’t need a ‘spot’, Luke.” Briefly, his eyes flash as if he’s hurt but in your eyes, Luke has proven himself to be a formidable actor as of late so you ignore it. “This is a one time thing.”

A moment passes. And then another.

You turn to watch the sea out in the distance. It appears as if the ocean has lulled for the time being. The sky is still dark, but it has yet to deepen in color.

Luke takes a breath and you give him your attention again.

“Why won’t you join me?”

His eyes flash betrayal, his lips twist into something sorrowful.

Your answer comes easy. The same one you’ve told yourself over and over again, night by night when you considered reaching out to him.

“Because it’s not right, Luke.”

When he stands, his newfound power becomes even more clear. It leaks from his pores, spews from his mouth with his words.

“How could it be ‘wrong’ when you feel the same. All that time you spent telling me about your father. How neglected you felt. What happened to that?”

Your head shakes. You stand, too, evening out the field for both of you.

“This is not what I meant. I–” The words don’t find you. Luke takes notice.

“You what? Love your father? Love the gods? After how they treat you. How they treat us.”

“Don’t say ‘us’. We aren’t together, Luke.”

That same look flashes in his eyes once more. He takes a step forward, you take one back.

He doesn’t say anything. You watch his hand reach behind his back.

“What, are you gonna fight me like you did with Percy?”

His head shakes. His eyes harden. He pulls his hand back and it comes up empty.

“He attacked first.”

Your voice starts to rise. “And you tried to kill him, Luke. He’s twelve. What don’t you understand about that? ”

“Twelve and a forbidden child. In the grand scheme of things, his age doesn’t matter. He’s powerful. More powerful than both of us combined.”

“So is that why you tried to kill him? Because he’s a threat?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Not here. Not now.”

“Yeah? Well then when? And where? Because this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, Luke.”

“Okay.”

Your eyebrows raise. Disbelief paints over your features. You’d expected more of a fight. For Luke to disagree or attempt to convince you to return to him a few more times after this. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe you wanted him to convince you that you needed him. Maybe you wanted to hear him tell you that he needed you.

Either way, your reply is the same as his.

“Okay.” You turn and take the few steps it takes to get to the door.

Your chest heaves with large gulps of air in and small breaths of letting them out. Your body is buzzing, the same feeling you would get before sparring with Luke. The same feeling you would get before your bodies joined together.

You tell yourself to reach out for the door handle. You tell yourself to lift your arm, connect your hand with the metal, and pull it open. You tell yourself to return to your own dreamscape, maybe even reality, and forget any of this ever happened.

Maybe you would’ve done it if Luke hadn’t spoken.

“You can walk out that door but that won’t change how you truly feel.”

He doesn’t add on. You don’t move.

“And how do I feel?”

The adrenaline is overwhelming you. You need to expel it out of your body somehow.

As Luke is speaking, you’re already approaching him.

“I’m sure I don’t need to answer that for you.”

When he speaks, it’s with arrogance. His confidence is heavily laced in his words, overflowing until it drips out into the air and lodges in your chest. Running through your body and down to your fingertips. It annoys you, makes you want to battle it out with him in a fight you’re sure to lose.

Your feet thud against the floor with each step until you’re close enough to cup his cheeks in both of your hands and pull his face down to yours.

There’s no hesitation in the kiss from either side. As if both of you were expecting it to happen eventually.

Luke kisses you back vehemently, his lips messily sliding against yours as he presses into the center of your back, accentuating the curve and drawing your chest into his. His free hand glides down your side to your hips. He circles to your back, dragging his palm down to rest over the curve of your ass. He grips the flesh through the soft fabric of your shorts, digging his blunt nails in before continuing his hand—open palmed—down to grip the back of your thigh.

His other hand mirrors his previous actions until he has a hand on either thigh. He tugs once, and you collaborate to wrap your legs around his waist and hook your ankles behind his back. Your hands dig into his hair, and your core tightens as you prepare to continue holding yourself up. But Luke takes most of the load.

He places his hands on your bottom to keep you lifted. You expect him to walk you back to the couch, or maybe pin you to a wall. But he doesn’t.

He holds you against him in the center of the living room, kissing you like he’ll never get to kiss you again. You don’t fail to realize how he likely won’t.

His tongue slides against yours, your teeth knock together at least twice, both of you refuse to pull away to breathe which results in heavy exhales through your noses against the skin of the other cheek.

While it may be uncoordinated, it’s not primal.

There’s copious amounts of longing beneath each pass of your tongues against each other. There’s human emotion behind the way you tug on his hair and how he uses one hand to pull your hips closer to him. There’s raw longing in the soft sighs and gasps you both let out into the other’s mouth, taking it in and replicating the noises over and over again.

When you finally do part, it’s with a wet, pronounced smack.

“Luke,” you gasp his name before you can realize it’s happening. One of your hands moves from his hair to hold his cheek. Your fingers spread around his ear and your thumb probes into his jaw.

He hums, his eyes still shut.

“I want you,” you admit.

You watch the smile spread across his lips, his eyes flickering open to look into your soul.

“Took you long enough to admit it.”

You suck your teeth and roll your eyes. Your other hand, previously resting on his shoulder, slaps his bicep.

“Don’t be an asshole about it.”

He laughs as he apologizes, knocking his forehead against yours. “Sorry, pretty girl.”

He takes a moment.

When he speaks, his eyes are nothing but earnest. His words are slow and careful, despite how simple they are. They fill your chest with warmth. They comfort you, possibly in slight delusion as you instantly believe him without caring about what repercussions his promise could come with.

“You have me. Always have. Always will.”

You’re quick to surge forward.

Luke is quick to reciprocate.

This time, he walks you back to the couch. He settles you on it carefully, not lifting his hands from your bottom until you’re seated securely along the loveseat and pulled to the edge by his hands hooked under your knees.

His own knees dig into the rug beneath the furniture. His head is tipped up to continue kissing you, this one lacking the over enthusiasm from before. Now, he takes his time, having confessed his desire to be with you as long as you’ll let him.

It’s not long until he pulls away and trails his lips down, kissing along your decollete, not stopping when he comes in contact with the fabric of your small shirt. He presses his lips into the fabric firmly, as if he’s trying to reach your skin beneath the layer.

You feel the pressure he has beneath each kiss as he trails down, and you arch into his touch, excitement spreading through your lower half whenever Luke digs his fingers into the elastic of your shorts and pulls them off of your legs before he even reaches there.

You’re quick to leave your legs open, even going as far as to spread them a little more to give Luke more room.

His wide shoulders fill the space. They nudge against your knees and instead of letting you spread your legs even more, he throws them over his shoulders, effectively caging himself in with your limbs.

If the small smile on his face is anything to go by, he’s happy about his position.

You’re still wearing your panties. Your hands trail down to get rid of them, but Luke stops you with a hand on your lower abdomen.

“Let me,” he tells you, voice soft and light.

You remove your hands and do as told. It’s a simple system you have worked out, Luke slowly but surely working his way down to where you want him. He's eager, and you know he wants himself there as much as you do.

It’s strange what desire could make you do.

You’ve never been anything but loyal to Camp Half-Blood. To both of your parents. And in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t allow yourself to do this.

But you’ll simply have a final time with Luke. That’s it. Sharing your body with him, and having his body shared with you, won’t make you forget his transgressions.

As your panties are pulled off of your legs, and your skin is once again placed above the thick fabric on the shoulders of his sweatshirt, you tell yourself that this won’t change anything.

You’ll never be able to forget what he has done. What he’s planning to do.

Except, perhaps, you can push it aside for as long as you’ll have to while you let yourself get lost in his touch.

The first pass of his tongue is a long stripe between your folds. He spreads you open with his thumbs, pulling at the skin on either side to expose your center. Then he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your clit.

He puckers his lips, sucking twice before flicking his tongue against the bud.

Your hands card through his hair, ignoring the way your fingers get stuck on a few stubborn curls that refuse to separate in favor of grounding yourself. It feels too good, and you haven’t been in this position for too long. There’s nothing you fear more right now than getting too lost and waking up in the real world before you’re even satisfied.

Luke brings his attention back down to your entrance where he laps up what you’ve been leaking. He groans, peeling his mouth away and you stare down at him, entranced by how grateful he looks.

Eyes closed, face completely relaxed, his scar laid flat against his cheek, his pink lips parted and glistening.

He looks ethereal. The sight is addicting.

“Missed this so much,” he admits, tongue flickering out to lick the remnants of your arousal off of his lips.

You feel the same, but you refuse to tell him that. Instead, you scrape your nails at his scalp lightly and shuffle your hips, hoping that alone is enough to capture Luke’s attention again.

Either he catches the memo or he had the same idea as you because his lips are right back between your legs.

You’d expected him to behave like a man starved, licking and sucking your cunt like you would disappear any moment. Instead, he takes his time with you. He utilizes the best part about being in a dreamscape: the lack of concrete time.

He savors the taste of your cunt, and the little sounds you make. His fingers press into the tops of your thighs as he holds them down against his shoulders to prevent you from squirming. His nose nudges against your clit and digs into the short hair you have on your mound.

He presses his tongue everywhere that he can, sometimes even sliding further down to rim areas still unexplored. Each time, you would tense up just a little less, until eventually you were trying to subtly urge his head further down for him to do it just one more time.

And when he does, that’s when the coil in your lower belly gets as tight as it could get, just before snapping from the tension. You would have warned him. Or, maybe you did. You were so focused on getting there that any words that came out of your mouth weren’t even considered. You weren’t aware of anything other than your mouth moving at the same speed as your hips as you dragged your cunt against Luke’s face, using him to guide your orgasm to full completion.

As soon as your hips stop twitching you swing your legs off of his shoulders and slide to the floor beside him. You pull your shirt off, then do the same for Luke, throwing both of your tops off to the side.

Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing another layer beneath the sweatshirt, allowing you to run your palms down his chest, feeling the familiar definition along his abdomen.

You sit in front of him with your legs folded underneath you, and since he’s on his haunches, he towers over you just a bit. You have to tilt your head up to kiss at his jaw and neck, your hands busying themselves with urging his sweatpants off of his hips.

Luke does the rest of the job for you, hesitantly pulling away from your touch to stand and slide his sweatpants off of his legs himself. You’re left on the ground, hands politely resting in your lap while you stare up at Luke with wide eyes.

He slowly reveals more and more of his legs until he’s wearing nothing but his briefs. They hug him well, like they always have. A prominent outline of the muscle definition in his thighs, elastic waistband hanging low enough on his hips for you to see the ‘V’ that connects his hips and abdomen. And of course, the tight material reveals the prominent boner confined within the crotch of his briefs.

You want to reach up and palm him. You want to pull the final layer off of him. You want to take his cock into your mouth and relax with the heavy and warm feeling of him against your tongue.

But you decide to be patient. And it’s worth it.

Luke slides his briefs off himself, never breaking eye contact with you as he throws them to join the rest of your clothing. His stare is strong and heavy as he spits into his hand and puts his dick into the same place, wrapping his palm around the center of it and stroking a few times.

There’s the prettiest, most picturesque bead of precum at the tip and you’re practically salivating just looking at it, praying deep down that Luke doesn’t run his hand over it so you can have it for yourself.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Luke takes a step closer, holding the base of his cock right in front of your face, allowing you to get the perfect view of how his tip is a light pink around the almost clear drop of precum.

“You want?” he asks you simply, smiling a bit when you nod eagerly. “Then open.”

You’re quick to do as told, lacking any shame whenever you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. As soon as Luke presses his tip to your muscle, you wrap your lips around him and eagerly suck him clean.

Another good thing about the dreamscape is that everything either tastes like absolutely nothing, or like pure honey. And when you’re with Luke, things are usually the latter.

You start to get lost in it, enthusiastically beginning to suck Luke off even though you were only meant to be getting a taste.

You can see that Luke is close to commenting on it. His eyes shine like they do before he has something to say, but just when his lips part and he takes a breath to speak, you hollow your cheeks and sink as far down him as you can and any words he could have conjured up are suddenly gone.

He lets you do what you want, eyes fluttering shut and one large hand cupping the back of your head as you continue to suck him off. He lets out the smallest noises, pretty grunts and groans and sighs.

Luke was clearly just as wound up as you were. Within a couple of minutes he’s already starting to spew out praises like he does when he’s close. Some of them are fragments, broken words strung together in incomplete sentences.

“So … doing so .. you’re–” when you swirl your tongue at the tip and tease his balls just a bit.

“Gods, you’re so good at this,” when you jerk the majority of his dick with one hand and focus your mouth on his tip with the other.

“Close. So close. Almost there, dove” when you take all of him into your mouth once more, throat molding around the definite shape of him.

And when he cums down your throat, you’re so satisfied that you can’t help but moan unabashedly along with him.

You’ve only just swallowed his cum before his cock is pulled out of your mouth and he’s back on his knees in front of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you into his lap, laying his head on your chest and just letting himself be.

Just existing.

After a couple of minutes, you stop expecting him to speak and decide to just exist too. Your breathing eventually matches up, in and out, in and out, over and over again in tandem. Outside, rain starts to thud against the roof of the small home. Distantly, there’s the faint sound of thunder, and you’re sure the ocean is swirling angrily.

None of that matters, though. You’ll be left to decipher the metaphorical meanings of it all later, when you aren’t coexisting in the shared warmth from you and Luke.

When he isn’t kissing the tops of your breasts and holding you securely in his arms.

Eventually, Luke does break the silence. His voice is low when he does, both in volume and tone.

“Can I have you? Just one final time?”

He talks into your skin without looking directly at you. But as you start to respond, you cup his cheeks and force him to look at you.

The entire time, you’ve been fighting this battle. Knowing you wanted Luke, knowing you wanted to be with Luke, but also knowing it was wrong. All of it was wrong.

But right here, right now, you let go. You nod unashamedly. You kiss his forehead then the tip of his nose then his lips, before landing on the bottom end of his scar.

You tell him, “Yes. Of course, Luke”, as if he didn’t even have to ask in the first place.

And truthfully, you don’t think he did.

‎

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Luke is in the middle of pulling his sweatshirt back over his head when you speak. There’s a second where the fabric is hiding his face, slowly revealing the curls at the top of his head, then his dark eyebrows, and finally his eyes. They look as they have the entire time: despondent.

“I know you didn’t. Neither did I.” You have a feeling that neither of you are speaking about the same specific thing, but the overlap in your conditions is so wide that you don’t bother correcting him.

He reaches behind his back once more and when he pulls his hand back around, he has his camp necklace dangling from his fingers. He undoes the knot, and holds it open, waiting, until finally you turn around and let him delicately tie it around your neck.

Your hand touches the beads. You want to thank him, but it doesn’t feel right.

Instead, your lips twist into what you hope comes off as a thankful smile when you turn around. When Luke replicates it, you feel a little better.

There’s a moment, just a brief moment there where you’re both staring at each other and the memory of Luke’s hands and lips and tongue and his everything engrossing you, taking your everything and combining them together, is still fresh on your mind. The warmth of his eyes and the warmth of his camp necklace around your throat heals you. And you consider that your feelings for Luke were stronger than you ever forced yourself to acknowledge.

He was more than a close friend to you. More than someone you looked up to. More than someone you shared your body with in the dreamscape.

He was more.

It feels unfair for you to have these emotions. The wrongness of it all—your feelings for Luke Castellan, how he’d turned out—has rage fueling deep in your gut. With no one else to blame it on, you can’t help but briefly curse the gods.

For they were the ones to cause this. To instill deep hatred into Luke’s chest. To prevent either of you from ever having a normal life where you could live and breathe and love without the burdens placed upon you both.

A life where you wouldn’t have to love and lose someone like Luke.

But there’s nothing for you to do about it now.

You don’t want to leave. But your time together is up. You should’ve left a long time ago, and your choice to stay before resulted in something you could never take back.

You turn and walk to the door. And once more, Luke speaking causes you to stop.

“You are the only one who could make me change my mind.” He says it in a small whisper, as if he doesn’t want to admit it even to himself. As if he shouldn’t be admitting it at all.

‘Are’. His feelings for you still haven’t changed. You don’t know if they ever will.

Either way, you’re forced to change yours.

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Your hand reaches for the doorknob. You take it in your palm, gripping and turning at the same time until the latch is undone.

The door opens and fills the room with the sound of rain falling. It’s loud and fills the empty space. Up until Luke speaks and the baritone of his voice joins it.

“This is it?”

You nod once. Luke’s scoff sounds painful. It’s bitter with an edge of hatred. Maybe disbelief.

It makes tears brim at your eyes. Your nose stings. Your throat feels as if it’s constricting with the effort to hold your tears back.

Luke takes a breath. You step one foot out of the door.

“Dreamcatcher,” he calls to get your attention, the nickname giving you that fuzzy feeling you used to get from just seeing him around camp. “We’ll be seeing each other again.”

And then your foot lands on the dry green grass of your own dreamscape.

Just a few hours later, you rise with the morning sun, sneaking off to the showers before everyone else to get rid of the stickiness between your thighs.

The dream might not have been real, but the evidence between your legs certainly was. Strangely enough, that and the additional chord of beads around your neck. You only notice it when you’ve undressed and stepped beneath the shower head, scrubbing at your skin and running into additional jewelry you hadn’t expected to have been there.

You take it off and slip it with the rest of your clothes as a keepsake, carrying it around in your pocket for only you to know about.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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rafesslxt · 6 months

Text

Lustpotion | mattheo riddle

summary: you‘re in a boring relationship with cedric diggory and after his enemy mattheo hits a few nerves with his words, he gives you a potion. what you didn‘t know is that it was a sex and lust potion

warnings: cheating (sorry cedric), mind reading, drugging ( kind of, you drinking an unknown potion he gives you ), fingering, dirty talk, praise, dom!mattheo x sub!reader, unprotected p in v, kiiinda enemy to lovers thingy

notes: i‘m making up for not posting so long with posting this third post in 2 days hehe, english is not my first language

tags: @unicors1993 @atadoddinnit @awh-lillies @idk-simra @onyxwingsandcrowblackdreams @xitsametaphorbrianx @kiwi475

My shoulders heavy and my mind racing, I walked into the common room of my house, Slytherin.

All I wanted in that moment was to fall in bed and sleep through the whole weekend. But Pansy had other plans, apparently, cause my door did not open as I tried to walk in our shared dorm. I groan and bang against the door. "Pansy! Open up!" "Sorry Y/n, Draco's over!" I hear her shouting. Perfect, fucking perfect.

With a frown on my face I walk back into the common room, letting myself fall onto one of the couches, closing my eyes, not even caring who's around.

"Wow, I never thought I would have the honor to spend time with you." I hear a dark voice echoing through the empty common room. I open my eyes and see Mattheo sitting on the opposite couch, now standing up and sitting down on mine but on the other end of it.

I just lazily roll my eyes at him and mutter "Don't flatter yourself, Riddle. You know I'm not here for you." He smirks at my answer and shakes his head slowly. "It's just such a shame that you're with Diggory. You know.. he can't keep up with you." I look at him, confused at the sudden change of subject. " How would you know that?"

"I know a lot more than you think, Y/N. I've been watching you two." "Oh great, so I have a stalker?" I answer sarcastically. There's a chuckle in his throat again. " Just observant. But I noticed something. You're not happy with Diggory, right?"

I scoff at his words and look at him directly. " Of course I am happy with Cedric. Why wouldn't I be? Every girl would be. He's so gentle, soft, sensitive.. a gentlemen." I slowly drift off while I'm talking.

"Yeah that's what you want most people to think but I know something else nobody knows about you two." " Oh enlighten me, please."

"I know you have a thing for troublemakers. A soft spot for those who can make your heart race, and Cedric? He's too perfect for you. You need someone who can challenge you, push your buttons, push you to your limits." I hold eye contact while he speaks, not wanting him to think I back down from this but his words hit a nerve, he just didn't needed to know that.

"How would you know what I really like, Riddle?" I question him, something that goes through my mind the whole time. " I pay attention Y/n, I notice things around me. And trust me when I tell you, you give off all the signs." "Signs?"

"Yes, signs. For example the way you always look at me when we argue, your cheeks getting all flustered. The way your heart races when we're close. Even the dream's you're having about me."

My eyed widen at his last comment and my body stiffens. "You can't hide anything from me." I gulp and shake my head. I told no one about my dreams. Didn't even write them into my diary out of fear someone could read it. There is only one way he could know this and I know that his father, Voldemort, was able to do this. "Did you read my mind? My dreams?"

A big smile spreads across his face. " Maybe, maybe not." Slowly I start to get frustrated with this conversation, showing it on my face. "What do you want Mattheo? Why do you care about all of this so much, hm?"

"Because I see something in you.. something I want to try. Maybe pushing your buttons a little bit." I look at him for a moment, waiting for him to tell me that this is a joke, but he doesn't.

I sigh tired "Doesn't matter, I'm with Cedric." "Is that what you truly want Y/n? Or are you just settling for what everybody expects you to want?" I gulp at his words feeling like they hit a nerve inside me again. "I like him, really.."

"I believe you Y/n, but that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun along the way." I laugh sarcastically at him. " Oh yeah let me guess, that fun would include you? You just want something to rub under Cedric's nose."

"Perhaps.." he admits with a smirk. " But what If I would offer you more than that? What If I could offer you things that Cedric never could? Wouldn't you be curious?"

I swallow, scanning his face before I look away, not knowing what to answer him. He's right tho, I really like Cedric but everything with him is so.. perfect. It bores me to death sometimes.. I just want something more fiercy but I would never admit that to Mattheo.

"You don't have to admit anything." he smirks like a little devil, letting me know he's inside my head. I'm happy that he sits on the other end or else he would feel the heat coming from my body and my heart racing. "What should I do then hm? Great, let me guess.. hopping into bed with you?"

"That's a start.." an arrogant smile on his face. "But I meant more like exploring the unknown together." His gaze flickers over my face, studying my reaction. "I promise you won't regret it."

"The unknown? And what would that be?" "Oh dear, don't you ever wonder what's outside there? What else you might be capable of? I can show you." He comes nearer, sitting in front of me now. "Then show me."

With a devilish grin he leans in even closer, his mouth brushing against my ear, his mouth opening slightly as I think he wants to say something but after a few seconds of waiting and his hot breath tickling my ear, he disappeared into thin air.

In shock I look at the place he just sat on a moment ago, then looking around me. Where the hell is he and how did he do that? "Mattheo?" I ask quietly into the empty room.

There was a soft chuckle that seemed to come from nowhere and then Mattheo reappeared right in front of me. " Suprised ?" he asks with a smirk. " I told you I could show you things."

"How did you-" "It's a talent." he says casually as If it's nothing to disappear into the air. "One you might find useful someday.. but let's concentrate on a little experiment for now." " What experiment?" I ask suspicious.

His voice is smooth as silk as he starts speaking again. " I want you to try something for me.." He holds out his hand in which lays a little bottle, unlabeled and filled with a dark red liquid. "Drink this."

I take it from his hand and look at it a bit closer, noticing sparkles in it. "What is that?"

"Just a little potion. It will open your senses, make you see and feel things differently." he says while watching me carefully. I lick my lips before asking If he made this by himself. "Of course.. I'm skilled in the art of potion-making, as you'll find out soon." he smirks. " Go on..drink it."

I don't know what it is but something inside me, whatever it is, screams at me with full lungs to do it, my fingers twitching as I look at the little phial. I open it, position it at my lips and let the unknown liquid run down my throat.

As I swallow it, I could already feel it heightening my senses, my emotions running wild inside me. I see him watching my face with satisfaction as I visibly tremble in his presence. " That's it.." he whispers, coming closer again. " W-what did you gave me Mattheo?" I stutter out as I feel myself getting warmer under my clothes.

"Just a little something to enhance your experience." he says, his voice filled with dripping lust. " You'll thank me later." Suddenly, without a warning, he leans in and kisses me, his tongue exploring my mouth instantly while slowly pressing me down against the couch.

I gasp into his mouth, feeling all kind of things at once. The potion made every nerve in me more sensitive, leaving me panting just from this kiss. Goosebumps erupt over my body as I slowly feel like I'm on fire.

Mattheo smiled against me, mumbling " It feels like all your senses are heightened, right?" I just nod and answer him with a short breathless "yes". "How does it feel now?" he asks as he presses his body harder against mine, still under him. I whine at the touch and close my eyes, too stunned to speak.

His smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph. My body is trembling against his, every breath I take seems to be for him. "How does it feel?" he repeats his question. " Like..like every touch from you sets me on fire. It's burning.." I gasp again, my cheeks turning red.

"Is that so?" he hums, " Do you want me to make it burn even more?" he whispers in a seductive tone. I just nod, not thinking about my actions anymore. " Please Mattheo, I can't breathe." I feel my lungs getting heavier, just like the rest of my body.

He brings his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek and brushing his thumb over my trembling lip, causing me to shudder against him. " I'll make you scream, princess." he promises with his voice low and intense.

I bite my lip at his statement, my eyes slowly closing. " How long does the potion last?" "They can last for hours." he says with a wicked smile, still brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. He slowly let's it slide past my parted lips. He groans as I suck on it, letting my tongue swirl around it, before he slowly pulls out.

"Mattheo please, I need you." I whine, feeling as If I’m about to explode If he doesn't touch me and give me something. " You need me?" He starts to smile at my words, letting his hand wandering over my body. From my mouth down to my neck, down to my chest further to my stomach. I inhale sharply when his fingers brush my stomach, feeling it already tightening.

Shamelessly he opens my jeans, letting his finger disappear into my slip without hesitation. " You're already so wet for me." he groans as he feels me dripping onto his fingers. "I fucking love it." he mumbles against my lips before he kisses me.

He tugs at the rest of my jeans and slides them down without breaking the kiss, until my pants are gone. He takes of my top, leaving my lips this time and looking at me. "Oh you look so hot right now."

My cheeks get red and hot, my face all flustered. "You look so fucking good baby, fuck." he groans his hand going back inside my slip, his thumb circling my sensitive clit and his fore and middle finger go right inside my pussy, pumping me.

"Oh god Mattheo, it‘s too much!" I whimper loudly as he continues to tease me with his touch. It didn‘t take me long before I come on his fingers, clenching around them.

My nails dig into his arms and leave marks all over them, broken whimpers and screams leave my mouth but before anyone could hear, they were muffled by Mattheo‘s hand over my mouth.

"Shh, we can't have anyone hear this, right?" "I need more Mattheo, please. Fuck me!" I hiss, feeling as If I might die If he doesn‘t"

"Poor baby, all fucked out and I've barely even touched you." he says, smiling down at me and my shaking body. His fingers come back to my pussy but this time they only play with my clit which makes me arch my back and gasping really loudly."N-no.. more.." i stutter out.

"Oh I‘ll give you more." he promises, chuckling low in his throat, unable to resist my pleas. He pulls me closer, our bodies flush against each other. With his free hand, he unbuttoned his own pants, letting out a sharp breath as he feels my wetness against his erection.

My eyes go wide as I look down and see his cock. My mouth hangs open a bit and I feel myself getting even wetter. "I - am I dreaming or is this real?" i ask him, not sure If the potion lets me imagine thing.

He laughs at my words and shakes his head. "It’s real.." he growls. "And you're gonna find out just how fucking real it feels."

Before I could say anything, I feel his thick tip against my entrance, pushing itself inside me with a sudden force that made me roll my eyes back to my brain.

"God, you feel so good, so tight." he moans as he starts to move his hips. I buck my hips up against his, finally feeling full, finally feeling that fire on my skin cool down a little bit. I look around the room, realizing again, that we‘re in the middle of the common room and anybody could just walk outside their dorms and see us. But at that moment I couldn‘t care less, it even turned me on when I‘m being honest.

He leans down to my face and whispers inside my ear " you like that thought of getting caught hm? The thrill of being watched.." I moan even louder at his words that let me know he read my mind again. "Please.." i breathe out.

I felt so drunk.. drunk of him. "I bet you would beg anyone to fuck you right now." he murmured as his eyes roam over my trembling body. "N-no, only you.." i whine and it‘s true. I feel like there is a connection through the potion to him. A desire that only he can satisfy.

"I want to feel you." I beg him as he slowly pumps his cock in and out of me. "You want it rough or smooth?" "Rough." i answer without hesitation.

Mattheo's grin widens and his eyes gleam with lust. "You got it.." he growls, pulling me up and pushing me onto the table in front of him. I gasp at the sudden change.

He ignores the possibility of being caught, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he positions himself at my entrance. He pushes into me hard, filling me completely with one thrust. "Fuck" he groans, starting to move his hips in a steady rhythm.

His lips curl into a devilish smile, his movements becoming more aggressive. "You like it rough, huh?" he asked rhetorically, increasing the pace of his thrusts. I slam my hands down onto the table and try to stabilize myself but it‘s useless. He‘s fucking me like an wild animal, the table wiggling like crazy.

We both feel the intensity of the situation growing, his cock twitching with each thrust and my pussy clenching. "You're mine," he growls, grabbing my hair roughly and pulling my head back. He starts moving faster, almost losing control.

I can‘t answer. His statement reminds me of Cedric for a moment and guilt crashes over me. Mattheo felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of Cedric's name crossing my mind as he reads it again. He slams into me harder, his body trembling with effort. "You belong to me," he repeated through gritted teeth, his eyes locked onto mine.

"I bet he can't fuck you like I can. I can take care of you. You don't need anyone but me."

I still don‘t answer him, pressing my lips together which just angers him more. "You‘ll beg for it." he snarls and lifts my leg over his shoulder, getting even deeper which leads to me squirming and breathing fast.

"I'm going to fuck him out of your smart little brain, understood?" I just nod and claw my nails into his back, leaving marks all over. "Tell me you belong to me." he whispers into my ear, thrusting with more force inside me. "I- I don‘t know.." i whimper as i feel him hitting my soft spot.

"What would he think If he could see you right now, hm?" he taunts over me and smiles, scanning my face and body. "Such a little slut for me.“

I scream his name, muffling it with my own hand as I feel myself getting close. "I need to come, please. I'll do anything!" "Say it." he says, his hips getting slower, teasing me.

"I - I‘m yours Mattheo. I belong to you." I cry out as he thrust inside of me like a mad men. "Come for me princess." he moans, his thumb going over my clit again. My eyes roll back once again as he hits my cervix, fucking me speechless.

"Bite me." I look at him confused before he repeats himself. "Bite into my shoulder when you come."

With a brutal pace he slams his cock inside me, leaving me dumb and brainless as he chases his own release. A broken sob comes out of my throat and my stomach twists in the best way ever as i come around his throbbing cock, milking him. I do as he told me to and bite into his shoulder as I scream.

I feel him release inside of me, pumping me full with his cum and painting my walls with his hot seed. He holds me in place, making sure I take every last drop of him.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he whispers as he pulls his cock out, looking at our mixed juices. I look down and the picture sends shivers down my spine.

"I - uh.. I might have left a few marks." I admit kinda shy as I feel the potion flowing out of my system.

" I must say, you are quite the little cockslut." he said, admiring the mess between my legs and my work on his back and arms. He leans down and whispers into my ear. "Now clean up and go to sleep princess. You‘ll sit with me at breakfast."

"But - I sit with Cedric every time." "Well, that‘s too bad, cause you‘re sitting with me tomorrow." he says, knowing how mich he will get under Cedric‘s skin with this. "And remember, If you don‘t show up I will find you." he says, daring me to argue with him.

— next morning —

As I walk into the great hall, my heart keeps pounding in my chest like its about to explode. My hands are twitching and I couldn‘t hide my nervousness on my face.

I fell asleep last night with an sore aching pussy and a dream that about Mattheo that was .. well, interesting. But I bet he already read my thoughts and dreams I had. Damn, I really had to do something about that later.

I gulp as I walk further into the Hall, standing still as I look over all the four tables. At first I look over to the Hufflepuff table with Cedric sitting on it. He smiles at me as he notices me. That perfect smile.

Then I looked over to my table, seeing Mattheo‘s eyes were already on me. He looks at me with daring eyes, gleaming with lust and power.

Suddenly I hear a voice inside my head, whispering. "Don‘t even think about it my little cockslut." I bite my lip at the choice of his words. I look over to Cedric again, sending him an apologetic look before walking over to an arrogant looking Mattheo, smiling smugly at Cedric.

—

thank you so much for reading! Comment down beloe If you wanna get tagged in part 2 cause there will be one.. suprise: sub!mattheo 👀

thank you also for every kind of support 😚

xoxo sarah <3

#slytherin boys #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #harry potter imagine #harry potter masterlist

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werecreature-addicted · 3 months

Note

I remember some of your posts about a minotaur who lived with a peasant girl, can I ask for something about that? If it's not a bother of courseDue to the life that the minotaur has had, its instincts never appeared, that is, it never went through a stage of heat due to the stress and abuse to which it was subjected, but now everything is different, it is calmer, more relaxed, and it began to pay attention to a girl, specifically the girl she lives with, and apparently her instincts are beginning to appear, her body asks her to "mate" with her partner, although it is difficult to control herself, plus they are nothing yet and the girl does not know that minotaurs also go through a hot season, and it's not like she was going to ask him that, it would be very strange xd

(imagine that poor cock crying to enter the girl, but he must hide it, even if it is uncomfortable)

Sam master list for previous parts.

under the cut because this is long...for me at least.

Normally when it came to the physically demanding chores around the farm Sam liked to do the heavy lifting, literally. You were stronger than you looked but you still didn't have the monstrous strength that he did, and even besides that, he liked to spoil you. He'd never admit it out loud but he liked the way you sometimes watched him as he repaired the siding of a barn or hammered in a sense post. Something about the way your eyes followed him left a warm feeling in his belly. It's especially nice now that sometimes you kiss him after he's done a good job.

Now though, he just stands and stares as you work, nailing together bits of wood making your own saddle stand out of leftover bits of material. You looked so good, sweaty, and bent over your little bench. Is this how you felt when you watched him work? Sam doesn't even have the vocabulary to describe the strange heat that burns inside of him. He's supposed to be doing other work right now but he can't tear his eyes from you.

He wants to bend you over that saddle stand and- and what? He flinches back from the thought he didn't want to hurt you and he hates that his instincts are pushing him in that direction. But he wouldn't hurt you, his mind argues back. He wouldn't pin you down to hurt win a match or something. He'd be gentle. He'd pleasure you. Sam shudders. Where were these thoughts coming from?

His nostrils flare and even from across the barn, he can smell you and the salt of your sweat makes his cock throb. Sam sits down hard and pulls a nearby milk bucket over the large tent in his pants. He immediately feels stupid and tosses the pail aside, it did more to draw attention to his boner than hide it. He settles for just sitting awkwardly and hoping you don't notice.

How can Sam ever look you in the eye again after this? He supposes he shouldn't feel so guilty about being attracted to you but surely it's perverse to want you this badly when you're not even doing anything. At least if you were naked in bed trying to seduce him he'd have good reason to be this turned on. Sam shudders and replays the mental image of you, naked in bed, looking up at him trying to pull him towards you. Fuck he needed to get on top of you.

Just as that thought crossed his mind you bent over the waist-height wooden stand to grab something from your toolbox jutting your ass out in front of him. In a second Sam is on his feet, walking towards you before he can register what he's even doing, all he knows is that he needs you.

"oh, Sam-" you gasp, jumping a little when you turn to see him right behind you. For someone so big he moved silently. Sam takes a step forward and presses you back against the barn wall. "What's going on honey?" you ask trying to sound calm but you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous about his behavior. Sam had always been so cautious with you, overly gentle and paranoid that he might hurt you by accident. The Sam you knew would never pin you against a wall like this, it was nervewracking but also exciting.

"I uhm I just wanted to be close to you I guess," he mumbled, lowering his snout to your shoulder as if he was smelling you. Sam steps closer and you feel something brush against your thigh at first you think it's his leg but you look down and realize it's his barely restrained cock poking into your thigh.

"Do- are you uhm in heat Sam?" You ask and the monster on top of you freezes.

"do- do minotaurs go into heat?" he asks puzzled.

"I guess I don't know but most monsters do have you really never gone into heat before?" You ask then wince, it made sense that he wouldn't go into heat when he was under such harsh conditions his body wouldn't let him go into such a vulnerable state.

"No," he said, his hips grinding softly against your thigh he groans at the friction and you can't help but shudder too. You might not go into heat but you did want him just as much. "Will you help me?" he asked desperately.

"yes- yeah, I'll help you let me just-" As soon as he has your consent all other thoughts fly out of his head. He pushes his mouth to yours kissing you and effectively shutting you up. This wasn't like any of the other soft and innocent kisses you and Sam had shared in the past this was heated, and needy and caused a warm heat to bloom inside of you. This isn't a kiss for the sake of kissing, this is a kiss that promises much much more to come.

Even desperate like this, Sam still tries to be gentle as he strips your clothes and kneels down so he can hook your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, your back pressed to the wall of the barn he holds your weight easily.

"I'm going to get you nice and prepped for me, my cock is big and I need you to take every inch, okay?" he asks softly, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh as his thick fingers ghost over your cunt.

"Hold my horns while you rid my face," Sam instructs. You look down at his horns, one normal and the other broken and jagged. You hesitated, you knew how much that broken horn hurt him and you didn't want to grab it, but before you could put much more thought into it Sam pressed his mouth to your cunt, running his large soft tongue over your folds getting you wet enough to slot his big fingers inside of you. You yelp and settle for holding on to his good horn with one hand and tangling your fingers in his hair with the other.

Sam's cock ached. He needed to be buried inside of you, but he held himself back. He imagined the pained squeak you'd make if he tried to fuck you without any prep and that was almost enough to snap him out of his lusty haze. Almost.

You lose count of how many times you cum as he stretches you out and gets you ready for his dick, eventually though he decides that you're ready for him, or he just gets tired of waiting. Your legs tremble and for a second you worry you're not going to be able to stand on your own but you needn't worry, Sam had no intention of letting you stand. he readjusts his grip so that your legs are over his forearms and he pins you against the wall again his cock nudging your opening, slipping up your pussy as he tries unsuccessfully to push into you. His cock head bumps your clit and you feel a pulse of warm precum ooze out onto your hot skin making you shudder, your thighs tense in his arms, and Sam grunts, spreading your legs a little further as he grinds his cock over your cunt again.

You reach between your two bodies and grasp his cock. You curse silently to yourself feeling the weight and girth of it for the first time. You stroke him a few times before you guide his dick inside of you.

Sam had been so careful to be gentle with you this whole time, but now that he feels your tight heat gripping him in a way he's never felt before he no longer has the restraint. His brain shuts off and he feels more like a beast than he has in years. Sam slams his hips against yours burying his cock to the hilt in one swift motion. You cry out and dig your nails into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you with all the strength of a bull plowing a field. You're pretty sure you hear something crack and for a minute you aren't sure if it's you or the barn wall behind you that's breaking.

Sam groans loudly as he sinks his cock into you over and over again. His hips have a mind of their own as they steadily rock back and forth. He hates to admit it, but every time you cry out in pleasure or in pain it makes his cock throb. He would have thought the sound of you hurting-hurting because of him, would be enough to break his heart instead it makes him whimper and only fuels his desire to fuck you harder and fill you with his cum until you were swollen with it.

The mental image of you bloated with his seed proves to be too much for him and with one more deep stroke he cums deep inside of you, his legs shake with the relief of finally breeding you. He pulls you away from the wall and crashes backward into a hay bail laying down to catch his breath while keeping you impaled on his cock.

It feels right to have you on his chest and be surrounded by the earthy comforting smell of hay and dirt. You shift a little and his hands fly up to your hips pushing you back down.

"Stay... please," he almost begs softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam, I just want to get off your dick," you promise, trying to shift again. then he looks at you with the saddest most pleading look you've ever seen. his big brown cow eyes sparkling at you.

"Please don't, I want to be inside of you so you can feel me get hard again before I fuck you," he mumbles pleadingly. how could you say no to that face?

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #imagine minotaur #minotaur x reader #minotaur boyfriend #minotaur smut

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Allergies II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: You have another allergic reaction

In all honesty, you didn't really think it was that serious.

Nutrition meetings at Barcelona were a lot more in depth than what you were used to at Arsenal. They took ages and were full of information that would probably be interesting if you actually cared but, alas, nutrition had never been as interesting to you as other subjects so you tended to just zone out.

You were handed a new smoothie with some kind of new protein powder in or something you would have known if you actually listened.

You drank it.

That's when things start to get weird.

The nutritionist continues to drone on and you frown, scratching at your neck.

You stare down at your bottle for a moment as your throat goes all scratchy and intense.

You force yourself to swallow before glancing around.

Your throat gets a bit tighter.

No one else seems to be having such a reaction so you unscrew the top of your bottle to peer inside. You sniff the mixture before standing up.

You can feel people watch as you make your way over to the first aid kit at the front of the room. Your throat has fully closed up now and you know that you're turning alarmingly red and probably breaking out in hives.

Honestly, you feel a little bit shocked how you're even conscious right now but you grab your epipen and stab it into your leg.

"Banana," You say plainly," I can't eat that."

Even with the adrenaline now pumping through your system, you slide your way down the wall to sit on the floor, breathing in deeply.

The room erupts into chaos the moment you sit down.

The medical staff come in to check your blood pressure and your throat and the expiration date of your epipen. The nutritionist leading the session is going absolutely ballistic yelling at one of her assistants for not checking the allergy sheets before making and handing out the smoothies.

Talia looks close to tears as she forces her way towards you, practically shoving some of the medics away. "Are you okay? Is it bad? Do I need to call your mums?"

"No! Don't call my-"

Talia's already gone out into the hall, phone pressed up against her ear.

You wonder which one of your mothers she has in her contacts.

Surely not Morsa because she's still in that stage where she's pretending to hate your girlfriend but you can't remember your Momma and Talia interacting enough to have swapped numbers and you know for certain that you weren't one to hand out people's numbers without explicit permission.

As the medics fuss and the nutritionist yells, the team also gather around to check that you're alright but you just give them a gallant shrug.

"I'm fine," You say," The epipen did its work."

"I think I'd prefer if you take the day off," The head of the medical team says," Just to be safe. You can come back tomorrow."

You know better than to argue with him so you just nod with a little sigh of annoyance.

"I can take her home," Talia says as she re-enters the room," I've got her."

"I can take a taxi home," You insist.

You and Talia drive in together so only one car is used. If you go home in that car now then she'll have to get a taxi in the middle of rush hour.

"I'll take you home," Talia says," Coach can spare me at training today. Someone's got to make sure you actually follow medical advice."

You roll your eyes. "I swear you've been hanging out with my Momma behind my back." You take the hand she offers to help you stand. "You sound just like her."

You end up back home fairly quickly, curled up on the sofa and practically forced to take a nap.

Prins joins you, curled up in the bend of your knee. Reina settles on the top of the sofa behind your head, completely stretched out and at ease with herself while Kung manages to wiggle himself between your arms to nap there.

You don't know how long you nap for but it must be a while because the sun is setting when you wake up and you can smell Talia cooking up your favourite pasta dish in the world.

You sit up.

You've definitely been sleeping for a while because Reina has migrated to her cat tree, poking her head out of the cave to watch Kung bounce around the floor in outrage at not being allowed up there with her.

Prins has taken Kung's place between your arms and his tongue rolls out of his mouth in a semblance of a dopey smile when he notices you awake, his tail beginning to wag happily.

"Hi, little man," You say, gently scratching between his ears," Did you keep me company?"

Prins' tail wags even more fiercely than before.

"Didn't want to leave your side."

You jolt, shrieking and Prins whines a little.

"Morsa! What are you doing here?!"

"Talia called your Momma," Morsa says, tucking the blanket more firmly around your body," Your allergies acted up."

"I dealt with it," You insist," You didn't have to fly out."

"Yes, we did," Morsa replies," Because if we waited for you to tell us, it would take weeks!"

You puff out your cheeks. "I wouldn't want to worry you over something so silly."

"Are you calling your allergies silly again?" Momma says. She enters with two plates worth of food and you sit up.

Prins leaps down to wander over to his own dog bed. Seeing him lying there, Kung wanders over, jumping up onto Prins' back to finish napping there as Reina ducks her head back into her cave.

"No, Momma," You mumble, accepting your food as Morsa takes a seat on the armchair and Momma to the left of you, leaving an empty space for Talia, who also brings out food for herself and Morsa before taking her own seat.

"Are you feeling better, mi vida?" She asks," You look better."

You nod. "I feel fine. My leg aches a little but that's expected."

"We'll put an icepack on it once we've finished eating. Prins was very worried about you."

Prins raises his head at the mention of his name, tail wagging.

"He's good boy."

Morsa grins from across the room. "I knew getting you a dog was a good idea."

Momma scoffs. "You told me that we should have gotten her a fish."

Morsa coughs to clear her throat and mumbles," Don't lie, Pernille."

"You wanted to get me a fish?" You laugh in disbelief," And you say Rocky is the most disappointing pet in the world."

"Are you really saying your pet rock is more exciting than a fish?"

"Am I?" You pretend to think for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I am."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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reiding-writing · 7 months

Note

i LOVE your angsts

you can write something about the reader and spencer being apart after a conflict, being childish and sarcastic towards each other afterwards, and then, one of the cases ends in an explosion and, or, fire in which one of the two is trapped and alone, and the other takes risks to save him

who knows, maybe one of the two in the hospital is still delirious and asking to marry the other? anyway, you choose

basically two idiots in love and proud who can't bear the thought of losing each other

thanks 🥺🫶🏻

commitment [ s.r ]

You love Spencer Reid more than anything in the world, but committing to someone for life was not something to be considered lightly. A life or death situation might speed up the decision process a little.

spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 4.0k ll masterlist!!

WARNINGS: commitment issues, fire, major character injury, miscommunication, happy ending

a/n: happy 29th of february? is that something to be celebrated? anyway, kinda took this one on a rollercoaster ride, enjoy :)

Spencer Reid wanted a family.

He wanted to get married, have 2.5 kids and live in a house with two cars and a white picket fence.

But he didn’t just want that with anybody, he wanted that with you.

You weren’t sure.

You loved Spencer with your whole heart, you really did, but after your parents’ failed marriage and your negative experiences with romantic relationships in the past, the fact that you’d even been in a committed relationship with Spencer for the last four years was an achievement in itself.

You’d talked about it a few times, but you’d always come to opposite decisions. Spencer wanted to settle down with you, and you were afraid to do so.

Your most recent conversation on the subject ended less as a conversation and more as an argument.

“So you don’t really love me then?” You could see the betrayal in his eyes at you again shutting down the idea, his tone carrying more upsetness than accusation.

“No Spencer of course I love you what are you talking about?” You can feel yourself nearing tears at his question. He was quite literally the person you loved most in the world, and to have him shut down your feelings because you didn’t see eye to eye with him broke your heart.

You spent the next few days staying with Garcia.

You tried to not let your disagreement with Spencer influence your work, but the fact that you wouldn’t so much as spare a glance at each other during office hours tipped off the rest of the team about your situation immediately.

“So,” Morgan leaned his hip against the counter of the kitchenette as you fixed yourself a cup of coffee, neglecting Spencer’s mug on the shelf instead of making both cups at once like you’d usually do.

“So?” You raise an eyebrow at his incomplete sentence.

“What’s going on between you and pretty boy?”

You sigh before he even finishes the question. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,”

“Your lover’s quarrel is ruining the vibes, it is most definitely something for me to worry about,” You roll your eyes at his response. Trust Morgan to find the most unserious way to express his concern for the two of you.

Logically you knew it was because he wanted to tread lightly, but that didn’t make it any less eye-roll inducing.

“So,” He leans forwards a little. “What’s going on? Did you disagree on whether Star Trek or Star Wars was better or something?”

You give him a deadpan stare and he immediately surrenders, raising up his hands as he concedes.

“What else do you have to argue about? You guys are like the most boring couple I know,” Morgan shrugs nonchalantly, and you halt the stirring of your teaspoon in your drink.

Boring? You weren’t boring. Were you? Did Spencer think you were boring? Did he think your relationship was boring? Maybe he only wanted to tie the knot in the hope that it would ‘reignite the spark’ or whatever people said.

“Hey.” Morgan snapped his fingers in front of your face, effectively pulling you out of your internal spiral.

“Hm?”

“I asked if it was serious, Garcia told me you’ve been staying with her the last few days,”

Curse Garcia and Morgan’s no filter relationship.

“Everything’s fine, we both just need time to cool off,”

“You’re sure?”

You have to consciously suppress a sigh at his continued questioning. Morgan was great, but god did he push.

“Yes Morgan, everything’s fine,” You spoke with enough conviction that you managed to convince him of your truth, although whether you believed it yourself was another question.

“Good, because if you two ever broke up I’m pretty sure the whole team would fall apart,” His tone tells you his joking, as does his expression as he leaves you to your coffee, but your brain isn’t as kind as to just let the comment fly over your head, and you’re sent into another spiral as you make your way back over to your desk.

Do the whole team really think of your relationship with Spencer as a vital part of its inner workings? What if it really didn’t work out? What would happen then?

Would the whole team fall into chaos?

You didn’t want to break off your relationship with Spencer. But what if it did happen?

Your thoughts leak into your body language, your shoulders tense as you sit down and your eyes not quite focused on the papers on your desk.

It didn’t help that Spencer sat directly opposite you either. It was like the world was trying to rub your conflict in your face every time you saw his hair in your peripheral vision.

You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your head, but you knew he wouldn’t say anything. It was one of the faults in his character, and yours you suppose, because even if he did ask you what was wrong you’d probably blow him off anyway.

The tension between the two of you was enough for Emily and Morgan to share a glance across the bullpen to each other, although they didn’t have enough time to corner you into asking what was actually going on as Hotch called the team into the conference room.

The silent feud between the two of you continued into the meeting, sitting on opposite ends of the table like you were two negative magnets being forced away from each other by an insurmountable pressure.

It was a little silly you think, to be so removed from each other after a single argument, but when Spencer put his foot down about something, he held his ground under any circumstance.

And so the two of you were destined to lie in a stalemate, sat seething in silent frustration with each other until one of you eventually caved under the pressure.

It wasn’t going to happen.

It was another fault of the two of you. You were both too damn stubborn for your own good, and it was beginning to affect your ability to work together.

You were supposed to be two sides of the same coin. Two gears intertwined and seamlessly rolling off of each other in perfect unison. Instead, you couldn’t even decide on the importance of a half-burned diary found at the scene of the last scene you’d arrived at, the fourth building set ablaze in Fallon in the last five days.

“This guy is clearly dealing with marital struggles, that could be our trigger,”

Of course he had marital struggles, because you couldn’t escape your own issues even when you were two-thousand miles across the country.

“We don’t even know if that diary belongs to our unsub,” You sigh exasperatedly as you slump back in your chair.

“It was a grocery store. Who brings a diary to a grocery store unless it’s something extremely important to them? It has to belong to our unsub.”

“Spencer-”

“You know that I’m more likely to be right about this,”

You can’t help but scoff at his statement, discarding your coffee mug on the round table and causing small brown droplets to coat the surface of the wood from the force. “You’re really pulling the intelligence card? Seriously?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Spencer shrugs his shoulders with a furrowed expression. “My intelligence is what got me here and it’s telling me that this diary belongs to our unsub,”

“And my experience is telling me that you’re fixating on this goddamn diary instead of looking for things that could be actually useful to finding this guy because you want to feel sorry for yourself by living through his struggles.” You gesture exasperatedly to the book in his hands, becoming increasingly frustrated with Spencer’s attitude towards you.

He might be smart, but you had almost half a decade on him in terms of experience. He had zero right to speak to you like that mid-feud or not.

“You’re angry at me, I get it. Don’t let it cloud your judgement.” You push yourself up from the table with a scowl, leaving your chair pushed out as you exit the station with the door slamming shut behind you.

“You’re sure this is the right place?” Morgan furrows his eyebrows as you approach the house, clearly run-down and looking as though no-one had lived in it in several years.

“I’m sure,” Spencer gave a determined nod as he un-holstered his gun, following the team into the house to sweep it for the suspect.

Despite your argument about the importance of the diary, Spencer had continues to fixate on it completely, leading to a partial name that Garcia had managed to identify and ultimately the house you were now running into.

You feel under-appreciated sometimes. Hotch always ended up going with Spencer’s choices, experience didn’t matter. It was like he had a tattoo across his forehead that read ‘I’m always right’ and everyone else took it as law.

But you’re not going to disobey direct orders, even if you did want to throw all of Spencer’s favourite books into a filled bathtub and watch him mourn over the ruined pages.

“Clear!”

You sweep the house room by room, you, Hotch, and Emily in charge of the ground floor whilst Morgan and Spencer went upstairs.

It was a complete ghost house. There was no electricity, no running water, smashed windows and moulded wallpaper, the furniture looked decades old and above all it just smelled horrific, a mix of leaking waste pipes and faulty gas lines. Were you seriously supposed to believe someone was living here?

“All clear up here,” Morgan emerged at the top of the stairwell with a shrug. “We got nothing,”

“Of course we don’t,” You mutter the words to yourself with a roll of your eyes, silently confirming your own victory at the obvious lack of human presence in the house Spencer was so sure belonged to the unsub.

“Alright, regroup outside,” Hotch called up to the two, gaining a nod from Morgan as he went to retrieve Spencer and bring him down as you exited the building.

“Nothing?” JJ tilted her head slightly as the three of you emerged, met with Emily shaking her head with a slightly awkward expression as she met your gaze.

“Nope, gross, but nothing,”

“Gross is right, it smelled like shit in there-” You clear your throat into your elbow like you’d managed to infest your lungs from the smell.

“Where’s Spence and Morgan?” You shrug your shoulders at JJ’s question heading back to the SUV to grab a bottle of water.

“Knowing Reid he’ll be over-analysing something,” Emily chuckles slightly, patting JJ on the shoulder as she follows you past her. “Morgan’ll get bored soon enough,”

“Are we going or what?” You call out from where you’re leaning against the car, water bottle being waved around in your hand as you gesture your impatience.

“Morgan and Reid are-” Emily stops as she spots Morgan walking out of the front door. “—Reid is still inside,”

“Of course he is,” You grumble to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

“He’s refusing to leave until he’s found something,” Morgan shrugs as he reaches Hotch’s side. “He’s adamant that there’s something to be found in there,”

“God seriously?” You groan out your words as you rejoin the group. “It’s an abandoned shit hole, there’s nothing to be found—”

A loud crash from the house interrupts your complaint.

Loud crashes are never good.

Neither is the bright orange flicker of light you can see through the front door. Definitely not when you’re working an arson case and Spencer Reid is still inside the house.

It’s like all the hours of you pondering how best to make Spencer suffer for his actions completely disappear as soon as the flames are in sight.

You couldn’t be angry at Spencer if he was dead.

The way the wooden beams of the door frame collapsed under the heat really cemented that thought in your mind.

“Spencer—”

Your attempt at running inside is promptly stopped by an outstretched arm that collides against your waist, winding you slightly and causing your expression to turn from fear to anger at the person who’d interrupted your attempt to vacate Spencer from the building.

“What are you doing?!” You push Morgan’s arm away from you harshly as you attempt to bypass him, but you don’t even get two steps forward before his arm is again blocking you from running into the burning building. “Get off me!”

“You can’t just run into a fire-” You continue to struggle against Morgan’s grip as he pleads his case to you, causing his voice to strain from the exertion of trying to keep you in one place.

“Morgan if you don’t let me go right now I swear to god-” Morgan withstands your threats with his strength, and you’re becoming increasingly resentful at just how much effort he’d gone through to stay physically fit.

“The fire department are on their way-” JJ’s voice is soaked in concern as she speaks, both hands clenched tightly around her phone as she stares into the open door of the house and the yellow-orange light that is quickly enveloping anything visible inside it. “They’re four minutes out,”

“Four minutes isn’t fast enough-”

“Hey-” Morgan continues to struggle against your writhing, planting both of his hands firmly against your shoulders and shaking them slightly in attempt to get your attention. “He’s going to be fine.” The uncertainty in his gaze tells you the opposite.

By the time you hear the sirens of fire engines rounding the street-corner, you don’t have the mental energy to feel relieved. All you can do is stare into the raging inferno that encapsulates the entire ground floor of the house and pray desperately that it didn’t manage to climb up the stairs. You know you’re being too optimistic.

You barely compute the obvious when a stretcher is prepared in front of the entrance, only coming to when you hear a worried gasp emanate from Emily at your side as Spencer is laid down on it after being recovered from the house’s master bedroom, very clearly unconscious and less clearly still breathing.

“Breathing is shallow, pulse is weak, we need to get him on oxygen,” The EMTs converse between themselves as they rush the stretcher into the fire ambulance, leaving you and your team to stand idly on the sidelines as both the fire and Spencer are taken care of by the firefighters on the scene.

You pace the waiting room on your heels, the sharp contact of your feet on the marbled floor leaving small shock waves to shoot up your legs as you walk. You couldn’t just sit down, you weren’t going to relax in a chair whilst the love of your life was possibly dying of asphyxiation. You were worried, terrified, and you had to release that nervous energy somehow.

If Spencer was here right now you’re sure he’d reprimand you for your nervous habit, rattling on about how heel-striking is dangerous for the health of your legs as it compresses your entire weight into a single point that can have bad impacts on your bones. Thinking about it just makes you feel worse, making you pace more and ultimately creating a self-fulfilling cycle where the more you thought about what he’d say the worse your actions would get.

At least you were actually in the hospital waiting and not back in the station waiting for a call. God knows you’d be more of a burden to the rest of the team than a help right now.

“Visitors for… Spencer Reid?” The nurse checks the clipboard in her hands as she speaks, and the second you hear the first syllable of his name you’re diverting your pacing to walk straight up to the nurse’s side.

“He’s awake but dreary, and he’s refusing any medication to help with the pain in his esophagus,” The nurse explains his conditions to you as she leads you down the hallway, shrugging her shoulders slightly at the mention of his refusal of pain medication.

“He can’t take narcotics, do you have any substitutes? NSAIDs?”

The nurse nods slightly at your explanation, checking her clipboard once more as she stops you at a wooden door. “I’ll have a look and see what I can find,”

“Thank you,” You give her a small nod and a smile as she leaves you at the door, suddenly even more nervous than you were in the waiting room. Not only was Spencer now in recovery for smoke inhalation and minor burns, the last ‘conversation’ the two of you had was an argument. A stupid, petty argument because you were both stubborn assholes who couldn’t agree to disagree on anything.

What if he didn’t want to see you? You were probably the last person he wanted at his bedside right now after everything that’d happened. Maybe you shouldn’t go in and see him.

Your hand is already opening the door. Okay, well, too late to second guess things now.

“Hey Spencer…” Your voice is barely a whisper as you enter the room, door shutting seamlessly behind you as you walk towards his hospital bed, fingers ringing together as a work around to release all of the nervous tension in your body without bursting into tears. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I ate a campfire-”

His words are enough to break the small tension between you, and you laugh softly in a mix of relief and worry. At least he was alright enough to be able to speak properly. The burn on his arm looked pretty bad though.

“You look like you ate a campfire,” You approach his hospital bed slowly, taking a seat on the plastic chair at his side and gazing over him with an entirely pitiful look in your eyes.

“I’m okay…” It was like he could read your mind, then again your sure that most people would be able to see how distraught you were right now, but Spencer was always the first to notice, and he languishly reached his hand out to rest against your knee.

You started crying the minute his fingers made contact with your slacks.

“I’m so sorry-” It felt a little silly to be crying in front of someone who’d just been trapped in a burning building and was probably experiencing an insane amount of pain from the lack of medication, but emotions don’t always follow logical boundaries. “I’ve been so- horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it at all-”

You’re sure you look like an absolute mess by now, tears staining your cheeks from your crying, a blotchy complexion from your stress, wrinkled clothes and ruined hair from constantly messing with them to try and find a release for all of your anxiety, but the way Spencer looks at you would have you assuming you’d stepped right off a runway.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for,”

“But-”

“Nothing.” Spencer shakes his head to the best of his ability as he shuts down your rebuttal, and he shifts his hand upwards to lie over your two hands clasped in your lap. “I shouldn’t have tried to pressure you into something that you’re not ready for, that was my fault, and for that I’m the one who needs to be saying sorry,”

“No I get it-”

“I made you uncomfortable and upset and that was never my intention,” Spencer continues to cut off your attempts to speak, something he’d usually rather die than do to you - or anyone for that matter - but deemed a necessity to stop you from lumping all of the blame on yourself when you had done nothing more than establish a boundary. A boundary that Spencer didn’t respect.

“I love you, and I want to spend every waking hour I have in your presence, I want to sleep with you in my arms and wake with you by my side. I want to experience every up and down with you and keep you safe and loved at every instance,” Spencer gives your hand a small squeeze as he looks at you, your reflection in his eyes one of pure beauty and perfection. “I didn’t do that for you in our last disagreement, and I can only hope that you’ll forgive me and allow me to make up for that moving forward,”

Spencer’s fingers ghost over the back of your hand, pressing small circles into the dips between your fingers and gently massaging your skin. “I want to do nothing more than love you, and a piece of paper and a pair of rings won’t change that either way.”

You swear that you melt with every word that leaves the boy’s mouth, and if he wasn’t currently hospital bound you’d smother his face in kisses until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

In respect for his condition you turn you affections to his hand instead, holding it up to your face and pressing deft kisses against the curve of each of his knuckles, silent tears still sliding down your cheeks. Tears of a different trajectory this time, filled no longer with guilt and frustration and instead replaced with the realisation of just how much you mean to Spencer Reid.

“I love you so much,” Your lips brush the back of his hand as you speak, his fingers dampening with the lingering moisture of your tears as you hold his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth. “So much.”

The smile that breaks out on Spencer’s face could cure any ailment in your mind within seconds. “I love you too,”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

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thevoidstaredback · 2 months

Text

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

"Hey, Babs,"

"Dick? It's late, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!"

"I'm about to go on patrol, D, can this wait?"

A sigh. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"Blockbuster's after Oracle."

***

Gotham Proper is a thirty-three minute drive from Bludhaven. The drive to Bristol from Bludhaven is a fifty-one minute drive through Drescher, Burnside, Sumerset, Victoria Place, and Little Stockton before crossing the bridge over Gotham River into Bristol. Gotham Proper is made of four islands connected to each other and the mainland via several bridges. Technically, all of those cities and towns - as well as Charon and Brentwood - are sister cities like Bludhaven, but everyone counts them as a part of Gotham anyway.

Dick spent the entire drive alternating between sulking and panicking.

Danny would know. Ghosts, as he's come to understand, are beings made of emotion, meaning that he can sense emotions better than living beings. Though, he didn't need an empth ability to read the air around Dick.

'What if something happens while we're gone?" Dick asked for the nth time in the past few minutes, "What if Brutale decides to blow something up while I'm gone? What if Blockbuster starts something big?"

"Bigger than what he's already doing?" Danny didn't bother to look up from his conversation with Tim. "The fact that you can't even name specific examples proves that you're not actually worried about Blockbuster or Brutale."

"I'm worried about Brutale blowing something up, thank you very much."

"Yeah, 'something'. Who even is Brutale anyway? I don't think I know that name."

"No one you need to worry about." He moved into the right lane.

Danny turned his phone off and set it face down on his leg. "What are you really worried about, Dick? I've known you for five weeks now, and I've never seen you this worried about anything."

"You've known me for three weeks."

"No, you've known me for three weeks. I've known you for five weeks. And don't change the subject."

Dick sighed, running his left hand through his hair before dropping it back onto the steering wheel.

"Is it Bruce?"

"...yeah."

"You know he's at work, right?"

"Yeah, I- How do you know that?"

He waved his phone a bit. "I checked with Tim. So, it's just going to be Tim and Alfred at the Manor when we get there."

"You know Alfred?"

"I know of Alfred." Danny slapped his right shoulder, "Stop trying to change the subject!"

"I can't help it! Deflecting has worked pretty damn well for me up until this point!"

"Oh, yeah? Against who?"

"Literally everyone!"

"Everyone?"

A beat. "Okay, so maybe only most people, but that's not the point!"

"Doesn't matter what your point is because we're going back to talking about mine!" He huffed. "If you don't want to go straight to Wayne Manor, then stop by somewhere else. You had to have gained at least one friend in Gotham before you moved to Bludhaven."

Dick paused for a moment, eyeing the signs. They'd only been driving for twenty minutes. He could hang a right just before Sumerset to cross the New Trigate Bridge into Arkham Island, take another right onto Midtown and drive to Old Gotham to meet Babs/. Yeah, that'd be nice. But, the detour would increase the chance of running into Bruce later on in the day. Maybe he could have Bab's drive to the Manor?

"Is it too late to turn around?"

"Yes."

"Why are you even so insistent on going? You don't know anyone in Gotham!"

"I know Tim!" He argued. "Besides, healthy relationships are good in this kind of work."

Dick raised his eyebrow, glancing at Danny from the corner of his eye. "You wanna second to rethink that or..?"

Danny clicked his tongue. "Look, I know you don't want to talk to Bruce, and I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to apologize to Tim for snapping at him. If you end up with better relations here in Gotham, then that only works in your favor."

Dick groaned, ditching the turn onto New Trigate and continuing on through Sumerset. "Fine! But we're leaving before Bruce gets back. I can't stand him right now."

Danny smiled, a sad look in his eye. "Alright."

He knew very well that Dick's relationship was near irreparable. From what he'd gathered, from either overhearing or snooping, Bruce had been a pretty good dad and boss to Dick up until he'd turned seventeen. He hung up the Robin mantle when he was eighteen, appearing as Nightwing when he was nineteen. Bruce, apparently, hadn't taken this very well, but copped, adopint ong Jason Todd when Dick was twenty years old, giving him the Robin mantle a few months later.

According to Dick, when Jason was killed, he'd been off world. Bruce hadn't even called him to inform him, let alone tell him about the funeral. And, when Dick got back and heard what happened from Batgirl, he'd confronted Batman in the Batcave. Batman, apparently, though he's inclined to Dick's side, punched him the face and shifted the blame.

Danny doesn't blame Dick for being angry. Not for a second. He can't really relate, but he understands.

Entering Bristol, there was a shift in the air. Outside was stuffy and smelled like money. Inside the car, however, was tense. Dick's attitude shifted to his work smile. It was plastic.

This was going to be a long day.

He didn't say anything. Quietly, Danny messaged Tim, letting him know about the shift. Tim was quick to respond, letting Danny know that he was fully prepared for whatever was coming. Danny didn't think he was.

Danny knew that something was going to happen. The air was suddenly suffocating, the world fake manufactured to perfection.

"You alright there, bud?" Dick asked, his voice perfectly professional.

"Yeah, fine. I-I'm fine." Danny wanted this car to turn around.

Part 10 Part 12

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hisphoria · 1 month

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high society, lhs

chapter 01, debut

synopsis: lee heeseung must find someone that will be willing to marry him just for the title. someone to marry him so that his grandmother can finally stop bothering him. while this isn't a hard thing for heeseung to do since almost every noble girl of the ton would be willing to marry him, he needs someone who has no interest in him. someone who will not bother him if he doesn't even speak to them as long as they aren't at some social event. and of course, he found that in you.

featuring: lee heeseung, sim jaeyun, park jongseong, park sunghoon, kim sunoo, nishimura riki, yang jungwon

genre: non-idol au, arranged marriage trope, enha as royals, victorian era?

content and warnings: cursing, drinking, sexual humor, some toxic mentality (considering the era i'm basing this on), and lotsss of angst

word count: 4193 words

taglist: @sumzysworld @tokkisann @sol3chu @yunjinhuhjennifer @capri-cuntz (still open! comment below if you want to be added)

← go back next →

you hated it.

hated everything about all of these things that your parents were making you do. having to wear this and that, go to this event, and talk to these people it was just getting to be a bit much for you. nothing was entertaining or fun about having to approach old rich men at the balls and acting interested in their boring lives. you also knew just talking to them boosted their egos and they didn't need any of that.

"but mother i'm already engaged to nikolaos. the rest of the ton already knows this as well. i can't just be going around flirting with other men anymore." you pouted as your mother stood behind you tightening your corset and fitting your new dress for an upcoming ball that your estate was hosting.

your mother simply rolled her eyes as she tightened the corset even tighter making you suck in a breath. "i know you are but that does not mean you shouldn't try for better. maybe an even richer man will find interest in you." you debated on whether or not to continue arguing with her. you knew it was pointless but you still thought maybe if you said it enough, she would calm down a little. you were fully devoted to the idea of marrying nikolaus and to you nothing and no one else could change your mind about it. marrying him was something you had dreamt about since the age of ten.

your parents didn't understand this though. your father did a little more than your mother but he just goes along with everything your mother says so it was never up for debate. it wasn't that your mother wasn't letting you marry nikolaos, she was just holding on till the very last minute to see if you will change your mind and marry someone else. nikolaos isn't even unsuccessful, his family being of the high society just like yourself but to your mother is wasn't enough. she wanted someone for you that was in the highest society. preferably in the top ten richest and well known men that appear in the newspapers.

"i want you to be happy" your mother began as she started fluffing out your hair with some oils that she had put onto her hands, "i am not telling you to not marry for love but it is only a plus if you marry for love and money."

you sighed as you looked into the mirror in front of you. the fact that she made some sense to you was something you did not want to admit. obviously money and status was always a plus and you didn't agree with her because it was something you yourself sought out but you did understand why she pushed the idea so much. "right. i understand you mother" you said to her as you stood up from the chair and looked back at her, "but i am indeed happy being engaged to nikolaos. i have loved him for so long and he is a successful man. i will be fine with him."

your mother simply nodded, deciding not to push the subject any further for the day. she gave you a kiss on the cheek before leaving your bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

you leaned against the railing at the top of the foyer looking over the crowd of people down below. it was the day of the ball and you had waited about 40 minutes after everyone arrived to make your entrance. the later you arrived, the less time you would have to interact with the ton and that sounded perfect to you. brushing down your baby blue ball gown, you made your way over to the staircase. you took a deep breath before resting your hand on the railing and slowly making your way down.

don't close your eyes you thought to yourself as you made your way down. it was always so nerve racking. all eyes turning towards you and looking you up and down. hearing the whispers just made it all worse.

that's when you saw nikolaos standing by a tall round table that was surrounded by other noble men. his head immediately turned towards you with a smile and he made his way over to you to meet you at the bottom of the staircase. you felt your heart slightly jump at the action but you weren't sure if that was the nerves because everyone was watching or if it really just melted your heart seeing him.

nikolaos reached his hand out for you to grab before bowing slightly before you, "good evening y/n" he whispered out to you. you smiled at him as you took his hand and touched the floor with your feet. you grabbed onto his shoulder with one hand and leaned into his ear and whispered, "i was too afraid to come out here if you weren't here."

"your mother kept me occupied for awhile..." he sighed as he turned and looked over to see where your mother and father stood attending to the guests who walked through the door. "she probably thought you were here wandering around already and didn't want me to take you away from your socializing." you frowned at this, slightly bowing your head and shaking it.

"i'm so sorry nikolaos" you said as you looked up at him, "you know how she is." he nodded and smiled at you reassuringly, "i know i know. i'm not offended don't worry. maybe you should go and get to know more people?" he said as he directed his attention back over to the crowd. the highest nobles were all gathered at the front greeting my parents. your mother and fathers faces beaming at them, you could've sworn you saw dollar signs in their eyes.

that's when he appeared.

"is that... lee heeseung?" you breathed out as you peered over nikolaos' shoulder to see lee heeseung enter, approaching your parents with a polite smile and bow. he was a well known noble. the highest of all the nobles. he was probably at the very very top of the pyramid in the high society. you heard that his parents were practically nonexistent, leaving the entire estate and title to their one and only son. he only had his grandmother and staff living in the mansion with him. you had only seen him maybe two or three other times as he didn't appear at every social event so him showing up at your estate... it was shocking.

not only was heeseung a high noble but he was also definitely the most handsome noble. his silver hair was styled but you loved that he never slicked it back, it looked natural and some pieces of his hair fell perfectly over his beautiful face. silver couldn't be his natural hair color you had thought to yourself, his dark roots showing under the silver. he would probably look perfect in any hair color.

"you should probably go greet him, no? not saying hi to the duke when he attends your ball is surely a crime" nikolaos let out a small laugh. you cleared your throat and nodded, letting go of his hand and placing your hands in front of you. "i hate to admit that you are right. i must go" you bowed slightly before making your way over to where your parents stood at the entrance.

"oh! my dear daughter!" your mother exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically as you arrived beside them. heeseung stood in front of them with both of his hands behind his back. he wore a white button up shirt tucked into some black pants with a dark blue jacket over, the collar gold and decorated with different lines and swirls. he looked like a prince.

heeseung eyed you up and down before bowing before you, "good evening lady y/n. i was just thanking your parents for inviting me to such a well organized and beautifully decorated event here at your estate." he brought his head back up and looked at you with a straight face, not even a slight smile had appeared on his face yet his voice sounded like he meant the compliment.

you bowed back to him, "it is an honor to welcome you to my parents estate my grace. we very much hope that you will enjoy it." you smiled at him as you came back up, placing your hands before you as they had before. heeseung simply nodded at you, the two of you looking at each other in silence for a few seconds before your fathers voice interrupted.

"your grace, we have heard about your engagement to the lady cadence laselle. congratulations" your father said as he put a hand over his heart. heeseung breathed in at your fathers words. he looked to the side and then back to your father again, "it seems that is all everyone is talking about, no? a vow between two families many years ago does not just mean i will easily take her as my wife. although..." he said as he then shifted his eyes over to you, "i have heard your daughter is actually to be engaged to nikolaos."

your mother frowned a bit at hearing his words. you already knew she was disappointed that you weren't marrying someone with a higher title and hearing it from the duke just probably made it worse for her. if even the duke knows, there's no going back is there?

you shifted your feet slightly and cleared your throat, "that is right, your grace. i am fortunate enough to not be in a situation like yours."

oh god.

maybe you shouldn't have said that.

your mother and father looked over at you with wide eyes. silence filling the circle. heeseung looked at you, seeming unmoved but then he cleared his throat and looked away. he scoffed and shook his head, a small smirk appearing on his face.

you put a hand over your mouth, "your grace, i am so sorry i didn't mean-"

heeseung put this hand up and nodded at you. "don't worry about it. i do appreciate some honesty every now and then especially since no one says those things to my face and instead behind my back." you weren't expecting him to be so understanding. you had heard only good things about the duke other than the fact that he was a womanizer but he was still a duke and the fact that you spoke to him that way was pretty unbecoming. you didn't know this man at all to be saying something so casual to him, you weren't so sure why or how you said something like that so easily.

"we apologize for her" my mother started, "i know it's no excuse but she has been pretty stressed out with the engagement and everything." she smiled at the duke.

heeseung looked as if he was about to open his mouth when a couple approached your parents and whisked them away before anything else could be said about you, leaving you and heeseung alone in each others presence.

heeseung looked at you before he took a few steps forward, getting closer to you. you felt your breathing stop as he got so close, close enough to where his scent filled your nostrils and he smelled amazing.

he leaned into you, his lips coming close to your ear and he whispered, "i don't appreciate a lady like you having an opinion on my personal matters. i'd be careful if i were you and watch what i say next time... especially to me."

your eyes widened as he leaned back and smiled. he took a bow before walking away from you and disappearing into the crowd of people. your face flushed and you quickly looked around to see if anyone caught sight of the interaction between you and the duke but it seemed that no one was looking and that made you let out a sigh of relief. you looked back to see if nikolaos was where you had left him but he was nowhere to be found.

heeseung wandered out into the courtyard. bringing a cigarette up to his lips, he heard footsteps come up behind him. turning his head, he saw his most trusted advisor, jake sim approaching him.

"i was wondering where you had wandered off to." jake said with a raise of his eyebrow, taking stand beside him. heeseung pulled the cigarette out from his mouth, letting out a puff of smoke. he clicked his tongue as he looked over at jake, "i would've thought you'd be off somewhere chatting it up with a lady."

jake let out a groan and threw his head back slightly, "as much as i would love to be doing that right now, i saw that little situation you had with lady y/n and when i saw that you took off, i thought it be best to come and find you. you disappeared pretty fast though, it took me a while."

"you saw that?" heeseung asked as he reached his cigarette out to jake to offer it to him. jake looked down at it and took it from heeseung, bringing it up to his lips. "i did, yes. i'm always keeping an eye out. although, it seems that even lady y/n was shocked at what had come out of her mouth" jake said with a laugh, "i've been hearing many things about her actually. she's the talk of the ton currently not falling far behind you."

heeseung rolled his eyes, "maybe they should be talking about her instead of me. she's the one who is actually getting married... not me."

"speaking of" jake said as he looked off to the side, drawing out a puff of smoke. "it's interesting really, her engagement to that man. they've known each other since they were children but lady y/n doesn't really seem to be the type to be able to marry a man like that."

heeseung scoffed, "what would you know? have you ever spoken to her?" a spike of curiosity rising in heeseung. he wasn't usually interested in the marriages and engagements going on in society but he himself was having a dilemma of being pushed to get married and even if he didn't want to, he needed to know what options were available to him or not.

"i hear around." jake says with a slight smile on his face, "i pay a lot of attention to gossip. i am your advisor, i need to know what's going on." he crossed his arms over his chest as he looked up at the night sky, "i've heard lady y/n is a pretty independent woman. it seems to get her into trouble a lot, an independent lady like her is not something that most men are looking for. her fiance was one of few willing to put up with that. she's been very open about not wanting to just idly stand by like a trophy for her husband."

heeseung raised an eyebrow at hearing this information, "like?"

jake smirked, "oh so you are curious?" heeseung rolled his eyes at jake and nudged his arm. "she tries her best to be helpful around her estate. she's always helping her father with things. she doesn't like just helping her mother plan out the balls, she's even gone on work trips with her father. she likes to be involved." jake continued to elaborate.

"i see..." heeseung hummed. he threw his cigarette to the ground and put it out with his foot. "does she seem like a romantic to you? do you think she seems like the type of woman to be in her husbands business?"

"what?" jake asked he shifted his body to heeseung so he was completely facing him now, "is she your type? you know she's engaged. you can't exactly just swoop up in there and propose to her-" heeseung put his finger up to jake's face to shush him, "i just need to see what the deal is. if she isn't in love, i've got a chance to offer her what nikolaos will not offer her in their marriage. she seems to be the only woman who would leave me be in a marriage."

"you dog" jake snarled at heeseung, "you just want someone who could care less about you then?"

heeseung smiled at jake as he patted his back, "exactly" he said to him before he walked off, heading back inside the mansion.

two weeks went by of you trying to plan your wedding with your mother and younger sisters. you had all sorts of ideas for the wedding but your mother wasn't exactly the easiest to plan with considering she kept on holding it off every chance she got.

the constant planning and meeting with nikolaos and his family was starting to open your eyes a little more to things that you hadn't even thought about before you got engaged. yes, nikolaos is the sweetest man you know but that doesn't mean there weren't a lot of things that the two of you didn't agree on. nikolaos was a traditional man and he didn't seem to be willing to give any of that up... even for you.

"i don't understand why you can't just let me be involved in some of the business stuff" you frowned at your fiance, "you won't even let me make any decisions? how is that fair if it's a family business!''

nikolaos let out a sigh as he turned to you, "exactly. my family business. you will be my wife, not my business partner. you are meant to stay at home and make decisions at home. not in matters of business. that's not how things work. you are needed at the estate. who will make the decisions at our home if you're not around?"

you felt as if you had been hit in the chest when he emphasized that it was his family business. you didn't think he meant to intentionally be mean by saying it but he said it and meant it. even though the two of you were to be married, he didn't yet see you as someone who was a part of his family. this only further made you feel as if you were an object of decoration for him.

the two of you were having this conversation as you went for a stroll at the public park, members from the both of your families following the two of you from not far behind. all you could think to yourself in that moment was that you needed to get away.

you tilted your head up as you stopped and looked over at nikolaos. "i can't continue with this conversation because i'm afraid that if we do, i will be pushing you into the river." nikolaos' eyes widened at your statement as he watched you continue to walk, "i need to be alone now."

you looked back at your mother and one of your younger sisters then glancing over at nikolaos' mother, "i will be heading off to walk on my own. i'll be in the area, i just need to be alone right now." before any of them could protest you quickly walked off, making your way over to the small bridge that went over the water a bit away. you didn't want to be anywhere near them either.

you leaned against the railing of the bridge, looking over and onto the water. the water was so clear you could see all of the fish swimming around in it. you soon started to feel tears start to prickle your eyes and to keep them from falling you tilted your head back and let out a deep breath.

"not sure if the lady y/n should be off on her own, don't you think?" you heard a somewhat familiar voice say off to the side of you.

you turned your head to see heeseung standing at the end of the bridge with his hands behind his back. he slowly began to approach you with a smirk on his face, finding his place to stand right next to you.

you cleared your throat and bowed slightly, "your grace."

heeseung let out a low laugh and when he did you honestly thought you've never heard anything more beautiful. "formalities? you surprise me. seems you still have manners."

you lowered your head, turning your body to completely face him. "your grace, i am so sorry about that night i really didn't mean to offend you. i just truly... wouldn't wish to be in your position."

heeseung glanced at you before then turning to look down at the water. he leaned against the railing, placing his arms over it so his hands were now dangling over. "aren't you kind of though?"

"excuse me?"

"this marriage, it's something you thought you've always wanted. yet now your feelings are changing about it. or am i wrong?"

you scoffed at the duke. he looked down at the water completely unphased and you hated his arrogance about it. how did he even know about your situation anyways? you thought to yourself.

"i know things" he smiled, "i am the duke, no? i've got my sources of information. plus your heated conversation with nikolaos wasn't exactly low profile like you thought it was. i've done my research. i know the kind of man he is and the kind of woman you are" he said before he looked at you, "you'll be miserable."

your face immediately heated up at his words and you mentally cursed at yourself for it. he knew everything and he spoke of you as if he knew you and something about it made your heart do a million flips. you should have been weirded out, maybe even a little terrified but how could you be when this gorgeous man stood in front of you saying exactly all of the things that you were thinking?

"what are you saying, your grace? i am engaged. this isn't something i can't exactly back out of and i can't seem to change my fiancé's opinion on the matter." you said to him, desperately wanting his eyes to meet yours once again.

heeseung leaned back, placing his hands behind his back once again. his eyes found yours and he took a few steps towards you, "anything is possible, no? i propose..." he started as he reached his hand out and grabbed your gloved hand, "that you come and marry me instead."

you gasped at the contact and although you didn't feel him with your bare skin it was still something and feeling his thumb caress your hand was making you feel all sorts of unbelievable things. you looked up at him with wide eyes, "m-marry you? what are you talking about? you're already engaged and... why me?!"

heeseung pulled his hand away from you, "don't get me wrong my lady, this is purely business. i need to get married because my grandmother keeps pestering me about it and it would be good for the estate and my image. falling in love is not something that interests me at the moment and well you... you want a marriage in which your husband will let you do as you please, no? let you involve yourself instead of keep you home to bear his children. letting you have decisions in regards to my business matters is something i am willing to do."

right, of course. the duke was known as a playboy. falling in love was of course something he didn't care about, a marriage simply for his public image where his wife could care less about what he does in his free time is the ideal arrangement for him. while that wasn't something you were looking for and if anything, you thought yourself to be somewhat a hopeless romantic, a marriage to the duke seemed a million times better than a one to nikolaos at the moment.

you don't even think you were thinking clearly in that moment because without thinking for more than a minute you quickly nodded your head at the duke.

"i'll do it. i'll marry you."

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shanastoryteller · 9 months

Note

Happy Christmas Shana! May I ask for some Merlin and Arthur? Maybe the time travel Ygraine one, or something else entirely 🎁🎄🎅🏻

Queen Ygraine is cursed to die during childbirth and the baby is stolen from his very crib that same night.

Uther rages. The grief and the fury of losing them both leave him a broken man and a broken king. The grounds of Camelot turn to mud with all the blood he's spilled and the air turns grey and harsh from the burnings. He sends knights to every corner of his kingdom, but his son remains missing, not even a body to be found.

Tristan and Agravaine de Bois send letters, blaming Uther for their sister and nephew's death and proclaiming they are subjects of Uther's no more. It's a blip in torrent of grief - Uther can't even pretend to mourn the loss of his brothers in law in the face of that of his wife and son.

"I still think we should have killed him," Tristan says, watching the servants pack up the contents of their manor with a scowl.

"He would have killed you and then I'd be stuck doing this alone," Agravaine replies, a blond, blue eyed infant in his arms. "So our revenge will have to wait."

"Alone?" Nimueh scoffs. "Thanks. Is this not revenge enough?"

Tristan softens, reaching out to brush the back of his index finger against Arthur's chubby cheek. "He's not revenge. He's our nephew."

Agravaine briefly tightens his hold on the babe before relaxing. "Where are we going? I suppose Mercia is the obvious choice."

"That old man won't be able to help gloating to Uther and we don't want him giving us a second glance," Tristan says. "Cendred's kingdom is a better choice, I think. That's our where our grandfather's castle is anyway."

The two of them plus a sorceress should be more than compelling enough additions to his court for Cendred to relinquish it back to them. Or at least turn a blind eye when they take it back themselves.

Merlin is fourteen and standing by his mother's side, keeping his head down and not moving or thinking or looking or anything as the lords come to collect taxes.

No matter what they say, no matter what they do, he's not to move.

There's cries of pain from the smith as one of the lords kicks him down, shouting at him for how little they have. He's the most educated man in the village, he's the one that keeps track. He's the one that warns them how short they are.

They are especially short this year.

There's the sound of sword being unsheathed and Merlin resists the urge to bury his head in his mother's shoulder. He's not suppsosed to move.

"Oh, for goddess's sake," a new, young voice says. He doesn't sound that much older than Merlin. "This is a waste of time. If you cut off his head, will gold coins fall out?"

"We're here to collect taxes!" he insists.

The young lord scoffs. "And if we were sent to squeeze blood from a stone, how long would you spend with your hands pressing into bedrock? Look at them!"

"We can't just let them get away with it," he argues. "If you're father hears about this-"

"He'll hear about it because I'll tell him myself," he says, annoyed. "We could take everything they have and we'll still lose money when they starve to death and we have to send people to bury the bodies or risk disease settling in. The wages for those soldiers will cost far more than everything this little village has to offer."

"They're on our land, they pay the tax!"

The young lord's voice goes hard. "I think you'll see that they're on my father's land and it's ultimately his responsibility to collect taxes for the king. Which means this is decision, not yours."

"Yes, and he decided that-"

"Well I'm deciding differently and he can yell at me about it then!" he snaps. "Put your sword away before I draw mine."

There's a tense, heavy silence. Then there's the sound of a sword going back in its sheathe and, "Yes, Lord de Bois."

Lord de Bois sighs and then raises his voice so his voice carries travels to everyone standing there, to the whole village standing there and waiting. "I'll return within the week. If there's any sort of bookkeeping you have, gather it for me."

"Y-yes, my lord," the blacksmith stutters.

There's the sound of footsteps then hooves.

He lifts his head and only sees the back of the young Lord de Bois's blond head.

Merlin wonders if when he returns, he'll be allowed to look.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #merlin

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aeithalian · 1 month

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What even are the ancient laws?

I've been meaning to get around to this one for ages.

Anyways! Good question, guys! Answer: nobody fucking knows. Sure, we have good ideas. The laws are mentioned every now and then as a "oh, no little mortal child I can't help you - that's against the ancient laws. But hey! You can help me."

Let's be honest: the ancient laws, while there might be legitimate reasons for some of them, have transformed into yet another way that the gods hold themselves as the high and mighty overlords of the world, and keep their mortal offspring below them at all costs. But... why? Are the demigods really that dangerous to the gods? The answer: yes, but not to the gods - to Zeus.

Let's start from the beginning and list out everything we know about the laws. I did the hard work, you're welcome:

1. Gods cannot steal each others' symbols of power.

2. A god cannot initiate a fight with a mortal.

3. No direct interference - gods are not allowed to interfere in the lives and ongoings of mortals or monsters.

4. No more than 3 people are allowed on a quest.

5. Harming the sacred animals of a god is forbidden.

And that's it. Those are the only true mentions of the Ancient Laws in the entirety of the Riordanverse (at least, the Greco-Roman books).

And I think we all know what the most important one is. Direct Interference is the only one we see Zeus actively enforcing (or at least attempting to). But why is that? Well, stealing another god's symbol of power and initiating a battle with a mortal are physically impossible for gods, and the ban on harming a sacred animal is very commonly accepted already, as it's a guaranteed way to get your ass whooped. And the rule about having 3 on a quest isn't really something Zeus is going to spare the effort to enforce - starting a quest with more than 3 will typically guarantee that you come home with only 3, if at all.

But Direct Interference is the most interesting law, simply because it's the one that our demigod narrators are affected by the most, either in the ways their godly parents violate it, or refuse to do so.

There's plenty of instances where this law has had quite a bit of impact on the story and relationships. For example, Hermes used this law as a major reason why he could not help Luke or prevent him from raising Kronos. But let's be honest: besides Zeus himself, Hermes might be one of the only gods that actually obey this rule, despite the fact that he wants to break it. Just off the top of my head, I can name an instance in the series where every single Olympian at least toed the line of violating Direct Interference, except for maybe Demeter. And I'm not sure Dionysus counts, since he has contact with his half-blood children because of his position at CHB.

But there's something interesting even about the ways these gods break the law of Direct Interference. In most instances, these interactions with mortals happen when the god is in disguise, or through dreams. And, based on how little it seems like the gods get punished for breaking Direct Interference, we can only assume that Zeus is not aware of when gods talk to demigods via dreams. I mean, he's probably aware that it happens: Apollo, Poseidon, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Hera, Ares (who occasionally follows the rule, but only as an excuse to not help a demigod out), Artemis (although she is subject to exceptions due to her domain), Dionysus, Athena (I think?), and Hades all do it at least once in the RRverse. I mean, you could also argue that dreams are a more indirect means if interference, but I can also see how that's an iffy argument at best.

So, what does this mean? If there is one thing I know about laws and rules in general is that people tend to break laws if the direct consequences of their own actions don't directly apply to them. Gods would probably respect the law of Direct Interference more if there was an immediate negative effect on themselves, aside from just the punishment.

Think of a law or a rule that people break all the time. Littering, for example. People do it all the time, even though it's bad. But why is it bad? A person who doesn't have a lot of forethought will drop a piece of trash and say 'hey, that doesn't affect me. The planet will suffer and this will be a pain in the ass to clean up, but I'm not the one cleaning it up, so why do I care?' If you don't care about the planet or other people cleaning up your trash, the only reason you have to not litter is that you're afraid of the punishment.

I think the attitude towards Direct Interference is similar. The only reason a god would obey is if they're afraid of the punishment, or if they respect Zeus enough to follow his laws (which, clearly, is not the norm in godly society). And even then, what is a punishment to an immortal being? The only way Zeus punishes gods that really matters to them is turning them mortal - and that's a very rare occurrence.

By that logic, we can assume that a violation of Direct Interference does not actually negatively affect gods all that much. To be honest, it doesn't negatively affect mortals either. Maybe monsters have the short end of the stick, but monsters didn't write the law of Direct Interference - Zeus did. So... why? Why does it exist?

My first thought was the Fates and prophecy - if gods can interact in mortal life without recourse, then it might fuck with the way the Fates operate. But gods have been interfering for the entirety of civilization. If they really had a the power to alter the future just by dipping a toe in mortal life, don't you think it would have been obvious? Even in the RRverse, there are plenty of instances, as I've mentioned, that gods have interfered in a quest, and said quest wasn't severely fucked over because of that interference. Take, for instance, Percy's quest to save Artemis - Apollo intervened, but where were the consequences of that? Where were the earth-shattering effects?

So what gives? Also, I'd argue that the gods would actually obey the law more if they knew it had such a negative effect on the proper functioning of the Fates, especially Apollo since that's his domain. So I'm going to say that's not the case.

So we're back to the first question: why does the law against Direct Interference exist if it has no effect on the gods or the Fates? In all references to the law against Direct Interference in the Riordanverse, never once is it explained why this law exists. Why would Zeus create it if violating it doesn't have some major world-ending effect? Gods are gods: what could make this law so important that it's the only one Zeus makes a true effort to enforce?

Well, it makes sense to me that Zeus would create the law if he's the one who has to bear the immediate consequences of it. Which raises the question: what are the immediate consequences? What reason could Zeus possibly have to separate half-blood children from their godly parents? HMmmmmmmMMMM.

Well, there's another interesting thing about the Ancient Laws: some of them don't apply to mortals. Mortals can steal a god's symbol of power, and mortals can initiate battles with gods. Imagine with me a scenario in which your enemy has an army that is not subject to the same laws you are. Gods are (as far as I know) physically incapable of stealing symbols of power and starting battles with mortals, but what does that matter if they have half-blood children that reach the power of minor gods, like Percy, who can do that for you?

It's a terrifying premise, if you're Zeus. And before you start telling me that I'm going down yet another far-fetched rabbit hole (listen - I always make sense in the end), we've seen Zeus go down this line of thought before, all the way back in The Lightning Thief. Remember???

Chiron said that the reason Zeus blamed Percy for stealing the Master Bolt was because the mines the Cyclopes used to forge the bolts is close to Poseidon's domain, and he thinks Poseidon has it out for him. Now, there's a theory running around the TOA fandom that gods can control how much power they hand off to their children (as seen with Apollo's children, who rarely inherit the power of prophecy, which we're willing to bet is something Apollo is controlling from behind the scenes), and if Zeus knew that Poseidon had had a child, it's possible Zeus thought Poseidon was trying to create a super-child just for the sake of overthrowing him. I'm willing to bet that one of his greatest fears is that an über-powerful child of one of his brothers would be used to steal his symbol of power and then overthrow him. He views demigod children like weapons that his enemies can use because they could be inherently dangerous to the standard structure of godly society. His main fear is somebody with the motivation of Luke having the power of Percy. And what do paranoid kings do when presented with the idea of their greatest fears? Make laws against them.

The only way Zeus could be sure that Poseidon would never intentionally have a child like Percy, then bring him under his wing just in time to start a rebellion against him is to ban that kind of interaction at all.

Counterpoint: you could also say that the law against Direct Interference was a way to protect the mortals against the gods who might harm them or do them dirty. Like getting women pregnant while in the form of a swan. Ahem ahem. Do you get my point, though? It's not like Zeus has any real reason to protect the mortals in this way, since he was one of the main perpetrators anyways, but it is a damn good excuse if he also wanted a reason to prevent a potential revolution led by demigods.

Now, if you'll bear with me for a little bit longer, there is one more interesting thing I'd like to point out: In the entirety of Trials of Apollo, Apollo (a god, obviously) only mentions following the Ancient Laws once. Unsurprisingly, at the time he's mentioning the law against Direct Interference, he's also violating it - when he kills Commodus to save lives, Rome, and for his own peace of mind. So, to me this basically means that Apollo doesn't give two single shits about following laws against Direct Interference.

Connect that with everything else we know about Apollo post-trials: he loves his kids, doesn't want to see them hurt, and is trying to distance himself from Zeus and godly society. Even pre-trials, he doesn't have any trouble admitting that Zeus makes his rules and laws difficult to follow - nobody is good enough in Zeus' eyes. I truly believe, if there's any person who, given the proper means and motivation to overthrow at least some aspects of the Direct Interference law, he would.

Just saying. Feel free to add on if anybody else has more thoughts!

[a masterlist of my other metas]

#riordanverse #toa #trials of apollo #apollogists #pjo #lester papadopoulos #apollo #percy jackson #meta #theory #fan theory #ancient laws #pjo apollo #pjo zeus

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suashii · 1 year

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୨♡୧ MIDNIGHT CONFESSION — suna rintaro x reader. sfw. fluff.

requested by @nagicore for my rin round up event!

there's a knock on your door, loud enough for you to hear over the movie playing on your tv. it startles you; maybe because it's so late or maybe because the sound isn't one you're used to hearing. you've grown accustomed to suna's lack of knocking in your time living with him.

"come in," you shout, hoping your voice is audible on the other side of the door. it swings open, revealing suna in his pikachu pajama pants and an old inarizaki volleyball hoodie. they don't match in the slightest but that much brings a small smile to your face.

your eyes flit up to his. "I didn't know you knew what knocking was."

he shrugs. "I didn't want to just walk in if you were sleeping."

"how considerate," you drawl, turning back to your movie. from the corner of your eye, you can see suna standing still in your doorway. "what's up?"

"can I sleep in here tonight?"

the question catches you a bit off guard. it's not that you haven't slept with suna before, but it's never been intentional. you can't count the number of times the two of you have passed out on the couch after staying up late talking about everything and nothing or falling down the rabbit hole of strange youtube videos. the thought of him purposefully wanting to sleep beside you quickens your heartbeat, makes your mind race. "why? is something wrong with your bed?"

"i spilled soy sauce on my sheets," he admits, though, he doesn't seem embarrassed by his actions. "they're in the washing machine."

you shake your head at his clumsiness. "i told you eating in your bed would make a mess."

"is that a yes?" he asks.

you chew the inside of your cheek while silently contemplating your answer. suna's motives seem innocent enough—not that you imagine he would try anything. what you are worried about is the impromptu sleepover surfacing some feelings you've been trying incredibly hard to bury.

despite your concern, you can't find it in you to turn suna away. you'll just have to be careful to keep your silly little crush from making itself known. you pull back the covers and pat your mattress. "get comfortable."

finally, suna steps out of your doorway and into your bedroom. he kicks his slippers off before sitting beside you and swinging his legs onto the bed. even with your gaze glued to the tv, the dip in the mattress—just knowing suna's so close—makes the tips of your ears burn.

his movement still after a few seconds and you hope the lack of motion will be enough for you to calm down and compose yourself. you try to focus on the film you'd been watching before he entered but without even looking you can tell suna's eyes are on you. a quick glance confirms your suspicions.

you turn to face him. "why are you staring at me?"

"i'm not," he replies so quickly that it comes off as practiced. a direct contradiction to his words, he continues to look at you.

"you're literally staring at me right now," you argue with a shaky laugh. to be the subject of his intense grayish-yellow gaze makes it nearly impossible to act normal around him. "is there something on my face?"

suna shakes his head. "you're just really pretty when you're nervous."

the heat in your ears spreads to your cheeks and even further down your neck as you process his words. he couldn't have meant them the way your mind assumed. he's always been the joking type. "stop it. don't tease me."

you move to turn to the tv once more but suna's hand reaches out to cup your cheek, gently directing your line of sight back to him. his palm is cold against your skin, almost icy enough that you want to pull away from it. you don't though, choosing to cherish the touch you've never felt before.

"i'm serious," he says and you can tell by his voice that he means it. "you're really pretty."

your eyes scan his face and, just like his words, any evidence of jesting is absent. you blink to be sure and his expression is unchanging. this isn't how you imagined coming clean with your feelings would go—hell, you couldn't be sure that suna even reciprocated them. now, in the moment that he's made his stance clear, you're at a loss for words.

infinite responses bounce around in your skull but none of them make it to your lips. you fear that your silence may give the man the wrong idea so you spit out the first reply that you can manage to string together. "um, you're... really pretty, too."

suna smiles at that, one that reaches his eyes. “im glad you think so."

suna supposes he could have scoured through his closet in search of an extra set of sheets. he supposed he could have walked straight past your room and camped out on the couch for the night. but something compelled him to stop in front of your door—maybe his heart or maybe his curiosity. he figures both played a part in his decision to knock on your door. after all, he just wanted to see if you might feel the same.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna rintaro #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #suna scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

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cypressvs · 1 year

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HEAD EMPTY, JUST WANNA FUCK YOU PT. 2

pairing: caelus/f!reader, dan heng/f!reader, gepard/f!reader (separate)

cw: (all) sexual fantasies, unconventional turn-ons, they’re all pervs, (caelus) established relationship, gross misuse of lotion?, cum play, hand job, cum eating, mutual masturbation, cumming in pants, he calls you ‘princess,’ (dan heng) m!masturbation, reader wears a skirt, gross misuse of social media pictures, pussy job, overstimulation, marking, cunnilingus, (gepard) reader has long, manicured nails, hand job, choking?, making out, marking, creampie

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CAELUS' eyes can't help but wander sometimes. He doesn't mean to have his attention waver! It's just how he is so it's no surprise that he's slowly zoning your voice out as his eyes traced over your movements like a hawk to its breakfast. You were talking about... what was it... Fragmentums? He wants to apologize but it's not his fault that whatever the subject of your conversation was is so boring compared to how your hands slowly rubbed against each other, a creamy liquid being pushed in between your fingers and under your fingernails. It smells so good too—a feminine maturity with a dark undertone that knocks the breath out of his throat. He watches the way your fingers slowly circled around your knuckles, pressing and massaging each with tender care before sliding your hands up your arms. Your motion causes your skin to ripple gently, bouncing back to shape tantalizingly as the lotion goes from opaque to translucent. His dick throbs at that. Lust sinks its claws into his head and suddenly, the air is too hot because... because what if it wasn't lotion? What if it was his cum that's dripping from your hands? What if after you pumped him dry with your soft hands, you'd rub at your fingers and bring it to your mouth—eyes solely focused on him before they flutter close as you sucked them dry, moaning at the salty taste of him before reaching out and clawing for more? Would you let him fuck into his palm as he watches you squeeze at your flesh, tracing fine lines with another hand as you reached down to your heat? Caelus thinks you'd look so, so pretty as your fingers mimic the way you'd draw circles over your knuckles to your nub—the prettiest as you knock your head back, lips parted in a silent moan as tears well up in your eyes. You'd tell him to "please, please hurry, Caelus!" and he will because there's nothing he won't do for his precious princess. He'll chase his high through the beautiful sight of you and he'll come over your bare chest, using the tip of his cock to spread and paint a love heart over your flushed skin. What can you say? That's just how much he loves you. You'll forgive him for how dirty his thoughts are, right? And for making a mess on your sheets, a dark, wet patch spreading over your comforters as it drips past and down his pants.

DAN HENG prides himself over his control over his sexual needs. In fact, he'd argue that he didn't have much of a libido to worry about in his day-to-day affairs. Ah, but... That was all before you. Something about you has him clenching his teeth, whites of his knuckles appearing as he tried to force the downright disrespectful image of you in his wild, wild thoughts. He's just about flipped you in a hundred different positions in his mind while you cling to his arm, unknowing of how much he's lewding you. Even now, as you lay in peace and secure under the warmth of your blankets, Dan Heng shoves himself in the corner of the archives, pants unbuckled and half-way down his toned thighs as he tried to muffle his sensual groans. It's dark and everyone's already sound asleep and yet, here he was, disregarding the fact that he's a member of the expedition team for tomorrow's mission in favor of rutting up the hand coiled around his twitching cock. It's so unlike him to be so depraved that he can only moan louder around the hem of his shirt that's caught in between his teeth. The way the cool air hit his exposed stomach made him avert his gaze, unluckily—or not—back to the object of his desires. He uses his free hand to reach for his phone, the only light in the room that could illuminate how reddened his cheeks have become. Dilated eyes stared at your profile, fingers spreading to zoom at the patch of skin taunting his heady daze. It's so innocent; how you're beaming at the camera and how you chose such a cute outfit, such a cute mini-skirt for him to rub his cock raw over. Dan Heng's cusses as more fluid oozes out. It's just so invigorating how your thighs looked so heavenly in that skirt, and he's torn between wanting to flip it over to glide his hardened cock over your moist folds until both of your are screaming from oversensitivity or shoving his face in between them, tonguing and leaving hickies over your thighs before sucking the life out of your swollen clit. He lets out the prettiest pants as he approaches his climax and he wonders... Would you be disgusted with him if you saw him like this, disheveled from the need to fuck you dumb? Or would you smile at him like you are now through your picture, encouraging the corrupted descent of his mind? Dan Heng could only wonder about it as cum oozes out of his poor, overused dick—spurting even on his phone, conveniently over your untouched thighs.

GEPARD knows it's wrong; that it goes against not only the Silvermane Guards' code of conduct but also his personal moral standards to think about you with such degeneracy when you're not even doing anything that can come across as a sexual insinuation. Still, against all the fiber and nerve in his body, his heart races. It thumps against his ribcage, pumping blood to his head, making his vision spin and to his cock that strains against the constraints of his pants. He tries to shake it off, thinking of all sorts of tragic things just to remove the weight of immorality over his shoulders but you fan your fingers over his face and fuck—he's a goner. You tap your nails over the metal part of his uniform, giggling guiltlessly as you flaunt your freshly done nails. They're so pretty, you nearly squeal and he agrees. They're so pretty that he can picture them so vividly spreading and gripping his white, linen sheets. The colors would pop up in contrast so well and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from tangling his own over yours as he fucked himself into your squelching pussy from behind. You point out the embellishments you had added and all he can think about is how good it'll feel as you use your nails to graze over his thick cock. You'll giggle cutely into his ear before taking him into your hand, pumping him teasingly at first before you pick up the pace as you feel him press at your throat, guiding you to a sloppy, wet kiss. You'll feel him licking at your teeth, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth while his hand remains as a firm reminder around your neck, and when he bites harshly at your lip, you'll know he's cumming—making a mess all over your fingers. You'll complain about him ruining your manicure and he's pressing apologetic kisses over your mounds. Maybe then, he'll finally let you have a glimpse of why he loves your nails so much. It's so obvious when he gently pushes you to lie on his bed; when he parts your legs and pushes his leaky cock into you; when he purposefully lowers himself while slowly stretching you out. He makes you feel every inch he takes because it makes you so desperate, whining into his ear and reaching around to dig fine, red lines behind his back. The sweet pain from your needy clawing drives him crazy and he's sure that he'll cum if he didn't pause for a bit. You're both already so fucked out but he's not done yet. He plows into you with all the strength and stamina he gained from being a captain and he never slows—just ruts into you like a rabid animal and only after you engrave small crescents over his chest does he shoot his load deep inside of you. He comes back to reality when you snap your fingers in front of him. You miss the dark look in his eyes when he chuckles and disregards your concern with an offer to pay for your next manicure trip.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x you #caelus x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail smut #hsr imagines #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x female reader #hsr x female reader #hsr dan heng #hsr gepard #hsr caelus #[ update ! ] — ambrosia injected successfully !

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redroses07 · 4 months

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Promise//Sam Winchester

Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam is having doubts about reader going on hunts with him and Dean, but they finally decide to come to an agreement that will make them both happy.

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, oral (fem! receiving), fingering, subby Sam, angsty Sam, death, violence (the basics lol), mention of Jess.

WC: 1.5k

A/N: Hey guys!!!! Sam is my baby so I wanted to write something for him! Anyways I really like this fic and plot so I hope y’all enjoy it too! love y’all ♡

Sam was always hesitant to take you on hunts, after all you only knew about the business because of him.

Sure there were parts of his job that were rewarding, which made it worthwhile; but there were also parts that he resented. Such as the constant danger, the danger that he tried his best to keep you away from. His worst fear was you ending up like Jess…and that it would all be his fault.

At first you were content with staying behind while Sam and Dean did their thing. But as you learned more about what they did, you grew tired of the lonely hotel rooms. You became restless every time they left, unable to sit back while your boyfriend subjected himself to such horrors.

This is what prompted the argument the two of you were currently having.

“Sam, please let me come just this once!” you retorted.

“I want to be there, I understood at first, but I know what I’m getting myself into now!”

“I’m prepared, you and Dean have taught me everything you know.”

Sam pressed his fingers to his furrowed brow, frustrated.

You could see you were upsetting him, but did he really think you would never have to have this conversation?

“Jesus, Sammy! Let her go, we need an extra pair of hands anyways.” Dean argued, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“I said No!” Sam snapped.

Sam turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, letting his head fall into his hands.

You gave Dean a look, as if to say ‘get out, we need some privacy’.

Surprisingly, he understood.

“I’ll be in the Impala, y’all let me know when you’re ready so we can get to work.”

Dean gave you a nod as he walked out the door, swiftly shutting it behind him.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

This was a sensitive subject for Sam, you had to remember, and one that came from a place of love.

“Sammy, love, I know you’re worried, but think of everything you and Dean have survived. Why would I be any different?” You spoke softly, almost as if you were afraid someone might hear.

Sam looked up, his eyes tinged with red, and tears forming around the rim. It was a look of loneliness, of longing, and you knew he needed you the most in this moment.

You walked over to him. You remained standing while he continued to sit.

Sam leaned his head against your stomach.

You could feel his short breaths through your thin shirt, and you knew he was fighting tears. Vulnerability was hard for Sam, and you wanted to do everything possible to make him comfortable.

You wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him even closer. You traced your fingers through his messy, yet soft, brown locks.

Sam sniffled, and you knew by the wet spots you felt on your shirt that he has finally let the tears fall.

You finally decided to sit down, bringing Sam's head up to your shoulder as you did.

"I love you, you know that's why this is so hard for me right?" Sam said finally.

He lifted his head off of you in order to look you in the eye. His bangs hung loosely in front of his face, almost as if they were trying to hide his sad eyes.

"Baby, I know, but you can't let fear control our lives." You moved his hair out of his eyes, and cupped his face with your hands.

Sam nodded as he sank into your touch.

"I know...but I guess, I guess I don't know how."

"How about I promise you this."

Sam looked at you in curiosity.

"You let me come along, but when something becomes too dangerous, you say the word and I'll step to the side."

Sam thought about it for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he did.

"Okay, but you can't let your stubbornness get in the way."

You gasped playfully.

"Sam Winchester I can't believe you're calling me stubborn!"

The two of you shared a moment of laughter before the heavy reality settled in.

"I promise." You pressed your forehead to Sam's as a way to seal the promise, your personal spin on a pinky swear.

Only then did you notice the tension between the two of you, and the urge to feel his lips on yours.

Sam pressed a finger to your lips, his warmth seeping into the soft flesh. You took it in your mouth, running tongue and teeth over it, tasting him.

Sam was the one to break the invisible barrier between the two of you, smashing his lips against yours.

It was a hungry, fiery, passionate kiss. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had shared one like it.

Sam pushed you back, your head hitting the crappy motel mattress. You didn’t care. You needed him, to feel him everywhere all at once.

You gasped as Sam finally removed his lips from yours, but only to move down to your neck and collarbone.

Sam’s hands snaked down your body, reaching your hips and eventually the rim of your jeans.

“Wanna make you feel good, baby.” Sam said breathlessly as he began to fool with the button.

“Aww you don’t have to, you’ve already made me feel so good.” You replied softly.

“Well then I wanna make you feel better than good.” Sam mumbled as he pulled your jeans off your hips. Now there was no way to hide how soaked you were.

Sam gave you a knowing look before removing your panties.

He wasted no time getting to work, shoving two of his fingers deep inside you. He always knew exactly where to put them, hitting that spot that made you roll your hips into him.

“Jesus.” You gasped, the sudden wave of pleasure was almost unbearable.

Sam pumped his fingers in and out of you, and you were surprised by how fast you were reaching your high.

Sure, it had been a while, especially since Sam had been so busy recently; but you didn’t realize how much you had missed this until now.

Sam pulled his fingers out, licking the remnants off.

That must have made him want more because he immediately shoved his face into your pussy.

Sam licked up your wetness before moving to circle his tongue around your clit.

You moaned loudly and reached your hands out to tangle them in his. You pulled softly, giving you something else to focus on other than the fact that you wanted to scream out in pleasure.

“You’re doing so good baby.” You mumbled, making sure he received some much earned praise.

You were so close to your climax when you heard the door swing open.

You knew it was Dean before you even saw him, and you rolled over quickly shoving Sam off of you.

“Jesus Christ. Put your Goddamn clothes on and get your asses in the car.” Dean shouted before slamming the door.

You stopped scrambling to get dressed and let your heads fall into your hands with embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’ve walked in on him in much worse positions.” Sam laughed.

“One time when-“

You cut him off.

“I’m gonna stop you right there because I would prefer not to learn about your brothers extra curricular activities.”

You shared a moment of laughter before you stood up and finished putting your clothes on.

“I’m glad we had this talk.” Sam pulled you into his chest and kissed you on the forehead.

“Are you sure it was the talking part you liked?” You looked up at him.

He eyed you suspiciously as if to say “you know what I meant.”

You responded by giving him a quick peck on the lips, deciding not to think about the fact that you could still taste yourself on him.

“Let’s go before Dean kills us.”

You grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him behind you, still ever intent upon keeping your promise.

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goldenempyrean · 4 months

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Hello, would you mind writing a fic with Sicknat x reader on a mission? with phrases like: “I'm never sick” “it's just a little tired” “it's all Tony's fault. I will kill him” “take care of yourself” ?

Caring For A Widow

〚 Notes - Jeez, this request is old! I’m gonna try and get through some of my old ones over the next week :D I thought I'd start with this as I haven't written my fav redhead in a while! :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Natasha let's you take care of her when a mission goes sideways. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1044 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“I swear I’m gonna kill Tony.” Came the annoyed grumble from the redhead leaning against your chest, “This is his fault.” She sniffled, rubbing her nose roughly against the sleeve of her hoodie, rolling her eyes when you chided her for not using a tissue instead.

To be fair to her though, this wasn’t exactly the best of situations. You were both huddled in a tiny safe house in the middle of nowhere, having just narrowly escaped an ambush during your mission and to make things worse, Nat wasn’t feeling great.

She’d mentioned it in passing a few days ago that her throat had hurt but it had been such a busy few days you hadn’t thought to check up on her. Of course, she hadn’t told you when it had gotten worse, she was Natasha after all - as stoic as ever. But now she was here, miserably ill in a cold, unfamiliar house just longing to be back home.

“I’m never sick,” Nat mumbled solemnly, though her congested voice and the deepening circles under her eyes betrayed her. She curled tighter against you, seeking warmth in the drafty safe house.

“I know, I know,” You replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her clammy forehead. “Your timing sucks.” 

She lifted her head just enough to shoot you a look but with the way she was cuddled against you, it held no malice behind it. “Have you told the team we need extraction already?” Nat changed the subject and pushed herself up a little to peer at the laptop which you’d been quietly working on as it sat on your knees.

You nodded, tilting the screen down so she could see it properly, “They know. Steve wants to be cautious of using air space since they clearly knew we were coming so he’s organising us a car instead.” The redhead stifled a yawn as you explained and you paused to lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, “It’ll be a few hours before it arrives, so we’ve just got to camp out here for a bit.”

Natasha shivered against you a little, pulling her hoodie a little closer to her. “You can't shake those chills can you baby?”

“No.” She mumbled thickly, unable to hold back a second shiver.

She turned away to muffle a rough cough into her arm and you gave a sympathetic pout in return before having an idea, “Alright, stay put," You instructed gently, pressing a comforting kiss to her temple before carefully slipping out from beneath her.

You knew that she needed something to soothe that throat of hers, so what better than tea. The kitchen of the safe house was sparse, but you smiled to yourself as you managed to find a small kettle and some basic supplies. This’ll do.

You filled the kettle and set it to boil, whilst it began to heat up, you returned to Nat's side. "Come on sweetheart, let's get you into a hot bath," You said gently, offering her a hand to stand up.

The redhead hesitated, clearly not wanting to move from her spot. It was strange to see her so lethargic, “A bath?" She echoed, her voice hoarse and congested.

“Mhm.” Your hum of agreement was followed by small smile, “You like taking baths when you’re not feeling well.” She couldn’t argue with that, instead sniffled quietly before pushing her knuckles up to the underside of her nose before stifling a sharp sneeze.

“It’ll help clear up some of that congestion too.” You added when she groaned quietly to herself, sniffling at her red nose again. The safe house was small, that couldn’t be argued but at least this one was relatively modern meaning luckily for you two, the hot water was actually hot instead of barely lukewarm as many of the other houses had.

It didn’t take long to run. Once the bath was ready, you helped her ease into the tub. Natasha murmured a grateful “Thank you” and let out a small sigh as the warm water seemed to relieve the tension in her shoulders and muscles.

While she soaked, you returned to the tiny kitchen area, preparing the tea. You found some honey and added a generous spoonful, knowing it would soothe her sore throat. As the tea steeped, you went back to check on her.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, leaning against the old, wooden doorframe.

Natasha had her eyes closed, the steam from the bath working wonders on her congestion. "Better," she admitted, her voice already sounding a touch clearer. "Thank you."

“Don’t fall asleep in there, let me know if you need anything, okay?” You smiled and left her to relax for a while longer, returning to pour the tea into a mug. You knew Nat appreciated everything you were doing to take care of her, but you also knew how important it was for her to decompress alone for a little. 

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with damp hair clinging to her neck, you were waiting with the warm drink in hand.

She accepted the mug gratefully, taking a careful sip. "This is nice," she murmured, her voice softening a little as her sleepy eyes blinked to keep herself focused. You knew the residual heat from the bath and the tea were probably making her tired.

"Good," You smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her back to the makeshift bed. "Now, let's get you wrapped up in some blankets and you can nap until extraction gets here.”

It seemed she was too tired to argue about napping (she usually would make a fuss about wanting to be on alert just incase) and instead, she allowed you to tend to her a little as you tucked her in. Natasha settled against the pillows; the tea cradled in her hands. You sat beside her, one hand gently stroking her damp hair.

"I still want to kill Tony," She mumbled sleepily, though there was no real bite in her words, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before she fell asleep against you.

You chuckled softly, kissing her forehead once more, “We'll save that for when you're feeling better."

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mschievousx · 4 months

Text

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

iv. four: you were right for me

"why would you need to go? the hawkins balloon will be tomorrow."

loraine silva finds herself at her father's study, planting her head on her hands above his table in an attempt to act endearing enough and change his mind.

she pouted, whining to him, "i am not interested with the gas laws related to balloons. i have read them enough."

"what is in this scientific convention then?" armand placed his pen down and removed his glasses, fully putting his attention to his daughter.

"chemistry and medicine!" she exclaimed with exciteness in her voice.

"hm? i thought you like engineering."

"i do, but it's not everyday you can practice chemistry and medicine." she argues. although the girl loves engineering above both subjects, the opportunity to witness these two does not come as often, "aside from the difficulty of obtaining chemicals, it also must be supervised closely."

he narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms strictly, "you're not helping your case. that means it would be dangerous."

raine pouted at him, her chances of attending continues to decline, "they are professionals and experts, likely recognised by the queen to be able to conduct such a grand expo."

"you have not been doing much of the work of a viscountess." he sternly added.

"papa, it is my very first season." she stood up, rounding the table to her father's side, clasping both hands as if on a prayer, "please? i will surely attend to everything after the season."

her father made no attempt to move or acknowledge whatever she said, forcing her to make more points for consideration.

"it is perhaps a part of being a viscountess. my presence in academic events will highlight our activeness in such field." still with no budge, she sighed heavily before another point entered her mind.

"it's like a ball. a lot of gentlemen will be there, and who knows? perhaps, i will meet a charming one who shares my interests." she reasoned with a dearly smile.

armand growled at the mention of charming boys. he really doubts there is anyone as such these days, "and what of the bridgerton boy?"

"i jest—it is still benedict. however," she moved to unlock his crossed arms and grasped his hands together in hers, which she cannot envelop seeing as her hands are quite smaller in comparison, and gave out a longing smile, "i could use another friend, can't i?"

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

it is safe to say that the young silva has her father wrapped around her thumb. with warm smiles here and there, she now arrives at the medical convention with unmeasurable elation.

stepping in, she did not know where to look at all. everywhere she turns, she could spend an hour looking at a single specimen—minus the bones. she does not like them at all. but, she knew they're still a sight to see, so she has decided to start with them before she spends most of her time to other subjects.

she walked and walked, simply passing the specimen with a lot of audience like the humerus, the pelvic bone, and the thoracic cavity.

raine would have really loved to observe the thoracic cavity but she thought against it. being in close proximity with a lot of people is not something she enjoys.

upon more walking, a lone skull has managed to grab her attention. she neared to look at it closely. it's crazy, isn't it? to refer to this skull as it when it once housed a brain of a moving, feeling person—one that was referred as he or she.

"the human skull is made up of twenty-two bones, accounting for ten percent of all our bones." an unfamiliar voice joined her side.

she stood up straight from her peering, adding to what the man said, "eight cranial, fourteen facial."

"a fan of the skull?"

raine turned to him at that question. she fought all her facial muscles that was aching to grimace. on another note, the man is quite handsome. of distinguished upbringing too, it seems.

she puffed out lightly as she turned back to the skull, "i dislike bones."

he chuckled at her strong statement, quite ironic that he finds her curiously looking at one, "what are you here for?"

"muscles, cardio, and neuro." she answered, walking away towards other specimen this time.

"ah, interesting choice of subjects. although, i must say, bones are as important." the man followed closely, which she did not mind but she would have loved to look around with none bothering her.

she let out a sarcastic chuckle, looking around as if disregarding his person, "i did not say otherwise."

"you dislike it."

the young lady turned to him with a crossed brows, "i do not have to like it for it to be as significant."

"you are shrugging at its importance." he stubbornly argued.

raine fired back, "i am shrugging at you."

"with the use of your scapula, which are in fact bones." he held up his right index finger, as if to highlight a point—a point she chose not to take.

"with the use of my muscles who initiate the movement sent by motor neurons." she completely turned to him, her voice quite increasing in volume.

his mouth is slightly ajar as raine waited for his retort. he settled with an astonished smile, offering a hand forward, "astley cooper, lady silva."

she let out a small scoff, her annoyance being covered by the very familiar name, "ah, and another day i do not get to introduce myself."

"you must understand. your family is celebrated," they continued to converse in a calmer manner, both accepting the arguments of each other, "and you cause an uproar everywhere you go."

the young silva lightly laughed at the mention of her antics, stopping in front of the humerus that was crowded earlier, "i like to leave my mark."

"i do not doubt it." mr. cooper affirmed.

"you are the son of sir cooper?" she inquired with indifference.

"i am." he shows no sign of surprise that the lady knows of the name. if she is indeed an academic, his father's name is always mentioned on the textbooks.

she simply hummed at that, proceeding to walk to another specimen, "well, this is your forte after all."

"conceding so easily, lady silva?" astley retorted with a hint of smugness. she turned to him, voice laced with friendly annoyance.

"i doubt you would argue with me about guns, would you?"

he laughed at her point as he replied, "never."

and for the first time of the day, she was reminded; she would have loved for him to be the one with her right now. granted, he does not know a lot about these, and granted, she prefers to look around in solitude in these events, but she would have seriously loved his presence. to him, she would never say never."

noticing her zoning out, the man coughed lightly and asked, "what part of the body do you most like?"

she turned to him, completely caught, "oh, hands."

"you surprise me. i thought you would be a lover of eyes. why the hands?"

she smiled at that, raising her hand from the arm near him, as if showing it to him, "they are fascinating; their ability to grip things."

she would have loved to mention the real reason. they can hold on to things. they can let things go. raine thought it too poetic for an academe like him to understand.

"incredible. i'm afraid mine is not as well-thought as yours."

she returned the question, certainly feeling the man's own urge to share his, "what's yours?"

"a femur. it's the hardest bone."

raine did not think twice to laugh. he was being honest after all. it was indeed not as well-thought.

they reach a hall where a live amputation is going on. most audiences were of the academy, she can tell. the daily man would have no appetite for such thing that these young men were watching closely.

she whispered to astley in a hushed voice, "how do you convince them to do it live?"

"he is from our school. he understands the importance of live discussions. sadly, he met an unfortunate accident, and here we are."

raine nodded in understanding, eyes watching the procedure attentively. it is quite harsh to look at, of course. after all, it is an amputation.

after the left mid-forearm was severed, the use of burnt wool was executed. the man has been administered with a bit of anaesthetic, but only enough for until the severing is done. a higher dose than that would prove to be risky for the patient. and so, the application of burnt wool can be felt by the man, gradually increasing in intensity.

as the procedure is ongoing, the surgeon performing it offered information and explanations here and there. the ligature, she could understand, but surely there's an alternative for burnt wool that is less painful.

"how about hydrogen peroxide, sir?" she offered, the surgeon and the students turning to her.

"what do you mean?" he asked, returning to his patient and continuing post-operative care.

"it may be able stop the bleeding more effectively than a burnt wool, which can cause more damage."

the surgeon chuckled, finding the fault on her argument, "it causes irritation to skin, actually the harmful one."

raine stepped forward, laying her case more directly, "yes, but in the right concentration, it has oxidative properties and is a reactive oxygen species. by this, it can cause vasoconstriction upon the dysfunction of the endothelial cells."

the surgeon turned to her, now understanding her train of thought, "it can close the source of the bleeding, achieving hemostasis."

"impressive. we will study such activity of the said chemical, lady?" he inquired, genuinely amazed by her case and how she has thought of it.

raine smiled inwardly, letting out the most prideful smirk she could muster, "silva. viscountess silva."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

just as the clock hits ten before two in the afternoon, the young lady has decided she's satisfied enough of the things she were able to witness and learn. that and the fact that her stomach is now growling.

as she stepped out of the building that housed the convention, she's met with a familiar back of a person across the street.

"ben!" she called, waving overly that some people have spared her a look. the said man turned to her and immediately placed a hand on his forehead at her loudness.

she eagerly crossed the street to him, bridgerton inquiring with a confused face, "what are you doing here?"

upon reaching him, she hugged his right arm with pure excitement as they continue to walk forwards. he could do nothing but let her, "there's a medical convention near. it was awesome!"

"really? i did not know." he feigned ignorance at that, the girl not minding anything as she was overcame with exhilaration.

"you're not an avid follower. that's alright. anyways—"

she proceeded to tell him what happened to her day, from the part she was begging her father to let her go until before the amputation. she also highlighted the specimen she has seen, throwing information about them with elation. she was about to continue when benedict interposed.

"i would have went with you, you know." he said before setting his eyes back on where the pair is walking towards, now with a smaller voice, "if you just asked."

she heard it. of course, she heard it. he could whisper meters away and she would certainly hear it with ease. and, no matter how high up on cloud nine she was, she had no problem jumping off it just to hear him.

raine giggled at his offer, "it's not fun for you. you would find the contents of it boring."

"i would not," he replied at once, seeming as if he does not even need to think twice of the reason, "you were there."

she stopped walking instantly, pulling benedict back by the act without warning. he turned to her for the second time today and all he can see is her widest grin. she was not doing anything but grin, which is what making him so confused as of the moment.

and, just as raine was utterly clueless of what her words were doing to him, he was just as clueless of his words to her.

with confusion, he raised a brow at her, "what? did you have lunch?"

she simply nodded her head sidewards, grin still present, "i have not."

he nudged her as they begin walking again, "what say you for a late lunch together?"

her answer was apparent, "yes!"

they entered an eating house nearby, raine continuing her stories of the day as the food is served.

in the middle of eating, she asked out of the blue, "what part of the body do you most like, ben?"

"mine? let me think," he settled both his hands on the table, looking afar in thinking.

"hands," he replied, placing the fork on the dish to steady it as he slice, "you can tell a lot from a person's hands—the softness, the roughness, its shaking..."

raine smiled serenely at that. he would never fail to do poetic justice to the mere existence of things. and, perhaps, she should have really asked him to go with her earlier, so that the contents of the convention would feel alive once more by his words alone.

he knew her so well that his words spoke to her on their own. she could not remember clearly, but she was sure. it was a moment like this when she first realised she liked benedict. it was one of those moments where she realised that he was the right person for her.

"how about you? what were you doing around here?" she asked, turning to her own plate.

"oh, i was just walking around." he shrugged off easily, which just made her suspicious of it.

"oh my—right," she began, causing the man across her to look at her, "there is a pleasure house nearby."

he should have really noted already not to intake anything if the girl is present. but, he did not. and so, he finds himself choking once again, on food this time, at what the girl accused him of.

"what are you insinuating? how do you even know there is such a house here?!" he whisper-yelled, controlling his volume to not attract other listeners.

raine laughed at his reaction and gave a sarcastic, understanding smile, "ben, do not worry. i have known your activities since i was a child. i still like you."

"i did not go to a brothel!"

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