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sansaorgana · 2 days

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— STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — He's a psychotic killing machine and you're a shy and innocent lady. You have nothing in common except for the fact your bloodlines have been manipulated for centuries to create a match. And you seem to be destined to be together.

REQUEST — (1) // (2) // (3)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I don't write children!Readers unless it's for the retrospections and memories. That's why I combined all these requests into one fic. Some parts of the requests didn't make it but I felt like it was already getting long 🙈 I included the trope of Feyd and Reader being destined to be together – some sort of Soulmates AU, I guess? ✨

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, spiders, mentions of Baron Harkonnen abusing Feyd, SMUT, fingering, oral, hints of innocence kink, The Harpies being a bit non-consensual

WORD COUNT — 7,500

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

Giedi Prime was surely a scary and intimidating place for a twelve years old girl. The lack of colour and friendly faces made you shiver and anxiously cling to your father’s hand. You couldn’t understand why he had insisted on you accompanying him on this official state visit for the meeting with Baron Harkonnen. He would never want to take you with him to much more pleasant places. You were too young to understand the hidden agenda, the Bene Gesserit scheming – whose plans had been destroyed by Lady Jessica giving birth to a son instead of a daughter. They needed a new match for the young na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, The Baron’s nephew. After years of searching and studying many possibilities, they had decided to create a union between your House and The Harkonnens. Your father was more than happy – it was an honour to bond with such a powerful family. You were from one of the planets of a lesser importance. That was the reason for The Baron’s distrust towards the plan. He would rather see his nephew marrying a great lady, perhaps even an Imperial Princess.

While he talked to your father, you were left alone with no one but one guard in an empty room. You were sitting on a black couch and looking with awe at the portraits on the walls. All men looked the same on them – big, bald, hairless and scary. They fascinated you as much as they intimidated you.

After a while, the doors leading to the corridor opened and you startled at the sight of a boy more-less your age entering confidently with a contemptuous look upon his face. He looked like all The Harkonnens – sickly and scary. He was wearing clothes you had only seen on gladiators and warriors before but it looked disturbing on a body so skinny and small, even though he was tall for his age. There was a splash of blood upon his face and it made you gasp and take a step back. He smirked at you.

“So, that’s you? Disappointing,” he commented harshly as you swallowed thickly.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” You looked nervously at the guard but he remained stoic.

“I’m Feyd,” he introduced himself. “My training has been interrupted and I’ve been told to meet you for whatever reason. Haven’t expected such a scared, little bunny,” he sneered and you spotted his teeth were black. They didn’t look rotten, though.

“What happened to your teeth?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“My Uncle made the medics paint them black to intimidate my enemies,” he answered, proudly.

“What kind of enemies might a twelve year old have?” You asked, surprised.

You had no enemies. Your life was of a typical spoiled young lady – full of mother’s kisses, father’s embraces, candies, ponies and maids braiding your hair in the evening while telling you tales of handsome and brave prince charmings. You couldn't imagine that it was different for other people.

“You’re stupid,” Feyd pointed out and you shut your mouth, feeling hurt at his words as tears pricked your eyes. He approached you and you took a step back, scared of him. “Don’t cry,” he tilted his head at the sight of your wet eyes. “Has no one ever told you that you were stupid?” Now it was his time to be surprised and you shook your head. “Do you want to see something?” He proposed as his eyes sparkled.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, genuinely.

“I will protect you,” he offered his pale hand and you looked at it with fear in your eyes.

“I am scared of you,” you raised your eyes to lay them on his face again while you explained.

“Good,” he nodded with a chuckle. “But I’d get in trouble if something happened to you. You are the daughter of my uncle’s guest. Come,” he encouraged.

Your status gave you courage as your curiosity only fueled your desire to actually follow him. Just like the portraits on these walls – he was as intimidating as fascinating to you. Perhaps because you had never before met such a boy.

You took his cold hand and a shiver went down your spine. For a short while, you thought you would faint as an odd feeling filled your small body. A familiar warmth that you only felt when you were back home, in your bed, feeling safe and sound with the nanny or your mother caressing your head to help you sleep. Like he was home. But he couldn’t be. You had never met him and he was scary.

“Have you felt that, too?” You gasped.

“No,” Feyd lied. “Come,” he dragged you behind him and the guard opened the doors in front of you.

Feyd took you down the corridor and led you downstairs to some sort of dungeons beneath the fortress. You were starting to have a bad feeling about it but something deep inside you made you trust that odd boy. Without understanding it yet, you were starting to realise he was the one who had been meant for you from the day you were born. There was some connection between your bloodlines that was drawing you towards each other.

You found yourself in an old, dark and damp room. It smelt of something rotten and it was full of spiderwebs.

“What is this place? It’s disgusting,” you pointed out as you winced. Feyd let go of your hand and sneered at you.

“Life is unpleasant. The sooner you learn that, the better,” he pointed out and suddenly, he reached for a short knife by his waist you had not noticed before. You yelped at the sight, convinced he had only dragged you there to kill you.

“Don’t be silly, I won’t hurt you,” he rolled his eyes and you nodded, unsurely. “Do you want to see me kill something?” He smirked playfully at you.

It felt wrong and you felt the anxiety rising in your abdomen when you realised you’d get in trouble for that. On the other hand, you did want to see him kill something. It was curiosity mixed with excitement to witness something forbidden and something you had been sheltered from.

“Yes,” you nodded, eagerly. He was a little surprised at your reaction but he only smiled.

Feyd beckoned you over by waving his hand and you followed him, quietly. Then you gasped and covered your mouth as you gagged out of disgust at the sight of a big, fat spider in the corner of the room. It was huge – nearly as big as you were. But it was also fat and slow. The legs were long and thin, furry black sticks.

“I found it a few days ago,” Feyd told you as he looked at your disgusted face. “Gross, isn’t she?”

You nodded.

“She reminds me of my uncle,” Feyd explained with hatred in his voice. “Do you see those small spiders on the ground?” He asked and you looked down. It was full of smaller spiders but they were all laying there dead. “She feeds off of her own children.”

You took a step back, utterly disgusted and sick. Feyd snorted at you and turned his back on you to gut the big, black spider. You watched with terror how much satisfaction it was giving him. He struck the monstrosity so many times that you lost count. He kept striking when it was already laying there dead.

“That’s enough,” you whispered and Feyd froze before turning around to face you. There was pure murder in his eyes and when he walked towards you with a knife in his hand, you were sure he would kill you now, too.

You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes, expecting the worst. But when you felt his breath on your face, you heard him hiding the knife away.

“Stupid little bunny,” he told you and you opened your eyes, hesitantly. He was staring at you as if he was studying your face.

The door opened suddenly and a few guards entered, sighing out of relief. Your father was standing behind them, scared. Baron Harkonnen was there as well, floating ominously.

“There you are!” He raised his voice and you spotted that all Feyd’s confidence was gone in a second. The boy looked down and blushed. “I’ve told you to behave. Why are you scaring Lady (Y/N)?!”

You turned around to face The Baron, hiding his nephew’s from his sight with your small body.

“He did not scare me, my Lord,” you assured with a slight bow of your head. “I wanted Feyd-Rautha to show me around,” you lied to protect him.

You had a feeling his uncle would punish him and he looked like a man you would never want a punishment from.

“She’s naive,” your father tried to save the situation. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he reminded you and grabbed you by your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Forgive my daughter, my Lord Baron.”

“She is forgiven,” the big man smirked viciously before lying his eyes on his nephew. “The boy, however, is not.”

You wanted to protest but your father gave you a stern look and announced it was time for you to leave now. So, you obeyed and walked away, following the guard leading you out of the corridor. But you kept looking behind, trying to see Feyd-Rautha for the last time.

“Will I see him again?” You asked your father, looking up.

“Who?”

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you explained and your father sighed as he looked down at you.

“You will in eight years,” he announced. “You will become his wife.”

Those eight years you had not wasted a day, practising for your new role every day. Learning all about The Harkonnens; their culture, their history, their customs and war strategies. You knew that their nobility would not give you an easy time for being a Lady of the lesser house. You wanted to prove your worth with knowledge.

Your wisdom was your only weapon because you lacked confidence nor experience in nearly anything. Sheltered your whole life, surrounded by books and teachers, you were shy and innocent. The spider incident on Giedi Prime still remained your only sin – that no one except your husband-to-be possessed the knowledge of.

You had not been in touch with him at all but the stories had reached you about his nature and his victories in the gladiator arena. You believed them all because your short encounter had been enough to give you an idea about what kind of man he would become. You had never protested whenever your marriage was mentioned but you felt anxious. You didn’t belong on Giedi Prime, you didn’t fit in the world of death and violence.

Tested by Gom Jabbar, you nearly failed the test. The scary Reverend Mother gave your mother a look of disapproval. On the very next day you were shipped to Giedi Prime for your wedding, though. You had survived the trial and only that mattered – the long-planned scheming couldn’t be sabotaged.

On the day of your arrival, you were led with your parents to a room you had remembered from your last visit. There was the same black couch and the same portraits on the wall – only now there was one more than before. The last one in line, of a young man with handsome facial features, signed with your betrothed’s name. You opened your mouth slightly as you kept staring at it. He was a young and handsome na-baron; a strong warrior surrounded by men and women who admired him. You could only imagine how inconvenient a marriage had to be for him. Especially to an uninteresting and unimportant woman like you.

The doors opened and you turned around to see him in real life as he entered the room in black gladiator gear. He looked better than in the portrait – raw and magnetic, dangerous. Your parents stiffened at the sight of him and they both bowed their heads.

“Lord Na-Baron,” your father greeted him. “We have delivered our daughter to you, according to the agreement,” he explained. “We have hoped to be greeted by your uncle The Baron.”

“He’s busy,” Feyd interrupted your father in a low and raspy voice that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were only fixated on you – curious and mocking. You bowed down slightly as well, not wanting to disrespect him.

“Y-yes, of course, my Lord…” your father took a step back.

“You’re grown now,” Feyd-Rautha stood in front of you with a smirk and you took a deep, shaky breath in.

“So are you, my Lord Na-Baron,” you nodded.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Feyd turned around to give your father a contemptuous look. “A timid little bunny. But it’s no surprise since she’s been raised by a coward and bootlicker like you.”

“My daughter is of many qualities, my Lord, I can assure you…” your father panicked.

“A wife only needs one quality,” Feyd sneered at him as your blood ran cold at his words. “Show them to their rooms,” he told the guards and left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve made deals with these people,” your mother snapped angrily at your father who was standing there with his head kept low, ashamed.

But it was not like he had any saying in this. It was the plan of the Bene Gesserit. You were nothing but pawns in it. You tried to remember that Feyd-Rautha was a pawn, too.

After the scary and bloody wedding party, you were taken to your husband’s bedroom where you were supposed to be prepared for the wedding night. However, it was not the maids waiting for you there. Three bald Harkonnen women were sitting on your husband’s bed and smirking at you, showing off their sharp teeth. They were dressed in black leather and clinging to each other as if they were one body instead of three.

“We will prepare her for the Master,” one of them told the servants who had taken you there. You looked at them with panic and they only looked back with guilt and compassion before walking out as quickly as possible, leaving you alone with the scary snake-like creatures.

They were circling around you, sniffing you and chuckling contemptuously. You didn’t understand anything but you tried to bravely keep still and endure. Then, one of them approached you and licked a fat stripe across your cheek. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Oh-so-innocent,” she commented. “Have you ever pleased a man?” She asked.

You were terrified and embarrassed, you didn’t know what to do.

“N-no, my Lady,” you stuttered and nodded your head, unsure how to address her.

They all found it amusing as they laughed.

“My Lady, she calls me. I might like this one,” the woman caressed your hair with some sort of perverted delicacy that made you feel even more scared. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands turned cold and sweaty. “I’m not a lady, na-baroness. I am your husband’s whore,” she informed you and you nodded again, hesitantly. “We are his favourite pets. You see… Our Master likes perversion,” her hands landed on your hips as she pulled you closer to her body. “We will teach you how to please him and how to take him.”

“He’s a lot to take,” another woman stood behind you and grabbed your breasts from behind.

“W-won’t he mind, my husband?” You swallowed thickly.

“Not at all,” the third one giggled. “He always shares his toys.”

“Not this one,” the doors opened as Feyd-Rautha entered the room. He glanced at the women angrily and they immediately let go of you and moved away. “She is not a toy, she is your na-baroness. What are you doing here?” He snapped. “Have I not forbidden you from entering this room from now on?”

“Oh, Master…” one of them approached him to put her arms around his neck but he pushed her away.

“Get out,” he hissed and they ran away.

When the doors closed behind them, Feyd looked at you and sighed before approaching you and caressing your cheek.

“You alright, wife?” He asked.

“Y-yes, thank you,” you nodded and flinched at the feeling of his cold fingers brushing your cheek. An odd and out-of-place warmth started to fill you like all those years ago. It made him startled, too, and eventually he took a step back.

“You must be exhausted,” he only said as he looked away, awkwardly. “We can perform our duties in the morning.”

“Th-thank you,” you nodded. “I’ll go take a shower now…”

Feyd pointed at the doors leading to the bathroom and that was all for that night. When you came back to his bedroom, he was already gone. You went to sleep without him, confused by his behaviour.

Baron Harkonnen watched carefully with his own eyes and through the eyes of his servants. He observed and he listened – nothing could ever escape him. But the new na-baroness was as easy to read as a book. When she joined him and Count Rabban by the breakfast table, she didn’t wince while sitting, which was an obvious sign she had not been claimed by Feyd the previous night. The Baron smirked when the new na-baroness began to eat the meal, keeping her timid gaze down, terrified of her surroundings.

If Feyd-Rautha refused to be her friend, The Baron would surely find her a purpose. She would be an easy tool to keep Feyd in place. A silent, obedient shadow following her husband everywhere. A perfect spy.

“Na-Baroness,” he addressed her and she flinched before looking up, scared. “I would like you to join the council after the meal. Your husband rarely takes part in them since he is too busy training but now you are an extension of him,” The Baron forced a smile and she nodded. “I’ve been told by your father you are well-trained in Harkonnen history and customs.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” she bowed her head.

“I know that Feyd-Rautha is not an easy man to be around,” The Baron continued as Rabban raised his head, curious about his uncle’s scheming plan. “He’s been like this ever since he was a child. I’ve been trying to temper him.”

“I remember,” the young woman whispered.

“You can tell me about anything that is worrying you,” The Baron assured her and she smiled genuinely. “Has he hurt you?” He squinted his eyes, knowing the answer already but wanting to test her honesty.

“No, my Lord. Feyd-Rautha did not spend the night with me at all,” she answered and he nodded as Rabban sneered.

“You have to forgive him, my Lady. He prefers other… forms of entertainment,” The Baron explained softly.

“I believe I have met them, my Baron,” the woman looked down.

“Most likely, yes. They don’t like to share him,” The Baron chuckled.

“But the heir…”

“Do not worry about the heir. You are both still young, you have time. There is no need to hurry anything. Take your time to adjust on Giedi Prime first,” The Baron tried to calm her down and she looked up with so much gratitude in her eyes that he was sure he had succeeded. She was his agent now.

To your own surprise, you found new friends in your husband’s family – his uncle and brother – but not him. Feyd-Rautha was mostly avoiding you and a few attempts to claim you were ending in a fiasco. You couldn’t understand why he would pull away suddenly and leave you without a word or fail to get hard enough no matter how long his touch lingered upon your body. It made you feel as if you were lacking, because you knew for sure he had no problems of this sort with his concubines. They often bragged to you about it. They had offered to help you to excite him and you nearly agreed to that but Feyd hated to see you around them. He snapped whenever he caught you talking to them or them approaching you.

He hated to see you around his uncle and brother, too. He had been warning you about them but it felt cruel to do so. Did he want you to not have any companionship at all? To be sad and lonely and miserable all your days?

You weren’t appreciated in marriage but you were appreciated as a part of this family – representing the na-baronship during the council meetings with your decisions and advice. The Baron seemed to be pleased with you and Count Rabban had stopped to make fun of you over time. Still waters run deep, The Baron would often say about you as your cheeks heated up and eyes sparkled. Perhaps all the years of studying the customs and tradition of this House would not be useful in your marriage but they seemed to be useful when it came to your political presence.

It still bothered you that Feyd-Rautha was acting so weirdly towards you. You remembered the boy he had been eight years earlier. You had never feared this union because you had been sure there was some sort of bond now between you two, some sort of connection. Perhaps you had been wrong.

It was right after one of Feyd’s failed attempts to claim you, when he left you half-naked in bed with tears pricking your eyes. He walked away and most likely went to his concubines as you fixed yourself and left the room, too, not wanting to remain in the chambers filled with the smell of embarrassment and humiliation anymore. You nearly crashed with your brother-in-law walking down the corridor.

“My Lady,” Rabban nodded at you. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes,” you answered, trying not to show your nervousness. There was no need for him to know the details about the problems your marriage was facing.

“I was just looking for you,” he confessed and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Tomorrow, my uncle wants me to lead the council meeting only for the most important members of the court. It’s about a matter of a very high importance and it’s confidential,” he whispered. “I hoped you would join me. Without my uncle there, I will be the only one representing our family.”

“But tomorrow Feyd has his fight. I am expected to be in the stands,” you looked up at him.

“Uncle will be there. You are more needed here, (Y/N),” Rabban tried to convince you. You could see his hands were a little shaky – he was stressed about the responsibility placed upon his shoulders by his uncle. “It’s not like Feyd will even notice your absence,” he added.

You bit on your lower lip. He was right.

“Alright, I’ll join you in the council,” you nodded your head. “Our state affairs are much more important than some fixed gladiator fight anyway.”

The servants’ slim fingers were applying the black paint upon Feyd-Rautha’s body as he observed his three harpies from the corner of his eye. They were giggling between each other and some of the words reached his sensitive ears.

“...naive…”

“Silly little thing.”

“...taste her heart…”

“What are you talking about, pets?” Feyd turned around to face them as he asked and they went silent.

“Nothing important, Master,” the bravest of them all answered eventually.

“I have a feeling you’re whispering about my wife,” Feyd pointed out.

“As I said, nothing important,” she chuckled and the rest giggled. Feyd squinted his eyes and approached them with a clenched jaw and an angry expression on his face. When he grabbed her by the chin, they stopped laughing.

“You are forbidden to even think of her,” he hissed out. “You’re not worthy of that.”

“M-Master…” She trembled as she pleaded for his softness. Her companions hid behind her and observed him carefully. “She doesn’t even know how to please you, Master.”

Feyd’s hand dropped down and the squeeze tightened around the woman’s neck. He watched her struggle to catch a breath for some time as he observed with a smirk. Eventually, he let go of her.

“My wife belongs to a different realm than you,” he stated. “She is not to be discussed, looked at, thought of… Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Master,” they all nodded, obediently.

“Good,” he smiled and went back to the servant girls.

“You might be interested in the gossip, though, na-baron,” one of the concubines whispered. “We are your eyes and ears…”

Feyd pretended not to be intrigued although he was. He didn’t react, hoping she would say more. And so she did.

“Your uncle keeps the young na-baroness close. The rumour has it he wants to make her one of his agents. And she is slowly taking your place during the councils. Count Rabban is his Plan B if you fail. Then she will be given to him.”

“I’m sure Rabban won’t have a problem with fucking her,” the bravest concubine added as if his punishment had not worked at all. Because it didn’t. She loved his punishments. “Her innocence will only make him more eager. He will tear her apart.”

“Shut up!” Feyd growled, making the servant girls take a few steps back as he turned around to face the girl with a big mouth. “Let me remind you that I don’t need your tongue to fuck you,” he sneered. “Your sisters are better at using their tongues than you anyway.”

The woman looked down and he was informed that he was about to enter the arena in five minutes so he went back to putting the gear on, furiously clutching to his blades. He was grateful to his concubine for fueling his anger so much – he wanted to make good use of it in the arena.

But when he approached the tower with his uncle’s balcony to bow down, he spotted that his wife was not there. Suddenly, the fight made no sense to him at all. What was the point of putting on a show, what was the point of killing with grace when she could not watch?

He had been waiting eight years for her to come back. The timid little bunny girl that made him feel so warm inside. That made him feel like home. Nothing had ever made him feel this way. They were destined for each other. Now, when she was by his side, he had no idea what to do. He had been training his body for years to impress her and be able to protect her but nothing was working out the way he had planned. She was slipping away.

She was slipping away because of his uncle’s scheming and because Feyd-Rautha himself had no idea how to approach a creature so pure and innocent as this woman. If anything in this world was still able to save his rotten soul, it was her. But maybe he had been naive to think so. He was beyond saving.

He didn’t give the audience a show on that day. The fights were quick and swift. No playing with his victims, no tormenting. Just a kill after kill to finish it as fast as possible. And no bowing down at the end. He just walked out of the arena, still clutching his fists on the blood-dripping blades. He walked past the guards and servants, not wanting to change or bathe – he wanted one thing only. To find his wife.

The sounds of the cheering audience were becoming more and more quiet. They waited for him to walk back and bow down, raising his knife in the sign of victory. He had no plans in doing so. He would not kneel in front of his uncle. Not when his wife was not beside him, because it was her he had been kneeling for. Not Baron Harkonnen.

The council was over now but you stayed inside the conference room with Count Rabban to discuss what had been decided and what to tell his uncle. You were staring at the maps of Arrakis and wondering whether the Emperor’s assurances of help were trustworthy.

“What I’m saying is… If he is so willing to get rid of The Atreides just because he considers them to be dangerous… He might do the same to us one day. We are a real danger to him way more than any Atreides is,” you pointed out.

“Especially now when we have knowledge that can turn other leaders against him and…” Rabban’s words were interrupted by the heavy black doors opening rapidly. You flinched and instinctively hid behind your brother-in-law’s broad shoulders.

It was Feyd-Rautha himself walking inside with an angry look on his face. Wearing his gladiator gear stained with fresh blood and still wielding two bloody swords. He looked ferocious as his cold eyes searched for you. When he spotted you behind his brother, his jaw clenched and so did his fists on the handles of the blades.

“What is going on here?” He barked as you and Rabban looked at each other, questioningly.

“Husband,” you tried to be brave as you took a step ahead to approach him very carefully. “I see you’re finished now. I assume you’ve won.”

“(Y/N), wait,” Rabban grabbed your sleeve to keep you in place. He didn’t want you near Feyd in such a state. But Feyd didn’t like his brother’s gesture.

“Let her go, brother,” he snapped. “She is my wife and she will approach me if she wishes. I would never lay my hand on her,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

You felt Rabban’s fingers letting go of the fabric of your dress and you walked up to Feyd. Something inside you was telling you that he needed you at that moment. Perhaps that was the intuition of a wife.

“Oh, we all know that you don’t lay your hand on her at all, brother,” Rabban snorted at him.

You watched in terror how your husband’s face became even more angry than before. He yelled and attacked his brother with all the burning wrath he had before been trying to stop from outbursting with.

“No! Stop! Please,” you pleaded as they fought and struggled one against another. Rabban took out his own blade now, too, and they ended up wrestling on the floor like two children. “That is enough, please!” You cried out.

Your tears brought attention to only one of them – your husband. He was distracted by them and ended up with his brother’s blade pointed at his face. You froze and Rabban laughed with contempt.

“Such a great warrior you are, my brother. Trained day and night for years, got your little arena shows… And now you got distracted by a woman,” he pointed out.

“That woman is my wife,” Feyd drawled.

You looked around in panic but the guards stood there petrified. They were afraid to attack any of the brothers. Usually shy and timid, you felt an odd outburst of courage as you took a blade from the guard standing nearby. He did not protest but only watched in terror as you approached the brothers and pointed the blade at Count Rabban himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” he laughed at you.

“Let my husband go,” your voice shivered but you managed to stand your ground.

“Or what?” Rabban sneered. “We both know you won’t strike me.”

In that very moment Feyd kicked him and got out of the direction of his brother’s blade. He ended up on top with his own knife pointed at Rabban. A smirk on his face revealed that he had never been defeated even for a second, he was only toying with his brother… and with you, too.

“She might not but I will,” Feyd hissed at his brother. “My marriage is none of your business, brother. And you stay away from my wife.”

“I am only representing you during the councils,” you tried to explain and Feyd looked up at you with his brow furrowed. “Your uncle told me I should because you rarely take place in them.”

“He’s scheming, can’t you see? Trying to turn us against each other. Thought you were smarter than this,” his anger was directed at you now.

He let go of Rabban and stood up to walk out of the room. You swallowed thickly and lowered your blade, scared of your brother-in-law’s reaction now when you were left alone with him after threatening him.

“Why did you take his side?” He only asked as you gave the blade back to the guard. “He doesn’t treat you any good. He never will.”

“He is my husband,” you explained quietly, avoiding his curious gaze.

“By name only. Your marriage is not even consummated.”

“Feyd was right,” you looked up. “Our marriage is none of your business, brother,” you emphasised who he was to you now before walking out to follow Feyd. It was easy because he left a trail of sand and blood from the arena behind him.

He went to your chambers so you took a deep breath in and pushed the doors open to face him in all his wrath and anger. He was struggling to get out of his gear with shaky hands as he shot you a furious glance over his shoulder.

“Should I call for the servants?” You asked.

“No,” he snapped and you sighed before approaching him and helping him yourself. At first he tried to shake you off but you were stubborn so he gave up and allowed your gentle fingertips to work on the pieces of clothing. “How do you even know how to do that?” He asked. “Did Rabban show you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear husband. I’ve read dozens of books about The Harkonnen art of warfare. I know your gears by heart. And Rabban is no gladiator,” you explained.

“Dozens of books about the art of warfare and The Harkonnens and yet it slipped your mind what masters of manipulation we can be?” Feyd barked at you and you chuckled. He didn’t find it amusing as he looked you up and down with contempt so you leaned in and placed a kiss upon his soft lips while your hands cupped his face. He was visibly taken aback by that, he didn’t even close his eyes for the kiss and he continued to observe you as if you would attack him any second.

“I have studied everything like a good pupil I was,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Your hands kept caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner. “And now I’m one of The Baron’s closest people. I’m your inside man, Feyd-Rautha,” you smiled gently and his eyes sparkled at the realisation.

“But… why?” He only asked, confused.

“What do you mean why?” You bit on your lower lip.

“I’ve been treating you… coldly,” he admitted.

“Well, that is another matter. But that is between you and me. The marriage is between a husband and a wife. Not between them and his uncle or brother,” you explained. “I still remember that big fat spider. I’ve known ever since I was twelve years old that the thing you crave the most is to gut your uncle like you did to that monstrosity in the dungeons. And as your wife… I will do everything I can to help you,” you assured him.

But Feyd was not convinced. He pushed you away although he did it way gentler than you’d expect. He walked away from you as he stepped out of the pile of clothes by his feet. He was wearing nothing but underwear now and you watched how his muscular body glistened with sweat after the fight.

“You can be a double agent, wife. I don’t trust you,” he confessed.

“You have no reasons to,” you nodded. “Except for the fact we have fate and destiny bonding us. Am I the only one feeling this when we touch?” Your voice lowered as uncertainty began to grow inside of you. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you were the only one feeling that warmth indeed.

“No,” Feyd admitted, nearly inaudibly. “Why do you think I can’t fuck you?” He approached you again and you gasped at how close he chose to stand.

“Because you find me unattractive? Or boring perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “I don’t care about that. Our bond is stronger than physical attraction.”

“I can’t fuck you because that feeling is overwhelming me and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like that. You’re too pure for me,” he confessed, visibly uncomfortable with his own words as he looked away.

You were stunned for a moment.

“You’re an idiot, Feyd-Rautha,” you laughed eventually and he blushed. “I am not pure. I am flesh and blood just like you,” you told him. “For example now… When you’re standing in front of me… like this,” you allowed your hand to wander all over his hard muscles. “You’re starting a fire that will be difficult to put out later,” you looked up to meet his gaze. “Every time you start and don’t finish, you leave me in torment,” you confessed. “And nothing helps,” you pouted. “I writhe and I roll around and grow more and more bitter knowing that you’re giving your whores what you’re supposed to give me.”

He was nearly paralyzed in a way he was staring at you. You grabbed his hand and pulled your dress up to press his hand to your womanhood. You were soaking through your underwear now and he blinked a few times as his gaze intensified.

“I will never forgive myself if I break you,” Feyd took his hand away despite your protests.

“You’re breaking me by refusing to touch me,” you whined.

“Touch yourself,” he said suddenly as his eyes sparkled and you were left speechless. “Touch yourself for me. I will help you. I’ll make it feel good,” he proposed.

Out of desperation, you decided this was better than nothing – at least for now – so you agreed. As fast as possible, you got rid of your dress and remained in nothing but your sheer underdress. You laid on the bed and watched him approach you. Feyd laid next to you, observing you carefully. His eyes were admiring every curve of your body and every inch of your skin. Without waiting for his command, you pulled the underdress up and took off your underwear to toss the panties aside and start playing with your wet folds. It was embarrassing to see him watch but it also excited you in some twisted way. You toyed with your clit, moaning softly, showing him what kind of pleasure you could bring to yourself – what kind of pleasure you had to bring to yourself since he refused to do so.

“Easy, slow down,” Feyd breathed out and placed his rough hand on your waist. He was caressing you and joined your lips together in a sloppy kiss. His free hand undid the ribbon on the top of your underdress to free your breasts. They shivered under the touch of his big hand as he played with your nipples and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

You shut your eyes close, trying to focus on the pleasure as your fingers rubbed on your sensitive swollen clit but it was not enough. It never was.

“I can’t…” You admitted your defeat as you tried to catch a breath.

“Yes, you can,” Feyd whispered into your ear in that low, raspy voice of his that sent shivers down your body and straight to your core. “What’s stopping you?”

“It’s just… I don’t know…” You didn’t know how to find the right words. “It’s not enough,” you admitted. “It’s not you.”

“Let me, then,” he raised himself to look into your eyes as his hand moved your hand away and his fingers replaced yours on your exposed clit. You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles and teasing your entrance.

You pressed your hands to his chest and then you moved them lower to explore the hard muscles of his abs. To feel them underneath your fingers was enough to make your back arch needily, exposing even more of your hungry pussy. Feyd smirked at that and buried his fingers deep inside as you gasped out of pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure.

His free hand grabbed your chin gently and when you looked up, batting your eyelashes and opening your lips slightly, he put his fingers inside of your mouth and you grabbed his wrist to hold on to it as you sucked and moaned. His other hand was bringing you close to your release as his movements were fast and rough and his thumb circled your clit.

You cried out but his fingers muffled it so you ended up choking on the sound escaping your lips as you came writhing under him with sweaty forehead and single hair strands sticking to your face, your whole body set on fire, trying to catch a breath. Feyd swallowed thickly as his eyes sparkled.

You yelped as he smacked your sensitive pussy right after pulling his fingers out of it and licking them clean, looking deep into your eyes. You were speechless as your mind was left thoughtless.

You could only watch him lower himself and open your thighs even further with his strong arms as he buried his face between your legs to lap on your juices. You were sensitive so it burned in the beginning but the uncomfortable feeling submerged into pleasure once again. Feyd’s tongue was cleaning your folds thoroughly and penetrating you while you threw your head back as you laid your hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. But this time he didn’t let you cum so easily.

When you were about to reach the peak again, he moved his head away and the next thing you saw was his face right in front of yours, his chin dripping with your wetness and his cold eyes filled with so much fire that you felt like a prey trapped by a big predator.

But you loved that feeling. You loved to feel small and tiny under him, trapped, vulnerable. You dug your nails into his biceps and looked down. He had already tossed his underwear aside and his cock was hard now, swollen and aching for you, you could see it twitching and leaking black precum. He looked heavy and big and you wanted him badly to claim you and violate you to the point no other man would ever even think of touching you after him.

You had never made him that hard. You had never gone so far before. You were sure you’d succeed now.

“Take me, claim me, make me yours,” you pleaded. “Please, I want more of you.”

Feyd shut you up with a kiss and a strong, stinging pain of his hard cock finally penetrating you. Your eyes widened as you whined. He intertwined your fingers together and held you through the process of adjustment to his size. You were the first one to impatiently rock your hips to show him you wanted him to move. So he did, slowly and carefully. He winced from his attempts to keep himself in control and you let go of his hands to pull him closer by his shoulders and deepen the kiss.

You moaned softly and helped him to fuck you by you rocking your hips against him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You both had been waiting so long for this moment of unity that it didn’t take long for you two to reach your highs and the familiar feeling of warmth filled you whole. You didn’t remember your own name, the only thing you knew was that you were home and the man above you was destined for you; you were born to be his wife and he was born to be your husband. The thousands of years of manipulation of the bloodlines had led you to this moment and nothing could tear you apart now. No amount of rumours, scheming or the disability to show emotions.

You were catching your breath as Feyd was slowly coming back from his high above you, panting heavily and looking at your face with hazy eyes.

“You belong to me,” he leaned in to kiss your lips again. “You always have.”

“No matter what happens, we are one,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with him as you held his hand. “Now, when that is settled, we shall focus on our most important task.”

“And that is?”

“Killing the fat spider in his nest,” you answered.

“Thankfully, we have experience,” Feyd teased before placing yet another soft kiss upon your parted lips.

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

630 notes · View notes

ambrosiagoldfish · 2 days

Note

Adam x third spouse part 3 I’m begging pookie ❤️

like a time skip to when Charlie appeared and proposed the idea

Benifit of the doubt Pt.4

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, a little bit sad for a moment but it’s ok. Gn! Reader! honestly that’s about it I think?? Wow this is the first time it’s been this short in this series.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 4617~

A/n: So… it’s been almost 2 months… whoops. In all seriousness though I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve just not been in the mood to write and a lot of stuff has been happening (which is finally over) and I’m glad I could finally post this. I was also, if I’m honest, nervous to post this, cause I’m not sure if everyone’s ready for the direction of the story. But I have made it clear that I wanted to do a time skip to the show at somepoint and decided to do it now! If you enjoy this, please let me know cause I’m really nervous about (Not my words of affirmation love language coming out-) ALSO to the requester, I know you said part 3, but I used it for part 4. I got your request as I was making part 3 soooo my bad. Hope you don’t mind tho <3 this will be the last part before the angsty finale (and maybe an epilogue)

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Anyways this was NOT beta read unfortunately, I tried to get as many errors out during the writing process so hopefully it’s fine. Also, there’s probably some words I might have wanted to italicize or make bold that aren’t, but I’m too tired to care honestly.

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn @ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che @edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee (if I forgot someone or you want to be added just tell me !!)

Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. Until eventually an eon had passed. An entirety filled to the brim with an indescribable happiness and love, threatening to spill over at any given moment. You loved Adam and Adam loved you.

To say it was all happiness would be a lie, there were some moments of sadness and pain, but all relationships were like that, even ones that lasted for eternity. You both always bounced back, apologize and moved on with a stronger bond than before. And you loved every second of it.

A lot has changed in these last few eons. Adam formed a band and is now the most popular guitarist in all of heaven. You both made new friends, some got into heaven while others were made there. Emily was one of these people to you, she looked up to you for being older than her. You’ve existed for almost all of human existence so, of course she’d look up to you.

Adam had also made new friends, his band members, some officials in heaven, but someone he’s grown close to recently was Lute. You're really happy about his friendship with Lute. She seems like a strong and loyal friend, someone that can keep him grounded while still encouraging him to be more himself. Overall, you really liked her.

How they became friends though is something… less tasteful for you. All the way back when Heaven and Hell had their first meeting on what to do with the surplus of sinners in hell causing an uprising. Neither side came to an agreement in the end, you do feel partially to blame for that, but you still stand by what you did.

You never returned to any of the follow up meetings

But Adam did, surprisingly to you. In the end, you were called to talk with Sera and Adam. You were told of the agreement between Heaven and Hell, about the yearly “cleanse” that Adam and his “Exorcists” would have to commit. At first you were shocked, sure, you didn’t have the best experience with sinners and especially with the rulers of hell, but was death really necessary? You didn’t know what to say, and Adam clearly saw this.

“Babe, you alright?” He puts his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb in circles. You place your hand on his.

“Yeah it’s just a lot to take in. Are we sure it has to be done… that way?”

Sera looked down in pain “they’re… uprising and are becoming to much of a threat to heaven.”

You sighed as Adam took you in his arms. Adam was fully aware that you don’t share the same sentiment towards sinners as he does. His hatred towards the unholy souls down in hell was brought about by events that you simply cannot understand. Which he is thankful for, he never would want you to experience what he did.

“If there isn’t anything else we can do then… I guess we have no choice. But I don’t want to… kill anyone, even if they are sinners.”

Adam holds you closer “You won’t have to,” you smile at him, the now familiar flickering of his LED mask meeting your gaze before softly frown “you ok?”

You nod, “yeah, just…I wish there was another way.”

That was it. Adam would take his exorcists down to hell to kill as many sinners as they could each year. Adam knew you didn’t want him to talk about it , he kept it as separate as he could from your life. You did have to attend meetings regarding it, as one of the very few people to know about it, that was your duty.

You were fine with having that part of the job. You weren't sure if you could kill someone, sinner or not. So, for the countless years to follow, you played your part with every new extermination, attending meetings to deal with the repercussions of each cleanse.

Adam would also have to attend the occasional meeting. Which is exactly what today was. Sera had called you both in to talk.

“Thank you both for coming. I have to inform you that you will be attending a meeting tomorrow.”

Adam groaned “What! Again? This is like the 4th fuckin’ one this week! Ugh fine! Where is it this time? halo city? Cherub towne” Adam’s voice mocked the locations you’ve both been sent to countless times with a high pitched voice. Even you have to admit that the meetings could drag a bit.

Sera's face turned into a slight grimace as she looks away from you both, she sighs and continues “The meeting will be in… hell.”

“What!” Both your voices raise in shock

“Sera, you know I don’t want to go down there again!”

“Why can’t you just send the other fucking dipshits who know about-“ Adam crossed his arms defiantly

“Stop,” Sera raises her hand toward you both “no one wants to go there, and I know you both especially don’t.” She pauses “But you both are the only available angels who know of the cleanse that aren't busy. Please… I understand your disdain but heaven’s business comes first.”

“Who are we even gonna be talking to -Wait a damn minute- Don’t fucking tell me we have to talk to him.”

“I'm sorry…” You all sat in silence for a moment before Sera begins to speak again, “But you both won’t have to worry about physically being there, we have prepared holograms for you, so neither of you would be in any danger.”

“I'll have an Angel escort you to the ‘meeting’ room tomorrow, please, get some rest. I’m sure you both have had a long day.”

With that, you and Adam went home, you were definitely not feeling well about the meeting, but the fact you wouldn’t actually be there calms your nerves a bit. You had to be a little honest with yourself, hell wasn’t really the issue for you, it was more so the people. Lucifer for one, that made you feel uneasy.

The next morning, you and Adam got ready, you had to motivate him a little. He was clearly not excited for this meeting like you. The entire way there he held you close, even though nothing could have hurt you it made him feel better knowing how close you were.

On the way there, you also got Adam some ribs, his favorite. You thought it would help his nerves a bit. Turns out, Lute was the one Sera assigned to escort you both there. That also made you both a little calmer knowing a mutual friend would be there.

The three of you waited in the ‘meeting’ room for a while, about an hour. At first you thought the meeting might had been canceled or moved and you just weren't told. But then, Lute walked up to you both.

“Sir! The Seraphim has told me to inform you that there’s been a change in plans!”

“What? The fucks that mean?” Adam said stuffing a rib into his LED mouth

“Lucifer won’t be attending the meeting, instead… his Daughter will be here in his stead.” Lute’s mask showed a continuous frown and stern expression as she spoke.

“Daughter?” Your voice shook a little. This was news to you, as long as you’ve existed you had never heard he had a daughter while in hell. You look over to Adam to see His LED eyes were wide in shock but his mask turned into a smile as he sighed.

“Phew boy, we sure dodged a big ass bullet, huh Sweetcheeks?” He laughed as his arm pulled you closer. The whole thing caused you to join in. Suddenly your nerves felt a lot better than before.

“When should she be arriving, Lute?”

“Within the hour.”

Adam scarfed down another plate of ribs as you all wait for the “princess of hell” to arrive. The entire time you just had to wonder what kind of person she’d be. The daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. The more you thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sliding doors opening to the meeting room and a girl steps in, asking if anyone is there.

“She can’t see us?”

“Yeah, Sera gave me a long ass lector on how this stuff works before we got here. Let’s see here…” Adam pushes a button causing a click to sound out as he says “Sup!”

The girl jumps back and falls to the floor, shocked by Adam’s sudden appearance in the room. She introduces herself as Charlie. Adam offers her to shake his hand, only for it to go through.

“Ha! I fuckin’ got you! Did you fucking see that? Good shit.”

You let out a slight laugh, as you sit and watch the meeting happen. Well, you say “meeting” but nothing about it seemed very professional. Adam for the last hour (you honestly wasn’t sure at this point) had been talking about the most random of things.

You or Lute occasionally shakening your head yes or no while listening to him, while Charlie seemed quite tired already. Not that you could blame her, people who weren’t used to Adam’s banter definitely weren’t cut out for it. But You love every word that comes out of his mouth.

Eventually Adam decides that it’s time to get into what you all came here for. Pulling out a bunch of papers, Charlie begins explaining her solution to hell’s overpopulation. You were only really half listening at first, at least before she mentioned that her solution could stop the extermination which peaked your interest.

She explains her “Hazbin Hotel” and its purpose to rehabilitate sinners, you wanted to hear more of it but Adam cut her off.

The meeting didn’t really go that well, At least for Charlie. But the whole thing left quite the impression on you. The idea of ending the extermination was stuck in your head for so long, and now you had someone who had an alternative.

“Adam, are you sure that it couldn’t have worked?”

Adam looks at you in surprise “What? Do you think that shitshow could have actually worked?” He laughed as he placed a hand on your back. “Don’t even pay it any mind, alright Babe?”

“I know, it’s just… you know I don't like the extermination. So another way to lessen the population of hell should at least be looked into.” Your voice was soft enough to barely hear.

Adam’s gaze softened but he didn’t say another word, only wrapping his wing around you pulling you closer. You lean towards him, snuggling into his soft robe. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. You needed to do something, anything.

So that night, after Adam fell asleep, you asked to talk with Sera. Leaving a note for Adam saying you went to buy something just in case he woke up.

“What is troubling you?” Sera’s voice was clear and concise.

You looked toward the ground, your nerves feeling tighter than ever, as you struggled with how to put your words together. “You're aware of all that happened in the meeting with Lucifer’s Daughter, right?”

Sera nods her head “of course, all meetings are documented about as they happen.” She tilts her head slightly “What about it?”

“Well!” You steel yourself before continuing “I would like permission to observe Charlie Morningstar’s ‘Hazbin Hotel’”

Sera’s eyes widen, breaking her calm demeanor before giving a firm “No”

“But-“

“It’s too dangerous for you to be there, Adam wouldn’t want that anyways”

“He would listen if it was an order from you!” Your eyes felt watery but you continued “Please Sera… I know you don’t want the extermination to continue. Just let me do this!”

Sera looked away from you, her feelings evident on her face, any mask now down. ‘Just a little more’ you thought

“Sera, I promise you, I’ll be careful! We don’t even have to fully support them yet, just let me observe them. It would be devastating if so many souls parish if we failed to seek all options!” You beg

Sera sighed, shakingly “…I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes gleamed up at the tall woman “Sera, thank you, thank you!” You wanted to hug her but out of courtesy, you advised against it.

Sera tells you that she can’t guarantee anything but she will try as she sends you home to rest.

A few days past after that and you haven’t heard anything from Sera. It was a little worrying and felt like a bad sign to you. That was, until you were informed by Sera that your request was accepted!

“But.” Sera stops you before you can celebrate “You're only there to keep track of the progress and to make sure nothing is happening under our noses” You nod your head in understanding

“Also…” she pauses “If anything involving this hotel happens, you will have to take full responsibility, understood?”

You nod again “yes I understand. Have you… told Adam yet?”

She shakes her head

“Ok… can you… not tell him it was my idea, please. I don’t think he’d agree if he knew.”

Sera sighs before nodding her head “Very well, I’ll tell him after you leave”

“Thank you.”

You return home, when you got back Adam was already gone, Sera must have already called him to the office. You dreaded when he got back. You didn’t want to see him upset, it hurt you to know how worried he was for you.

A few hours later, Adam comes through the door in a panic. He stomps up to you and pulls you into a warm and intense embrace.

“Don’t go down there. I need you here with me” his voice hitches as his wings wrap around you both, curling you both into a warm and feathery ball.

“Adam…” you paused, was this really the best thing to do? No, It had to be. If this goes well, not only will the extermination stop but Adam wouldn’t have to go down to hell ever again.

“Adam, you know I can’t go against Sera’s orders.” You kiss his cheek “and I won’t be gone forever, I’m only supposed to be there till the next cleanse. Not to mention, I’ll always come back to see you.”

Adam grumbled a little “I know, I just… don’t like you being in the same place that bastard is, and in his brat’s stupid hotel! ”

You laugh softly “Adam…” grabbing his hand, you put yours in it, showing off the gold ring on your finger “I’ll never forget my promise. You know that, right?”

Adam looks at the ring, the gold wrapped around your finger with a perfectly snug fit. Everytime he looked at it was just a reminder of your love for him. That promise was something he could never forget. He slowly raises your hand to his LED mask, kissing the back of it. “Of course not.”

“Good. I promise I’ll be fine, ok?”

He nods. Hand in hand, you slowly lead you both to the bed. The both of you lay next to each other, your bodies linked together like knots. You slwoly remove his helmet from his head, laying it on the nightstand.

Your hands move up his body before landing on his face, cupping his cheeks before pulling him to a kiss before snuggling into his chest.

Finally it was Time for you to leave. Sera allowed you to create portals back to heaven in case anything happened and you were in need of assistance. Adam walked you to the front gate.

“Ok, do you have everything? You didn’t forget that fucking angelic dagger I had Lute get for you right-“

You shush him “Adam, I told you I’ll be fine!”

He’s sighs “Damn it- I know that but just make sure to text me while your there ok-

You kiss him deeply “Adam. I know, you’ve told me a hundred times.” You smile as you cup his face “I love you”

He sighs “Love you too Sweetcheeks”

With one final kiss, you give Adam a tight hug before waving goodbye as you went through the flaming portal. As you went through, you take a second to look at your surroundings. In front of you was a tall building. You take a few steps back to see LED lights of a sign flashing the words ‘Hazbin Hotel’

You let out a sigh of relief. You had been a tad bit worried you’d spawn somewhere random and you’d have to find the building yourself. But it seems heaven at least spared you of that.

The red skies of hell were quite different from the pristine blue ones of heaven. Even though you just got here, you could already hear the sounds of screams and explosions in the distance. How welcoming.

You steel yourself and with three hard knocks to the door, you wait for someone to open it. Muffled Scurrying sounds of footsteps approach the door before it creaks open revealing the young blond woman in the doorframe, Charlie Morningstar.

“Hi! I’m-“

The door is slammed shut, Before opening again

“Be not afraid-“

It shuts again…

Well, this may be a bit harder than you initially anticipated. You go to knock again only for it to open once more. This time, the door doesn’t close again, instead the girl mutters a quick “Hi” before going quiet.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you!” You give a small laugh before continuing “I believe we met a couple days ago?” You bring your hand towards her for a shake, to which she reciprocates.

“During the meeting with.. Adam? Right?” She grimaced when she mentioned Adam, which you decided to ignore, you simply smiled and nodded. ”but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

You tell her about yourself, about how your there to stay and monitor any progress the hotel may have. You made sure to pronounce ‘may.’ While you were hoping for this idea to show some kind of positive results, even you weren’t sure if it’d would work.

“Charlie? who’s at the door- WhatHolyShit-“ a woman with a red X over her eye suddenly shouts in surprise. You look over at her, She looked very familiar…

“Wait, you are-“

“Vaggie! Charlie’s sinner girlfriend! And you are?!” The woman known as Vaggie, highlighted the word sinner while performing a “be quiet” gesture with her hand. Your eyes widen a little at the ex-Angel in front of you but you simply smile a nod “I’m Y/n, I don’t believe we’ve met, yes?”

Look, lying is the last thing you’d want to do as a citizen of heaven but you figured that it would be fine if it was to protect someone. Vaggie nodded, her face scrunched up in a tense look.

“You feeling ok Vaggie? You’re looking a little… red?”

“I’m fine! *ahem*, Hun, how about you give them a tour of the hotel.”

Charlie gasped “Yes that's perfect, you may as well get acquainted with everyone if you’re going to be here more often!”

Charlie ran off, telling you “this way! This way!” Over and over. Before you went to follow her, you leaned toward Vaggie and said a quick “Relax, I won’t tell anyone.”

She lets out a sigh before muttering “Thank you”

You both follow Charlie as she shows you the various rooms in the hotel before leading you back to the hotel’s lobby and lounge area.

“Hey! Hello everyone!” Charlie’s voice picked up a little “I’d like to introduce you to our uh… new staff member?” You nod in agreement with the title. The room in front of you was shrouded in looks of both horror and amazement.

“What the hell’s an angel doin’ here?” A lanky spider demon spoke up first

“It’sss an ambush! seek Cover!!” The Snake demon shouted, seemingly grabbing an army helmet from thin air before taking a deep dive behind the couch.

“No Pentious-” She sighs “they’re here to monitor the hotel! Heaven sent them to scout any potential progress the hotel will have”

“It’s nice to meet you all” you look at the people in front of you, to say it was a colorful cast would be an understatement.

“These two are our current tenants of the hotel! Angel dust and Sir Pentious!”

The snake slithered slowly from behind the couch up to you, while the Spider demon remained rested on the couch

“Oh… *ahem* Excuse me dear! I am Sir. Pentious! Formally known as ‘the Architect of destruction’!” He laughs, a slight hiss sounding in his voice.

He offers a handshake which you accept. To which you immediately regret. ‘ Slimey’ you thought, before wiping your, now wet hand on your clothes.

The spider demon, who you now know as Angel Dust, just gives a wave with one of his 4 arms.

“And-“ Charlie extends the word as she quickly walk to a bar by the entrance “this is the recreational area, run by our Bartender, Husk!”

The winged bartender seemed entirely uninterested in your presence or even Charlie’s. The most you got was a small glance before he takes a swig of his alcohol and walks off.

“He’s not the most… social guy in hell” she awkwardly laughs before moving on to the next person. “And this is Nifty, our one and only maid at the hotel! Nifty say hi.”

The short woman scurried moved around you, her eye quickly looking at every every nook and cranny of you as she moved. She made numerous attempts to touch and grab various things on you, your clothes, wings, and eventually she tried to climb up you to get to your halo. That’s when you finally grabbed her in place “you're a… fast one, huh? Nice to meet you!”

“And last but not least! This is Alastor, the hotel’s executive producer and our first -and only- overlord sponsor!”

Immediately, you could tell there was something off about Alastor. The entire aura he gave off was as if he was restraining something completely and utterly ungodly. The static that surrounded him was just one of many whispers you could hear from his soul.

“Hello! It’s quite a pleasure to meet someone of your… holy status!” He offers a hand to which you, hesitantly, shake. “And what do we owe the pleasure for your service?”

“They’re going to be here to keep track of the progress of the hotel…” Charlie paused “you know I’m starting to sound like a broken record- here, it’s late, how about we all get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning!”

“Fine by me, I am waaay too sober to be having social interaction this late” Angel picks himself up and stretches “I’m gonna hit the hay”

“Here I’ll show you to your room!” Charlie smiles “We -obviously- didn’t have time to make your own so I hope you don’t mind using one of the guest rooms” she laughs

She and Vaggie walks you to your new room before leaving you be, The room was nothing more than just your average hotel room. Of course it did have its differences, a multitude of… eyes seem to be on the wall, staring at you. Well, that’s not the least alarming.

You place your stuff down and begin unpacking, you mostly just brought the basics. Clothes, hygiene stuff, your phone, and, most importantly, a framed photo of Adam.

You sat the photo on your nightstand, angling it just right so that it would always be visible to you. As you do so, you think about the memory the photo brings, you took it on one of the first dates you went on with Adam. It was a relatively tame date, you and Adam, having a picnic by a lake at night. You brought candles so you both weren’t completely in the dark, and you just loved the way he looked, his golden eyes watching the water. The dim candle light illuminating his face with a warm golden shade. Adam hates photos of him with his mask off but… You just had to keep that moment in time forever.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

Speak of the- well, you know the rest. The bright light from the phone comes with the notification sound displaying Adam in bold letters. You smile as you read his messages.

Dixkmaster69

Heyy Sweetcheeks, it’s been a bit since you left

You there??

Fucking answer

You let out a small laugh at Adam’s barrage of messages. He’s not used to you being away from him for more than a day, huh? Not that you could blame him, this is honestly nothing compared to how you feel each year he has to do the extermination.

Sweetcheeks

Hey love

Everything’s fine, I’m ok.

Aside from not having you with me :’(

Dixkmaster69

Fucking finally

You know you don’t have to do this

If I bitch enough to Sera I can get you back by tomorrow

Sweetcheeks

Please don’t, Sera already has enough on her plate.

I promise I’m going to be fine

I’ll be back before you know it.

Dixkmaster69

I know

This shit just worries me

Gonna miss hearing your sexy ass voice at night too ;)

You blush at the message before sighing. Whenever you or Adam approached a topic that made him uncomfortable, he would always try to change the subject to something that made him feel better. You knew why, Adam’s someone who rarely talked about his feelings, even after all these eons together that was something he hadn’t changed. You knew exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you.

Sweetcheeks

I already miss yours too <3

Do you want to help me fall asleep with that heavenly voice of yours on the phone?

Dixkmaster69

Whatever you want Sweetcheeks <3

You smile when, almost immediately, Adam begins calling your phone. You click the lights off before You make your way in your new bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes you’ve been wearing. You grab the cover and pull it over you and tapping the answer button.

“Sup”

You yawn “Hey handsome, I missed your voice”

You hear his voice hitch before he caused on “Of course you did, no one has a better voice than the dick master. But uh, yours is a close second”

You’re let out a tired giggle, “such a charmer, you. How’s your day been huh?”

“Oh! don’t even get me started on that- Lute took me to get some ribs to ‘calm my nerves’ or some shit and they had me, ME, wait in line for like 15 minutes! The fucking audacity!”

You smile to yourself as Adam tells you about his day, the sound of his voice was like a sweet lullaby to your ears and you couldn’t get enough of it. But eventually…

“And then when I got home, I couldn’t find my damn charger and it took me like 40 fuckin’ minutes to realize it was under our bed, do you have any idea of how it keeps getting there?” He waits for you to respond only to be met with silence. “Uh bitch, I’m talking to you.”

More silence… well no, actually if Adam focused on listening, he could hear the faint sound of your snoring from the phone. Adam sighs,”Long day, huh?”

Adam lays back in your shared bed, getting comfortable. He sets the phone beside him, plugging it in while keeping it on speaker. He yawns, “Goodnight Sweetheart, can’t wait to see you again”

Slowly, the soft sounds of both yours and Adam’s snores filled each others rooms, a distant, but intimate connection. Even in slumber, you couldn’t stop thinking of your handsome and caring soulmate.

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a-polite-melody · 2 days

Text

“Focusing on fixing sexism instead of worrying about transandrophobia is going to benefit trans men more. Also, worrying about transandrophobia instead of sexism is like discarding women and instead trying to put trans men into male privilege to fix the problem instead of fixing sexism.”

I mean.

First of all, sure, fighting sexism will help many people. Absolutely. Cis women. Trans women. Trans men.

But would you tell a trans woman to stop fighting transmisogyny because it’s only helping her and other trans women? Would you tell her that fighting for transmisogyny is counterproductive and just putting trans women in a better position instead of fixing sexism? I sure hope not! Typically people who think that way are radfems. But it’s what you’re doing to trans men in conversations about transandrophobia right now, so I’ve gotta point this out.

And also, fixing sexism doesn’t magically fix transmisogyny or transandrophobia. Discarding either conversation to “just focus on sexism” will not be beneficial overall. Just a couple quick examples: even in places where abortion is fully legal trans men will still struggle to access it, even in places where cis women have full access to a space trans women will still struggle to access it.

We don’t need to have only one conversation. Conversations about sexism, transmisogyny, and transandrophobia have to exist in tandem with one another.

And I’m definitely bringing this back around to the fact that discarding other conversations to focus on “the only actual real problem” when that “only actual real problem” is sexism also rings a lot of radfem alarm bells in my head.

#my post #transandrophobia #transmisandry #anti-transmasculinity

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euaphoric · 3 days

Text

HIGHWAY TO HELL ♱ 𓏲ּ [J.J.K.] preview

♱ starring… jeon jungkook x f!reader | rockstar!jk x tattoo artist!reader | 1980’s au | established relationship | ft. all other bts members as bandmates and yoongi is the manager !

♱ genre/warnings... pwp, a mixture of angst and fluff, smut, takes place in the grungy, rugged underground music scene of NYC in the 80’s, o/c used to be a groupie but is now jk’s gf, this fic is going to be very chaotic… there’s a lot of warnings for this including: dark humor (nothing offensive), toxic relationship, the ‘i literally need you to survive or else i’ll die’ trope, o/c is jk’s muse, he fr worships his girl as if she’s some otherworldly deity, attempting to delve into the complexities of mental instability ?? (they’re both mentally fucked in the head tbh), autophobia/monatophobia, DARK/HEAVY THEMES!, small mentions of stalking, mentions of mental health struggles, self injury, heavy alcohol & substance abuse, jk has a belly piercing (yes, that is a warning in itself), jk plays bass and is main vocals of the band, he argues w/ his bandmates a lot, switch!jk but he leans more towards dom, sex while under the influence, size kink, y’all are both super nasty and kinky like omg this is gonna be insaneeesfds, also heavy exhibitionism: they literally have sex in front of ppl multiple times (oops). i will be sure to include the rest once it’s fully finished !

♱ synopsis... when moving to the big city, you had only three things in mind: start life anew— a fresh, clean slate that allows you to bloom into whomever you wish to be, open your own tattoo parlor, and to meet and fuck as many rockstars as you possibly can. in fact, all was going according to plan thus far, however, the minute you crossed paths with him is when life takes a pivotal shift for the better and possibly, worse. you’ve become inseparable since day one, building an intense co-dependency that not even the devil himself can seem to unravel. a story of the submerging tension between two lonely, lost souls navigating youth through glitz, glamour, sleepless nights, and reckless hotel parties every weekend. it’s as if everyone else exists to come and go; besides the unconventional love that you cultivate together. OR,, just lots of sex, drugs, & punk rock.

♱ run time... will be over 10k+ words

♱ soundtrack... seek & destroy metallica, you shook me all night long ac/dc, purgatory iron maiden, she the misfits

i had this idea for sooo long omg, it’s slightly different than how i originally imagined it here, but i’m finally doing it so yay for meee !! i’ve never tried a concept like this before saur i’m def going to research a lot for this since i wasn’t born in the 80’s lol. i honestly have no idea how long this will be but me thinks it’ll be around 10-12k words ??? ( it’s going to be the longest thing i ever made .. T^T ) but my goal this year has been to start writing longer fics so i’m excited ! if anyone wants to be tagged once it’s uploaded just lmk <3

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts aus #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook au #bts imagines

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mediumgayitalian · 2 days

Text

“You ready, Lou?”

“Duh.”

“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”

“Yep.”

“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”

“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”

“Then I think we’re a go.”

“Gods, this is going to be great.”

———

Knockknockknock.

Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.

Knockknockknock.

“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.

Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.

Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.

“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”

She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.

“Chiron is leaving,” she says.

Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”

“With Mr. D. To some conference.”

“I heard.”

“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He left me in charge.”

“Probably wise.”

“I need an allegiance, Nico.”

“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”

She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”

Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.

(…And Will. Maybe.)

“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”

“…Lurk?”

“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”

“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”

She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”

“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”

“See ya!”

He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.

The next twenty four hours are going to rock.

———

“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”

“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”

“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”

“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”

———

Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.

“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”

“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.

“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”

With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.

“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”

Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.

“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.

Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.

———

“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”

“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”

“I hate both of you.”

———

“Halt!”

Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.

“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”

Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.

“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.

Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.

“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.

The three stooges exchange a look.

“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”

“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.

“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”

“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.

“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”

“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.

Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.

Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”

“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”

“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”

Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.

“Tape off.”

Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.

“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”

With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.

Then again.

It is camp.

“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”

Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.

“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”

Caught.

“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.

“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”

“Do you three think I’m stupid.”

“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”

Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.

Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.

“Boo,” he whispers.

She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.

“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.

On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.

“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”

“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”

Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.

Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.

Understanding dawns on her quickly.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”

They squirm harder.

“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”

“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”

“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”

“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.

“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”

Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”

“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”

“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”

Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”

“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”

“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.

“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”

Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.

“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”

“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.

“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.

“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.

Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.

He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.

———

“Is he still looking?”

“No.”

“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”

———

Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.

He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)

For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.

“Neeks? Where’re you going?”

Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?

“Nico? You good, babes?”

He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.

“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”

“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.

For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.

And that is not all.

For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.

“What are you doing?”

“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”

Will and Reika exchange a look.

“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”

Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.

“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”

“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”

“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”

Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”

Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?

“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”

“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”

“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”

“Bleh bleh bleh.”

Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.

“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.

Coffee cake, save him.

———

“It’s not looking good, Katara —”

“I actually like that one.”

“— he’s totally onto us.”

“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”

———

To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.

As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.

Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.

Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.

It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.

Excellent.

“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”

“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”

Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.

“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”

Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”

That gives her pause.

That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.

“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.

Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”

“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”

She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”

“Hey!”

“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”

Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.

“Does that settle things?” he demands.

Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.

The camp erupts.

Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.

“Just — everybody quiet!”

It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.

“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”

Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.

“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”

“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”

The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?

“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”

“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”

Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”

Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”

“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”

“Yeah, but camp-wide…”

“Could still be possible.”

“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”

It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.

Like they’re believing this shit.

Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.

“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”

That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”

“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.

But his aura.

The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.

Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.

He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.

If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.

———

#can anyone guess what these dumb ass mother fuckers did.#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #solangelo #established solangelo #will solace & cecil markowitz & lou ellen blackstone #annabeth chase #nico di angelo & annabeth chase #my writing #fic #longpost

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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Winter's King 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: friday, my day, am i right?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there?

“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.”

“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.”

You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you.

“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate.

You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.”

“You are not in Debray now,” he muses.

You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him.

“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance.

“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.”

“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--”

“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.”

You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.”

You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone.

“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.”

You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment.

“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...”

“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?”

You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath.

“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.”

“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating.

He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain.

“We may begin simple,” he intones.

So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response.

“You have a question?” He prompts.

“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines.

“I can tell,” he says brightly.

You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks.

“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles.

He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait.

“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.”

“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter.

“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides.

“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.”

He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.”

You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do?

⚔️

“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.”

“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.

“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.”

You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair.

“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--”

“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.”

“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.”

“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.”

You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?”

You twist around to look at the door, then to him.

“I will go wherever you command, your highness.”

“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?”

There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you.

“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.”

He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.”

“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?”

Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away.

“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you.

He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh.

“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.”

You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.”

He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed.

“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.”

You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away.

“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table.

Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales.

He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow.

“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.”

You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall.

Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife.

He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts.

He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool.

He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream.

“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.”

You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months.

“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.”

He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side.

“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.”

You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there.

He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs.

Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand.

“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you.

“A game, your highness?” You babble.

He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.”

Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king.

“Your highness,” you utter.

“It’s my command,” he says, “run.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #dark geralt #dark!geralt #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

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qveerthe0ry · 2 days

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Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect.

He’s your dream man.

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place.

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees.

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally.

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit.

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own.

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it.

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too.

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight.

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things.

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him.

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt.

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing.

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow.

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore.

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training.

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated.

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it.

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed.

“What do you want?”

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in.

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.”

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine.

“You’re lying.”

You sigh and close your eyes.

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.”

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty.

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers.

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.”

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment.

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?”

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction.

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?”

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little.

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs.

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation.

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not.

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him.

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his.

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?”

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead.

“Everyone?”

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you.

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up.

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at.

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you?

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.”

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze.

“Really?”

You scoff.

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth.

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine.

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment.

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back.

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone.

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted.

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again.

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs.

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.”

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth.

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you.

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction.

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long.

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs.

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt.

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking.

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved.

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice.

“I think about you, too. All the time.”

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest.

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?”

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter.

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod.

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience.

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt.

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?”

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss.

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head.

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you.

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before.

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers.

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch.

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck.

“It’s just you.”

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief.

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans.

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess.

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips.

“That’s all for me?”

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again.

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip.

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?”

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you.

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes.

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs.

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face.

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control.

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him.

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest.

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels.

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.”

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest.

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure.

Oh, he’s fucking good at this.

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else.

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers.

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face.

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side.

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles.

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself.

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together.

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing.

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids.

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours.

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder.

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?”

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs.

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction.

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants.

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.”

You huff.

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it.

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours.

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe.

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs.

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out.

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation.

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again.

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you.

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold.

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs.

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever.

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.”

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust.

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there.

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake.

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.”

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping.

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue.

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him.

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him.

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach.

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers.

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that.

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is.

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him.

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat.

“So… How’d it compare?”

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question.

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them.

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?”

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are.

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs.

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs.

“Better,” you whisper.

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back.

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver.

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips.

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants.

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension.

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little.

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard.

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up.

“Will you let me suck it?”

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods.

“Please.”

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction.

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants.

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough.

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go.

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you.

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel.

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock.

His little cock.

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess.

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing.

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this.

You’ll make him look, one way or another.

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention.

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head.

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth.

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him.

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to.

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more.

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool.

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere.

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock.

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself.

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds.

He says your name.

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls.

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked.

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face.

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face.

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.”

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question.

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe.

“Yeah? You still want it?”

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.”

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away.

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?”

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later.

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body.

He’s so hot.

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation.

“Please,” you whisper.

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed.

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit.

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling.

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time.

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense.

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you.

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him.

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles.

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm.

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out.

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh.

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it.

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up.

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist.

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you.

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them.

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit.

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight.

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy.

There’s screaming.

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts.

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene.

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks.

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps.

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again.

“Huh?”

God, how are you ever going to move again?

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words?

“What are you talking about?”

He clears his throat.

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly.

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright.

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out.

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver.

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees.

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you.

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body.

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body.

“Hi,” he whispers.

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high.

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part.

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle.

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach.

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do.

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest.

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth.

“When can we go again?”

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal characters #x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #the mentalist

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gay-dorito-dust · 18 hours

Note

Hello could I please request civilian!reader staring at the batboys for a long time and goes “why are you so perfect and handsome, I’m so lucky to have you and I will protect you with my tiny body and hands” 🌸

Idk whether or not this is what you wanted anon but I hope you like it at least in some way 😂

Jason can’t help but let out a full belly laugh upon hearing your declaration after having stared at him for a full hour, as he walked over to you to cup your face in his hands and rest his head against yours.

‘How sweet you of chipmunk, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind whenever I’m in trouble.’ He murmurs as his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

He found it extremely endearing and sweet that you would ever go out of your way to protect someone like him but he preferred if you were to stay at home where it was relatively safe. Jason cared way too much about you to loose you, even if the comment was made in a lighthearted way.

Gotham was far too cruel for someone like you and you both knew it, the city was bound to swallow you whole before you even made it down the street.

The other thing that stuck in Jason’s mind how you thought he was perfect and handsome, to which he would always respond with;

‘I’m far from being either of those things chipmunk, but I’ll take the compliment.’

Jason didn’t view himself as an ugly dude but nor did he think of himself as handsome either, he grew up in Crime Alley and was taken in by a billionaire, he never had times to focus on the way he looked or acted in the eyes of others. Until you of course.

To Jason, Dick was someone many would consider a handsome and perfect man while those same many often regarded him as the complete opposite under the same breath. So whenever you held his face in your hands and called him handsome or perfect with a look of utter love and adoration in your eyes, Jason can’t help but find himself slowly starting to believe that he was in fact a handsome man.

If anything Jason views himself as the one who is lucky to have someone as good and as perfect as you and he reminds you of it day and night, whether he was Jason Todd, your perfect man or Red Hood, feared vigilante of Gotham.

Dick: found it really cute that you thought you could protect him, someone who had the insane flexibility and agility of a cat, but he wasn’t one to crush your dreams and aspirations.

‘My hero has finally come to save me?’ He’d gasp dramatically as he practically falls into your arms, causing you to buckle under his weight and collapse on the bed and giggle at his theatrics.

However he wouldn’t dare let you put yourself in danger in any way shape or form for the likes of him, he refused it as this life had nothing but take and take and take from him anything and everything he held dear.

He still remembered how he felt partially responsible for Jason’s death that he tries to make up for it by being in his corner when it seemed as though everyone thought ill of him.

So Dick really doesn’t want you going and pulling the heroic card on him as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it, he’d act like he could when in reality he was doing far worse then anyone could imagine. So it be better if you let him do the saving.

Now Dick was aware of his own attractiveness and appeal but when you were the one calling him perfect and handsome, he’s smiling widely and internally kicking his feet and saying silly shit like;

‘You still have a crush on me? How embarrassing for you.’ To which you respond with ‘Dick we’ve been dating for 8 months-‘

When anyone else calls Dick handsome they are pointing out an already pre established fact, but when you’re the one saying he’s handsome it has more meaning as it felt as though he was being shown something that he never knew was there before. He lived for every time you called him handsome and it wasn’t because of an ego thing, he just like you calling him handsome and would never want to live in reality where he never heard you say it ever again.

Damian;

‘I can protect us both without issue so there’s no need for that.’

He sometimes takes your word a little too literally, regardless whether you were joking or not.

He was the crime fighter out of you both, so just let him do all the fighting, he doesn’t want your eyes to be burdened with the violence and criminal activity that he was accustomed to.

Also when you called him perfect and handsome, Poor Damian didn’t know what to think as it wasn’t something he viewed himself as nor expected anyone outside of his family to either.

He could handle insults and such but soft words laced with love and care towards him was an entirely new feeling for him in general that it both scared and excited him simultaneously. Besides Damian wasn’t interested in tibial things such as being conventionally attractive or whatever troubles the average person, he never thought it of any importance when other things took presidency in his life.

However when you compliment him, Damian couldn’t help but feel as though he was a little boy again, he would feel himself stiffen for a moment before the appropriate response came to him as easy as breathing, because caring for you was as easy as breathing to Damian and he’d do anything to make sure you were safe and sound wherever you are; for without you he’d be deeply lost.

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avocad1s · 2 days

Text

Trial By Combat - 6

Requested By: No one. Original Work

CW: manipulation?

Summary: Arlecchino’s got a secret…

Note: You all asked and I will provide! Here’s part six <3 this chapter is a bit slow but I promise it’s leading up to something great!

Part One —> Part Five

Fontaine, for the most part, had finally begun to go back to normal. Although no trials have been held since the Creators trial, many shops have reopened their doors to the public once more. It’s as if Fontainians want to disregard the event entirely, treating it as a work of fiction like the Prophecy. However, this doesn’t stop The Steambird from posting every single update regarding the Creator, nor does it stop every copy from selling out.

Despite the lack of trials, it hasn’t prevented the Chief Justice from sending criminals to the Fortress of Meropide, and only hours from now, Paimon and Aether would be a part of the group sent there. The two were the only customers dining at Cafe Lutece this afternoon, the owner seemed almost eager to provide the gluttonous amount of food the duo had ordered.

“Oh Paimon is feeling a bunch of nerves right now and it’s just making her more hungry.” She whines while rubbing her stomach. “I’m just hoping that the food in the Fortress is actually tasty.”

Aether lets out a soft chuckle, “it’s a prison Paimon. I doubt that the food will be any good”

Paimon pouts crossing her arms. “Hopefully will be rightfully compensated for our due diligence. Oh! Maybe even something from the Creator themselves!”

The traveler gives her a look, “you shouldn’t think like that Paimon, not when they are currently missing right now.”

The travel guide immediately covers her lips, muttering out a small apology.

“Speaking of the Creator,” Paimon says, “do you really think Childe might know something? I mean, we’ve heard how he’s talked about them before.”

It was true, during their time in Liyue when they had met Childe, he had expressed how heavily he revered the Creator. Not just him, all of the harbingers they’ve met have mentioned the Creator in a positive light. Aether even recalls when the Wanderer told him that the only thing all of the harbingers could agree on was their ultimate respect for them.

“Based off our interactions with the Fatui before, they might have some respect for Their Grace. But we still have no idea why they want the Gnosis, maybe it’s connected to the Creator.”

Paimon nods in agreement. “You’re right. If the gnosis are what connect the Archons to Celestia, then maybe the Creator has something similar?”

“Hopefully if the Fatui got their hands on Their Grace, they haven’t left Fontaine yet. We should still be able to rescue them.” Aether adds.

“Paimon hopes so too! Oh I can only imagine the type of horrors they could be putting them through!”

“Are you talking about Their Grace?!”

A familiar girl with a pink bob holding a camera in her head pops out of a bush quickly approaching the table. It was Charlotte, and she had a large smile on her face.

“Do you two have any nuggets of information about Their Grace? Oh please share it with me, I’ll make it worth your while!”

Paimon and Aether share a look before looking back at the journalist.

“We don’t have any new information on The Creator.” Paimon explained, “we didn’t even know they had returned until Monsieur Neuvillette told us.”

Charlotte makes a look of surprise, “wait seriously? It was such big news! I’m sure everyone in Teyvat wrote the piece I had written.”

Charlotte places her camera on the table taking a seat across from them. “I’m just hoping for Their Grace to have a speedy recovery. I would love to interview them if they let me, it just seems like all of the big names in Fontaine never have the time for an interview. Monsieur Neuvillette and the Duke of Meropide have been on the top of my list for ages now!”

“Oh right, you’re a journalist Charlotte! ” Paimon exclaimed, “do you have an information about the Duke?”

Charlotte ponders for a moment, “not really, just the same regurgitated information I get from people who leave the Fortress. Why do you ask?”

“We actually are going to the Fortress later today.” Aether answers.

Charlotte’s eyes get as big as saucers as she’s jumping in her seat. “You two are going to the Fortress?! Will you two please get some information about the Duke for me?

Noticing the restrained looks on their face, Charlotte quickly adds, “I’ll pay for your meal! Yeah…! Let’s make it a deal, you get information on the Duke for me and this meal of yours is on me!”

Paimon grins, “it’s a deal!”

Charlotte shares Paimon’s enthusiasm as she pulls out a small bag of mora ready to pay for the meal. At that moment, the owner returns with multiple plates and bowls filled with various amounts of entrees and desserts wheeling it to the table.

“H—how much did you order…?”

———

Many journalist stood outside of the Palais Mermonia demanding answers from their Archon who had entered the building earlier that morning. Luckily, gardes stood outside preventing anyone from entering.

Inside of the chief justice’s office was him, the God of Justice, and the Champion Duelist whose hair was damp with sea water.

“I checked the surrounding area,” Clorinde says, “there is no traces of Their Grace anywhere. The only logical conclusion is that the Fatui must’ve done something with them.”

Neuvillette nods. “Thank you for looking Clorinde, your help is appreciated.”

Clorinde nods, “it’s no trouble. We all want Their Grace to be found safe and sound.”

Furina had a worried look on her face as she paces back and forth in the office. “W—what are we supposed to do now? We looked all over Fontaine and they aren’t anywhere.”

“Lady Furina.”

Furina stops pacing, turning her gaze over to Neuvillette who looked calm considering the situation. “I think it’s time to meet with the Kanve, wouldn’t you agree?”

“T—that Knave?” Furina stammers, “ha, why would we meet with her? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

Neuvillette clears his throat, “until we find Their Grace, we must operate like normal. If the others find out that we lost Their Grace—“

Furina lets out a breath putting on a confident stance, “yes! Right of course!” She interrupts, “I was thinking the same thing… I will prepare for the two of us to discuss relations with her as soon as possible.”

“Who said that I would be joining you?”

Focalors lets out a short gasp as she quickly approaches his desk, her gloved hands balling into fists. “Y—you expect me to attend the meeting alone! No! You must go with me!”

Neuvillette closes his eyes as he shake her head, “I must focus all my attention on the Creator, we must locate them before the rest of Fontaine and Teyvat begin asking questions. As the Archon, this is something you should be able to handle. Correct?”

Furina tenses slightly but lets out a sigh. “But… wouldn’t attending the meeting be the best thing for Their Grace?”

Neuvillette furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

Furina’s confident flair was back just as quickly as it dissipated, “Attending the meeting will give us the chance to indirectly interrogate the harbingers before she even knows that we suspect her.”

Noticing the look on the chief justice’s face, Furina lets out a boastful laugh. “Naturally I, the God of Justice, would be the first one to think of this! Worry not Neuvillette, I believe that after this meeting, the truth shall be revealed!”

Clorinde mutters how she needed a towel and Neuvillette lets out a sigh.

“Very well... I will participate in the meeting.”

In between Fontaine’s Lumidouce Harbor and Chenyu Vale, a large ship was anchored the familiar insignia imprinted in the sail. There was a plethora of Fatui agents stationed on the ship that it was overwhelming, it would be impossible to infiltrate the ship without being spotted.

Many of the agents weren’t even aware why there was such an urgency to return to the homeland. Curious glances and whispers spread throughout the ship like wildfire, wondering what could the Knave possibly be doing in the lower deck that no one else was allowed to enter unless they brought news from Fontaine. All of them knew better than to question their harbinger, but she hadn’t been seen since the night before.

“Your Grace.”

Arlecchino’s soft voice cuts through your thoughts. Fontaine was in danger and you were the only one who could help, at least that’s what she believed. It was only a matter of time before the nation was completely wiped off the map, Lady Furina has done nothing but bury her head in the sand.

You glance at her face, despite her sharp features she still had a soft yet powerful air around her. Maybe that’s why the children from the House of the Hearth trust her so much.

“Are you hungry? I have chefs on board, they can prepare anything you desire.” Her hand rested on top of yours, her long nails rubbing against your knuckles in a comforting way.

You were famished. You knew she was capable of, but she was making you feel so welcomed. It felt as if you could trust her, tell her anything and she would understand.

You nod slowly and she smiles.

“I’ll be right back.”

She stands up from her spot next to you leaving the room. Her luscious black and white hair that was pulled into a low ponytail flowed behind her. Arlecchino returned quickly letting out a soft sigh.

“They are preparing a Snezhnayian specialty, the food is quite delicious. I hope it’s to your liking” She commented placing her hand right back on top of yours.

“We will be heading towards Snezhnaya at sunset.” She says. “Although leaving Fontaine wasn’t originally apart of my plan, but considering the circumstances, changes had to be made.”

You furrow your brows. “The circumstances?”

Arlecchino nods. “Your power…or rather, lack there of.”

“I have a colleague, I do not trust nor like him very much but I cannot deny his intelligence, I believe he may be able to figure out the answer… or even Her Majesty may know.”

So there was a colleague within the Fatui who had extreme intelligence that might be able to help you. Maybe he would even know why you were healing so quickly? Or does that tie into your “godly” abilities too?

“Is that why we are leaving so quickly? Because of my supposed amnesia?” You ask.

The Knave shakes her head, “not necessarily. It’s mainly for your safety, you don’t wish to stay in a nation that tried to kill you, right Your Grace?”

You were forced into a corner with that question. Wanting to stay in a nation that almost killed you was bad, but wanting to go to a nation that had the capability to kidnap you wasn’t any better. Yet you had to pick your poison, and in that moment you decided—

“Right.” You reply. “Leaving Fontaine is the smartest option.”

“I knew that you would see it my way,” she praises, “I only want what’s best for you and all of Teyvat.” She gives your hand a squeeze a small smile spreading on her red lips.

A small knock on the door interrupts the moment, Arlecchino looks at the door her gaze becoming icy. “You may enter.”

The door opens and a young lady whose face is obscured by a mask enters and she immediately kneels.

“Y—your Grace… Lady Harbinger.” Her voice was almost breathless, her gaze transfixed on you. “I have news from Fontaine.”

Arlecchino lets out a sigh crossing her legs. “News? What is it?”

“Focalors has agreed to have a political meeting with you. The chief justice Neuvillette will also be attending.”

The Knave doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that spreads on her face, “Very well then. Was there a time mentioned for this meeting?”

“In the next few hours Lady Harbinger. We’ve already got a boat ready to return back to Fontaine’s harbor.”

Arlecchino stands, her gaze becomes soft once more when she looks back at you. “Your Grace, I will return as soon as I can. If you have any needs anyone on the ship will be more than happy to serve you.”

She exchanges a few whispers with the agent before giving you one last smile leaving the bottom deck. The agent looks at you one last time before stuttering out.

“I—I’ll go get your meal immediately Your Grace!” She rushes out of the door leaving you alone once more.

The Fortress of Meropide was more grand than Aether had anticipated. Surrounded by Fontaine’s sea, there was no escape from this prison besides the path they embarked, which was at the rear of the Opera Epiclese.

After heaving their mugshots taken, Aether and Paimon are escorted onto a ship where they meet their tour guide, who is also just another prisoner within the Fortress. The entire tour he was standoffish and dry only giving the required amount of information. If the two asked for more information about credit coupons, secret rules, or about the Creator, he would say they’d have to pay for that.

The prisoner leads the two down the large hallway of the Fortress when multiple gardemeks came around the corner. The traveler immediately takes a stance ready for a fight when a voice eases his worries coming around the corner with the machinery.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide,” the man greets. He had dark clothing and dark hair with a scar under his eye.

“Y—your Grace!” The tour guide quickly says, his standoffish nature immediately disappears. “Lovely weather we’re having!”

The man glances over at the tour guide, “Hm? Oh yes, I guess the weather is nice. If we could see it.”

The prisoner lets out an awkward laugh as the Duke looks back at Paimon and Aether. “I’m Wriothesley, but you can call me Your Grace.”

“You’re the Duke of Meropide?” Paimon asks in a shocked tone. Wriothesley nods.

“So, how was your tour?” He asks, “was everything up to standard?”

Aether glances as the tour guide for a moment before giving Wriothesley a firm nod. “Yep. No complaints here.”

“Wonderful.” Wriothesley smiles, “I think we should be able to reward you with more credit coupons then?”

“T—thank you Your Grace! Thank you!” The tour guide says. He then looks over at the traveler, “and thank you for such kind words! If you ever need anything! Anything at all! Please come find me!”

Once he rushes off, the Duke turns his attention back onto the newcomers.

“So, is it normal for you to greet all newbies in person like this?” Paimon asks.

Wriothesley lets out a soft laugh. “No it’s not. I just heard that you two were friends with Neuvillette so I figured I finish the tour myself.”

“Wait, how do you know that?” Aether questions.

“The Fortress might look like it’s cut off from the rest of the world but word still travels fast. Just like what happened to Their Eminence.”

Paimon glances at the traveler briefly. Wriothesley continues, “Many people in the Fortress were ready to leave just for a chance at seeing the Creator. But since they are still in the hospital recovering, I managed to keep them under control.”

“What else do you know about the Creator?” Aether asks.

“Nothing really.” He responds, “I haven’t had the time to leave the Fortress and go visit them myself. Unless you’re talking about the basic information, there’s books all around the Fortress that can tell you that.”

Wriothesley continues on with the tour, showing the where the so-called cafeteria was, the Pankration Ring, and where they would report to work everyday. He also mentions Sigewinne, the nurse who looks after anyone who gets hurt or sick.

Lastly, he shows them where they’ll be sleeping. As he explains the procedures for their room, Aether gazes falls onto someone walking nearby. An oddly familiar magician.

Lyney stops walking and looks back at him, but once Wriothesley notices, Lyney lets out a soft laugh doing a dramatic bow.

“Well hello there Your Grace! It’s lovely to see you out of your office!”

Wriothesley crosses his arms, “it’s good to see you too, but shouldn’t you be reporting to work?”

The magician gives him a cheeky smile as he stands back up, “of course! That’s where I was heading right now! But these two must be very important to get a personal tour from the Duke himself.”

Wriothesley says nothing in response but Lyney quickly excuses himself, his gaze falling onto Aether once more before walking out of sight.

“Come on,” Wriothesley says, “there’s one last stop I’d like to make.”

———

The three sit at one of the tables in the cafeteria, the chef bringing over three welfare meals. They remove the lids revealing the delectable meals inside causing Paimons mouth to water.

“Oh is this what the food is like in the Fortress?” She rubes her hands together, “Paimon could get used to this!”

“Actually, I managed to pull a few strings to get this meal, after today, you might not get another meal like this.”

The fairy didn’t seem to be paying attention as she keeps shoving more food into her mouth. The traveler rolls his eyes at his companion, looking back at the Duke.

“So you said there was books in the Fortress about the Creator?” Aether asks, his fork pushing around his meal mindlessly.

Wriothesley nods. “There are groups within the Fortress to make people feel more welcome or comfortable. There’s quite a few revolved around Their Eminence. Prayer groups, wanting a stronger relationship, or just normal worship in general, they’re actually pretty popular.”

Paimon swallows the food in her mouth, “How do you feel about them?”

Wriothesley ponders for a second, “I don’t know anyone who has a negative view on Their Eminence, including myself. I would be honored to go up to the surface soon and share a cup of tea with them.”

Aether didn’t say anything in response, but he had a feeling that Wriothesley knew more about the Creator than he let on. He did say word travels fast from the surface, is it possible he already knows the Creator is missing?

“Anyways,” Wriothesley says, “I have other things to attend to, enjoy your time in the Fortress and try not to cause any trouble.”

The Duke gives one last farewell, leaving the table without another word. Aether and Paimon continue eating their welfare meals preparing themselves to adjust to their new situation and figure what exactly Childe may know about the Creator.

———

“You were right.”

In a dark corner of the Fortress, the twins from the House of the Hearth spoke in quiet whispers.

“Paimon and the Traveler, I just saw them.” Lyney explained.

Lynette’s ear lay flat on her head, her tail swaying slightly. “Monsieur Neuvillette must’ve told them and they’re here to investigate.”

“We have to do what Father told us to do.“ Lyney adds, “although playing ignorant to figure what they know won’t hurt either.”

Lynette lets out a sigh. “…and what about Tartaglia?”

Lyney shrugs, “what about him? He’s not here. We have to focus on the Creator. Without Their Grace, the Fatui won’t be able to—“

“I know.” Lynette interrupts. “Let’s just focus on the traveler for now.

“I must say, the timing of this meeting seems almost convient…” Arlecchino narrows her gaze as she brings her teacup up to her lips.

“I’ll just cut straight to the chase. I’m here about my colleague, Childe and of course, Their Grace.”

The table inside of Neuvillette’s office was covered in sweets from Snezhnaya, something the Kanve brought to ease the tensions within the meeting. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Childe was declared innocent by you, the Iudex, yet was still given a guilty verdict by the Oratrice…” Arlecchino explains, “and only days after that, you declare that Their Grace is an imposter and almost kill them.”

Furina shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Y-yes… we are aware of our… transgressions. The Creator is being well looked after and is healing quite quickly.”

Arlecchino perks up, “Oh? They are? So is it possible for me to see them for myself?”

“That won’t be possible at the moment, I apologize.” Neuvillette quickly adds in.

Arlecchino brings a forkful of cake up to her mouth as she lets out a scoff. “An outright refusal? I must say, I am surprised…”

Neuvillette crosses his arms, “this meeting wasn’t called to talk about Their Grace, but rather Mr. Tartaglia, correct?”

“That is correct. Then am I able to enter the Fortress to check on the wellbeing of my colleague?”

“That also won’t be possible.”

Arlecchino sighs, “so I cannot see Their Grace and I cannot see Childe. What exactly will this meeting accomplish?”

“We already have a course of action for Their Grace.” Focalors adds, “but we cannot share it with you or any other nations for now. This meeting was just a… common courtesy”

“And as for Mr. Tartaglia I am investigating matter.” The chief justice adds.

“A common courtesy?” The Knave questions, “everyone in Teyvat is wondering just what exactly will Fontaine do after committing the biggest sin known to man… and all you can say is that it’s confidential? Not to mention the prophecy you refuse to address.”

Furina shoves another bite of cake into her mouth, scooting her chair closer to Neuvillette.

“As long as Their Grace is in our nation, they are under our jurisdiction.” Neuvillette explains.

Arlecchino clicks her tongue. “A disappointing outcome indeed… but I cannot say I am shocked.”

Arlecchino finished her tea, “the Fatui is willing to extend our help if you need it. You all seem to have a lot on your plate at the moment. Maybe it’s best to pass some of the responsibility onto someone else?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Neuvillette states.

The Knave stands from her seat, brushing her bangs out of the way, revealing her red X eyes. “I think it’s safe to say this meeting is concluded, I have to return back to Snezhnaya immediately.”

Furina raises a brow, “returing so soon? W—why such a rush to leave?”

It falls silent in the room for a few seconds.

“Her Majesty cares very dearly about the Creator, I am expected to report any and all news directly to her.” Arlecchino explains, her back facing the two.

“Snezhnaya as a whole cares deeply about Their Grace, and once they heal completely we will welcome them with open arms… not a trial.”

Focalors looks down at her lap as Arlecchino leaves the office returning to her ship anchored near the border of Fontaine and Liyue. A sinister smile spread on her lips while Neuvillette and Furina sit in the office in silence, a sour taste lingering in their mouth even with the baked goods in front of them.

Note: Good luck to all my Arlecchino wanters! I got her and her sig weapon so I give all my luck to you <3

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys @Itm-acct @honey-lemonz @ymechi @nervouseaglelover @livelaughlovekuni @vianitry @vvyeislazzy @kbar1013 @ichiraku-verse @chaoticfivesworld @mabvo @noahrandom @haunts-gh0st @pix-stuff @riiriin @emmbny @shiki-jin @ra404 @leekingsman @ash1 @mahi-does-some-art @bitchyfanfics-posts @emilymikado @sarah22447 @swagbucksjester @nex-crowley @iruiji @cloise @scalyalpaca @game-savvy @dreamlessnight @myluckymoon @luxie963 @spffldlbrnf @missnella-nova

I know it’s been a while so if you want to be removed let me know!!

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin

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netmors · 3 days

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STAR WARS: Eleventh Fleet AU

Hey-hey, I worked, caught a cold, got sick and that’s enough… …so, concept art for the Eleventh Fleet.

Ar'alani and Vah'nya's designs are fairly simple, but the problem with them in particular, and the Chiss in general, is their clothing and style. There are many official references, including those from Legends, but each artist still has his own vision regarding, for example, the shape of the fleet. Somewhere there is a strong homage to the design from the old canon, somewhere it was modernized, and in the latter they added the same “honor's chains”, which look a little strange on the laconic form. It seems to be in the Chiss style, but very impractical.

As a result, I am reworking the design of the expansion and defense fleet uniform, but more on that another time. Let's return to Ar'alani and Vah'nya.

At the beginning of the events of the "Eleventh Fleet", Senior General Ar'alani on his flagship "Vigilant" is increasingly confronted with the Grysks. A year will pass since her last meeting with Thrawn, when the invaders of the Ascendency space will openly attack the Chiss ships.

Such cat and mouse would continue for another year until the disappearance of another Night Dragon class war cruiser, subsequently leading to disaster in the heart of the Chiss Ascendancy. The Senior General will be one of the few superiors who, along with Ba'kif, can survive. Much of this will be down to Vanto and Ronan - unaccounted for variables in the Grysk's plans. The trust placed in Thrawn's "alien protégés" paid off in full.

The Senior General was often accompanied by Senior Navigator Vah'nya. "Vigilant" almost always accepted missions to search for missing navigators. Vah'nya not only guided the ship through the stars and darkness of outer space, but she was much better at rehabilitating rescued navigators, as well as leading the other navigators on the ship. Friendship with Eli played an important role in this.

Because of her "anomaly" as a Navigator who hasn't lost her powers into adulthood, many of the regulations and rules simply don't work for Vah'nya the way they do for other girls. And to be an “anomaly” for Sindikure is a very subtle walking on the edge of a charrik. And yet, to the dissatisfaction of some aristocrats and syndics, the girl manages to balance on it for quite a long time.

+ bonus Ba'kif timeline concept art.

Because I’m not entirely sure that I’m right, but I really wanted to think about what this gorgeous grandpa would have looked like during the Thrawn. Ascendency Trilogy. And I also reworked his “chains” and other form elements quite a bit. And yes, I’m more than sure that Thrawn adopted Ba'kif’s “style” in his time.

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jgracie · 3 days

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ SPEED DRIVE!

ferrari driver!percy jackson x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

warnings one swear word!

on the radio . . . speed drive (charlie xcx)

percy knew it was a bad idea leaving his house without at least a pair of sunglasses to conceal his identity. he was craving cookie dough ice cream, the grocery store wasn’t too far away and it was the middle of the night - who would possibly recognise him at a time like this?

the answer is many people. while percy did love his loyal fans, both tifosi and others, even he had to admit they were a little crazy. all it took was for one to snap a photo and post it on twitter and the rest seemed to immediately spawn all around him

“percy, is it true that luke might lose his seat next year?” he heard one voice say as he attempted to weave through the thick crowd of people. why couldn’t he have one second of peace? unfortunately, percy had made another awful decision that night - walking to the grocery store

this left ferrari’s golden boy with two options: either tough out the wall home with fans and paparazzi alike swarming him, or find someone who was willing to drive him home. with cars on the street in front of him were stationery thanks to the red light, percy made his decision

he bolted for the first one that caught his eye, a car that was small, (ironically) bright red and most importantly had an open roof. percy also had to admit the driver was kind of pretty, at least from what he could see from that far away

the light turned yellow and you prepared yourself to continue driving. you’d only recently gotten your drivers license and this was your first time driving without someone more experienced with you in the car, so you were just praying to end up at your apartment in one piece

just as the light became green and you began to drive, some random guy jumped into the passenger seat of your car, causing your heart rate to increase dramatically and your foot to immediately press on the brakes - out of shock or fear (or both), you weren’t sure

“drive!” he nearly yelled at you. you just stared at him, your mouth agape. it was way too late at night for this. at your state, percy huffed and leaned over to the wheel, beginning to steer for you

this snapped you out of the daze you were in and you slapped his hands away, your brows furrowing in anger as you drove, “who the fuck are you and what do you think you’re doing in my car? i’m pulling over right now, you need to get out.”

“no, please, i promise i didn’t mean any harm! can you just drop me off at my house?” he asked. you didn’t need to look at him to know he was incredibly desperate. who was this guy? as you recalled his face from when he first got into your car, you realised he did look a little familiar, but you still couldn’t figure out his identity

at your silence, percy continued, “i’ll do anything, do you like car racing? i can get you tickets for that!”

okay, so he was rich rich. you didn’t know the first thing about racing, but one of your friends was obsessed with formula one. specifically, a driver called peter jameson (or something along those lines). still, you rolled your eyes at his offer, disliking the way he attempted to bribe you

“no, it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything. where do you live?”

after percy told you his address, the car ride was silent. neither of you knew what to say to the other. you were still shaken by his sudden appearance, and percy was trying to conceal the blush that coated his cheeks. he was right, you were beautiful. the moon made your skin glow and your eyes brighter. from the death grip you had on the wheel, percy could tell you were new at driving. cute

“thanks a lot, you have absolutely no idea how much you helped me tonight,” percy said as he got out of your car. part of you was a little sad to see him go. sure, he freaked you out, but something about him was magnetic - maybe it was those sea green eyes that put all of poseidon’s oceans to shame, or the light dusting of freckles you hadn’t noticed until now

giving him a small smile, you said, “you’re welcome. have a good night.” you stayed for a little and watched as he entered his home, a bittersweet feeling tugging at your heart

once you’d gotten home, you noticed he’d left something on the passenger seat. a strip of paper with a line of messily scrawled numbers lay on the leather

call me. (917) 173-1839 — PJ

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson blurb #f1 driver pjo #f1 driver percy jackson #f1 driver percy jackson x reader #cynwrites

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smallpwbbles · 2 days

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Okay finished knuckles series! It’s defo a mixed bag and I think many peeps aren’t gonna be happy with the direction this series went, but I can’t lie it was very fun, I feel like the crew had a great time making this and it shows! It’s as wacky as I thought it would be!

I do agree with the gripe knuckles wasn’t in it more, I’m not sure if that was just a decision or if it was a budgeting issue with the CGI (which was great btw)

Episode one was my favourite cuz I’m biased towards the Wachowski brothers and mother Maddie but yeah this was a fun series for me!

#knuckles series spoilers #knuckles series #sonic #sonic the hedgehog

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worldofkuro · 3 days

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile V

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I think I wrote more for this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter dear readers. Let me know what you think about it.

“ You look.. dishearten, my friend”

You sighed as you looked at your friend: Alice. She was one of the first female friends you made 6 years ago at school. She was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met. She had long blonde locks with beautiful sapphire eyes, her voice sounded like a siren’s song. You were proud to be her friend, almost all of the boys who laid their eyes upon her were almost falling to their knees ready to propose to her.

“ I have no idea what to do for Alastor’s birthday.” you sighed “ no idea of a present.”

Alice clapped in her hand with a big grin and you couldn’t help but scoff at her radiance. She always loved when you were talking about yours and Alastor’s relationship. You didn’t really know why but she wanted to meet him. Well… yes, you knew why. Alastor was … He was…

“ How old is he ?” she asked you as she drank her cup of tea.

“ Well, he is going to turn seventeen. So I want to make him something special.” you sighed once again as you laid your cup of hot chocolate on the table.

“ How long have you known each other ? “

“ Almost eight years.” you smiled fondly. Eight years. You’ve been friends with Alastor for eight years and you have loved every single year. You looked into your cup of hot chocolate, the colour reminded you of Alastor’s eyes. Alastor wasn’t a little boy anymore, he had become taller. Taller than you, his frame was more muscular thanks to his hunting trip, he had become more teasing, sneakier, and cunnier but the biggest problem was… He had become so handsome. He lost his chubby cheeks, now his jaw was sharp, his eyes were even more intense than before when he was interested in something, he was–

“ Should I let you alone with your chocolate~?” you jerked your head toward Alice who had a teasing smile on her lips. You chuckled while shaking your head, blushing a little. You daydreamed again ! “ Why do you not want me to meet him, I really want to meet your beau, you know? I have never seen you like this, never did someone make you react like this.”

“ Listen… He is.. an important childhood friend and he can be … intense sometimes. I don’t think you could handle him.” you said as you sipped your drink. You didn’t feel comfortable making Alastor and Alice meet. You knew that Alastor could be an ass sometimes and Alice was too sweet to … understand it ? “ But back to the topic, what should I give him for his birthday …”

“ From what you told me, he seems to really care about you, and with this war going on, I’m sure he’d rather you kept your money.” she smiled at you as you bit your lips. That was the problem. Alastor was going to be 17 years, next year he would turn 18. That means he … would be taken to war right? You felt yourself getting paler as many scenarios went inside your head.

The only good news was that his father had been dragged to war, unfortunately just like yours, meaning that Alastor and Marie were finally alone in their house. After the hunting’s trip’s accident eight years ago, you’ve never trusted his father again. Many times you went to Marie’s house and each time her husband was home you could feel the tension lingering in the air. When he was here, you and Alastor would go outside, play with Husker, play tag or hide and seek.

Alastor never really talked about his father, but you could sense that he hated him. But you didn’t know why and one day, you tried to push on the subject, you wanted to help him in any way possible.

This was the first time Alastor had raised his voice at you.

“ Are you okay?” you lifted your head toward your friend. “ He won’t go to war, from what the paper says, it seems like it’s going to end soon!” she smiled at you as she took your hand in hers. You sighed, praying that you would never have to send Alastor to war. Alastor has tried to reassure you by saying that if he were to go to war, he would be an amazing soldier.

War is like a big hunt.

“ Yes, yes… I think I’m going to go home. I need to finish some homework and I don’t want to leave my mother alone.”

“ Did Delilah steal your work again?”

“ I think, but who cares, I’ll just do it again… Well, your beautifulness, might I walk you home?” you bowed as she laughed and you began to walk toward the richest quartier of New Orleans. You gossiped with Alice about what happened during this school’s week. She was so sure John was interested in pursuing a relationship with you. You rolled your eyes at her, she always liked love’s story.

You did too, you weren’t going to lie, but when you thought about your future with a husband… You thought about–

“ Well, here we are! Are you sure you don’t want to stay here, I made cupcakes this morning!” she exclaimed with a big grin. You smiled at her, saying you really needed to go home.

You waved her goodbye and walked home. You tried to make your way home quickly, if you were lucky, a letter from your father would be waiting for you at home. You had prayed each day that once the stupid war was over, he would come back alive. You opened your house’s door and went inside, hurrying toward the living room. Did your father sended you a letter ?

“ Look who’s here~”

You turned around with a big smile, feeling your heart thumb loudly in your chest. How could he make you react like this everytime?

“ Alastor !” You hugged him before kissing him on both cheeks. Alastor had stopped flinching when you were touching him, even more surprising , he was very clingy with you. Always being in your personal space like he owned it.

“ Seems like someone drank hot chocolate but didn't bother wiping her mouth.” he wiped your bottom lips with his gloved hand. You flushed as he stared at your mouth, keeping his finger on your lips. You could see your own reflection in his glasses. Unlike before, you couldn’t read Alastor as easily as when he was a child, unless you were alone together and mister decided to be “vulnerable” with you. But you… You always felt safe and most of all, you felt seen.

Alastor always had a glint in his eyes when he was looking at you. You’ve never seen him look at something or someone else like this… And you liked it. Was it selfish to crave his attention… maybe not. You both were friends, special friends, childhood friends… But, Oh Lord, sometimes you craved more, but you didn’t know what. If Alastor was looking at you like this as a friend, how would he look at his future wife?

“ Oh my dear, you look starving.”

You gasped as you took a step back while Alastor was smirking at you, his arms folded behind his back. You stuck your tongue to him, like you used to, you were maybe a young lady now, but with Alastor you were… yourself.

“ Young lady ! Didn’t I tell you to stop sticking your tongue ! I’m sorry, Alastor.” said your Mother while Marie, who was just behind her, was laughing behind her hand. “ Good Lord, when you both are together you are back to being children, God preserve me.” she sighed as she went into the kitchen.

“ Yes, listen to your Mother. Keep your tongue inside your pretty mouth.” teased Alastor as he sat on the sofa with his usual mocking smile. “ Now my dear, do you have news to share with me?”

You sat on the other side of the sofa and began to gossip as you usually did. There weren’t any microphones or notes like when you were children, but it was the same as your broadcast like you used to do in his bedroom. Just you and Alastor, gossiping about your daily life.

“ And then Alice said that John was interested in me but I think he just–”

“ Should I be alarmed ? It’s not the first time I heard this name ?” teased Alastor as he took off his glasses to clean them with a tissue from his chest pocket.

“ Which one? Alice? She wants to meet you…” you mumbled and tensed when you saw Alastor’s smile.

“ Well, why didn't you say so! I would be delighted to meet the darling that blesses my sweet little friend with her presence when I’m not here!” he exclaimed as he stood up. You jumped off the sofa as you forced him to sit back down.

“ No Alastor !”

“ Oh come on my dear, do you want to keep me all to yourself ? How bold.” he smiled as he watched you struggle to keep him sitting. You groaned and decided to just sit on his lap to keep him from standing up. So there you were on your knees on each side of his thighs. You heard him inhale deeply, his hand gripping the sofa. Don’t blushed, don’t blushed, don’t blushed…

“ How bold, indeed, dear…” he stared at you, without his glasses. There it was. That glint. The one who made you… Feeling strange. You didn’t know if you were scared or…or what? There was something lingering in the air... He opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“ What do you want for your birthday ?”

His body tensed for a second, staring straight at you before he relaxed himself and laughed, tilting his head backward. He shook his head as he rolled his eyes.

“ Well, just like always. Celebrating with you and Mother. What could I ask for more?” he smiled at you but as you tried to stand up from his thighs, he grabbed your waist and pulled you near his face. “ Should we invite John?”

“ Who–? Wait, John? Why?” you frowned as you looked at his smile which seemed tense. He was grabbing your waist tighter now. His grip should hurt you but.. it was oddly comfortable. Why did he suddenly change–?

“ Wait… Are you jealous?” you smiled as you saw his smile twitched. “ Yes, yes, you are. Haha !” you laughed hoping you sounded mocking, but even to your ears, you almost sounded pleased, relieved. You squeaked as he pinned you to the sofa and began to tickle you. You squirmed as your laughter was getting louder and louder, gasping for air.

“ Do you remember the rules, dear?” he asked with a cunning smile, knowing perfectly that you couldn’t answer right now. “ Rule number one: Never drop your guard.” he stopped tickling you “ Go on dear. Rule number two?” he tilted his head toward you, staring at your red and teary face.

“ You are the strongest here.” you gasped as you tried to wipe your tears that threatened to stream down your face but Alastor holded both of your wrist in one hand.

“ Rule number three.”

“ I give up…” you breathed as you closed your eyes. You felt his head next to yours, his lips almost touching your ears.

“ Give up yourself to me.”

Your eyes opened suddenly, feeling your body being hot. You looked at Alastor who was above you but he seemed confused. He tilted his head as he watched your expression.

“ Are you okay, you look almost as red as Eamon ?” he laughed at you as he stood up, putting his glasses back on.

“ What did you just say?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“... You look almost as red as Eamon?” you shook your head as you sat up and stared at him. He seemed really confused, did you imagine this? Is it what you wanted to hear? You groaned as you hid your face in your head, it was because of Alice’s stories, your mind was playing tricks on you now! “ By the way dear, it seems like you have a letter.” he said as he held a letter to you. It was from your father !

You took the letter from his hand with a happy grin, the letter was already open, surely your mother, and read what your father wanted you to know. He was okay, he missed you but mostly there were rumors about how the war will be soon over. you sighed in relief. Your father would come home. You just knew it. You looked at Alastor who was observing your face.

“ You still have no news from your father?”

“ No, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been killed for insubordination.” he said with detachment as he looked at his nails. You nodded before turning your head toward the entrance where you heard a knock. You stood up and went to open the door and froze.

“ Alice ?”

“ I’ll be quick, you forgot your bag at the coffee shop.” she smiled as she held your bag toward you.

“ How… But… You went back to the coffee shop?”

“No, no, a gentleman came to my door and asked if the bag was mine.”

“ Alice… A man came to your door with my bag and you are not worried ? How did he know where you lived ? Does that mean he followed us?” you forced her to enter your house, looking outside “ What does he look like?” You squealed as you were jerked inside the house by your dress. You turned to see Alastor who was staring at you, with a pissed expression, his smile still present.

“ Are you dumb? If there is a man who is following you, why would you show your face, confirming that you are living here.” he asked you coldly. You closed the door quickly.

“ The man isn’t here for me, if he is here. He didn’t follow me, he followed her.” you pointed to Alice. “ You can understand that, I mean, look at her.”

You watched as Alastor looked at Alice. You couldn’t see his face but you saw Alice’s who seemed to try to make herself even smaller than she was. He shook her hand with his usual charming smile you guessed.

“ Quite a pleasure to be meeting you, I’ve heard a lot of you. You seemed like a clever woman, I would have never guessed that you would walk down the street with a soon to be stalker at your feet, bringing this man to my dear friend’s door!”

“ N-nice to be meeting you, sir. I’m.. I’m sorry..?” Alice stared at you, begging you with her eyes to do something. You sighed, you have told her Alastor was intense.

“ No, no, No need to be sorry. It is not your fault, but the gentleman’s one. You both shouldn’t stay outside alone.”

“ Alastor, maybe we are overthinking. Maybe he was a nice gentleman–”

“ Oh my friend, hush.” he turned to Alice “ What did he look like?”

You watched as Alice described the man’s appearance. You were dumbfounded. Did Alastor just shush you? You crossed your arms on your chest as you pouted, watching both of your friends talking. They looked good together… You bit your lips. No. Alice wouldn’t be able to stay an entire day with Alastor. You stomped your foot on the floor and you clapped your hand together.

“ Well, dear friends of mine, go into the living room, I'll go with some drinks.”

“ No, no, I won’t bother you any longer. I’m going home.”

“ I’ll accompany you.Stay here.”

You stared in shock as Alastor went into the kitchen where your mothers were. Did he just say what you thought he said? Alice came closer to you and winked at you.

“ He seems like a good man, keep it up.”

Alastor came back with his jacket on, he opened the door for Alice and left without kissing you goodbye. You stared at the closed door. Did Alastor fall for Alice, like every boy she met? You ran to your room, and jumped on your bed, burying your face in your pillow. Did he really leave, leaving his mother? you threw your pillow on the wall.

“ To hell with him ! I don’t need him.” you said as you wiped the tears that you haven’t even felt falling down your cheeks. You went to the bathroom, ignoring your mother and Marie’s question about your teary eyes. You washed up, put on a nightgown and went into your bed. You stared at the wall before closing your eyes. You couldn’t fall asleep, you were imaginiting Alice and Alastor walking down the road, hands in hands. You felt tears whelming up in your eyes. You didn’t care! You didn’t!

You didn’t know how long you kept thinking about it but you were still awake when you felt a hand stroking your cheeks. You sighed , nuzzling your cheek against the hand. You guessed your mother was coming to comfort you even though she didn’t know why you were upset.

“ Dear friend, why are you crying?”

You sat up immediately and stared at the person in front of you.

“ Alastor…Why are you here?” you asked as you held the cover against you. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Crying over him. You were too proud. And you weren’t crying for him!

“ Well, I came to give you your kiss, dummy.” he approached his face toward you, staring at your eyes. “ But why are you crying? Is it because of the man?” his eyes went cold, his smile widened but there was no warmth like usual. He seemed.. menacing. “ Did he come here? Did he touch you? Where?”

You just stared at him as tears were falling down your cheeks. It seemed like seeing you cry made him more and more upset.

“ This bastard was here? I fucking walked your little friend home so I could see if someone was lingering around here and that bastard had the nerve to come and–”

You didn’t know what came over you, you covered his face with your blanket and you kissed the place where the blanket covered his lips. He froze. You pressed your lips against the tissue and then slowly, stepped back. You stared at him, his face still covered…

“ No.. I was just… afraid that you would leave me for Alice.” you whispered looking at his frame. Seeing that he didn’t remove the blanket, you understood that… he knew that both of you would not be talking about what is happening right now. “ She is a beautiful lady, and she is interesting, sweet… a perfect lady you would say.”

“ Don’t put words in my mouth dear.” You chuckled as he moved his hand toward your cheek, wiping your tears away. “ So, you thought she was going to take me away from you? How absurd. Nothing could tear me away from you, not even yourself.”

You stopped breathing at this confession, your heart beating even stronger. You didn’t know what to do with all of your feelings. You were just so relieved that Alastor saw your friendship like you did.

“ Can I take off your blanket now?”

You laughed and uncovered his face, his warm smile was back, his glint in his eyes even more present. You looked away, fidgeting with your nightgown. You needed to erase the tension quickly.

“ You look like an absolute mess my dear friend! I’ll let you rest and please, do get your beauty sleep unless you want to crack every mirror you shall see.” he laughed as you tried to hit him with a pillow. He kissed you on the forehead, giggling before leaving your bedroom. “ See you soon, doll~!”

You fell on your bed with a big smile and hid your face into your pillow.

You didn’t know what happened but it made your feel better.

Tag List: lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie

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