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asa-do-your-thing · 6 months

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A pillar of support

Michael Gavey x F!Reader 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: 2,3k Tags / Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, looming sense of me projecting my insecurities about my upcoming statistics exams

“What don't you understand? I've told you five times already, it is one of the easiest concepts. If you just follow the formulae, you’ll manage your assignment.”

You nervously picked up your pen again, clicking it a few times. “I know, Michael, but… I don't get it. I want to understand what I’m solving.” The numbers on your paper wouldn't want to make sense to you and Michael's bobbing leg distracted you further.

“They let anyone study here, urgh”, he muttered and ran a hand through his short hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you took his written assignment out of its plastic folder. “Well, I'm not the one that has written ‘This theory has been proven and it is Logical, I shall not explain more.’ You do know that'll be rejected? You've not quoted anyone in all of these ten pages.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and scooted closer to you. “That is why I have taken out my time to sit with you, so you can correct it for me,” he said coolly.

Raising an eyebrow, you laughed incredulously and pushed the paper back to him, getting ready to leave. “D’you think I'll help you out, for free, without anything in return? You're a dreamer.”

“No, please, wait,” he said and quickly put his hand on your arm. “The thing is that I've tried explaining to you what you've asked of me. I can't make it easier.”

‘So he really does need my help, then’, you thought to yourself and gave him a small smile. “Well, what would you offer me then?”

You could see his mind racing as he looked over his assignment once more. “How long would it take for you to correct it and give me feedback?”, he asked matter-of-factly.

Getting up from the small chair in his room, you stretched and let yourself fall onto his uncomfortable bed. “Anywhere between one and two hours. Why?”

His eyes scanned your body, stopping at your short skirt and your bare, plump thighs. “I'll meet you next Saturday and you can choose what to do, I'll do it with you and pay for it, but only if that assignment comes back at a 85% or more”, he mumbled, a slight blush spreading on his stern face.

You knew what he was thinking about and it made you want to giggle. He really wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. “Mh, anything?" You turned onto your stomach, looking up at him, batting your lashes. “That isn’t very ‘specific’ and ‘observable’ of you.”

He rolled his eyes and got up, giving you an annoyed look. “Stop parroting me.”

You grinned and got up as well, noticing the way his ugly trekking pants started bulging. “Oh, I will parrot you as long as I want to. Not that you seem to mind, anyhow.”

Michael realized what he was doing and quickly stepped back, his eyes widening in embarrassment. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” he stammered.

You couldn't help but laugh at how flustered he got. He was usually so stoic and uninterested in women that it was surprising to see him blush like this. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a knowing look. “It’s okay, I get it…you think I’m seducing you or something?”

He coughed awkwardly before averting his gaze. You could tell he was trying hard to keep his cool demeanor despite the current situation. “Well, uh…it is kind of hard to concentrate when you are…right here in front of me like this.”

“Oh, so you do want me then?” You gave him a mischievous smile. “Well, if you really want my help so badly, then I suggest you seduce me as repayment. If you do it properly, I might even consider teaching you a thing or two about the art of seduction. What do you say?”

Michael stared at you for a few seconds before he finally nodded shyly, yet with a hint of threat in his voice. “Yes, I’ll do it…but if you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure to ruin your reputation.”

You grinned and crossed the space between you two, standing directly in front of him, slipping your fingers through his belt loops. You could feel the tension radiating off his body as he tried to play it cool. You leaned forward slightly and whispered into his ear. “Good boy. Now let's get started...”

Michael gulped audibly as you pulled him closer by his belt loops. He could feel your breath hot against his ear and he shuddered involuntarily. This was not something he was used to, but he couldn't deny how much he wanted it. He had always been a loner, someone who preferred to keep to himself and focus on his studies. But being in your presence made him feel alive in a way that he had never imagined possible.

You could sense his apprehension, but you were not about to let him back out now. You had spent too much time trying to get him to open up to you, and you were not about to let him go that easily. You ran your fingers along his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and smiled to yourself. This was going to be fun.

You pulled away from him, a coy smile playing on your lips. "So, do you know where to start?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Michael shook his head, still a bit dazed from your touch. "No, not really," he replied softly.

You took his hand and led him to the bed, sitting him down beside you. You could feel the heat emanating from him, and you knew that he was just as affected by your closeness as you were. You leaned in closer, feeling his breath hot against your face. "Let's start with a kiss," you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

Michael closed his eyes and leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You could feel his hands shaking as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

"N-not bad, not bad at all," you mumbled, breathing heavily.

You could feel his hot breath against your neck as he moved in for another kiss. He wasn't being very forward, but he wasn't too shy either. It was a good beginning, but he needed to do more if he wanted to win.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "Did you lock the door?" you asked, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his lips on your neck.

"On it," he replied, quickly getting up and locking the door.

You smirked and pulled him closer, hands moving to caress his chest. "Good boy," you muttered, purring in delight as he kissed along your neck.

He got the hint and quickly moved to kiss your lips once more, a bit more rougher this time. You were no stranger to this. You had played with a few men before, and you knew exactly what they liked.

"Now this is the stuff," you thought to yourself as he continued to kiss you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His fingers gently moved past your hair, playing with it as he enjoyed the kiss. It felt nice, but you sensed he wanted to do more. You pulled away, looking at him with a mischievous smile. "Do you want to be more forceful?" you asked.

He nodded, biting his lip as he looked into your eyes. "Y-yes," he stammered, and you could tell he was getting harder with each second that passed.

You could feel him harden against your leg, and you grinned. "Mh, you are eager, aren't you? Well, would you want to take off some of my clothes?"

He nodded again. "Yes, I think I can manage that," he replied, his fingers already working on the buttons of your shirt.

You let him take off the shirt, admiring the view. You didn't dress for anything - after all, you just thought you'd study a bit, yet it seemed like it didn't matter to him at all; his eyes widened at the sight of your tits.

"Now the skirt," you said, unzipping the skirt and stepping out of it.

Michael undid your bra and pulled off your skirt, leaving you in a simple black thong. You could feel his fingers trembling as he pulled it down, your womanhood becoming evident. You could tell he was nervous and shy, but he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

You let him admire your womanhood for a few moments before you pulled away and grabbed his hands, placing them on your chest. "Here, touch me," you breathed in his ear, biting his earlobe.

He nodded and began massaging you, his fingers moving all over your chest. You pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him. You could feel his eyes on you as you grinded against his erection, a grin spreading across your face. "Having fun?" you asked playfully.

He replied with a deep kiss, his hands moving to grab your ass. You let out a cry of surprise as he did it, but you couldn't help but like it. You moved your hips against his, moaning softly.

"Y-yes," he stammered, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to keep his cool. His hands moved over your ass, gently massaging your body. He was enjoying this, but he wasn't the kind of man to just sit back and let you have all the fun. He pulled you off him, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him.

"O-oh?" you muttered, smiling slightly. You had never been on the submissive end before, but it was evident that he had enough of you toying with him - you had given him enough confidence to take the upper hand and you enjoyed it thoroughly.

He kissed your lips again, only to move to one of your nipples. He kissed around it, teasing you. His fingers traced ever so lightly over your skin, feeling every inch of you. He was enjoying the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers, and you enjoyed it too.

You ran your fingers through his hair, moaning in delight as he kissed your breasts. "Oh...that feels good..." he muttered breathlessly.

His lips began kissing lower and lower, until you felt his lips against your stomach. He wasn't going to stop there, you knew that much. You bit your lip and prepared yourself for what was to come. He smiled to himself, enjoying the view. He kissed your thighs, and then he moved in closer.

His tongue brushed against your pussy, tasting your womanhood. He moaned softly as he moved in deeper, tasting the juices of your womanhood. His tongue began moving in perfect harmony, he was enjoying every moment of it. You could tell that he was enjoying himself, and that made you moan even louder.

"M-Michael..." you moaned loudly, grabbing a hold of the sheets beneath you as you began shaking. He had just begun, but you were already on the edge. He moved in faster, his tongue working wonders against your womanhood. Each flick of his tongue sent shivers down your spine, and you were already in a daze. You moved your hips against his tongue, wanting him to go deeper and faster. "Ohh...M-Michael..."

He moaned as you called his name, and you could feel him quickly coming up again, positioning himself aganist your entrance. "D'you want me... raw?"

You didn't need to answer, you didn't want to and most importantly you didn't care. He slowly began sliding into you, his cock filling up every inch of you as he slowly began thrusting. He moaned quietly against as he began moving in and out of you, his cock sliding in smoothly.

"M-Michael..." you muttered, tilting your head back in pleasure. You had never felt something this good before. He was so big, filling up your womanhood. His cock pushed deeper into you, and with each thrust he made you moan louder and louder.

"A-ah..." you moaned, biting your lip as he thrust faster. He was taking no time at all to push every inch of his cock into you, and you loved every second of it. You could feel his cock thrust in farther, hitting against your deepest places. You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, enjoying the tight walls surrounding him and you could feel your pussy tighten around him. You knew exactly what this meant.

"O-ohh...I'm-I... fuck," he moaned loudly, his cock twitching within you. He let out a loud moan, pushing himself deep into you before he pulled out, cumming all over your lower body. His hot cum sprayed out over your skin, and you loved it. He leaned forward, his cock still throbbing above your body. You could feel his heart beat through his cock against your skin, and you could tell just how hard it was for him to hold that back.

He finally leaned down, panting against your neck. "I-I... hope that should be enough for you to help me with my assignment."

You smiled, pulling him closer and hugging him tightly. "Mh..." you replied, leaning up to kiss his forehead. "You did exactly as I asked, I think I'll be able to help you now."

He smiled in delight. "Great! D'you think you could help me tomorrow too?"

You nodded. "I'm pretty much available to help you as much as you'd like," you said.

He smiled, bringing his hands up to your face and gently caressing it. "I... thank you. I'll make sure to get you ready for your statistics exams," he muttered before he leaned in to kiss your lips softly.

#michael gavey #asas fics #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #saltburn

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luveline · 2 years

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no worries if not!!! but can you write one where james comes home from work and hears reader sniffing and he’s like MY BABY?!?!?!?! proper panicking thinking reader is crying and rly upset but she’s actually been chopping onions (this may or may not be self indulgent because i was chopping onions and my eyes HURT so bad and i almost chopped my finger bc i was tearing up that much) :’)

for u i hope its okay! ♡ fem!reader

James goes very quickly from tired to alert, your sniffles like a sudden flick of the switch. It's obvious that you're crying, you don't sound as if you're hiding it, little wet sniffs and breaths echoing from the kitchen.

He kicks out of his shoes but leaves on his suit jacket in his rush, jogging down the hall and into the kitchen. As soon as you're in sight his heart is broken. You've your back to him and while you're not shaking, you're crying and cutting up little baby tomatoes. It makes him so so sad to think you'd cry and keep going anyhow.

My girl, he thinks, stricken.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

You gasp and he gasps and you slam down the knife. "Fuck, Jamie," you say, laughing wetly and turning. Your face is stained with tear tracks. "You scared me."

"Why are you crying?" he asks.

You stare at him. He tries to take your hands and you pull away, furthering his worry. "Don't, I have-"

"What's wrong?"

"Jamie," you say firmly, "I'm fine."

"You don't look-"

"I was cutting onions." You angle your chest so he can see the chopping board. "They're from Sirius' garden. Very potent."

"Are you joking?"

"No," you say, with another lovely laugh.

He ignores your hands in favour of your face, wiping the mess of tears from your cheeks and bottom lashes carefully. You've kept your work skirt and tights on but swapped your nice blouse for a pajama top, and the fabric is soft against his cheek as he hugs you.

You stand with your hands above his shoulder, hesitant.. "James, I'm really okay."

"This hug isn't for you, it's for me."

"Oh. Well, let me wash my hands so I can hug you properly."

He squeezes you very tight and then pulls away. "Why do you do this to me? I came in and I could hear you crying and I felt my heart fall out."

You wrinkle your nose at the image and wash your hands. Freshly rinsed, you push them over his shoulders and wrap your forearm behind his head, blocking him in. He slides a misbehaved hand under your t-shirt and feels up the curves and bumps of your back greedily.

James' heart takes a little while to slow. When it does, he lets you go reluctantly and with the insistence that he be the sole handler of all evil onions. He doesn't want to see you cry again, even if they're crocodile tears.

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #marauders #marauders era #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #fem!reader

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1800-fight-me · 1 year

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Broken Vows Part Three

Part One Part Two Epilogue

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Sex, angst, canon level violence!!, dark themes, (as a reminder for anyone stressed about the warnings in this last chapter- i promised a happy ending and i am delivering on that promise!)

Word count: About 7.5k

Synopsis: You and your son’s fates are in the balance as tensions rise and plans are initiated. Will the resolution you seek come to fruition?

Author’s note: Here we are at the last chapter! I am feeling so emotional over the end of this story that means so much to me! I literally have never finished a series before so this is a huge accomplishment for me and I really put my heart and soul into this story! I really hope y’all enjoy it! Thank you so much to @just-here-for-the-moment and @lady-phasma for beta reading for me!!

Aemond Masterlist

You gulped as you stood at the door of your father’s chambers. Your foot tapped in anticipation of the confrontation that was sure to come.

Your son whined, wanting to get down, but you shushed him and held him tight against your hip. The guard led you in and your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you saw your father.

Though you had been in King’s Landing for some days now, you had yet to see him. He looked as if time might have treated him even more horribly than it had treated you.

You strode across the bare room to where he sat in an uncomfortable looking chair.

“Daughter,” he wheezed out.

“Father,” you greeted him coldly.

You stared at his wrinkled and haggard face and couldn’t stop the words as you blurted out, “You look terrible.”

He half laughed and half coughed.

“A result of a lifetime of sins and poor decisions,” he said.

You scrunched your eyebrows at him, in disbelief at his words.

“Has becoming senile given you new faith in the gods?” you scoffed.

He wheezed another laugh.

“Yes. Your words cut me deep, daughter.”

“You deserve it. It is not as if you are resolved of the grievances I have against you just because you’re near death’s door.”

“It seems you have done as you wished despite my decisions anyhow,” he said with a pointed look at your son.

“I do not know of what you speak.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Your idiot husband may not know but I know you, my wicked daughter. I know that child is of the prince.”

You glared at him and made your decision.

You were sick of hiding, sick of cowering, sick of living in fear. What could an old man nearing his death bed really do anyhow?

“So it seems we both have sins. Both the result of your poor decisions.” you said hotly.

He smirked as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Do you feel remorse for your sins?”

“No,” you said firmly as you stared him down.

You son finally managed to wiggle out of your arms and began to toddle around the room.

He laughed again, this time spitefully.

“You truly are my daughter, you’re as stubborn as I am. I should have known this would happen when I married you to that idiot Stark.”

You said nothing as you glared at him.

You did your best to keep your breathing even as your temper spiked.

Your son grabbed at your skirts and you picked him up once again.

“Is this why you wanted me to come? To hurl accusations at me?” you finally asked.

“I wanted to see my daughter again before I die. Is that too much to ask?”

“I am glad you found religion, but that does not absolve you in my eyes. You will find no forgiveness or comforting words from me,” you said softly but firmly.

He coughed once loudly, and then began a coughing fit.

You watched him, but made no move to help.

“You look so much like your mother,” he said.

You held your tongue.

“Go then,” he said rather viciously.

You turned and walked out with your head held high.

——————

The last feast of the festivities was by far the worst.

You, your husband, and your father were seated at the table with the Targaryens. You weren’t sure who made that decision, but the tension at the table was nearly unbearable.

It was only cut through occasionally by Helaena’s near incomprehensible comments and Aegon’s lewd jokes.

The festivities around the room raged loudly and merrily, but at your table awkwardness reigned.

All you wanted was to retire to your quarters for the night.

Aegon and Cregon had already sunk deep into their cups and you rolled your eyes at their conversation. They were so far drunk they did not realize nearly everyone at the table could hear them as they spoke of the serving girls’ bodies. With both of their wives sitting on their other sides.

You sighed and glanced across the table at Aemond.

His lip was curled in disgust as he stared daggers at his brother and your husband.

Your husband suddenly wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you roughly into his side.

You held in your sigh of frustration but couldn’t stop yourself from glaring at him.

“No woman, however, has tits as nice as my wife,” Cregon said to Aegon.

You knew there was no truth to his words, vile as they were, as he had never shown any interest in you beyond his duty.

“Cregon,” you protested in embarrassment.

Aegon chuckled as he looked over at you.

“Don’t you agree, my prince?” Cregon said sharply as he looked at Aemond.

At the same time he shoved his hand between your thighs and gripped the flesh harshly.

Aemond glared at your husband. There was death in his stare.

His fists, where they rested on the table, were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white.

Your father chuckled spitefully.

“Cregon, unhand me,” you hissed at him as he began to tug at your skirts.

He broke eye contact with Aemond to look at you.

“You are treating me as a common whore rather than-“

“My lady wife? Is that what you were going to say? I thought you loathed to be my wife,” he spat at you as he let you go.

“Stop it. You are embarrassing us both,” you said sharply.

He rolled his eyes but relented as he took another deep drink from his wine goblet.

You called for the guards to help you escort your husband back to his chambers.

He complied with only minimal disgruntlement.

With one last glance at Aemond, who looked murderously angry, you left the banquet hall.

—————

The guards deposited your husband in the chair in his sitting room and promptly left.

He groaned in annoyance.

You stood with your hands on your hips as you glared at him.

“What was that vile display about?” you demanded, as you referred to his heinous behavior at the feast.

“Why does my son have white hair?” he yelled.

“I- the maesters told us when he was born that it must be a birth defect,” you said as you felt the world around you tilt on its axis.

Your heart pounded and you began to feel light headed.

He glared at you.

“Or it is the result of being sired by a Targaryen,” he said through clenched teeth.

You gasped.

“What are you accusing me of?”

“You know exactly what I am accusing you of,” he seethed.

“I would never! How dare you?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You are drunk,” you spat at him.

“And you are a whore,” he yelled.

You took a step back from him.

“You are too inebriated for this conversation. We can discuss this tomorrow when you’ve sobered up.”

“I am leaving,” he said as he stood on unsteady feet.

You made no move to help him.

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

He walked past you towards his door.

“To another brothel?” you demanded.

He turned back to look at you.

“There will be consequences for this, lady wife, I promise you that,” he said and then left.

As the door slammed behind him you sank to your knees and sobbed.

Your world felt as if it were falling apart.

Too many people knew the truth. Your lady’s maid, both queens, your father, and now most dangerously- your husband knew your secret, your treachery, and he was right. Consequences would follow.

——————

Rage was the only emotion Aemond could feel. It took all his self control and then some to stop himself from lunging across the table and killing Cregon where he sat.

He reminded himself over and over again of the carefully crafted, step by step plan.

He had a network of spies that notified him of every step Cregon took as soon as you and him had arrived in King’s Landing.

He knew Cregon’s deplorable nightly routines, which is why he never worried about being caught in your room. Your husband was always busy in a brothel. He either buried himself in a whore or made a fool of himself gambling, almost always losing.

He disgusted Aemond.

Aemond waited until a servant came and told him that Cregon had left the Red Keep.

Then he waited another few respectable and inconspicuous minutes before he finally took his leave from the festivities.

He made his way to his chambers where he braided back his hair and changed his clothes and eyepatch to lower quality versions, so as to better blend in with the commoners in the city. Lastly, he donned a cloak and pulled the hood low over his head to hide his hair and face.

He slipped out of his room through the dark hidden tunnels and took the winding maze he was all too familiar with until it deposited him outside the Red Keep.

He first made his way to the filthy pub Cregon usually stopped at before he made his way to the street of silk.

As he peered in the window, Aemond found that Cregon had surely already left, if the celebrating of newly rich men was any indication.

Aemond continued on, the entire time his thoughts were on you.

Soft, in your bed, most likely waiting on him. He yearned to join you, but right now his focus was on the long term.

You would be his and only his, forever, after this night.

He tried not to think of how worried and anxious you must be feeling. He did not make his plans known to you as he wanted to protect you. In the worst case scenario, you needed to be able to truthfully say that you knew nothing of the plot to kill your husband.

Anger, rage, a need for revenge, all felt like second nature to Aemond. Anger did not make him lose his head and act wild as it often did to others. No, he had so much experience with anger that it made him calculating and cold. Not getting what he wanted, what he deserved, was like an old familiar wound that would not heal.

But not this time, he would not yield. He would not put duty and sacrifice above his own desires again. No, he would take what he wanted by force, by murder.

You would be his.

Aemond made his way to the brothel.

The night before he sent one of his spies to pay off the brothel keeper to ensure that when Cregon arrived he would be in the secluded room in the back with a window so Aemond could easily sneak in and out.

As he crept through the shadows in the alley behind the brothel, he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he heard your husband and the whore he was with through the open window.

There was nothing he could do now but wait, so he sat in the dark with his back to the wall.

His certainty that it would not last long turned out to be true.

He still waited. He knew Cregon’s routine, he had memorized it after his spies had informed him.

Soon, the woman would go to get more wine and then he would have his chance.

“My wife is a whore too, you know,” Cregon’s voice floated out into the alley.

Aemond clenched his jaw.

“My lord?” the woman asked.

“I am almost certain she is fucking the cripple prince. Though I do not understand why,” he sneered.

“I am sorry to hear that, my lord,” she said.

Aemond gripped the hilt of his dagger tighter.

“I do not yet know how to handle her betrayal,” he said and Aemond rolled his eye.

Cregon would of course not recognize the hypocrisy of his words.

“Perhaps some more wine could help,” she offered.

He grunted in agreement.

Aemond listened carefully for the sound of her departure and at the creak of the door shut behind her, he pulled out his dagger and moved closer to the open window.

He took a quick look and saw that Cregon lay on the bed with his back to Aemond.

Aemond carefully and slowly pulled his body through the window without making a sound.

Then he darted to Cregon’s prone figure and slapped a hand over his mouth as he hauled him up and against his body.

Cregon’s screams were muffled. As he tried to fight back, Aemond easily overpowered him.

He held the knife to your husband’s throat and the fight left him immediately.

Aemond slipped his hand slightly off Cregon’s mouth. He had enough honor to give a dying man the right to his last words.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything you want. Just please spare my life,” Cregon pleaded pathetically.

“Your wife,” Aemond growled out.

Cregon gasped in surprise.

“She is mine. And always has been mine,” Aemond said, dark and low, before he slit Cregon’s throat.

Aemond dropped his body, and stared at the scene he had created with satisfaction.

His chest heaved as he caught his breath. He pulled out the carefully crafted note from where it was safely stored within one of his inner pockets and placed it next to the body. The tip of it was quickly soaked with blood.

Bright red was splattered across the entire room.

He cleaned off his dagger by wiping it on the bed.

The rage in his chest eased and his only thoughts left were of you.

He quickly made his way out of the brothel window without being seen and snuck back to the Red Keep.

He was long gone before the screams of the women of the brothel at the sight of the scene he left could be heard.

—————

You did not sleep that night.

You kept your son with you for fear that he would be ripped from you when the consequences your husband spoke of came.

He slept soundly next to you in your bed and you frequently ran a hand over his hair, his back, pressed a kiss to his sweet face.

Aemond did not come for you either.

You tossed and turned and finally resolved yourself to stare at the ceiling.

Sleep would not take you into its warm embrace for your anxieties were too strong.

Where was Aemond?

Why had he not come for you tonight? Surely he would seek you out and offer you comfort from the stressors of the evening.

Surely he would want your presence as much as you wanted his.

You were suddenly not so sure anymore.

Where was Aemond?

You were not surprised when there was a knock at your door in the early hours of the morning.

The rays of the morning sun basked over you and stung your tired eyes.

You wrapped yourself in your robe and with one last shuddering breath that did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves, you opened your door.

A guard stood before you.

“My lady, I am afraid I have terrible news,” he said.

You gulped.

This was it. You were going to be imprisoned, held before a crowd and shamed for your infidelity, or any other manner of horrible things.

“Go on,” you said weakly.

“Your lord husband was found dead about an hour ago.”

Your head rushed and you stumbled.

“My lady!” he exclaimed.

The guard caught your arm and led you to sit down in the nearest chair.

“I… what?” you asked in disbelief.

“Your husband is dead,” he said gently.

You blinked.

Your exhausted mind had a hard time processing the information that was so different from your expectations of this morning.

“What happened?” you asked.

“It is not for a lady to hear,” he said awkwardly.

“Tell me,” you demanded.

He sighed.

“Lord Stark was found in a brothel on the street of silk with his throat slit. There was a note left that took responsibility. It seems he owed quite a bit of money due to gambling and refused to pay.”

You stared at him wide eyed and then laughed.

He looked at you in shock and you covered your mouth to stifle the sound.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out as you managed to stop your laughter.

“It is alright, my lady. It is shocking news to hear about your husband.”

You nodded.

“I would like some time alone, I think,” you said and he nodded solemnly then took his leave.

Your mind raced.

Was he truly dead?

Were you truly free?

Would there truly be no consequences for your actions?

Was this Aemond’s doing?

Your mind could not take the swirling thoughts anymore and you returned to your bed.

You kissed your sleeping child’s head once more, then tumbled into bed.

You were relieved when sleep finally managed to take you.

——————-

People came to you all day. They filtered in and out of the sitting room of your chambers.

They offered you and your child condolences, they brought small gifts for your son, they gave you flowers to comfort you.

You did not want or need their comfort. But you played the part they expected of you, the part of the grieving widow.

Everytime the door opened you perked up and hoped you would see the long white hair of your lover, but to no avail.

The day felt as if it lasted years. The sun finally began its descent and you relaxed but there was another knock on your door.

When Aemond’s entire family came without him, your already frustrated mood instantly soured.

Helaena held your hand as Alicent spoke to you softly.

She reassured you that you would be able to stay in the Red Keep as long as you wished.

You nodded and thanked her for her graciousness.

“Where is Aemond?” you finally asked when you could hold the question in no longer.

“Aemond!” little Ned exclaimed.

You looked up and there he stood, in your doorway. He stared at you with unconcealed longing and love as his family were the only people currently in the room. It seems he was tired of hiding.

Your son squirmed in your lap and clapped and giggled in excitement as Aemond crossed the room in long strides.

You watched him as he sat in the chair across from you but said nothing.

“Well, you ran out of wine. I think I shall go elsewhere to find more,” Aegon said awkwardly as he glanced between the two of you.

“Perhaps Helaena and I could take little Ned for a walk. He probably needs some fresh air,” Alicent offered.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you,” you said as you handed him to her.

Soon they all filtered out and left you alone with Aemond.

Something that had only happened in secret for the past several years.

“Where have you been?” you asked in a harsher tone than you intended.

Still, you had noticed the change in guards at your door this morning and you were sure they were now men who were loyal to Aemond and would never dare speak of him being alone with you.

“I have been taking care of things,” he said.

You started to blink rapidly as unexpected tears filled your eyes.

Concern filled his expression.

“You left me alone. All day strangers have been here trying to offer me comfort. I don’t want comfort. I want you,” you said as the tears began to fall.

He moved off the chair and towards you, though he did not sit next to you as you expected, he instead knelt before you.

He gently took your hand in his and tilted your chin up so you met his gaze rather than stared at your lap.

“You have me. For the rest of my life, if you wish. I did not want to raise suspicions so I bid my time coming to you today, but never doubt my devotion to you, dear heart.”

You nodded, but the tears did not stop.

“I have killed for you, my love. And I would do it again. I would slaughter a thousand men if they stood between you and I. I would do anything to make you mine,” he said low and fervently.

You threw yourself in his arms and sobbed into his neck and hair.

“Shhh,” he comforted as he rubbed your back.

“I am yours,” you sniffled.

“Mine,” he swore.

“And you are mine,” you said.

“Yours, forever,” he promised.

———————-

There would be no funeral in King’s Landing for your husband.

You had written back and forth with his family and they wanted his body to be sent to the North to be buried in the crypt under Winterfell.

You would not accompany his body.

As a widow to a small child, the choice was yours to return to your father’s house.

You would not return to the dreaded North.

Your husband’s closest male relative would rule in your son’s stead until he came of age.

For now they were not fighting you on your decision to stay in your childhood home.

None of them ever particularly liked you anyway.

Since the Red Keep was your childhood home due to your father’s position at court, you did not have to go anywhere.

It was a relief.

Truthfully, even though it was all very shocking, you felt intense relief.

You stood in your mourning dress, your son’s hand in yours, as you watched Cregon’s body in the coffin be placed into a carriage.

You watched the carriage pull away and out of sight.

Alicent stood beside you, her hand on your arm comfortingly.

You must be doing a better job of playing the part of the grieving widow than you thought, though you suspected the queen was playing her part alongside you.

She had always been a motherly presence to you and you were certain she would offer you support no matter the circumstances.

You lifted your son up and turned to walk back into the Keep.

You looked up at the flash of white hair and saw Aemond where he watched you from a balcony.

He nodded at you and at your nod back he smirked slightly then turned quickly and left your sight.

———————

Aemond stood in the large sparsely decorated room and thought it was reflective of your father’s personality, cold and demanding.

He stared at your father and again wondered how such a beautiful source of light came from such a miserable man.

“How can I help you, my prince?” the lord sneered, and it was clear he did not wish to help Aemond with anything.

Your father sat in a chair before the large table and indicated for Aemond to do the same, but he declined.

He always wished to meet his enemies on his feet.

“I will be simple and straightforward. Marry her to me,” Aemond said, his tone hard.

“Is that a request or a demand?”

“Take it as you will,” Aemond said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“And if I say no?” the lord demanded and anger clouded his voice.

“I think you would see that you have little choice in the matter,” Aemond said calmly.

His eyes bulged as he took in the prince and through gritted teeth he said, “And why is that?”

“Because she is mine, and always has been, it is high time she is mine by law of the land as well. Wed her to me.” Aemond’s voice was low and dangerous as he spoke.

Your father huffed a breath.

“I am required to do no such thing. She is my daughter,” he snapped.

“I am no longer a boy whom you can dismiss. I am done playing games. Agree to wed her to me or you shall not like the consequences,” Aemond growled as his fingers curled around the back of the seat he stood behind.

“And what are those consequences?” he spat out, clearly beyond anger.

“Her husband is dead and she has a son, who are you going to marry her off to but me? Take my offer, old man.”

“What consequences do you speak of, prince?”

Their glares matched each other and Aemond fought against his instincts to pull out his dagger.

“Perhaps one bastard child is not enough, perhaps I should fill her with another. Perhaps I should have done so when we were sixteen and I took her maidenhood. It would have at least spared her from the miserable life you shackled her in,” Aemond’s voice was even as he spoke.

Your father’s breathing was heavy and he stood quickly.

“How dare you!” he yelled as he pointed a finger at the insolent prince.

Aemond laughed spitefully.

“Do not act as if you did not know it to be true. Now, you see you have little choice in the matter. Wed her to me. It is not as if you would have to put up with me for long seeing as your time in this life seems to be nearing its end,” Aemond practically sneered.

The old man sighed deeply, more like wheezed, as he sat back in his chair heavily.

“Fine. I am sick of the both of you. Wed, and do not bother me any further. This is why everyone fucking hates the Targaryens, so entitled. Though I do not understand your fascination with her.”

“Hm,” Aemond hummed in distaste at your father’s dismissive words about you.

His heartbeat, however, would betray his joy at finally being able to marry you and call you his before everyone in the seven kingdoms, to no longer have to hide his love for you.

“You may wed her in a fortnight. And if she falls pregnant before then I will demand your head from the king,” the old man threatened weakly.

“Of course,” Aemond drawled and nodded his head at your father before he spun on his heel and strode out of the depressing room.

His smirk was difficult to conceal, however.

——————

Aemond walked into your chambers with purpose at a brisk pace.

He strode in as if he owned them.

In the several weeks since your husband’s death he had become less secret about his intentions towards you and was often seen by guards in his trust as he entered your chambers.

“My love!” you exclaimed as you saw him.

“Ned said the cutest thing today! I wish you were here to hear him… why are you looking at me like that?” you asked with a grin.

He crossed the room and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“Aemond!” you gasped in pleased surprise as he pulled back.

He nudged his nose against yours and kissed you once more with a smile on his lips that matched your own.

Then he pulled back and with a hand on your cheek he rubbed his thumb back and forth across your soft skin as he took in your beauty.

Love and joy radiated out of you and you’d never looked so divine.

His heart pinched as he realized he had not seen you this happy in years. Your miserable marriage had always reigned in and cut through your happiness, even during your stolen moments with him.

There has always been a fog of unhappiness in the backs of your eyes, your glow dimmed, but no longer.

He knew the next words he spoke would only enhance your happiness.

“Marry me, dear heart,” he said.

It was not a request, for he already knew your answer, it was a declaration.

He kissed you once more before you had a chance to speak.

You gasped as you pulled back to look at him.

“Aemond, do you mean it?” you asked breathlessly.

He kissed you, licked into your mouth, claimed your lips with his own.

“Would I ever jest about such a thing?” he asked as he pulled back and nudged his nose against yours.

“When? Now?” you asked eagerly and he chuckled.

“Your father has agreed, with conditions. It cannot be for another fortnight and you are not to be with child before the day.”

You furrowed your brow and he pressed his lips there to soothe the wrinkles.

“That is a long time to wait,” you said.

“We have had to wait a lifetime. What is a few more weeks?” he said as he placed his hand on your jaw and tilted your head back so you could meet his gaze once more.

You grinned.

“That is true. Gods, my love, is this truly happening?” you asked as joyous tears filled your eyes.

“Yes,” he said as he stole a kiss once more.

“You are to be my wife,” he said, and his voice dropped lower.

You visibly preened and then kissed him hungrily.

“That is all I have ever desired,” you gasped as he gripped you tightly and led you to lay on the couch behind you.

He covered your body with his and you groaned in lust at the feel of him on top of you.

“I will fulfill your every desire, dear heart,” he promised.

—————-

“How are you feeling, dear?” Alicent asked as she entered your chambers.

“Wonderful,” you said with a grin.

She smiled at you with motherly love.

“I am glad to hear it. Your beauty is radiant today,” she said as she held your hands and looked at you in your wedding dress.

“Thank you,” you said as you hugged her tightly.

She squeezed you and then pulled back with a hand on your cheek.

“I know circumstances have been less than ideal, but I am thrilled for you to marry Aemond and join our family,” she said.

You blinked back tears as you smiled at her.

“It has always been my hope. I have always seen you as a mother figure, especially after the love and care you showed me when my own mother passed, and I am elated to truly call you my mother now.”

She wiped away her tears and kissed you on the cheek.

There was a knock at the door.

“He is waiting,” she whispered to you and you grinned in excitement.

Alicent took your hand and led you out of your chambers and into your new life.

—————-

The ceremony was relatively private, with only your father, your son, and Aemond’s family in attendance.

You did not wish for pomp, all you cared about was being wed to the man you love, and Aemond was all too happy to oblige.

Your father bemoaned that it was a travesty for the joining of two great houses to not have celebrations and feasts but when you assured him that you and your new husband would celebrate plenty on your own, he quickly quit his complaints.

As you neared the doors of the sept, Alicent was replaced at your side by your father. Helaena walked to you and handed you your son, who you kissed on the cheek until he giggled.

Everyone else went inside, where you were sure Aemond waited, and you turned and looked at your father when he offered you his arm.

“It is my responsibility to give you away, daughter of mine,” he said cautiously as he looked at you warily.

“This shall be the last time you do so,” you said.

“This is how it should have been the first time,” he said softly and your eyes widened in surprise.

You pursed your lips in a very Aemond-esque expression as you often called it when little Ned made the same face.

“I agree,” you said finally.

You turned back to face your child and nudged your nose against his.

“Are you ready, my little dragon heart?” you asked him sweetly.

He grinned and bestowed a kiss upon you.

“Ready!” he parroted.

You placed him down beside you so he could walk and held his hand.

As you entered the sept, you could not stop the face-splitting smile that overtook your lips as you saw him.

He looked beautiful, handsome, ethereal, like the love of your life, as he smiled at you fondly with love in his eye and devotion in his being.

His clothing was well-tailored but still all black and it filled your heart with affection and amusement. His hair was down and fell like a lovely halo around him.

Little Ned slipped his hand from yours and ran, as quickly as a nearly three year old boy could run, to Aemond and squealed in happiness as Aemond picked him up.

“Hello, handsome,” Aemond murmured to his son with a gentle smile upon his curved lips.

“Aemond,” Ned said as he wrapped his chubby fingers in Aemond’s hair and you giggled.

You finally reached your lover and your son where they stood before the septon and you’d never felt more right.

You held in tears of joy as you realized that you finally made it. You and your child were where you should be, safe in Aemond’s care.

You saw home in Aemond’s eyes, one sapphire and the other a beautiful blue.

Blue had always been your favorite color, the reason why was all too obvious to you now.

Aemond kissed Ned on the cheek as he detangled the boy’s fingers from his long silken hair.

Ned reached for you and Aemond passed him to your waiting arms.

You kissed him once more before you passed him to Alicent.

Finally you stood before the love of your life ready to become his wife.

He took your hands in his and with a glance at the septon, he pulled you into a brief but soft and loving kiss.

“You are exquisite, dear heart,” he whispered to you and you beamed at him.

“I love you,” you whispered back.

The septon cleared his throat obnoxiously, clearly ready to begin the ceremony.

You glanced at him and barely managed to suppress your giggle, especially when you saw Aemond’s unrepentant smirk.

The septon then began the ceremony.

When you looked back on the memory later, you realized you heard nothing the septon said. His voice was background noise as you stared at the man you love.

Aemond’s loving gaze threatened to pull you under a wave of fire. The promised future together was molten in his eye.

All you could think about was the need you had for him.

He was in your bones, your soul, the entirety of your being. And now, finally, after what felt like a lifetime apart, you were being tied together, forever.

You would never again have to walk through life burdened and alone.

When indicated by the septon, you and Aemond spoke your vows.

“I am his and he is mine,” you said as tears streamed down your face.

“I am hers and she is mine,” Aemond said at the same time.

He smiled at you gently. You both knew, these vows would never be broken.

At last, the septon ended the ceremony and immediately Aemond pulled you into his body and kissed you desperately.

Everyone cheered but in the room it felt like only the two of you.

Your husband’s lips moved against yours and you opened up for him and allowed him to claim your mouth as his hands gripped you. One hand on the small of your back and the other on the back of your neck as he bent you backwards.

Your fingers tangled in his tunic and long hair.

You finally broke apart when you heard Aegon wolf- whistle at the heated kiss.

You laughed softly as Aemond straightened both of your stances and you kissed him on the cheek.

He wiped the tears from your eyes and blinked back his own before you both turned to look at your audience.

They cheered once more and Aemond led you to walk towards them.

Everyone embraced the two of you and your cheeks began to feel sore from how hard you smiled.

“So, is the bedding ceremony next?” Aegon joked.

“Aegon!” Alicent reprimanded.

“What? How else could we possibly know that these two will consummate their new marriage?” he said in the most sarcastic tone possible.

Everyone looked at him with some degree of shock, horror, and in Aemond’s case, anger.

But you couldn’t hold back your laugh. Aemond looked at you in shock which only made you laugh harder.

Aegon looked over at you and winked.

Aemond rolled his eye as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. He then pressed a kiss to your temple.

But there was a soft smile of amusement evident on his lips.

“There will be no group celebration and no bedding ceremony, Aegon. You will have to find another reason to drink yourself into a stupor,” Aemond said.

You laughed once again, and as Aegon gave Aemond a short glare, everyone joined in with you.

You turned to take Ned from Helaena’s arms but Aemond pulled you back into him.

“Leave him with my family for now, dear heart. I have made arrangements for our afternoon,” he whispered in your ear.

You looked at him in surprise and then uncertainty as you looked back at your son.

“We will be back before it is his bedtime, do not fret,” Aemond said.

You smiled softly as you nodded.

“He is in good hands,” Alicent reassured.

“Of course,” you agreed.

Little time passed before Aemond whisked you away and led you to where Vaghar waited.

He helped you climb onto her saddle and ignored all your questions about where you were going.

“My love,” you started to ask once again after Vaghar had taken to the skies.

You settled into Aemond’s embrace as he sat closely behind you, the back of your body pressed to the front of his and his arms around you held the reins.

“Patience, wife,” he chided.

A shiver ran through you at the title he gave you. Ever since you were a young woman you had dreamed of Aemond calling you his wife.

He chuckled at your reaction and pressed a kiss to your neck as he nuzzled you.

Before anything could become too heated, Aemond ordered Vaghar to land.

The sound of High Valyrian as it rolled off his tongue caused additional desire to course through you.

As she circled and began to land you gasped.

“Aemond! You have brought me here?” you said in awe as emotion overtook you and clouded your voice.

The field of wildflowers had trees that surrounded each side but the one a small river cut through.

It looked exactly as you remembered it.

You had visited this place many times in your memory when you were isolated in the North.

You had visited this place many times with Aemond as well in your shared youth.

After Aemond had claimed Vaghar he convinced you to fly with him and eventually the two of you found this meadow.

A place only you and him knew.

“Of course, dear heart. This is where I promised you I would wed you when we were seventeen and gave you that necklace you wear around your throat,” he murmured against your skin.

You touched the sapphire necklace you had never once taken off after he had gifted it to you.

He then dismounted and helped you down from the massive dragon.

He pressed a kiss to your hand before he unpacked one of Vaghar’s saddlebags.

He laid out a blanket and led you to it.

“And this is where I shall well and truly make you my wife,” he said, his voice low and dark with promise.

Your toes curled and you let him lay you down on the blanket among the blue and yellow flowers.

Vaghar then left the two of you to your own devices, Aemond assured you she would be back in time to return you to your son before his bedtime as promised. You smiled at how in tune he was with your emotions and his skilled reassurances of your worries.

“Kiss me, husband of mine,” you breathed out as you stared deep into his eye.

You expected fiery passion from your dragon but he surprised you as he kissed you gently and slowly.

He covered your body with his as he deepened the kiss and his tongue tangled with yours.

You weaved your fingers into his hair and he groaned.

“I am yours and you are mine,” he murmured against your lips.

You whimpered in desire.

His nimble fingers unlaced your dress. Gentle hands slipped you out of your dress and underclothes and bared you completely before him.

You then undressed him and he kissed you tenderly.

“I am yours and you are mine,” you repeated back to him.

He kissed you slowly, languidly, but full of desire, as the two of you had all the time in the world. The rest of your lives stretched out before you and it was only this moment, forever.

You were tangled in him and he was tangled in you and your soul finally felt at rest.

There was no hurry, but still, you were ready for him and could not wait any longer.

There would be time for him later to pleasure you as you knew he wanted to, but for now you needed him inside you.

So, when he attempted to move his way down your body you gripped his shoulders.

“Need to be full of you,” you gasped.

“Hm,” he hummed as he kissed you and spread your legs to situate himself between them.

You opened your mouth to speak but he thrust inside you in one smooth motion and you choked on your words, forgot what you were going to say as you felt exquisitely full.

You wrapped your legs around his trim waist and held him closer, tighter.

He nudged his nose against yours as he stared deep into your eyes.

“I love you,” he murmured before he began to thrust slowly in and out of you.

“I love you,” you whined and trailed your lips across his sharp chin and jaw.

You both moaned at the perfect feeling of his hard length inside you, in and out, harder and faster as he hit the spot inside you that made you forget all words other than his name.

“Aemond,” you gasped.

“My wife, you are my wife,” he grunted. “I am going to fill you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you whined.

“I am going to fill you with my seed, I will see you round with my child myself,” he said through clenched teeth as he neared his peak.

“Yes, yes, please, husband, fill me,” you moaned.

With a few more thrusts you reached your releases together and he moaned your name.

You smiled up at him and he gave you that gentle smile he reserved only for you and kissed you once more.

————-

Hours later Aemond cradled you to his chest and you ran your hand up and down his torso.

“I want you to know I would not change a thing. Our lives have been messy and filled with dark deeds due to our love for one another, but I would not change it. We have our perfect little son and I have never been happier,” you said and had to swallow your emotions in order to continue to speak.

With a finger under your chin he turned your head to look at him.

“Aemond, I would relive it. I would suffer through it all again if I knew this was the result. If I knew you were waiting for me, that you would call me your wife and hold me in your arms. I would suffer anything for this, for you.”

He pulled you into a gentle but life altering kiss.

“You have all my love and devotion, dear heart. I would do anything for you. I have killed for you, and would do so again. I would die for you if necessary. I would do anything you asked of me. Anything to ensure your safety and the safety of our child. You are mine to care for and protect now and I swear to you, your loving husband shall fulfill his duties.”

This time you let the tears fall, tears of joy rather than pain, and your husband kissed them away.

—————-

There was a warm hand on your back and you groaned as you woke.

The hand rubbed up and down your spine and you blinked your eyes open.

“Aemond,” you said in shock.

He smiled.

“Why do you sound so surprised that your husband is in your bed?” he asked teasingly.

You decided to throw yourself in his arms and kiss him rather than reply.

He chuckled and squeezed you tightly as you kissed him.

“I never thought this would happen,” you whispered against his lips.

He kissed you tenderly.

“Waking up to you is the happiest I have been in my life,” he said.

“We are married,” you said with a grin.

“Yes, it was only yesterday, did you already forget?”

“Don’t tease. I just still cannot believe it. My wildest dream has come true,” you said and kissed him again.

“You are mine and I am yours,” he murmured as his lips trailed to your throat.

“Forever,” you gasped as he used his teeth.

“Mmhmm.”

And your husband pleasured you well into the morning, just as he would for the rest of your lives together.

The End

Epilogue

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x female!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fluff #broken vows #my writing

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fruit-of-infidelity · 1 year

Text

♱ DIABOLIK LOVERS: Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sakamaki Reiji | Dark 3½ ♱

⌜ Scene: School Hallway ⌟

Teacher: Please wait here, Komori-san. I’ll fetch it for you right away.

Yui: Thank you very much.

ー The door closes. ー

( I wasn’t sure where would be best to ask for a fresh uniform… But, thankfully, the office was the right place! )

( I thought I planned ahead, but I guess my period came a little earlier than expected… )

ー There is a brief flashback. ー

Ayato: …Sniff, sniff.

Where’s that smell comin’ from?

Yui: Ayato-kun, please don’t lean in so close.

ー The school bell chimes. ー

Teacher: Please do your best to revise these terms by our next lesson.

Ayato: Oi… Chichinashi, stand up.

Yui: Wait… Just a moment, I’m not ready to go yet.

Ayato: Don’t care, get up. I’d recognise that smell anywhere…

ー He yanks her to her feet as students file out. ー

Yui: A-Ayato-kun! What on earth are you…

Ayato: …Heheh, looks like I was right.

ー He leans in to whisper. ー

Take a look; Reckon you might wanna take a detour to the bathroom?

Yui: E-Eh…?

ー Flashback ends. ー

Uu… How embarrassing!

( Bleeding right through my skirt like that… I don’t usually have such a heavy flow! )

( At least I haven’t heard anymore about it from Ayato-kun since that class. And, in a way, thankfully he pointed it out… )

( Now that it’s the end of the day though, I simply came back to collect my skirt, and… )

( My panties… )

I hope the limousine driver doesn’t mind waiting a few extra minutes.

Reiji: I do hope you took me into consideration, too.

Yui: …!!

R-Reiji-san…

Reiji: Why are you stood out-front the office? Do not tell me you have caused noticeable trouble in your first week, alone?

Yui: That’s not it, at all. You see, I’m just collecting something…

Reiji: Is that so?

Yui: Yes… I’ll only be a few more minutes, I’m sure!

Please don’t wait up for me, I’ll meet you and the others in the limousine.

ー The office door opens. ー

Ryuuto: I believe these are yours?

Yui: E-Eep!

ー Ryuuto appears, holding Yui’s skirt and panties. ー

Reiji: Oh my?

Yui: R-Ryuuto-san!? H-How did you…

( H-He’s holding my panties and skirt like it’s nothing! )

ー She snatches them from him. ー

( How embarrassing!! )

Reiji: Care to explain why Ryuuto was in possession of these?

━─┉┈◈ Selection ◈┈┉─━

　　❈ It's not what it looks like! ( ♥ )

Yui: W-Wha…!

R-Really, this is a big misunderstanding!

Reiji: You understand how this looks for you, do you not? Then, you would understand why I find you hard to believe?

Ryuuto, do you care to comment?

Ryuuto: What can I say? I am simply returning to her what she left behind.

Reiji: “Left behind”? Good grief.

Yui: Pl-Please, it’s really not what it looks like…!

　　❈ How should I know!?

Yui: “C-Care to explain”!? R-Ryuuto-san should be the one explaining…!!

I don’t know why he had my… th-things!

Reiji: Is this why you just insisted I was not to “wait up” for you?Yui: No, it’s not like that!

━━─┉┈┈◈◉◈┈┈┉─━━

Yui: ( There’s no way, I’m going to die of embarrassment at this rate…! )

R-Ryuuto-san… What w-were you doing with my clothes?

Ryuuto: You had left them in the office, hadn’t you? When I heard you had dropped by, I thought I’d return them to you like you ask.

Yui: D-Don’t say it so suspiciously!!

It was a teacher that I asked to return these to me, anyhow!

Reiji: A teacher? This hole is being dug deeper, by the second…

Yui: ( Not in that way!! )

Reiji: What’s more, with the lingering scent of blood...

Yui: That’s b-because… Well…

( Uu… This is awful…! )

Reiji: Go on.

Yui: ( I don’t have a choice! )

Because I’m on my p-period!

Reiji: Does that exclude you from such relations? I think not.

Ryuuto: Whilst you clear the air, I’ll take my leave.

Although, do place your faith in your prey once in a while, Reiji. You may be surprised how far it will get you, fufufu…

Take care now, Yui.

Yui: Wait, you can’t just leave…!

ー Ryuuto teleports away. ー

No way…

( I’m done for. )

Reiji: …Good grief. It appears you need stricter training than I first thought, should this situation truthfully equate to what it seems.

If not…

Yui: … …

Reiji: Well, let us prepare for the worse-case scenario, shall we?

From the top, I’ll have you explain once more.

Yui: ( Uu… What a terrible misunderstanding… )

✥ TO BE CONTINUED ✥

─────── ≪ °♛° ≫ ───────

← [ ✥ Dark 03 ✥ ]⎥ [ ✥ Dark 04 ✥ ] → 　　　　　[ ✥ Dark 7½ ✥ ]

#Diabolik Lovers #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers #reiji sakamaki #sakamaki reiji #reiji route #sakamaki reiji route #reiji sakamaki route #haunted dark bridal #hdbreijidark #haunted dark bridal mini chapters

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 2 years

Text

For All That Was Lost

BLEACH Anime Celebration - Day 3: Loss

Rating: K+ with mild themes

Setting: Sometime before chapter 686, during autumn or winter.

Synopsis: While on a visit to the World of the Living, Shinji and Momo reflect on what was lost and what was saved.

AN: so this is a little bit late, due to 1) the original copy not saving properly, and 2) becoming unwieldy and going from 700 to 2000+ words. Anyhow, I present a brotp fic with one of the best captain-lieutenant duos. This may or may not have been a deleted scene from my other fic As Months Go By, As Season Change slightly remodeled for these prompts; you don’t need to have read it (or part 2 whenever it comes out) to understand what’s going on here. Also, it just dove-tailed from the last fic I wrote, To Give Your Shelter.

Also, in case you’re wondering, this is what Shinji is wearing (minus the beret and fancy shoes).

I hope you enjoy this one!

___________________________

“This is hardly warranting of a video, sir.”

“But it’s a historic moment! Hold on a sec.”

Momo loses the fight to not smile as her captain fishes his denreishinkai out of his coat pocket with his free hand.

All around them, humans walk past, some glancing at Shinji while he unlocks his phone and gets the camera ready. Momo knew even before they’d arrived at Karakura Town he would choose to dress to stand out, and he didn’t disappoint with the pale purple turtle neck, baggy coat, and orange-tinted sunglasses with the attached chain looping around the back of his neck. She’d gone for something tamer – a pale pink sweater, black and white pleated skirt, and dark stockings – which got a mocking sigh of disappointment from her captain. ‘Honestly, Hinamori, you haven’t been keeping up with the trends of the World of the Living!’ he’d teased.

Well, looking around, she’d say she was closer to whatever clothing trends humans had in this city. When he finally has the camera ready, she sighs through her nose. “How about a photo instead?”

He looks at her from over the sunglasses, and she looks right back, unyielding. It’s a staring contest for almost thirty seconds when Shinji gives her a defeated smirk. “Well, I guess it’s a good compromise.”

He shuffles next to her and leans back, holding the denreishinkai far enough to get both of their heads and the café behind them in view. “All right, hold up your coffee.”

She does so and widens her smile into a grin.

“To trying café coffee for the first time!” he cheers, ‘clinking’ his foam cup against hers.

“Honestly, sir,” she chuckles.

He snaps a few pictures, with only difference in any of them being one without his sunglasses; she likes that one best. She makes a mental note to get a copy from him later.

“Right, let’s get going,” he says while putting his denreishinkai away. “Hiyori’s gonna kick my ass if we don’t get to the warehouse on time.”

They start down the bustling street, passing an array of shops and restaurants. Momo begins to wish she’d taken more than one day off to visit the World of the Living; there’s several shops she would walk into and an izakaya she could see herself, Rangiku, Toshiro, Izuru, and Renji going eat at.

Shinji starts on his double espresso, and after the first sip, gives a long, approving hum. “Now that is coffee.”

He looks at her expectantly. Momo will never understand how the most trivial things are get the most authoritative looks out of him.

“It still feels too hot,” she says with a nervous chuckle.

He shrugs. “Just don’t let it get cold. It’ll tastes more bitter. It’s not like iced coffee when that happens.”

“Iced coffee? You can have it cold too?”

“Weren’t you paying attention to menu boards?” he chortles.

“Honestly, I couldn’t get over the pastries they had there.” She grins. “They were so pretty! I almost bought one.”

“Well, why didn’t ya?”

“We wouldn’t have time to eat it. Besides, it’d probably get messed up on our way to see Sarugaki-san and the others.”

“They have containers to stop that from happening, dummy.”

“Oh.”

He glances over his shoulder, the café almost a tiny rectangle in the distance. It’d too far for either of them to run back and get anything.

Momo waves her free hand. “If I have time on the way back, I’ll get something then.”

They continue on down the city street, weaving their way through groups of humans. Despite their brisk pace, Momo takes everything in. Some of the stores and restaurants remind her of those in Rukongai, and some of the technology is similar to what had recently been developed by the Twelfth Division. She’s never seen so many humans before, nor such tall building in the World of the Living. It’d been decades since she last in this world, and until now she’d only ever heard about it’s development from Shinigami who were sent on patrols to the cities and towns.

She looks at her captain when they stop at a traffic crossing. Despite what he wore and his bright blonde hair, he oddly fitted in with the rest of the humans. The way he held himself, slightly hunched in the shoulders and a hand stuffed into his pants pocket, it not only made him appear more casual - not that he was ever as stoic or formal as some of the other captains were in the first place. He’d lived this world for over a hundred years, probably knows this town like the back of his hand, it’s understandable he’d feel relaxed being here.

Momo decides if they have time, she’ll ask him to show her the places he’d worked at and question him and the other Visoreds about what had changed the most in Karakura Town.

At the green light, they cross to the other side. Along the way, a strong gust of wind blows through, causing Momo and most others to huddle in on themselves. Shinji though remain standing straight, his coat and the chain attached to his sunglasses blowing out behind him as he takes another sip of coffee. For a moment he looks like one of the models from one of the magazines he read.

Momo chuckles, tempted to get her denreishinkai and take a picture.

“What’re you laughing about?” he asks once they reach other side of the street and into a courtyard.

“It’s nothing.”

“Well, it’s gotta be something or else ya wouldn’t…” He does a double take, gaze going over her head. “No way!”

Momo blinks and comes to a stilted stop. Her captain is frozen with his mouth agape. Following his line of sight, he’s staring wide eyed at a shop on the opposite side of the courtyard. AB Cookies.

“Do you know that place?” she asks.

“Yeah, but last I saw it, it was on a different street. She must’ve moved it.”

“She?”

“Kurosaki Orihime.”

Momo’s eyes widen. “I had no idea she worked in a bakery. Is she the manager?”

“Co-manager.” Shinji checks his watch, then looks between further down the street and AB Cookie. After a beat, be mutters under his breath, “Screw it.” Then, to Momo, “You’ve met Orihime before, right?”

She nods.

“Well, I’m thinking you wanted to get something before, and I guess we shouldn’t come empty handed if we’re late.” Without warning, he walks speedily towards the bakery. “So, we might as well get a peace offering before we arrive!”

Taking the hint, she catches up to him.

Walking into the bakery, Momo is greeted by various sweet scents and brightly colored decor. There are only a few tables and chairs inside, all of them up against the wide windows that look out onto the courtyard. The glass counter is full of pastries, and the wall behind it lined with different breads. Some baked goods look like nothing she’d ever seen, and upon reading a few of their labels, she raises a brow.

“Raisins and leek?” she says under her breath. “Strawberry and seaweed?”

Shinji doesn’t notice her bewilderment as he sidles up to the cash register.

“Yo, anyone in?” he calls out. When no answer comes, he tries peering through the doorway off to the left of the breads. “Says it’s open. Maybe she’s-”

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Orihime walks through the doorway, wearing a uniform that matches the sweet aesthetic of the decor. “Welcome to AB Cookies, how can I….?” She blinks at Shinji, who just grins back in return. “Hirako-san!”

“Nice to see you, Kurosaki.” He gestures to Momo. “You remember Hinamori, right?”

Momo quickly straightens and bows her head. “It’s good to see you, Kurosaki-san.”

“Likewise, Lieutenant Hinamori. What brings you both here? Are you visiting?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately we’re short on time,” Shinji answers. “Here to visit Hiryori and the others.”

“Ah, I see. We saw them just last week actually.”

“For real? Why?”

Orihime’s smile turns rueful. “Kazui went off exploring and bumped into Aikawa-san. He brought him home before he could wonder into the warehouse.”

“Geez, kid sounds like his dad, wondering into places he shouldn’t.” Then, with a teasing lit, “You were a bit like too, now that I think about it.”

That gets a nervous chuckle out of Orihime. “I guess so.”

Shinji leans an arm on the counter. “Next time I’m here, I’ll swing by and see Ichigo too. In the meantime, I came by to see if you could give me your best donuts.”

Orihime grabs a nearby pair of tongs and gestures to a cabinet on the right. “How many would you like? We do a special for a dozen.”

“A dozen it is!” Shinji turns to Momo. “Which ones do ya want? Or would like something else?”

Momo would argue that he didn’t need to pay for her snack, but she knows he’ll insist until they get into an argument which would probably make them late.

That, and the donuts are all very cute. Most looked like animals, including a cat with chocolate whiskers and a rabbit with almond ears. The few that didn’t have an animal design were glazed in fluro colors with floral designs in white frosting.

She points to the donut shaped like a tiger. “I’ll have a yuzu one, please.”

Shinji makes a choked sound. Glancing up at her captain, she discovers he’s trying to withhold laughter. She goes to ask what’s funny, but he’s quick to start picking the other donuts.

As Orihime bustles about folding up a box and putting their selection into it, Shinji asks her about Ichigo and Kazui, the store, and a few people Momo assumes are humans.

However, she doesn’t listen to their conversation, instead becoming focused on Orihime herself. To think one of the saviors of the Soul Society runs a bakery. Considering her role in the war, it’s humbling to find out she lives a life like this, with a family of her own and in a job that’s far more peaceful than a Shinigami’s.

She smiles so brightly, even after everything that happened. Everyone had moved on from the war and Aizen’s betrayal in their own, but some still struggle to do so. They can’t forget what they saw, or what they lost, or who they’d lost.

There are times where Momo suddenly remembers someone who was no longer alive; a subordinate or seated officer, a friend from another division, and sometimes someone who is alive but had lost a part to themselves – whether it was a limb or an aspect of themselves hardened by what they saw and experienced. She also remembers wonderment some had in their eyes as they spoke of the World of Living after coming back from a posting, hoping to go back again when they were on leave and see and try thing that were unlike anything in the Soul Society.

“Oi, Hinamori.”

Momo blinks out of her reverie. “Captain?”

Shinji and Orihime look at her, the former with a slight furrow in his brow and the latter holding out the box of donuts to him.

“You spacing out?” Shinji asks.

“Sorry! I was just thinking, that, uh…this bakery is amazing. Kurosaki-san, did you bake everything here yourself?”

Something changes in Orihime’s smile, but Momo can’t put her finger on it. Regardless, Orihime answers, “Oh, thank you! I bake most of it with the help of Harumi-san and Ito-kun. They’re on their break right now, otherwise I’d introduce you to them.”

Momo manages a smile. “It looks like a lot of hard work. I’m looking forward to trying the donuts.”

Shinji takes the box of donuts and turns back to Orihime. “As is, we’ll be back for more some other time. Say ‘hi’ to Ichigo and Kazui-chan for me, yeah?”

After bidding farewell, they’re quick to return to the courtyard and speedily walk to the warehouse.

For Momo, stepping back out is like being in a different world. At least the Arrancar and Hollows were aware that a war took place, but no one here would except those who had been at the battle itself. A small part of her bitterly thinks how none of the humans anywhere will ever know of the sacrifices made or the lives lost to save them all. Perhaps more than that though, she’s sad that none of those who are gone will ever get a chance to do what they wanted in the World of Living. Some may have already reincarnated as a human, but they aren’t the same person she knew them as.

“Looks like you’re spacing out again.”

They’re on a different street now, heading towards a park only a few feet away. She’d barely notice the change in scenery, nor how slow their walking pace had become.

As they cross on to the path that winds through the park, she sighs. “I was just thinking that this world almost vanished during the war.” She swallows against the lump building up in her throat. “We’re taught our duty as a Shinigami is to maintain to balance and project lives that aren’t involved in our world. The humans will never know that, and it’s better of course that they don’t, but even so...”

She tilts her head back, watching the clouds move by through the leaves and branches that arc over them. Shinji’s face loses any traces of humor as his gaze falls to the ground.

When he says nothing, Momo starts to ramble. “Hirose-san wanted to go to a flower festival in the country side. She heard about it while on a posting in a seaside town, a lot of the residents traveled from there to go. She wanted to see if all the flora there was like ours.

"Hoga-san and Domen-kun both wanted to go to a beach, neither of them had seen the sea before. They also wanted to go to the bars and see if the drinks here taste any different from those in the Rukongai.

"Funai-kun wanted to go to a festival here. He said he saw something called a Ferris wheel and wanted to go on it.”

An amused snort comes from Shinji. “That right? Thought he didn’t like heights.”

“Are they tall?”

“Yeah. You get into one of the carts on this massive wheel and they take you up for a spin.”

“That sounds strange.”

“Nah, not like a fast spin. It’s slow so you get to take in the scenery.”

Momo smiles. “That’s probably why he wanted to go in one. He wanted to look for a new landscape to paint.”

They come to a natural stop at the side of the path. Though the look Shinji levels at her appears nonchalant, she knows better.

“I get it," he says, "but this is the way it has to be.”

“...I know.”

“Like you said, it’s how we’re trained to think. We screwed up in the past with the Quincy and others, but I’d like to we’ve finally learned from it.” He takes a sip of coffee and ponders for a moment. “We’re also taught to lay down our lives for our friends and family. In doing so, we can go knowing we fought with everything we had, that we protected the worlds for all the inhabitants.”

And this fleeting feeling, of nostalgia and fondness, collides with what Momo sees all round her.

Surrounded by leafy green trees and shrubs, flowers swaying in the breeze, and humans, gathered as families or friends or alone on park benches, it’s all life. The children can continue to laugh and smile, the adults can keep their heads up and continue to try to provide for and help each other without being burdened by something so existential. To wish that they knew about the war that almost made this world vanish would not only burden them, abut also be a disservice to the friends and subordinates she’d lost, who gave their lives to ensure no one suffered. That the wonders this world has could continue to amaze the humans and Shinigami for decades to come.

“If there’s one thing I learned while living here it’s that human screw up, a lot. Some more than others…”

Her captain’s words stop her from becoming overwhelmed. She looks back to him, about to question him, but stops when his smile returns a fraction.

“But there’s that chance to change,” he continues. "Not everyone takes it, but for those that do, for those who choose to do the right thing, for those who choose to keep walking after going through hardships, I think that’s reason enough to keep this world.”

Momo is momentarily speechless, taken aback by the uncharacteristic sentimentally of her captain. “That’s…awfully wise for you, sir.”

He blinks at that, and then laughs in shock. “What kind of back-handed compliment is that?!”

“Ah, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just…I’m not used to speaking like that.”

“Well, when you get to my age, you learn a lot. In fact, get your denreishinkai out and write down whatever I just said! We’re gonna write it as part of a field report for today.”

She laughs at that. “Sir, we’re not on duty!”

Shinji starts laughing too. “Doesn’t matter, our division’s gotta know what they’re fighting for and that’s the best way I’ve ever worded it.”

Her smile is wide as she shakes her. "I'll type it up later."

Shinji points to her cup as he takes one last sip of his own. “Still haven’t tried your coffee. Has it gone cold?”

She'd almost forgotten about it. “It’s still warm.”

Momo finds herself looking around the park again, at all the humans going in and out. Then, she raises the latte to her lips and takes a sip.

For all that was lost, there was much more still alive.

“It’s good.”

___________________________

BONUS SCENE

Momo goes to knock on the warehouse’s entrance, but Shinji steps in front of her.

“No need. Besides, you’ll want me to go in first.”

Momo raises a brow at that, but doesn’t say anything as her captain opens the door. He starts to announce their arrival when a red blur comes barreling towards them, jumping from somewhere up high and landing right in front of Shinji.

“You’re late!” Hiyori shouts.

Shinji scrambles to put the box of donuts in front of him and raise its lid. “Do you really wanna ruin these?!”

Hiyori pauses, one of her sandals raised high. She glares down at the donuts, eyeing each one as if assessing an enemy. Shinji doesn’t move a muscle, not even to reign in his deep-set scowl or look back at Momo. It was as if he were a student waiting for the approval of a teacher who is always hard to please.

What feels like a minute later, Hiyori sniffs, then lifts her foot and puts her sandal back on. “Fine.” She snatches the box from Shinji. “At least you got enough for all of us.”

“You’re welcome” Shinji snarks as she steps aside to let them in.

Hiyori ignores him, instead nodding at Momo. “I bet you’re the reason he isn’t twenty minutes late, but he’s the reason you’re five minutes later. If you can get him down to two minutes, I’ll shout you dinner next time you’re here.”

Shinji gawks. “Since when do you pay for other people’s dinners?”

“Since she’s had to put up with you, Baldy!”

Momo edges her way past the two as they get into an argument. She meets the gazes of the remaining three Visoreds. Aizawa slowly makes his way towards her and Hachigen follows.

“Hinamori-san, right?” Love says as he nears. “Didn’t really get a chance to speak back during the war.”

“It’s good to finally meet you, Lieutenant,” Hachigen greets.

Although she feels a slight thrum of anxiety, Momo is surprised how calm she is. Perhaps because she met them during the war before they went to the Soul Palace, and they’d help seal the cracks between the Soul Society and the World of the Living; without their efforts, who knew how the war would’ve turned out. Before any of that, she’d seen and heard Shinji speak to these people over the denreishikai. He’d talked about them both fondly and in annoyance, but she could tell the connection he has towards them ran deep.

“Hello, Aizawa-san, and Ushoda-san” she greets in return with a bow of her head. “I’ve looked forward to finally speaking with you all.”

#bleach returns 2022 #shinji hirako #momo hinamori #brotp: the fifth division #orihime inoue #hiyori sarugaki #love aikawa #hachigen ushoda #lisa yadomaru #bleach #fanfiction #yes Shinji really was about to film Momo drinking her first cafe coffee #he's basically a proud dad #also did anyone pick up the 'Tiger of Paperwork' reference? ;)#I'm going to need to come back and edit this #but I figured I better post it up in the meantime

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shannyh25 · 1 year

Text

Well, how do you like them?” said Marilla.

Anne was standing in the gable room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed. One was of snuffy colored gingham which Marilla had been tempted to buy from a peddler the preceding summer because it looked so serviceable; one was of black-and-white checkered sateen which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter; and one was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade which she had purchased that week at a Carmody store.

She had made them up herself, and they were all made alike—plain skirts fulled tightly to plain waists, with sleeves as plain as waist and skirt and tight as sleeves could be.

“I’ll imagine that I like them,” said Anne soberly.

“I don’t want you to imagine it,” said Marilla, offended. “Oh, I can see you don’t like the dresses! What is the matter with them? Aren’t they neat and clean and new?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you like them?”

“They’re—they’re not—pretty,” said Anne reluctantly.

“Pretty!” Marilla sniffed. “I didn’t trouble my head about getting pretty dresses for you. I don’t believe in pampering vanity, Anne, I’ll tell you that right off. Those dresses are good, sensible, serviceable dresses, without any frills or furbelows about them, and they’re all you’ll get this summer. The brown gingham and the blue print will do you for school when you begin to go. The sateen is for church and Sunday school. I’ll expect you to keep them neat and clean and not to tear them. I should think you’d be grateful to get most anything after those skimpy wincey things you’ve been wearing.”

“Oh, I AM grateful,” protested Anne. “But I’d be ever so much gratefuller if—if you’d made just one of them with puffed sleeves. Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now. It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves.”

“Well, you’ll have to do without your thrill. I hadn’t any material to waste on puffed sleeves. I think they are ridiculous-looking things anyhow. I prefer the plain, sensible ones.”

“But I’d rather look ridiculous when everybody else does than plain and sensible all by myself,” persisted Anne mournfully.

“Trust you for that! Well, hang those dresses carefully up in your closet, and then sit down and learn the Sunday school lesson. I got a quarterly from Mr. Bell for you and you’ll go to Sunday school tomorrow,” said Marilla, disappearing downstairs in high dudgeon. Lucy Maud Montgomery quotes- Anne Of Green Gables.

Follow me for more inspiration! 💜💕

#anne of green gables #anne shirley #he's like: seriously marilla #follow for follow #follow for updates

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lifesupreme-if · 2 years

Note

do the ROs have a favourite outfit for when they want to feel sexy/impress someone? Bonus, how would they feel about an MC dressing up and admitting it was to impress them

dylan: she's always dressed to impress (and seduce), so her day-to-day clothes will suffice. she wears what makes her feel good about herself (or as good as she can feel. it's at least what she feels she looks good in).

stéphanie: doesn't dress to impress anyone, owns nothing fancy or nice, would feel like she didn't deserve it if she did. she's cool with showing off her birthday suit to a lover if she wants to feel sexy tho B)

dorothea: has never dressed to impress anyone in her adult life, but she does try to wear something less stained and makes sure that her hands and car are washed if she's particularly interested in someone.... tries to ensure her hair is done nicely, very embarrassed

[locked]: her titties are OUT. her skirt is SHORT. her heels are STILETTO. she is always sexy and impressive. nothing particular needed.

bonus:

how would they feel about an MC dressing up and admitting it was to impress them?

dylan: she loves it! she noticed immediately that you were dressed nicely, oh you look great, wow—flustered and short circuiting when you admit it's for her. thank you?! she thinks you look amazing in anything, you could wear nothing and it'd still impress her–well, not nothing–well, NOTHING—ERK. she'll shut her mouth now. very touched.

stéphanie: she'll hype you up and act like you DEFINITELY have somewhere to be. why are you dressed so nicely otherwise? when you admit you have nowhere to go, she thinks it's very sexy. you dressed up for her. that is so. hot. smug and contented, flirty, says you should dress that way more often

dorothea: thinks you look cute! uh, but aren't you going to get that dirty? okay, it's your funeral. clothes get dirty anyhow, but she feels guilty when yours do—she's sorry, a sad, apologetic puppy dog. but you admit you only dressed up for her, and she can't comprehend it for a second. what?!?!?!? for HER?! but why would you—oh. oh. more flattered by the gesture than the cute clothes, says she likes you more in the stuff you wear every day. (would prefer to see you dressed down, rather than dressed up. a t-shirt and jeans? uhhhhhhhh. *ogling*)

[locked]: took note of the nicer outfit as soon as you walked in, complimented it, made sure to say it's better than that trash you usually wear. finally, you're gaining a sense of fashion. when you later say it was for her, she CACKLES. this is so fucking funny, you little tryhard. might as well not waste it. whispering dirty nothings into your ear ;)

#anon #ro: dylan #ro: stéphanie #ro: dorothea #[locked] ro #THANK YOU >:)

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addictedtostorytelling · 2 years

Note

I'm rewatching some of my fave gsr scenes and what are your thoughts about sara finding grissom's unsent mail? Do you think that was intentional? If it was, why do you think he left it there to be found? Seems like their relationship has been better anyway since he came back from sabbatical. Thanks! Looking forward to your unique gsr insights once again. ❤️

hi, anon!

this may be an unpopular opinion, but i don't actually think grissom means for sara to find the letter.

personally, i think that if he intended for her to read it, he would give it to her directly, not tuck it away somewhere where she may or may not ever actually happen to find it.

to my mind, by the events of episode 07x22 “leapin’ lizards,” he has long since decided that the letter is an inadequate expression of his love for her and that he is better off showing her how he feels with gestures (rather than borrowing the words of the bard).

that so, i don’t think he really ever has any desire for her to read the letter—hence why he is using it as a bookmark.

as i talk about here:

while some fans believe that grissom and sara have no contact with each other for the entire five weeks that grissom is in massachusetts, i believe that they actually do—it's just that their communication during this time is strained, as grissom realizes that he hurt sara's feelings by leaving her behind and feels awkward but doesn't know what to do to help the situation from so far away, while meanwhile sara wonders if maybe grissom isn't as invested in their relationship as she is but is too afraid to ask him where his feelings in reality lie, particularly given the (both physical and relational) distance between them atm.

rather than not talking altogether, i believe they spend this period of separation languishing, having the kind of stilted phone calls where they discuss everything BUT their real feelings, sending occasional fumbling emails that skirt around the big issues, and both generally fretting about where they ultimately stand with each other but being too scared to out-and-out ask the other person for a clue...

[the whole time, grissom is] worrying that he’s fucked things up by making the decision to leave without considering the personal implications of him doing so. he can sense that sara is upset but he doesn’t know how to really broach the subject or do anything to fix the problem remotely—and especially not when she seems so thoroughly committed to withholding her true feelings from him, regardless of anything he might say or do.

on her side of things, sara is worried about the meaning of everything. grissom left, and she doesn’t know what his leaving indicates, in terms of their relationship. he seldom voices his feelings, and so she’s not sure what they are. she’s feeling the strain of keeping their shared life a secret more strongly than ever, but at the same time she doesn’t dare to complain because she doesn’t want to upset their delicate balance. so as not to do anything to spook him, she elects to suffer in silence, holding her breath as she waits for some kind of confirmation that he loves her in the same bone-deep, forever kind of way that she does him.

the longer grissom is away, the more desperately he wants to bridge the gap between them and just out and tell sara how he really feels.

however, when push comes to shove, he finds that words fail to convey the enormity of his feelings for her—hence the reason why he ultimately does not send the love letter he writes to her in episode 07x14 "meet market," deciding instead that maybe the best option for him is just to try to show her how he feels with his actions (which have always felt like a surer thing to him than words anyhow) once he gets home.

of course, the irony of grissom deciding that the letter isn’t good enough for sara is that when she finds and reads it on the sly, it is basically the exact kind of reassurance she was looking for, with regards to his feelings.

i mean, just look at her face while she reads: that girl is enchanted by the sheer romance of it all!

while i don’t think he would ultimately be upset, were he to find out that sara does eventually read the letter, i also don’t believe it’s something he actively seeks to have happen, either.

to his mind, there are better, more evocative ways for him to show her that he loves her—and especially now that he’s back from sabbatical.

that’s my take.

ymmv, though!

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: grissom #07x22 #let's talk shop #csiverse

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honeyed-obscenities · 1 year

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Dust and Gauzy Ribbon (House of Wax Soulmate AU)

Some might remember me from a stint of writing horror fanfic more than a year ago now. Originally this was an idea I'd tossed around with another horror writer, aggravatetheaxe, and recently found inspiration to write on my own. We never got very far conceptually outside of the MC being a ballet dancer and it being a soulmate au with a no-color-until-you-see-them flavor, so I would consider this to be more my own work at this point. Anyhow, I haven't edited this very much and I'm not sure I'll continue it but here we go.

Synopsis and Warnings: Dante is a ballet dancer on his way to a show, but the troupe gets lost in the back roads of Louisiana. Where Ambrose looks like salvation, they'll find nothing so pleasant.

House of Wax Soulmate AU (Greyscape to color upon meeting soulmate), OC insert, the usual death and such, drugging, vomit, minor implications of kidnapping. 18+ only, please (fair warning there's a large amount of exposition and the brothers aren't referenced by name at this juncture, but hopefully I did well enough making it clear who is who)

Continued below the cut

We got dressed on the bus. A troupe of dancers separated by sheets the makeup artists held up so the men wouldn't see the women and vice versa, getting into their dresses and tights and tutus and fussed over by the costuming team. Patrice put me in a bodice of lace and stretchy knit, the gauzy bows she tied over my shoulders trailing on my back and making me think something was crawling on me, and a skirt longer in the back than it was in the front.

“Legs are a ballet dancer's best quality,” she chimed pleasantly when I asked her why they cut the skirts so high in the front.

“Makes up for the state of their feet,” grumbled Malek, the fussier of our costuming duo.

Our costumes were all in dusty hues- or so I was told- to accentuate the somber tone of pieces we were dancing to. Patrice, having already found her soulmate, told me mine was primarily a lilac color, with the ties a dark ballet slipper pink. The colors meant little to many of us, but in my case I would never comment as much. My first teacher told us that the colors we wore were nearly as important as the steps we danced. “You will dance and dress as though your soulmate will first see you here,” she told the class. “For everyone in love, you will be beautiful. For everyone yet to find love, you will be stunning. But for the one you're meant to spend your life with, you will be unforgettable.” I don't expect I'll ever find my soulmate at a performance, but there's such a looming 'What if?' that it's almost a larger source of anxiety on the day of a performance than the actual dancing.

We were already late, or we never would have considered getting dressed on the way. Our makeup could be done in stages. Not everyone would be going on at the beginning of the show, thankfully. The most necessary of warm-ups would have to push the start time back a bit, if we were unlucky, but until then we made do by stretching against seats, still in our boots with our coats keeping us warm over the costumes. I kept my pointe shoes tied together and hanging around my neck so I wouldn't lose them in the chaos of the costuming and shuffle off the bus. Directors hated that I did that, but it was only the back-stage crew and other dancers there that night and I could do whatever I pleased.

“Dante.” I looked up from massaging the arch of my left foot. “Do you know what time the sun sets?” I quirked an eyebrow but picked up my phone. No signal.

“'Sets at night,” I offered. “Why?”

“It seems a bit dark, doesn't it?”

I glanced out the window. It was completely dark, actually. “It's the middle of winter. Besides, we're late but it's only five.”

“I thought the show was in a different time zone.”

Patrice looked up from fussing with a hem on another dancer's dress. “Is it really?”

“Remember? We were warned we'd have to leave earlier to account for the time change.”

“Does it go forward or backward, though?”

“Oh, God, man, I don't know.” The conversation continued on without me and my lacking knowledge of time, but I was already tuned in. Most people were just helping each other stretch and checking each others costumes for oddities. But at the front of the bus, the talk between Malek and our driver was getting heated. I pulled on my boot and stood, squeezing myself past those in the aisle and making my way carefully to the front. It was weirdly nostalgic to walk the narrow path of a bus in motion, even stranger to be doing so dressed in a way I never could on any other bus. Not peacefully, anyway.

“What's happening?” I asked Malek quietly, hoping to reset their conversation to a normal volume and intensity.

Malek huffed and hesitated to answer. “We're just a little lost.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again quickly, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Okay... Do we have a map to follow?”

Malek growled “Not unless you somehow have a signal.”

“I thought it was just down the highway until we got to the town?”

“It was. But-”

“You said you're late, so I took a shortcut!” the driver cut in. “Get off my dick and we'll get there fine.”

“You're lost, jackass! It's dark already- If we miss this show you can forget getting paid because we certainly aren't.”

“Hey,” I pressed my knuckles against Malek's arm solidly. “You wanna keep it down? They're already stressed about being late. I don't want everyone freaking out about being lost. Especially not like this. Middle of winter in the dark with no phone signal? Come on.”

Malek gritted his teeth but exhaled and glanced back to everyone else. “Alright, alright. Look, man, do you have any idea where we are?”

“As soon as I find a crossroads, we're in the clear,” the driver assured. “We're a little off course because of a road closure. You know how it is this time of year.”

“So we'll be fine! Besides, look at that.” I pointed out a billboard.

Malek squinted, forgetting his nearsightedness and the glasses perched in his hair. “Ambrose. What of it?”

“If we really need to, we can stop and ask for directions. As long as we keep everyone on the bus, it won't take five minutes.”

“That billboard looked kind of old. It better not be a ghost town dead end,” Malek fretted with an undertone of threat to the driver.

“Everything's old here,” I shrugged. “It's the back roads. Look. You see the lights? We'll be okay.”

˅˄˅

There was an indication of life. Lights, streets full of cars, the sounds of the theater escaping through the doors. And us. We hadn't seen the dip in the road- a wet ditch, really- before we ran right through it. Ballerinas tossed a foot in the air and all the accoutrement scattered across the seats and floor. 'Less than five minutes' I'd said, but there was no way that was going to happen. Malek and the driver held a shouting match over whether or not it was worth the time to check the bus for damage. Sense won out, as it always had against Malek's disdain, and not even his yelling could keep battered and bruised ballerinas in their seats while there was an opportunity to stretch their legs in the fresh air.

And yet, despite our clamor, no one came outside to greet us or even wonder what a bus full of people like us was doing here and blocking the road. The theater advertised its showing of 'What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?'. An arguably rude choice. Ever since film makers had regular access to color film, anything filmed purposefully in black and white had a mark on its name. Most found it mocking, as if they were saying not enough people watching would have found their soulmate for them to bother with showing color. The stance was bleak, but in the time where color would be more costly I could have understood the feeling. At least a little.

A tap on my shoulder made me jump and I turned to Patrice. “Malek is going with the driver to the gas station down that way to ask for directions. I want to keep an eye on the other dancers- Do you think you could go to the store over there and get us some snacks or drinks? Nothing heavy, okay?” She pressed a bill into my hand and nodded toward the small store.

I sighed. It was a step up from babysitting. “Yeah, sure. Should I ask about the time, too?” I grinned.

She smiled and pushed my shoulder. “Get me something sweet, too, okay?”

I crossed the street and passed between two cars and onto the sidewalk, looking into the theater as I approached the corner store. The greeter was wooden, staring dead-eyed out into the lobby like he couldn't be bothered to acknowledge us. Dickhead.

I was still looking into the theater as I pushed the door and found it wouldn't give. I paused, looking to make sure it was a pull and not a push and wiggled the handle. Locked. Glancing up, I was right when I read the sign as saying it was open 24 hours. Looking in, it was dim with no human presence. In a town so small, staying open 24 hours a day must have been more difficult than elsewhere. At least, I thought, the theater was certainly open. And most of those have concessions. A price gouge, maybe, but close enough.

Looking both ways reflexively, I crossed the street and saw Malek and our driver chatting with someone I couldn't see past the doorway of the gas station. At least they were making progress, it seemed. I pushed open the door of the movies and inhaled. What struck me first was the scent. It had been a while since I'd gone to the movies but I remembered the smell of popcorn being a heavy aspect. The popcorn smell was there, I was sure, but it was somehow wrong. Stale? Not warm, certainly. It didn't matter much. Popcorn wasn't the light sort of snack Patrice had in mind.

I approached the concessions counter and glanced halfway toward the ticket seller in his kiosk. “You know, the polite thing to do when you see people stopped with a busload of people like that is to see...” I trailed off as I focused on the concessions runner. “...If they need help.” I looked back at the ticket kiosk. Neither of these men were real, both covered in cobwebs with stock expressions and unnatural poses. I reached out to poke the concessions dummy in the cheek and rubbed the weird dust residue that stuck on my skin between my fingers. “Wax?” The billboard had advertised a house of wax, but this... This seemed like an odd gimmick for a museum.

A sharp, echoing crack wormed its way through the gaps in the doors. I crouched on instinct, glancing around for a shooter. The screams of a crowd of men and women came as a backing chorus to the second gunshot.

I'm not an idiot. I don't go looking for trouble by any stretch of the imagination. And I'm even less keen to search it out given that I'm a visibly non-white male and I was currently dressed in a bodice and skirt in what used to be a Confederate state. But if I didn't try to do something, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself.

With luck, the majority of people have never seen a ballerina fall. It often spells something grim for our careers- or at least something unsightly for those who have to see it- because the God's honest truth is that ballerinas do not fall with grace. I exited the theater in time to see a girl's chest to explode in blood and torn lace before she fell like a sack of rocks to the dirt. Blood is black when you can't see in color- Almost worse because when you're told blood is red for so long you can half convince yourself that it's not real. And watching my fellow dancers fallen and falling through the street, dressed in dainty outfits and screaming in a town that looked like a set piece, I wanted to believe this was a performance. A grim, one night only showcase that would sicken the audience, never to be performed again.

“Dante!” My skin prickled with the sound of Patrice's screaming. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Come on, uh-” I looked in the direction she'd come from, seeing a large form rounding the bus. Not one of us. “Fuck, we have to hide. Here.” I urged her to retreat with me into the theater and behind the ticket booth. “What happened? I was only gone a couple minutes.”

“I don't know! It- He...” Her eyes glossed over with tears and her expression wavered. “I-I think he killed Malek. I heard the driver yell and he was standing weird and then he fell and I-”

“Pat, breathe,” I cut her off. Half because she was panicking in earnest and half because I felt like if I heard anything more I'd throw up. “God, what...” How are we going to get out of here alive? I didn't ask the question out loud. I startled and looked her over. “He didn't get you, did he!? You're okay?”

She nodded, still crying but trying to keep her breathing from being too chaotic. “I think he's got a uh a shotgun? W-We might be okay if we can get far enough away, right?”

“Maybe,” I breathed, wanting to look through the ticket booth to see what was happening, shots and screams still vying for my attention, but I was too scared about what I might see or the possibility of being seen. “I... I don't know how many of us got away. Do you... Do you want to look for anyone he- that we can?”

To my surprise she shook her head definitively. “Are you crazy? The longer we spend here, the more chances he has to find us.” She thought for a moment. “Do you know if the driver took the keys with him? You were up there with him and Malek, right?”

“I don't know uh...” I thought hard. They were yelling at each other, everyone was pressing at my back to ask what was happening, but the driver opened the door and left before Malek could stop him... “No, I think the keys are on the bus! Can you drive?”

“I've never driven a bus, but I don't think it matters. If we can get back across that ditch, that will be enough, right?”

“They never looked it over, I don't think. What if something's busted?”

“Then we run!” She searched my face to make sure I understood. And in her eyes I could see what she meant, really. This wasn't a situation we'd all be able to escape alive- It was far too late to think like that. If we could get away, we had to take the chance and not stop for anything or anyone. As I nodded her eyes darted up and widened enormously. She gripped my shoulders, forcing me to the floor, and shouted. But a heat and sound burst at my back and drowned out her words- and everything else, to leave only a ringing before her grip slackened.

I opened my mouth. I don't know what I wanted to say, if I wanted to say anything at all. All that came out was a choked sound as I saw a black puddle drip and grow in the space between her knees and mine and a warm, wet sensation on my forehead. My stomach squeezed and writhed when I lifted my head and saw a growing black spot on Patrice's chest seeping through her shirt and the edge of her coat. Her hands were still on my shoulders, twitching like she was trying to regain control of them. “Nnn-no,” I managed, my tongue slow and feeling like it would choke me. “No, no, P-Patty, oh fuck, oh god, I-”

A metallic click and slide stopped me completely, numbing me from head to toe in fear. A shotgun shell clattered empty to the ground and rolled into my knee. I could hear the smooth slide of bullets being loaded and the clack of the gun being cocked behind my head was harsh and deafening even with the shot from only moments ago dampening sound. My skin felt cold enough to make me shiver in place and it felt like goosebumps covered every inch of me. I was too scared to even cry and every breath burned me from my mouth to the inside of my lungs.

Patrice wheezed and coughed lightly and I flinched, becoming lightheaded as though reality had slowed in my stupor and caught up with me. I finally moved, bringing a hand up toward the still growing patch of black on her chest. “Patty, a-are you-”

“Move,” she muttered. She didn't give me the option to answer, fingers finding purchase on my shoulder and pushing me as she spoke again. “Run, Dante. Go.” With a shove I didn't think she could manage she pushed me aside and kicked upward.

“FUCK!” The cry was strained and I looked back to see the man falling into a kneel, supporting himself with the butt of his shotgun and gripping between his legs. He snarled audibly and looked up.

Blue. I know that's what it was now, but in the moment all I saw was something I couldn't identify. A color in an expanse of black and white that I'd never seen before. His eyes betrayed his demeanor and expression with their vivid and oddly soft color despite being shrouded in shadow by a dingy baseball cap. Even without knowing color for all it is, that much I could feel from its hue. As our gazes stayed locked, his skin began to flesh out with color, filling in like a stain spreading on fabric from his face to his hair and down to his shirt and the rest of him. The longer he looked at me, the more his face relaxed and as it did the full weight of what was happening hit me in all its awful gravity. I broke eye contact and looked back to Patrice and cried out.

Red. Red red RED. I could feel my skin tingling with panic as I scrambled closer to her, pressing my fingers against her chest and pulling them away just as quickly. It felt too real. Too urgent. I wasn't wearing a coat and the blood bubbled from the wound too quick to think I could possibly stop it with pressure alone. I couldn't think clearly. I'd never seen something become so vivid and alarming with something as simple as knowing it had color.

“Dante,” she exhaled, and I could hear the wetness of her breathing. I was a wordless walking corpse, opening my mouth and letting out nothing but meaningless sounds as I moved my hands uselessly to try and find anything I could do to help. “Run.”

A command, it seemed, was what I needed to stop me from acting like I could do anything to help her now. I looked her in the eye and my breath hitched. Her eyes were blue, too.

I didn't look back at the man that had killed Patrice until I was already at the door, when the sensation of the door handle's metal brought me to the realization that I didn't remember getting up and moving. He was looking at me, his fingers tight around the shotgun and his mouth set in a line. I shuddered and forced myself to look away, running out the door and training my eyes to the ground. I wasn't going to risk stepping on anyone. I couldn't handle that.

I looked around and slowed my walk the more I took in. Color. I made a point not to look too long at anyone's body but I could see the blue of some of the costumes with... dark patches on parts of the fabric. Dire or not, I couldn't stop looking at all the new colors until my eyes fell on the bus.

I knew for a fact that our bus was meant to be yellow. I mentioned to Patrice how I hadn't been on a genuine school bus since I graduated high school, asking her if it was yellow like most school buses, as well. I wasn't used to seeing color yet, but I was certain this couldn't be yellow as it looked exactly the way it had the last I'd seen it. I glanced down, grabbing my skirt and lifting it toward a light source. There was no way that could be purple, or purple was just like gray and no one had ever informed me as much. I couldn't consider color blindness of any kind a possibility. We're taught how see the signs of color blindness, and the first two colors I saw were red and blue which negated every type as an option.

Finding my soulmate was already the most horrifying and disastrous experience I could have had- The idea that something was wrong with how I saw colors too was just another brick added to the weight that grew in my chest since I met his eyes. Just thinking the word 'soulmate' made my stomach lurch as I stumbled toward the bus. Part of me tried to reason that it didn't always mean a romantic comparability but rather a friendly one but considering I'd met him just after he shot one of my best friends it was almost more sickening to imagine I could be compatible with him in even the most basic of senses.

I got onto the bus, holding my breath in the hopes I would hear someone else inside. “Is anyone here?” I choked out, my mouth dry. I swallowed hard. “It's Dante...” No reply. I took a breath, knowing it wasn't the strongest possibility before I'd spoken but having still held out hope. I reached for the bus' ignition, feeling around and finding no key ring or lone key. I crouched, squinting in the light that peeked in through the windows and saw the ignition empty. “No... No, no FUCK!” I felt around with my hands on the floor, slapping the seat and shoving my fingers into every slot and holder I could find but there was nothing in any of them. I pressed my forearms against the seat and let my head fall into the cradle of my arms, knelt at the driver's seat like I was praying, and breathed in and out. I couldn't panic, not until I could be certain I was safe.

I exhaled tightly and stopped breathing to listen for anything outside. I couldn't hear footsteps in the dirt, nor any more gunshots and screams. The silence was foreboding, but it gave me the confidence to look out the front window to ensure no one was ahead on the street. My options were to check the driver's pockets for the keys or to run. I was reluctant to act on the former as I couldn't be sure where he was, alive or not, and going back and forth would have me passing where I'd left the killer not once but twice. A risky enough maneuver without considering that I had no way of knowing if the bus would get me far enough away to consider safe. Likely, my best option would be to pick a direction and run.

I exited the bus slowly, looking both ways and considering my options. I didn't see him in the street, and being a larger figure than any of us from the bus he would have been hard to miss. I'd have been too easy to find on the roads, never mind that I had no idea where I was. It had the probability of being a bad idea, but I felt as though my best option was through the woods on the other side of town. I hadn't seen any cars on the road, anyway, and couldn't be sure how far I was from somewhere occupied by anyone but this killer. In a situation like this, I had no guarantees no matter which direction I chose.

If I was going to run, I had to dedicate myself to the action. I took a deep inhale and started, measuring my footsteps to the gaps between bodies and keeping my eyes trained on the path ahead. Between my focus and the sounds of my heartbeat and breathing I didn't notice anything, the wind knocked out of me by an arm clothes-lining my midsection and lifting me off the ground. I let out a strangled cry, inhaling sharply and kicking my feet to try and find the ground again.

“Hey, hey, just- Shit- I ain't gonna hurt ya.” His voice was deep and directly next to my ear, close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear. His arm around my stomach, tight enough to crush me, the warm sensation of his breath, just knowing who he was meant to be to me- My mouth filled with saliva fast and I gasped open mouthed as my tongue coated with an acrid breath that preceded a rush of vomit. “Oh Jesus...” I coughed and spit, thrashing hard until my elbow connected with bone. It hurt us both but surprised him enough that I could squirm out of his grasp. I stumbled but stayed upright and started running again, wheezing and coughing through the bile burn in my throat.

I couldn't run for long like that, skidding into tall grass and the brush beside a building a ways from the station and theater and staying close to the ground to look and see if he'd followed. I couldn't see or hear him, but I tried to keep my coughing stifled as I spit out what I could of the taste in my mouth and swallowed to try and soothe the pain. Once my breathing had leveled and the feeling of nausea wasn't so present, I lifted myself up off the grass. I scoffed lightly, realizing what he'd said. 'Wouldn't hurt me'. As though I could believe that. It was amazing that he expected I would. What a joke.

I set my hand on the outer wall of the building, pausing and pulling it back. Pressing the tips of my fingers on the wall I dragged my fingernails through the texture and felt it crumble and build up under the pressure. The building was wax. This was the house of wax from the billboard. I shivered hard, unsure why, rubbing the built up wax out from under my nails. I settled my palm on the building again, trying to ignore the creeping feeling it gave me, and followed along it to move further into the brush.

My boot caught on the rise in front of me, too high to step over and save myself the trip before I fell forward and onto a rattling set of doors. My heart caught in my chest as it bounced under my weight before settling in a dip. A cellar, most likely. “Fuck that,” I hissed, getting my feet under me and stepping carefully forward off the rise. The doors rattled behind me and my heart all but stopped and I paused, stupidly, to assure myself it was the doors adjusting with the absence of my weight. The door to my back swung directly into my spine, knocking me to the ground and keeping me paralyzed in pain. I twitched and felt a bolt of pain strike parallel to my ribs. Bad bad bad, very bad, come on move. Heavy boot steps pressed on old wood and I exhaled, hoping he just wouldn't notice me.

A hand gripped my upper arm, hauling me upward despite my cry of pain. 'Not going to hurt you'- I would've thought he could at least try on that front. I did my best to breathe through the pain and not sound too pathetic as I was dragged through the cellar doors and down. Luckily my spine stopped being in agony the moment before he threw me to the ground. It was dead hot and stuffy, dark and lit by something inconsistent and wavering. I braced myself on the floor and began to sit up but his hand closed around the back of my neck and held me in place. I had forgotten how big people's hands could be, his thumb and fingers pressing into both sides of my carotid. I yelped at the piercing feeling at my throat.

I breathed heavily as he let me go, blood resuming normal flow in a nauseating rush. Turning over and looking up, I felt lightheaded but I couldn't be sure if that was because I'd just been injected with something horrid or because of the realization that this was not, in fact, the same man. Just as large, clearly just as much of a threat to my life. His large hands held a syringe, the bag at his hip showing a number of tools I couldn't identify at first glance as well as the handles of what I had to assume were knives, the handles themselves shaped like like halves of a dragon. I trained my eyes up with some difficulty, finding the look of him past waist-height to not be any more comforting. Long black hair and a blank face that I realized to be a mask as he shifted. In the dark I looked into the holes where his eyes were meant to be and the backdrop around him began to shift from gray to color. The room filled with a gentle shifting light and the ceiling fleshed out with flickering shades and shadow like watercolor strokes of a lighter and sweeter red- orange and yellow, filling in some of the gaps I'd found earlier.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” The words were slurred but I managed to get them out. My breath started to stick in my chest as he startled, tossing aside the syringe and crouching to lift me up. I tried to protest the touch but whatever he'd injected me we was working and kept my tongue from moving fast enough to talk. My head lolled to the side and I could see my legs, a hole in the knee of my tights and a the skin scraped and bloody, and my skirt caught on the edges of his fingers tucked under my legs. So that's purple. I couldn't see it for all it's glory, everything tainted by the strange lighting, but it felt strangely nice to finally know what Patrice had intended for me. Lace and color combined, it looked so sad against the dark of my skin. Exactly what we'd wanted.

#house of wax #soulmate au #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #oc insert #my writing #my fic

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 2 years

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Three Little Changes (Part 14)

The second change comes in layers; a cluster of little changes that amount to one big one. At first it is just a piercing. One small little stud upon Azula’s chest, just above her sternum. Katara can’t imagine that her father had been pleased about it–she wonders if he knows. Katara guess that he probably doesn’t, it is something that she can easily concealed beneath a shirt.

And then she comes to school with a second one. One small ruby above her right brow. And then comes the third–a lip ring at the center of her bottom lip.

Her father absolutely knows about these.

For some reason, these don’t grab Katara’s attention as much as what she arrives with today. And maybe that’s because she has seen so many piercings on Zuko, Mai, and TyLee. Azula is surrounded by people with a certain look. An edgy look, one that Azula had–until now–forgone for blazers and pencil skirts. Not that she doesn’t still wear those with her new piercings.

Today Katara almost doesn’t recognize her. She sits down and sets her purse on the floor at her feet and opens her lunchbox.

“I like your haircut!” Chan ruffles her hair.

She swats his hand away. “I like when you sit across from me and keep your hands to yourself.”

He grumbles an apology.

“Did you cut it yourself?” Katara asks.

Azula combs her fingers through her substantially shorter locks. “No. Mai did.”

“She did a good job.” Katara smiles.

“Thank you.” Mai finds a spot next to Azula. “I was trying to get her to get some hair gel and spike it up but she wouldn’t go for it.”

“I like it how it is now.” Katara comments. Though she sort of misses her bangs.

“You don’t regret letting me cut it, do you?” Mai asks.

Azula shakes her head. “I wouldn’t have asked you to do it if I didn’t want it.” But that doesn’t mean that she was guaranteed to like the result. And Katara is fairly certain that she isn’t entirely comfortable with the stares and commentary, even if it is mostly positive.

“Why did you get it cut anyhow?”

“The same reason I’m dropping the debate team.” Azula shrugs. “Father doesn’t want me to.”

.oOo.

With just five words things become very different for Azula.

With just five words and a new look people forget about Star and Lian. They want to talk to Azula now, they want to sit with her, they want to buy her lunch.

Azula wants to sit at the table she has been sitting at and eat the lunches that she buys for herself. Katara is certain that Azula is just happy that Star and Lian are leaving her be. That she can have her lunches mostly in peace.

She is still a relatively quiet person and Katara can’t be more relieved. She had been almost certain that Azula would take her newfound popularity and use it to harass her with more vigor and skill than ever.

She is ashamed to have even speculated as much considering how appreciative Azula has been of those therapy sessions.

For a change the girl seems to be doing well.

But Katara can’t tell if this is who she wants to be; this leather clad, piercing heavy, short haired body still doesn’t seem to fit the mind inside. The tall boots, the studs, and her sudden interest in punk music is about is fitting on Azula as it would be for Mai to start dressing in pastels or for Toph to start wearing heels and makeup.

Katara supposes that it doesn’t not suit her, she can certainly see punk Azula more than she can picture Azula in baggy hoodies and ripped jeans like Zuko’s. Better than she can see Azula with disheveled hair and a lazy posture. Even so, her new aesthetic seems somehow forced. As though she does enjoy the look but, perhaps, not the rebellious spirit that is often associated with it–the new role that she is expected to take for donning this armor.

“Why don’t you do what you did when you first got the piercings?” Katara asks one day between classes.

Azula tilts her head and furrows her brows.

“Where you were still wearing your blazars.” It had been a nice blend of this new look and her old style. “It doesn’t have to be a go big or go home thing.” But who is she kidding; Azula is a go big or go home type of person.

“I like this.” She insists. But there is a hint of enthusiasm missing, an undercurrent of uncertainty beneath the confident bravado that she has been flaunting before the school. Katara dreads the day that the facade crumbles. Dreads to think about what might happen if people begin to criticize Azula for the very look and persona that they seem to adore now.

“I just want you to be yourself, Azula.”

“I am.” Azula replies.

Katara believes her. At the very least she believes that Azula believes herself. And she dreads just as heavily, the day that Azula realizes that she is at least partially lying to herself. But maybe it is a good thing; maybe Azula just needs to try on different looks and different mannerisms until she finds one that makes her feel comfortable.

One that makes her feel authentic.

So Katara nods. “That’s good to hear.” She still can’t bring herself to ask how Ozai is handling everything. From the sound of it, he hasn’t made a fuss over it at all. Perhaps he too believes that it is only a phase and that it will pass if he keeps quiet. Katara knows Azula well enough to know that she will double down on everything if pushed.

Eventually there comes a day later in the year where Azula is Azula again; blazars and dress pants, heels instead of platform boots, and piercing free. Her hair is still short but it is slicked back in a suave and formal fashion.

But she still has the attention.

Now that she has established herself as the confident, socialite sort she can run this school like she would a small business.

.oOo.

Sometimes she looks in the mirror. She thinks that the last time that it has shown her something she liked was a few years ago when she thought for sure that she was at her worst. When her hair was short and she had the courage to try to become someone that she wanted to be.

She wonders how she has managed to get back here. She hasn’t worn her lip ring in ages and her brow piercing is probably on its way to closing.

She is what father wants her to be.

She does what father wants her to do.

She is a hypocrite, telling Katara to work up the nerve to go for a surf when she has no courage of her own. She should drop the debate team again, just to throw it in father’s face. But she does enjoy it, truely. It is one of the few places where she feels powerful, unstoppable.

She picks her way through her jewelry drawers until she comes upon that lip ring. She can put it in again, just for old times sake. She can put the brow piercing back in too, that doesn’t mean that she has to pull out the studded jacket.

But she needs to do something.

Something to feel alive and free.

Something to feel like she has some control over where she goes and what she does.

So she puts her piercings back in and she calls Katara. She takes her summer program signup sheets and she tucks them into her beach bag. She waves goodbye to father who looks up only briefly from his dive site maps. Finally he mutters what could be a passionless, “be home by dark.” And she knows that she is ready.

She is anxious but she is ready.

The door to the mansion probably won’t open again but right now that doesn’t matter.

Not when she sees Sokka helping Katara use her new crutches. “Alright, Sokka, you can go now.” Katara says. “I think that Jet was wanting to take you to that new movie–the one about the beefy lifeguard.”

“Right.” Sokka grumbles. “The beefy lifeguard. I’m more interested in the female life guard with the big…”

“If you’re going to say anything but, ‘sunhat’ I’m going to punch you!” Katara declares.

Sokka laughs. “Sunhat! The lifeguard with the big sunhat!”

“Yeah, go find Jet and watch that and Azula and I will meet you back here.”

“Why are you so eager to get rid of me?” Sokka’s eyes narrow.

“Because we’re going to get tattoos and we need you out of the way.” Azula grumbles.

“What!? Seriously!? No way!” He looks from Azula to Katara and then back to Azula before settling on Katara. “Dad would kill both of us!”

“Yeah seriously.” Katara quirks a brow.

“Really big ones too.” Azula adds. “Face tattoos like the one that Chit Sang has.”

Sokka cringes.

“Ones that say vulgar things.”

Sokka winces.

“Things about drugs and sex.”

“Okay you’re just messing with me. She’s messing with me right, Katara.” She can practically see him sweating.

“Oh no, not at all.” Azula draws the words out. “We’re completely serious, we’re not just getting them on our faces either…”

Sokka’s grimace only grows until he is locked in a full body cringe.

“Of course she’s messing with you, Sokka.” Katara rolls her eyes. “Do you really think that I’d get a face tattoo?”

Sokka’s body slackens. “You guys are the worst.”

“Enjoy your movie, Sokka.” Azula waves him off.

Katara waits until he is out of ear shot to mutter, “this is why he gets uncomfortable with you.”

Azula shrugs.

“What are we doing anyways?”

“Well I was hoping that you would come with me to get another piercing. You don’t have to get one but I think that it would be an interesting thing to do.”

“You want me to get one too?”

Azula nods. “Something matching, maybe?”

“Azula, that’s so cheesy.”

“Which is exactly why you’re going to say yes.” Azula declares boldly. “I see the novels that you like to read; you love sappy cliches. So we’re going to have a sappy cliche with some edge and a thrill.”

“Is it going to hurt?” Katara asks.

“Maybe for a few seconds.” She pauses. “I mean some people pass out…”

“Pass out!” Katara sputters.

Azula pushes the door to the parlor open. “I didn’t pass out. You’ll be fine. Belly button piercings are one of the easier spots.” She gestures for Katara to enter.

.oOo.

Azula goes first and Katara is glad that she does. She still has a chance to get herself out of this one. She still has a chance but instead she finds herself mesmerized by just how calm Azula is. She doesn’t even flinch when the needle slips through. She gives the slightest little hiss but manages to look only vaguely discomforted.

“It isn’t awful, Katara.” She says once the belly ring is in place. It is a cute thing, a little stingray charm that dangles at her navel. It suits her, Katara can definitely see Azula having a stingray as a spirit animal.

When Azula gets out of the chair, Katara knows that her window for backing out is closing. She watches the piercer sterilize his equipment and he gestures for her to sit down.

“Do you think that my dad is going to be mad?” Katara asks as she slides into her chair.

“Your father is the hippie, artist type. I have a feeling that he won’t care. Maybe that you didn’t ask for his permission first but he’ll like it if it makes you happy.” Azula sighs, her expression dimming some.

Katara flushes. How could she be so careless. Azula would probably kill to have a father who would just give her a well meaning lecture. “If you know that your dad is going to be angry then why are you doing this?”

“Because father is angry about a lot of things. He’s already angry with me for being with you. So I might as well spend some of his cash before he stops giving it to me.” She frowns. “Now take a deep breath and try not to pass out.”

“You are not helping.”

“Well keep talking to me and it will be done with before you know it.” Azula says.

“Ready?” The piercier asks.

Katara nods, lying without words.

“What kind of charm are you going to get?” Azula asks.

Katara squeezes her eyes shut and squeezes Azula’s hand as the needle comes closer.“I think that hibiscus would look…” She winces and grits her teeth at the needle’s bite. “Cute.” Her belly button is throbbing something sharp. She squeezes Azula’s hand tighter.

At least she isn’t thinking about her missing leg for a change.

“Yeah, I think that, that would suit you.” Azula agrees as the piercer fixes the hibiscus in place.

“You’re a terrible influence.”

“But you love it and you haven’t regretted it yet.”

.oOo.

She just hopes that she won’t regret it either. She isn’t exactly a risk taker neither is she a rebeller. She likes to play by the rules and calculate carefully. And she does so to the point of exhaustion. Until the anxiety of trying to plan things several steps in advance becomes too much to handle.

Not that this doesn’t come with its own dreads and anxieties. But at least these anxieties come with a sense of exhilaration. And least these reluctances and uneases come with a chance for something better.

She leads Katara down the boardwalk. “These crutches are horrible.”

“They’re better than the wheelchair though. It’s more independent.” And maybe that is what she herself is trying to achieve. It would be nice to be able to say such things and not feel like a fraud.

“So where are we going now?” Katara asks. “Sokka’s movie should be ending soon and I don’t want to hear is dad spiel.”

“Not too far.” Azula replies. “Just to the edge of the boardwalk.”

“For what?”

Azula shrugs. “It just has a nice view.”

“Alright, I’ll tell Sokka to meet us here.”

“Sure, Katara.” Azula replies as she takes her spot leaning against those wooden rails with the chipping gold paint. It is a nice view indeed; she thinks that the world around is more vivid today. More alive. The golds are more glimmering when they come as sun rays and the greens are richer when the palms swish and the seaweed stirs. The sand is fluffier and the aromas are sweeter; a tang of banana, a touch of mango, a gentle powdery touch of coconut milk. Everything is rich and lush.

Everything bursts around her.

The hibiscus pop and strands of lights twinkle in the glassless window frames of bars and smoothie shops.

She is alive.

Alive and electric as she fishes the signup sheets out of her purse.

It is a lovely view, indeed. Made lovelier still by watching as the wind carries those shackling signup sheets down the beach where they catch on the trunk of a palm tree and flutter until another gust carries them closer to the ocean.

“He isn’t going to be happy.” Azula frowns, her voice significantly quieter.

Azula doesn’t think that Katara fully grasps just what this moment means for her. Just what she has let go of. She inquires,“but will you be?”

Azula nods. “I think so.” She replies. “After I deal with him.”

“Whatever happens with him, you know that you have my dad and I.” Katara awkwardly reaches around the crutches to squeeze her hand.

“I know.” Azula confirms.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Katara #Azutara #Fanfiction

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alwek · 7 months

Text

Week: Fuck Banks

I am absolutely atrocious with money. Just completely bum fuck stupid. Sincerely garbage. 100% pure bred lean ass juciy idiot with the monetary applications of society.

What the fuck is credit anyway? A fucking scam, that's what. Same as insurance. At least for cars, anyhow.

Like, y'all know that meme with the couple and jesus that goes 'i consent, i consent. I dont' with jesus saying i dont, captioned isn't there someone you forgot to ask?

Well imagine that meme but the couple is a buyer and a seller and jesus is the bank. Why the fuck can I have all the money I need to pay for something, be in agreement with the person selling the thing to do the trade, but then the bank can come in and day "nuh-uh-uh. We say you can't do that"

For what fucking reason? Why does a third party with alterior interest allowed to dictate what we can and can not do with our money? With our lives? What gives them the FUCKING right? Because they said so? Bullshit

Why do banks even have control over money anyway? Isn't money a government provided service of currency for citizens and visitors to be able to efficiently partake in trade? Why don't they have control over their own thing? Why aren't banks a tax funded institutional system provided and controlled by the government of a people as to not let people with profit motives control the actual fucking lives of literally the entire God Damned FUCKING WORLD?!?!?!

Who let this shit happen? Who do we need to fucking kill to stop it? Profit motives should not be able to control the three basic human rights.

EVERYONE deserves a roof over their head, food in their mouth, and water in their cup. Full stop. That's it. The basic necessities of literally staying alive should be provided.

But the bank says no. The bank says your house that you paid for and own? That's mine now. Why? Because I said so, fuck you, don't ask questions just go assisted suicide yourself about it.

It's fucked! But hey, that's capitalism. The most perfect and wondeful societal system that has ever exist and hey hey hey wait don't go look at capitalist history and all the things we've done to sabotage the functionality of countries that tried anything different. No, WE are absolutely perfect now spend all your money at my business please. Oh and also don't ask why business essentially control the world its for the best intrest of everyone. That's why we strike down and skirt safty laws at every given opportunity, it's because capitalism breeds innovation, definitely not monopoly. The most successful people are fellers that made it all their own and NOT because they "own" half of all the companies that exist in the world. Don't ask so many questions to me. Just give- er I mean spend your money at that business over there that I am DEFINITELY not affiliated with.

Power in anger. Victory in wisdom.

#weeks #ramblings #banks #politics #capitalism

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years

Text

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: voyeurism, exhibitionism, spitroasting, oral (f,m receiving), degradation, praise, double penetration, threesome, praise, cumplay, dubcon if you squint

Genre: smut

Summary: When your boyfriend plays with you at a baseball game it causes some reactions

***

Baseball. You wouldn't call it your favorite sport but you consider yourself a fan of America's pastime. Which is why when Steve offers you tickets to go with him to a Mets game you gladly take him up on the offer. You even convince Bucky to go with you and he's not nearly as interested in the game as you are but he'd follow you anywhere if you gave him your puppy eyes.

Bringing Bucky along proves to be a bit distracting when about halfway through the game his hand starts tracing circles along your inner thigh. Initially you aim to just ignore him, assuming- rather naively on your part, that your boyfriend would keep things innocent in such a public setting. When his hand starts sliding up you place your hand over his before it slips beneath the hemline of your skirt. When he'd draped his jacket over your legs a few minutes before it seemed harmless- now though you realize he had other intentions.

"Bucky- what are you doing?" You whisper quietly through your teeth hoping not to grab Steve's attention who sits on your other side.

"I think you're due for a check doll." Bucky shrugs.

"Not now!?" You look at him with wide eyes. He fixes you with a raised brow that dares you to protest again.

"Remind me sweetness, what are the rules?" He asks. You let out a sigh as you quietly recite the rule in question back to him.

"Wetness checks can be conducted at any time to ensure I'm always ready for when daddy wants to play." Your voice is as quiet as you can manage.

"Which means- I can and will conduct one now if I so please. Now be a good girl and open your legs." Bucky's leaned in closer to you now, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks. You glance nervously at Steve.

"But Steve-"

"Is busy watching the game, as long as you stay quiet he won't know a thing, can you do that doll?" Bucky asks as his fingers slip inside your panties.

"Y-yes." You whisper, letting out a soft gasp when he brushes your clit. When his two fingers drag along your dripping slit he can't help but chuckle. He plunges his digits into you with ease, immediately curling them and making you shudder.

"Well- look at that, you passed pretty girl. I think I'll give you a reward for that." Bucky toys with your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in harsh circles.

"N-now?" Your reply is breathless as you struggle to maintain some control of yourself.

"Obviously now. Unless of course you don't want to cum like a good girl for me?" Bucky hums as he increases the pressure on your clit. You grab the armrest that sits between you and Steve and don't notice when he looks over at you momentarily but before he can ask anything the crack of bat against ball snatches his attention.

"I- I want to be good." You whimper softly to Bucky.

"Then cum for me sweetness." Bucky orders. A few more circles around your clit and you're doing just that with a shuddering breath. Bucky pulls his fingers away and directly into his mouth, licking them clean before he leans over again to whisper in your ear.

"Good girl." He breathes before turning back to the game. You take one deep breath to recover and to your luck Bucky doesn't distract you for the last 4 innings of the game and you chat through it with Steve whenever something cool happens.

When the game ends and you all return to the tower you split from the guys to go do some things in your room. You have some books to put away anyhow.

"So uh- does Bucky always slut you out in public or was today a special occasion." You jump at the sudden sound of Steve's voice. You didn't notice he was behind you.

"Holy hell you scared me. Wait what did you just say?" You blink at him in confusion.

"During the baseball game." Steve says.

"What about the baseball game?" You frown.

"Don't act daft- I was sitting right next to you." Steve rolls his eyes.

"Wait you knew-"

"Of course I did. I'm a super soldier, did you really think I wouldn't notice you two whispering beside me?" Steve walks towards you and you instinctively step back. "I could hear his fingers- or rather I could hear your soaking wet pussy as he played with it. Could hear your gasps as you desperately tried not to outwardly react. I could even hear your heartbeat quicken. It's doing it now." Steve's now trapped you against the wall with his arms on either side of your head as he stares down at you.

"I- Bucky said-"

"You think he doesn't know how good my hearing is princess? He knew I could hear everything. So I ask again- was today a special occasion or are you always such a slut for my best pal?" Steve leans in incredibly close to you.

"Steve this is- wrong. You really shouldn't be asking me this-"

"And you really shouldn't be getting fingered at baseball games and yet." Steve retorts.

"What's going on in here?" Bucky asks. His sudden presence causes Steve to back up just enough for you to slip away from him and you find your way behind your boyfriend.

"Bucky he heard what you were doing at the game." You mutter feeling heat rise to your cheeks as the embarrassment of getting caught settles in.

"Oh is that what this is about? Get a little too worked up Stevie? Frustrating isn't it? To have her right there, to smell her arousal and not be able to touch her." Bucky smirks.

"Bucky what are you doing?" You hiss at him.

"Hush babygirl I'm asking Steve a question." Bucky waves you off.

"You know how frustrating it is." Steve grits out.

"Not really- I can touch her whenever I want. I can touch her right now if I want." Bucky shrugs grabbing your arm and pulling in front of him. His arm wraps around your waist and shoves his hand up your skirt.

"Bucky stop this is insane." You say grabbing his wrist in effort to stop him but his fingers have already moved your underwear and slipped inside you. Your eyes widen as you moan- embarrassment mixing with lust at the fact that Steve is staring right at you.

"You wanna touch her Stevie, don't you?" Bucky's lips kiss along your neck as he talks to Steve.

"Buck you can stop now." Steve says, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Answer the question Steve." Bucky's fingers fuck into you faster making you cry out as he holds you still against him.

"B-Bucky please I-" you know you should ask him to stop but at this point you're so worked up you almost want to beg him to let you cum.

"What is it babydoll? You wanna cum, don't you?" Bucky coos at you.

"Y-yes please." You whimper.

"Cum sweetheart. Show Stevie how good you are for daddy." Bucky hums. You moan loudly as your orgasm washes over you.

"Was that really necessary?" Steve huffs.

"If you wanna touch my girl so bad all you had to do is ask." Bucky says shoving you forward towards Steve on shaky legs. Steve reaches forward to catch you when you stumble.

"B-Bucky?" You look over your shoulder at him with a confused frown.

"You'll be good won't you doll? Let Stevie have you the way he wants to?" Bucky asks.

"Bucky." Steve warns.

"Answer me y/n." Bucky orders.

"Y-yes. I'll be good." You answer quietly.

"Strip for him doll." Bucky says. You step away from Steve to peel off your clothes one at a time until you're standing naked in front of them.

"Fuck you're gorgeous." Steve huffs out.

"Thank you." You mutter.

"Ask him to touch you baby." Bucky tells you.

"S-Stevie touch me. Please." You whimper breathlessly. Steve looks at Bucky for a moment before his hands are on you. You let out a short yelp when Steve pulls you towards him by your throat and crashes his lips against yours.

"God I want to ruin you." Steve growls against your mouth.

"Please- please do it." You whimper. Steve drops to his knees in front of you suddenly and places a kiss against your hip.

"Spread your legs princess." Steve says against your skin. You shuffle your feet further apart and as soon as there's space for him to slot his head between your legs he does lapping at your core so vigorously that you almost lose your balance in shock. Bucky comes up behind you to steady you as Steve eats you out like a man starved. Steve's tongue lalves your clit with attention, flicking it sharply until you're shaking against Bucky.

"Cum doll. Let Stevie really taste you." Bucky says kissing against your neck. Steve latches onto your clit and sucks harshly causing you to arch against him as you cum.

"Oh my god!" You groan as Steve continues to tongue at your cunt.

"Good girl." Bucky hums. You pant heavily as Steve slowly pulls away.

"You taste fucking amazing." Steve breathes.

"Doesn't she?" Bucky muses, grabbing your chin and kissing you sweetly. Steve stands and immediately covers your neck in blooms of red. Steve pulls you up, making you pull away from Bucky to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to your bed and tosses you onto it and this is when you notice both men have at some point stripped. Steve tugs you towards the end of the bed and slots himself between your legs, thrusting into you quickly. You let out a loud moan as he bottoms out and Bucky takes the opportunity to shove his dick into your open mouth. The two men take control of your body, Bucky fucking your throat as fast as Steve fucks your pussy. You moan around Bucky at the way Steve fills you.

"You feel so good princess. So wet and tight." Steve grunts between thrusts.

"You're so good with your mouth doll. You always suck me off so well." Bucky huffs. You moan around him again at their praise and Bucky pulls out of your mouth allowing you to gasp some breaths. Bucky jerks himself off until he cums on your chest and Steve follows his lead pulling out of you just in time to shoot his load onto your stomach, ropes of cum now covering your body. When you drag your finger through the mess and wrap your lips around it both men groan at the sight.

"You- are fucking dangerous." Steve mutters. You giggle at his curse.

"Don't be rude Stevie- look how pretty she is all covered in our cum like a dirty little slut." Bucky says stroking your hair affectionately.

"Of course she looks gorgeous- that doesn't make her any less dangerous." Steve shrugs.

"Aw you guys are gonna make me blush." You joke.

"I think we should make you look even prettier." Bucky says.

"You wanna make me look prettier daddy?" You blink up at him with your biggest doe eyes and he groans.

"She's still to cognisant anyway." Steve says as the two men switch places.

"Then let's fuck her til she passes out." Bucky suggests.

"I like that plan." Steve says. Before you can add anything Steve pushes past your lips at the same time Bucky thrusts his length into you.

By the time they've finished with you, you've lost count of your orgasms and theirs but the evidence stains you and the sheets but you're too fucked out to even think about the mess you'll be cleaning up once you're conscious again.

***

#marvel #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #stucky fanfic #captain america #stucky smut

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borrovvedyoongi · 3 years

Text

warned you p.sh

pairing: tutor!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, but at most suggestive for now

wc: 3k

warnings: mature content, cursing, mentions of erection, mentions of casual sex, y/n saying she’s screwing someone’s dad but she doesn’t lmfao

synopsis: y/n needs to pass calculus, and sunghoon needs to get laid

part 1/???

You were going to your snobby and strict private school, just walking to the beat of Sunmi blasting in your headphones. The pigtails got in the way of the headphones but you made it work. You were aiming for the cutesy innocent look today, regardless of if your whole grade thought you were some harlot. You’d rather call yourself a femme fatale, but what you’re really trying to reclaim as a raging bratty feminist is a bimbo.

Bimbos definitely need to keep their head up high with confidence, but seeing the latest AP calculus quiz on your desk with its 37% marked in red severely irked you in that it made you feel dumb, and not the good kind, the very small and insignificant kind. Bimbos don’t like feeling like that. You twirled your pigtail in your hand and tried to keep a neutral expression, holding in the heavy sigh you so badly need to exhale out. That’s when you heard it.

“How did she manage to score that low?” someone snickered.

“All that time spent on her back and not at a desk really paid off.” another person snickered. You really wanted to say you’ve actually got railed by their dad on his desk and that you’re quite adaptable on where you do it, but you didn’t wake up and choose violence today...and plus the teacher would’ve sent you to the office. Giving them attention would just fuel the fire that you can’t put out when you’re up against slut shaming vermin when you’re only a team of one. The bell rang, signaling your next class and before you were able to stand up and go, you were asked to stay for a few minutes afterwards along with someone else. That someone else being Park Sunghoon. You and Sunghoon walked to the desk of your teacher and stood before her.

“Now Y/N, I know that you haven’t been doing well in class so I decided to pair you up with Sunghoon as your tutor. I feel as though you would have great improvement after a few study sessions, considering big chapters are coming up to wrap up the semester, and now is the best time more than ever to get some aid that I can’t provide.” You peek over to Sunghoon and he glances at you briefly before looking back at the teacher.

“Is this mandatory?” you ask.

“If you want to pass this class, I strongly recommend that you let him help you. An alternative explanation could help.” You really had no other choice but to nod your head yes and go along with it.

“Good. Now that both of you are informed, hurry along before you’re late to your next class.” After both of you scurry out of the room, you walk ahead to your next class and feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon, but you already knew that.” he says awkwardly while he hands you a post it note in neat handwriting. You eye it, then look up.

“You’re giving me your number?” you ask. He nods.

“Texting is the most efficient way to communicate with me since I have ice skating practice and student council related things to do.” he iterates. Before you even say a word, Sunghoon is already off to his next class, but you don’t miss the way he turns around to wave at you and yells “Text me!” in the hallway. You’ve gotten many stares before, from the way you carry yourself and from the way you purposely pull your uniform skirt higher because you think it would look best as a mini skirt, but this time, you heard whispers.

“Why is he talking to her?”

“Must be doing charity work.”

You smile. You can’t wait to tell your best friend Sunoo what just happened at lunch.

“The ice prince is doing what now?” Sunoo says with fruit gummies in his mouth.

“He’s helping me with calculus. And gave me his number.” you say while grabbing for a piece of candy to which Sunoo lets you grab a few.

“So…what’s the plan here?” Sunoo says with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll text him right now and have some fun.”

“You whore! What do you mean have some fun?” Sunoo asked not subtly with his booming voice.

You roll your eyes. “You know the drill. I think he’s an easy target. I’ll be my cute charming self and see what happens.”

“You mean you’ll be a man eater and devour that poor innocent boy whole?”

“You know me so well.” you say, grinning ear to ear. You whip out your phone and compose a text.

You: Hey Sunghoon, it’s Y/N, are you free after school today?

Unknown: Hey, and yes. Where would you like to study?

You: I’m more comfortable at my house where there’s less distractions. The library is too quiet for me and I like some white noise.

Sunoo peeks over your shoulder and says, “He responds fast.”

You smile, “Right?”

You start typing right away, but notice the three dots before you get to send anything.

Unknown: Sounds good, I’ll meet you after school :)

Sunoo gasps. “A smiley? A smiley!” You giggle at his reaction.

“It’s just an emoticon silly.” you say.

“It’s going to be water droplets and eggplants soon though.” Sunoo said in a sing song voice. You can’t help but laugh at your easily giddy best friend. You had big, big plans to get your prey, and you were going to have your fun in the process of passing calculus while you’re at it.

English literature wasn’t the most fun class in the world with talking about MacBeth and all, however, the fun part was daydreaming about Sunghoon. You have fancied the boy for the longest time casually but thought he was a little too vanilla for you. And you don’t like admitting it, a little too good for you with being a smart hardworking boy with his head on steady shoulders while yours just bobbled to whatever. Anyhow, you needed danger. A little spice, and everything delectably nice. He didn’t seem the type to be rough enough.

He was however tall, lean, and achingly adorable. Handsomely crafted, so soft spoken, and knew when to shut up unlike every boy you’ve slept with thus far. He’s a nice target.

The bell rang, and you were quite surprised to see Sunghoon standing by your locker while you’re on your way there.

“Sunghoon!” you say cheerfully, making sure there was a bounce in your step, very glad you’re not wearing a bra today. For some reason the air conditioning wasn’t working today at school so you used this as an excuse to unbutton a few buttons earlier on your white crisp button up. You can see very clearly Sunghoon gulp and you can’t help but do your eye smile at this, and he does a soft grin in return.

“How did you figure out where my locker was?” you say as you tilt your head. Sunghoon couldn’t help but think the simple gesture of a head tilt was so charming.

He shrugs. “I was going to text you but I knew you would be in class, so I looked at some documents to find out which locker it was. You know, student council perks.”

“Ah.”

“Please don’t find it creepy.”

“I won’t, you dork.” You bend over to reach your locker since it was on the bottom row. Sunghoon stepped aside to let you open your locker, and his breath hitches in his throat. Seeing the back of your thighs in a skirt that was hiked up higher than it was supposed to was bewitching. He felt like he was in a trance and lingered his eyes on your legs for quite a while. Your skirt was just at the edge of the curvature of your ass, leaving some to the imagination but not much. You knew exactly what you were doing. You had many cheap tricks up your sleeve, and you were going to use them to your advantage. You could practically feel his gaze on you and you can’t help but smirk as you grab your calculus textbook along with your pencil bag, still bent over taking your time putting the items in your backpack. Sunghoon knows he has to stop staring or otherwise this won’t look good for him.

“Ready to go?” you say with a smile. It takes a moment for him to process what just happened and he’s all the while wondering how did your legs not hurt when you didn’t crouch to the ground all the way.

“Of course.”

The walk to your home was pleasant, you looked down at your shoes often and Sunghoon mapped out what sections you two were to go over in the textbook, including the homework that was assigned today. You asked him how his classes went and he responded after pausing to mull over his thoughts.

“It’s okay. Nothing exciting happened other than right now.” he says, looking at you while giving you his undivided attention. You can’t help but admire the beauty that is Sunghoon. His soft looking hair that frames his face nicely and the way he has his hands shoved into the pockets of his uniform slacks make him look so boyishly handsome and breathtaking.

It takes a moment for you to respond. “What about right now is so exciting?”

He gently smiles and looks away from you. “I don’t tutor people often. Every once in a while I get asked to help students about a few things but never really spend enough time with them to consider it tutoring. And the change of pace on how I manage my time is much needed. I don’t interact with different people often, so this is...nice.”

Your heart races as the clouds take over the blue sky slowly. You notice just how pretty the cute moles on his face are as your gaze lingers on them for a bit. He does that stupid charming smile that makes you giddy and you blush, picking up the pace. You start turning while walking backwards just to give him your undivided attention.

“We should walk faster, Sunghoon. It might start drizzling.”

Both of you entered your home and took your shoes off at the front door. Sunghoon took a quick glance at your home, to which he said “this is a cozy house.” You tell him your bedroom is the coziest spot in the house, and let him trail behind you as you go up the stairs, and he doesn’t miss the way your pretty and dainty hand smooths over the railing as you walk up. Entering your room, he noticed the pink canopy bed right away, and the pink heart shaped pillow on it. There were so many details in just one spot, with the floral comforter and lights attached to the tulle. It was pretty and graceful. Light and airy. Soft.

“You can sit on the bed. Let me get changed out of this uniform, it’s so hot in this blazer.” you say as you start to strip in front of your closet, looking away from Sunghoon. Now, Sunghoon doesn’t see himself as a pervert, so therefore, when he noticed you unbuttoning your white button up and could only see the smoothness of your back and notice there was no bra in sight, his cheeks flushed. He quickly turned the other cheek and looked anywhere else but you. Unfortunately, perhaps fortunately, you had a full length mirror with fake pink roses running along its sides across your room. Sunghoon tried really, really hard to look at the curve of the pink petals and not at the curve of your breasts when you turned to the side slightly, but he failed so horribly. He could see himself and his cheeks were beet red. The bulge in his pants was so noticeable too. He quickly placed his backpack on his lap and winced at how heavy it was against him. Why did that kinda feel good?

You turn around wearing your school uniform skirt still but this time with a bright red crop top and of course, no bra. Sunghoon is dying and he can’t help but stare at how prominent your nipples are through the thin material. You take the pigtails down and he loves the way your hair cascades down your shoulders once it’s out of its confines of a scrunchie. He blinks once, twice, many times. Maybe if he sees only the back of his eyelids long enough he will stop picturing you naked. It doesn’t work, and you just stand with your hands on your hips and a lilt to your voice.

“Are you thirsty?” you say sweetly, knowing your tricks are working.

“Uh, y-yeah. Do you have water? Can I have water please?” Sunghoon is so precious.

“Of course you can.”

You really are a chintzy whore at best. Your excuse for not sitting at the desk of your room to study was that there was only one comfy study chair, and that you didn’t feel like bringing the dining room chair upstairs. That’s understandable, right? You could’ve however used the chair at your vanity, but that’s just a padded stool with no back to it. Wouldn’t want you or Sunghoon to forget and lean back too far and fall to your doom. So you told Sunghoon that you would rather study in your bed.

You played a little playlist in the background, something mellow and soft and not too distracting. Every once in a while Sunghoon will ask what song it is, and you respond with a chipper in your voice.

“Oh, this one is Sex and Sadness by Madi Sipes and the Painted Blue!”

“That’s one hell of a title.” he chuckles.

“It sure is. The lyrics are so...pretty? I can’t put it into words. The part where it talks about ‘stained glass loved lace’ gets me every time. And ‘whispering words into the singer’s skin.’ It’s romantic.” Sunghoon notices how there’s a certain dazzling feature in your eyes as you talk about the song. He wants to stare in your eyes, but alas you have to finish this one problem. Sunghoon prioritizes responsibilities over such silly, frivolous things that only he notices.

“So tell me how you’re going to solve this problem.” Sunghoon says swiftly while grabbing the glass of water on your nightstand.

You stare at the problem and try your best to concentrate. You really do. But you can’t help the way Sunghoon’s hand looks lazily placed on his thigh. Without much thought, you trace a finger on the back of his hand and say, “Your hands are so veiny.”

“Y/N.”

“And big.”

Well that’s a first, Sunghoon thinks. He knows he’a good looking, a bunch of girls swoon over him at school and at the rink all the time. The most common compliment he gets is on his eyes, and maybe hair, but not on his hands of all things. You’re fascinated by them, and you won’t stop tracing along the veins. Your touch sets his skin ablaze, and it doesn’t seem like you’re finishing this problem any time soon.

“Let’s take a break. I think you’re getting distracted because your brain is all fried.” Sunghoon says softly, still letting you continue playing with his hand.

“I’m getting distracted because I have a pretty boy in my bed.” you giggle. You finally look up and see how pink his cheeks are from blushing.

He starts to stammer “You’re the one that wants to study in your bed!” His voice is a little pitched and you can’t contain your laughs.

“Do you want to move to the desk then?” you ask.

He shakes his head and mumbles a “no.” A few moments pass and you almost didn’t hear what he says next because it’s under his breath.

“I’ve never been called pretty before.”

“Gasp.” you say, lightheartedly.

“No but like, I’ve been called handsome, smart, a little weird, but not pretty.” Sunghoon replies. A moment of silence passed, and you started to ponder.

“There’s a song called Pretty Boy in my playlist somewhere.”

You go over to your laptop and click on The Neighbourhood song. You sway your hips gently and get lost into the music. Sunghoon just gazes at you as you move along to the steady pulse of the music and let the melodies feel you instead of the other way around. You do a little twirl and waltze your way to your bed, grabbing his hand.

“Dance with me.”

He obliged, wordlessly.

He takes in the words of the lyrics and closes his eyes. If he can’t see how close he is to you right now, it feels less real. It feels less scary. Not that you’re scary, Sunghoon doesn’t think girls with pink heart shaped pillows are scary. What’s scary is you laughing at his boner because he hasn’t been this close to a girl before since a random winter formal he had in grade school. The girl wasn’t all that nice since she dipped to dance with his friend. You’re much softer and nice. More delicate. You even smell nicer. God, your little hands enclosed together behind his neck and his big hands on your waist feels too good to be true. He can feel your gaze on him.

“Sunghoon, open your eyes.” He does, and his breath hitches and you look down, because you definitely feel something poking you and it wasn’t there before.

“I have to go, I have a curfew and it’s getting late, I’ll walk myself out.”

“Sunghoon I can at least walk you down-“

“No, seriously. I can go by myself. Thank you though.”

He’s so wide eyed and his cheeks are so rosy and he dashes away like his life depends on it. And you didn’t even get to kiss him.

#sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon scenario #sunghoon suggestive #sunghoon smut #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagine

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