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atlabeth · 2 months

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(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking.

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind.

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?”

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.”

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back.

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off.

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted.

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable.

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing.

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position.

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world.

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid.

Not when you didn’t know he loved you.

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.”

His chest tightened. It was his fault.

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.”

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow.

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend.

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him.

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck.

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough.

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out.

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence.

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out.

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips.

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her.

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes.

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child.

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t.

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied.

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant.

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick.

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart.

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?”

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—”

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.��

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes.

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked.

“Oh, I—”

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him.

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.”

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side.

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar.

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse.

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead.

“She’s burning up,” she whispered.

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.”

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand.

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.”

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.”

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you.

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked…

You looked as if you were dead.

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope.

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.”

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him.

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him.

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.”

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.”

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.”

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.”

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.”

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly.

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…”

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.”

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left.

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered.

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders.

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise.

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again.

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.”

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.”

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern.

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.”

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.”

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms.

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.”

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.”

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.”

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?”

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.”

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?”

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her.

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.”

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?”

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.”

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical.

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.”

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies.

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else.

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister.

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.”

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?”

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.”

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around.

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.”

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.”

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.”

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer.

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.”

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again.

“...Thank you. For being here for me.”

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.”

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings.

Your head hurt.

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes.

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep?

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand.

You smiled. She came for you after all.

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all.

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly.

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.”

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood.

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?”

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.”

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?”

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?”

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.”

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.”

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.”

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate.

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have.

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away.

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?”

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?”

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.”

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly.

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—”

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…”

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this.

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?”

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.”

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?”

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.”

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?”

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.”

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.”

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.”

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her.

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.”

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?”

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.”

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together. “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted.

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.”

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.”

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.”

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!”

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.”

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced.

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded.

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.”

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?”

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?”

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded.

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.”

“Mother—”

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I assumed just as much, Mother.”

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits.

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it.

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger.

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym.

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her.

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question.

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.”

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit.

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position.

“I had to see you,” Anthony said.

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.”

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.”

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down.

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship.

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will.

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes.

“Is it true?”

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?”

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?”

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded.

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.”

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?”

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?”

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?”

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?”

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?”

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.”

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head.

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.”

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.”

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?”

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.”

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.”

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever.

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet.

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.”

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.”

“My lady, are you—”

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.”

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him.

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence.

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself.

You’d never felt so useless.

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

#this is so soap opera of me #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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etfrin · 5 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter five | part two | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Dr. Gaul is her own warning, Coriolanus Snow is his own warning, mentions of Arachnes' death

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 you meet Dr. Gaul and her snakes with Coryo at your side 🐍

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 here's part two!! Hope y'all enjoy it! Give me your feedback!

beta read by the AWESOME @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation

Classes were dull. He couldn't stop thinking about the morning, Sejanus' tears, and Lucy Gray's smile. It felt like a terrible dream possible when sick. He hates how easily Sejanus will have his girl after Coryo makes sure she wins.

He hates how he will never have you. And another district girl will be brought to riches undeserving or maybe Sejanus will leave with her.

He hates how he sees himself in Sejanus. Sejanus' sobs are so similar to the tantrum Coriolanus had thrown when he was eight. The tears were the same as his, unable to stop. The pain is too much. Coriolanus’ tears were of shame of who his soulmate was. Sejanus’ tears were of fear that his soulmate might die in the arena.

He had to make sure Lucy Gray won in the arena. Not because he felt pity for his so-called friend but for the fact that this would ensure his victory over the Plinth Prize. Surely, mentoring the soulmate of the heir of Plinth's fortune would get him some kind of reward, at least from the kind, foolish Sejanus.

Coriolanus received a dismissal from his current history class as he was called to meet Dr. Gaul. It took him mere minutes to reach the lab of the Academy where she was temporarily stationed until the games ended. His proposal is in his satchel. He sees you there, waiting for him, and he pauses.

He soaks you in, ignoring the confusion in your eyes. He stomps on his heart that he feels broken because of how fast it is beating. And begins to walk towards you confidently, trying to channel annoyance and anger over your actions of yesterday. He failed miserably.

He mirrors the small smile you give him and he acknowledges last night by saying, “How's the day going for you, little thief?” He feels his worries fade away, the paranoia that you might have stolen his work gone as he hears you laugh at being called a thief.

“I wasn't confident enough to let you read it, and it felt rude to make you walk back to her lab to submit when I was on my way there anyways,” you explained instead, your eyes hoping for his understanding and forgiveness.

You answered his question as well, “It's been going well, I was nearly late for my classes.”

It's pathetic how easily he caved in. “It's fine,” he whispered, “maybe next time don't leave a note, so the culprit isn't more obvious.” Coriolanus Snow decided your giggle was the prettiest sound he had ever heard and his face burns as his mind repeats it. You give him a friendly swat on his arm and Snow lets himself grin. A real smile with teeth, not the perfect one designated for his classmates.

His proposal is forgotten in his bag as he and you enter the lab. He pulls you a bit closer to him, and a bit behind so he's a step ahead. Dr. Gaul was insane and Coriolanus couldn't help the feeling of being protective of you. He didn't want you to receive even a scratch while he was there.

Dr. Gaul greets you and the Coryo with a feral look in her eyes and her red-stained lips in a wild grin befitting animals. You politely greet her back and Coriolanus follows. Coriolanus swallows as he sees hundreds if not more rainbow-colored snakes in a tank.

“For the games?” He hears you ask.

Dr. Gaul replied, “We'll see, child. Now come forth.”

Coriolanus swallows and even though he shouldn't, he holds your hand, his fingers gripping yours and he walks forward, still keeping you a step behind.

The snakes hiss and move around the tank in swirls of color that hurt his eyes. But in the limited space, he could almost make out parchments with familiar handwriting. What was Dr. Gaul planning?

As if on cue, Dr. Gaul asked, “Which brings me to your proposal. I liked it. Who wrote it? Just you two? Or did your brassy friend weigh in before her throat was cut?”

Coriolanus is surprised by the small laugh you let out, and he sees the humor in Dr. Gauls’ eyes. “No ma'am, I am sure she was rather busy choking on blood. They were written by us,” you said.

“Is that so?” Gauls' voice is full of suspicion but it deters neither of you.

“Yes,” Coriolanus butts in. “Our proposals were written completely by us.”

“Well, let's read it again, shall we?” Dr. Gaul adds, “Unfortunately, my assistant lined this very case with it while I was having my lunch. Let's retrieve it, shall we?”

“Isn't it dangerous?” Coriolanus asked, his voice edged.

Dr. Gaul chuckled and explained, “They can’t see too well, and they hear even less,” said Dr. Gaul. “But they know you’re there. Snakes can smell you using their tongues, these mutts here more than others.” “If you’re familiar, if they have pleasant associations with your scent — a warm tank, for instance — they’ll ignore you. A new scent, something foreign, that would be a threat,” said Dr. Gaul. “You’d be on your own, little boy.”

He doesn't let the fear swallow him, not when he saw how eager you were to prove her suspicions wrong. He didn't want to take Dr. Gauls' words at face value but what else could he do? In no world, he would let you dip your hand into a pit of possibly venomous snakes. Not if he had a choice.

“Me first then,” he said, his voice filled with (fake) confidence.

He puts his hand inside the tank, trying not to shiver in disgust. The snakes ignore him, slithering around his hand as he wiggles through to pull out his proposal successfully. It was safe. Which means you could do the same as well. He hands his proposal to Dr. Gaul before stepping so you can repeat the action.

And you succeed as well with flying colors. You step back to stand beside Snow as Gaul holds both of your works. She raised an eyebrow impressed but Coriolanus can see the underlying disappointment and vows to never leave you alone in her presence.

Dr. Gaul said, “Well… I will try to implement both of your ideas for the Games as soon as possible. The victory tour and idea of what you called tesserae were impeccable. Same with your idea, Coriolanus Snow. I am proud to have you both as Capitol students. I am also looking forward to Arachnes’ funeral”

“Now leave,” Dr. Gaul dismissed, “It's time for my tea and crackers.”

Coriolanus couldn't walk out of there faster. Je catches you before you can walk away. Your actions tilted his reality, in so little time since the reaping day, you were changing every thought of his.

“Choking on blood?” He said, “So much for Arachne's 'family'.”

You raised an eyebrow, “There were people in the library and it was already a bad look that we weren't in our homes grieving or whatever.”

He frowned, “So that tear- those red eyes were fake?”

You looked around the hall, the students present were out of earshot. You pulled him closer by the collar and whispered,

“Guess your songbird isn't the only performer.”

Your lips were mere inches away from his. He could seal a kiss. He could take you- he processes your words and doesn't know how to react. You… you changed his whole reality, his perception of you with a sentence. Coriolanus Snow didn't know what to make of you anymore.

You pulled back (why, why, why) and handed him your proposal. “I need you to know, everything I wrote here is for Panem. Don't judge me too harshly.”

You were nothing like he thought of and you were laid bare as he read down your proposal, what you had planned for Arachnes’ funeral. And in his mind, he realized that perhaps. . .

You stopped being District a long time ago.

NEXT PART

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bbyseok · 1 year

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this time, i’m thinking about lifeguard!bakugou. i’m pretty sure i’ve also seen a post or two about him, but lemme get my brainrot out cuz he’s driving me insane..

lifeguard bakugou doesn’t give onlookers a show they don’t deserve, but people will take what they can get with his classic black tank tops and those bright red swim trunks that hang loosely on his hips.

and really, he’s only wearing the red trunks to follow the uniform rules and look the part of being an actual lifeguard. he’s taken up the job over the summer for whatever reason.. and everyone eats it up in the end.

whether it’s at the beach or a pool, he’s on one of those tall, white lifeguard chairs designated for people like him on duty obviously. he’s got his legs spread out, his right knee swinging inward every down and then with his form reclined back as he surveys the water and the area.

there are some days he’s got a towel draped over his neck and shoulders for him to wipe his sweat away, or a pair of tinted sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose to hide his carmine eyes from the world.

it’s sight to see most definitely. and you can confirm—as you’re one of the many people who come to the water solely to look at him. okay, well- that’s partially true. you come with your friends often to actually enjoy a bit of swimming—so what if you know exactly when bakugou’s shift starts and ends?

anyways, it’s not like you’d actually initiate anything from your attraction. you’ve seen the way he’s already turned down multiple flirting attempts from the more bolder people willing to shoot their shot—it wasn’t pretty.

“i’m the fuckin’ lifeguard who’s supposed to watch your asses and you’re givin’ me a reason to drown you,” he had snapped at some particular person who thought that they had a chance. “scram.”

the lifeguard team only tolerates his blunt behavior because he’s actually pretty damn good at the job when he needs to be, and let’s be honest—he attracts a lot of people.

it’s another day of lounging by the water with your friends, relaxing on one of those typical white beach chaise chairs. you spend your time alternating between chatting and reading a spare book you had brought—paired with sneaking glimpses at bakugou, of course.

but something’s different about today. ‘cause you swear he keeps looking at you too.

you don’t wanna get your hopes up too high; perhaps your daydreaming’s getting a little too out of hand or something, but it’s a little too difficult to ignore his burning stare.

perhaps there’s something on your face? is something wrong with your swimsuit? it’s nothing too raunchy or revealing—it’s something you normally wear for these kinds of outings. or maybe he had heard you say something?

before you know it, his shift is ending soon. it’s actually so bad how you’ve got it memorized. he gets replaced with this redhead that’s definitely way more friendlier than him—kirishima, you think is his name, and you and your friends usually linger around the beginning of his shift before leaving.

“psst,” one of your friends nudges your shoulder, sitting up from the chair. “bakugou’s totally looking at you. like—he’s staring in your direction.”

you blink and sit up as well. okay so, you’re not imagining things. “what-? really?” you don’t dare cast your gaze to the lifeguard, refusing to make eye contact. “but- but why would he?”

“i dunno. maybe he-”

you finally glance over and catch sight of the the blonde heading down from his towering seat, and he tucks his rescue tube under his arm. your eyes follow him and his movements as he walks and—oh shit. he’s walking towards you.

your eyes can’t help but widen as he finally reaches your chair and tilts his head down at you, blazing eyes scrutinizing and narrowed. you’re pretty sure you almost drop your jaw on the floor. he’s even more stunning up close.

“oi,” he says gruffly, glaring down at you in some sort of expectance. “quit your gawking at me. you do that way too fuckin’ much.”

oh god, did he really come over to you just to say that? “oh- oh,” you stammer out, “i’m so sorry- i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable, i just-” you want to drown out of embarrassment, so it’s a good thing that the water’s right there so you’ll just-

“oh, shut your yappin’,” bakugou dismisses you quickly with a roll of his eyes, and you blink up at him, still a bit embarrassed that he had called you out. there’s a pause that lasts for two seconds before he says, “i’m not gonna be workin’ this shift anymore.”

and now you’re blinking up at him in utter confusion because what? why’s he telling you this? did you make him so uncomfortable to the point that he’s letting you know that he’s altering his work hours? “i don’t understand, i-”

“if you still wanna gawk at me, i’m switching shifts with the dude with the red shitty hair who usually works around this time.” the blonde clears his throat and turns his head away, letting you process his words.

wait. wait. he’s letting you know he’s changing his lifeguard shift with kirishima beforehand because he wants you to. he wants you to be there. he wants to see you there. “o-oh.”

bakugou meets your gaze again. a raspy chuckle falls from his lips then, and you let the image of his small smirk settle into your head as he offers it. “you better be there, pretty.”

(you learn later on that the days he was wearing those tinted sunglasses, he was gawking at you too.)

#bnha bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #rain’s writing #my writing #rain’s thoughts #i just realized these stories are just the different ways bakugou would ask you out in different universes lmfao

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starberry-cupcake · 1 month

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I'm back! Thank you so much for your patience and your kind messages and comments ♥ you are so nice about my silly ramblings, I appreciate it a lot.

previously, on harrowsoup the ninth:

this happened

also I posted this and this as previews and this is the whole tag

currently, chapters 23-26:

"an atmosphere of greater unease had settled over the mithraeum"

aka the emperor's bolthole

btw, no kidding, harrow, I hadn't noticed the unease

so, harrow asks around about the herald situation

I have another deck with dragon heralds but I'm not gonna go on a card tangent this time (you're welcome)

everyone gives terrible and useless descriptions

emperor johnny boy says "Whenever they come I am bundled off to a sealed sanctum at the heart of the Mitrhaeum, so that their insanity can't touch me"

asshole coward awful man

harrobean is trying to ask why emperor asshat is so sure about her having to die and if there's no way she can make it

emperor johnny says yandere twin isn't that good at being a lyctor yet, even if she's surprising and that if he was still giving silly names, he'd name her "Saint of Awe"

harrow thinks "that had not quite suited Naberius"

get perpetually owned, chad

harrow also mentions not being able to remember things well

YOU THINK, HARROW?

"it was as though your brain had formed a scab over everything that had happened to you"

I don't think that scab is healing well

emperor johnny insists on the rapier

idk why they all insist on the rapier

gideon and camilla didn't like it and were the fucking best cavaliers ever

ARE, THEY ARE THE BEST CAVALIERS EVER

PRESENT TENSE

but anyway, at this point, it could very well be emperor johnbro has aesthetic demands

not like he'll explain anything

harrowbean sees not!dulcinea's door closed, which isn't usual

she second guesses a bit because she can't always trust what she sees and she remembers crux saying "you saw what you saw, Lady, and the only thing you control now is your reaction thereto"

I didn't like that old man, but that's pretty cool of him to say

harrow opens the door and sees this

alleged gideon the first aka ortus tells harrow to go away very calmly and in a way that is too nice for him, apparently

harrow is upset at the display in front of her salad and goes to complain to yandere twin

which is a terrible place to complain at because she's both into gossip and into kink

if you want someone to take this seriously, that's the last place to go to

"at least you know who's been moving her—so to speak"

this is what we get combining yandere twin and chad

I've used that gif twice for her already

I forgive her, though, because she says "god is a dickhead" and she's right

she also asks harrow to try to remember why emperor john god has given her the sword

and establishes that harrow previously did something to her jaw so that she couldn't tell her

that's going in the 3d model

CHAPTER 24

apparently people are being less mean to harrowbean because they're already mourning her

harrow says that alleged gideon the first aka ortus has the name ortus because "it was just a banal and uncomfortable coincidence, as though he'd carried the name of a dead childhood pet"

she believes that the name must have caught on in the ninth because anastasia must have like brought it in and named people after her pal

I think he's named gideon

and that our gideon is named after him because of direct relationship of some capacity, maybe to someone involved

I considered the mom, but it's uncertain

in any case, he has to die

so, harrow puts a lot of wards and safety things in her room

kind of like this

home alone styling it

but apparently alleged gideon the first aka ortus can bypass wards

much like the sleeper/waker

much like not!dulcinea

wards are basically pointless, I guess, at this point

so he goes into her bathroom when she's bathing because here in the emperor's bolthole, everyone's a disrespectful asshole

harrowbean says he's "a thanergy void" and "the ultimate nemesis of a bone adept"

he tries to kill her while she's looking like this

I want to give this child some cocoa and play a comfort movie for her, like "the bone collector"

she ended up using the teeth she lost in the fight as projectiles in his eyes and got him to leave

she ended up bloody, unmoving, wet, naked and collapsed on the ground to which yandere twin live reacted to and left

she could have given her a hand

or an arm

she decided alleged gideon had to die and ice cube barbie aka probably annabel lee agreed

when gideon was among us, there was not enough time for her to throw hands at people and here there's so many people she could be throwing hands at and she's not here to do so

camilla too, but camilla threw hands at martita in a way that was legendary enough

CHAPTER 25

harrow goes with the chisme to dr reverend professor emperor john

she says "I swear by the Locked Tomb"

to which he replies "I wouldn't swear by that in this instance"

which I sure hope doesn't mean anything nasty with my girl ice cube barbie annabel lee because I'm gonna kill this man

she might not be entirely alive (maybe she is, maybe she's just suspended or something) but she deserves better than this piece of work

then he says "well, that's unfortunate"

this man really knows how to handle a situation, huh

emperor john says that it's pretty unlikely that alleged gideon the first aka ortus was doing the dirty with not!dulcinea because he never showed interest before and is "legendarily unamorous"

that's another tshirt I need

I need that one and the witch one immediately

also, now we've got a problem

not just because my telenovela about how this man might or might not be related to our gideon got more convoluted

but also because if alleged gideon is aroace, I'm gonna have to stan

I don't make the rules over here, I have to stand by my people

I have a conflict of interest now

emperor john also says "you must think us all a depraved set of immortal criminals"

I mean yes, I do, but not because of sexy times with zombies

I'm not here to judge the sexytimes of necromancers and whatever they do in their spare time

I don't know the intricacies of consent with ghosts or whatever, I can't be imparting judgment

it's not that, emperor john

it's because you're unpleasant war criminals who are killing planets for fun

well, the war criminal part I don't have hard evidence on rn but the situation doesn't seem to be in the favor of these people

I feel like when this man talks about the overall situation I'm getting a speech from emperor palpatine

emperor reverend john asks harrow, who has been awake for 25 years, to go to sleep

yeah, sure, she should go to sleep and wait for this guy to come by and try to kill her for the millionth time

meanwhile, harrowbean keeps collecting hours without sleep like

she makes, at the request of emperor camp counselor john, soup for everyone

I don't remember if it was here or before and I forgot but, this is extremely important

they mentioned cassiopeia being the one who cooked before

cassiopeia the same one with the ceramics collection, if I'm remembering correctly

cassiopeia who was also from the sixth, I think

camilla's house

she's checking every single one of my boxes like a sniper

why isn't she here, we're stuck with the grumpy one and the senior chad

ANYWAY, at the mention of harrow cooking I thought, immediately, "that's an awesome way to kill this guy"

I was picturing more like a poison type situation, although I didn't know how that could be achieved

something like this

but I should have known poison was too subtle for harrowcita

like I established back when protozoa's head was found in her closet, subtle isn't harrow's style

so it was more like this

basically, harrow sectioned her tibia to put some in the soup and then she could necrobend it so that it attacked from the inside

if I'm getting it right

insane plan and I love it

emperor john shadyman says "ten thousand years since I've eaten human being, Harrow, and I didn't really want an encore."

were they snacking on people during the Resurrection???

did they kill people by making lunch?????

???????????????????????????????????????????

"you think we're bad because we have sexy times with ghoulies?? uwu" that's the least of my concerns johnny john man

harrow then breaks down and asks straight to his face WHY THE FUCK MUST SHE SUFFER LIKE THIS

she calls herself a nonsense

the only nonsense here is what this emperor man speaks

she tells him she hasn't slept in six days

for a sleep deprived plan, it was excellent tbh

emperor man over here asks yandere twin to take her to sleep

and then stays with mercygirl to whom he says it's insane that harrow could do what she did and how did mercygirl miss that

this is the situation, as I have previously established

augustine looks at harrow "as if he had seen the ghost of someone he did not particularly like"

alleged gideon the first aka ortus salutes her on her way out

he doesn't even have heartburn

CHAPTER 26

we're back on gideon-less canaan house because it's time for more people to die

in ways that make 0 sense at all for what we know so far

regina george twin is pushed to her death by mayonnaise uncle

sounds fake to me

like, come on

regina george twin can probably murder that feeble guy on sight

we saw her spar with gideon, she wanted to be the cav that chad ended up being

she might not be a necro but she can stand her ground in a physical fight

mayonnaise uncle without duracell bunny nephew is like a sweaty guy on an anime con complaining about girls ruining everything while buying a maid figurine

she can take him

anyway, he does that and he says to her "and somewhere out there, may all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered"

now, this is weird

is he talking about yandere twin?

he wants revenge because yandere twin obliterated him?

is yandere twin "out there"?

I'd say this might be limbo BUT CAMILLA ISN'T DEAD

harrow is going to him and he says "she has not remembered her end" "is this how it happens then?"

and then he yeeted himself into space

that's what I wanted to do with not!dulcinea all along

so, yeah, well, this canaan business is getting more complicated now that it's not just people being shot

people are throwing themselves and others into space

and the memories of harrow in the emperor's bolthole aren't completely lining up with these

and mayonnaise uncle seemed to have been more aware of things than others around here?? or maybe just more forthcoming??? in that cryptic otaku way of his

also, no camilla at all still

Things are heating up in the emperor's bolthole, hope to come back soon with another one and thanks for the patience, hope it was worth it.

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 30 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-The next night he surprises you, when after dinner and your nightly glass of wine, he jingles his keys at you. “Still want to go for a ride?”

He’s been different, since the sketchbook incident. Despondent, and quiet. At first you thought maybe he was just hungover, but it lingers, and you sense something is on the horizon.

Good or bad, you cannot say.

Desperate to go outside and thinking that driving the car can only improve his mood, you agree.

He locks your door, of course, giving you a pointed look of fuck around and find out as you settle into the seat beside him. You simply bat your eyelashes innocently, winning a begrudging little laugh.

Jumping from a moving car doesn’t exactly appeal to you, anyways.

The loud grumble of the engine as he starts the car is a tactile experience, something you feel in your bones as surely as your ears. He smiles a little as your lips form an “O” of surprise.

You hate to say it, but once you hit the roads with The Black Keys on the radio, the windows down in the summer night, thoughts of watching for an opportunity to escape completely slip your mind. Riding in a fast car down the star-lit mountain highway is bliss, and you hold his hand between shifting gears.

You are surprised when he pulls to a stop at the very mountain outlook where he brought you on your birthday. The river in the valley is a ribbon of quicksilver in the moonlight. Before you can even think to try your door he grabs you up with a hand in your hair and his lips on yours.

You make out like teenagers in the front seat, and it is as sweet as it is maddening. Your own body has begun to forget that you need a full week of rest, his tongue in your mouth and his strong hands on your body inspiring that unhelpful ache between your legs. By the time he is finished with you, he has dragged you into the driver’s seat with him, and you are starry eyed and panting, your hair wild and your lips swollen from the fury of his kisses. He seems to like looking at you in this state, his mood completely elevated by the time he starts the car and drives you home.

He holds you close that night, and you find an insane part of you wishes he would try to debauch you again, just a little bit.

-Yet as your week of reprieve starts to draw to a close, you cannot help but dread it. It is like you are living with a ticking clock in your brain. Maybe John was kind enough to put his beast back in a box for you…but you’re certain the darkness of his was only momentarily slaked, not slain.

It will wake again.

On the eighth day he wakes you with sweet kisses on your cheek and neck, and you think to yourself, here we go.

But he just asks what you would like for breakfast, and slips out of bed.

You can hardly believe it happened.

Later, while you are in the shower he slips in behind you silent as a wraith, making you jump a foot when he touches your waist.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, though you can tell he’s really not at all, as he ducks his head to kiss you with a little smile. You start to tremble as you wonder what new ways he’s thought up to torture you in the interim. His soapy hands all over your body are a marvel, somehow both soothing and agitating all at once. By the feeling of his erection pressed into the curve of your spine, you can tell he’s not unaffected, but he does not try to further seduce you or take what he wants, just kissing you before exiting the shower.

Standing under the warm stream of the rain head, somehow he leaves you feeling cold and alone.

You wonder what new game this is, hardly believing he’ll actually leave the choice up to you.

It goes on like this for days, and you are constantly on edge, waiting to be devoured every time he touches you.

This is almost as exhausting as being caught up and fucked properly.

As it goes on you are eventually living in agony again, existing in a state of constant, always present, red-thrumming arousal that begins to eat away at your sanity.

This diabolical man will be the death of you.

In the end it is you who cannot stand it anymore, and you know it is a victory for him but goddammit you are only a woman made of flesh and blood.

After lunch you are snuggling together, laying down on the couch. He is reading to you, but you're barely listening. You are distracted by his feet, which are bare, and elegant, and ridiculously large compared to yours. You can't stop stroking them with your little pink painted toes.

If he is moved by this, he makes very little sign, though once in a while he punctuates his sentences with a slight smile you find absolutely maddening.

You interrupt him mid-page with a kiss on his neck. He stops dead to look down at you, a question in his soft brown eyes.

You kiss him again in answer, this time on the mouth, and John Wick might be a lover of books, but just this once he disrespects one with abandon, throwing it in the general direction of the coffee table.

It bounces before hitting the floor, dead on arrival.

You don’t care, because his mouth is on yours, and his hand is sliding up your ribcage to cup your breast in your pretty designer sundress, and you want him so much that you have ceased to care if it is wrong or right or somewhere in the gray.

When he so-generously slips a sinewy thigh between yours you grind on him like a cat in heat, hardly recognizing the sound that falls from your mouth.

It is quickly devoured by his lips again, and then his nipping teeth make their way down your jawline, to the soft curve of your neck.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he groans against your skin, and you wonder what price you’ll have to pay for it later when you answer:

“I missed you too.”

He pulls back to look at you with something like wonder in his shining dark eyes; the tender way he cradles the side of your face in his big hand tangles your heartstrings up in painful knots. But before either of you can ruin it with more words he is on you once more, claiming you with another probing kiss that curls your toes. He frees your breasts by undoing the buttons at the front of your dress, and it was not without some personal machination that you decided that morning not to wear a bra. His clever tongue on your nipples is your reward, and you whimper as he teases your tight buds.

You are nothing less than relieved, when his hand disappears beneath your skirt, running up the inside of your thigh to impatiently push aside your panties.

When he finds you soaking wet he growls into your mouth, circling your clit with slick-soaked fingers. You whimper in answer, clinging to him in your need, pulling at his shirt ineffectually. With those expert fingers dipping inside you and toying with your bud he brings you higher and higher, before pulling away. You scream a little, knowing you sound feral, and beyond caring about it too.

It makes him smile, a wolfish curl of lips that lets you know you’re about to be devoured.

“My fierce little kitten. Do you need me, baby?”

“Yes,” you answer, somewhat begrudgingly now. You are hoping against hope that he’s not going to play games with you today. That maybe you can just…be together, for once, without all the rest of this man’s dark baggage weighing you down.

He pulls his shirt over his head, and like always you seem to lose time staring at him, so taken by the sight of his broad chest and bare arms, scarred and tattooed as they are.

“You still like what you see?” he asks, with a surprising note of vulnerability.

“Yes.” You run your hands over his pecs, up the column of his neck to stroke the soft hair behind his ear, and his eyes slide closed. He doesn’t even make you call him Sir...and you hope this is promising.

You watch with your hands behind your head, your breasts free of the bosom of your dress, as he unbuttons his jeans and shimmies out of everything. The magnificent sight of him bare before you makes you sigh with some unnamable satisfaction, and you reach for him with open arms.

He seems to like the sight of you with your hair mused and your skirt up around your hips. He does not undress you, just slides your panties down your thighs, looking down at you as though you are something precious to behold. You are wound so tight that that look alone almost makes you cum.

With your legs wrapped around his slim hips he slides inside you, the stretch and glide of his big cock the most wonderful thing you’ve ever felt. He moans in your ear as you pull him deeper still with your heel digging into his firm buttock. You lose yourself in the sensation of him filling you up, and the muscles of his powerful back under your hands as he moves. You enjoy it as he takes what he wants from you, just reveling in the feel of him, but when he sits up to prop you on his lean thighs and circles your clit with his thumb while he’s inside you—oh.

This could be the gate to heaven, and your nails dig into the pillow behind you as he fills you with the most impossible pleasure, one flick of his thumb at a time. That scintillating tension builds between your legs, nigh unbearable in the promise of its glory. “Fuck, please, John,” you beg, because you have waited so long and you have walked through hell to finally get here.

You could murder him, when the rhythm of his touch slows. “You ready to say something for me, beautiful?”

Not this shit again.

“No,” you whimper, thrashing against the smooth leather of the couch. “No, don’t do this to me now.”

“I need to hear it,” he insists, sounding almost as desperate as you this time. “Need you to say that you’re mine.”

He’s finally done it.

After all this, John Wick has finally found your breaking point, and as it turned out it was all at the tip his thumb.

Suddenly you are filled with everything.

Everything he has put you through the past weeks. The emotional rollercoaster of the anger and the fear, the joy and sympathy and heartbreak and love. He makes you feel everything but he denies you this because you refuse to admit you are a thing to be owned by him? You are the molten core of a volcano—this is the final pound of pressure that makes you explode.

“You want me to say something?” you demand with a snarl. You try to twist away, but his hands are iron on your thighs, keeping you joined. Maybe he’s merely inside your pussy, but a part of you feels as though he’s in your very soul, and it’s not fair how he’s made his way inside you. Inside your mind, your heart, your body.

None of this is fair.

“I hate you!”

His handsome features pull in the most thunderous frown imaginable, but before he can reply you go on, “I hate you for making me love you, for dangling that in front of me then switching it for whatever the fuck this is! And I hate it that I cannot stop loving you after everything you’ve put me through! Why isn’t it enough that I love you?”

Again you fight like a wild thing, until the only way he can restrain you is to lay his body completely over yours, pinning you with his solid weight, holding your wrists over your head with an iron grip.

Those blazing dark eyes feel as though they will burn a hole in you. Raggedly he breathes through his nose, staring you down.

You’ve done it. This mad man is finally going to hurt you. This man who you loved, who you do love, is going to make certain you never see the light of day again. You shake in your fury and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks. You cannot stop them anymore than you can bring yourself to close your eyes to look away.

“Say that again,” he growls, and you are certain you sense your end in those words.

You can’t raise your voice above a whisper.

“I hate you.”

“No. The other.”

You could weep, and your voice cracks.

“I love you.”

You watch as he wars with himself, weighing your words, running the full gamut of wonder, anger, disbelief…and acceptance.

His mouth crashes over yours, and gods help you, but you meet him head on with a desperation you didn’t know yourself capable of. He is filling you again, lifting your leg with his knee and sliding deep as he can inside your needy cunt, and it is glorious.

“Fuck,” you whine, hiking up your legs nearly to your chest to bring him closer, tighter, more. He manipulates your body like a master, reaching between you to toy with your clit again. It’s so wonderful that your answering moan sounds more like a sob.

He strums you like your body is an instrument he was born to play, taking you to the shining edge to the merciless rhythm of his thick manhood burying inside you. You half expect him to pull back again, but he only watches you, watches you with those eyes that miss nothing while he grants you that ultimate pleasure at last.

Your orgasm is vicious in its intensity, ripping through you like a firestorm, your back bowing so hard you fear your spine might crack, a scream torn from your throat that surely echoes all the way down the mountain. He is right behind you, thrusting hard while the clench of your pussy pulls him over the glorious edge too. He grips you so tightly there will be bruises. The tremors of his last thrusts tease you with a splendid agony, ropes of his hot cum filling you to the brim.

When at last it is done he collapses on top of you, only propping himself just enough so as not to smother you. You bury your nose in the bend of his neck, hiding in the soft waves of his dark hair, shakily breathing in the scent of him.

When finally he can move again he sits up just enough to see you, the tip of his straight nose touching yours. “It’s enough, for now,” he tells you, and you close your eyes with relief, craning your neck to press your lips to his. He kisses you with a tenderness that breaks you all over again, your eyes filling with fresh tears.

The quiet that follows is like the hush after a battle, neither of you capable of sleep, but not really capable of motion either. It is a long time before he rolls onto his side, pulling you into him again. “I love you, y/n. I love you more…than I can possibly tell you.”

You sigh, burying your face against his chest.

“It’s ok,” you whisper. “Just…don’t hurt me, and we’ll figure it out. Ok?”

You feel him nod against the top of your head, though he says nothing in return.

Again you bask in the quiet together, your limbs deliciously tangled, until you feel a cold snoot on your back.

You turn to find dog resting his head on the couch by you, his tail wagging as he gives you the puppy dog eyes.

John snorts at the display, reaching out to scratch his ears. “He thinks we’re making him a puppy,” he huffs, clearly amused.

You laugh at the thought. “Fat chance, buddy,” you tell the hopeful pooch, turning in John’s arms so you can pet the dog.

Then you freeze, as you wonder if you’ve disclosed something you shouldn’t have.

John’s lips touch your shoulder as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him again. “It’s alright, y/n. I know about your IUD.”

“How?”

He sounds sleepy, as he answers. “I hacked your medical records. Well…I paid someone to hack them.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to know if there was anything in your history we needed to get ahead of.” He says this like it is the most natural, most acceptable thing in the world. And yet, after what happened with Helen…somehow it is also touching.

He really has managed to warp your sense of right and wrong.

“Invasive much?”

“I’m an asshole. I know.” He doesn’t sound sorry in the least, and you can tell that he is moments from falling asleep.

In that moment, you decide you feel safe enough, and content enough, to follow suite.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fic #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

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aoxizu · 2 months

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i have another 2.1 character dynamic post in the recesses of my brain but i need to get this out first

star rail's 2.1 update main plotline leans a lot more into existentialism and absurdism than i thought it would which is a really nice surprise

like i thought before 2.0 that at most it was just going to be some "oh no capitalism bad ipc bad cults also bad" thing but honestly what we got is so much more interesting. the spoilers start now

also massive disclaimer i am not a philosophist and actually i really don't like philosophy because it makes my brain hurt and i would much rather just look at logical nice things like math and plants so. if i get anything wrong please correct me

acheron's past and how she became an emanator of nihility reminds me somewhat of the absurdist theme of how people always look for meaning when there isn't any, until they finally realize that the universe is meaningless

and the entire path of nihility basically is a road towards that realization that people tread on, and the difference between the real world and star rail is that in the real world here we have people who will see that and then go write a book about a guy not crying at his mother's funeral, whereas in star rail it seems that just accepting that the universe is meaningless turns you into a pathstrider or even emanator of the nihility (not sure if i remember the details, correct me if i'm wrong)

and then aventurine's whole motivation is trying to understand why the universe is so cruel to him, and to find meaning when you have everything except freedom, both of which are absurdist themes

the leap of faith argument often attributed to søren kierkegaard claims that even though there is no rational logic for believing in god, you should do it anyway because the alternatives are madness, suicide, and ignorance. this was one solution to the problem of confronting the universe's meaninglessness: choosing to believe in a higher being regardless

later world wars i and ii both contributed heavily to the rise of absurdism as people returned from the war, having seen so many others die around them, and then just going back to a normal society with none of what they as individual soldiers had contributed seemingly doing anything. and then it happened again, but on a much greater scale with even more deaths. both wars and the destruction they brought led many people to start questioning why a supposedly moral god could allow this suffering, and this is where camus comes in and says that actually religion and nationalism both aren't good solutions, and instead we should just accept meaninglessness and keep living despite the absurdity

and i think dr ratio's scroll thing kind of relates to that

he tells aventurine to open it when he's about to die, or when he's completely out of answers for the question of how to confront absurdity

and dr ratio's answer for aventurine is to just tell him to keep living, good luck

which is. yeah

it's the argument that there are more answers to nihilism than just 1) going insane, 2) pretending like it doesn't exist, and 3) dying

it's the bold claim that despite everything, you can still choose to live

sure nothing makes sense but that does not detract from your life. it doesn't need to make sense at all

and with the understanding that things do not need to fit our human definition of meaning, we can continue on knowing our true place in the universe

and with that aventurine walks into the very big black hole like look at that thing you cannot tell me there is no symbolism there

let's go back to acheron.

in the part where you get a snippet of acheron's conversation with some guy just before this cutscene, the other party states that "[IX] leave[s] woven strands of fate for humans to walk, and together THEY weave a great shadow...And this shadow silently envelops them."

which to me sounds like a statement on how people across time and space have again and again come to the same question, what is the meaning of life?

and acheron's whole color thing seems to mean that she is one of the few who, after walking so far on the path of nihility, somehow have not died yet, be it from madness or something else

like it seems implied that many many more have seen the meaninglessness of the universe and have not reacted as well as acheron has

ok i have more to say about the elation and how it in turn relates to the nihility but that will have to come later but there is. a lot of interesting things there to explore

once again disclaimer: I Am Not A Philosophist And Do Not Know What The Correct Definitions Of These Words I'm Throwing Around Are. thank you for coming to my ted talk that was more of a longwinded ramble

#hsr #honkai star rail #2.1 spoilers #hsr aventurine #dr ratio #(briefly but i think i might have more to say about him later once my brain gets working)#acheron #hsr analysis #i should make a tag for that because this is probably not the last time i'm going on a wild tangent about star rail #but bad #bad hsr analysis #someone save me and take me back to the luofu i don't want to be doing english homework while playing a supposedly relaxing upbeat game #or whatever it was that shaoji promised in the 2.0 livestream #i just want to go back and see dan heng and jing yuan and qingque and bailu and you get the point #get me out of this dreamscape.

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suckerforblondeathletes · 3 months

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can you write a cc fic/blurb where she’s with connor but realizes she’s catching feelings for you(iowa wbb player!) and isn’t sure what to do, so she goes to kate, calls monika even, and then shows up at your door talking about how she wants to be with you and has broken up with connor despite what people might say?

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝖢𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗑 𝖨𝗈𝗐𝖺！𝗐𝖻𝖻 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 #𝟪

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝟣／𝟤

Summary: After a heated argument with Connor. Caitlin drives to your apartment in tears and you comfort her, one thing leads to another, the tension between the two of you gets brought up.

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𝖢𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇 𝖯𝗈𝗏：

Being with Connor in the beginning was great. He was sweet, kind, thoughtful. Until he wasn’t. He started spending more time on his phone. Away from me, pretending like I don’t exist really. So I started hanging out with others. Especially number 8 on the Iowa Women’s Basketball team. She was the sweetest girl I think I have met. Her beautiful hair was always perfect. Even if she thought otherwise. Now that I think about it. She’s just perfect. She’s thoughtful, kind, really funny, and very, very pretty.

“What the fuck is your problem Caitlin.” Connor yelled in her face when she caught him smiling at his phone for the 5th time at the dinner table. “What the fuck is up with you lately.” I say, throwing my spoon down on the table and leaning back in my chair. “Here you fucking go again. On this weird shit thinking I’m cheating.” He says as he runs his hands down his face. “Well I don’t know what you want me to expect when you act like this. How do I know if you aren’t?” “Maybe I fucking am Caitlin. Which I’m not. But if I was, you couldn’t do anything anyways. What would your fans think? Huh?” I feel tears brim my eyes as he finishes his sentence. “Just answer me. Are you cheating on me?” I ask, my voice shaking as I try to speak. “SHUT THE FUCK UP CAITLIN. YOUR SO FUCKING INSANE AND POSSESSIVE.” He says as he stands up and grabs my jaw. “You’re fucking sick.” He spits as he walks away. Leaving me to hold my tears back at the dimly lit dinner table. I taste blood in my mouth from trying to hold my tears back.

I get up quickly and grab my phone, and rush out the door into the pouring rain. I don’t hear him ask where I’m going. He wouldn’t care. I feel a shortness of breath and dizzy as a drive in the rain to her house. I pick my phone up with a shaky hand and call dial her number.

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𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗏：

“Hey Caitlin. I was just..” I say before noticing her shaky breath. “Caitlin? Caitlin what’s wrong?” I ask frantically, so many thoughts run in my head before she answers. “Hey um.. c-can I just come to yours and talk.” I hear her sniffle and try to catch her breath. She has called me before after a fight with Connor, so I assume this is the reason. “Babe I need you to breathe. Okay?” I call her babe when I’m serious. Or trying to calm her down. I started doing so after her games when they weren’t good. She just calmed down when I did. I never thought much of it.

I hear her take deep breathes on my command and she tells me she’s here. I run outside in the pouring rain. In her hoodie and a pair of Nike shorts. She gets out of her car and I run to pull her in my arms. I shush her to stop her crying and quick walk her inside my apartment. We don’t speak. We understand each other. It’s always been that way. Just one look between us and we understand what the other is thinking.

“Come, I’ll start a shower for you and make you food.” I say as she finally calms down and sits on the wooden stool in my dining room. We’re both soaking wet and cold. I rush to the bathroom and get the water to a warm temperature before I walk back into the kitchen to throw something in the microwave. I look back and see her sitting there at the island that’s off my kitchen counter. “I missed you” she says, not even looking up. “I missed you too. I always do.” I give her a soft smile before walking around to her. She’s sitting at the perfect height so I can wrap my arms around her wet head. As I cradle her head in my arms. She wraps her arms around my waist.

I feel like we’ve been here for hours before I pull away. “Let’s get you in the shower” I say with a soft voice and walk her to the bathroom. Her face is still sunk in and looks almost empty of color. I take her ‘Iowa Basketball’ sweat shirt off and throw it into the basket. “Let me know when your finished.” I say on my way to turn around when she grabs my wrist. I look at her, thinking something is wrong. “Can you join me?” She speaks softly, almost a whisper, looking into my eyes for an answer. “Yeah - yeah of course.” I say taking my clothes off too. There is this look in her eyes, I just can’t pin point what it is. She gets JN first and I get in behind her. The hot water running on her chest as she looks down.

I come up behind her and snake my arms around her waist as I lay my head on her back. I try to comfort her by pressing soft kisses onto her muscular back. Doing so, she turns her head to the side to look at me over her shoulder. “I never liked him much.” Her face doesn’t change as I say that. “I think you deserve better. Someone who would care for you, love you.” I say as she turns around to look at me. She still says nothing as I wrap me arms around her neck. Hers going to my waist to pull me closer into her. Our faces get closer and she speaks. “Would you?”

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𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾：OMG my first series yall oml. There is only two parts to this. Thank you for the request and I will try to write more later!! ♡︎

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin imagine #caitlin clark #Caitlin x reader #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #iowa wbb #angst to tension #Carly answer stuff #love my anons

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illubean · 1 month

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can i request headcanons of any hxh characters your choice (preferably including illumi, chrollo, and/or feitan) with a crush on/unestablished relationship with a gender neutral reader who refuses to fully align themselves with anyone but has an incredibly OP ability that requires their blood or body (can shoot blood in like spikes, detach their limbs to chase down and drag back runners, use their blood and/or tears to heal wounds, can just regrow lost limbs including their head, ect.) that would make being on their bad side more trouble then it's worth

so every fight they kind of /have/ to get injured to use it. Plus their ability weirdly doesn't seem to use nen (chrollo can't copy it and gyo doesn't show anything, ect.)

and when they're finally asked about it they're casually like "oh yeah, I'm not human. I was actually created to be an unstoppable force that infects and destroys humanity, but that's honestly too much work. Plus you give me snacks so I'd rather just hit whoever you tell me to." and their reactions to the fact this insanely overpowered goober they've fallen for is a stray shapeshifting little abomination who could have murdered the entire human race and that they're lowkey lucky reader likes getting bribed them so much

(Sorry if that's too long btw, I thought you'd like the idea but I couldn't think of a better way to condense it 😅)

HXH With an Unaligned!OP!Reader

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

i do not like how this came out but posting anyways lol...

Warnings: mentions of blood, experimentation and violence, reader isn't human if that counts as a warning

Illumi Zoldyck

the way you met Illumi was... not ideal to say the least

he was on a job to kill some scientist guy but little did he know scientist guy had quite literally created a monster

the day he was going to do his mission happened to be the day your power was finally realized

annnndddd Illumi walked in on you killing scientist guy and literally everyone else who worked for him

you had managed to pop your arms off and launch them like missiles, turn your blood into weapons and spikes around the room and also not die????? and grow your limbs back???????????

the weird part was Illumi couldn't sense any of your aura at all

he just assumed you were a super advanced nen user and were able to still keep up hatsu really well while fighting

which led him to the conclusion that he should either A. run away or B. try and get you on his side

when you noticed him just standing there you turned to stare at him like come at me bitch

"So? Are you here to poke me with more needles like the others? It won't end very well." "Actually I was here for the guy in the lab coat, but it seems like you did the job for me."

realizing he wasn't a threat (or trying to be because you know...you cant die) you let down your guard down

you ended up just following him around after that, not really having anywhere else to go so Illumi decided on plan B

turns out it took a lot less manipulating than he thought

he brought you to the estate and you agreed to help him with whatever for a popeyes chicken sandwich

watching how you wandered around the estate aimlessly and lounged about Illumi quickly realized you only use your abilities when threatened or bribed

so you become his personal little treat fueled killing machine

he takes you on missions with him because he doesn't trust you alone at the estate...

eventually he asks you about how your hatsu is so good and you're like wtf is that

and he's like What.

you tell him you we're pretty much created in that lab and they did all these tests and stuff and you didn't even really know how or why you had the power you did but you found out you did the day you met

and you were all like "they were so annoying and they told me to do stuff for free, I'd never kill you though you feed me :3"

he is so glad you are clueless and he got to you before anyone else because you could take over the entire world if you really wanted to

he is going to marry you ASAP

but again, you being clueless did not understand what marriage entails

and you agreed for the same reasons you agreed to literally anything else this man has asked of you

you are Illumi's most prized possession and no matter how freaky you are, he really does cherish you as normal people would their spouse

Chrollo Lucilfer

running into you on a heist was definitely unexpected

especially since you looked like you just got out of captivity

mistaking him for an enemy you shot your fist off at him and barely missed

and he was like woah im not an opp dw

then your hand grows back and hes like !?

he asked why you were there you explain that you were some sort of war weapon yada yada yada the guys got annoying you killed them and yeah

and Chrollo offers you to come back w him and the troupe and you're like sure if you feed me

so after the heist is over Chrollo takes you back to Phantom Troupe hq and then talks with the gang blah blah blah dismisses everyone and then takes you to wherever the hell and buys you whatever you want to eat

and while you're stuffing your face bro is like

"Your powers are pretty impressive. Mind telling me how they work?"

and not caring you tell him, mainly focused on your meal

and he's like huh what a useful ability time to steal it

one thing leads to another and he somehow gets you to touch his weird book and when he flips to where your nen should be the page is blank and he is insanely confused

and hes like "Why didn't my nen ability work on you?"

and you're like wtf is nen

and hes like oh my god I don't think this thing is human

so he asks

and you're like "I literally told you I'm a war weapon. A weapon created for war, but that's too much work."

now he is confused but also intrigued

he offers for you to join the troupe and you're like

"But being in a gang is so much wooorrrkkkkkuuuuhhhh"

you can literally destroy man kind but you don't because you're LAZY!?

you're not officially part of the troupe but you're practically an honorary member because you follow Chrollo around after your first encounter

and he decides it 's better than nothing

Feitan Portor

I can't think of a clever way for you guys to meet LMAO

umm uhhh idk maybe you were created to take out the chimera ants and happened to get deployed in meteor city the same time the troupe was hunting down the 'queen'

so when the troupe got there you were already fighting some ants

you look human enough but your abilities make Feitan think you might not be

soooo he tries attacking you before he ended up getting to the lizzard ant crocodile lady thing i don't remember what she was

and he couldn't beat you and you're like wtf do you want from me I'm trying to do my job

and hes like ??? you're not an ant?

and youre like no

and hes like oh and leaves you alone

then he throws the entire sun at the ant lady and leaves the building

he kinda forgot about you until he felts something lift the back of his cloak

and he's like !!?!?!??!

and he looks behind him to see you crawled under his coat and took the snacks he hides under there for himself

and he's like what the fuck

how did you even know he had those???? (you could smell it because you have super enhanced everything)

ok i just remembered his cloak got destroyed in this scene but pretend it didn't

anyways he snatches the bottom of it away from you and tries taking the snacks back out of your hands but you are quick to dodge

he's irritated but he just lets you have them he's too tired to deal with this

you end up following him after this like a lost puppy and the rest of the troupe is like ??????

but they can't get rid of you

and on the way out of meteor city you were like yap yap yap weapon yap yap created in a lab yap yap yap immortal

feitan could not care less about what you had to say but he was like ??? to the immortal thing

maybe you weren't a bad thing to keep around

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yoru-no-seiiki · 11 months

Text

YANDERE ! EREN JAEGER X READER HEADCANNONS

TW/CW: mdni, yandere themes, masturbation.

Have some headcannons while I wait for my henna to dry/watch the first season with my cousin.

I wish there were more who wrote for Canon! Eren. Like don’t get me wrong, Modern AU Eren is hot but I mean, fuckboys can be seen everywhere.

But Canon! Eren is batshit insane and that’s exactly what I love about him. I wish they at least add that to his modern counterpart instead of making him a basic bad boy but I mean if that’s what they’re into 🤷‍♂️

Anyways Exhibit A of why Eren in all eras is my fave AOT character:

Like I said, he’s batshit insane.

He has directly killed 2 people by the age of nine, and assisted in killing the third. Although this is out of self defense it still can’t be denied HOW HE TReateD THE SECOND DUDE HOLY SHIT- THE AMOUNT OF TIMES HE STABBED HIM.

Normal kids would just be terrified, maybe be even fight blinding and/or cry, probably even run tf away. But ya boi brought a knife and even deceived the person at the door.

EXHIBIT B:

He’d be a great yandere.

Let’s say that we age up our cast and make 18 the minimum age of enlistment (making him 21 around the attack of Trost).

Trainee Eren has the will of fucking steel. He’ll do whatever it takes to wipe out titan-kind, to make the cruel world he lived in finally know true peace.

To be with you in that new world he’ll build.

You were one of his fellow trainees. Someone who unconditionally believed and supported his desire to see the outside world. You didn’t treat him like a child as Mikasa did, and you weren’t so oddly distant when it came to his help and presence like Armin.

At first it started as a crush. An infatuation towards your looks and kind demeanor which morphed into a twisted sense of love.

You were the only one that understood him, that resonated with his wavelength.

He definitely frequently masturbated to your image. Stress was a known issue amongst trainees and soldiers alike. Many drank to rid themselves of such a problem. But to him just the thought of you two becoming one gave him relief and pleasure that any form of alcohol could never give. In the aftermath of the Trost incident, when faced with your unconscious, battered body he pulls a Shinji and jerks one off. Covering you with his release.

You think you’ll leave his mind once he gets busy with being a titan-shifter and the future of Eldia and such but nope.

Eren only has you and the new world he promised in his heart, body and soul. And that’ll never change.

EXHIBIT C:

Eren believes in freedom first and foremost.

So none of that kidnapping. At least in earlier years. He just wants you to be happy and safe. He’s more of the type to hurt others for your sake rather than be abusive and take away your rights.

Eren in later seasons has the capacity to keep you isolated, and that he will.

Like in other (unfortunately rare) fics of him, he keeps you in a farm land with a bunch of loyalists. If reader is afab! or has the ability to bear a child (for those with abo ocs or something idk) he’ll tell them that you are bearing his child and the future inheritor of his powers.

Otherwise he’ll come up with other excuses like having you as a tactician or war-hero they have to pay respects to.

He’ll give you as much freedom as he can provide while keeping you away from danger.

Though one might argue that his version of freedom for you is just an illusion.

#yandere #eren #aot x reader #eren x reader #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #yandere eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #yandere aot x reader #yandere snk x reader

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uplatterme · 1 year

Text

a/n: im putting the warnings first this time because the writing style is a bit different. also, it really isn’t clear what actually happened to sohreh so this whole thing is just a fun interpretation is all.

cw: violence, murder, dark content (this is insane, like actually. please read with caution) | sub!zandik, zandik!dottore, gender-neutral terms and pronouns but reader has a cock, exhibitionism, semi-public sex

———

Journal Entry No. XX (Recorded on: ??-??-??)

—Written By: (Dastur Sohreh)

These reports seemed to have been stained heavily with bodily fluids. Certain words are unreadable.

—The team consisted of renowned students of the Akademiya, including; Sohreh, Zandik, XXXX, and XXXX. This team was led by Sage Shanarma and Senior ▇▇.

Each one had brought something new to the plate, despite not getting along at first due to different views on the decisions that the team followed. Notably, from Zandik, whose suggestions seemed to be far too dangerous to even try, that was immediately shut down without even a second thought.

However, Senior ▇▇ always heard him out and always stood by his side whenever there were arguments. Rumors spread throughout the team about their supposed relationship.

Being scholars of the Akademiya meant that we should always rely on facts rather than meaningless accusations. Once I told them of this, the gossip was never brought up.

▇▇ was kind to everyone, even to me. They would always assist me whenever I had trouble walking because of the heat.

I had an ominous feeling that someone was glaring at me from behind whenever I was helped, but when I turned around, there was no one but the forest itself.

Perhaps, it was just my anxiety acting up from feeling as if I wasn’t contributing much to the group. ▇▇ reassured me I was doing just fine.

—I trusted ▇▇’s words about Zandik. I once found myself exploring the jungle with him and even though the start of our expedition proved that we had nothing in common, he opened up interesting topics to discuss, ranging from plants and animals to the current evolution models.

I found myself being taken aback by him, the way he spoke showed off his clearly high intellect. His appearance is also quite attractive. I sometimes matched my gaze with him intentionally and he would return it with a smile that made my heart flutter.

Unfortunately, I grew distant from Senior as I relied on this information to them. They said encouraging words about Zandik and I’s relationship but their eyes looked saddened, almost empty the longer I observed them.

They never approached me after that and the only time they would talk to me is if I approached them first.

Maybe it was true that there was a past relationship between Zandik and Senior ▇▇? If there was, it didn’t seem to matter to Zandik anymore as he agreed when I suggested that we should go on a picnic tonight.

The picnic was lovely but I couldn’t get the feeling off my back that someone was watching us together.

———

The next writings are written with blood, the writing is shaky and incomprehensible as if it was written with pure desperation.

You let out an amused sigh, taking your pen out from the drawer under your stable.

“Such a shame, Sohreh. You didn’t even get to finish this note. Should I help you out?”

You tapped the pen on the table, wondering where to start.

———

You commended your patience at the time. Seeing Zandik with someone else and not doing anything about it? You honestly couldn’t believe it.

It was obvious that he didn’t like the attention he was receiving. That’s what you told yourself, at least. You couldn’t figure out what it was that he was using Sohreh for.

Then again, he was never the one to just simply spit out answers without a price.

There wasn’t exactly a label between you two. So perhaps you shouldn’t even be jealous to begin with.

Oh, please.

The expedition was going far too smooth for your liking anyways.

The violent and loud mechanic noises rang in your ears. There were screams all coming from the team, wondering what it is that they should do.

Yet, out of all the horrified faces on each of them, one stood out.

A face of shock that soon turned into a gleeful one, excited for something new. Knowledge, that would soon quench his thirst at the moment.

He was truly an eccentric one.

You smiled as he took a step forward, and eventually, those slow steps hastened, running to the ruin guard instead of backing away.

The scholar beside you, however, still hadn’t reacted. Sohreh’s shaking. The poor thing was terrified, legs giving up and failing to notice the ruin guard eyeing her way.

You could pull her away in time if you wanted to. There was enough time to keep her out of harm’s way.

If only she listened to those rumors.

The ruin guard had attacked Sohreh, her body flopping to the floor. The sound of bones breaking stood out from the screaming and metallic noises.

You clap your hands together, gaining the attention of everyone.

“Zandik’s trying to fix the problem right now. Everyone, focus on your surroundings, don’t make unnecessary movements that’ll trigger more reactions.” You directed, ignoring the groaning of the woman below your knees.

Suffice to say, each one was horrified. There were minor injuries that the others had gotten but nothing severe. You could see how grateful they were that they didn’t end up like Sohreh, who was now laying on the ground, in dire need of medical treatment.

In the end, these scholars only valued themselves.

“Senior? What should we do?” One of them had asked, bearing a pathetic look on their face, avoiding the gruesome state of the body placed on a picnic blanket that somebody had found.

“We will return at once.”

Zandik stepped in front of you, not agreeing with that choice.

“Should we not bring this machine back to the Akademiya? I can guarantee that this can prove to be useful in different ways! It’s the first we’ve seen of this kind.” He enthusiastically said.

The others did not appeal to that thought.

It seemed that these scholars did not value the life that was slowly withering away next to them, choosing to argue instead of seeking the medical attention that Sohreh clearly needed.

“Are you insane? That thing cannot be brought back to the Akademiya! It will spur chaos with the sages!”

“And you have seen my prowess, have you not? I was the only one with the slightest clue on how to keep it dormant while you stood there like cowards!” Zandik angrily shouted back, biting his teeth together.

This silenced the arguing. He was right and everyone knew that. Without his help, who knew what else could have happened instead?

You sighed at the useless bickering. The priorities of these people were laughable.

“We’ll have to hear from the Sages, Zandik,” You reassured.

“Meanwhile, as Sohreh cannot travel. I’m requesting everyone to seek help from the Akademiya, a healer preferably, or anyone that you could reach out to as quickly as you can.”

“Well, aren’t you just as mischievous as before?” Zandik stated, no longer keeping his thoughts as everyone besides you two had left to get assistance.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Is that how you want to take this conversation?” He huffed, walking towards you—no, walking towards Sohreh.

He examined her body, guts almost slipping out of her torso, her right leg dislocated. Her blood seeped to the picinic blanket that they had used during their date.

It was honestly a miracle that she was still breathing at this point.

And almost as if she could hear your thoughts. Sohreh’s eyes opened, directly facing Zandik.

“Z-Zandik?” She mustered out, coughing and spitting out blood from her throat.

“It’s alright, I’ve taken care of the ruin guard.”

“Of course, you would have… You’re the only capable one here.” She joked.

You stayed quiet, listening in on the conversation. You doubted she even knew that you were here.

“Are you…going to help me out?” She asked and Zandik only answered with that picture-perfect smile that he always wore when he wanted something.

The man fixed her hair, moving them away from her eyes.

“Show me.” He said.

“Wha—?!”

Zandik’s right hand went for her throat, pressing deep. Her vocal cords getting too damaged for her to even scream.

She flailed her arms around, trying to escape the scholar’s grip. Sohreh was confused by the man’s new behavior. She was mouthing out several words that fell silent.

Her reactions were quite beautiful. Sohreh had always been expressive, putting everything on her sleeve. It would make sense that he wanted a better view when he finally ended this whole thing.

It was then that she decided that she couldn’t escape from this man alone. She needed someone, anyone to help her. Her eyes scouted the empty forest when she saw a familiar hair color.

“S-Senior!” She choked out, her voice hoarse and ruined.

“Zandik.” Once he heard his name being called out, he stopped.

He stared at you, those eyes that only focused on him. Oh, how grateful he was that you two were the only ones here.

Zandik dropped the woman without a care, her whole body trembling from barely escaping death. She was glad that you had intervened before it was too late.

“You shouldn’t use your dainty hands for something like this, Zandik.” You cooed and got up from your seat, approaching him.

You took his hands, bringing them to your lips, kissing them softly.

Sohreh couldn’t believe what was happening right in front of her eyes. Dainty? He had almost killed her and yet you were treating him as if he was porcelain?

“I missed this. Don’t you also?” You tilted your head as you asked him, Zandik blushing deep from your affection.

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you prove it?”

Sohreh watched in pure agony, she could barely move and even if she did, she wouldn’t get far. The pain was too much to bear to even try. Her wounds grinded against the rocky and dirty ground whenever she breathed too hard.

She could hear her organs slushing as if they were jelly. She didn’t know if it was because the whole thing made her senses more aware or if it was like that in reality.

The worse part was that you and Zandik didn’t pay any attention to her. As if you two were already set that she would die in her state, as if she was a dying cockroach that lay beneath your feet.

“You don’t know how insufferable it was holding myself back, Zandik.” You said, trailing kisses on his chest.

“To think you’d be so touchy with someone else. You really are a slut, aren’t you?” You spat out before biting his skin, your teeth going so deep that blood dripped down to his stomach.

God, Zandik could have finished right then and there.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to.” He apologized, face pouting as he said.

You chuckled at his expression. “You liar, I know you liked the attention.”

“I only like attention when it’s coming from you.” He refuted, snugging his head to your chest.

“Yeah? How could I be sure about that?”

He unbuttoned his pants, showing off everything to you. “Look at what you’ve done. Already so wet for you. I’m your slut, not anybody else’s.”

“Ah, Zandik. You know just the right words to say.” You laughed.

He grinded himself on your leg, rubbing his groin as he stared into your eyes. Lewd noises slipped out of his throat, missing how you took care of him. You pat his head and immediately, you received a whimper from Zandik.

You enjoyed the noises that Zandik made, huffs and breaths of your name as he pleasured himself with your body, begging for more.

Unfortunately, that was hindered by a scream from Sohreh whose throat you were sure would render her to never speak again. Not that it mattered, since there was no way she would be coming out of this forest alive.

You held onto Zandik’s thigh, stilling him in disappointment. “As much as I do love hearing you scream for mercy, I’m busy right now.”

She glared at you, obviously wanting to curse you out.

“However, you do remember that we’re not the only ones in this forest. I hear tigers have pretty good hearing. Ah, but you probably already knew that, being a student of Amurta and all.”

Once you reminded her, you could see fear strike in her eyes. To think she would be afraid of tigers more than you. How stupid really.

Zandik placed his ass on your lap, wanting your eyes on him.

“Need you.” He said.

“I’m sure you can do it by yourself now, no?” You answered, a flustered Zandik coughed, remembering the last time he tried to ride you.

Carefully and slowly, Zandik placed the tip of your cock near his entrance. He grit his teeth together, already feeling your warmth inside him when you’re still not all the way in.

An idea formed in your head.

“Love, can you face the other way?” You asked him.

Zandik couldn’t believe that you’d only tell him this right now when he’s almost done taking in your whole length.

Well, he could, being mean to him was your forte and he enjoyed every part of it.

He rolled his eyes back from taking you out, feeling empty.

Zandik’s back is now faced against you. You could see his hole open up as he inserted your cock inside of him.

“I’m feeling nice, Sohreh. So, I’ll give you a lesson on how to properly use Zandik.”

Zandik bounced against your thighs, moaning each time he slapped skin with you. “Haah~”

“I’ve rammed into him so many times and he’s still just as sensitive. Isn’t he great?”

Zandik whined in agreement, hearing you praise and show him off to someone else extremely turning him on.

Sohreh could only look in horror, seeing the man he admired of, moving like an animal in heat, desperate for his senior’s cock.

“See here, if you give him a slight spank.” You continued, slapping the side of his ass as gently as you were able to.

Zandik yelped, cum leaking out of his cock.

He faced down lower, gasping for air as he could feel another orgasm coming.

“P-Please–! Let me–ah!”! He pleaded your name asking for permission, which you were proud to give.

His entire body shuddered as he came, cum splattering everywhere, even to the half-dead person on the ground.

“You did so good, Zandik.”

“T-Thank you…!” He squeaked out.

Sohreh wanted to vomit, you two were insane. If the Akademiya had access to this information then—!

Her hands searched for the notepad in her pockets. With no other option, she used the blood leaking out excessively from her body.

“What are you doing?”

Sohreh tried to hide away the evidence but it was stolen quickly.

“You really are amazing. To think you’re still alive right now, even when I purposely let you get hit by that ruin guard.”

She stared in confusion. This whole thing…was your fault?

“Oh, don’t blame this on me. You were the one who went after Zandik. I’d say this makes us even, doesn’t it?”

Your hand reached for her neck, matching the bruises that Zandik had left earlier.

You squeezed hard, Sohreh losing the strength to even fight back.

Realizing that you had gone too far, you snapped out of your daze, quickly apologizing to Zandik.

“Sorry! Did you have business with her still?”

Zandik swallowed the lump in his throat, amazed at how your muscles flexed when you strangled the body.

He could feel himself getting hard again, everything you do really, sent a rushing thrill to his spine.

“C-Could you do that to me?”

You slammed yourself into Zandik’s walls, the scholar moaning in pleasure as his back laid down on the corpse which was now used as a cushion as he pleasantly received your thrusts.

The body turned into a mess as you continued pounding in him roughly and as quickly as you can, knowing that you two had only so much time before someone else got here.

“M-More! More!” Zandik begged, his head rolling back from the intense sensations.

“As you wish, love.”

#sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub dottore #sub!dottore #dom reader #dom!reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x reader #plattered writings #il dottore x reader

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fallen6253 · 1 month

Text

Hello hello!

I was rereading Choi Han’s indignity test for the thousandth time (I need more little rok soo pls I'm desperate) and the thing that catches my attention now is the clues.

It says food, warm home, clean clothes, and abundance of food for dinner.

Not thinking about any other clues the author did not show us (there was definitely so much more; we were robbed–) because that would drive me insane from what we know so far (there’s so much yet so little I wanna cry).

Anyway, some found it confusing how there were two notifications about ‘food’ and ‘abundance of food for dinner’ so now I want to word vomit about it.

There is a difference between having food to eat at all and being in front of so much food there’s no way you could eat it all.

Food in general was scarce for Kim Rok Soo at that age (well, at most of his ages but anyway) so imagine being Rok Soo and letting a stranger take you to their house because you want to avoid your own and instead of the things you probably had been expecting, this total stranger just. Started putting food in front of you and tells you to eat. To eat all you wanted. And he leaves for a bit and Rok Soo enjoys the cartoons you rarely get to watch because the TV makes too much noise and you don't want to be locked away in your cold and dark room again. But then the guy comes back with even more food and when you tell him you’re full he looks. Devastated. And the man hides the food he thought you didn’t see, which is so ridiculous you almost crack a smile, until he brings out an apple pie, and now you’re baffled.

And what really gets me is that Choi Han calls him a good boy. And little Rok Soo looks baffled. And there is no notification about comfort or praise covering up his indignity.

Which implies he is already at that stage where he does not know how to take compliments seriously and just assumes the person is either lying or stupid (which may track in his logic for this stranger that brought some random kid home and just started feeding him).

Or it implies that compliments and praise were never something Kim Rok Soo thought of wanting.

You can’t focus on wanting to be loved if your priority has to be finding a way to survive.

Which tears my heart into pieces because. This little baby, o my lord, I wish you could feel safe enough to want someone to say something nice about you, that you lived well enough to be concerned about people liking you. I wish he knew that there would be people who loved him, waiting for him in the future, and that he would not only feel lost forever. I wish he was living well enough to want to delve into his favorite books with open fervor, talking with others who were reading the same thing and discovering a new way to see a story. I wish he could feel safe enough to express himself in any other way that did not say ‘it does not matter much what happens anymore’ and ‘I don’t have the strength to go against all of this despair’. Because this little kid grows up to be so strong, in ways he can’t even see in himself because he’s too busy lifting other people up from groundless depths.

And he grows up to be something so big, and so warm that it’s such a happy miracle he survived the environments he lived through. And even after suffering so much loss and failure, he still can’t help caring for people. And he does it in a way he is conscious of, but he explains it away as a strategy to survive, and it’s his selfish way of finding solace in bright young futures he never had. Because he needs to justify it. Because simple kindness can be thrown away and mistrusted so easily, and it can vanish in an instant.

So he explains it away as a selfish action when he wishes to find solace in saving others.

In becoming the comfort to others he did not get.

In becoming the person he wanted to save him.

#the big sad here oml #little kim rok soo #child kim rok soo #cale henituse #tcf cale #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #indignity test #can we just talk about this amazing little man #another TED talk about cale's shitty childhood

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multi-level-shipper · 10 months

Text

This shit was a fucking acid trip, like most of the game.

Anyway, something that poked my brain was the Infirmary. For all this game's insanity, there were actually some decent roots planted for worldbuilding/ character development.

It seems like the reason the cast ended up in Queen Bouncelia's domain is because they're treating the player as if they have 6 stars in GTA. Seline is no exception to this rule, and that seems to be her motivation for coming down to the lower floor, as she watched us leave in Chapter 3.

Toadster noted in his "Archives" that she was already hiding when brought in, and crying in her shell. She may have been antagonized by a bigger enemy- likely Kittysaurus or Tama/Chamataki (turtle chameleon thing), and she may have gone past the kingdom's walls for sanctuary. (That's just a loose theory, though.)

In any case, at some point she was frightened enough to shut down completely.

This could be some kind of anxiety attack, though there's no way to "diagnose" Seline at this point. Also interesting that Seline felt too afraid to even continue moving around on the lower floors. I think this is meant to speak to just how dangerous the lower floors are- if the giant ass snail is afraid, you should be, too.

Next, Jumbo Josh. Toadster categorizes him as a "Green Gorilla", which in hindsight, weirdly makes a lot of sense.

Firstly, an adult silverback gorilla can bench up to 4,000 lbs (or at least, that's what google told me.) Not that we needed an explanation of why he was able to throw Stinger Flynn, but I can only assume that if we adjusted that number for his size...it probably checks out.

Second, the fact that he walks like a chiropractor's worst nightmare. It took me a second, but I FINALLY realized that his posture is meant to IMITATE A GORILLA. Like, look at this:

DEFINITELY EXPLAINS WHY HE WALKS LIKE A HORSE IN GARRY'S MOD.

And thirdly, Josh's love for vegetables is also a gorilla trait. 85% of a gorilla's diet is leafy greens, with the remaining percentage basically amounting to termites and larvae.

Not too much to say about the Fucked Up Birds, but still! Nice to see them finally displaying a flamingo behavior (AKA their sleeping posture) because they seemed to lean more heavily on ostrich behaviors in previous chapters.

Toadster mentions in his archive for "The Teacher" that she keeps repeating the phrase "I can't be late" over and over to herself after being subdued.

He also notes that the bowling pins "calmed her down," which may not entirely be the case. In Chapter 3, in Banbaleena's "Classroom", each object had an assigned role like Cool Kid and Popular Kid. The bowling pins were meant to be the Bullies.

So Banbaleena is likely stuck in a prison of her own self-doubts right about now, which is doubly sad when considering her insistence in Chapter 3 that she was actually trying to be a good teacher. Either someone placed this idea in her head that she needs to strictly adhere to all these rules, or it's a stress she placed upon herself trying to fulfill her identity as a teacher.

Stinger Flynn gets better as the story progresses. He seems to have an ego to the point where he sees himself as a savior that can't see the faults in his own plans. His initial "safest procedures" plan seemed so obvious to him, but it seems as if he measures success by efficiency rather than the cost of human lives. While he's smart, he's not immune to being wrong, though he has yet to learn this.

He also seems to suffer from some form of depression, or at least intense sadness, and we see this as he talks to Banban in the latest hallucination sequence. Makes sense- his intelligence would make him much more privy to all the horrible things happening around him. It seems as if his high intelligence comes at a high price.

Last note- This might just be a case of recycling animations/rigs, but I think it's cute that Banban shares nearly the same emo pose as Banbaleena.

#garten of banban 4 #garten of banban #slow seline #jumbo josh #opila bird #tarta bird #banbaleena #stinger flynn #banban #uthman

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non-stop-imagines · 8 months

Text

Red Lipstick Smudged

From this request 💖🤭

Pairing: Esteban Ocon x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you and Esteban just...couldn't wait.

Word Count: ~3.0k words

Warning: Porn with a plot??? (Let's just pretend that's true, car sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and all that jazz), online translator French, ruining clothing, Very mild orgasm denial but it's still there; Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: Whew! I don't know why or how but, uh, yeah. Here this is. This request was a surprising one even though the actual request was simple, I was surprised to see it when it first came in. And what better song to use? 🤣 Now this is mainly based off that second part of Partition (y'all know 😏), but it gave me great smut writing practice so I ain't complaining if y'all aren't. Also, shoutout to 🌶️ anon, you are always just so sweet and kind and supportive and I think like you said, me going and doing something else brought new inspiration for that Carlos fic so, 💋 for you. And thank you to all my anons, with and without symbols, for showing me kindness and being patient with me and checking in on me. Whenever I get those messages it immediately calms my worries because I'm so glad that I have been able to create an environment where we feel comfortable checking on each other. 💖🩷 ANYWAY, happy reading! Hope you guys enjoy! Love you all!! 💖💛💖💛

Translations: Putain, ne me taquine pas.=Fuck, don't tease me; continue, chérie=keep going, darling; Ne pleurnichez pas.=Don't whine; Les yeux sur la putain de route.=Eyes on the fucking road; Regarde, pêches.=Look, peaches.

Masterlist

"You look amazing, as always." These words come after your boyfriend gets out of the backseat of the car waiting for you two, politely waving away the driver so he can be the one to open the door for you. After getting in you dab on a bit more lipstick while you and the driver waited for Esteban to get in.

"Merci, mon amour." You give light greeting kisses to the sides of your boyfriends face and then a very light peck to his lips in an effort not to transfer any of your red lipstick.

"What was that!?" He sounded mock offended at the briefness of the kiss, obviously desiring something bit more than just a peck from his girlfriend.

"What? I didn't use the smudge proof one. It's a pain trying to get it off and the color of this one is brighter. I just don't want to get it on your lips." Your thumb swipes at his lips in order to remove the little bit of color that did transfer from the kiss you gave him a moment ago, a gesture to which he instinctively accepts.

"You know I don't care about getting your lipstick on me." He couldn't take his eyes off of you when you took out a compact to check your lipstick. He loved red on you, and you knew it. That's why you wore the dress and the lipstick. You wanted to drive him absolutely insane at the event you two were on your way to. Wanted to see how long it would take for him to crumble and take you to the nearest secluded place to fuck you senseless.

"You don't mind lipstick getting on certain places." You click the compact mirror closed and give Esteban a cheeky side eye as you put it back in your pearly silver clutch.

"What do you mean by that?" He leaned his elbow on the back of the limo seat, his hand pushing back your soft hair that fell out of its place. He then realized you got your hair done, silk press and mildly curled to create soft waves.

"Do I have to remind you of the times you asked me to put this on before sucking your dick?" The look you gave him was a grave contrast to the words you just said, innocent and adoring.

"Ah. Can you blame me though? Your pretty red lips wrapped around my cock, leaving smudges, it's a lovely sight." He was trying to play it cool as your hand slowly crawled up his thigh, but he could feel his pants getting tighter, more uncomfortable.

"Well, the venue is another 45 minutes. I could give you a little show…" Your hands found their way to the hem of his pants, slowly undoing his belt.

"But the driver…" You were already crawling down between Esteban's thighs and pushing down his pants to expose his underwear more by the time he voiced his concern.

"Just tell him to roll up the partition." You continue your task of releasing his hard dick from the confines of his underwear, leaving him to instruct the driver in French.

You couldn't lie. You loved his dick. It was long, which, even though Esteban was tall and skinny so it should be expected, surprised you every time you saw it. It curves toward his belly button slightly, and the mauve tip was already leaking in anticipation. You look up at him through your eyelashes, maintaining eye contact as you kiss the head of his cock and let just the tip into your mouth, popping it back out a moment later.

"Putain, ne me taquine pas." You flash a pretty smile up at him, knowing you already complete control over him. He would always revert to speaking French when filled with high emotion, or in this case, anticipating the feeling of your warm mouth around his hard cock. You decide to be nice and not tease him any longer, opening your mouth wide to take as much of him as you could at that moment in your mouth, reminding yourself to relax your jaw, hollow out your cheeks and breathe through your nose. You pull back after going just barely halfway down his dick, licking your way up it with a flat tongue to distribute spit and possibly make it easier to get him further into your mouth.

Esteban's view of you was unmatched. Your eyes would move between maintaining eye contact with him and an intense focus on his dick. Your full red lips were the perfect transition as he watched his dick disappear and reappear from your mouth, and sure enough there were faint red streaks of lipstick along portions of his cock. Your dress had hiked up due to your kneeling position being unfavorable for the fabric of the dress, so the bottom half of your ass was visible. Your hair was desperately out of place, the previous streamline look now slightly puffier, some portions obviously misplaced. Esteban tries to reach to fix it, but you signal for him to wait.

"I'm sweating so it fucked anyway. Leave it." You suck him back into your mouth, regaining the head bobbing pace you had moments before, and using a hand to get whatever wasn't fitting. Your tongue enjoyed the warmth and texture of his dick, and the pleasure you could see clouding his brain made you hornier by the second. You continued to try hard to get as much as you could of him in your mouth, gagging when the tip reaches the back of your throat, and trying to focus on your breathing to distract you from the sensation. But this didn't stop the excess spit from dripping down your chin and tears from producing, and in your pleasure and concentration, it completely slipped your mind that you opted for regular mascara instead of lashes that night, that was until your boyfriend wiped below your eye and showed you the running mascara.

"You're wearing mascara. What about the lashes you usually wear?" The sentence came out prolonged and shaky since him promoting conversation didn't stop you from sucking on him.

"I got a stye the last time, remember? So I decided to give them a break." You had taken him out of your mouth to answer but kept stroking him with your hands, using the lathered spit to make the action easier. Every bit of makeup on your face was smudged, but your innocent eyes looking up at him as you spoke so matter-of-factly brought him unbearably close to a climax he didn't know he was at.

"Oh. Oh-continue, chérie." You smile again, giggling at the response that you were getting from him, then going back to bobbing your head, mentally competing with yourself, seeing if you could get past your gag reflex to take him deeper. You were taken off guard when you felt the buck of Esteban's hip, succeeding in pressing more of his dick into your mouth, the abrupt action producing more tears from your eyes and for more lathered spit to bubble from your mouth. He fucks your face a couple more times, but when you couldn't take it anymore you remove your mouth and resort to your hands to give your jaw a rest. You were beautiful and messy, satisfied with the work you had done and your facial expressions showed it, and just this sight drove Esteban over the edge. He gave no warning for the spurts of cum that came shooting from his cock, landing on various places of your face and chest, with some of it ending up on your dress.

"Damn it! You got cum on my dress. I could figure out the hair situation but this…is there anything we can use to clean it up?" You sat back on your heels and examined the splotch, wondering how and if you were able to get it off before getting to the charity event both Alpine drivers were invited to attend. Esteban had his mind on other things though, pushing more of his pants down while you weren't paying attention.

"To be honest, Pêches, the last thing on my mind is this fucking event. Come here." He takes one of your hands that was tending to your dress and attempts to guide you up to his lap. You were hesitant at first, for what reason you had no idea because after seeing Esteban's lap, slender toned thighs and semi-hard dick dripping reminiscence of cum onto the bottom of his button up, you were quick to straddle his waist, you widened thighs finishing the job of bunching the bottom of your dress at your waist. You almost immediately start rolling your his into his, you covered pussy gliding over him, the wetness it produced soaking through and getting on his dick.

The scene of hips gyrating into each other was a drastic contrast to the scene of your two faces observing each other. You scanned down his face, sweat beading around his brows, cheeks flushed and tinged red, and his lips, which you take a moment longer to study, were redder and you could see faint teeth marks in the bottom one. Esteban was still enamored by the messy look of your makeup, accented by a small streak of cum on your left cheek that he goes to wipe away. Your eyes conveyed an extreme amount of love and lust, nonverbally telling him exactly how much you loved him and how horny he made you, and boy, was the feeling mutual.

Esteban leaned in for a kiss, tilting his head up slightly since you kneeling on the seat made you tower over him slightly. You place your hands on the sides of his face to finish bringing him in for the kiss, purposefully making it sloppy to ensure the red on your lips fully transferred to his. His hands made their obvious way to your ass, gripping each cheek with long slender fingers, riding along as you continued to grind on him.

"Where are we? Are we close to the venue?" You move from kissing his lips to down his neck, leaving lipstick stains wherever they went. Esteban briefly looks out the windows, then utters something to the driver that he has to repeat since the first time it was obstructed by the rolled up partition. "What did you say?" You were still rolling your hips, finding the sensation almost comforting now, and your lips were swollen from the incessant kissing.

"I told him to drive past and take us back home. I'll text Pierre later. He owes me for the last time, anyway. Bailed on me, probably for a similar reason." His right hand slid from your butt to your pelvis, and in one smooth motion pulled your underwear to the side and ran two long slender fingers through your folds, having to do little work himself as you continued to move your hips, now focused on the sensation that the presence of his fingers gave. He stops you though, moving his hands to your hips to stop your motions. "Lift up." You do as told, fully up on your knees, sternum at his nose, waiting for his next action. You let a shocked gasp fall from your lips when you feel two long, slender fingers ease into you slowly, sliding in effortlessly from how impossibly wet you were. He pulls them out fully and lifts them to his line of sight, and you watch as he separates the two appendages to show strings of arousal connecting them. "I make you this wet? Either that or you just really enjoy sucking dick." He licks the juices from his fingers and then slides them back into you, fucking into you slowly, waiting for your answer.

"Both. But only if it's your dick." You wanted to taste yourself on his lips, so you littered them with kisses. Kissing him like he was your only source of oxygen, just so you could taste yourself from his lips. You only stop when a calloused thumb is pressed onto you clit.

"Good answer." He keeps his fingers going, the "come hither" motion being made reaching spots that you could only dream of reaching with your own. Esteban could feel, and hear, that you were getting wetter by the second, the squelching noises being accompanied by the sticky slickness of your overflowing juices with each thrust of his fingers. The back of the limo had a pleasantly lewd scent of sex that swirled so wonderfully with the combined notes of woodsy vanilla from your perfume and his cologne. He was getting irritatingly hard again and this time the only feeling that could even remotely help is that of your soft warm walls wrapped around him.

"I fucking love your fingers, Daddy." You moan, moving your hips meeting the thrusts of his fingers and trying to increase the pressure on your clit yourself. But Esteban had other plans, and as you guys ventured closer to the venue, he removed his fingers and hastily grabbed his dick, rubbed the tip along your slit and stuck just that in before placing his hands on your hips to push you down onto it himself.

"Sounds like you like my dick more, pêches." This was in response to the guttural "Oh my gosh" you let out after having no choice but to bottom out on his dick.

"You're so fucking deep, I don't-" You move one of your hands from your boyfriend's shoulder to the rear window if the limo, not having to do any work yourself as Esteban guides you down onto his cock and then thrusts you back up with his hips. You were already overwhelmed with how he felt inside of you, stretching you, dragging in and out, hitting your cervix with each thrust that it took you a moment to register the riiippp from the fabric of your dress and the feeling of the damp air on your now exposed boobs. "What the fuck?"

"Ne pleurnichez pas. I'll buy you a new one." He was hypnotized by the sight of your bouncing tits in his face, your moans a background sound that immerses him further. That is until an abrupt stop of the limo causes him to unintentionally thrust deeper into you, making you scream and let out expletives as Esteban examines the situation. He quickly identified the problem: the partition was only rolled up halfway at that point, so from what he could guess, the driver was so distracted from watching your ass bounce on his cock that he almost hit the person in front of him. "Les yeux sur la putain de route." He instructed quick and angrily before motioning for him to roll up the partition again. "Are you okay?"

For Esteban, there were very few, if any, views of you that didn't turn him on immensely, and the one he had at the moment was no different. Your breasts in his face, your exhausted, pleasure filled face tilted downward, hair falling forward with your tilted head, just trying to catch your breath and recover from the unexpected feeling you just experienced. "Mhmm. Just a shock."

"Okay." He continues again slower, using the faces you were making as a gauge for when he could go back to the pace he was at. Somehow everything was timed perfectly, because by the time he reached his previous pace, or what seemed to be faster because now you were starting to chase your own orgasm, the limo had reached the outskirts of the event, still a good amount of people waiting to get a glimpse of whatever celebrity they are able to. "Regarde, pêches. Completely oblivious to you being fucked out of your mind in the back of this limo. Want to give them a show, huh? Want to show them how much of a needy little cock-hungry girl you are?" His threats were empty, knowing that the driver was going to take the next side street to take you guys back home, but he wanted to hear you beg.

"Nooo…I wanna go home." You could only think about how good Esteban's dick made you feel, and how much better it would be in the comforts of your own home. More room available. Less inhibition. Free to get off however you pleased.

"Don't worry, Daddy will get you home." You nod at him, but continue to nod as your brain shuts out everything except the feeling of Esteban's cock reaching the deepest parts of your pussy and your own fingers strategically rubbing your clit. You just wanted to cum. Well, more like needed to cum, as you've been so unbearably horny since you saw Esteban dressed in his tux before you two even left the house. "But…" He uses one large hand to stop your little fingers from working your clit while he reversed his hips to fully retract himself from you, hard wer dick, covered in your juices, bobbing close to his stomach. "You have to wait to cum. Until we get home. Then I'll make you cum as many times as you want." He guides you off of his lap, pulls his own pants and underwear back up, and then removes his jacket to give to you, which you take after attempting to cover your chest with the ripped fabric of your silky red dress.

"You're an asshole, you know that." You mope in your seat as the driver continues back to your place, the surroundings becoming familiar again as you watch out the window.

"Say what you want, you'll pay when we get home." He reaches for your hand and gives it a brief kiss, his aura sweet, but his threatening promise still looking over you. You continue to avoid eye contact, but he knew that it was all a facade. You just enjoyed acting like a little brat when you guys fuck because you knew it irritated him in a way that made him want to fuck you harder just to shut you up. So, it was even less of a surprise when your other hand reached around to aid in ripping his button up open, buttons flying everywhere.

"I just had to make it fair. I couldn't be the only one with ripped clothing." You turned to look out the window again, your boyfriend's previous promise echoing in your head. As you neared home you made little annoying complaints here and there, because one thing about Esteban is that he always kept his promises.

#Spotify #black reader #formula 1 #f1 imagines #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #request #esteban ocon x black!reader #estie bestie #esteban ocon #esteban ocon x reader #esteban ocon smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fic

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