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yueebby · 8 months

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indulge me? — gojo satoru

synopsis you and gojo go on an overnight mission and it goes wrong in every way

contents so. much. pining. (2.8k words of it!?), one bed trope, whipped!gojo, ooc gojo, completely self indulgent, a lot of cardiovascular talk, they’re first years in this!

notes first time i’ve written in AGES. sorry :3 ps this is a little snippet from a satosugu x reader series im thinking about starting. thoughts?

(edit: i wrote a part ii)

Gojo Satoru was born blessed. From birth and to death he will always be honored. It wasn't his fault that the Heavens delighted in him. So when Yaga had announced that he and you would be sharing an overnight mission to Kyushu, he nearly leapt in joy (lucky him)!

You, on the other hand, were less than thrilled to find out that you were going to be traveling alone with Gojo Satoru. For two whole days. It was a death sentence.

“Make sure to text me, so I know you're not dead.” Shoko looks between you and Gojo. Either your head will implode as a result of Gojo, or he is gonna be on the receiving end of your wrath. Shoko can’t wait to see which.

“Do take pictures, I heard the onsens there are incredible.” Suguru slyly adds. Satoru perks up at his comment. The two of them share a knowing look before Gojo speaks up.

“Wanna take a dip with me once we get there, [Name]?” He looks into your eyes, his lips are quirked upwards like he’s up to no good (which he is). “I promise I won’t take a peek!” He winks.

“Keep fantasizing, Gojo.”

“Oh I will.” He hums happily. The smile on his lips is kind of cute, you decide. Just a little.

— — — — — — —

Kurokawa, you come to find out is a very small town in Kyushu. So when people start to go missing, the entire town falls into shambles. Before your trip, Yaga had made it known the enemy you’d be facing.

“A common denominator of the missing persons is that they were all young women.” He had warned you and Gojo. “It’s an unidentified curse, but I trust that the two of you will be able to handle it.”

Three missing girls. All under the age of 25. Two of which were locals, one being a tourist.

The moment you arrive on the island of Kyushu, your guard is higher than ever. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of some horny curse,” He looks down at you as the two of you make your way down a small street to your ryokan. Kurokawa was a traditional town, its pride resting on the old culture causing it to be untouched by modern architecture.

Unamused by his nonchalant attitude, you decide to ignore his vulgar comment, “What grade curse do you think we’re up against?”

He makes a noise to show that he’s thinking. “Does it really matter? It’ll be no match for me either way.”

You roll your eyes, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, we still have to figure out what happened to the victims.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary, but okay.” Your snow haired peer dismisses. It makes you a bit envious that he doesn’t have to ever feel fear for his life. Must be nice.

The two of you arrived at your designated ryokan soon enough, it was a small town after all. Gojo leads the way with you following right after. You can’t discern any cursed energy in the building, but you still make a mental note to ask Gojo about it after you both are situated.

An elderly lady in an orange kimono stood behind the desk, smiling at you and you returned it back happily.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a young couple here.” She says. That’s right, with the recent disappearance of young girls, there would be a sudden decrease of tourism around this part of town. “You certainly are a beautiful match!”

You gratefully accept her compliment, “Thank you, but we’re not–”

“Thanks granny!” Gojo wraps a strong arm around your shoulder. “I don’t know how I even managed to win her over!” There’s a wide grin on his face that makes your eye twitch. Leave it to him to tell people the two of you were together. Not only that but he totally disrespected the old lady with his informal talk!

“Unhand me, you!” You forcefully whisper at him, while trying to unwrap yourself from his hold. His arm does not budge even as you try to push it off. What the hell is this boy eating? Gojo chuckles with the old lady while you struggle.

“My, the two of you remind me so much of my husband and I in the days of our youth,” She sighs dreamily. Her age must be interfering with her memory because there was nothing inherently romantic going on between you and Gojo. “How long will you be staying here?”

“Only one night,” Gojo decides that he has tormented you enough and lets you go. He slides her his card and she pulls out something from the old wooden counter she stands behind.

A single key.

Your eyes bug out. Gojo’s eyebrows raise. You laugh nervously, face feeling warmer than it was thirty seconds ago.

“There must have been a misunderstanding. We need two rooms, ma’am.” You hold up two fingers to emphasize your point.

The smile on the old woman’s face falls, “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Your jaw drops.

“Huh? Why not?” You press on further. Surely they could not have been booked out of all of their rooms. Tourism is at an all time low after the strange disappearances.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the strange disappearances in the area. It’s a miracle the two of you have even decided to stay here, which I am very grateful for. That is why I must repay you back by ensuring your safety. Otherwise I must ask you to leave and stay in the next town because I will not allow you to endanger yourself so carelessly.”

You blink. Neighboring town? That was hours away. The curse was here in Kurokawa. You can’t afford to jeopardize a mission just because of your own feelings.

Gojo’s hand is halfway to the key, but he waits for your approval. You sigh.

“It’s fine, we can do one. Thank you.” You bow your head. She smiled apologetically as she handed Gojo the key. Gojo, unbothered by the revelation, whistles happily as the lady leads the way to your suite.

— — — — — — —

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

Gojosatowu added getosugu, shoko.ieiri

Gojosatowu You wont believe it!!! shoko.ieiri What the hell is this gc And what the hell is Operation satoru x [name]? getosugu how come [name] isn’t in this? Gojosatowu Ladies, ladies, one question at a time please getosugu Expect a forehead flick for that comment shoko.ieiri Stfu and just answer the questions Gojosatowu alright alright [name] and i are sharing a room in kyushu!! i may come out of this mission a changed man. shoko.ieiri someone make sure [name] is still alive and well Gojosatowu I dont appreciate your lack of faith in me >:( shoko.ieiri Keep a six feet distance from her at all times perv Gojosatowu I might have to for my own sanity. What do you think she wears to bed? shoko.ieiri You disgust me sometimes getosugu Only sometimes? shoko.ieiri Let me correct myself. You disgust me. Gojosatowu Im feeling the love :(

“What are you giggling to yourself about?” You place a hand on your hips as you watch Gojo smile at his flip phone.

“Oh don’t you worry about it,” He closes it. Weird. “What’s the living situation?”

You sigh. “Despite its traditional arrangement, there is a bed.”

Gojo perks up. “Yeesh I’m glad! If I had to sleep on the floor my back would be all sore right on a mission. Y'know how annoying that is?”

You suck your teeth. “Allow me to rephrase myself. There is only one bed.”

There is an awful silence in the room, save for your erratically beating heart. Of course the old woman decided to place you in a couple’s suite.

“Heh.” Gojo chortles happily. “Wow, this must be a divine sign from God Himself. I mean, who are we to ignore this?”

“Don’t start,” You hold out an accusatory finger at him. “I’m gonna go request an extra futon.”

He pouts, “Don’t be like that, sharing a bed with me can’t be that bad.”

“I’m willing to bet otherwise.” You walk past him. The white haired boy watches you go like a sad puppy.

— — — — — — —

You took your time getting an extra futon, using it as an excuse to get all of the nervousness out of your system of sharing the same room as Gojo Satoru. Sharing a room with a boy was already bad enough, but Gojo? Your heart skipped a beat (out of nervousness, you insist!).

By the time you make it back to the room, the lights are out. You assume that Gojo decided to go to sleep early. You don’t blame him. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day of hunting for the curse rampaging Kurokawa.

The only light source in the room is coming from the bathroom. You sigh. The idiot must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Nonetheless, you were gonna go get unready either way so you make your way to the half open door.

On the sink is a complimentary toothbrush that you help yourself to. You apply some paste and–

There is a sound of something sliding shut from behind you. You look up at the mirror. Standing behind you was Gojo. Wet. And naked.

“Oh my gosh!” You spit out your toothpaste and ran out of the room. How did you fail to see that Gojo was in the restroom? You blame it on the sliding doors separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom. Oh my gosh. Your face feels like it’s on fire. He has a six pack. And why does his stupid hair look like that when it's wet? Your heart was beating at an abnormal rate. This is so inappropriate.

Shortly after your freakout, Gojo steps out of the bathroom. There was no way you could face him now.

“Aw, don't be so shy now. It’s not like this will be the last time you’ll see me like this.” Gojo stands in the doorway. There is a towel wrapped around his waist, still leaving him indecent in your eyes.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating Gojo! And lock the door when you’re in the restroom you creep!” You look anywhere but him.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault, was it? You were taking so long I thought you left me here alone.” You can practically hear him pouting. “Either way, you were the one checking me out.”

Your eyes widen, “I was not checking you out! Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t feel ashamed, this can all be yours,” He gestures down to his body.

“You freak.” you blanch.

He winks at you.

This was going to be a long night.

— — — — — — —

It takes you about half an hour to calm down from the bathroom catastrophe. By now, you’re situated in your futon while Gojo is tucked on the bed. If you had to guess, it’d be nearing midnight around now. You just need to close your eyes and get some sleep before your mission tomorrow.

Except you can’t sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, your mind betrays you and an image of Gojo post shower illustrates itself in your mind. And it doesn’t help that he sleeps shirtless. You seriously need your mind cleansed.

That wasn’t your only issue. The room was sub zero. Who knew traditional ryokans had such advanced air conditioning systems? All you could hear was the air conditioning machine overworking itself. You could even argue that it was colder than Shoko’s morgue. And your sleep shirt and shorts were doing little to help insulate you.

“Wanna come cuddle with me?” The last person you wanted to hear from breaks the silence. You pretend to be asleep. “I know you’re not asleep! My six eyes tell me that you’re shivering.” Busted.

“I am not cuddling with you.” You stare at the ceiling above you, arms crossed. How could he even propose such an idea? Has he no shame?

“Well I can’t face the old granny here if my girlfriend ends up dead by freezing!”

“I am not your girlfriend, Gojo. Nor will I die.”

“That’s not what she thinks. Plus we have a mission tomorrow, so I can’t have you getting sick on me now.”

“I’ll be fine, Gojo. Now go to sleep.”

“I run hot when I sleep, y’know. Let me be your personal heater.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning.

“I refuse.”

“Well I refuse your refusal.”

You blink.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Now c'mon,” He pats the spot next to him. “I’ll even make a wall in between us.”

You hear the bedsheets shuffle and you have to sit up to see that Gojo was stacking two pillows in the middle of the bed to prove his point. You’re nearly certain that the only thing you’ll be catching soon is a headache if you keep up with his antics. It was a tempting offer, one that you would surely accept if it wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Gojo, I—”

“...Please?” His voice is softer than you have ever heard it. It was unfair how Gojo was making it harder and harder to reject his offer.

A silent moment passes by.

“...Fine,” You reluctantly get up from your pathetic excuse of a futon. “But no funny business!” You warn him.

You see Gojo perk up from the bed. He looks at you with expectant eyes, “You got it!” He gives you a thumbs up.

Whatever. If Gojo knew what was best for him, he wouldn’t try anything. You take in a deep breath before turning to face the opposite direction of where Gojo laid.

“Good night [Name],” You hear Gojo whisper. You sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight Gojo.”

Eyes closed, you pray a silent prayer that everything will be fine for the remainder of the mission.

— — — — — — —

Ever since Gojo was young, his body has been used to getting little amounts of sleep. Unsurprisingly, that caused him to have a natural alarm. It was always annoying whenever he woke up at the crack of dawn on a day when he didn't need to, but luckily for him, today it proved to be a blessing. There was an unfamiliar warmth radiating onto his body. Satoru opens his eyes.

He thinks he feels all of his six eyes widen when he feels himself wrapped around another body.

There you were, in all your beauty, lying fast asleep. In his embrace. Soft snores were escaping your mouth and there were stray hairs in your face. Did he mention how beautiful you looked sleeping? He might have to ask Shoko about heart disease because of how fast his heart was beating.

Unfortunately for him, you also seemed to be drifting away from dreamland and back to reality. Your eyes flutter and your eyebrows furrow. Gojo takes this to his advantage and does the worst thing he can think of; pretend to be asleep.

When you wake up, your mind is still hazy from the good night’s rest you had gotten, but not hazy enough to realize that your body was tangled with another’s. And you’re pretty sure the pillow you had been laying on last night was not this hard. You try to delude yourself into believing that this is all a dream, but the effects of your sleep were fading.

It takes all the strength in you to summon the courage to open your eyes. To your horror, you were firmly wrapped in Gojo’s arms and your legs were intertwined.

“What the hell?” You pull yourself away from him. On the floor below the bed laid the two pillows that Gojo had set up as a makeshift wall. You stare at them utter shock.

“No, don’t go, I’ll freeze to death,” Gojo whines, miraculously waking up. You glare at him.

“Explain to me what just happened or I swear Gojo, I’m going to–” You try to threaten him, but you can’t seem to formulate anything.

Unlike you, Gojo looked unbothered by the sudden turn of events. He even looked pleased. There was a lopsided smile on his face as he sighed, “What can I say, I guess you subconsciously want me after all.”

"I do not—"

“But if I had to guess, I’d say the room got too cold and we most likely cuddled for warmth unconsciously.” He shrugs it off like it was no big deal. You note that his hair is tousled from the night before.

You leave the warm bed you and Gojo had made. His theory was probably true, meaning it was neither of your faults. You purse your lips.

“I suppose that makes sense. I apologize for overreacting, I guess I was under the impression that we had done something lewd last night.” With that comment, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up both your mind and body.

You don’t end up seeing how red Gojo’s face got. It was foreign to feel all the blood rising to his cheeks. He takes one of his hands to slap it over his eyes before chuckling to himself. Yeah, he definitely knows why he likes you.

All of a sudden Gojo feels like he’s on top of the world. For you, it was just a moment of weakness.

┊⋆｡˚. ੈ ┊

Extra notes:

gojo wished he and you got to go to the onsen together.

gojo also regretted not taking a photo of you sleeping soundly in his arms. it would’ve been his new wallpaper.

for the remainder of the trip, gojo was at an all time high, successfully locating and exorcising the curse in less than an hour.

#i’d like to think they had a meet ugly that made him fall head over heels for [name]#[name] also believes her sole purpose on this earth is to humble him hehe #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kt.writes.·:*¨༺#i feel like i didnt make gojo mean enough. maybe next time #remember spring days!au

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idyllicwillowtree · 2 months

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God Eddie, You're So In Love With Me.

Genre: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader, fem!reader, angst/fluff, hurt/eventual comfort, friends to lovers

Summary: Being in Hellfire, you’ve been exposed to your fair share of bullying. One day, Jason takes it a step too far.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: bullying, anaphylaxis, poisoning, no physical descriptions of Y/N so you don’t have to look like Dustin, reader wears makeup, reader uses she/her, reader has a peanut allergy, reader is called princess, swearing

Author’s note: I got this idea from an episode of Freaks and Geeks (which is an awesome show I totally recommend). Peanut allergies weren’t so common in the 80s so that’s why Jason is so ignorant and dismissive about it.

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, I was hibernating.

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Part 1:

Eddie proudly sauntered into first period with his head held high and a smirk on his lips. His mouth was watering in anticipation. He plopped himself down in the seat next to yours, wide eyes and a wicked grin plastered on his face, an eager hand open towards you.

“Wow Eddie. It’s 7:29, you got here with a minute to spare,” you said as you leaned over to grab the bite size Laffy Taffy from your backpack to place in Eddie’s hand. “I think this candy reward system is really working.”

“Of course it worked, it was your idea after all. But today’s a special day, I was definitely not going to not be here,” Eddie said with too much energy for this early in the morning. He stuffed the yellow taffy into his mouth and chewed it like a happy 5 year old, wiggling in his seat with excitement.

“Are you talking about the photo?”

“Yeah! Hellfire finally gets a spot in the yearbook. We shall finally leave our mark on this cesspool we call a school,” Eddie said through the glob of candy in his mouth. He swallowed the treat harshly as he got a good look at you, “you look great by the way.”

“Yeah?” you said shyly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You started fiddling with the hem of your Hellfire shirt, “I thought I’d go with a bit more eyeliner today.”

“Yeah, you did a great job princess.” With the excuse of admiring your eyeliner, Eddie was able to take a moment to study your features. Your gaze stayed on your hands, picking at a loose thread.

“God, Eddie. You’re so in love with me,” you said with a teasing smile.

Eddie barked out a laugh, dimples on full display as he tried not to let your words affect him too seriously.

“Great, the flirting freaks are back at it again.” Jason remarked from a few rows behind you. Both of you turned around in time to see Andy dramatically fake gagging.

Before you could hurl an insult back at them, Eddie took notice of what Jason was snacking on.

“Hey asshole, you can’t eat peanuts in class.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna stop me, Munson? You?” Jason said through a full mouth, spitting out chunks as he laughed obnoxiously with Andy.

You simply rolled your eyes at Jason, annoyed with the jocks and their willingness to tease and fight so early in the morning.

Eddie’s grip tightened on the back of his chair. His white knuckles caught your eye and you reached out to sooth him, hoping he wouldn’t start a fight he couldn’t finish. The second your hand landed on his, the tension in his shoulders deflated and the fire in his eyes was snuffed out as he sent you a reassuring smile.

Jason waved around his ziplock tauntingly, “Seriously freak, let’s see if you can actually take these from-”

“I’ll take those,” Mrs. O’Donnell said as she walked in behind Jason and snatched the bag. “Mr. Carver, you know you’re not allowed food in my class, let alone peanuts.”

“But coach said we have to protein-load before the game tonight,” Jason wined.

“Too bad. Some allergies can be very serious,” You shrunk in your seat as the other students turned to stare at you, knowing you were the one she was referring to. “You can get these back after class,” Mrs. O’Donnell said as she rounded the corner of her desk to address her students. “Now, everyone, please open your textbooks to chapter six.”

You, being the diligent student you were, immediately followed orders. Eddie on the other hand didn’t even remember to bring his book bag to school, but at least he got his candy.

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

“I’m serious guys, I might have a crush on Mrs. O’Donnell now,” Eddie said to his bandmates as they sat in their unofficial assigned seats in the cafeteria.

“Just because an older female authority figure agreed with you and shut down Carver, doesn’t mean you should crush on your teacher dude,” Gareth said, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

“Besides, you already have a crush,” Jeff added with a teasing smile, the metal on his teeth catching the fluorescent lights.

“Are you guys talking about my sister?” Dustin said while throwing his lunch tray on the table, taking a seat next to Eddie. The rest of his sheep following close behind.

“No-”

“Yes,” all three of the older Hellfire members said in unison.

Eddie shot them a look that would’ve shut them up if the metalhead’s pale cheeks weren’t tinted pink.

“Gross,” Dustin added.

Mike’s brows did their signature furrow under his dark bangs, “I don’t get it, why doesn’t he just ask her out?” he said, purposefully ignoring Eddie’s presence at the table.

“GROSS,” Dustin repeated, hoping the subject would change.

Eddie was right there with him, picking up a pretzel and hurling it at Mike’s head, “I’d rather not share the complexities of the friendship-to-relationship pipeline with a baby freshman. And I. Don’t. Like. Her.” He growled, punctuating each word with a pretzel.

The metalhead’s angry scowl melted off his face at the sound of your laugh echoing through the high ceilings of the cafeteria. You were standing near the entrance with your Wonder Woman lunchbox in tow, tilting your head back as you chuckled at something Robin Buckley told you.

That was until Jason and his entourage of goons followed him in.

He had that damn bag of peanuts in his hand, swinging it around mockingly. Eddie watched as you became tense, eyes wide and glossy. You are practically hiding behind a fuming Robin.

Before the blonde could hurl her trumpet case at the jocks, Eddie stepped up behind you both, placing a ring clad hand gently on the small of your back to let you know he was there.

With his hand grounding you, you finally found your voice, “seriously Jason, if I come into contact with a peanut I could die.”

“Oh come on,” Jason said through a chuckle, “you’re that much of a freak that a little peanut is enough to kill you? I think you might be overreacting just a little.”

“Actually,” Dustin said as he came over to stand next to Eddie, “Anaphylaxis is incredibly dangerous. Allergic reactions to the proteins found in peanuts are cause by immunoglobulin E antibodies and can trigger severe inflammation and-”

“Dude, even her brother is a fucking dork,” Andy spat.

“Hey, don't talk to him like that,” Eddie said, stepping forward. You have always admired his fierce determination when defending your brother and the other freshmen. It’s part of what drew you to him in the first place. But this time there was no snarky comeback to Jason’s bullying. The severity of the situation on top of the jocks’ disregard for your safety was just pissing him off, making him uncharacteristically no-nonsense.

The group of letterman jackets erupted in a chorus of ‘oooohs’. The leader just licked his lips, eyeing Eddie before smirking at you.

"You know, you might be pretty if you actually tried."

It doesn’t have the effect on you that Jason had hoped, you could care less if he thought you were pretty. But before your athletically inexperienced friends could take on the basketball team, you plastered on your best fake smile.

“Thanks Jason, see you guys later,” you said as you pulled your friends away leaving him confused and unsatisfied by your reaction.

“What the hell, you’re just going to let him talk to you like that?” your brother protested.

“He’s never going to change, Dustin. I might as well play into it since he’s just trying to get a rise out of us.”

You wave bye to Robin as she went to sit with her band friends, all of them decked out in their extravagant green and yellow uniforms. Eddie slid Dustin’s tray away from the spot next to him so you could set your lunchbox there and sit at his left hand side. Dustin was muttering something about losing his seat but still scooched down, knowing there was no use in fighting it. Eddie always had you right next to him.

The next few minutes of lunch went by rather smoothly. Groups of students were taken out sporadically to go to the photo room and get their yearbook club photo taken with Nancy. Occasionally, you’d catch Jason sending you angry glares but you just ignored him in favor of listening to your fellow Hellfire members. They were rambunctiously throwing out theories about tonight's campaign while Eddie just sat there with his version of a poker face, not willing to spoil anything with a teasing grin plastered to his mouth.

His eyes connected with yours, feeling you staring at him. The moment he looked at you you bashfully lowered your eyes to the cup of applesauce you were stirring around. Eddie kept his gaze on you until Nancy walked up behind him.

“Alright Hellfire, you’re up,” Nancy said with a smile.

This was the first year Hellfire club was getting any sort of recognition in the yearbook. Previously, the teachers and students didn’t want to draw any more eyes to the alleged cult and their leader. Now that Nancy worked for the school, she played a big part in securing a photo for her brother’s club in the yearbook. Even though Eddie never liked conforming to frivolous High School expectations, he still felt honored. It was his last year after all (hopefully) and he wanted to make his mark.

You and the rest of the Hellfire members left your things at the lunch table and walked out of the cafeteria for the yearbook room down the hall. Your open applesauce was forgotten about as you followed Eddie out.

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

Your shoulders were still buzzing after taking the photo. Eddie had thrown his leather clad arm around you, pulling you closer to him, while his other hand did the sign of the horns. The smell of his cologne and the texture of his battle vest overwhelmed you so much you hoped it didn’t show in the photo. Although, the smirk Nancy sent you tells you it might have.

You and the rest of Hellfire sat back down in your original seats, besides your leader. As expected, Eddie had a lot of things to say in honor of your club getting recognized so he opted to stay standing.

“Hear ye, hear ye! Rejoice, for this day shall be etched in the annals of history as a testament to our unwavering spirit and valor!”

Going back to your lunch, you scoop up the velvety applesauce to resume eating. Expecting the familiar taste of sweet and tart, you flinched at the salty crunch and swallowed it on instinct.

“Let it be known that we have weathered the raging storm of schoolyard bullies, and emerged victorious! Our banners flying high, unfurled in the winds of destiny,” Eddie continued, not noticing your trepidation.

You frowned at the tickle in your throat that only continued to build as you tried coughing discreetly. The rest of the boys grinned, believing this was your way of hinting at Eddie to wrap up his speech.

“Let us raise our voices in jubilation, for today, we have proven that nothing is insurmountable to those who believe in their cause!” Eddie looked to you, hoping to see you looking up at him and smiling that way you do whenever he uses his renaissance voice. Instead he met your panicked eyes.

“Hey Henderson,” Jason called from across the cafeteria. “What happens now? Should we call an ambulance?” Andy shoved at his shoulder playfully and chortled alongside Jason.

Panic gripped you as you connected the dots.

“Yeah,” you wheezed, “call an ambulance.”

Part 2

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spirantization · 5 months

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"Wild Blue Yonder" dealt with some of the emotional fallout of the Flux, so I want to rewind a bit and look at what that means for the Doctor.

I know that the Timeless Child and the Flux are contentious topics. I'm not here to argue either way. But now those storylines have decisively not been retconned, and with both of these fresh in my memory, I feel the need to offer some context for anyone who may not have seen it, and to recontextualize it for myself and anyone who has.

NotDonna: You don't know where you're from. The Doctor: How do you know that? How does anyone know? How does Donna know?

In "The Timeless Children", we find out that the Doctor was discovered as a child alone under a wormhole, and adopted by a woman named Tecteun. There was an accident where the Doctor fell from a cliff and regenerated, and subsequently Tecteun performed "experiments" on them to try to understand regeneration. The show minces words about this but she killed a child a whole bunch of times is what happened. Her experiments created the Time Lords and allow them to engineer their regeneration properties. The Doctor has no memory of any of this, and only finds out via the Master and information stored in the Time Lord Matrix.

The Doctor, predictably, doesn't tell anyone about this revelation. She makes a speech to the Master about how this makes her more, we get a single shot of her looking a bit tired in the TARDIS, then she immediately gets thrown in prison.

Ultimately, the Doctor doesn't know where they're from or who their parents are. And the very fact that they're not from Gallifrey is information that no one in the universe should have. Everyone who knew is now dead.

NotDonna: I saw it in your head. The Flux. The Doctor: It destroyed half the universe because of me. We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation which I devastated, so yes I keep running, of course I do! How am I supposed to look back on that? NotDonna: It wasn't your fault! The Doctor: I know!

A fun fact about the Flux is that the Doctor did not cause it. So why does he blame himself? Because the person who caused the Flux was Tecteun.

The reason why Tecteun wanted to destroy the universe is because the Doctor interfered with things too much. Too much morality. Too inspirational to people. She calls them a virus. So her solution to the problem of the Doctor is to destroy the universe, with the Doctor inside, and take her ship to a different universe to start fresh. She also was the one to steal all the Doctor's memories of previous lives in the first place. She's dismissive and patronizing and clearly does not care about the Doctor on an emotional level at all. Tecteun is a piece of work, and the implications of her actions and how they've shaped the Doctor have the potential to go deep.

Thirteen doesn't get too much of a chance to react to any of this, because there is plot going on. And shortly after they reunite, Tecteun gets killed by a different villain. So there was no emotional closure in the moment, and there's now no possibility for the Doctor to make sense of her actions. The Doctor does not tell any of her friends about any of these events. She keeps promising to tell Yaz but does not.

"Wild Blue Yonder" is the first time we, as the audience, hear the Doctor discuss the Flux. And their perception of events is skewed at best. The Flux wasn't caused because the Doctor made a mistake and a lot of people were killed, which is what you can argue for many other situations. The Flux and the devastation of the universe was caused by their mother, who promptly turned around and told them it was their fault for being such an interfering nuisance. We know that the Doctor is often an unreliable narrator, but this is beyond that. These are the words of an abused child who has internalized the narrative that the abuse was their fault.

So the Doctor being able to talk about this with Donna, who has seen what happened, who knows him, and tells him that it's not his fault — it means so much to him. He wants it to be her so badly. And then NotDonna laughs in his face. You can see the devastation. He thinks for one moment that he can finally talk about this with his best friend, and it's snatched away from him. He gives himself a moment to break down in the corridor, and then you can see the walls rebuilding as he suppresses it all again.

At the very end of the episode, back in the TARDIS, he's trying very very hard to be nonchalant. I'm curious. The NotDonna could remember all these things that happened to me while we were apart. Can you? Just wondering. Things happened, but I'll be fine. In a million years. It's not a joke.

He wants so badly to be able to talk about this. You can see it in all the lines of his body language. He's keeping himself together but is prepared to fall apart in an instant. He doesn't want to actually tell anyone, but if Donna just magically knew already, and could tell him it wasn't his fault — well, that would make the world of difference. But she doesn't know, and he can't bring himself to tell her. And so the cycle continues.

#doctor who #dw spoilers #wild blue yonder #the flux

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r0ttenhearts · 11 months

Text

Unsaid Words

husband!tighnari x wife!reader

angst, no comfort, established relationship

“archons, (y/n). how careless could you be?”

tighnari roughly grabbed your arm, dabbing a cloth doused in rubbing alcohol as he pressed down on your wound. you had gone out to the forest that morning to look for more flowers to press in your book, only to find yourself being attacked by some fungi and getting your arm scratched in the process. luckily tighnari was on his rounds in that area, but that didn’t make his frustration with you any lesser.

he kissed his teeth as he wrapped your arm in a bandage, glaring at your reddened skin.

“what was so important for you to go and get yourself hurt for? please, enlighten me (y/n).”

you couldn’t help but look at your lap in shame. it hadn’t been the first time something like this had happened with tighnari coming to your rescue. it wasn’t like you couldn’t fend for yourself, you’d just find yourself in the thick of the fungi and you alone were not enough to clear it.

“for my book..” you mumbled, pointing to a brown leather book that sat on the table not too far from you. tighnari stood up without a word, going over to said book and began tearing page after page out. the bright, colorful flowers you had spent years pressing and collecting over several nations now laid on the floor, petals shredded into small colorful bits. something you had started as a small hobby with your now deceased friend, completely gone in a matter of minutes.

“there. now you have no reason to put yourself in danger. i mean, come on (y/n). your silly book of flowers? couldn’t you just ask collei to get you some?”

tears blurred your vision, ignoring him as you couldn’t help but stare at your years worth of collecting now on the floor.

“you had no right to do that..” you whispered, your hands coming up to your face as you quickly wiped away your tears. after each harsh wipe of your eyes more tears would stream down your face.

tighnari’s gloved hand gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him.

“i do actually. matter of fact i’ll do anything to keep you safe. even if it means taking away things that put you in danger.”

“i’ve spent years collecting all of that tighnari! you have no idea what you’ve done. i’ll never, never forgive you for this.”

“archons, if i knew i’d have married such a boneheaded girl i wouldn’t have married you.”

your eyes widened, your now glossy eyes staring into his. “do you mean that?”

“yes, yes i do. maybe i should’ve gone for a ranger instead of some hobbyist like yourself.” he spoke without thinking.

your sadness quickly turning to anger, tearing his hand from your face. you didn’t bother saying a word to him, leaving the house without a word as he stared at your form as you left, dismissing it as another one of your childish outbursts.

“the nerve of that girl..”

he scoffs as he packs up the first aid kit. his ears twitch in annoyance as he replays the previous conversation. his tail drooping as he remembers your teary eyes. “fuck..”

he sets out to the city, going to the market as he picks up your favorite dessert from a stall. he carries it tenderly in the crook of his arm, remembering your smile when he’d previously given you the sweetly packaged dessert. his guilt kept him at home, waiting at the table for you to return.

but you wouldn’t.

you’d long boarded on a ship that belonged to captain beidou, heading to inazuma. if he was so sure that he didn’t want you as his forever partner, you’d just make it your new “hobby” to explore the nations once again, getting back what was so cruely taken from you.

tighnari stood from the table, his anxiety coursing through his veins as he ran through the city, asking your friends if they knew where you were.

“have you seen (y/n)? she hasn’t come home yet?”

“has (y/n) come by here?”

“have you seen (y/n)?”

‘please .. please just tell me where you’ve gone..’

‘(y/n).. come back to me..’

tighnari laid curled up in a ball alone that night, hugging your pillow as he tried to imprint your scent into his memory. all he felt was guilt in his stomach, his ears flatting on his head as silent tears slipped down his cheeks.

“i have so many things to say to you (y/n).. this ring holds so many unsaid words i want to say to you so very badly..

please.. come back to me.”

taglist: @samarill @darthvada

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #tighnari angst #tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari x reader angst

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demcgorgons · 1 year

Text

something about you

pairing(s): xavier thorpe x fem!reader

wc: 1.6k

summary: xavier has been missing all day and reader is worried. she finds him and he realizes that even when he wants to be alone, he doesn’t want her to leave.

warnings: reader is shorter than xavier. other than that, none! slightly unedited

something’s wrong. xavier has never gone this long without speaking to you. to be fair, it was only the second class of the day, and the two of you had texted the night before, but he usually sent a good morning text and walked you to your first two periods, as those were the only classes you didn’t share. it was the first time since your little tradition started, and you hadn’t realized how much you relied on his presence in the morning. you checked your phone for the thousandth time, hoping he had texted you, and you somehow didn’t see it.

time ticked by slowly, and you couldn’t control your leg as it bounced up and down. when your teacher dismissed you, you flew to your third period, anxiously awaiting the tall boy who sat next to you. your worry grew when xavier was a no show. you didn’t see him at lunch. normally, you sat with xavier, who liked to be alone, if he wasn’t with you. today, you sat with enid, yoko, bianca, and her siren crew.

“hey, guys,” you smiled as you sat down. everyone politely greeted you, and enid scooched over so you’d have a bit more elbow room. “have any of you seen xavier?” you asked, looking around the table.

“he’s your best friend,” bianca pointed out. “shouldn’t you be the one to know that?” you squirmed a little at her words, worry bubbling in your stomach.

“he hasn’t texted me all day, and he wasn’t in class either,” you confessed. “i haven't had time to check his dorm since it’s on the other side of campus.”

enid squeezed your hand, and gave you a comforting smile. “i’m sure he’s fine. maybe he’s just not feeling well.” you nodded, and tried to focus on your lunch. in botany, thornhill scolded you multiple times for not paying attention and being on your phone in class. you were texting xavier, asking if he was okay and if you did anything wrong. no response.

the second that you were dismissed from your last class, you took off running to xavier’s dorm. you pushed past many people, subjecting yourself to dirty looks and shouted curses behind your back. reaching his room, you banged on the door loudly. no answer. you hesitantly twisted the doorknob, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. “that’s not safe at all, xav,” you muttered to yourself as you let yourself in. the room was empty, with half of the room being devoid of any sign that someone was there. that was rowan’s die, before he left. xavier’s bed was cold, as if he hadn’t been there all day. that left just one option: he was in his shed. he had to be.

you left your best friend’s dorm in a rush, slamming the door behind you. you winced at the noise, and gave an awkward smile to two werewolves who shot you nasty glares. as you walked into the woods, you prayed that xavier wasn’t mad at you, and your mind raced as you recalled the conversations you’d had over the past few days, trying to remember if you had somehow upset him and not realized it. after about ten minutes of walking, you came upon xavier’s shed. you’d only been in it a few times, as you respected his space. you saw the lights through the windows on the door. you knocked on the door.

xavier opened the door, and your heart leaped. you hadn’t seen him all day, and you missed him so much. “hey,” you smiled softly. you knew something was wrong. his eyes didn’t have his usual shine, and he looked so exhausted. he smiled back at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. xavier opened the door wider and wordlessly let you in. with one glance around the shed, you knew he’d been in here all day. crumpled balls of paper were strewn around the floor, his paintbrushes scattered around the table, along with half finished paintings leaning against the walls. xaviers face and hands were flecked with paint, and he just looked so melancholy. xavier had closed the shed door and come to stand beside you as you took in the messy state of the shed. you heard the soft voices of the neighborhood playing through his phone’s speakers. you gathered him up in a tight hug, which he returned, to your delight. the minute that his arms wrapped around you, you let out a small sigh and pulled him closer to you.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice raspy from not using it all day.

you huffed in amusement, finally letting go and looking into his eyes. “you’re asking me if i’m okay?” xav shrugged, the ghost of a real smile lingering on his lips. “xav, what’s going on? you’ve been MIA all day. did i do something to upset you, or…?”

he shook his head, taking a seat in his chair. “no, y/n, it’s not you. it’s just… the nightmares started again. last night, it was so bad i just–” he cut himself off and you hugged him again, slotting yourself in between his legs and pulling him close to you. “i took today off because i wasn’t sure if i could keep this one in. sorry for not texting you, i turned my phone off for most of the day. turned it back on like twenty minutes ago because i couldn’t stand the silence anymore.”

“wanna tell me what it was about?�� you asked softly. “if not, that’s okay, but it’s better to not keep things bottled up inside of you.” he pulled himself out of your clutch, then pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck. you told yourself that he was just seeking comfort from his best friend, but you couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach and the way your hands became a little shaky.

“it was the monster again,” he began. “i keep seeing it, and it’s always the same dream. the monster gets one person. he tears them apart, and there’s nothing i can do to save them. i keep seeing the light fade from their eyes right in front of me, and every time, i wake up nearly screaming.” he lets out a shaky breath.

“who is the person you’re dreaming about?” you ask.

there’s a few moments of silence before he whispers the word “you”. your heart nearly breaks in two for him. you knew how much he loved you, probably about the same that you loved him. you couldn’t imagine having these horrible, recurring dreams about xavier.

“i’m so sorry,” you said. “want me to help you try and get your mind off of it?” he nods, and you jump up, immediately missing the feeling of his hands on your waist. xavier returned to his place in front of a canvas that was turned away from you. you grabbed an easel propped up in a corner and a blank canvas. xavier pushed some paint and paintbrushes towards you. you leaned over to grab his phone and turn the music up all the way. a chase atlantic song was playing. xavier seemed to be in another world, eyebrows knit tightly as he used deliberate strokes of his brush. every now and then, he’d look up at you in concentration and go back to his painting. you wondered what he was drawing.

you, on the other hand, were more focused on the music being played. you had a few strokes on your canvas of what kind of looked like a mountain range landscape. as the music switched, the song ‘something about you’ by eyedress came on. “i love this song!” you cheered. xavier looked up and grinned at you.

you began to theatrically sing along to the song, using your paintbrush as a microphone, and dancing along to the music. “she looks just like a dream,” you sang. “the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen..”

xavier laughed at your dancing, and you beamed, happy to see him happy again. “i love you,” he said, then looked startled at what just came out of his mouth.

“i love you too, xav,” you said, slightly out of breath from singing and dancing. you moved to return to your mountain range, but his voice stopped you.

“no, i-i love you.” he paused, looking nervous. your heart leaped in your chest as you dared to hope that meant what you wanted it to. you could feel it begin to beat faster as xavier put his brush down and moved to stand in front of you. “no one’s ever cared about me this much to check in on me and stay until i feel better. you mean so much to me and i love every second i spend with you. i’m sorry if this ruins everything we have, but…” his voices drops to almost a whisper, and he reaches up to cup your face in his hands. “i love you.”

instead of answering, you stand on your toes to press your lips to his, and he kisses you back immediately. your mouths moved in sync as your hands weave into his hair, and he pulls you impossibly closer to him. after what felt like a million years, you pulled away, trying to catch your breath. “you should’ve done that a long time ago,” you said, and xavier rolled his eyes, smiling.

“whatever,” he said, kissing you again. “so, can we be more than best friends?”

you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. “thought you’d never ask.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thrope imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier x y/n #xavier thorpe x y/n #wednesday imagine #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe fic #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe x you

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photmath · 6 months

Text

Wrong Impressions | Trent Alexander-Arnold (Part Two)

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader

PART ONE written by the lovely @karotland, would strongly recommend reading that first.

Summary: Stoic, serious Trent walks around campus with murder on his face and is quite the no-nonsense class partner, frustrating you with his anti-social antics. Flustered and feeling guilty after he finds out about how you insulted him, you seek him out at a house party to apologize only to find a whole new Trent, leaving you with a lot of questions.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), suggestive and implied, drinking, cursing

Note: Huge thank you to my girl Karo for letting me write a second part, ilysm and I hope I didn't disappoint (plz lie) <33. This was quite fun, can't believe I agreed to it but I'm so glad I did in the end! Kk love you bunches bye.

After finding Maddie back up on the balcony, you plopped down hard onto the seat next to her. She gave you an all-knowing look, lips tugging into a smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“You have a look,” her eyes narrowed as she tried to piece together the pieces. “Did you talk to Trent?”

“Yes,” you reply matter of factly, straightening up your posture. “And you were wrong, turns out we won’t be the 0.1% exception because he’s going to talk to me starting Monday.” You wiggled your hips in the chair as you gave her a satisfied smile. However, instead of congratulating you for not being a part of this ‘mathematical wonder,’ she gave you a displeased look.

“You do realize what today is?”

“Friday?”

“You won’t talk to Trent until Monday?” she raises her brows, “even though you’re in his house now? And he’s—” she peers over the balcony, “—right down there? Actually, they’re making their way over here.”

You rose to the balls of your feet immediately, looking down at the raucous boys and Angela from over the balcony. There you saw Trent once again laughing at something Jude said with his arm slung over him as if he’d escape from underneath him.

“How am I supposed to make out with Jude if you’re going to be clinging onto me all night?”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down in the chair with a huff, “It’s not like I’ll be alone. I can chat with the others.” You knew Maddie was only joking, having been split up from her numerous times at other parties.

“And Trent?”

“And Trent.”

“Good,” Maddie smiles, finally satisfied with your answer. But she isn’t done yet, her lips curling up into another grin, “I saw that earlier.”

“Saw what?”

“The look you gave him.”

You didn’t like how vague she was because you looked at Trent now a couple of times throughout the night, but you didn’t think your facial expressions were very obvious.

Her gum smacked loudly as she blew out a bubble, “Were you jealous?”

“No,” you crossed your arms.

“Oh come on, you see him talking to Angela and you go all quiet and suddenly say, ‘I’ll be back.’ And then off you go, stomping until you get to him.”

“I wasn’t stomping,” you laughed, rubbing the nervousness out of your arms. Why did Maddie’s words have this effect on you? Sure you were jealous, but you were jealous because Trent never once gave you that ounce of socialization.

Maddie shook her head once before dismissing the conversation, “Do you want to go inside? I’m getting a bit cold.”

You nod hastily, glad the attention is drawn away from you because god how loud was Maddie talking? Anne seemed to still be preoccupied with the others talking about another ex from her past, but noise traveled between floors it seems and you learned just how easily Trent could overhear conversations.

Sliding back inside, the purple lights and booming music greet you once again. Instinctively, you scan the kitchen and living room for a place for you to stand and chat with friends but your eyes connect with Trent’s as the front door opens. His smile is faint but quickly interrupted once Jude tumbles in from behind him and beelines towards the kitchen where a teammate of his is pouring shots.

Trent, on the other hand, takes his time. He holds the door open for the rest of them to come inside and once Angela comes in last, she perks her head up at him. Trent looks down at her quizzically and whispers something into her ear, making her laugh while he just wears a smirk. You feel the little green monster again, like a gear wanting to turn but a rock was wedged in the middle of it so now it’s grinding loudly in your ears.

You shake off the feeling, turning completely around and facing the direction of the kitchen. Jude downs the shot and then immediately hands one to Maddie—who somehow slipped out of your grip and found her way towards him. She throws her head back once she grabs it from him. You stay mingling around the kitchen, chatting with friends and meeting the ones you don’t recognize.

Feeling a hand brush up on your arm, you turn around to see Trent giving you a soft smile as he moves behind you. You return the friendly smile back, but you aren’t familiar with the feeling that washes over you once he continues to walk past you. Disappointment perhaps? It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought he was coming up to you to chat. So watching him now practically steal Jude away from Maddie, you’re left a tad bit annoyed.

Just as you’re about to make your way out of the kitchen and into the living room where a few others are dancing, a calloused but warm hand wraps around your wrist and stops you. He carries a bottle while staring at you, gesturing to Jude and Maddie, “Do you want to take a shot?”

You briefly glance back at the two, their heads nodding eagerly as they await your answer. Well, why not. You concede, “Just one.”

Trent smirks, lining up four glasses and then pouring what you assume is vodka although you can’t make out the title on the bottle. The four of you down the shot at the same time, you cringing at the burn that goes zipping down your throat. But then you and Maddie holler the moment you two recognize the song that starts playing through the speakers. She reaches out for your hand to dance with her in the small space between the counters and island of the kitchen.

You don’t notice Trent’s lingering gaze on you, or the smile that can’t leave his face as he watches you throw your hands up in the air as if you didn’t care who watched.

An hour into more chatting and dancing, you found yourself desperately searching for an open restroom because seriously who was taking so long in the guest restroom? Trent nurses a red cup to his lips as you find him, standing on your tippy toes to ask, “Is there another restroom that I can use?”

Trent glances at the restroom across the hall and then motions his head upstairs. He speaks but his words are inaudible from the speaker being right next to the both of you. You scrunch up your face and tilt your head and for a brief second, he seems amused. He leans down to yell into your ear, “Follow me!”

The brush of his lips against your ears sends you in a daze. Your feet stay glued on the floor until he passes you, holding out his hand for you to follow him. And his hand. It feels like it’s on fire as he intertwines your fingers tightly with his. He gives your hand a squeeze, maybe to make the grip tighter but you don’t know. He weaves you through the mass of sweating and dancing bodies until he gets to the stairs, you both walking up still hand in hand even though no one was in the way to separate you. The corridor is dark as he stops to open a bedroom door, finally releasing your hand gently as he turns on the light.

You recognize it immediately as his bedroom, the few photos that line his dresser and the same bookbag and football bag that he carried on the floor next to it. His green sheets are neatly tucked into his bed frame, his room overall very clean for a guy.

“You can just use mine,” he points to the door across his bedroom.

“Thank you so much, Trent,” you sigh. You quickly rush into the restroom and almost freeze again at how clean it is. Seriously there was no way his restroom was one wink cleaner than yours.

Once you finish, you expect the room to be empty but Trent is still there standing against the doorframe. A couple beads of sweat line his forehead as he swipes them, then looking up at you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “I’m okay.”

“The weather,” he indulges, “getting cold, hmm?”

You break into a laugh, feeling a little nervous to have all his attention in his bedroom after using his restroom. You stand a couple of steps in front of him, peering up at him, “It is, didn’t expect the temperature to drop so suddenly in the past hour.”

“Bummer,” he mentions. “I wanted to sit on the balcony.”

Gosh, his eyes are really brown.

Trent bursts into an abrupt laugh, his head falling forward and dimples deep into his cheeks as he peers up at you. You feel a little giddy getting this sudden reaction at him, chuckling back at him despite your heart swelling at the way he’s looking at you.

“Thank you, darling, for noticing the color of my eyes.”

You slap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide as your cheeks rush with heat, “I said that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Oh my god—”

“It’s okay,” Trent muses, he picks up his head and leans it against the doorframe. Chewing the gum he suddenly has in his mouth, you’re memorized by the way his jaw clenches over and over again. Embarrassment is now mixing with another feeling as Trent continues to look at you through his hooded eyelids. Your cheeks feel a little flushed, and you knew your mouth was not going to want to stay closed tonight if he were to continue. Because gosh, the urge to impulsively speak never felt so strong until now.

You brush off whatever dust was on your shorts, deciding to be strong, “We should head back.”

He nods, turning off the light and closing the door. You make it downstairs faster than he does in order to lose yourself in the crowd. Not like Trent would miss you, he had his eyes on you the moment he walked back into his house.

You don’t even realize you’re searching for Maddie until your phone pings, Maddie’s message reads that they’re on the balcony getting some air with some friends. As you make your way to the balcony door, you internally groan knowing you’d be a little cold but there was still some alcohol running through you that could keep you somewhat warm.

You seem to be interrupting a conversation as you sit down on one of the couches, Anne screaming at you to agree, “Tell Jude I’m not lying.”

Jude’s arm is slung over Maddie as he laughs loudly, his head falling onto her shoulder. You chuckle, “She isn’t lying.”

You fall into conversation quickly among them, only glancing up once Trent walks out. He shuts the door behind him and sits down in the only empty space next to you, spreading his legs and arms out wide as he settles in.

“Get too hot in there for you?” you question.

He nods, “Music’s buzzin’ the ears.”

You don’t mean to stare at him, but the chain necklace he wears sitting against his already tight white tee leaves little to the imagination and makes you give him a double take. He looked so good underneath this one dim light out on the balcony. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it wasn’t, but the desire to be closer to him consumed you. However, you fought it, not wanting to embarrass yourself more.

Not realizing the conversation stirred onto you, you give the others a puzzled look as they turn towards you.

“Yeah, I don’t ever see you with a man,” Anne agrees. Your eyebrows furrow immediately, feeling breathless as you realize where the conversation is going. “We all thought Johnny would be endgame, you know?”

“Aww, do you remember when he planned out that ‘date-but-not-a-date’ for her and then he had to cancel because he got a flat tire?” Maddie asks, snickering. “It was so romantic. A picnic underneath the stars, did you guys ever reschedule?”

You wanted to dig yourself into a hole and never show face again. In front of Trent? This was quite possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of your life and it was astonishing at just how many moments from tonight made that list.

It takes you everything to not look at Trent’s reaction but he stays quiet. You find the courage to say, “We actually did.”

“You two were so cute,” Maddie gushes.

Jude jumps up from his seat, “I fuckin’ love this song!” The speaker from inside the house played a very dulled-out song but it was still a bit distinguishable. And suddenly you were thankful for the existence of Jude Bellingham, especially the loud, always-interrupting person he was when he was drunk. He starts dancing alone, his cup still in his hand as he looks towards you, “Come on, dance with me.”

You get up quickly, wanting the comments about Johnny to stop before they get any deeper. Your hand stays intertwined with one of Jude’s as he dances off-beat. He was too drunk to find it or even care about it, you going along with him. The girls cheer out loud for the both of you, and you don’t even want to look at Trent to figure out what he’s thinking about.

And you definitely don’t want to care about what Trent is thinking about when the door opens and Angela comes stumbling out. She dances with the two of you for a few seconds before plopping down beside Trent, in the very seat you were in just seconds before. You can’t help it, you glance in his direction and his eyes are already on yours, stoic but glimmering.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Jude whispers loudly in your ear. You’re almost sure that Trent heard him, but you can’t even think about it because Jude’s body stumbles forward. You try to grip onto his shoulder to steer him upright but his cup goes flying in between the two of you, spilling dramatically on both of your chests.

Gosh, how full was his cup to drench your entire blouse?

“Jude,” you groan.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly. He lets go and plops down on the couch, groaning as he holds his head in his hands. Looking down at your blue blouse, you notice just how thin the material of it is and quickly shield your exposed chest with your arm. The girls' eyes widen as they turn looking for something to cover you with. Before you can even think, Trent stands up and brushes your arm and back, motioning you towards the door.

“I—”

“I can give you my jacket.”

You nod, ignoring Angela’s sulking, relieved to get some kind of solution for your problem. Trent intertwines your hands together and leads you to his room—again. His thumb brushing against the back of your hand doesn’t go unnoticed by you, you even look down at where they conjoined. The swooning feeling in your chest comes back.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mutter as you finally reach his bedroom, your arm still splayed across your chest as he closes his door.

He chuckles, “Well Angela does exist so…”

“Trent!” you scold. He digs through his closet and pulls down a dark red hoodie. He slips off the hanger and hands it to you.

“I can um—dry your clothes if you’d like.”

You cringe, “That’s even more mortifying.”

Trent shrugs, “I can be discreet, darling. Plus, why are you suddenly shy after you were practically spitting out everything that was on your mind earlier?”

You snatch the hoodie from his hand, “Earlier my nipples weren’t peeking out of my shirt, Trent.”

He smirks, stifling a chuckle out of his mouth and nodding his head, “I guess that’s true.”

You smack his shoulder with his hoodie and go into his restroom. Only in there did you notice just how ridiculous you looked with the giant stain on your blouse that drenched you. You attempt to squirm out of the shirt but only then do you remember about the stupid few buttons on the back of the shirt. There was no way you were going to be able to twist the shirt without popping a few strands. You grumble, knowing you needed Trent’s help.

“Trent?” you call out softly. There’s some rustling on the other end of the door before he hums out a response. “Do you mind unbuttoning my shirt?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” There was no other way to hold the shirt up without it being on the verge of completely falling once those buttons unclasped. You held onto it for dear life as Trent opened the door hesitantly.

Trent’s fingers tentatively grab a hold of the first button. His fingers feel too big to maneuver such a tiny button out of its threaded loop. The lack of air in the restroom doesn’t seem to help either. He felt like he was choking, as if he was holding onto his breath as he focused on the task and not your bare back.

“Almost done?” you ask, trying to control your shuddering breath. You hoped your back wasn’t a replica of your arms that were now clad in goosebumps.

“I can’t even get the first button,” he spat. His voice was curt, almost agitated that it made you grow a little impatient because he had been trying for a while now. But his voice also seemed to resonate in your ear drums, reverberating back and forth because of how close he was to you. The warmth of the room felt palpable. “My fingers are too big.”

“Just focus harder,” you grit, getting hot.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

You let out a shaky sigh, it catches Trent’s attention and he tries to shudder it away but it only makes his hands shake even more. He rests his palms against your back and it makes you squirm, not expecting the feeling of his hands on your skin.

“Sorry,” he rasps, finally getting his hands to stop shaking and unclasp the first button. “Thank fuck.”

Your knees buckle at his words, him dropping one of his hands to settle onto your waist and stabilize you. Your hips bump into the front of his and you immediately regain balance. His fingertips burn into your waist as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Think I’m still a little tipsy.”

Trent snorts, “I don’t think so.”

“How would you know?”

His hands go back to work on the second button, “Think you sobered up quite quickly once they mentioned Johnny. Or,” he stops talking and his fingers still, “once Angela walked out. Don’t think I didn’t see your face.”

“I was dancing with Jude, I didn’t even notice her.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. He makes sure to snicker right into your ear, “Did you forget you danced with her too?”

The last button unclasps and you immediately feel it loosen against your back. You turn around, still clutching onto your shirt, as he wears a lousy smirk. He had caught you in a lie but you weren’t going to let him win just yet.

“Like I said, I’m still a little tipsy I can’t remember.”

Trent’s one-sided grin only grows and his eyes darken from amusement to something else that you can’t quite read. You weren’t familiar with the different emotions of him, only certified in his one stoic facial expression but this was an entirely different person you were meeting tonight. One that you definitely enjoyed. This was the most you ever heard him talk.

His head falls down, glancing at the mirror and then back at you, “Alright then, darling, whatever you say.”

“You’re such an ass,” you whine, pushing him out the door with one hand.

He laughs, “Sober!”

You roll your eyes, wishing the last bit of alcohol gave you the confidence to withstand his gaze. Usually you could banter with him any way you wanted but for whatever reason you felt like you were going to say the wrong thing by accident tonight. You had already slipped up about his eyes and god you hated how you could feel that you were going to say something more. Something potentially less innocent than the color of his eyes. He had a tendency to make you not want to bite your tongue in general.

His hoodie smells a lot like him as you pull it over him, earthy and piney. You bunch your shirt in your hands, and glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before you open the door. Trent leans against his dresser, slipping his phone back into his pocket once you step out.

“Ready to go back out?”

You bite onto your cheek. You weren’t. You seriously didn’t like the way Angela was riling you up for whatever reason. Trent had already said they weren’t dating, shut that idea down quickly but it…gnawed at you? You weren’t even sure what you were feeling.

“No way,” he whispers.

You look up at him and he has an open-mouthed smile on him, was he shocked? But he also looked like he just figured out how to do a hard math problem. Your eyebrows pinch, “What?”

“I didn’t think it was true, but—I heard you talking to Maddie on the balcony when she asked if you were jealous. You lied to her, didn’t you?” There’s a smile on his face that’s he trying to control, as if he were going to burst into a shit-eating grin so wide but he was holding himself back.

Immediately you shake your head, denying, “What?”

And there it is, the laugh. His head falls back too. “Bah, c’mon, don’t try to lie to me now.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he said. His voice drops down an octave, “There’s nothing going on between Angela and I.”

“Why would I be jealous of you and her?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know either.”

Seriously, how could he just hear every damn whisper? There was no way you were going to dig yourself out of this. And quite frankly you were a little fed up, from Jude spilling his drink on you to Trent taking forever in the restroom to undo your shirt. Your patience had run thin.

You groan, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms, “It was the alcohol.”

He chuckles, stepping towards you, “You usually yap, alcohol or none.”

You roll your eyes again, “I was jealous because of how easy it was for you to talk to everyone except me.”

He tilts his head, taking another step towards you until you have to tilt your head to look up at him. His smile is sincere, “We’re talking now. Even if you’re lying just a little, I’ll take it.” He holds up his first two fingers with a small gap between them.

The giggle from your throat can’t help but to escape, despite it being hoarse. His eyebrows barely furrow as he notices it but doesn’t comment on it. Thank goodness.

“Besides,” he continues, “it’s much easier for you to hear me in here than it was out there.” His hands wrap around the hood, pulling it over your head and squeezing the strands together so it tightens around you.

“Trent!” you yell, you only make out the bottom half of his body and it suddenly comes a lot closer. He’s laughing as he nudges you against the wall, but backing off so you don’t feel trapped.

You pull off the hoodie once you find your balance, “What was that for?”

He shrugs so nonchalantly that you push him back. He stumbles onto his bed with the widest smile you had ever seen from him. It looked so unnatural as it was aimed towards you that it made your cheeks feel more incredibly hot.

“Wow,” you breathe out. His eyebrows shoot up, amusing you once again. But those doe eyes catch your attention. They were so expressive without effort and it damn near put you in a trance. A trance that would’ve led you straight into his lap had you two not felt heavy steps coming upstairs.

Trent looked immediately to the door and noticed it wasn’t locked, leaping off his bed and in a few long strides he was locking it. He then turned off the overhead light and used his phone’s screen as a source of light. You hadn’t realized his blinds were open until the moon casts its shadow down into the room.

“What the fuck?” You let out the breath you held after watching him run. There’s a sudden knock on the door and the handle jiggles but it doesn’t bulge.

“Trent, I have to piss man,” Jude pleads. Trent presses his finger to his lips as he glances towards you. You would be lying if this didn’t somehow send adrenaline through you. He was seriously hiding in his bedroom from Jude of all people.

There’s another frantic knock, and then the shoving of the door. Jude’s groan sounds so loud, “You fuckin’ twat.” It’s the last thing he says before he walks down the corridor and Trent chuckles quietly.

“You’re cruel,” you tease, walking towards him. He still hadn’t turned the light back on.

“All the other rooms are open,” he shrugs. “He’ll be fine.” He opts for turning on a lamp, turning it on the lowest setting and it’s so dim that it might as well be off.

As he walks towards his bed, he stops, turning back to you. His eyes narrow slightly as you put your hands on your hips, “What now?”

“You said Johnny and you were just close?” he starts. Of course. “But the picnic?”

“Friends can’t just go on picnics?”

He chuckles, “Did he know that?”

“Well he does now. There’s nothing between us. I didn’t like him like that, the girls just always teased us.”

Trent nods, satisfied with your answer, “Okay, enough about him.”

“Please,” you reply meekly.

“You’re the one who usually talks, maybe you should yap more.”

“Quit saying I yap.”

“Yapping about the weather, about class, about—”

You walk over to his bed and throw a pillow at his head. He goes splatting onto his side, you not realizing just how hard you actually held onto the pillow once you swung. Oops…

But he’s up in an instant, on his feet and pushing you back until you hit your back against the wall. A small ‘oomph’ slips out of your mouth that he lets go of your wrists, looking down at your face with a flash of worry, “Sorry—”

“Asshole.” But god were you so turned on with his chest being merely inches away.

And his face is back, “Oh, you’re okay.”

His watchful gaze looking down at you makes you swallow the slick remark down your throat. Wow. Where were his hands at? And just how far were you from him? It was either his eyes or that stupid useless lamp that made you lose sense of distance.

“Are you…okay?” he rasps. You watch as his throat bobbles as he rakes over your face, making you fight every urge to look away from his hard gaze.

“I’m fine,” you manage. His lip twitches as he glances down, it’s only then did you realize that his hand managed to go around your waist. You didn’t know how you didn’t feel it, especially because it went entirely underneath the hoodie. His bare hand was touching the skin of your back and your throat bubbled as he took his time slipping it out. Do not make a sound. Do not make a sound.

You didn’t have to make a sound to realize his movement awakened every fiber in your body. The hoodie suddenly felt ridiculously hot, like walking outside in the middle of summer with it on. If you weren’t leaning on the wall, you would’ve lost your balance right then and there.

And just as Trent’s fingertips are about to let go of you entirely, he lets them stray. In reality, they only touched such a small space of you but they felt suffocating, as if they were engulfing the entirety of you. Exploring you without hesitancy.

For whatever reason, whatever luck that wasn’t on your side, his lamp began to flicker until it went out completely. And just like that, a sliver of the moon’s light shined on his face.

“Did that—”

“It does that,” he mutters. “It’s old, have to give it a good tap.”

“Oh.”

Words escaped you as you felt him lean a little more into you. The sudden brain that never stopped thinking of a witty response was quiet, only thinking about how close he was. How his eyes seemed so tender. The softest they had ever been before. And gah! Even when there’s so little light his eyes look so brown.

“You had on a nice shirt.”

“Everyone saw my nipples,” you say, wanting to slap your hand over your mouth. Why did you choose to say those words at this very time?

He laughs, it’s gruff and it only goes in one ear, giving you goosebumps on that side. “Well, not everyone.” His head dips closer to your ear. “Only the girls saw them.”

“Then how did you know,” you look up at him as he reels his head back slowly. His fingertips slide to the back of your hip, finally putting his palm down and you stifle what might be a moan. Seriously, you need to get yourself together.

“It wasn’t rocket science to put two and two together, darling.”

And you couldn’t do it anymore. There were so many words and so little touch shared in the time that you’ve been pressed against the wall. You guide his free hand to your waist and settle yours around his neck. There is a brief look of shock in his eyes but it goes away as quickly as it appeared.

His breath hitches as your fingertips scratches the nape of his skin. His eyes flicker down to your lips and if he wasn’t going to make the first move, then hell you might as well go for it. Your hand slips down to his chest, balling up the white fabric and pulling him down. His lips crash onto yours feverishly, his breathing heavy as he pulls you closer to him.

You aren’t expecting to feel him through his jeans when your hips clash, so the gasp that leaves your mouth is unrestrained. God. Your hands are slipping down his chest and finding the hem of his pants but it’s so dark, the moon only shining on his face. His lips graze your neck as he squirms once you press your palm against him. His teeth sink into the skin near your shoulder as you pull on the button of his pants.

Before you could unbutton them, he pries your hands off of them and raises them over your head, pinning them down with just one hand. Did he have to look so hot doing that? You couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth, him smirking as he pressed his hips further into you. He was so hard that you wondered if he was in pain, and how quickly you could slither out of his grasp and relieve him.

But he pulls back, and the frown you make is by instinct. He brings down your hands slowly to your side and you frown even harder, “Why did you stop?”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m not drunk.”

“Walk in a straight line then,” he jokes, tugging the hem of the hoodie towards him.

You roll your eyes, a grin overtaking your scowl as you let him pull you towards the bed. You were so turned on it was ridiculous. He sits down on the bed and you can make out his head turning in your direction, waiting for you to join him.

“No more teasing,” you warn, unbuttoning your pants and shrugging them off. “Just sex.” You don’t even wait for him to pull you down, you settle in his lap as if you had been in this position many times before with him.

His eyebrows rise at your bright pink underwear, but he’s more amused with your words, “What’s the magic word?”

“Trent,” you grip onto his shoulders tightly as he laughs. His hands settle on your hips, teasing the area of where your panties met the hoodie. “Please.”

“Okay.”

The smile that raises his cheeks is so charming that you can’t help but to gently pinch them. But you kiss him as if he’s withholding coffee from you. So rabidly that he had to fall back onto stretched elbows to keep himself up. He dragged himself up to the center of the bed and pulled you with him.

The two of you groaned at the friction of your hips once you sat back down on him. His hands slipped underneath your—his—hoodie and immediately settled on your hard nipples. They had been bruising against the fabric of the hoodie, so the moan you let out was pure relief as he squeezed them. Your hand already wrapped around the length of him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hiking up his hips and shimming out of his pants. His grip is tight as he then peels off the hoodie, leaving you exposed but it doesn’t take long for him to find your breasts with his mouth and hand. And of course his other hand wandered and teased the hem of your underwear. His knuckles brushed against your clit through the fabric that you didn’t have any shame sinking further onto them and rocking your hips.

Once he flipped the two of you over, his touch was careful but firm. Very attentive to the sweet sounds of your arousal and the whimpers of every touch. He wasn’t shy about being vocal either. Especially when it came to his ragged breathing, the feeling of his breath creating goosebumps on your skin in its wake.

The feeling of his cold chain sliding down your body put you into a frenzy that you almost felt bad for how hard your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t seem to mind.

And that chain continued to bounce against you with each thrust and that alone had you wrapping your legs around him and pulling him down to kiss you. You could feel his lips turning into a sloppy smile that it made you laugh as you pecked his cheek afterward.

Even if his face radiated with innocence, his hands sliding down to give you one more tease sure didn’t. You squirmed once his thumb landed on your clit and sure as hell wasn’t ready for the sudden pinch of your nipple with his other.

“Oh my god—” his lips slid down your jaw and neck, sucking on the supple skin. You didn’t even care if he marked you, your attention so far gone because between the feeling of him so deep inside you, his thumb circling your clit, fingers alternating between a pinch and a ghost of a touch around your nipple, and his warm mouth and breath on your neck, you weren’t even sure what to focus on. It all felt so unreal.

And yet somehow he held you as you rode out the numbing feeling taking over you. Vision clouding as you felt him slip out of you as he tenderly massaged your breasts and then let out a small gasp as he came as well. He nuzzled his lips onto your cheek and neck, breath heavy as he collapsed beside you. He pulled you closer to him and then ran his hands over your thighs in a soothing manner.

God. You almost wanted to cry at how euphoric you felt but there was no way you were going to let go of that much pride in one night.

His eyes flutter open as you already look back at him. He lets out a shy laugh, “Didn’t expect you to be so quiet.”

“I was shocked the entire time.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“In the best way.”

He beams, pulling you closer to him and kissing your forehead, “Seeing you in my fucking hoodie. I couldn’t control myself anymore.”

“I was waiting for you to rip it off of me,” you sassed.

“I knew I should’ve bent you over in the restroom and fucked the brat out of you.”

“I’d love to see you try,” you encouraged and he picked his head up, surely offended, but you were on the tallest cloud that you didn’t care. “Plus, your hands were shaking so much that I don’t think—”

Trent shut you up with his lips. His hands taut around your neck as he shushes you in the way he should’ve done hours ago.

Come Monday morning, you were starting to grow restless staring at the empty seat next to you. Trent had a minute to spare before class started and he should’ve been here a minute ago. The two of you texted over the weekend, nothing spectacular but nothing too boring. You hoped you hadn’t bothered him with too many words and scared him away. Maybe your watch was a minute behind—

A white cup suddenly lands harshly in front of you, a strong hand wrapped around it until they let go. The smell of coffee seeps out of it so strongly that it itches your brain. You look over to see Trent, a frantic but bashful smile on his face as he sits down, never taking his eyes off of you. He has his own cup as well.

“That rain, such a sudden downpour,” he chimes. “So heavy that I almost ran late.”

You can’t help that gleeful smile that stretches all the muscles of your cheeks that you don’t know existed; you must’ve look crazy, you are sure. Every facial muscle hurt in that second but you don’t care as you wrap your arms around him. He laughs as he pecks your cheek and then gives your waist a squeeze.

It was sunny outside. No chance of rain or even a cloud.

---

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stories-and-chaos · 2 months

Text

Shrike: 2582 Days of Hell

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 3326, Cw: none]

———————

Eleven months. Eleven fucking months since Alastor disappeared after that fight with Vox. And not a word or glimpse of him in that entire time. You knew he was alive. There was a tiny fragment of his shadow magick in the decorative finial of one of your hatpins. The enamel black eighth note at the end of a foot of thin steel was warm to your touch. It felt like your hand resting in the crook of his arm whenever you walked together.

If he’d died, that bit of shadow would have vanished and it would just be cold enamel and metal. So you checked it morning and night. You kept your usual rotation of pins; despite wanting the constant reassurance you didn’t want anyone to notice you favoring one accessory. Maybe you were being overly cautious, but you couldn’t help it with Alastor’s absence.

Niffty had vanished in a puff of ash about two weeks after Alastor had. Presumably your husband had summoned her to…wherever he was. There were other demons that had made deals with him in exchange for their souls. If he’d died all those deals would be void. But not one had dissolved, giving you more hope that he was recovering somewhere.

Which you needed. Every time you ventured beyond your territory or Cannibal Town, every television screen in your vicinity started displaying Vox’s face. The insufferable screen saver enjoyed rubbing Alastor’s absence in your face whenever possible. Sometimes it was just his face following you. Others, he staged talk shows or news stories discussing that last fight. He always circled back to the fact that he was active and your husband hadn’t been seen for months. The longer it was, the more gleeful he became.

Extermination Day was about a month ago. You spent the whole time gripping the music note pin, trying to detect any hint of Alastor running into the angels. Fortunately the shadow was unchanged.

Carmilla Carmine had called a meeting of Overlords to discuss the fallout from this latest attack. Meetings like this generally occurred every few years, often a result from something unusual happening. A drastic increase or decrease in kills, the loss of an Overlord, a particular district being targeted, all had warranted a meeting in the past.

This year it seemed there were several upheavals in territory and Overlords in charge. After Carmilla greeted the assembled demons, her focus turned to you. “Y/N. Will your husband be joining us today?”

Decades of performing allowed you to answer steadily, with a smile even. “No, not today.” Usually you attended these together, occasionally Alastor went alone. This was the first time you were there solo. There was an immediate bray of laughter from the other side of the table.

All three of the Vees were here today. Vox had a confident sneer on his screen (he’d updated his head to be a flat screen television a little over a decade ago). Valentino licked his lips before slowly grinning in what you presumed was meant to be a lascivious manner. Velvette, the youngest of everyone in the room, was texting rapidly on her phone. She’d been the one laughing and continued to snigger.

“Not today?” she asked without looking up. “Don’t you mean never, little Miss Frigid?” She finally glared at you over her shoulder, pink braids falling heavily around her face. “Why don’t you just admit what everyone in Hell fucking knows? Vox killed your twiggy arse husband and you’re useless without him.”

You did your best to keep your cool. This would be easier if you at least knew what Alastor was up to. Outright lies could get you in trouble later on, but admitting you didn’t know where he was? That would bring a shit load of trouble now.

“Surprising that ‘everyone in Hell’ is so eager to believe your tabloid drivel.” You waved a dismissive hand at the trio, launching a slight gust at them that frizzed Velvette’s hair. Not enough to undo her hairstyle, but she wouldn’t be able to fix it without taking it all down. The girl was fanatical about looking perfect in public; the loose hairs would drive her crazy.

Carmilla smacked the tabletop. “Y/N. You know my policy on weapons and magick at these meetings,” she said firmly.

You tilted your head slightly in her direction. “Apologies, cher, I just get annoyed by the chittering of little bugs.” You deliberately avoided saying that it wouldn’t happen again. Velvette growled. “If my darling Alastor was dead don’t you think that all the former members of this group he had ownership of would be coming after me?” You laced your talons together and rested your chin on top of them. “But I haven’t had to bother myself with any of them.”

Vox snorted. “Then why isn’t the pussy whipped fucker here?”

“I’ll admit you got some good hits in during that fight, Vox. So he’s taking a well earned rest.” Hopefully your tone was dismissive enough that they’d stop pushing.

Of course they wouldn’t. Especially not Velvette, she seemed to thrive on pushing buttons. She laughed again. “Ha! An Overlord taking what, an eleven month rest? Pathetic. If he can’t even show up to protect his territory I say it’s free game.”

Apparently the girl hadn’t gotten the message about you. Vox and Valentino exchanged a glance over her head as you smiled sharply at her. “Zut alors cher! Impatient, vapid, and misinformed? On top of being poorly dressed? I suppose you have that chip on your shoulder for a reason, ma petite.” You had the satisfaction of seeing her manicured nails digging into the table. “I’m not some pretty proxy little girl. Our territory is staying ours.”

Velvette was rising from her seat when Carmilla slammed the tabletop. “¡Es suficiente! Thank you for the information, Y/N. Velvette, take your seat. We have other business to discuss.” With that the meeting started in earnest.

A handful of minor players had perished. There were still turf wars going on but it looked like at least one new Overlord was emerging from the fray. Carmilla displayed a map of the city; one contested spot was close to your borders. You really didn’t have the motivation to go after it at the moment however. If you didn’t though, the brats might just do so instead. You could see them slowly creeping closer, putting pressure on you and yours. Although with the anger in Velvette’s eyes it might not be too slow.

The meeting stretched on. Before ten minutes had passed the Vees had pulled out their phones and the pings of text messages filled the air constantly as they texted each other. Despite glares from Carmilla, they kept going. It would almost sound musical if it wasn’t so strident.

There was discussion, offers and counteroffers for territory and cash, all with the undertone of tension. You participated enough to not be dismissed as an easy target. Carmine’s rule extended to the streets immediately around her building. Despite that, you could feel Velvette and her compatriots following you closely once the group started leaving.

Fuck this nonsense. Quickly, your wings flicked open and you pushed off into the sky. You didn’t even have to add anything to the downdraft; the Vees were knocked off balance, Velvette’s hair ripped out of its braids and tangled in the gusts. “YOU FUCKING OUTDATED BITCH!” she shrieked from below. Valentino could follow you but you doubted he would. He didn’t relish pain on his own person, just his employees.

You pushed yourself faster than usual on the flight home. The exertion helped distract you. But once you were home, the door locked securely behind you, all the emotions boiled over.

“Alastor you bastard!” you screamed into the cold dark house. “Where the fuck are you!” You sent out an involuntary rush of air; you could hear items pushed off surfaces, paper and cloth ripping. That was enough to stop you from screaming more, but it didn’t get rid of your twisted knot of feelings.

You didn’t have great night vision but you couldn’t make the effort to turn on the lights. You knew where the item you wanted was. You grabbed a bottle from the sideboard and made your way to the bedroom. You skipped your nightly routine, opting to just shed clothes as you walked. Your hatpin and hat you dropped on your vanity counter. Going by feel, you grabbed the music note pin.

In the past months you had arranged cushions and blankets in the mattress into a comfort nest. You couldn’t bear the empty expanse of the bed. Your nest surrounded you on every side with enough illusion of warmth to let you sleep.

You opened the bottle of whiskey. Not bothering with a glass, you chugged gulps until it was half empty. That wasn’t the way to treat good liquor but this wasn’t a good night. You capped the bottle, placed it on your nightstand for later before burrowing under the duvet.

Not even half a bottle of strong alcohol could keep everything at bay. But there were no Overlords here to mock you, no underlings to gossip, no friends to pester you. No Alastor waiting with a handkerchief after you cried all your emotions out. Just the drone of insects in the bayou and a drop of shadow attached to enamel and steel.

Maybe he could hear you through that fragment. You were going to talk either way. “Alastor? Please come home cher. I miss you. I can do this alone, I know it. I have been. But where’s the fun without you? Come home. S’il vous plaît?” At some point you started crying and eventually fell asleep.

You woke up to a hand on your shoulder and a voice calling your name. For a split second you hoped it was Alastor, but the scent of blood and rose perfume told you who it was. “Rosie,” you mumbled, not removing the duvet. She’d had a key to your house for decades of course.

“Darlin’, how long have you been in there?” she asked gently. She didn’t remove the duvet, perhaps knowing you needed to retreat from everything.

“When was the meeting?” you managed to ask. According to your friend, it had been a full day ago. “Since I got home from that.”

She sighed and rubbed your shoulder gently. “Y/N, dearie, you can talk to me if you’d like. It seems like you have a lot going on.”

You wanted to. Oh how you wanted to just let that knot of emotions loose. But even though you were friends, Rosie was still an Overlord, roughly equal in strength. You were vulnerable enough like this. If she knew Alastor was missing, would she be able to resist the temptation to take over? You hoped so but still didn’t want to take the chance.

A few long moments passed silently. Then: “You don’t know where Alastor is. Do you honey?” You froze. “Of course not, you wouldn’t have been so cagey at that meeting if you did.”

You flipped back the duvet enough to look at her. Nothing calculating in her expression, just worry about two of her friends. Her solid black eyes still managed to express concern. She answered your silent question “I’ve known you both for ages, darlin’. We’ve helped each other out plenty of times! If your man was really that hurt, you’d have let me help by now. So, you must not know what’s going on yourself.”

“Rosie, cher, you really are one amazing demon.”

“Oh honey, you flatter me! Let’s get something in you other than whiskey and we’ll talk.” You asked her to grab your housecoat, not feeling up to getting dressed but you also didn’t want to share every bodily secret, no matter how good of friends you were.

Later the two of you were sharing a pot of coffee, biscuits, and eggs. “Do you think anyone else has figured it out?”

“That not even you know where he is? I don’t think so. You’ve been acting as if he’s with you. And none of the other Overlords know you two like I do,” she said while adding sugar cubes to her coffee. “Alright, details, details. If I’m going to help you out, I gotta know what’s going on.”

There wasn’t much more you could tell her. She had seen the footage of Alastor and Vox fighting, then both backing down and his disappearance into his shadow. Vox had aired every angle he had of the incident multiple times. He’d even made an hour-long special with 3D models recreating the fight with dramatic shots and heroic close ups of his face. Part of the special even went frame by frame through Alastor’s shadows wrapping around him, pointing out every possible detail that Vox could spin as proof the Radio Demon couldn’t have survived.

While Rosie wasn’t about to believe Vox’s word, she did gently ask how you were so sure your husband survived. “Like I said, if the former Overlords he owns were free, they’d be coming for me. But also,” you hand the music note hatpin to her, “we made these in… the 1940’s I think it was.”

You let her examine it. The cannibal turned it over in her hands, gleaming steel flashing between her slim fingers. Before long she noticed the magick in the finial. She brushed her fingertips against the eighth note and felt Alastor’s distinctive green edged black power.

“Alastor has matching cufflinks with my power in them. So I know he’s alive. I just don’t know where.” You took the pin back and sighed. “I’m not about to let everyone know about this however. Especially when he hasn’t contacted me.”

“Well, shit. That makes things harder. Not a word from him?”

You shook your head. “He summoned Niffty a while back. I thought he might send her back with a message, some information, anything. But she’s been gone since a couple weeks after Alastor disappeared. I’m so scared of making something up and it backfiring! And if those brats find out I’m basically alone they’ll all come at me together.” You ran a hand through your hair restlessly. “I can take them on individually. Maybe even two to one. But if all three attack together? I’d be fucked.”

Rosie stayed quiet, letting you vent your fear out as she ate. “Well, one thing I can do is back you up. Both with what you say about Alastor and if those three come calling.”

“You’d…you’d do that for me? For Alastor?” Sure you were friends, but putting yourself on the line for another Overlord was not the norm.

“Of course honey! That’s what allies do; it's what friends do. We’ve done enough favors for each other that I’ve stopped counting, just like you right?” You had to nod at that. At some point it was silly to keep track who owed whom. “Not to mention, you and Alastor are much better neighbors than any of the Vees or their cronies. And you know my people, they don’t care for all that modern junk those brats peddle.”

You hadn’t realized quite how unsteady you’d felt these past months. Just knowing there was someone on your side helped immensely. Enough that you could think of your next steps instead of simply trying to endure what came your way. “Merci Rosie.” She squeezed your hand gently before encouraging you to eat. You hadn’t had much of an appetite recently but you needed to. Especially if you were going to rule your territory alone for now.

You and your friend discussed your options as breakfast disappeared. Rosie, reassured you at least felt a bit more stable, headed home after helping you wash the dishes. You then soaked in the bath, letting the warm water soothe the tension in your body. Your back and wings were sore after that dash home yesterday.

The hatpin was sitting on the bathroom counter. “I’m still mad at you, cher,” you said to it. Sound probably couldn’t travel through that fragment but you decided to act like Alastor could hear you. “And I’m not going to forgive you easily. But I’m not letting everything we’ve done together crumble because I’m upset. And I’m not letting those little bitches from the Vees crush us.”

You kept busy the following days. You quickly annexed that contested area for starters. No need to give the Vees a foothold so close to you and your friend.

Alastor’s broadcast station couldn’t do much without him. But there was space in the building. You moved recording equipment there. While you couldn’t write music, you recognized talent and you had an ability to pick what music would not just be popular, but endure past the moment.

Starting with an album of your favorite songs, you set up Songbird Studios. You leaned into the audio quality of vinyl records and the aura of class and exclusivity. Even though your library of music spanned genres, you were very selective about who could sign with the studio.

With a steady flow of income, you increased your power base. More deals and souls, favors and debts waiting for you to cash in, all of which firmed up your Overlord status.

There were days you cried, days you raged, days you wanted to stay in your nest and days you wanted to tear down the Vees tower brick by tacky brick. You confided in Rosie who continued to give you support and pinkie fingers to crunch when you were particularly upset. You were there when she needed someone to talk to and provide entertainment to Cannibal Town, both on your own and scheduling artists that worked for you.

It took a lot of effort, but you did your best to act indifferent at the Vees’ needling. The less reaction they received, the less fun it was. It took years but eventually they lost interest in messing with you.

You counted the days since Alastor vanished. Even once you knew his location, you kept track until you saw him in person again. Carmilla called a few meetings over those 2,500-plus days. You went to some, skipped others.

The latest one, you saw Velvette entering the building from your vantage point above. You were not in the right headspace to deal with the little bitch, knowing where Alastor was staying but not having seen him yet. Choose your battles.

Of course, when you found out later that your husband had attended that meeting, you wanted to kick yourself. And him. And Velvette but you always wanted to kick Velvette. Might as well add in the other two Vees while you were at it.

Once you reunited with Alastor at Charlie Morningstar’s hotel, you immediately moved into his suite. He kept the same motif as your home and it was easy enough to settle in. That night, you refused to let go of his torso as you laid in bed together. Even so, you were more relaxed than any other time in the past seven years.

“Two thousand five hundred and eighty two,” you said, your face buried into his side.

“Hmm? What was that, cher?” he asked, stroking your arm.

“Two thousand five hundred and eighty two. That’s how many days it’s been since I saw you last.” You sat up a bit to look at him in his vibrant red eyes. “I kept track.”

“I would expect nothing less from you my dear.”

“I’m going to take those days out on the person that separated us.”

His smile turned sharper. His sclera flickered black as his pupils turned into radio dials. “Will you allow my assistance, my dear Shrike?”

You reached up to stroke his face. You could feel your feathers sharpening. “Of course. I’ll need help after all. And who am I to deny the Radio Demon his revenge?”

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #hazbin vees #hazbin carmilla #alastor #alastor x reader #asexual alastor #asexual reader #asexual #acespec #ace representation

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highreevess · 2 years

Note

Omg I loved what u wrote about rafe but I'm currently in love with tom riddle again. Can you write a smut (or fluff whatever u like) about a popular!Hufflepuff reader (or whatever house u like) with tom trying to seduce her?

Of course! I'm going to write smut because, with Tom Riddle, fluff is pretty much nonexistent, but I will make the smut a bit softer than I usually would. Though Tom Riddle would never be sweet during honest sex, he would be if he was trying to seduce someone.

My Tutor

Warnings: Underage sex (Tom and reader are seventeen), seduction, manipulation, sub!reader unprotected sex.

Summary: Reader is at risk of failing her potions class, and she has to ace her next test in order to pass the class. She thinks that getting a perfect score on her next test is impossible, but when a certain dark-haired Slytherin offers his aid, she finds hope. What she doesn't know is that Tom Riddle is not helping her because he wants her to pass the class. He is helping her because he has been looking for an opportunity to seduce her for months. And when he finds it, he takes it.

Word count: 3,871

Sighing, I set down my graded essay and cross my arms over my chest.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" my classmate, Abraxas, asks.

"I failed," I sigh. I was studying for this potions essay for two weeks. I spent every night and day researching everything there is to know about potions, and yet I still failed.

"It's just one essay. You'll make it up," Abraxas says, dismissing my feelings about failing the paper as something unimportant.

"It's not just one essay," I tell him. "I'm barely passing potions. If I don't ace my next test, I'm going to fail the class." Though my grades are literally perfect in every other class, in this one, they are downright awful.

"I could always tutor you," a sudden voice says. Turning my head to the left, I see Tom Riddle standing above me, his hands clasped behind his back. Eyebrows furrowing, I ask, "Why would you offer?" Though I am quite liked throughout the school by most of the students and staff, there are still some people that do not like me. Tom Riddle is one of those people.

"You said you were at high risk of failing. If I tutor you, you will pass," he answers simply, as if I am stupid for asking my question.

For a moment, I think about denying his offer because I know how calculating and manipulative Tom Riddle can be when it suits him, but if I don't take him up on his offer, I am going to fail. Tom Riddle is top of the class, meaning there is no one better. If I want to pass, I need him.

"When can you tutor me?" I ask.

"Tonight," he answers, and my eyes widen. "Are you sure?" I ask. I hadn't expected him to offer to tutor me so soon.

"The test is in one week. If you wish to pass, we should start as soon as possible," he tells me.

I glance back at Abraxas, who just shrugs his shoulders and silently encourages me to take Tom Riddle up on his offer.

Swallowing, I look back at Tom Riddle. "Okay. Where?"

"The room of requirement after hours. Eleven to be precise," he answers before turning around and walking away. He heads toward the back of the library before disappearing behind a tall bookshelf.

I turn back to Abraxas and admit, "I don't know how I feel about being alone with him after hours."

"He's not going to hurt you," Abraxas assures, but even he knows that isn't something he can promise. Though I have never personally seen Tom Riddle cause harm to someone, I hear the rumors murmured throughout the school. I hear the rumors of him terrifying first-years and casting the imperius curse on sixth-years. I hear the rumors of him casting the cruciatus curse on those who have failed the tasks he has given them.

He has never been caught, but he has turned seventeen. That means the trace is no longer on him. The only way to prove that he used one of the unforgivable curses is to have a witness, and there are never witnesses.

"If his intentions were honest, he wouldn't want to meet alone after hours," I mumble, looking down at my potions essay.

"He can't kill you in the school, Y/N. You're worrying for nothing," Abraxas says, dismissing my thoughts.

"Am I?" I retort, meeting the fair-haired wizard's gaze.

He ignores my concerns yet again because he knows they are valid. Instead of arguing with me, he just says, "Do you have a choice?"

At his words, my gaze travels down to my potions essay, which is marked in dozens of places in bright red ink.

Swallowing, I answer, "No."

*****************************************************

Making my way down the large hallways of the school, I quickly head toward the room of requirement. It is just before eleven at night, but professors and other staff are often awake at this time. It's risky for me to leave my common room after hours.

But as Abraxas reminded me earlier today in the library, I do not have a choice.

When I come across a small corridor with a spiral staircase made of stone, I take it, heading upward until I get to the seventh floor of the large castle.

Once I step off of the staircase, I make my way to the corridor on the floor on the left. Once there, I make my way forward until I come across a wall made of stone with nothing on it.

I stand in front of the wall for a few moments, and eventually, a wooden door appears in front of me. I swallow and intake a deep breath before walking forward and opening the door.

I make my way into the room of requirement and see Tom Riddle standing just a few feet away from me, his hands clasped promptly behind his back. To the right of him is a rectangular table with two chairs on opposite sides. To the left of him is a large fireplace made of gray stone. Within the stone fireplace are a few green logs, crackling because of the green fire burning them.

"You came," he announces, his eyes narrowed as if he did not expect me to.

"I didn't really have a choice," I admit.

"We all have a choice."

His words cause my mouth to gape slightly because I don't know what to say to that.

Clearing my throat, I ask, "Shall we start?"

He nods and glances at the table he stands next to.

Taking the hint, I walk over to the table and pull out the chair on my side before taking a seat in it. He, however, does not do the same. Instead, he continues standing next to me, not even a foot away. "I have reviewed your most recent essay. You struggle most with the fundamental elements of each ingredient within a potion. You struggle with explaining how these ingredients make a certain potion when mixed together."

He takes a step closer to me, and I find myself swallowing at the action. He stands only two inches away from me—close enough for me to smell his cologne, close enough for me to feel his shadows.

"We shall work on that first," he says, and I give a curt nod.

His hand reaches out, and he grabs a piece of parchment with neat notes written on it in the finest of cursive—no doubt written by Tom himself. He wouldn't settle for notes written by anyone other than himself.

"I'm going to ask a series of questions. You are going to answer them," he says, leaving little room for argument.

"What is Aconite used for?" he asks.

"It's used in the Wolfsbane Potion and Wideye Potion," I answer.

"That's not what I asked."

"Yes, it was," I argue.

"I asked what it is used for, not what it is used in," he tells me, and I roll my eyes.

"What's the difference?"

"This is what I mean," he tells me, "you're misunderstanding the questions asked on tests and misunderstanding the prompts on essays. You know the material. You are just misunderstanding what is asked of you."

"Then, how do I fix that?" I ask.

"First, I want you to try to answer these questions," he says, grabbing a piece of parchment from the stack of papers on the table I'm sitting at. He brings it in front of me and says, "Read the questions and answer them. Really read them. Now that you know what your problem is, you may be able to fix it without my help. Give it a try."

Though I don't think I will be able to do what he thinks I can, I nod my head and turn my attention to the paper in front of me. On it is a series of hand-written questions written in the darkest of ink.

I look for a quill on the table, but when I don't find one, I turn to Tom. I see him holding a quill and an inkpot. He hands the quill to me and sets the golden pot of ink down on the table, a few inches away from my paper.

I mumble words of thanks before dipping the quill he gave me into the ink pot and casting my gaze on the paper in front of me once more.

I begin to read over the questions and prompts on the paper, double and triple-checking the questions before bringing the end of the quill to the paper and writing down an answer. I then check the questions again and my answers again before moving on to the next one.

Tom, though silent and uninterrupting, stands right next to me, distracting me even though he does not mean to. He watches me as I answer the questions he has written down, his blue eyes narrowed in observance.

After about ten minutes of answering the questions on Tom Riddle's "quiz," I feel Tom Riddle shift. He moves so that he stands behind me instead of next to me before leaning over.

Turning his head so that his mouth is close to my ear, he whispers, "Reread number seven." The coolness of his breath against my skin causes goosebumps to break out all over my body, but I try my best to ignore them. I give him a curt nod before redirecting my gaze to the seventh question on the parchment. I reread it and see that I misread the question when I answered it a minute ago.

I dip my quill back into the inkpot before crossing out my written answer and writing a new one. Once I do, I set my quill down and wait for Tom Riddle to either tell me to try again or tell me that I got it right.

"Very good," he whispers into my ear, his deep voice causing my body to wrack with a small shiver.

He seems to notice this because he tilts his head and says, "Am I making you nervous?"

I swallow and shake my head, scared that my voice will betray me if I choose to give him a verbal answer.

I see Tom Riddle's eyes narrow out of the corner of my eye.

Tom Riddle moves his hand toward the table and gently grabs my hand, his index and middle fingers gently pressing into the underside of my wrist. "Then why is your heart racing?" he asks, and my eyes widen when I realize he has hold of my wrist to check my pulse.

He leans closer, and his eyes drop down to my chest, which is only covered by a thin, yellow top. "Why are you breathing so heavily?"

Swallowing, I try my best to scoot away from him, but with one of his hands gripping the back of my chair, it's impossible.

"There's no need to move away, Y/N," he says, letting go of my wrist. His now unoccupied hand goes to my hair. He tucks a lock of it behind my ear, and a small breath escapes my lips.

Leaning in, he whispers lowly into my ear, "There's no need to ignore what you want."

My body wracks with yet another shiver, and I mentally curse myself for it.

"Tom, we should be studying—"

"Is that really how you want to spend your time with me?" he asks, cutting me off. "Do you really want to spend your time with me learning potion formulas instead of allowing me to give you the pleasure you seek?"

A small gasp escapes my lips at his words, and the corner of his lips kicks up. Holding my gaze, he moves his hand. He moves it downward until it hovers just above my breasts. He lets it hover there for a moment before grabbing the top button of my yellow top and undoing it.

When I make no move to stop him or push him away, he undoes the second button, then the third, and the fourth.

Only when he gets to the last button of my top do I realize what he is doing. I quickly shove myself away from him and stand up from my chair. "We can't," I tell him, intaking deep breaths because I wasn't breathing at all a moment ago.

"Why not?" he asks, tilting his head.

Swallowing, I shake my head again and avoid answering his question. My cheeks are inflamed with heat, and I'm afraid that if I answer him, I will either give him an answer that he knows is a lie or an answer that is the truth, which is the very last thing I want.

Tom Riddle takes a step forward. "Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?" Though I would love to say yes, I can't because I know that it would be a lie.

And he would know it too.

So, I shake my head.

"Then what are you afraid of?" he asks, taking another step forward. He stands only half a foot away from me now, and it makes me take a step backward.

"I'm not afraid," I assure. "I'm simply not interested."

His head tilts, and he takes another step forward. And then another. He keeps moving closer to me until he backs me up against the stone wall behind me. Once he has, he brings his hand up to my face and thumbs my bottom lip. "Give me a real answer, and I'll leave you alone."

After a few moments of silence, his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips. He begins to stroke my bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes fixed on the movement.

Suddenly, he parts my mouth and sticks his thumb inside. My lips close around his finger on instinct, and he notices this with a smirk. "You can lie to yourself all you want," he tells me, tucking another lock of hair behind my ear with his free hand, "but you can't lie to me."

He removes his thumb from my mouth before surging forward, pressing his lips to mine. My eyes widen at the action, but all it takes is the sweep of his tongue against my lips for me to lean into the kiss. My eyes flutter closed, and I return the kiss.

Tom's large hands go to my top, and he undoes the very last button before pulling the top off of me, leaving me in only a black corset. Breaking the kiss, he grabs my shoulders and turns me around. He gently pushes my front against the cold wall in front of me before grabbing the laces of my corset. He quickly unties the corset while leaving kisses on my shoulders and neck.

Once he peels the corset from my body, he turns me around so that I am facing him.

My torso and breasts are hit by the coldness of the air, and a small gasp escapes my lips. I quickly cover my breasts with my hands, but he pulls my hands away and says, "Don't you dare."

"Tom—"

My words are cut off when he grabs my arm and spins both of us around. He then grabs my waist in his large hands and lifts me up. He sets me down on a cold, hard surface, and I don't realize that I am on top of a table until I look down and see the wood.

When I look back at Tom Riddle, I do not find him standing in front of me anymore.

I find him on his knees.

"Has someone given you an orgasm before?" he asks, and my mouth parts in a gasp.

"I'll take that as a no," he says, grabbing my thighs with his cold hands. He gently spreads them before saying, "Lift your hips for me, little witch."

I obey on instinct, and he grabs the end of my Hufflepuff uniform skirt before pulling it down until it reaches my ankles. He then pulls it off and tosses it somewhere in the room.

Though the frigid air around me makes me try to close my thighs, Tom Riddle makes it impossible. He keeps my thighs open with his powerful hands.

"Have you ever been with someone before?" he asks, and I swallow before nodding in answer. "One," I whisper.

"And he didn't make you cum?" he asks, and I swallow before shaking my head.

"Pity," he says, teasing my clothed pussy with his index finger. "A beautiful witch such as yourself shouldn't be left unsatisfied." My cheeks heat at his words, and he notices this with a widening of his smirk.

"Tell me, have you ever touched yourself?" he asks, and I nod.

"And did you cum?" he asks. I hesitate for a moment before shaking my head.

Narrowing his eyes, he asks, "Have you ever had an orgasm?"

My cheeks heat yet again, but this time it isn't because of lust; it's because of embarrassment.

"There's nothing to be ashamed about, Y/N," he tells me, moving my panties to the side so that my pussy is exposed to him. He trails his index finger up my slit until it brushes over my clit, and my hips involuntarily buck against him.

Leaning in, he blows on my exposed clit, and a breath of air passes my lips. "Tom," I beg, but I don't know what for.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he asks, and I nod. Though I know that I shouldn't be doing this with him, the need to have him touch me overpowers all the warning bells going off in my mind.

"I need words, Y/N."

"Touch me please," I beg, and he obliges immediately. He presses his index finger against my clit and begins rubbing tight circles into it. "You have all of these stressful things weighing on you and no way to relax," he says, teasing my entrance with his middle finger. "Such a pity," he tells me, sliding his middle finger inside of me.

"Tom," I breathe, bucking my hips against him. "More." I don't want to rush him or boss him around, but I need more. I need him to make me cum.

"Such a greedy little thing," he chides, removing his finger from me. My eyes widen at the loss, and I open my mouth to tell him to touch me again, but he shushes me by speaking first. "I'll give you what you want, Y/N. Don't worry."

I watch him as he undoes his belt and tosses it to the floor beneath him. The metal of his buckle hits the stone floor with a loud noise that causes me to flinch slightly.

He seems to notice my flinch because he says, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." Leaning forward, he presses another kiss on my lips, which I return in less than a millisecond.

My hands go to his slacks, which I quickly unzip. He steps out of them before pushing me down onto the table so that I am lying on it. "Hold on to me," he tells me, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. Seeing my confusion, he says, "Trust me. You'll want to hold on."

Though I do not understand why he is telling me to hold on to him, I obey and grab onto his large arms.

That's when I feel it.

Something hard touches my core, and I look up at Tom's face when I realize that it is his cock. "Tom—"

"Trust me, little witch," he breathes, pushing the head of his cock into me. I gasp when I feel how thick it is, and my nails involuntarily dig into the flesh of his large arms.

"Shh," he says, bringing his hand up to my face. He strokes my cheek with his thumb as he gently continues to push inside of me. "It will feel good in a moment. Just hold on."

Though the sheer size of him pains me, his words cause me to nod my head and close my eyes tightly as I wait for the pain to subside.

Slowly and gently, he works his way inside of me, stroking my cheek and whispering words of encouragement as he does. Once he finally bottoms out, he whispers, "Are you okay?"

Though I am still in some pain, I nod my head, and he begins to slowly move.

I keep my hands on his biceps so I can hold onto him, and he seems to notice because he moves one of his arms so he can reach between my legs. He moves his fingers until he finds my clit, and once he does, he begins to rub tight circles into it.

The feeling of him rubbing tight circles into my clit causes me to relax around him, and I find myself allowing my eyes to flutter closed, in pleasure this time; not pain.

Wiggling my hips, I try to get him to rub my clit faster, but he doesn't. He rubs slow, tight circles into me, and it makes me whine in frustration.

I see him tilt his head, a wicked smirk forming on his pale face. "Tell me what you want," he says, continuing to circle my clit and fuck me at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Faster," I breathe, hoping he will understand what I mean.

He does.

He circles my clit faster and begins to gently pick up the pace of his thrusts.

Though I have touched myself before and have been touched by others, it has never felt like this. His touches are so skilled, and it makes me whine in pleasure.

I feel something coiling low in my stomach, and my eyes widen. "Tom," I say, my voice shaky. "Tom, I feel something weird—"

"Shh," he says. "Don't fight it. Just let go."

"Tom—"

"Trust me," he says as he continues rubbing my clit and thrusting into me.

The feeling in my lower stomach intensifies as he continues fucking me, and eventually, I am hit with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure. My eyes flutter closed, and my mouth parts in a quiet moan as pleasure takes me. "Oh, God," I whimper.

Tom Riddle's thrusts begin to quicken, and my eyes open when I feel it. I look up at Tom Riddle and see him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He begins to fuck me at a hard, fast pace, and though I am very sensitive because of the orgasm I just had, I don't object to his roughness. Instead, I watch as a rapture of pleasure overtakes his features.

I feel him pull out of me, and a second later, I feel something squirt onto my stomach.

When his eyes open, he looks down at me. "You're never going to be satisfied by someone else again."

He gets off of me before helping me off of the table. He then grabs my skirt and allows me to step into it. He pulls it up before grabbing the rest of my clothes and helping me dress. Once I'm fully dressed, he puts his clothes on as well.

"You need more tutoring. Meet me here again tomorrow night."

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter three : the smitten paladin (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : reader does some reading

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. Elaine and Lysa both seemed to sense that you were back in slightly better spirits and Lysa doesn’t bother to ask as she fetches you a dress that isn’t blue. You want to protest when she emerges from the closet with a simple green gown but you bite your tongue. Maybe he’ll like it.

You don’t care. Why should you care? Why the hell are you already sweating? Nothing has changed. He did one nice thing for you, so you forgive him. But you still don’t care.

Well… you care enough to ask them to leave your hair down, which they do. And you care enough to ask them to leave your face alone. (Save for some thin golden eyeliner.) You dismiss the girls with a thank you and give yourself just a moment alone.

You’re going to have a normal day. Not a great day, and not a good day. Just a normal day. You are going to go to the library today and you’re going to read. And you are going to talk to the Mandalorian. You are going to patch things up. Oh gods, what if he doesn’t want to patch things up? What if he thinks you’re just some unstable, bellyaching princess? Stop caring what he thinks. Normal day. Just go out there before he comes in here.

You take the book he had given you and you tuck it under your arm as you go out to greet him. As expected, he is there, just outside the door, and as expected he doesn’t speak first, so you do it instead.

“Good morning, Mando.”

He takes his time, observing your mood, his visor trained on you. You suddenly feel feverish.

“Morning, princess.” His voice is careful, almost like he’s testing the waters. You don’t know how to tell him you aren’t mad anymore, or that you’re okay now. You’re pretty sure both are true. So you just head towards the library.

“Come on sparkles.” Is all you say as you start walking. The silence isn’t necessarily comfortable but at least it feels bearable. Once there you settle into your familiar positions, you, seated in the reading nook, him, pulling up a chair across from you. You hopelessly want to say something but you don’t want to come off as desperate, and honestly you’re so anxious at this point you’re worried you’ll throw up if you try to speak. So you take out the book, making sure he can see the cover. Hoping he takes it as a peace offering, you pick it up from chapter two, where you’d left off after last night. And that is how you stay for several hours.

You read, flipping through the chapters of what ends up being a pretty corny book. It’s a predictable tale of forbidden love, the daughter of a blacksmith falling in love with a knight, blah blah blah, a little dull but entertaining enough to keep your attention for the most part. So much so that you’re able to completely forget that your every move is being watched.

Almost.

Because you get to chapter six, and suddenly, the book is… raunchier than you expected it to be.

And it’s sweltering in the library out of nowhere and you’re pretty sure you can’t blame Naboo this time.

You’re hyper aware of him now.

That he’s watching you. Well he’s always watching you, always has been, but now you can’t stop thinking about it because you’re sitting here, reading porn, and he’s sitting there, watching you.

You should close the book, take a break, get some water.

But you don’t.

Because suddenly the book is kind of good. For some reason you’re suddenly engrossed by the story of Oskar and Dorthea. That’s what you tell yourself. That you are captivated by the storytelling, not the way Oskar’s large hands are currently clutching Dorthea’s heaving bosom. You wonder if Oskar is wearing gloves when he does it. You should stop reading.

You can’t do this.

But… you have been neglecting certain urges of yours since arriving on Naboo. And now it’s been over three weeks and to say that you’re pent up would be putting it lightly.

So what’s the harm in reading something a little risqué? It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, after all life as a newlywed wasn't exactly going the way you thought it would, so maybe this would help relieve a little bit of the stress that you’re very obviously suffering from at this point. So you allow yourself to read on, and everything is fine until she starts taking off his armor, because you can see a certain armor wearing nuisance sitting just over the top of your book. You start imagining it before you can stop yourself and the all too familiar heat washes over you.

This is the part where you remind yourself to stop.

Or…

You could indulge, just this once. There’s nothing wrong with that, an innocent little fantasy. It will help you enjoy your book more if you imagine the characters more clearly. And it’s so easy after that, to imagine Oskar the paladin in Beskar, funnily enough he really does remind you of Mando. He’s sarcastic and he’s witty but he is also rather gentle with the blacksmith's daughter when he needs to be.

He’s also quite rough with her when he needs to be.

You can’t help but wonder if Mando is similar to Oskar in that regard as well.

Okay you definitely can’t do this.

Unless of course you’re thinking about Oskar. There’s nothing wrong with that. He isn’t real. You can fantasize about him and it would be perfectly acceptable. You should do that instead. Fantasize about the not real character in your book and not on the very real Mandalorian sitting several feet away from you.

Just for a minute. Just to help relieve some of the tension that has been building in your body for weeks now. This is the smart and healthy thing to do, lest it spiral completely out of control. This is a good thing, this will dissipate the fog that has been clouding your judgment.

So you think about Oskar. Just Oskar. Stare at the pages of your book and think about Oskar. Tall, dark, and handsome Oskar.

He’s probably downright barbaric with it. Probably takes what he wants, he’s such a jackass. You bet he gives it just as hard as he takes it though, that overconfident prick probably loves it when you just fall to pieces for him.

Not you.

Dorthea.

Not him.

Oskar.

Think about Oskar.

Is he vocal? He’s always so quiet but when he does talk it’s like he can’t shut up. You get the sense that he likes feeling smarter than you. Or whoever it is you’re imaging in this scenario. He’d probably be just as rude in the bedroom. Just absolutely wreck you and then call you sweet names and his words would be kind and warm but he would use that condescending tone he uses when he knows he’s winning, and he’s always winning. You hate that he’s always winning, maybe you should come up with some rehearsed comebacks. Or would that be lame? He’d probably see right through that.

Oskar. You’re thinking about Oskar.

For Makers sake think about Oskar.

Oskar probably doesn’t have the patience to undo Dorthea’s complicated dresses. He probably just rips them right off of her, Oskar probably doesn’t even take the time to remove his helmet. For no reason in particular. He probably leaves it on, too consumed by his feral, untamed, need to ravage her. To devour her entirely with his hands, his stupid, pointlessly, gloved hands. He might lift the helmet enough just to bite the fingertips of the gloves to rip them off as swiftly as possible. Or maybe he’d let you- Dorthea , sink her teeth into them, make her remove them.

It’s unbearably hot now, and people sweat when they get hot.

That’s what you tell yourself when you feel a wetness pooling in a place you cannot think about right now lest you tear your dress off right here in front of him in the library to deal with it.

He could push you up against the shelves, no one ever comes in here. He could bend you over the reading nook you were currently sitting atop, or you could just join him in that chair, stare down into his visor and let him know who’s in charge.

Because you hate him. Obviously.

You want to be in charge because you know he’d detest that. You want to watch him melt in your hands, beg you for more. That’s the only reason. To see him reduced to nothing but a man, not this statue of steel and wit that he is constantly portraying. Just a man, you want to be the one thing on this entire stupid planet that makes him nothing but a man.

You definitely aren’t thinking about Oskar right now.

This doesn’t mean anything.

Stars, what has gotten into you today? You need to get laid. That’s gotta be it. Back on Hoth you were a princess without a husband, it was easy to find boys in your colony who would happily bed you whenever you desired. But not here, here you have a husband who won’t bed you, (thank the gods.) and an unbearable bodyguard who you can’t even see the face of so Maker why can’t you stop thinking about him. You could go to the market in the city, probably find a vibrator or something pretty easily. But you’re the princess of a very respected royal family now, you can’t exactly go strolling into a sex shop in broad daylight. And then of course there’s the Mando of it all. You can’t help but wonder what his reaction to that would be, would he follow you into that kind of establishment? He’d have to, right? He’s followed you everywhere else. What would he think if he saw you buying yourself a toy to keep you company? He has to know at this point that Kodo isn’t exactly satisfying your needs. He has to understand that you have needs, most people have needs. Does Mando have needs?

Does he ever think about your needs when he’s satisfying his?

Don’t.

You have to say it to yourself now.

Your face is surely bright red at this point, you consider if that’s something he likes. Does he like how easily riled up you are? How flustered you get at just the thought of him? Okay you were certainly overindulging at this point. You had to stop, there has to be a line and that line certainly is imagining what he might find attractive.

“Why don’t you try sounding it out.” He catches you off guard, unmoving as he speaks.

“What?” Maker, are you panting? Pull yourself together woman.

“I assume you’re stuck on a word, you’ve been on that page for nearly 15 minutes. Try sounding it out.”

Usually this behavior from him is the perfect thing to stop any untoward thoughts. Why isn’t it working? Why do you suddenly wanna shut him up in a completely different way?

“You’re a funny guy, have you considered being a comedian or do you just really like being a glorified babysitter?”

“I really like being a glorified babysitter.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You loathe him.

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

At least things are okay between you two. Things seem okay. This is normal. There’s a relief to be found in knowing that your relationship, (albeit antagonistic) seems to be repaired. That is until he of course has to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“How’s the book?”

Great.

“It’s good. Thank you for returning it to me…”

“Of course.” You hope he’ll drop it but it’s him so of course he doesn’t. “What’s it about?” You can hear the faux innocence practically dripping through the modulator. There’s no way he’s actually doing this.

“I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why not? You have no idea what I like.”

Okay this has gone from inappropriate to downright intimate. What's his end goal here? You know that he can’t seriously be doing this. Maybe he’s playing some sort of game with you? Maybe he’s playing a game of chicken, if that’s the case then you certainly aren’t going to lose, and let him win? Hell no.

“It might be a little too intense for you.” You raise a single eyebrow, his move.

“Oh really? How so?” He leans back in the chair now. For Makers sake does he have to spread his legs so obscenely wide.

“Isn’t there some kind of Mandalorian vow of celibacy?” You have no idea but you plaster a naive look on your face.

“Nothing in the creed about that, princess.” How does he make the word princess sound so vulgar? Why is there a rush of molten heat through your veins when you find out he isn’t celibate.

This doesn’t mean anything.

“Oh? But I thought you weren’t allowed to take the armor off?” This shouldn’t make you perspire as much as you are. You aren’t doing anything wrong, you’re having a conversation, it’s not like you’re cheating on your husband by having a conversation.

“Just the helmet.” You knew that, of course, but it’s still a shame. You’d love to give his mouth something to do other than taunt you.

You need to get out of this library.

“Oh.” Great quick thinking. Real impressive comeback you moron.

“So?”

“So…?”

“The book, what’s it about?”

Of course he isn’t going to drop this. You should lie, this conversation can escalate very quickly if you’re not careful and considering how close you are to sticking your hand up your dress right here in front of him, you better be careful.

“It’s a cute little love story about a girl and a knight.”

He hums softly like he’s considering something while you consider lobbing the book at his head.

“Sounds charming.” Not a good sign that you can hear the derisive tone through the modulator already. “So what are you stuck on?”

Your eyes meet the page you’d left open while you were daydreaming, you manage to keep a straight face but you’re not exactly sure how you’re gonna ad-lib your way out of this seeing as Dorthea is currently bent over a hay bale in the stables and Oskar is currently “thrusting his pulsing member into her damp maidenhood.” Maker, this book is garbage.

You know what, why not push back? He always manages to tease you into silence or reduce you to a stuttering blushing mess, so why not grab at this chance to get the upper hand? He’s not the only one who can catch people off guard.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?” You hold out the book at arms length and turn it ninety degrees. It isn’t a picture book but you still think it’s a bit funny to furrow your brow and pretend.

It works, he’s silent. Too silent, you worry you’ve gone too far again but after a few beats the modulator crackles to life once more.

“Didn’t realize the book had pictures, I must have missed them.” He crosses his arms and tilts his head ever so slightly.

Dank farrik. Why couldn’t you go one conversation without him dropping some ridiculous bomb that makes you look like an idiot, it’s like he’s dedicating his days to outsmarting you rather than protecting you. More importantly, you need to address the bantha in the room.

“You read this?” You don’t bother hiding the disbelief on your face, he already knows he’s got you so what's the point.

“You’re not the only one who’s bored, princess, when you’re alone, I’m alone with you. One of the many perks of silently standing behind you all the time. Someone had to go clean up the books you dropped, thought I’d give one of them a read.” You can’t believe this.

“So you’ve read The Smitten Paladin? ” The confusion muddling your brain right now is downright overwhelming, worst of all is now you can’t stop thinking about him reading the filth you’ve been enjoying.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you how it ends.”

Maker, you want to chuck the book at him so bad right now, but you know it won’t stop his smug tone that fills the air between you. You need to get out, you need to be in your chambers and far, far away from the obnoxious, egotistical, self-righteous Mandalorian. So you stand up and close the book and start walking, of course he’s fluid in the way he matches you, almost like he anticipated your departure.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to spoil the happy ending.” Is all you can mutter out as you make haste towards your chambers, refusing to look at him the entire way.

This doesn’t mean anything. ✩

You cannot lock your door fast enough. You don’t bother turning on any lamps, you just collapse down on the edge of the bed and hike your dress up, no sense in wasting half an hour trying to get it off, not when there are far more important matters to attend to regarding getting off.

You waste no time shoving your hand down the front of you underwear, you’ve never been so thankful for all of the layers in your gowns because you’re soaked through your panties, you’re fingers are small and nimble so you easily swipe two digits through your folds, scooping up a bit of your wetness, back already arching as you just say fuck it and bury both fingers into your cunt.

The shaky sigh that leaves your lips is downright pornographic. Three weeks of pent up frustration all crashing down on you now as you bring your other hand up to cover your mouth, you start grinding against your palm, haphazardly doing everything in your power to put some friction against your swollen clit. Your hand can’t muffle your moans entirely as you curl your fingers against that spot that makes you sob into your wrist, you bite down onto the meat of your palm just below your thumb but you can’t stop the noises that slip from you as you curl your fingers a bit faster, thrusting them in and out of your drenched hole.

You wish your fingers were thicker, there’s barely any stretch with how small yours are, you can hit all the spots you need to push yourself towards that delectable edge but you can’t help but crave a little more. You don’t even bother trying to stop the inevitable, you’re too far gone at this point. Might as well let your mind wander to what it needs to to finish the job.

After all, it doesn’t mean anything.

How long does he wait outside your door before dismissing himself? With his helmet’s capabilities he could certainly hear what’s going on in here, is he out there right now? Eavesdropping as you fuck your own hand. Is he straining against his flight suit as he stands on the other side of that wall. Acting like he’s there to defend you when in reality he just wants to listen in, give himself to think about later. Or is he just palming himself through his trousers, not wanting to wait.

Realistically he went back to his own chambers the moment you closed the door.

You might be giving yourself a little too much credit but it’s your fantasy so you get to think whatever you need to get you there. Like why is the helmet kind of hot now? Was it always hot or are you just really horny right now? There’s just something so erotic about not being able to see his face, not being able to read his emotions behind the steel facade he puts up. He’s got so many utilities and attachments, it must be hard to get through all the layers. Might be nice if he left most of it on, took off just enough to get the job done. Does he have cuffs? If he’s an ex-bounty hunter he probably has cuffs. You know he has a blaster and a bunch of other weapons you don’t fully understand, you kind of wish someone would ambush you just so you could see him in action. Honestly he’s so terrifying to most people you’re pretty sure you might go your entire life without being attacked. He definitely has cuffs. He could storm in right now, cuff your hands above your head and finish what you started.

His fingers would probably work better than yours. You rock your hips down against your hand now as you can feel yourself slipping just the tiniest bit closer to that edge. You haven’t seen his hands but you can imagine. Even without the gloves just one of his fingers was probably as thick as the two you were working in and out of yourself currently.

Maker, with the gloves on he would probably have to work to get just one finger inside you.

You cum embarrassingly fast at the thought. It actually catches you off guard as you grind your palm against your clit just so and you’re seeing stars, soaking your already drenched panties as you withdraw your hand and collapse in a heap onto the bed, wiping your fingers off on the sheets. (You don’t sleep in this bed anyway so who cares.)

You decide it’s best to ignore anything you thought about in your sex-crazed state. You can’t be held accountable for anything you think of to get yourself across the finish line, you aren’t yourself in those circumstances.

It doesn’t mean anything.

It can’t mean anything.

Minds wander, people think of all sorts of things when they’re blinded by lust. Hell, back home you’d once thought about a medical droid to get you there.

So it doesn’t matter.

And it certainly doesn’t mean anything, you were pent up, you see him all the time, now that you’ve taken care of it, it won’t happen again.

Now that you’ve taken care of that you’re sure you’ll be back to normal, no more day dreaming about unattainable men who you despise. You close your eyes for a few minutes. Chest heaving as you struggle to fully recover from your hasty orgasm.

You give yourself some time to just lay like that, eyes closed, trying to steady your breath, you probably shouldn’t sleep, you haven’t gone to dinner yet but after such a shamefully swift and powerful climax you're positively drained. (Literally and figuratively.) So it won’t kill you to close your eyes for a few minutes.

You don’t know how much time passes but before you even know what’s happening you're standing in front of the mirror, hair disheveled.

You can’t get your dress off, can’t twist your arms behind you to reach the corset laces. You don’t want to wake Elaine or Lysa, you aren’t sure how late it is but you just can’t seem to unlace the bodice by yourself, you’re considering just sleeping in the infernal thing at this point. In your struggle you don’t hear the door open but you watch in the mirror as a familiar silver figure envelops you. How long had he been out there? What the hell was he doing here at this time of night?

“You look like you need a little help there princess.” The familiar crackle of the modulator consumes your senses, watching in the reflection of the mirror you can see the slow and deliberate removal of his gloves as he undoes your bodice, with a practiced agility. Everything is fuzzy. You want so badly to drink in every part of him that he is willing to give to you but it’s almost too much for your brain to comprehend right now. He takes his time with it, like he’s drawing it out. Tenderly pulling every string loose until you can slip out of the gown with ease.

You let it fall to the ground.

He stares at you in your reflection, his large bare hands wrap themselves around your exposed midriff as you’re left only in your undergarments for his eyes to devour. He’s so leisurely about it, not wanting to miss an inch. His fingertips dance across the bare skin of your stomach, it takes every ounce of restraint in you to not arch yourself back against him, you can’t stand the way he makes you want to throw your dignity to the wind. With the two of you facing the mirror like this you can see everything. His thumb begins to stroke the lace of your bra ever so slightly while his other hand skims against your sternum. His touches were so light that if you weren’t having a physical reaction to them you wouldn’t even be truly sure he was touching you at all.

“Did you wear that pretty dress for me, princess?” Maker, you must have died and gone to heaven. His voice, his stupid voice. His stupid gravely voice that left you weak in the knees no matter how often you heard it. “You looked so good, I knew you’d wear green today, so eager to please me…” The baritone of it goes straight to your core, and speaking of straight to your core, his left hand is traveling downwards ever so gradually. “Tell me what it is you want.”

You suppose this is it, moment of truth. He wants to hear what you have to say. You could tell him to fuck off, right here, right now. And honestly you’re positive he would leave if you told him to. You’re married, unhappily. But that doesn’t make this okay. Nothing could make this okay. Except for the way his hands clamp down on your waist just hard enough to make you whine but not hard enough to bruise. Well, that’s enough to cloud your judgment enough to make this okay.

“Tell me.” His palms begin to knead the soft flesh of your abdomen and you swear the sensation of that alone has him groaning and rutting against you from behind.

This view is obscene, watching him grope you. It’s a real spectacle he’s making, holding you up on your shaky knees in front of the floor length mirror so you can see everything he’s doing to your body.

“Use your words, princess. Speak up.” You didn’t think his voice could get more husky; he's practically growling. It’s a good thing he’s supporting you slightly because his words make your knees buckle.

Oh he loves this, loves having you so unraveled by him that you can’t even tell him what you so desperately need from him. You can feel just how much he loves this against your lower back right now.

“I want to hear you say it, sarad'ika. ” And that’s all it takes to break your resolve. Those two words you couldn’t remember no matter how hard you tried, trickling out of his modulator and you’re willing to surrender to the feelings you’ve been fighting for longer than you’d like to admit. So you say it, you admit it out loud for the first time. You admit it to yourself for the first time.

“You. I want you. ”

And you wake up. Still in your dress, still laying on the edge of your bed, still alone.

Fuck.

Well, that might mean something.

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acciofanfics · 7 months

Text

An Arrangement - Regulus Black (Part One)

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Warnings: Arranged marriage.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: So, this is a rewrite of a series that was started on this blog a little while ago. I’ve fallen down a Regulus Black rabbit hole so expect plenty of more content about him 😆

The Black Manor’s sitting room was colder than she’d imagined it to be. Only a few feet from her, the fireplace crackled, illuminating the small and otherwise mostly dark space. The curtains were drawn, as were most of the others in the area, keeping away any prying eyes. The rise of the Dark Lord had brought suspicion to many of the older, more renowned pure-blood families.

Despite the fire, she shivered, and tried to steady her breathing. She tried to focus on the hideous floral couch she was currently sitting on, surely picked out by the matriarch of the Black clan, but her eyes wandered to Regulus, who occupied the space next to her. His presence did little to ease the wave of pure dread threatening to overtake her at any moment, as it was a reminder of why she was there in the first place.

Walburga, as well as her own mother had gone to a more private area to discuss the business aspect of their arrangement, leaving her and Regulus alone. She couldn’t say that she fully understood the logic. She and Regulus were old enough to commit to an unbreakable vow, but apparently too young to be included in the conversation regarding such.

An old wooden piano played itself in the corner, surely enchanted in order to keep them from listening in on what their mothers were saying. It worked, for the most part, but every once in a while, she could hear a laugh escape from either Walburga or her mother. Strange… she didn’t know they were capable of such a thing.

“You look quite thrilled.” Regulus’ hushed voice cut through the nearly deafening quietness between the two of them. The statement, she assumed, was meant to be a harmless attempt at conversation, but she couldn’t help but find it to be tone-deaf given the circumstances. How could she be? She hadn’t even been asked if she was content with essentially signing the rest of her life over to the Black family. In fact, any protest she made was met with a dismissive wave of the hand. After all, she should be grateful.it was every young witch’s dream to marry a wealthy (her mother was sure to emphasize that part) pure-blood wizard after finishing school; especially given the uncertain, trying times that they were living in. She’d just made it easier for her, given her supposed apathy towards developing her love life.

“And I suppose you are?” She raised an eyebrow. Her tone had come off a bit harsher than she’d intended, but she felt as though at least a little slack was deserved on her part.

“Sure.” He offered a charming smile, making her guilt towards the previous interaction swell. “I mean, why wouldn’t I be? I’ll get to be married to a woman that looks like you with little to no effort. Not to mention, there’s the added bonus that our children will be gorgeous.” She cringed at the mention of children, though she supposed that would be expected of her. She couldn’t decide whether she found his nonchalance to be infuriating or flattering in a way. At least she could take solace in that he didn’t find the idea of marrying her to be repulsive, though she couldn’t say the same for herself. It wasn’t anything against Regulus. She found him to be quite handsome, actually. She probably would’ve fawned over the idea of being so close to him if it had been under different circumstances, but that didn’t mean that she loved him. The issue came up with the fact that she didn’t know him. Their parents had been close, but that dynamic didn’t extend to their children. She wasn’t even sure if she’d had a full conversation with him until now.

“I suppose in a way, it would be easier.” She let out a soft, unconvincing chuckle. Whether he meant the words of flattery or not, she would never know, but it did help to lighten the mood just a little bit.

“Exactly. There shouldn’t be any in-law strife to worry about,” Regulus added.

“Definitely not. They know each other better than we do,” (Y/N) let out a scoff laced with annoyance.

“Well, I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to remedy that after today.”

“Yeah, our whole lives.” She averted her eyes from the boy.

“Oh, come on. I can’t be that bad, can I?” Regulus feigned offense, though when she glanced back over to him, she couldn’t help but notice a glint in his green eyes that suggested that perhaps he did feel somewhat slighted by the remark.

“No, not at all. You seem perfectly pleasant, actually. It’s just when I envisioned getting married, I just imagined it would be to someone I’d chosen for myself.” The elaboration seemed to momentarily appease the boy, though it wasn’t long before he spoke again.

“I always imagined that this was how I’d meet my future wife.” He shrugged, reclining back onto the sofa. “I suppose that’s why I never spent a lot of time dwelling on courting anyone. Although, I can say that I’m happy that it’s to you and not to some of the others that Mother suggested.” He shuddered.

“Well, I appreciate that, I think.” She furrowed her brow, trying to decipher whether it was meant to be a compliment. Regulus let out a soft laugh at her response, running his hand through the mess of black curls on his head.

“You’re quite cute when you’re confused, you know.” She pouted at the remark.

“You’d find me adorable in potions class, then.”

“Regulus, darling, bring (Y/N) into the dining room, we’re ready for the two of you.” Walburga’s voice turned her blood to ice. She’d almost been distracted from the reason that she was here in the first place, though she wasn’t sure how.

Regulus stood and her soon-to-be husband extended his hand to escort her. “Ready?” He seemed perfectly content with what was happening, she didn’t understand it. Even if he had envisioned this would be how his wedding day would go, wasn’t he the least bit worried? An unbreakable vow was a serious commitment; it was–well–unbreakable.

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose,” she murmured, accepting his hand. He guided her to the dining room and she couldn’t help but notice that his hands were softer than she’d imagined, and that she didn’t not enjoy the feeling of her hand in his. Even so, she wasn’t sure that they were at the point that marriage should be a consideration, but if it had to be anyone, she was more at ease with it being him.

As soon as they entered the room, it felt as though all of the air had been turned to molasses, determined to suffocate her. It was difficult to even draw a breath without it feeling as though her heart would explode from the pressure.

Their house elf, Kreacher, was in the corner, scrubbing the floor, though she was sure that he was focused more on the events about to unfold.

“Poor girl looks terrified.” Mrs. Black smiled, though the sentiment was laced with a twinge of annoyance, she noticed.

(Y/N) spoke quickly, to avoid any offense being taken by the older woman. “I’m sorry, I was just wondering if it hurt, that’s all.”

Walburga’s demeanor changed almost instantaneously. A relieved chuckle escaped from both her and her mother. As long as her lack of enthusiasm had nothing to do with Regulus, they weren’t concerned. She wasn’t surprised. Her own feelings hadn’t been a question throughout the whole ordeal, why would they be now?

She wished that she weren’t such a good daughter. Otherwise, she would’ve run away half an hour ago when they’d left her and Regulus. It meant a lot to her parents, though, and despite the fact that they didn’t care what she felt, she did care about their thoughts and feelings.

“No more than a sting,” Walburga explained, a grin on her face. She couldn’t tell if it was comforting or unsettling. The Blacks had a way of charming those around them, making it hard to determine whether their words were sincere.

Her eyes flitted to Regulus who wore the same unbothered expression that he’d had all morning. She laced her fingers with his once more and tried to ease the pounding of her heart. Every fiber of her being wanted to bolt, but she remained frozen in place as Walburga readied her wand, focusing on their intertwined hands.

“Okay, Regulus. Just like I told you, okay?”

“(Y/N), do you vow to become my wife after completing our studies, with the intention of starting a family and to love no other.” Regulus spoke confidently, as though it had been rehearsed, though she supposed it probably had. As he’d said earlier, this was always how he’d expected meeting his wife.

He shot her a small, rather sweet smile. His eyes never left hers as she spoke her own words of commitment. “Yes, provided you do the same.” The words felt like poison as they exited her lips. Regulus didn’t seem to notice her apprehension, or maybe he just didn’t care. That seemed to be a common occurrence lately.

“Of course.”

Walburga mumbled the spell under her breath and three streams of light emerged from the tip of her wand and wrapped around their conjoined hands. Walburga had been telling the truth, there was only a slight sting, no worse than the feeling of one of your limbs waking up after being asleep for a period. The sting didn’t linger for too long, but the nagging feeling of dread still hadn’t gone away.

That was it. There was no lasting indication of their now permanent bond, but she wasn’t sure if she would ever feel at ease again. She felt tears prick at her eyes, but she did her best to will them away. She couldn’t cry now. It was already done. The only thing crying would accomplish was further annoying Walburga and her mother.

“Perfect!” Walburga cheered, enveloping both her and Regulus into a hug. “Now, we must celebrate!”

She didn’t feel like celebrating. In fact, she didn’t feel much of anything. Her mother patted her shoulder and placed a kiss on her temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

She couldn’t figure out why that was. She hadn’t done or contributed anything to the pairing. It was all her mother and Walburga’s doing. Perhaps, Regulus was involved somehow as well, but he hadn’t given any indication that he had any more knowledge than she did.

“Kreacher, prepare the table and fetch the men,” Walburga ordered. The house elf obliged, placing the utensils and dishes at each seat before heading off to find Orion and her father. Why they hadn’t been present for the actual ceremony, she didn’t know. They were probably discussing matters of higher importance regarding the current political climate.

It didn’t matter to her either way. It was uncomfortable enough with those who were present, she didn’t mind not having extra eyes watching her being shackled to the Black clan.

Kreacher was back within moments, the two men in tow.

“So it’s done then?” Orion’s voice boomed, though there was no interest in the statement. This was clearly a match set up by their mothers because as it seemed, there was little to no concern from their fathers.

“Yes, it’s done.” Walburga said cheerily as they all took their seats.

“Wonderful,” her father clapped his hands. “Isn’t this exciting?” He looked to her. She nodded with a fake smile, though he didn’t notice.

“Are you alright?” Regulus’ breath was hot against her ear. She hadn’t even noticed that he was sitting next to her.

“Yeah, fine.” She didn’t mean to be blunt, but her brain couldn’t come up with anything more. “Just a bit overwhelmed is all.”

“My mother does tend to have that effect on most people.” Walburga was too busy chatting with her parents over the food that she didn’t notice Regulus’ remark. (Y/N) tried to hide the smile forming, but it was quite difficult given that she’d been thinking the same thing.

She was quiet for the rest of the dinner, merely pushing the food around her plate so as not to offend the chef (whoever that may be) by thinking that she hadn’t eaten anything. Regulus was far more outgoing, chatting with her parents about whatever topic they had landed on. She thought that they might like him more than her honestly.

She couldn’t say that she felt better about the situation once the dinner was finally over. In fact, she possibly felt worse. She had nothing against the Blacks, or Regulus, but she felt trapped. Every move she made henceforth would not only be monitored by her own parents, but by her in-laws and fiancee as well. The only part that made her feel slightly better was that she wouldn’t have to face Regulus again until they were at Hogwarts, so she had a couple of weeks to try and come to terms with her new life.

#harry potter imagine #fanfics #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter marauders #regulus x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black imagine #regulus black x reader #regulus black

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kitthepurplepotato · 7 months

Text

Chapter 6 - Bakugou is bad at feelings.

Summary: Katsuki calls a “Bakusquad SOS meeting” after freaking out about Y/N’s constant moping. The Menace gets ready for her rehabilitation week but shit goes sideways.

Well… at least she’s not alone.

Warnings: Swear words, descriptions of not being able to move, Bakusquad asks some questions about sex.

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Bakugou, why are we here.” Mina sighs as she tries to find a comfortable position. “And why do we need to do this in your meeting room?! What is this, even?!”

“You said I can always count on the stupid Bakusquad when I’m in need. I am in fucking need you pink idiot.”

Bakugou… assembled a meeting. By himself. With the Bakusquad. I know, it’s a shocker; but he is fucking desperate.

It has been a few days since the whole making out shenanigan and Katsuki can’t even look into the Menace’s eyes properly. He’s not avoiding his girlfriend per se; he says hello and goodbye, he brings her lunch and smiles when she eats it; but he might have a little issue with the whole intimacy thing… it’s just a bit much right now, okay?

He can make up for the lack of intimacy with other kind of things like acts of service or gifts or words of affirmation, at least that’s what his therapist told him.

Well…

His therapist is full of shit, because that was apparently the wrong thing to do because the Menace is fucking depressed now.

“You haven’t messaged us for months, Bakubro.” Sero adds helpfully. Well, no shit.

“Yet here you fucking are, Tape face.” Katsuki retorts. “If you don’t want to be here, there’s the fucking door.” Katsuki yells and… fuck, he can’t do this. “You know what? Meeting dismissed. See you all at your fucking funerals.”

“Hey, hey, let’s calm down for a minute, okay there, bro?” Kirishima stands up and comes around the table to give Katsuki’s shoulders a few calming taps. “We are all here for you, Katsuki, my man. The squad just misses you. It’s a normal thing to feel sad when your favorite bro cancels on you three months in a row.”

“Why the fuck are relationships so fucking complicated!” Katsuki slams his smoking fists on the table.

“Okay bro, talk to us. It’s fine. You are fine. We are all fine. Sorry for interrupting.” Mina sighs.

This is not going well.

“Sorry we’re late!” Deku and Half and half bastard barges in through the door, panting heavily.

“Hey.” Halfie mumbles. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

Why did he call the two to this meeting? Well, definitely not for advice; those two are the stupidest when it comes to relationships, but since Katsuki’s terrible quirk accident, he’s been trying to be a bit kinder to those two. When he was quirked by this villain called Anguish he’s been told off by baby Deku for all the terrible things he’s done to him and well… he feels terrible about it. So here they are. Yeah.

“My fucking girlfriend is depressed. I need some advice. Tell me what to do or whatever.” Katsuki sits down, defeated.

Half of the gang screams and there are so many questions flying around Katsuki can’t even comprehend a single one of them.

“Guys, let’s calm down and ask questions one by one.” Kirishima speaks up and fuck, Katsuki is so fucking thankful for his best friend right now. “Sero, you start.”

“You have a girlfriend?! Like an actual human being with feelings and stuff?”

“No, I’m dating a fucking blow up doll, Tape Face, honestly.”

“Is she fucked up in the head or something?” Mina mutters; Katsuki makes sure she won’t ask stupid questions again by sending an explosion to her face.

“That was really mean, Mina. I think I know who Kacchan’s girlfriend is and she’s an amazing person and Kacchan loves her very much. Kacchan almost lost his mind when she was gone due to a quirk for a day. She also jumped in front of Kacchan to save him that day.” Izuku reprimands.

“Actually, it’s not her.” Katsuki says with a shit eating smirk. Izuku pales completely.

“I… I’m so sorry Kacchan, I shouldn’t have made assumptions, I just… you two would be a really nice couple and you both care about each other and…” He starts to mumble, ashamed of himself and Katsuki can’t help but laugh at that.

“I’m just joking, Izuku, calm your tits. Of course it’s her.”

“Kacchan called me Izuku and joked with me.” He pales again, dumbfounded. “Oh my god… Kacchan!” Izuku jumps up from the chair, crying a river on the way to Katsuki’s seat. He jumps into Katsuki’s lap, his arms snaking around his shoulders as he cries.

“Jesus, nerd.” Katsuki sighs; he really wants to choke his past self for being an absolute ass to this annoying little prick. He can feel his fucking love overflowing after repressing it for so long. He can also smell smoke coming from Todoroki’s direction. “Go back to your seat before your boyfriend burns me alive.” Katsuki whispers into the green nerd’s ear who moves back to his seat begrudgingly; Todoroki is half frozen and half burning by the time he gets back.

“So everyone fucking knows about this girl but me, great.” Mina sighs, offended.

“Well, you literally just questioned his girlfriend’s mental well-being for dating him, I don’t think you have any rights to be offended.” For Katsuki’s surprise, it was Todoroki who called her out. How did he not realize how good his friends are? Katsuki wants to cry.

“Fair.”

“So Kacchan… uhm… what do you guys do in your free time?” Izuku asks first.

“Our free time? We see each other all day, she’s my assistant, you fucking know that.” Katsuki retorts, confused.

“Like, where do you go on dates? How often?” Kaminari tries to help.

“Dates? We don’t… date? We went to see the old hag the other day, does that count?”

There is a tiny “aww” coming from Mina. Okay, that’s good.

“Oh, so you guys just go to your place and hang out after work?” Sero jumps in.

“We are together the whole day so we don’t do any of that?”

The whole gang goes silent. Like, dead silent. Okay, what the fuck?

“So you guys do all the romance stuff in your office?! That’s nasty!” Mina makes a disgusted face.

“Fuck no, we… don’t do that kind of stuff in the office. No. Well, there was that one time we almost did but that was an accident.” Katsuki mutters, embarrassed. He feels like he’s missing something here.

“Wait…” Kaminari speaks up again. “So how often do you kiss her? And sorry to be so straightforward but… how often do you guys have sex?” The whole gang nods approvingly at that. What the…?!

“I kissed her a few days ago? We don’t do sex… yet. We hug… sometimes. I bring her coffee every day.” Katsuki says the last sentence proudly. The whole gang gawks, even Eijirou.

“Katsuki, what the hell, man?! You see Y/N every single day and you don’t even kiss her goodbye?” Eijirou shoves him angrily. Katsuki has no idea what he’s done wrong.

“Are you sure you like her that way, Katsuki?” Sero asks with actually worry in his eyes.

“What the fuck, yes, I fucking do. I fucking LOVE her ass! I wouldn’t be dating her otherwise! Am I really that fucking bad at this?!” Katsuki yells and his words are met with silence.

“Bro, she really fucking loves you if she haven’t broken up with you yet. This is really bad. Like, super-duper bad. I once forgot to give Kyouka a good night kiss and I had to sleep on the sofa then she broke up with me the next day.” Kaminari retorts, his voice deep and quiet like he’s telling a horror story.

“Okay that’s a bit dramatic, but yes Katsuki, you need to change your behavior really soon.” Mina reprimands.

“Ladies need love and affection, Katsuki. You need to cherish them, show them your vulnerable side, be open for anything any time. Even when you are busy, make sure to smile at her.” Sero adds helpfully.

“Hello kisses and goodbye kisses are really important as well, Kacchan. Otherwise, just touch them when you feel like you want to. And always reciprocate her touches. Always.“

“Yes, otherwise she’ll think you don’t like her anymore. And she will cry. There’ll be so many tears, Katsuki, so many… it never stops. It’s terrible.” Shouto adds with a shaky voice. Izuku grabs Shouto’s hands on the table in a soothing manner.

“I think that’s just me, Shouto. Y/N wouldn’t cry so much. She would probably just mope around and cry at home where no one sees.” Izuku says and that’s when it hits Katsuki; he really-really fucked this up.

“She’s moping around so much and I swear her eyes were red the other day. Fuck I need to fix this… oh my god, how do I fix this?!” Katsuki yells, panicked. No, his hands are not shaking, his muscles are just… spasming. Shut the fuck up.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Mina gives him a knowing smile, her eyes fond and happy.

“She’s the most badass woman I’ve ever met. She’s so annoyingly perfect, it blows my mind every fucking time. She can even kick my ass in a fight, like what the fuck? I feel all the shitty butterflies and all that jazz. It’s ridiculous. Fuck, I miss her so fucking much when she’s not in.” Katsuki whines. Then Kirishima’s phone makes an annoying sound; it sounds like he sent a message to someone.

“… aaaand, that’s sorted. I recorded your beautiful speech and sent it to her. Now everyone run before Katsuki explodes. Thanks for coming, let’s go for drinks next week, bye!” Kirishima is out of the door before Katsuki has time to comprehend what just happened.

Kirishima will need to call the maintenance again. Some of the windows magically exploded.

~•💥•~

You wake up to a message from Kirishima on this lovely Sunday morning; hero agencies don’t have the weekends off so you are just about to get ready and go in anyway so you are not sure what the message is about; maybe it’s because you had a few days off to get ready for the dreadful week ahead of you? Will he not be in when you arrive and wanted to give you a heads up?

Ahh, you should probably just check it instead of making up stories, but it’s too early for you to give a fuck.

After your first cup of coffee you finally check your phone; you click on the video and there he is, your beautiful boy with a not-so-beautiful frown on his face. Ahh, you miss him.

Okay, that’s not what you expected. Is it edited? It must be. There is no way the big Bakugou Katsuki aka Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight said any of those in front of other people. But wait, these people around him… are these his old friends?! What are they doing in your meeting room? Oh my god, is this the end of world? Another world war?!

Should you cry over the nice words or is this the time to put on your best clothes, so you can die pretty? Does it even matter if it’s the end of the world though? Will anyone find you? Probably not.

With that said, you take out your new favorite hoodie; well, technically it’s Katsuki’s but there no way you’ll give it back, it smells just like him after all. Apparently, the burnt sugar smell stays in his clothing even after washing if he’s used it for long enough. You can’t wait to get your hands on more clothing, you swear his scent is better than the fanciest perfume. You quickly finish your breakfast and make your way to the office; you are only supposed to start around 12 as you finished all your paperwork yesterday so honestly, the only reason your go in is to do your hours and be with your favorite blonde. Mostly… to see your favorite blonde. It’s not like you can see him anywhere else, can you? There is no fucking way you’ll ask him on a date, he would probably scream your head off for being an idiot, even though you are already heartbroken for not being able to see him for a whole week until your medical situation gets sorted. Maybe you should have told him about it… ahh, it’s too late now anyway, the big day is tomorrow and it would be way too sudden for him. Katsuki doesn’t like sudden things.

It will be fine. It will all be fucking fine.

You really need to stop freaking out…

“Good… afternoon? Morning? The fuck is the time? Ahh, it’s noon. Good… noon to you, girlfriend.” Katsuki mumbles as you come through the office door. Okay, something is definitely wrong.

“Are you… quirked or something?” You ask carefully, staring at your blonde companion as he slowly comes closer and closer.

“The fuck are you talking about?!” Katsuki yells. Okay, that’s more like it. “Can I not be… nice to my girlfriend?”

“No, you certainly can. Yeah. It will make me wanna kiss you though.” You grin at him but for your surprise, he doesn’t roll your eyes at you this time.

“Okay.” He murmurs as he stops right in front of you; in one swift move he grabs your hair and pulls you into the hottest kiss the world has ever seen; he tugs, he pulls, he grabs, he nips; you can’t help but whimper into his mouth and he answers with a low grumble as his tongue darts over your lips and barges into your mouth without a warning. Suddenly, he jerks away; you have a strong urge to grab the man and throw him on the sofa and but you decide against it; you don’t want to get into another awkward situation with Kirishima.

“Okay, that’s it for now.” Katsuki mumbles between two pants; he says that and he does indeed starts to walk back to his office desk but he stops midway and runs back to give you another peck. “Now I’m done.” Katsuki says with a red face, looking around the office like he wasn’t the one decorating it.

“Uhm… I got a video from Kirishima. I miss you too when you’re not in. A lot, actually.” You mumble shyly.

“You off from tomorrow?” Katsuki mumbles under his nose.

“For a week, yeah.”

“You know where I live.” Katsuki retorts and you look at him with a confused face. “Come over… when you miss me. Or not. Whatever. I don’t care. No, I do. Care, I mean. Ahh, fuck.” Katsuki continues mumbling then he shuts himself up by coming over for another cheeky kiss. “Fuck, how am I supposed to work like this?!”

Okay, something is not right. Something is definitely not right.

“Like what?” Your voice is full of worry. “Katsuki, what’s going on? You are scaring me! Like, it’s really nice, but it’s not how you usually behave?” You really don’t want to make him mad or make him feel like being so open about his feelings is a bad thing, but at the same time, you don’t want him to force himself to do this for you.

“You were so gloomy the last few days! Then you asked for a week off…” Katsuki rambles. “I still don’t know what I’ve done wrong so I asked the guys and they said I should be happy you didn’t dump me yet… I asked what the fuck should I do then and they said I should just hug you and kiss you whenever I feel like it, so I thought I’ll give it a fucking try but I want to kiss you and hug you every single minute, like what the fuck?! Since when am I the clingy asshole?!” Katsuki yells, ashamed of himself.

That’s it. You love him… So fucking much, it’s actually ridiculous.

“You are so silly, oh my god. I won’t dump you and I’m not mad at you for anything. I had a stressful appointment with my doctor so I was a bit out of it this week. And for your information, I also want to kiss you and hug you every single moment.” You smile at the hero.

“So this is just normal, basic ass lovey-dovey shit?” Katsuki asks with a face of a 5 year old boy who asked about sex for the first time.

“Yeah, just normal, basic ass lovely-dovey shit.” You giggle.

“I still don’t understand, but okay.” Katsuki murmurs, but finally, he manages to smile. “Now don’t look at me and do your work. I need to finish this assignment. Then I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you.” He pouts and you literally need to hide your mouth to stop yourself from making a high pitched, annoying noise. Since when is Katsuki so cute?! Oh my god, he is absolutely fucking adorable! Look at his little pout and the cute red cheeks and nose and oh my god, even the top of his ears are red?!

“I absolutely fucking adore you, Bakugou Katsuki.” You whisper under your nose.

“What?”

“Nothing. Finish your assignment.”

Damn, you really don’t want to be away from this madman for a whole week. Fuck, you want to stay with him so much.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Menace.”

~•💥•~

It’s the big day today. The day you don’t take your meds in the evening.

Needless to say, you are absolutely freaking out right now; you really want to have someone with you, someone who can hold your hands and tell you to stop being so terrified, but your bestie is out of the country and Katsuki… well, you definitely don’t want your boyfriend of a few weeks to see you like this. Whatever happens when the meds run out is not going to be nice.

The day goes by quite quickly; you do your weekly shopping for food because you probably won’t be able to get out of the house for a whole week, you put water and snacks all over the place in case shit goes terribly wrong and you can’t make it to the kitchen; you are absolutely ready for everything and now all you need to do is to wait it out. You still have a few hours to spare before the inevitable though so you decide to send Katsuki a message about something totally random, because you miss his grumpy ass. It only takes the blonde a second to actually read the message and another few more moments to call you instead of texting back.

“Move your fucking ass over to my place. Now.”

Katsuki yells into the phone and the line goes dead.

Well. This is not how you thought your first day being on holiday will go. Okay, calling it a holiday is a bit of a stretch, it’s more like a secret sick leave disguised as a holiday, but still.

You have no idea what to do right now. In a few hours you’ll miss your usual dose and things will probably go to shit the next day. You are quite sure nothing’s going to happen right away so technically, going to see Katsuki today is probably a good idea as you won’t be able to get out of the house for the rest of the week, but it does frighten you a little bit to leave the house in such a vulnerable state.

You do want to see Katsuki though and this is the first time he’s asked you over to his flat, so there is no way in hell you will decline his invitation.

That’s sorted then.

You put on a hoodie and some proper looking trousers and you are out of the door before you have time to think about all the stress that comes with skipping your medication.

~•💥•~

“What took you so fucking long.” Katsuki grumbles by the entrance of his fancy ass flat.

“Sorry?” You mumble but Katsuki cuts you off; his arms snake around your shoulders and hugs you protectively, mumbling profanities into your ear about hating everything and everyone.

You’ve never thought you will live for long enough to hear Katsuki whine about life while acting like a lovesick puppy. You fucking love it.

“Shitty day?” You whisper into your boyfriend’s ear, who only answers you by pulling you closer. “It’s okay now, I’m here to make your day even worse.” You giggle into his hair while you embrace the moping hero. Coming here was the best decision.

“Rookie mistake.” Katsuki finally grins and you can’t help but laugh while you push him away playfully. “Come on now, I wanna cuddle and shit.”

“Wow, you amaze me every day, Kats.” You giggle as you make your way towards his expensive looking sofa to plop down right away. “So what happened at work?” You ask, worried.

“It was boring as fuck. Paperwork. You weren’t there.” The blonde mumbles as he sits down next you; he doesn’t wait a single second before he pulls you close a little bit aggressively, but this is Katsuki, so you don’t take any offense. He also just told you he missed you, so needless to say you are in seventh heaven.

“What will you do without me for the whole week?” You ask quietly as your hand wanders on the blonde’s stomach.

“You will come over every day.” The blonde grumbles back and your stomach drops; you should have told him about your medical condition sooner. Fuck.

“Kats, I won’t be able to come over after tomorrow…” You mumble into your boyfriend’s chest. “The doctor wants me to stop taking my medication and I might not be able to move properly for the next few days…”

“What the fuck?” Katsuki pushes you away, angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Are you fucking kidding me?” He yells, and honestly, he is so fucking right. That was a really shitty move.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that, fuck!” You yell back, heartbroken. “It was stupid and selfish, I know that, but…”

“But what? Fucking what, you Menace?! I’m your fucking boyfriend!” Katsuki doesn’t stop yelling, and while you know you should probably tell him to stop, you can’t. “I’m supposed to be there for you! Take care of your weak fucking ass! That’s what I fucking signed up for! Am I not good enough for you or what the fuck?!”

“Kats, please stop yelling, I’m sorry. I just told you, didn’t I?!” Katsuki ignores you completely.

“When will you stop taking the meds?” He asks, only half-yelling this time.

“Today? I didn’t bring them with me. So…”

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say because Katsuki jumps off the sofa and starts pacing anxiously.”

“So you came over and then wanted to go home while off your meds, ALONE, in the middle of the fucking night?!” He yells again, and now that he said that out loud, it really sounds extremely stupid.

“I wanted to get a taxi…”

“You wanted to sit into a strangers car, when there is a possibility for you to not be able to make it to your fucking flat on your fucking legs?!”

Oh man. Oh man, you fucked up.

“It won’t kick in that quickly…”

“You don’t know that!!!” Katsuki retorts with a red face.

“You are right. I’m a fucking idiot. And I fucked up your already shitty day even more, so… I think I’m gonna go.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it, princess.” Katsuki spits through his teeth, completely mental. In only a few steps, he makes his way to his door and locks it with a code. Your whole body tenses for a few seconds, then some weird tingles go down your spine but it doesn’t make any sense because you still feel safe with him even if he closed the only exit for you, you shouldn’t feel so… frozen just because he’s trying to help you… unless…

“Kats…”

“Don’t talk to me right now.”

“Something’s wrong.” You mumble with teary eyes. Your whole body feels like it’s falling, but you are still sitting safely on the sofa. You try to move your arms and they do work, but the motion slow, like a sloth trying to reach the nearest branch. You try to take the remote in your hands but it falls back on the cushion when you try to lift it. Katsuki stares at you with eyes the size of saucers, absolutely terrified.

“Y/N?” Katsuki whispers right before he starts sprinting back to you.

Well, shit.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Wow, it’s happening! I’ve been sitting on this idea for ages and I couldn’t wait to write it down! I love how overprotective Katsuki is and oh my god, you guys will fall in love with him all over again when you see his reaction to the whole situation.

- Btw I absolutely love Izuku’s reactions to Kacchan’s (almost) nice words, I definitely need them to interact more in the future! Also, can we talk about jealous Shouto? Because I’m kinda low key in love with his possessiveness.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! Send me your thoughts, they always motivate me to write quicker! 💥

TL (just send a comment if you wanna be added!):

@sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugo x you #shenanigansbypurplepotato #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #soft bakugou #pro hero dynamight x reader

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pagesfromthevoid · 26 days

Text

A Real Nightmare | a.a. | 4

Astarion x fem!tav

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mildly suggestive themes. Nudity, almost sex, talking about consent and insecurities

Author’s Note: I promise I didn’t give up on this I just got distracted by the fuckin wizard

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

It wasn’t that they didn’t have a lot of alone time in the following days since Tav confessed her desire for Astarion. It was just that she had decided to let Astarion make whatever move he wanted first –if he ever made one.

While he admitted he found her attractive the other night, he told her that she “smelt like a wet dog” and couldn’t bear the idea of bedding her like that. Tav had rolled her eyes at his dismissal, chalking it up to him putting up the walls she had managed to break down. But she didn’t push him, and simply thanked him again for letting her use his tent and bedroll for the night.

“I suppose we could share until you get your own,” he had offered dismissively, waving his hand as he reopened his book.

And thus started a strange co-living situation that was a step above what they had already been doing. They had plenty of alone time in camp, with her sharing his tent each night. But Astarion either didn’t want to make a move or didn’t know he could —both of which made Tav’s heartache one way or another.

Following a particularly nasty fight against a couple of death Shepard (truly, could they catch a break?), Tav's magic had taken a rather chaotic turn, ensnaring everyone and anything that stepped too close to her. Karlach and Gale had gotten away just fine, though Astarion had briefly slashed at the roots to free himself. Even she was stuck in the vines that had appeared after a particularly powerful spell, preventing her from being able to help further than casting a fire bolt here and there.

“We could just leave her here,” Astarion suggested, standing right at the edge of the vines that tangled her up now.

“Astarion, you ass —,” she started, but was cut off by a vine jabbing itself into her calf and causing her to curse angrily.

“And risk you biting one of us, instead?” Karlach chuckled, hacking away at the vines. “C’mon, soldier. Simmer down so we can get you out.”

“If it was that easy,” Tav huffed in frustration, throwing her hands up. “I damn well wouldn’t be here.”

“Perhaps if you knew how to control yourself,” Astarion offered unhelpfully. “We wouldn’t be picking you from the bushes.”

“You are not helping, Astarion!”

“You have to remember that the power is within you,” Gale reminded her, smiling that know-it-all smile of his that Tav really didn’t want to see at the moment, even though she knew he meant well. “Your powers come from ancient forces of chaos. They churn within you —waiting to burst free at any time. You just need to take a deep breath and —,”

“I do not need a lesson in magic right now!” She snapped at him, only worsening the vines that wrapped around her. She held her breath for a moment, looking at the wizard. “Gale, I do not need to be reminded of what my magic does. I am painfully aware. You can teach me later.”

Then she heaved another sigh, looking to Karlach now as the tiefling broke through the original set of vines. Tav was able to shake loose the newest round, stepping clumsily out of the disaster.

Clumsily being the key word, as the moment she thought she was free, another root wrapped around her ankle. She yelped as she fell face first, but Gale was there in a beat, catching her before she hit the ground. The vine disappeared, leaving her clutching onto the front of Gale’s robes with his hands on her waist.

“Careful there, Tav,” he chuckled, helping her stand up right again. His hands sat just below her waist, firmly grounding her. “Can’t have you losing your balance now of all times.”

His hands lingered a bit longer than they needed on her waist —long enough that when she did pull herself away, she saw the annoyance on Asterion's face. She wanted to scold the vampire —he couldn’t be jealous or annoyed that someone else was willing to touch her if he didn’t do it himself. Or when he was being an absolute menace towards her instead of helping. But instead she stood up straight and ignored him and Gale entirely, pushing forward to the monastery.

“We should probably make camp,” Gale suggested as she and Karlach pressed on. “We need to rest if we’re going to get into the crèche without issue.”

“I hate it when he’s right,” Karlach snickered, elbowing Tav.

The sorceress gasped some at the singeing of her robes, looking up at her companion for a moment. Karlach looked sorrowful, apologizing frantically. But Tav broke out into an easy smile.

“Now I know how Astarion felt when I lit him on fire,” she laughed, looking at the burn hole in her side. “Hells, I guess we do need to set up —I can’t fight with this.”

“You certainly cannot compare your light burn to actually lighting me on fire,” Astarion sneered as he appeared at her side, eyeing the hole in her robes.

“Well, I can. And I did.”

*****

“I’m not fixing that for you,” Astarion stated as he entered the tent that evening.

Tav sat in her night clothes —something loose fitting and breezy, but easy to fight in if needed —with a needle and thread in her hand. She squinted with her good eye —the other having been stupidly (but voluntarily) replaced by the one Volo had when he tried to remove the parasite and thus felt too foreign to use still.

“Why would you?” She asked, threading the needle carefully. Her tone was curious, though her eyes were fixed on her task at hand. “Can you even sew?”

“Of course I can sew,” he sneered as he dropped down beside her, yanking the tool from her hand. “Unlike you.”

“Astarion, I don’t —,”

“Oh, be quiet.”

Tav grudgingly complied with his request, her irritation evident as she watched him work. However, as she observed Astarion's nimble fingers expertly maneuvering the needle, her annoyance gradually gave way to curiosity. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and leaning in closer, intrigued by his unexpected skill. Despite her initial skepticism, she found herself impressed by the effortless way he patched up the hole in her robes. There was a certain finesse to his movements, a hint of a life she couldn't quite grasp. It was as if he had once been accustomed to having others cater to his every need, yet now he was here, performing a task with a dexterity that surprised her.

“Where did you learn to sew?” She asked, watching curiously as his hands moved carefully but quickly around her clothes.

“When you’re a slave for two hundred years, you learn a thing or two.”

She blanched, words caught in her throat at his comment. Of course he had to know how to take care of himself and his things; she hadn’t even considered that in her little judgmental tirade.

“Hells, I’m sorry —I shouldn’t have —I’m an idiot.”

“You don’t need to apologize for something you weren’t even alive for,” he amended, though his eyes were fixed on her garments and he refused to look at her. “There’s plenty else for you to apologize for.”

Tav's brows furrowed as she mulled over Astarion's cryptic remark. Before she could press for clarification, he spoke again, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Though I must admit, it's quite the spectacle witnessing you and Gale, so cozy and chummy. Almost makes one wonder if there's more to your partnership than meets the eye. Or perhaps you're just practicing your innocent act for when you're not knee-deep in trouble," he quipped, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he finally glanced up to meet her gaze.

“Sweet hells,” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air. Tav's irritation flared at Astarion's insinuation, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze head-on. "You know very well, Astarion, there's nothing between Gale and me," she retorted, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I've made it abundantly clear who I want in this camp, and it's not some imaginary love affair with Gale."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wondering why Astarion insisted on needling her about nonexistent romances when the truth of her feelings was plain for anyone with eyes to see. Yet, despite her frustration, she couldn't help but notice the slight tension in his posture, the way his gaze flickered away before returning to hers with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability.

“I told you the other night –it’s you,” she reminded him, taking the needle and clothes from his hands, forcing him to focus on her and her alone. “Whatever you want, whatever you decide —I promised you that –but you haven’t decided anything. You feed on me every night, we share your tent, you’re fixing my damn clothes –but you cannot be jealous of Gale putting his hands on me when you won’t.”

Something dangerous flashed in Astarion’s eyes at her scolding, and suddenly she was being shoved to the floor of the tent. She was pinned beneath Astarion, whose thighs caged her legs in while his arms trapped her from above. His face was close to hers, close enough that their noses barely brushed against one another.

All the blood rushed straight between her thighs, heart racing against her rib cage as if trying to escape. For the first time since she met Astarion, she was seeing the spawn he was.

And it was all too alluring.

“Do you know why I haven’t touched you, Tav?” He asked, leaning in closer now. Baiting her, goading her into making the first move. But she shook her head, pressing herself further into the ground. “Because if I do, I will not stop.”

Clenching her thighs together, Tav couldn’t help the sound that escaped her lips –an almost lewd hum of desperation. Asterion's eyes were locked on hers, keeping her gaze from straying from the rubies that made up his irises.

“What if,” she managed to breathe out, tentatively reaching up to touch his cheek. The danger that Astarion presented melted just barely at her touch, softened the edges of his eyes, as she finished, “I don’t want you to stop?”

It was a heartbeat later, if even, that his mouth was on hers, tongue parting her lips to taste her. Tav moaned into his mouth, her hands reaching up to pull at his silver hair and tug him even closer. She tried to part her legs, to wrap them around him, but he still caged her in and he wouldn’t budge as he pulled away from her mouth to trail his lips over her jaw. Across her cheek, under her ear, then down her throat —right over the only spot he had touched her in weeks: the bruised bite marks on her throat.

Asterion's teeth grazed the spot, though he did not break the skin as she writhed under him. Her hands still had purchase in his hair as his tongue trailed down the column of her throat.

“Astarion, please,” she sighed dreamily.

“Please, what, darling?” He asked, voice muffled slightly by the skin of her throat. “Use your words for me.”

“Just —touch me, please. Anywhere —everywhere —Gods, please.”

Finally, one of his hands pulled her leg out from between his thighs, spreading her so he could fit there instead. Without hesitation, she hiked her leg over his hip, pulling him closer to get whatever friction against her core that she could. The feeling of him pressed against her forced a hiss from her throat again.

The hand that had pulled away was trailing up her leg now, over her knee and up her thigh. So close to where she wanted —where she needed him to touch. But instead, he continued upwards until his nails tugged at the laces of her pants and loosened them. She didn’t question the movement, instead lifting her hips and untangling herself briefly from him to shimmy her pants down and off.

“Eager little pup, aren’t we?” He teased as she finally let go of his hair to reach for his pants next. Astarion stopped her however, swatting her hand away. “Unfortunately, I want you bare before me first.”

She huffed in frustration, but it was replaced by another sigh as he slipped his hand under her shirt, cold fingers brushing over her heated skin until he was pinching her taut nipple. Gods, she was thankful for the fact that she stopped wearing her undergarments to bed (entirely in case of a moment like this, if she was perfectly honest).

But if he wanted her bare, then he would get just that —anything to get him to touch her more. And so she reached back down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, throwing it to the side.

“Wait,” she breathed out, fingers stilling along the waistline of his pants.

Astarion pulled back slightly, eyes darting between her hands and her face, frowning deeply. One of her hands reached up, resting against the pale skin of his chest.

“I just —I need to know that you actually want this, Astarion,” she admitted, dropping her hand from his waistline, as if to show him she wasn’t moving forward without him. “I know that’s ridiculous and I’m already naked and you’re literally on top of me but —,”

She let out a surprised yelp when he kissed her again —but it was softer than before; careful. He didn’t deepen it, though, and instead pulled away just enough to look down at her once more.

“How is it you care so much about what I want when you’re getting exactly what you want?” He whispered, nudging her nose with his.

“I told you, I want —,”

“Yes, yes —you want what I want —but do you know how annoyingly sweet you are? How you just…you ruined my plans and now you’re stopping me from giving you what you want because you care so damn much about what I want —,”

“Wait, what? What plans?” She interrupted, pushing herself away from him some, grabbing her shirt to try to cover herself up as she stared at him.

Astarion sat back on his knees, pursing his lips some as he realized that he had given away more than he meant to.

“I just —,” he hesitated a moment, looking down at his hands for a moment before shaking his head. “Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan —seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. It was easy —instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you.”

“Astarion, what are —,”

“Shush,” he scolded, narrowing his eyes down at her as she sat up. “This is…this is where my nice, simple plan fell apart. Tav…you’re incredible. And you deserve something real.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Tav clutching her shirt to her chest as she processed Asterion's confession. What it sounded like he was saying was that whatever this was —whatever was happening between them —wasn’t real. And that realization squeezed her heart tight in her chest as she started to put her clothes back on.

The tent was suddenly too small; too cramped. She was overwhelmed and naive, just like he had thought weeks ago when they met. And she needed to get away from him as she tried to stand and hurry out.

“I’m sorry, Astarion. I should have —I didn’t —,”

But he grabbed her wrist, quick to stand and pulled her back to him.

“Tav, stop,” he demanded, though he didn’t sound all that convincing. “You deserve something real —I want us to be something real.”

Asterion's fingers flexed against her wrist, before he finally pulled her back into his embrace. Tentatively —almost timidly —he wrapped his arms around her waist and back, looking down at her with soft, crimson eyes.

“I…I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what comes next, or what to do. And the idea of…intimacy or sex, I don’t…I don’t know how to separate the good and the bad. But I know that…I want you. All of you.”

Tav's touch mirrored his, reaching up to run the back of her hand against his cheek. He melted into her touch, leaning into it as he closed his eyes. He was so vulnerable in this moment; the walls he had spent so long hiding behind were breaking down and Tav’s heart ached at the thought that he was scared of her —of her rejection, of her feelings.

“I want you too, Astarion,” she promised, pressing her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and guiding him closer. Her nose brushed against his as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t need to sleep with you to know I care about you. Whatever you need —however long you need —I can wait for you.”

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to catch a lie. While it hurt, not knowing if he truly believed her, she understood the fear. After everything he’d been through, there was more reason to assume the worst than not.

“You are more than what your body can do,” she promised him, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

“I…,” he paused, swallowing down whatever he was going to say, before pulling away. “I’m afraid I may have ruined the mood, darling.”

She waved off his concern, laughing at the idea. “The only mood I’m in is for a cuddle. How does that sound?”

Astarion smiled —a real, soft smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes —and he nodded. “A cuddle…sounds nice, actually.”

Tav grinned up at him before pulling away from his embrace –not enough to stop touching him; her fingers trailed down his arm until they latched onto his fingers –so she could take over his spot on the pillows he’d piled up. Although hesitant, Astarion slowly joined her in the mess of pillows, about to lay back when she pulled him into her arms. He seemed surprised by the notion that she would be holding him and not the other way around, but he didn’t argue as she wound one arm around him and held him close to her chest. The other found his hair, running her nails over his scalp and she swore he purred at the touch. She’d keep that in mind.

Melting into her embrace, Asterion's arms wrapped around her middle, holding her tight against him as if she would disappear. What she would give to be able to read his thoughts in this moment; to know if he felt safe like this; if he felt loved like this. Because that's what she wanted –to give him that safety, that love that he so desperately wanted; that he deserved.

Perhaps he heard her thoughts himself, because as she drifted off into a restful sleep, she heard him murmur into her skin,

“Thank you.”

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion bg3

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luckbealincoln · 11 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter three : the smitten paladin

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : reader does some reading

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You don’t care. Why should you care? Why the hell are you already sweating? Nothing has changed. He did one nice thing for you, so you forgive him. But you still don’t care.

“Good morning, Mando.”

He takes his time, observing your mood, his visor trained on you. You suddenly feel feverish.

Almost.

Because you get to chapter six, and suddenly, the book is… raunchier than you expected it to be.

And it’s sweltering in the library out of nowhere and you’re pretty sure you can’t blame Naboo this time.

You’re hyper aware of him now.

You should close the book, take a break, get some water.

But you don’t.

You can’t do this.

But… you have been neglecting certain urges of yours since arriving on Naboo. And now it’s been over three weeks and to say that you’re pent up would be putting it lightly.

This is the part where you remind yourself to stop.

Or…

He’s also quite rough with her when he needs to be.

You can’t help but wonder if Mando is similar to Oskar in that regard as well.

Okay you definitely can’t do this.

So you think about Oskar. Just Oskar. Stare at the pages of your book and think about Oskar. Tall, dark, and handsome Oskar.

Not you.

Dorthea.

Not him.

Oskar.

Think about Oskar.

Oskar. You’re thinking about Oskar.

For Makers sake think about Oskar.

It’s unbearably hot now, and people sweat when they get hot.

That’s what you tell yourself when you feel a wetness pooling in a place you cannot think about right now lest you tear your dress off right here in front of him in the library to deal with it.

Because you hate him. Obviously.

You definitely aren’t thinking about Oskar right now.

This doesn’t mean anything.

Does he ever think about your needs when he’s satisfying his?

Don’t.

You have to say it to yourself now.

“Why don’t you try sounding it out.” He catches you off guard, unmoving as he speaks.

“What?” Maker, are you panting? Pull yourself together woman.

“I assume you’re stuck on a word, you’ve been on that page for nearly 15 minutes. Try sounding it out.”

Usually this behavior from him is the perfect thing to stop any untoward thoughts. Why isn’t it working? Why do you suddenly wanna shut him up in a completely different way?

“You’re a funny guy, have you considered being a comedian or do you just really like being a glorified babysitter?”

“I really like being a glorified babysitter.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You loathe him.

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

“How’s the book?”

Great.

“It’s good. Thank you for returning it to me…”

“I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why not? You have no idea what I like.”

“It might be a little too intense for you.” You raise a single eyebrow, his move.

“Oh really? How so?” He leans back in the chair now. For Makers sake does he have to spread his legs so obscenely wide.

“Isn’t there some kind of Mandalorian vow of celibacy?” You have no idea but you plaster a naive look on your face.

“Nothing in the creed about that, princess.” How does he make the word princess sound so vulgar? Why is there a rush of molten heat through your veins when you find out he isn’t celibate.

This doesn’t mean anything.

“Just the helmet.” You knew that, of course, but it’s still a shame. You’d love to give his mouth something to do other than taunt you.

You need to get out of this library.

“Oh.” Great quick thinking. Real impressive comeback you moron.

“So?”

“So…?”

“The book, what’s it about?”

“It’s a cute little love story about a girl and a knight.”

He hums softly like he’s considering something while you consider lobbing the book at his head.

“Sounds charming.” Not a good sign that you can hear the derisive tone through the modulator already. “So what are you stuck on?”

It works, he’s silent. Too silent, you worry you’ve gone too far again but after a few beats the modulator crackles to life once more.

“Didn’t realize the book had pictures, I must have missed them.” He crosses his arms and tilts his head ever so slightly.

“You read this?” You don’t bother hiding the disbelief on your face, he already knows he’s got you so what's the point.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you how it ends.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to spoil the happy ending.” Is all you can mutter out as you make haste towards your chambers, refusing to look at him the entire way.

This doesn’t mean anything. ✩

After all, it doesn’t mean anything.

Realistically he went back to his own chambers the moment you closed the door.

Maker, with the gloves on he would probably have to work to get just one finger inside you.

It doesn’t mean anything.

It can’t mean anything.

Minds wander, people think of all sorts of things when they’re blinded by lust. Hell, back home you’d once thought about a medical droid to get you there.

So it doesn’t matter.

And it certainly doesn’t mean anything, you were pent up, you see him all the time, now that you’ve taken care of it, it won’t happen again.

You don’t know how much time passes but before you even know what’s happening you're standing in front of the mirror, hair disheveled.

You let it fall to the ground.

“Tell me.” His palms begin to knead the soft flesh of your abdomen and you swear the sensation of that alone has him groaning and rutting against you from behind.

“You. I want you. ”

And you wake up. Still in your dress, still laying on the edge of your bed, still alone.

Fuck.

Well, that might mean something.

#din djarin smut #din djarin / reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic

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haloxsaisha · 1 year

Text

So Good.

[Lewis Hamilton x Actress!Reader]

Based on: So Good by Halsey.

Warnings: Angst, Abu Dhabi and Monza 2021 (I'm so sorry), some fluff, few cheesy dialogues (cause I'm a dumbass), depression, insomnia, eating disorder and weight loss.

Word Count: 15.5K words (I've never written this much in my life so far, I'm so proud of myself).

A/N: My first Lewis fic, I wasn't expecting it to be done with during the Abu Dhabi race week but oh well💀 I'm personally quite happy with how this turned out! I hope y'all like it <33

Bold and italicized font: song lyrics.

Italicized font: flashbacks.

“I remember the night, I was so frustrated.”

You could only bury your hands, head filled with shock and completely blank.

You never thought this would ever happen to anybody, let alone just him. Nobody who had watched the sport did.

Everything inside you began to sink in the moment the whole mess about unlapping the cars started and as the rest of the race unfolded, you felt yourself crumbling.

Lewis staying in his car in silence, in disbelief at the parc ferme had been playing on your mind again and again.

You were supposed to be there. You had to be there for him.

You had apologized to him multiple times for not being there in a championship decider race, especially at a win that was so historically important but he dismissed your countless apologies saying that he could understand. You had been shooting for a movie in London since November, which also meant that you hadn't met each other in more than a month, work and COVID restrictions making its way in. There was one thing that you and Lewis always stood by, which was that your jobs would be given the first priority. Understandable from both sides because your works usually involve a lot of people, meaning that compromising on it was quite hard and it was also very important to both of you from an emotional perspective, although you had to admit the Formula 1 driver was reaching an equivalent position to your work in your heart.

You watched him speak in the post race interview and then the moment he shared with his father, leaning his head as he took in the encouraging words being whispered in his ear. He had always been so strong and it was something you admired about him.

You sent him a message (which you hoped would provide a bit of comfort), mentioning that what happened was unfair, he deserved that win after everything he'd been through the entire season and that night and how proud you were of him. Also adding that he could call you when he felt like doing so because he wouldn't be in the headspace to talk to people at the time.

Seven hours later, you were done with your scenes for the day at ten in the night. The first thing you did after entering the vanity was checking your phone and your message to him was still at 'delivered', which increased your worry and anxiety.

After a bit, you got the idea of dropping a message to Angela, who was somebody you were close to too. You knew the Wolffs, Miles and Daniel, you even met his parents, stepmum and his siblings too when you'd been to the Silverstone race but Angela was somebody you bonded along with very well. She was one of the sweetest persons you'd met and also took care of you like an older sister would whenever you were around.

But you'll only get a response a while later since it's probably the wee hours at Abu Dhabi right now, you thought as you sighed. The race and your work has already drained out all your energy and despite your mind being absolutely restless because of how anxious you felt, but you had to drive yourself to sleep somehow. The director wouldn't be happy seeing her lead actress with puffy eyes and barely any energy the next day.

By the time you landed on your bed, it struck midnight and your phone let out the notification sound, showing the message from Angela which said that Lewis wasn't doing great and hadn't spoken to anybody yet.

Now how were you going to be able to sleep after knowing that?

“I touch your hand for the first time, I see it on your face, then another lifetime's flashin' by.”

"You see the star there? That one's called Sirius." he tells you, pointing to a specific region in the night sky.

"I didn't peg you to be somebody who was familiar with Harry Potter references, Hamilton." you give him a surprised, yet impressed look.

"There's a lot more to me than meets the eye darling, you'll see." he tells you cockily and you playfully rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

"This might just be one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen." you said in awe, your eyes fixed at the sparkling stars laid on an endless canvas of the dark blue sky.

"Mhm yeah, it definitely is." the sweet and distracted voice of the man who'd been surrounding you and your thoughts for the past couple of months came through and you turned your head towards him, finding him looking at you.

You felt your cheeks heat and you could only let out a giggle in response, not knowing how to respond because of how flustered he made you feel.

Lewis Hamilton was definitely a lot more cheesy than one would ever assume.

"I'm sorry I couldn't plan anything fun, there's pandemic restrictions so everything around is almost shut." he apologizes and you melt at how heartful he sounds about it.

"Don't be ridiculous Lew, I've loved every moment of this date so far." you assure him with a soft smile. Star gazing with somebody you've admired for so long as a first date was something that nobody could beat.

"Well, how can I make the date better?" he asks and your eyes light up in silent laughter thinking he's joking but then you look at him, it turns out that he was actually being serious.

Dear god, what type of dates had this man been on?

"Well that's a hard one because I feel like the date has already met the standards." you pretend to think for a moment "Maybe you could let Roscoe join us?" you ask him, giving him a grin which made him fall for you even more.

"Now that's not fair." he playfully whines "This time is for us. He loves you too much, will take away all your attention from me." he said, referring to all the times the both of you spend with your mutual friends. He was right, the bulldog did take a lot of your time.

"Well I've at least gotta win over one heart right?" you said, reflecting your doubts about him considering if the thing between the both you was anything serious or not.

"Well in that case, his heart will be the second one you've won over from this house." he said and you looked at him, your eyes softening with warmth and your cheeks turning red as you move closer to him.

He feels it too, you thought as he wrapped his arm around you, making you sigh in bliss.

Nearly two years later, the morning after the catastrophic race, the first thing you saw after waking up were the words "I don't think I can do this anymore, I need some space and time away." on your phone and at that moment, you had been absolutely destroyed.

It felt like everything in you had just been dropped down and shattered without any noise, you just feel so hollow and empty on the inside.

You couldn't ridicule him for feeling devastated, anybody would understand how much yesterday meant to him and how it affected him even if they didn't know him personally.

But you believed that you were comfortable enough to be with each other through any situation, happiness or despair. You believed that he found the same comfort, solace and safety that you found in him.

But it turns out that he didn't. The both of you went all the way from a video call like a regular couple would before the race to a text like somebody that didn't really mean anything to him a later, he pushed you out.

“I bet you're happy and that's fine. But I regret just one thing, I never got to change your mind”

He'd been back on the screens for the next season. Despite all the news about him discontinuing racing, you knew he'd go back.

Racing was everything to him, it was quite literally everything he'd known. He'd spoken openly about the struggles that him and his dad faced to reach where he was in the racing industry.

He knew how to rise up from the worst moments, he always had it in him.

You were still a mess. It had been almost three months since the text which broke everything in you. But there he was, having interviews with his teammate, a happy grin on his face.

Being an F1 fan for a long time, you always kept up with whatever news was on about the grid and Lewis had quite the spotlight when it came to headlines about his professional life or personal life.

You knew that he wasn't really the person for serious relationships after a point in his career. All of his focus was on Formula 1, rightfully so, which was why one night stands and short flings were what he went for.

You knew that even before you met him, you knew it whilst being friends but you still agreed to date him despite that one thing freaking you out. He had a hold on you, such an aura around him. You were always in this bubble of happiness, positivity and peace when you were with him.

Although his past relationships made you think about a lot of 'what if-s', how could you say no to a guy who made you feel like that?

Well, this was the consequence of giving in to emotions rather than logic. Your heart had been shattered like fritted glass, while he was back to normal like the break up was nothing but a minor collateral damage.

Work was always a top priority but all those moments that the both of you shared had a lot of meaning right?

“And I'm doin' okay. In the back of my mind, all I hear is your name”

The last time you slept well was the night before the Abu Dhabi race. You were normally a light sleeper, which gave you a pretty decent amount of sleep to feel good the next day.

But ever since that night, your sleep had come down only a few hours every week. You'd just walk about the room feeling restless, scroll through your phone or laptop or the television to pass time, there were some days where you just stared at the ceiling, the thoughts in your head just rushing in with memories of Lewis and you'd end up bursting into tears, sleeping over taking you after your eyes would turn red and puffy. And after two or three hours, you'd be awake again, tossing and turning around the bed.

And it was safe to say the sight of food started making you feel sick, your face would literally scrunch at the sight of it. But you still had to eat a minimum amount of food that would help you survive a day at work. Completely cutting out on food, which you had the urge to do, would completely affect the image on you and your career, which you felt was too risky.

Everybody had noticed you spiralled down, you could feel it too but you just stopped caring about anything after a point, you just felt so empty in your head to push yourself. Acting was the only thing that had you taking steps forward in life.

Soon enough, there were articles out on the news about you, commenting on the drastic weight loss that had been noticed in you, caused by the change in your eating habits. Your fans also began to notice how your use of social media had come down drastically, since you always had the habit of interacting with them frequently and also shared random pictures and videos from your day at work, especially if it was in a place far from home.

And that made the pressure from the people close to you increase. After getting to know about your break up with Lewis, your parents and close friends urged you to talk more, to let out how you were feeling. But you always convinced them by saying that you were alright, that you understood why he needed the break up and you just went along with life, your work satisfying you at the moment.

The moment you came back home after you were done with the movie you were working on for the past couple of months, the first thing your mum did was make you sit next to her and reminded you of all the hard times you'd been through, of all the people you had in your life who still cared for you and loved you, about how there were people out there who admired your work.

And that's when it struck you, that yes, you did lose a particular feeling love in your life. But there was so much more to life that made living your life whole heartedly rather than making it more painful for you, more that you'd already been through because of your heart getting broken by a certain British man.

You took a small break from your work and the fast life around you, spending the time with your family and friends, parallelly going to therapy as well. Although the scar of that heartbreak was always going to remain, the slow paced yet quality time helped your wounds heal little by little.

And then you were back to work, feeling better than you'd been for the past couple of months. You were able to breathe freely, feeling the light weighted space in you.

But there were still certain things that reminded you of him. One day, you saw a bull dog being taken on a walk by its owner, your mind would fly to how Roscoe would lie down in between you and Lewis, snuggling in the night. The smell or sight of tea would remind you about how the both of you would keep arguing about whether tea or coffee was better, you loving coffee and him being always so British and loving tea. But nevertheless he knew how to make coffee the way you liked it and you knew the same for his tea. The sound of a piano would remind you of the times he would play it and sing his favourite songs, even teaching you the basics of how to play it sometimes. Stargazing and watching Formula 1 was something you just stopped altogether, not being able to handle the intensity of the emotions it brought in you.

If there was anything that made you feel relieved now, it was about how it didn't hurt as much as it used to and how the control he had your thoughts had come down.

"Talkin' wildly out of context, I wish things were different. But I'll never know”

What the hell just happened, you thought as you looked at the screen of the TV in the garage.

It took you everything to not break into a string of curse words but if anything, you were really worried if Lewis was okay.

The man literally had a car on top of his with the tyres nearly touching his head, dear god.

And you had no clue how he would react after coming back to the garage. He wasn't the one to tantrums but was he somebody who just stayed quiet? Did he deal with the anger he felt? Would he like having anybody around him to comfort him? Or did he prefer being alone?

You had spent a good number of days with him, an amount of time that could turn into a bunch of months if you added them up, but all the races you'd been to for the past year were always good ones. You were there when he won his seventh world championship but this was the first time you were around during a bad race, a one with a scary DNF.

He didn't know you were here for the race. Due to the COVID protocols, you had to quarantine for a few days before being able to meet Lewis and you didn't have a break or gap of that many days that often which made being at his races quite hard. So you thought that you could surprise him at the Monza GP, coming into the garage after he got into the car.

What you planned was to hide in some corner of the Mercedes garage and meet him in his driver's room after he went there, yelling a cheerful "surprise!". But you obviously couldn't do that now, considering what just happened. How you would meet him was barely on your mind now, you were scared about how he was after the crash.

"Hey, he's back in his driver's room. You can go and meet him now." Angela came and told you, a few minutes after you were restlessly tapping your feet up and down.

"Oh thank god, how is he? No injuries right?" you ask her anxiously, a shaky breath leaving your body.

"He's alright now, nothing serious has happened to him. He has some headache and pain in the neck, he'll be back to normal in a matter of some time." she assures you, giving you a comforting smile and places her around your shoulder, knowing how worried you get about him.

"Would he be alright with having me around now Ange? I think he'd want some silence for now." you said, giving her an unconvincing smile.

"Don't be ridiculous, he just had a scary race. None of his family and close friends are around now either, he'll obviously love to have you around now. You'll make his day better and he'll calm down." Angela convinces you and you walk towards his driver's room, still debating in your mind if you should step in or not.

Angela knocks the door and speaks out so that Lewis thinks it her, rushing towards the team before Lewis opens the door so that the both of you can have your space.

The sound of the room's door opening brings you out of your over thinking. "Um, hey?" you tell him in a shaky voice, eyes scanning over him to see if he was alright. Of course Angela wouldn't lie to you but for some reason, it wasn't sinking in your mind until you saw him.

His eyes widened in surprise "You're here? Wait a minute- you're actually here." he says and his reaction made your nerves calmed down a bit.

"Well, the plan was to keep a rather happy surprise." you say, giving him a weak smile "If you want to be alone for some time, I'll go back and sit with Ange, I totally understand-" he cut off your rambling by taking your hand in his and pulling you in for a hug.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm glad you're here. C'mon in." he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his forehead on your shoulder "missed you and that scent so much." he mumbles as you place your hand through his braids, running your fingers through his hair to calm him down, like he always liked it.

"I can feel your heartbeat and it's going crazy. We've been together for a year and I still scare you?" he teases you, referring to the initial days of knowing him. Timid was an understatement. Having been a huge fan of the sport and him for years before you first met him, you always shared many shy smiles and few words with him, scared that your rather talkative side which always went on rambling would annoy him.

"I don't know- that just, that was scary. I'm so worried baby, the tyre was literally so close to your head." you sighed as he sat on the couch, placing you on his lap.

"Stuff like this happens time and again in racing, you've watched it over the years. At that moment I tried to shuffle inside the car as much as possible and lowered my head down, so nothing from the car reached my head. Don't worry sweetheart, I'm totally alright." he says, rubbing circles on your waist in the hopes of calming you down.

"Ange told me you have a headache and neck pain though, don't lie to me." you mumbled, pushing away the braids to a side and placing a small kiss on his forehead. He just gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes signifying that it'll be gone soon and he places his head on your shoulder, snuggling in for comfort as you placed your hand on his back and rubbing it up and down.

Thinking of the memory from that day made you wonder only one thing. Would the both of you still be together if you were together? If he would've seeked your comfort or just push you away nevertheless.

You guess you'd never know, Monza was one DNF while what happened at Abu Dhabi was something brought in such loss and affected his perspective about his career and life.

You knew it didn't end well, there were so many things left unspoken between the two of you. It was bad, but both of you would've been so good together.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x actress!reader #lewis hamilton one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #saisha writes #f1 imagine

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katerinaaqu · 14 days

Text

Continuing from Part 2

Guilt (P3 + Footnotes)

"Odysseus" Meriones approached him, "Are you alright?"

Odysseus winced in pain. He hadn't realized he had clenched his fist so hard that it hurt him. He unclenched it.

"Yes..." he whispered, "Yes, I'm fine..."

Odysseus moaned. That baby...the look at that infant's face...Astyanax was gone...he had given his place to Telemachus. Priam's slain face was Laërtes...mourning Andromache was his wife... He grasped his head with both hands.

"Damn you Neoptolemus! Damn you Helen for starting it! Damn you Menelaus for dragging me into this... Damn you Palamedes! Damn you all! Why should I have taken this blood upon me?! Why did it have to be me?!"

He sighed.

"Polites...I want to be alone for a little while..."

"Do you think that is wise...?" Polites asked with hidden meaning.

"Wise!" Odysseus voiced like an echo, "No, perhaps not but I got tired of being wise for now..."

Polites sighed.

"At least add some water to your wine...please Odysseus"

Odysseus dismissed him with a move of his hand. He wasn't much in the mood for anything at that moment. He knew war wouldn't be pleasant but these events of just one night were taking the cake. He was exhausted; sleepless for two nights and a full day and right now the Sacker of Cities, the Man of Many Ways was terrified. He collapsed again and his tears overflowed from his eyes, wetting the table below. He grasped his wet hair with his fingers as if he was ready to uproot them.

"Gods! Please Athena, please, I beg of you...if you love me...p-protect my son! Let the miasma fall on me! Not him! I-I...I just wanted to g-go home! I just wanted to see them again...my Penelope...my Telemachus...! I-I never meant for this to happen! P-Please...! I beg of you if you love me...p-protect my son! Don't let the gods' wrath fall upon their heads! P-Please...! F-Forgive me! I...I just...I just wanted to go home!"

He couldn't decide what to pray for first... Words cascaded out of his mouth without any coherent way or syntax. He only prayed desperately, wetting with his tears the table. Sun was already setting and Troy was taken...but at what cost...

Menelaus and Agamemnon entered Odysseus's hut one after the other.

"I gotta give it to you, Odysseus!" Agamemnon said, "You WERE telling the truth when you said you could take Troy in one night!"

Odysseus was collapsed upon his chair, looking at them with an unreadable expression to his face. The jug was resting empty somewhere after the feet of his seat.

"Hm..." he hummed, "That's me. I am the trickster, remember? I lie, I scheme and I trick. That is what I do"

Agamemnon raised a brow.

"Are you drunk?!" He asked in disbelief

"One more shame to add to the events of this night..." Odysseus replied bitterly.

"Shame? I do not understand. We finally sacked the city. You can finally go home."

"Home..." Odysseus whispered, "I wonder...what shall I say to Penelope when she asks? Or Telemachus? If he asks 'father what did you do and you were away?', 'I was at war, my son', 'did you fight honorably and sack many cities?'... What shall I say for what we've done...?"

"I do not understand you Odysseus. It was your idea"

"Yeah somehow I do not doubt it..." Odysseus mumbled bitterly, "I was wrong, Agamemnon. This was not what I imagined...what I planned..."

He sighed shifting his position a bit to his chair.

"Priam is dead, you know that..."

"Yeah, like we expected to-..."

"On the altar. On the freaking altar, Agamemnon..."

"Yeah I heard..."

"Imagine that happening to any of us...in our homelands. If one cannot respect the holy laws then what?"

He played a bit with his empty cup.

"Priam murdered on the altar...Cassandra raped mercilessly and now Ajax looks for shelter to the very same altar he dragged her out of, to avoid being stoned to death..." the king of Ithaca rubbed the bridge of his nose, "...death...death and fire everywhere..."

"Odysseus..." spoke Menelaus, "I understand that you are grieving, it was not easy or pleasant but..."

"The boy...he was the same age as my son! Thrown off the wall..."

"Odysseus" Agamemnon spoke again, "I honestly don't understand you. Others would fly from joy with your glory. You had a good plan and it worked. Thanks to you we can all go home."

Odysseus's eyes became bottomless. Even Agamemnon had to lower his gaze against it.

"The blasphemy put us under the anger of gods, Agamemnon. Remember that. Listen..."

Agamemnon seemed like indeed trying to listen something.

"The Trojans are not the only ones mourning. We lost many good men too. We lost Achilles. Or have you forgotten?"

Agamemnon sighed deeply.

"His loss...was tragic indeed" he finally said, "we had our differences but his loss was a great price..."

"Quite so..." Odysseus whispered, "was it really worth it? The price we had to pay to sack Troy?"

He shifted his weight to his chair lethargically. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand for a second. The dizziness bad settled for real in his brain. He leaned his head back again, earning a small cracking sound from his neck.

"And since we are at it, I have a question for you, Agamemnon, son of Atreus, the first among the Greeks... What did the Trojans REALLY do to us to deserve such an end?"

"You're drunk! You don't know what you're talking about!"

Odysseus snorted humorlessly.

"Oh, I am drunk, alright. But I know exactly what I am talking about. And you do too. They took Helen, sure, or at least one of them did. But their real crime against us was that they protected their lands...from us. That's what we would have done as well..."

Agamemnon was ready to speak again but Menelaus stopped him.

"Brother, that's enough"

He then turned ti Odysseus sympathetically.

"Look, Odysseus, I understand that it hurts and I am sorry too that I put you through that indirectly, but please do not melt away. No matter what the actions of others was not your choice."

Odysseus said nothing. He only sighed.

"Will you join us at the games later? You are the hero of the day. Your presence is asked for."

Odysseus scoffed.

"Oh I will be there, alright. I never miss a good party!"

Menelaus smiled sadly.

"Thank you, Odysseus...for everything. I really mean it... I will see you later, when you sober up a little..."

He looked at his friend and added;

"And...we shall mention none...of this" he pointed at him indicating his condition.

Odysseus soullessly nodded as if wanting to attempt some humor.

"Thanks...I appreciate it"

Agamemnon was ready to say something but apparently he decided against it. He only sighed and turned to leave before finally asking;

"Will you come to take a pick from the spoils? You deserve it given it was thanks to you we got in"

The tired king made a dismissive move with his hand.

"No. I'm fine with whatever. Just include me to the next lottery" he replied indifferently

"Are you sure? You deserve a better share"

Odysseus smiled humorlessly.

"Last time I chose and defended my choice, we lost Aias the Telamonian. I think we lost enough for one decade, don't you think?"

It was a failure of attempt for humor and he knew it but Agamemnon only sighed.

"Suit yourself" he said defeated, heading for the exit

Menelaus was about to do the same but apparently something made him stop and turn around.

"Odysseus?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you...truly... You gave me back my honor

Odysseus snorted again.

"With the cost of mine..." he whispered bitterly, "Not that anyone ever thought I had any..."

The king of Sparta, though, shook his head negatively.

"To me you will always be the greatest of all Greeks"

The man who endured all torments looked up and for the first tike a small smile rose to his dry lips. That word of kindness was what he needed for his tormented heart to feel some sort of hope. At least there was finally one who neither blamed him nor glorified him. Menelaus saw his torment and responded. That was enough.

"Thank you..." he whispered

Menelaus nodded his head in return.

"Now rest, my friend. We have a long way before us...we are going home..."

Home...the tormented king of Ithaca thought. Yes, finally they could go home. After 10 endless years they could finally embrace their families. Just few more months of journey and Odysseus could finally go home... All he had to do was to learn to live with what he did... He watched both the kings through his cloudy vision, getting out of his tent and Polites coming back in.

"I am sorry, Odysseus! I couldn't stop them!"

Odysseus dismissed him with a hand gesture once more.

"Don't sweat it, Polites. Stopping a king seems impossible. Gods help us with two!"

Polites smiled softly. At least he would gain some of his humor back, he thought.

"Help me get to my bed, Polites..." sighed Odysseus hoarsely, "I need to rest... I am very tired..."

~~~~

Oh gosh what have I done?! Hehehehe well not sorry...not really! 😆 I hope you enjoyed this ride.

As you see I tried incorporating some of the Epic Cycle to the situation but I did tamper around with the timeliness. The Epic Cycle is a lovely mess anyways and holds many contradictions with the homeric poems but it includes many things.

Now the fragmentary poem Iliou Persis is sven mentioned how Odysseus throws Astyanax off the walls but most sources have Neoptolemus donit and I do agree with those more. Now in Trojan Women by Eurypedes the messenger Talthybius tells Andromache that Odysseus schemed so that her son would be thrown off the walls and that he persuaded the Greeks they couldn't raise the baby. Odysseus doesn't strike much as a baby killer in Odyssey or even the Iliad although he is known for being cruel in his punishments (see the excecution of the 50 conspiring slave girls) but nowhere jn Odyssey does Odysseus refer to that fact even if he does speak of his regrets for other actions of his and if he HAD thrown Astyanax off the walls himself I doubt he wouldn't have made any reference to it so I believe that Iliou Persis should he treated like Telegony when it comes to the homeric poems; a bit contradictory to the homeric epics (unless there is some lost fragment that tells us how Odysseus went on a rampage he could not remember lol 😆 ) so I made a mixture of all the above to show how Odysseus "killed" Astyanax or subconsciously persuaded the Greeks to do it and I added the role of Talthybius here too.

Iliou Persis seems to also be the most violent form when it comes to the Greek side such as that they offer Priam's daughter Polyxene to Achilles's tomb as a sacrifice, thus causing the rage of Athena (I swear the thing was written by a Trojan lol 😆) Eurypedes mentions how Polyxene was offered as slave to Achilles symbolically so she should serve his tomb. I also added the detail of Odysseus trying to persuade Neoptolemus to choose her as his price to speak Andromache but his attempts are a failure.

Drunkenness was severely discouraged in ancient geeece thus the concern in Polites's words when Odysseus uses it as a coping mechanism for the traumatic events of the night. Moreover the Greeks always mixed their wine with water (thus having the modern name for wine in Greek κρασί which comes from the verb in ancient greek which means "to mix") the wine that was not watered was called άκρατον and it was qlmost never consumed unless dipped in bread. The analogy between wine and water depended.

In this story I depict Neoptolemus as somehow a nemesis to Odysseus. Similar to what Agamemnon or Hector were for Achilles. I have no idea why but the idea stuck with me especially since the two are the two candidates for the murder of Astyanax. Somehow I imagined them again as the polar opposites thus the two of them having tension.

Odysseus mentions Thersites who was beaten really badly by him in the Iliad. In other sources it is mentioned that Odysseus has him stoned to death after Theraites attempts treason. In this story Thersites was already dead.

I know that for Palamedes the most famous version of his end comes from Hygenius who writes how Odysseus frames him for treason. However Pausanias mentions from the Epic Cycle that Palamedes drowned at a fishing expedition and that "he believes the murderers were Odysseus and Diomedes". 🤔 somehow I wanted to use a lesser known version plus give a bit room to doubt for instance did Palamedes really fell by accident and Odysseus is guilty for not helping? Or perhaps Odysseus pushed him? Maybe he held him under? Dunno. Leave it to your imagination. I know is not so spicy as the framing story but bare with me hehehe

Talthybius here simply hears "it was Odysseus who planned it" thus sending that information yo Andromache without the rest of the details..

Astyanax uttering a word was totally random. If he were an infant a few months old or almost a year old in Iliad that means he would be around 1 to 1.5 years old when Troy fell so I thought it would be more impactful if the poor baby uttered a word before his end.

The interaction with Andromache was placed there for the dramatics and the impact. When Andromache screams "MY BOY!" I was inspired by the series "The Tudors" when Anne Boleyn laments her final miscarriage (by the way I think Natalie Dormer would make an amazing Andromache!)

The story with Palamedes was also added to make the connection between two mothers and their impact to Odysseus. Plus I thought it would make more sense if Odysseus was furious not only for being embarrassed or that he has to go to war but because Palamedes put his son in danger. (Of course Penelope would be part of that scheme!)

Odysseus refusing to participate at the choice of spoils was just a random detail but as a general rule from Eurypedes it seems that he eats the old Ekavi (Hecuba) as his slave (probably she would be to serve Penelope( so I imagined Odysseus wouldn't want to choose but getting whatever would be lucky for him to further implicate that he wouldn't want anything further to do with the war. He also mentions the incident when Telamonian Aias (aka the great Ajax) went mad when Odysseus won Achilles's armor from him and then he killed himself in shame.

I also wanted to portray the friendship between Menelaus and Odysseus which seems to be really strong since Menelaus always talks with the warmest words for Odysseus.

For further questions and analysis please ask me to the comment section or reblog etc!

I wanna also tag some of my best friends commenters rebloggers etc! Thank you guys! Sorry if I forget anyone!

@loco-bird @aaronofithaca05 @tunguszka20 @doob-or-something @jarondont @prompted-wordsmith @simugeuge @fangirlofallthefanthings

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