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nothingbettertodotoday · 1 year

Text

Xavier Thorpe x reader (y/n)

No pronouns mentioned (i think) - just mention of the female dorms but this can be ignored?

Warnings; none :) might be spoilers later but not in this part!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Word Count: 1150

Author notes: this takes place the year before wednesday arrives, i've only written the first part and have no idea on the direction just yet so any ideas are welcome in messages!! This is also the first fic i have ever actually posted - let me know what you think :D

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The rain had just started, you could see specs across your window as it slowly covered the entire pane, the moonlight shone through, creating patterns of light throughout your room, you were sitting at your desk, doodling across your homework. Your favourite class was definitely botanical science with Miss Thornhill, but at the end of the day homework was still homework.

You flicked your pen back and forth, glancing around your room, looking for any distraction. Unfortunately your roommate had to leave the academy earlier in the semester, leaving you alone. You usually loved having the room to yourself, but some nights it really did feel lonely, you could hear every creak from the footsteps above, laughs from the corridor and rooms next door, it was maddening.

You decided enough was enough, you were bored and needed to do something stimulating. Thankfully, your species allowed you to keep entertained fairly easily - you were a poltergeist.

You died at a young age, but your bloodline had worked closely with witches, a spell allowed your parents to bring you back to life, but not quite as they imagined.

Your powers allowed you to do things many couldn't, you could pass through things such as walls, levitate, turn invisible (which you called ‘cloaking’), and you had a certain way with pyrotechnics. Your parents believed when you were brought back that you changed, your mood, attitude, whole personality even, mischief (which poltergeists are known for) seemed to overtake your new life. It was difficult at times - even the outcasts viewed you as weird. An outcast in a school of outcasts. You had a handful of friends here and there, but no one made you feel really safe and included.

You left your homework and pushed away from your desk. Nevermore had a curfew of students in their dorms by 10pm on weekdays, but it wasn't rare for students to break this rule. You cloaked yourself and passed through your door, your nails dragged across each door of Ophelia Hall as you left the building. You loved that you could torment people and they would never know it was you.

You had already explored most of the academy, so this time you decided to explore the woods. You followed a stream leading you deep into the woods, listening to the sound of flowing water, the further you went into the woods the creepier it got. The once light drizzle was now getting significantly heavier, owls were hooting, while the wind whistled and then suddenly a snap. A branch. Something or someone was behind you. You turned quickly but to your surprise, no one was there. As you turned you noticed a shed through a clearing, there was a dimly lit light glowing from inside. You walked towards, curious as to what could be going on.

You appeared outside the shed, you noticed an open padlock and chain hung around one of the door handles. You could hear loud music playing inside. Someone was definitely in there. You made sure your cloak was on and passed through the door, once inside you noticed drawings, paintings, artwork dotted everywhere, the walls were plastered, each desk had a sketchbook and some sort of material to be used, even the floor was littered with crumpled up paper and pencil shavings.

You looked towards the end of the shed, where the light was focused, you could see someone sitting on a stool, encased in their drawing, they were oblivious to you in the shed, being invisible did help. You looked around slowly at the artwork, you decided to flip through one of the sketchbooks closest to you, gently moving the pages so as to not alert the individual with you. One of the drawings caught your interest, an ink drawing of a statue, not just any statue, the Edger Allen Poe statue, you knew where this one on campus, the interesting thing about the drawing was that in the background there was an array of books, almost like a library behind the statue, but you knew this wasn't the case, you had scoured most the academy.

You decided to tear the page out, forgetting you weren't alone. The individual spoke out. “Who's there?”, they asked. You dropped the page and turned, you could now see the individual's face, it was Xavier. You and Xavier had a few classes together, mutual friends, but not much of a conversation ever existed between the two of you.

“I said who’s there?” Xavier asked aloud again.

You remembered you were still cloaked, you decided it would be more fun to mess with him instead of reveal yourself. You walk towards him, making your footsteps heavy so they bang on the floor with each step, you drag your hands across the desks, pulling drawings across the floor, you do your best ghost impression and let out a long ghostly moan, you even let out a few giggles on the way. Xavier looks scared, shocked, confused. You move closer to him, levitating slightly so you are face to face, all within a moment you uncloak yourself and let out the smallest “boo”, Xavier shouts and falls back into the easel behind him.

You drop to the group and apologise, all while laughing so much it hurts.

“Not cool, Y/N”, “What are you even doing here?” Xavier asks.

You offer out your hand to help him up, Xavier rolls his eyes and takes your hand.

“Maybe I should ask you the same question, you know it's past your curfew Xavier.” You say back to him. Xavier scoffed.

“Tell me then, what even are you?” he asked.

“What am I? Can you not guess, I think that would be much more fun.” you replied.

“You're a pain in the ass for one thing.”

You looked up at Xavier, his eyes seemed glossy, like he had been crying, not that you would say a word to him about it. You glanced at the drawing behind him, walking towards it, you brushed your hand across the canvas, it was a vase of dead flowers. How morbid you thought. Xavier pulled his hand over the drawing, bringing one of the dead flowers out of the canvas, he gave it to you.

“I'm a poltergeist by the way”, you said trying to diffuse the situation, not many people responded well when you told them, which is why it was a secret you usually kept to yourself.

“That's cool,” Xavier responded.

You and Xavier didn't need to say much to each other, he invited you to hang out in his art shed, which you happily accepted given your love for drawing. You spent the evening sharing glances, drawing, and giggling. For some reason you felt like you could trust Xavier, he was open and honest which was rare for students here. Everyone always seemed to have some sort of mystery about them.

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channieandhisgoonsquad · 8 months

Note

Told you that you shouldn't play along with my horny deluluism, Ivry. Now deal with the consequences:

I'm in no rush for this one or any other I make, so take the time you need.

Our sugar daddy vampire AU, when they bite her for the first time (whatever is during sex or not it's up to you)

Love you my soulmate 😘😘

I LOVE YOU TOO BABY DOLL 😘♥️

Warnings: Blood, oral (male receiving), fingering, pain, toxins, penetration (female receiving), butt stuff, wounds, double penetration, contracts, vampires, jealousy

Comment: @lyramundana's word is my command. It took a while to finish this because I don't know... lol.

Proud Vampires

The sun had set on the city you were new to, but that didn't mean you were going to sleep. You were alive and ready for the next events of the night. Both of your sugar daddies were holding onto one of your arms, making sure nothing happened to you in the next twenty minutes as you made it back to their elegant apartment.

You always felt so taken care of when they were with you, and tonight was so special that they were extra clingy. Besides the Prada that you were wearing, you had diamonds glamorizing your neck and brought all attention to what you assumed they were most excited about.

After two weeks of them treating you like their baby girl, you were being escorted by them and two guards to sign the paperwork and make it official. Your trial run was so smooth that you felt like you were dreaming the entire time. They were perfect gentlemen and exuded elegance everywhere they went.

As they treated you like their best friend, they continued being the prettiest couple in every room they entered. To the outside world, it was two beautiful gay men in a loving relationship hanging out with their best female friend; that wasn't too far from the truth as far as you were concerned.

But when they confessed to you, at the dark club you had run into them multiple times, that they were also into some kinky shit you got excited.

The two confessed to being vampires.

Being very familiar with the kinky side of sex and the darker scene, you were not phased. Well, that was until they took you into their private booth in the back and Han showed you his fangs popping out of his gums and bit down on his man's neck.

You were intrigued.

And now, you were at their dining room table with lawyers surrounding you and the two men you had grown attached to at the opposite end observing.

The head lawyer explained all the rules and made sure you agreed to each part individually, allowing room for discussion or further interpretation between you and your friends. They were as kind as ever to you, making sure you were comfortable with your allowance, your accommodations at their abode, and how frequently they would be feeding.

Once everything was signed, they took you to the basement for the first feeding. The two gods had showed you this room before. It was mostly deep red and black, to fit the aesthetic of their whole house, but with sterility being key considering the open wounds that would occur and your obvious humanity.

They sat you onto a leather chair, a similar chair to that of a tattoo studio, but much more luxurious. After you were reclined comfortably, they asked you sweetly where you would like the first punctures to be; healing will be pristine but takes a week.

"Let's go big and do my neck first, I know you guys borrowed that necklace for a reason. But if one of you wants to surprise me, that's fine too!" You smiled at the eager men at the mention of the trophy that had adorned your glorious neck. Your outfit was a plain black t-shirt with sweatpants now, one of similar outfits that had been purchased with the idea being they may be one time use.

Minho ushered his beautiful partner to have the first taste. Han didn't fight him at all, as he walked up to your figure and turned your face away for ease of access. He was mesmerized by the way your muscles changed the contour and showed him his target with clarity.

As he sunk in, you at first hissed at the sensation, but soon felt something else overcome you; arousal. When a vampire bites into their victim, there is a toxin that is released from their spit that makes the bitten feel lustful, instead of pain. For ease of consumption and possible murder.

The men had already told you of the effect their saliva has when it goes into someone's blood stream, but that didn't make you anymore overwhelmed by the emotions and sensations that were impacting you currently.

While he took his fill, which wasn't a lot to sustain him for a few days they had mentioned on the contract, you whimpered and felt your back arch off the seat. Your arms had a mind of their own, as they started reaching for your sweats and you tore them off; feeling way too hot from the toxin doing its thing.

As soon as they were at you ankles from all your kicking, Minho took them off the rest of the way for you. You stared him down as you continued squirming. His eyes seemed darker than normal, and you wondered if it was a play of the lighting. But, honestly, he seemed turned on. And was that a semi he was harboring in his leather pants?

There was one last major component of the contract that was flooding your brain now.

'If any of the party develop an attraction towards the other, and is consensual, it is allowed to be enjoyed.'

You had been confused at first, thinking that the men were gay, but they clarified to you right then that they were, in fact, both proud bisexual men that had been known to add anyone to their escapades, regardless of their gender identification.

And now, you were face to face with the devil himself, and wanted nothing more than to go to hell and experience all the dark and fun things they have to offer.

"Min- ughhhh oh god - Min I know you want to touch me. Please do." You groaned lightly as the arousal continued washing over your entire being. As you slowly moved your fingers down your torso towards your legs, the man watching took a few steps to stand above you.

"You want me? Is that the poison in your blood talking, or you?" He wondered as he ran a knuckle over you upper knee, and watched in amusement at your reaction.

You hummed loudly, trying to keep your appearance looking like you were under control. If you were being honest, which this intensity made you feel like you were shot up with truth serum, it was all you, "Come on... Everyone knows how hot you two are, even a blind man would be able to- oh my god Han are you almost done?"

Han laughed from his spot, his nose releasing a huff of air on your neck and sending chills up your spine and making you dizzy, "Baby, I can stop for you if you'd like? I was close."

"OH I'm already close, Ji." You rolled your eyes at the feeling of him removing his fangs. "Why does it feel like you just pulled out?" You squirmed at the emptiness, and the two men both snickered quietly at your reactions still.

"So dirty. Our explicit dinner seems to have no fear of saying what she likes, does she?" Your eyes were squeezed shut and you couldn't process who said what.

The thing that drew you out of your trance, was the feeling of two more fangs sinking into the flesh of your inner thigh. There was no holding back as you released a scream worthy of all horror movies. But there was no mistake if anyone watched your face that you were in pure ecstasy.

"How can I help?" Han asks as he wipes the hair off your sweaty forehead. He looked a little concerned, but more entertained than anything. "You're doing so great, sweetie."

"Just kiss me. I've wanted to taste you since that first night."

He didn't even respond, he just allowed his lips to press into your own eagerly. Minho, from his spot so close to your sex, was watching and moaning in pride at how his partner gave you what you needed after doing the same to you.

Han's lips were just as amazing as you had imagined. And the skills he possessed were something ungodly; having lived for nearly ninety years of what must have been so fun. You were in heaven despite making out with a literal being of darkness.

Both of his hands grasped your neck, allowing him to rub his thumb over your fresh wound he had given you. He released his tongue from your mouth to look at his art, "This is so much better than any hickey a loser had given you before. You look so pretty with it." He gave one long, slobbery lick to it and sent a third wave of arousal to your veins. As Han's lips returned to yours, Minho was working on his own plans.

Unbeknownst to you, Min had grown to love your noises, but wanted to take it to the next level. His hand gave no warning before it began rubbing your cunt over your undies and you immediately released your lips to moan loudly and curl your back off the comfort of your recliner. His palm was fully connected with your clit while he continued sucking and injecting his saliva into your thigh nearby and you thought you were going to faint.

Han took that opportunity to tear open the tshirt you had been wear and start sucking on your tit nearest him. You gasped at the connection, realizing he had not yet retracted his fangs and was grazing them slightly against the sensitive skin. His spit was so cold as he continued groping the other breast and pinching it where he wouldn’t dare bite down right now; fully aware of how stimulated you already were.

As Minho released his teeth from his claimed region he spoke up, “Dearest y/n, you are already more than I could’ve ever imagined. In my 140 years I have never had such pleasure from someone I shared with my beloved. Thankfully for you, I ordered this chair specially for you.” He articulated and punctuated every word with a graceful finger cleaned with his tongue and gracefully showed you what your chair could do.

From beneath the recliner came two leather cuffs that fastened around each of your ankles like a belt. While Han continued his playing, you took all your effort to watch the handsome man at your feet. As soon as he reached under the foot end of the chair, he pulled a crank that began pulling both of your legs apart.

He just kept going and going, testing both the chair and your limits at once. As soon as you were spread at what had to have been close to one hundred and eighty degrees, he stopped and analyzed your struggle with a curious look in his eyes. Han bit down on the soft flesh of your breast to bring you back to him.

“He’ll only do it if you ask nicely.” Han whispered up to you to try and be discreet.

“Shut it, mister. Let her be a big girl and talk when she is most apt to do so. You look so perfect, y/n. You should be happy that in my age I have grown to be a glutton in other departments of life… would you like to see?” You nod your head, still overwhelmed with all of the sexual feelings coursing through your blood stream.

“I need words, my lady. My handsome and foolish love has already given you a helpful hint.”

You could only gulp as you took in your surroundings. But as your eyes wandered the layout of the room, you catch sight of the inhuman bulge that was protruding from Minho’s black boxer briefs; pants somehow discarded in the last couple minutes.

Finally you found the courage and brains to conjure your sentence, “Please, sir. Would you please fuck me already?!” Somehow coming out more needy and demanding than you had planned.

Minho tutted at the uncivilized woman he had let into his life. She may be a mess, but he is willing to deal with it and help her learn how to fit in when necessary in their lives. But right now, he was more concerned about how he was going to fit his cock in.

His long slender digits began working their way into your sopping pussy, two right away and you were back to screaming. You and never been afraid to be loud during sexy, but it must be the venom they added that just riled you up more.

The fingers were eager and working hard immediately. You accepted the stretch he created as he scissored his way deeper into you.

Another finger added.

Han comes back up to meet your mouth with his. Not to shut you up, but just to feel that glorious tongue on his own for a second, “While Minnie is working you open, would you be up for taking mine, doll face?” You nod and he give you a ‘come on’ look. You know what to do.

“Of course, give it here, Han.”

Before Han could place himself close enough to you, Minho added a fourth and you sighed heavily at the stretch between your legs, and Min was speaking up over your calls, "You need to be well stretched, darling. Especially if you will be taking my member, deary." His words distracted you further, drawing you to hold yourself up by your elbows and take in what you were about to be impaled with.

Dear lord. The man at your cunt was both beautiful and overly endowed. And the meat that now hung by your head wasn't anything to take lightly either. Was this a god damn vampire thing, or were these two just extremely lucky?

After you took in the sights, you reached over to Han and pulled his manhood into your eager mouth, wanting nothing more than to please them as much as their feeding had already given you.

The younger vamp was a sight to see as you deep throated him, with small kitten licks and kisses littered between. You were loving the reactions you pulled out of this sugar daddy.

To both of your surprises, you screamed over his cock as Minho wasted no time in fully sheathing himself in your soaking pussy. Han thought he was going to cum form the vibrations and tears that were now streaming down your face, but he held back, wanting nothing more than to continue enjoying both your mouth and the view of his love wrecking your kitty for every other person (human or not) for all eternity.

"Pretty girl, you're taking Min's cock so well. Look at that face he's making. I think he might cum if you clench down-"

"Stop giving her ideas! Focus on your own orgasm and let me have her my own way." Their bickering was always amusing. Han was such a troublemaker; messing with Minho like no one else. But you liked causing trouble yourself. So, you clenched your cunt down on his dick and he moaned out, "Dear lord, the two of you will be the death of my sanity." He chuckled darkly as he flipped you over, with no regard for the other man in the room.

Han whined at the loss of connection and stimulation. While you were being rammed from behind and squealing at the new angle, "I have a better idea, baby." Han continued whining and resituating you, barely giving Minho the time he needed to pull out before your body was being contorted against your will.

You were placed on Han's lap in the same chair you were previously sat upon, facing away form his chest and straddling his hard on. You reached below to place it into your eager hole, but he lifted you up. "Sorry, sweets, but I'm going through the back entrance." And you held your breath as he lowered your ass onto his erection slowly.

Minho eagerly met your eyes and pulled you by the chin to kiss him. They were sweet and a distraction from the quick stretch Han was dealing to you. To make the situation you were in more interesting, Min started reseating himself into your pussy and rubbed your clit at the same time.

The room was your own little world, surrounded by stars and galaxies as you felt yourself losing touch with reality and entering the foggy scene of arousal. Once you fully sat on Han's lap, he lifted your lifeless body up and down himself. You were unsure of how you were taking both men at once, but as Minho continued kissing you, you were sure that this is what heaven must feel like.

As you rocked between the two, fully under their control and using no strength of your own, you felt yourself edging towards your climax. The two of them could hear the rush of your heart rate and knew what to do to get you there. Their paces were speeding up and you were thrown over the edge.

As you screamed louder than you had all night, your muscles clench around both of them and they both released into you.

You were a mess of cum, saliva, blood, and twitched at the release of your orgasm with two beautiful creatures admiring your form.

"I believe this contract will suit all of us splendidly." Min smiled proudly at his two babies that were both heaving. He kissed both of your lips and just continued to look upon you two for a few minutes while he cleaned you both up.

My spooky pookies: @lyramundana @2chopsticks2eyes @sweetracha @moonlightndaydreams @linlinaert @caitlyn98s @stolasisyourparent

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phlve · 8 months

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Psychosophy Attitudes — Volition/Will

1V / First Will

1V have very clear ideas about their I, about their personality and their desires. In addition, they are confident that they have the right to change the world according to their desires.

Ever since childhood they have felt that they have a right to more than others. Their picture of the world presupposes the presence of a ladder, and they refer to themselves as the “chosen ones”, who belong above. This feeling of being chosen is reflected in everything they do. In life, we characterise such people as people of high integrity who have a strong influence over others.

1V are born leaders, monologue leaders. Not democrats, but monarchs. The inner concept of 1V: “Only I am the leader, only I decide. I decided - and everyone must obey. " It is natural for such people that others should obey them. And often people really give themselves up to them without realising why.

The first reaction of 1V in any situation is to decide for everyone. They always have their own idea of what everyone should be doing. They believe that if a person doesn't answer them harshly, doesn't protect their boundaries, then they agree with their decision.

Demanding obedience from others, 1V themselves don't like to obey anyone. They feel too much of their privilege and singularity to allow anyone to command them. In addition, if 1V allow someone else's power over their own, this causes a loss in their “I”, which is fraught with the destruction of the supporting First function. Rebelliousness has an intrinsic value to them, it's very difficult to manage such people.

1V are the masters of their own destiny, such people have no contradiction between word and deed, between desire and realisation.

Some of the tragedy of 1V's feeling of being chosen is that they begin to distort their personality in accordance with the ideas of how "the chosen one" should behave - 1V begin to dictate to the lower functions only those forms of expression that they consider worthy of a "king". So the life of 1V turns into constant self-torture, where control reigns over everything. No weaknesses, attachments, temptations, no relaxation. Everything that tries to unsettle this rut they get rid of.

1V seeks both within themselves and in those around them to crush what belongs to their Third function, in order to turn it off, to shut their most restless part of life. But what is related to other functions of people, 1V usually don't engage in.

What they long for is power. They seek to take power always and everywhere, over everyone and in any situation. It’s as natural for them as breathing. If 1V lose power, they will try to restore it by any means - just “so that there is”. Irrevocable loss of power can break such a person. They can condemn the power existing in the hands of others and actively fight against it, but when power passes to them, they'll assert it in the same authoritarian way they fought against.

1V create their own organisation (party, company, family), not supposing the continuation of the existence of this organisation without them. Only personal power is of interest to them.

They regard fame as a natural recognition of their greatness. They make sure that the opinion of them is filled with respect and admiration, and work hard for this opinion. But they don't require any special external attributes. They don't need applause, but real power.

The relationship of 1V with God is difficult. Since God is the one who has power over all people, 1V can't accept this notion, cannot obey it. On the other hand, the fact that God alone rules the whole world is very close to their picture of the world.

1V are overly confident. They often think that they can do whatever they want, and that often fails them. Although their ability to overpower helps them to gather their will and win the battle with destiny, they often lose the campaign after winning the battle. When life breaks their wings, they can suffer very much. But they quickly recover and rush to new victories.

To 1V the world is divided in half quite categorically: there is their world and their goals, and there is the surrounding world, which is also divided in half - what is important, useful and capable of becoming a part of their world, and what is meaningless, a waste of time and resources.

A person with 1V is characterised by the feeling of his clan, his family. He wants to take care of himself and “his world,” that is, about the people who are in his system. He is ready to do a lot for these people, but not taking into account their real needs and not even being interested in them.

1V people cannot live "just like that." They definitely need to set goals and achieve them. The ability to stay focused on your goal and overcome obstacles is always reinforced by strong energy.

The goals that 1V set for themselves can apply to both work and personal life, which for them is usually part of a general life project, one of the components that should be present in the general list of their achievements. The public interest matters too much to the, even sex is not so much a physical pleasure for them as an instrument of influence.

1V are very jealous - they long for the possession of the whole being of the person who has come under their influence. The unrealisticness of the very idea of possessing the body and soul of others dooms 1V to chronic jealousy.

1V are called careerists - when opportunities in one area are depleted, 1V begin to excel in another one. Because of this, very sharp turns are possible in their fate.

In the team, 1V always emphasise their interests very clearly. They will be good subordinates if so they choose. A first-rate employee, even as a subordinate, feels more important than any boss. If the boss puts pressure on them, then they would rather quit than give up their interests.

1V are fearless about possible competition from other capable people. They equally perceive the great and the small of this world, since they subconsciously consider them all below them.

For the sake of achieving a goal, 1V can compromise the principles of morality and ethics. Although they respect the norms that have developed in society and don't like to violate them, they nevertheless believe that there are situations when such a violation justifies itself.

1V don't care under what premise they lead people, they don't believe in them. Obstacles matter just as little. If they need to walk knee-deep in mud to achieve a goal, 1V will do so.

1V often look with a squint, as if focusing the gaze and increasing the firmness. They're characterised by a steadfast, firm gaze, from which one can feel the pressure and severity. First-willed people like it when others lower their eyes under their gaze. In their plasticity there is a majesty, a lack of mannerisms, impertinence.

Their clothing usually bears signs of elitism: it's characterized by strict cuts and colors. Everything vulgar and pretentious is alien to them. At times they like to have some element of exclusivity to their clothes - some detail that is peculiar to them alone.

The inner composure of the First Will often manifests itself in the form of "buttoning" in clothing.

In their speech there are many imperative verbs, as well as words and expressions of "high calm". At the same time, the "king" allows himself to use common language. There is some duality in this - the "kings" know how to be rude, but imperatively.

They like to use diminutive suffixes when talking about others. At the same time, they don't tolerate anything like this in relation to themselves.

In general, 1V are adults, serious, purposeful people. They set goals for themselves - and achieve them, often neglecting the norms of morality and the interests of others. These people have a strong energy and aim at winning. Public interests prevail over personal ones to them. They treat themselves as harshly as they treat everyone around them.

1V types: VEFL, VELF, VFEL, VFLE, VLEF, VLFE

2V / Second Will

2V people provoke others to whine, and having received it, they're amazed by them. Their favourite activity is to calm people, to show diplomacy to reconcile everyone in their sight. At the same time, they can ask a person tediously for his plans and intentions, and then gently explain why he does not need it or will not be able to achieve what he wants, and beg to abandon them in favour of others who he considers more acceptable. 2V want to know why you are sick or what exactly does not suit you in your life, and insists on thinking together on the solution.

2V people have adequate ideas about their ID and feel quite clearly their desires and boundaries.

2V are characterised by out-of-caste perception, i.e. all the elements of being for them are not built along a vertical hierarchy, but horizontal: everyone is equal in this world, and they treat everyone equally, without humiliating or depriving anyone of attention. For 2V, there are no right and wrong, bad and good, everyone is valuable, everyone is needed. They're always ready for a constructive dialogue: as an adult with an adult.

2V prefer to build relationships with everyone on an equal footing, as in a friendly circle. At the same time, they don't impose their ideas on others and will keep at a distance that is comfortable for another person.

They usually have many friends, since they don't alienate people from themselves but rather attract them, involving them in various joint activities.

2V play into relationships, they're ready to come up with new forms of interaction, they like to give instructions to others and they're confident in their ability to resolve any conflict and arrange everything as needed.

2V can easily both lead and obey; both are given to it without tension. But still, the ideal position for them is if there's no need to rule or obey. 2V try to find a consensus with people. By retaining a leadership position, they grant everyone the right to make a common decision. Their motto: "I am in charge - but we will decide together."

2V have sufficient strength and flexibility to both attack and yield. They can “impose” their system of values on others quite consistently and adequately, and they also react adequately when someone else imposes their system on them.

2V people live without masks, they express themselves openly and naturally, fully adequate to the situation. They allow you to laugh at yourself and they're ready to publicly admit your mistakes, if they were committed. There is no sacrifice for them in this. Likewise, 2V recognise the right to error for every person.

2V people tend to notice the good in the world and focus on it. If 2V strike with humour, then this humour is not evil (unlike the satire of 3V). This person good-naturedly just laughs at different aspects of life.

2V people are not curious. They do not understand people at all, since they have no inclination to delve into the hidden corners of other people's souls.

They are bad at acting, and know how to play mainly only themselves, since in their nature there is no talent for pretending and reincarnation. They are indifferent to the opinions of others about themselves, and they trust only their own court.

2V don't tend to pull the blanket over themselves; they strive to work not for themselves personally, but for their own business. Business can mean both work and family. For 2V, “business” means a joint project that they will defend. In this sense, they have a heightened sense of duty and loyalty.

Possessing inner freedom and independence, they don't seek to join any social movements, groups, they have no need to merge with the crowd nor to lead it. Therefore, even if they become members of any organisation, they retain inner freedom.

2V people are natural guardians of morality and law. Since everyone is equal for them, then the law, in their opinion, should be the same for everyone: both a high politician and any “little man” should be judged in the same way. Their social role is to support a society shaken by ambitious passions. They calmly and firmly stand on their ground, ready to provide support when needed.

They are indifferent to glory, and the hype, inevitable when famous, causes hostility in them. Therefore even with natural talents, 2V people often remain aloof from fame.

The thing that 2V dreams most of is complete self-realisation. In what area it will be, whether it will glorify them or not is not so important.

A person brings to other people what he himself is filled with. 2V bring calmness, benevolence, generosity, and broadcast this to the people who are nearby.

2V endow a person with spiritual generosity, inexhaustibility, the ability to give themselves to others, without losing anything. That is why they are able to love truly, with dedication without the risk of impoverishment, with genuine concern for another person. Love is a natural need for them.

From the outside, the hand-held people can give the impression of being soft and pliable. But those who try to "push" them will inevitably meet with the fact that the 2V hide their boundaries very well and gently but persistently repel all attempts to subjugate it.

2V strengthens all other functions. Therefore, these are the most stable of the types. They can also be overly stable in life, not wanting to strain too much.

The weakness of the Third function is not so noticeable in 2V people. And thanks to innate fearlessness, they can more easily repair this sore spot completely. She is not afraid of mistakes and blows, so she calmly accepts them and continues to tighten her Third Function.

Sometimes it is common for 2V people to consider themselves too good. And yet you don't need to worry about these people becoming arrogant: with their mental health, this is completely uncommon for them.

2V are characterised by a calm look, which reflects benevolence, independence and some absent-mindedness. They prefer discreet clothes, which at the same time would distinguish them from those around, so as not to get to the eyes but also not to merge with the crowd. They prefer loose cut, unbuttoned styles.

We can say that people who have 2V are lucky, since the core of the personality - Will - occupies the most advantageous position in the structure of their psychotype. The Second Will gives strength and flexibility to the whole personality and makes someone fearless before life.

2V types: EVFL, EVLF, FVEL, FVLE, LVEF, LVFE

3V / Third Will

3V don't have a clear idea of their desires and their place in the world, they constantly doubt what they are entitled to. The world seems frighteningly strong, oppressive, and they constantly face this pressure, experiencing pain because of it.

Since the Will is the core of the personality, and the Third function is split and vulnerable, 3V are people who have a split and wounded core. In such people 3V influences every other function: the same as with Will is happening with their Logic, Physics, Emotion. And the blows that life inflicts on any function of this type are perceived by them as a global nightmare. They become completely vulnerable and are in eternal discord with themselves.

Other people's assessments don't just touch a person with the Third Will, but literally shake him to the very foundations. Therefore, they get used to hiding their flaws, putting on masks, adjusting to those around them, trying to seem better than they are.

The envy inherent to the Third function, in this case, becomes global: they envy not only the high Will of others, but also any other function in general, other people who are better at something than them or have succeeded more than them. Therefore, if someone deliberately throws their merits into 3V it will make them hostile.

Just like with envy, when 3V are praised for any function, even for the Second, it is very pleasing to them.

When hurting the Third function, people tend to rely on the First, so for 3V people the blows occur almost constantly, so it turns out that they tend to completely hang themselves on the First function - as a result the expression of their First function is not easy and becomes excessive, it can go beyond the normal range. That is why there are so many crazy people among 3V.

The duality of 3V lies in the fact that on one hand they're convinced of their insignificance, and on the other of their greatness. Or better, they would like to be convinced about it. And they constantly try to prove their worth to others and to themselves. Dostoevsky's books are classic descriptions of 3V. Raskolnikov's torment - "Am I a trembling creature or have I right?".

It's difficult for 3V to get along with people; they are constantly not satisfied with what they have. They see the world as evil, unfair, cruel, they often think that people don't like and respect them. There is some truth in this: 3V people are really not so easy to love: they are suspicious, touchy, capricious and often don't respect themselves or those around them.

Usually 3V have very few real friends. In childhood they had problems with peers, classmates, and parents. They are often "offended" by someone, and they can carry these offences with them all their lives.

Even if others don't offend 3V, they can come up with grievances. They tend to take at their own expense even what doesn't apply to them, like if someone says that they don't like something in other people, 3V will certainly take it personally. And someday they will take revenge - others may be struck by the change that occurs with a person who has always seemed so meek and docile, so loving and kind. They may be shocked by their rancour when they suddenly begin to express all their claims and subtle observations, which they kept in their memories so as to throw it in the face one day. Even if there is nothing to take revenge for, 3V can take revenge on society or people simply for a sense of their own inferiority.

3V terribly dislike violence against themselves, however they cannot go to open opposition so they outwardly obey, which accumulates resentment inside them - the day may come when the offender will overtake their revenge.

Alcohol greatly changes 3V: the sweetest and most courteous person can turn into a vile boor. Many 3V who are concerned about keeping their face always are afraid to touch alcohol.

3V spend a lot of energy on protecting themselves from real and imaginary wounds that others or life could inflict on them, they're too busy calculating other people's reactions and analysing their own, so they have too little energy to be interested in something.

3V are rarely loyal to anything or anyone. They can display loyalty or assure others of it, but if circumstances change they will betray their old ideals and adapt to new ones. From the outside, this may seem wicked, but to them it's the natural course of life, which they follow sensitively.

3V can never say "yes" or "no" to anything - they can rush the answer which reveals the duality of their personality. They easily "serve two masters" - there is nothing immoral about it for them. Lords can be people, beliefs, and even countries.

Lying becomes the universal means of self-defence to 3V, otherwise it would be too difficult for them to survive, since they are overly sensitive to public opinion. They need to come up with some kind of shell in which they can feel protected, which is a lie. They do it when they need to and when they don't. Lying has become a habit since childhood, and by adulthood it's usually honed to perfection. We can say that lying is a vice inherent in 3V.

3V are categorically incapable of admitting their guilt, they can be aware of it but are simply not able to admit this in front of others. For them, it's like admitting their insignificance. Likewise, it's difficult for them to ask for forgiveness.

The world view of 3V is very complex, hierarchical, caste, and the place a person occupies in this hierarchy according to them is influenced by countless factors, from appearance to religious affiliation. They subtly distinguish between "ranks" and "estates", they can determine who should be flattered and who should be neglected, and at what moment. This trait has a positive side: 3V are sensitive to class barriers, which helps them to avoid trouble whereas other Will stumbles over them. The hierarchy in their picture of the world extends not only to social life but to all aspects. If they're writers or philosophers, an intricate hierarchy can be seen in their books and philosophical works. Even in the family, they organise a complex system of subordination.

3V love power almost as much as the 1V, but don't have sufficient volitional qualities to take and hold this power. They are too weak to rule, but too strong to be allowed to be ruled by others. Therefore, 3V people often rub themselves into the confidence of the servants of power, and strive to make profitable acquaintances.

Their behaviour is often mysterious: sometimes they have a fatal look, which is some sort of a mask. The role of a mysterious hero is an attempt to look away from their "shell" at the world around them in order to understand their expectations and respond in the safest way. 3V watch from under their mask others' reaction - in order to get to know their desires as best as possible and adapt to the image that they expect to see.

3V are born actors, as they get used to a role very well. If the role doesn't fit, they change it. Such people can sort out various roles and change them right in the course of a conversation, which is usually very easy for them.

3V in addition to acting, have the gift of a psychologist: they are very curious about people and constantly monitor them, collecting facts that, on occasion, can be used against them, or even just gossip. Observations of 3V are often very accurate, but almost all of them relate to the shortcomings of people, which she can then caustically ridicule.

3V have a keen sense of everything that is funny and ugly. They can be poisonous people. Since they themselves are vulnerable at the core of themselves, they are looking for the sick, the vulnerable, the evil in others as well. They have a desire to make fun of others. At the same time, they hate to be ridiculed.

Accustomed to constantly wearing a mask in public, 3V have a need to confess, and they do so either in church, in their diaries, or with people whom at the moment they can entrust their secrets to. Often they specifically find such people and communicate with them only when they feel the need for frankness.

Even with external pressure, 3V won't act decisively. They subtly draw others into interaction, often shifting responsibility for basic actions onto others. Their purpose is to activate others, to ignite ideas. Their communication skills are better developed than any other Will. They communicate very well with everyone, they can say one thing to one and something else to another - as a result, they twist the intrigue, thanks to which they gain influence. You can call it manipulation, but the accusation of manipulativeness comes from the fact that other Will do not understand this way of behaviour, since it's not peculiar to them.

3V have problems with responsibility - they can promise anything but do nothing about it, although others counted on them. Because of this, others often distrust them. 3V people themselves say: “We just understand responsibility differently. The world is so complex that you can’t vouch for anything to be sure.”

Within 3V there is always a search for the Self. Such people aren't confident in themselves and don't understand very well who they are. Depending on the situation, mood or interlocutor, they may have different ideas about himself.

The search for oneself is the basis of the motivation of 3V, they are willing to take risks, try new roles and experience things that they haven't before. For example, they can take a fundamentally new job, leave for another country, take a position that he has never worked in before - in order to live this experience and test himself. 3V like to discover new facets within themselves. They have the motivation to grow all the time, to move forward.

As well as testing themselves, they love to test others. First of all, by Will (that is, checking where the other person will bend and where not), but also for any other function. Even the Second Function of 3V can be used by him in order to test others by it.

3V are people in the crowd. There, among people like them, they are quite comfortable. In a crowd, they may not be responsible for anything, not show individuality, here they are relieved of the need to make an independent choice. Very often 3V join some group or social movement and constitute its very core.

3V are hostages of fashion and fashion trends. They love what is popular, what everyone is wearing. 3V are often very talented - creativity is their true element but they are too guided by the opinion of the crowd, too eager to adapt to it. The creative expression of 3V lacks independence.

3V seems to bring tension, electrification, and nervousness into space. Some of them have a sense of global fear and insecurity. In their eyes, words, in all their behaviour, as if something sick, weak, evil is hidden. Also in the appearance and movements of the 3V there is something squeezed, not free.

A fleeting glance is the most striking external sign of 3V - even if they try to control their gaze, communicating face to face, you can notice how it slides unfriendly over the faces of others when they think that no one sees them.

Another trait of theirs is a sour or angry expression on their faces, which often spoils their attractive appearance. It's also common for 3V to wear sunglasses when they are not needed.

The Dictionary of 3V contains a great deal of reduced vocabulary. They like to call other people by their last names or give them some caustic nicknames. They love strong swear words and generally have excellent abilities to curse, humiliate.

Most people are 3V, it's a socially desirable characteristic: people with 3V, as a rule, choose for themselves such roles that are most approved by society. Advertising, psychological training, films, pop music and much more that society can give, is focused mainly on the 3V.

If 3V are engaged in self-development and strengthen this function, the manifestations of their Will become smoother. It will remain sensitive and finely tuned to the perception of others, but anger, revenge, lies and other properties of 3V will cease to have power over them.

3V types: EFVL, ELVF, FEVL, FLVE, LEVF, LFVE

4V / Fourth Will

4V people have vague ideas about their desires, and it is difficult for them to separate their own needs from others. At the same time, they are quite careless about their place in this world, not attaching importance to either class boundaries or the power of the mighty of this world.

The world view of the 4V presupposes an up and down, and they'll automatically place themselves down. They're internally close to the dependent role of a subordinate, a child.

They are characterised by sincerity and innocence; they don't try to disguise themselves as adults. This is exactly the kind of child that a 4V person in the family of his parents feels like, even when he becomes an adult according to his passport.

4V don't oppose themselves to others, and people usually don't want to conflict with them either. They can withstand authority among colleagues and family members due to their benevolence and openness.

4V have no need to assert themselves and influence this world. They're removed from the struggle for formal leadership. Therefore, they don't like situations where it's crucial to show leadership qualities.

Although 4V are sincerely not interested in managing people, they can force themselves to do this, but they'll improvise it in a way. It is especially difficult for them to guide subordinates with a higher Will. If these people become leaders it's probably because a boss has taken them as loyal companions.

4V people are always very loyal to a loved one. And if they are already by someone's side, it is impossible to knock them off the chosen line of behaviour. 4V don't know how to be loyal to two opposing people.

At the same time, the 4V must constantly be in the field of vision of their "master". They easily adjust to the person, building interaction on his energy and fully accepting his system of views. But as soon as the person who "imposed" this system on them disappears, 4V are freed from their values. And when another “owner” appears in their life, they can just as sincerely accept his system.

4V easily copy the strategies of behaviour of any other Will. With the First it can behave like the First, with the Second likewise, and even the strategies of the Third Will they'll easily adapt to. If the Fourth Will communicates with a higher Will for a long time and chooses this person as its “master”, they can begin to feel from within the same way as this person, but when later left alone they'll become herself again.

4V have not only the property, but also the need to trust someone, it gives them pleasure. If they're left without support, they begin to live like a restless soul. If there was a parting and the person whom the 4V trusted left them, they'll usually continue to live in their system of values for some time and go the same way, but soon stop “serving” this ideal and start looking for another.

It is common for the 4V to enter someone else's system of values, even during ordinary conversation. They prefer to understand the other rather than to impose her opinion. 4V people allow others to unfold in their presence. They want to please the interlocutor, say something pleasant and supportive. Therefore, from the outside, 4V people seem to be very polite, almost overly obsequious.

People with 4V are not always gentle and kind, unable to offend even a fly. It all depends on what system of values they have adopted for themselves or "which master they serve." And they can be loyal to both God and the Devil.

4V seem to be carried by the wind across the world. In the absence of a heavy core, they will join various currents, groups, people, then move away from them and participate in others. There is no certainty that tomorrow 4V will be the same as yesterday. The value system of the 4V can be rotated 180°. These rapid changes are quite common for them.

4V don't have the freedom to make decisions. In this they're highly dependent on others, and even if they "firmly decide" to do their own thing, there is a very high probability that they'll change this decision in favour of a person who is important to them or someone who cleverly persuades them. They don't hold on to their decisions.

4V don't like to change the established order, it is easier for her to adapt to them. If they are unacceptable to them, then without condemning or fighting they'll calmly leave for another place. And if the desire to act in their own way remains, then they'll wait for a convenient opportunity when they won't have to fight, and calmly will do what they want.

They really don't like to take responsibility in situations where they aren't sure that they can do it. If they're put in a specific role, they'll do everything they can, trying as closely as possible to follow the commitment they made. In the event that the 4V don't cope well with the assigned role, they'll calmly admit it.

Since 4V cannot be influenced by volitional qualities, they do this with the help of other functions. Under 4V, all the functions that are higher receive a certain freedom and can express themselves as they want, unrestrained by anything. Therefore, for all their inclination to obey, 4V people are great individualists. They do what they want. It just so happens that they often want to do what others want them to do. But this does not always coincide.

4V people lack a sense of personal self-preservation. Nothing can strike a blow to their personality, so they can afford to tell absolutely everything about themselves, open their souls wide open. And also let others judge them. One of the most characteristic signs of the 4V is boundless confession: these people are able to open their souls to the most secret corners.

The mentality of the 4V is the most stable. No matter what wounds and scars life leaves on their fate, they cannot break them: they seem to let them pass by and calmly begin life anew, with the same childish and trusting smile on their lips.

4V easily forget grievances and forgive anything to others, even if very severe pain is inflicted on them. They have the property of not remembering bad things. In an effort to adapt to others' Will, the 4V may try to get rid of this property, may try to be “proud” and even vindictive, but this is not their characteristic, they still forgets the bad and forgives everyone everything. It is enough to "scratch" their pride slightly - and you will see a soft, responsive heart, ready to trust you for the hundredth time.

4V types: EFLV, ELFV, FELV, FLEV LEFV, LFEV

#personality theory #personality types #typology #attitudinal psyche #psyche yoga #psychosophy

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idiopath-fic-smile · 2 years

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3, 4, 17?

3. What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

Oh gosh, generally when a fic idea really grabs me, I get too obsessed not to write it; I don't have a ton of ideas in the works, so to speak. I could talk about abandoned ideas, though?

I had this concept for a while for a Les Mis fic that starts out seeming like a traditional soulmates AU, where people's skin temporarily changes colors wherever they touch the person they're meant to marry, so it's this sci-fi regency setting where there's all these rules around when you're allowed to first hold someone's hand, etc. Enjolras is part of a small group of young extremists trying to push back against the whole concept of soulmates, and as such, they always wear gloves. Enjolras and Grantaire meet at a ball, where just as Grantaire is leaning in to whisper something snarky, he gets jogged from the back and so his lips brush the side of Enjolras's face and wham, colors everywhere, he and Grantaire are now engaged.

Only it turns out that actually in this world, the whole soulmates thing is manufactured by complex futuristic technology and is being used as social control (defy the social order and be paired up with someone The Powers That Be believe you'll hate, which is what happened with Enjolras re: Grantaire), and basically you realize it's not a soulmates AU at all but a Marriage Of Convenience story where Enjolras, his crew, and eventually Grantaire are all trying to work together to take down this massive conspiracy governing everyone's private lives, and in so doing, Enjolras and Grantaire keep having to Avert Suspicion By Pretending To Be Deeply In Love, Avert Suspicion By Pretending to Kiss, etc etc. Eventually, they Choose Each Other.

I think it could be fun handled the right way but it seemed kind of mean to anyone who enjoys a Soulmates AU, which I wasn't really trying to attack, that's just where my brain goes with the idea.

4. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter or oneshot fanfictions?

Answered here!

17. Are there any writers and/of stories that you consider an influence?

Yes, and so many that I can't possibly name them all. I tend to not start writing in a new fandom until I've absolutely bathed in it. I like getting a sense of what the sort of in-fandom conversations are, about characters and stuff.

More generally, what's coming to mind—although, of course, fuck JK Rowling—is the Shoebox Project, which was one of the first fics I ever read, around age 16, and it absolutely knocked me out. I have no idea if it would hold up, but for better or for worse, it probably set me on the road I'm on now.

#fanfic ask meme

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lazypeachsoul · 3 years

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you promise?

Request: by anon “Could you write an Osferth drabble. About anything you'd like. Please and thank you.”

Warnings: Nothing.

Word count: 1,8k

A/N: Here's the first fic for The Last Kingdom Week! Hope you enjoy some sweet baby monk. I might have gone overboard with this story, but I can't help it when it comes to osferth. Enjoy 🌼

The streets of Cookham were bustling with workers returning home from the fields that surrounded the village. Thanks to Lord Uhtred and his fame the once forgotten town had become a stop for every merchant that traveled through Wessex and the workload had increased. And you were no different than any of those other people.

The sun was now setting and it was your time to return the children you minded back to their homes, where their overworked parents would take care of them. It wasn’t normal for common workers to have child minders, normally leaving the kids at home with their mothers, but Cookham was busier than ever and women were working the fields too. And that left you to take care of the little rascals that lived in town.

You had tried to work as a seamstress and at the alehouse, but nothing seemed to really suit you. Well, at least until you started taking care of the kids. You didn’t get much pay since the people you worked for were underpaid to begin with, but the little you got you saved for a new fabric, or a sweet treat or for those times you would meet Osferth at the alehouse and you wanted to prove him that you were a hard working woman.

And how you loved those times. Osferth seemed to always be busy either training or meeting with the rest of what had now been named the “Cookham squad”. Lord Uhtred and his loyal warriors were the talk of all Wessex and a great source of gossip for the entire town. Lord Uhtred and his beautiful wife Gisela took care of the people that lived inside their walls. Then there was Finan, the loud irishman who seemed to bring joy and fun to any occasion celebrated, always close to him was Sihtric, the mysterious dane who didn’t speak much but said a lot with just a look. And the last one was the monk who is not really a monk Osferth.

When you first met him you were trying to learn to become a barmaid and accidentally tripped on his foot, sending a pitcher of ale flying everywhere and leaving you both embarrassed and asking for mutual forgiveness. Since that moment, you had started to meet together at the alehouse every few days, providing you with a nice friendship but keeping all the rules a respectable young unmarried woman should follow.

And that’s exactly where you were headed after dropping your last child at home with his grateful mother. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the familiar blonde mop of hair sitting on one of the outside benches, and you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than just casual meetings at the alehouse. At that moment Osferth turned around and waved in your direction and with a small wave you made your way to the bench, sitting in front of him.

“I thought you didn’t see me, you looked distracted.” Osferth's sweet voice spoke and you had to admit he was right, you almost missed it because of your constant daydreaming about the man. But you couldn’t admit that.

“Excuse me, the children were wild and I’m extremely tired. Must be because of the nice weather.”

“Maybe we should meet another day, I wouldn’t want to tire you more Lady-” “No!”

You hadn’t been able to stop the agitated answer from coming out when you heard his dismissal. You were tired but never too tired to stop meeting Osferth. You could feel your cheeks hot with embarrassment and you tried to clear your throat to diffuse the tension.

“I mean, I would rather stay here with you and relax with a friend.”

Osferth’s face seemed to harden at your words but as soon as the barmaid brought you two cups of ale everything seemed to go back to normal, except for a small curious voice at the back of your head wanting to know why the expression changed.

“A friend. Of course. I enjoy the time we spend together too.” He nodded his head, his blonde hair falling in front of his eyes before taking a sip from his cup. “The weather is really nice so I wouldn’t blame the children. Lord Uhtred told us that the weather would turn nicer before we leave.”

You felt the ale you had been drinking get stuck in your throat but you tried to conceal it with a soft cough so as to not cause a scene in the packed alehouse. Leave? They were leaving?

“Are you leaving soon? You didn’t say anything before.”

“Lord Uhtred just confirmed it this morning. The King has requested the Lord’s help in some negotiations with the danes. He thought it best for us to accompany him since his history with the king is not the most amicable.”

You nodded along as he spoke but your brain was overworking itself trying to comprehend the situation. They were leaving to assist the King of Wessex and they would leave Cookham unattended for God knows how long. Of course the real reason you were worried was not the village, Lady Gisela could take care of it and more without a problem, you were worried about Osferth and you. Was there even an 'Osferth and you' to worry about?

“That’s...great that the King and our Lord are speaking again. Maybe it might help us get resources from the crown.” You tried to excuse your previous silence but it must have been obvious you were deep in thought because Osferth looked at you with a curious face. “And when are you leaving?”

“We’re expected to depart tomorrow morning. Apparently those matters are very important and require us to be there as soon as possible.” He shrugged in a move to downplay the entire situation.

Silence was the only thing that could be heard from your side of the bench, a deep contrast from the rest of the groups happily chatting and drinking. The table was silent but your mind was not, still overthinking every word your companion had said. You were overthinking so much that you almost missed his quiet voice.

“I am going to miss you.” Osferth spoke and as soon as you looked at him again he seemed to flush. “And our conversations. Or friendly conversations as...friends.”

You wanted to laugh at the poor man in front of you. In the many months you had known Osferth you had never seen him that flustered in his life, cheeks and ears bright red and a stuttering mess.

“I’m going to miss you too Osferth. And our friendly meetings.” You placed your hand next to his on the table next to his, not wanting to overstep and make the poor man more uncomfortable.

He moved his hand carefully almost imperceptibly until his fingers touched yours and a warm feeling ran down your entire arm from your hand. He seemed to be the one deep in thought at the moment and you almost wished you could pick at his brain to see what was going on. Is that how he felt every time you zoned out?

“Maybe you could remember me-” “Of course I’m going to remember you Osferth, don’t be silly. You are not going to war, only a mission for the king.”

A nervous chuckle was the only thing he could let out now and his reactions were starting to worry you a bit. If it was only a small trip he shouldn't have been that nervous.

“Let me finish. Maybe if I gave you something that you could remember me by, it would be easier.”

“You don’t have to do that, Osferth. I will remember you anyways.” You tried to reason with him but you couldn’t stop him from moving to look for something in the pockets of his robes.

After a bit of fussing with the robes he placed his closed fist on top of your hand, opening it just enough for something small and metallic to fall into your hand. Moving your hand closer you found a small fragile chain that seemed to have been at least as old as you.

“It’s not much, just a scrap of metal if you try to sell it. But it was my mother’s, the only thing I have from her. I hid it from the monks when I was growing up so they wouldn’t take it away. Carried it into battle with me every time I’ve fought too.”

Every single word of the explanation seemed to make your throat close a bit more and your eyes glossier. You knew Osferth had no real memories with his mother and you could imagine how important that bracelet must have been for him.

“I can’t accept it, it’s so important to you. Why would you give it to me?” You debated with your head shaking and trying to push the chain into his hand again. “Don’t be silly, Osferth. It’s your mother’s bracelet.”

“You must keep it. Please.” He kept his fist tightly closed to avoid you giving him back the piece of jewelry. “I want you to have it.”

“But I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

You kept trying to pry his fist open, all in vain because he wouldn’t even budge. You wanted to get up and hug him for such a meaningful gesture and hit him at the same time for wanting to part with such a meaningful piece.

“You have.” He spoke, grabbing your hand and halting your movements. “Maybe you can give me your promise.”

You looked at him curiously at what his proposal might be. Maybe he just wanted you to take care of Lady Gisela, you knew how he saw her as the mother he never had. Or maybe he wanted you to care for Lord Uhtred’s children.

“You can promise me that once I’m back from Wincester you will allow me to properly court you.” He explained and you felt your heart stop. “I-If you want, of course.”

Courting Osferth was not something you had thought about, mainly because you had nothing to offer. Your parents didn’t have fields or many resources they could offer a prospective husband. And Osferth was a warrior, so you thought settling down seemed to be out of the picture for him. But you had to admit the idea made your stomach turn in the best way possible.

You realized you had been thinking for a long time and still hadn’t given an answer when you felt him squeezing your hand. Could you promise him something like that?

“I promise.” Of course you could, the idea of a lifetime with Osferth only made you more excited about life. “Only you have to promise me to come back soon.”

He nodded with enthusiasm, moving his hands to take the small chain from your delicate hand and clasp it around your wrist. This mission hadn’t even started and you already wanted it to end.

Taglist: @webreathfandoms @thebohemianpenguin @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon

#the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom x reader #tlk imagine #tlk x reader #osferth x reader #osferth imagine #tlk week #myfic

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anxious-ace · 2 years

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Dr. Bright headcanons/ideas (yes this my non-canon au):

222 years old (born in the 1800's)

First body was technically trans but ever since the incident, he has figured out that he's Genderfluid

Jack- he/him, they/them

Jackie- she/her

He's the reason foundation personnel have the option to put their pronouns on their foundation badges

His pronouns and name only really change depending on what body he's in

He determines his gender based off of the gender of the person whose body he's in

The most traumatized bitch in the entire foundation, he remembers everything and I mean everything

Since he's been around for a while, he was probably admitted into Letchworth like asylums when they were around

He is either misdiagnosed or undiagnosed when it comes to at least half of his mental disorders

The entire foundation has agreed on these rules concerning him:

You do not under any circumstance refer to him as 963, he has permission to handle the situation however he sees fit

You do not bring up his family unless he clearly welcomes it ("yeah sure" is not clearly expressed permission)

He must welcome the conversation and can report "breaches" of his boundaries to other personnel

He is allowed to authorize and stop tests in certain sites (this is because he is the site director for those sites)

If he (or other personnel) are in a site where this position does not apply to them, you are to listen to the site director of that site

Note: although "The list of things Dr. Bright is not allowed to do" is funny, most of the rules on said list aren't actual rules, others, however, are (he knows which ones)

TJ/590 can leave his containment cell and wander about the facility as long as he doesn't cause harm and is supervised (yes Bright counts as proper supervision)

He knows why he can't ask the same for 321 (he learned from his father's mistakes which the man never did)

The 05 council knows that 590 won't harm anyone which is why they authorized it, they also know that Jack is TJ's brother and would want to make sure he's safe

River is his current assistant with Jasper and Analise being his other assistants

He is extremely claustrophobic thanks to his situation

He is also constantly thinking of the many horrid ways he could die next

The reason he has so many assistants is because he is essentially everywhere and doesn't really have time to sit down and write the reports

He sends one of the assistants (since he is the site director of three sites, he has one of the assistants stationed at one of the sites (River-19, Jasper-17, Analise-63) the reports from that site for them to file and put into the archive

Clef and Kondraki are considered his friends (or acquaintances who like to insult each other on the daily) and are among the first ones who respond to the "Bright code"

It's basically Bright + a color ("bright blue" means "depressive episode or suicidal thoughts", "bright red" means "anger/boderline homicidal" and so on)

Everyone (yes this includes Clef and Kondraki) is kinda scared because this immortal and unstable man can basically do whatever he wants and somehow get away with it (although this depends on what he does)

#my ocs #scp foundation #scp oc #dr. bright #the phantom files #scp

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artxyra · 3 years

Text

Damian Acting Like A Teenager? Impossible.

When Damian entered the halls of Gotham Academy, the first thing he notices was the change in the dark atmosphere. It felt oddly kinder and more lighthearted. Everywhere he turns, there are whispers focus around the new girl. At first, he didn’t care about the gossip, well, that was until he met her.

It was an unusual encounter, something that he would look down on.

It was the passing period, and she was running down the halls in a hurry as he was walking to his next class, one that he didn’t particularly care for; they bump into each other, causing a standstill in the halls. Everyone wondered how the dark prince would react to their newly dubbed princess of sunshine. They expected a yelling match, which, of course, occurred, but what they didn’t expect was an eventual best of the worst of alliance ever made.

Several months passed since the two had met and several weeks since the blooming of Damian and Marinette’s friendship, and not a single student could say that there weren’t surprised.

The moment Marinette had broken down any (and all) walls that the boy had placed, she was able to make the stoic teen become his age. It started small with a joke here and there; then it progressed into card games followed by video games. To this day, Damian swears that he’ll beat her at a shooting game at one point, to which Marinette would respond with a laugh and an over-the-shoulder wink. The young Wayne swears that he has never blush a day in his life, but the photographic proof on Marinette’s phone says otherwise.

The school soon became accustomed to being Daminette’s playground. At first, the teachers were opposed to the idea, but after seeing how slightly more open Damian has become, they slowly agreed to the concept of allowing the duo to have less strict rules. That and they didn't want to be sued by the Wayne family.

Which now brings us to this moment: Marinette swings on a swing set while Damian practices his form with a katana; don’t ask how he managed to get it past security-- cause there is no answer.

“You know, maybe we should do something wild?” Marinette thinks aloud, looking up to the sky with a mischief smirk on her lips.

Damian doesn’t turn to her; he only sets the blade down to his side. “What mayhem do you have in mind?”

Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

Let’s assume that whatever Marinette had in mind would rule the yearbooks for years to come.

~☾★☽~

Since his partnership with Marinette, Damian has been hiding his characteristic change at home. Surprisingly, it was simple. A few death threats here and there, maybe sneaking out moments every so often. No one at the Wayne cared enough to pay any attention to it. It only then became a shock when Damian left for school along the lines of being late. Alfred had offered to take him to school to which Damian declined and got onto his “normal” motorcycle and speeds off.

“Does anyone else seem to think that Damian is acting strange?” Dick asks, pipping his head down from the ceiling. He’s on the chandelier again. Poor Alfred, maybe Dick should dust the chandelier for him as an apology.

Tim walks in with a large, filled to the brim, coffee mug in hand, “Which one?” He absently wonders, taking a long sip. The dark circles and bags around his eyes explain it all.

“I do concur with Master Richard; the young master has been acting somewhat strange for quite some time now.” Alfred appears out of nowhere, thus starting an array of concerns.

It wasn’t long before Jason came in shouting demands with the head of the household trailing behind him. Alfred reprimands Jason for the yelling as he hands Bruce a cup of coffee.

Not caring enough about the conversation and looking like a madman, Jason shouts, “Look, I can’t explain it, but we’re going to need Demon Spawn for something huge.”

“Uh, why would we need Baby Bird?” Dick asks, dropping onto the floor and twisting his body. “Not that I don’t mind getting Damian involved.”

“Look, there’s no time to explain,” Jason facepalms and begins to push everyone towards the door despite the lack of proper wear they have on.

After several protests and one change of clothes, the Wayne household now stands in front of the gates of Gotham Academy.

“Is it me, or does this place look less you know Gotham-y and full of life?” Tim ponders, narrowing his eyes, as he takes a long sip from a to-go coffee cup with Red Robin’s emblem.

“No, no, Timmy, I see it too.” Dick whispers as Jason struts past the gates and onto the school’s property like a man on a mission.

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Come on, let’s go get your brother so Jason can stop being Jason.”

Tim shrugs before passing the gates himself, with Dick following him.

Upon entering the school, they could immediately see that it was either a passing period or free time from the number of students in the halls. Some student dared to pull out their phones while other whispers amongst themselves.

Bruce makes his way to the attendance office, where the attendance assistant, Joyce, resides sitting at the desk.

“Hello Joyce, I’m here to pick up Damian. He has a, uh, dentist appointment this evening.” Bruce speaks, hoping that she wouldn’t catch the lie.

“Well Mr. Wayne, Damian is, uh…” After lingering in her thoughts, Joyce turns to someone besides her. “Do you know where Damian Wayne would be at today?”

“Try the art room.” A feminine voice answers, followed by a series of typing noises.

Joyce turns back to the Wayne family and smiles, “He should be in the art room; it’s down the hall to your right, you should not miss it, as it’s in the only hallway that has a series of artwork posted on the walls. Before you go, please sign here."

Joyce hands Bruce a sign-out sheet, to which the man signs and ushers his wards to search for his youngest.

“They’re so screwed.” The same feminine voice speaks, causing Joyce to break out laughing.

It took a total of four different locations for the men to find the youngest Wayne.

First, they went to the art room like Joyce’s co-worker told them to do.

When they got there, Damian wasn't there, but the teacher did show Bruce a couple of Damian's artworks. Bruce couldn't help but feel proud.

While looking around the room, one of the art students told them they last saw Damian playing Pokémon Go near the gym; he was trying to catch a legendary Pokémon that spawned there.

So, of course, after an awkward eye contact with one another, they walk to the gym. Once again, Damian wasn’t there but a different student in his stead. He tells them that Damian was making ice sculptures out of ice cream at the cafeteria. The student then goes on to explain that Damian had some wicked skills with a knife.

Jason, with wide eyes, practically shouted at the student that he was crazy and that Damian would never, and he means NEVER would do something that stupid. The student shrugs it off like it was an everyday occurrence. It was Dick that had to hold Jason back from thrashing the teen. Bruce then apologizes to the instructor for their disturbance, as Tim walks casually behind Dick carrying Jason.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, it was damn near empty aside from a few students still eating. There were no signs of ice cream or the tools that would go into making an ice sculpture. Tim had to ask a few students to see if Damian was in here at some point in time. One of the workers overheard the question and answered him. Evidently, Damian was there earlier making sculptures out of ice cream before handing it out to students.

When they asked the question that has been slowly driving the four insane, the worker replies with: “Upstairs racing on these old colorful scooter board down the halls."

After three locations and no Damian, Tim wanted nothing more but to have a mental breakdown, and he would have if it wasn’t for Bruce holding him up and taking his coffee away.

So, they quickly found themselves on the second level of the school. There was no sight of Damian Wayne, though there were wheel tracks smudged into the flooring.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason shouts out into the ceiling. Thankfully, there were no students in the halls to hear it. Well, that might have been the case if it wasn’t for a teacher to open their door and shh the male. It took every bone in Jason's body not to show the teacher his middle finger.

After a beat of silence and walking down the hall, they overhear a familiar voice.

“Angel, you are desperately in the wrong here. The bear only wears one color, so it has to the color red.” Jason stops dead in his tracks and turns to railings.

The voice was too good to be true.

Looking over the staircase, they find an alcove, and sitting in it is none other than Damian Wayne himself, but he’s not alone.

“I’m telling you, Wayne. Pooh’s favorite color is yellow.” The female answers before taping her fingers as she makes her points, “He loves honey, which is by default a yellow color. He's never seen with a yellow background, and if yellow didn't clash with his fur, he would definitely be wearing it.”

“I disagree. Winnie the Pooh has been drawn on numerous of occasions with red items, not yellow. Case in point, the red balloon, his shirt." He counters. The conversation continues with banters and statements; whether it was true or false is up to debate.

This was not happening.

Tim.exe has stopped working.

Jason.exe has stopped working.

Jaws dropped, a low groaning sound.

They cannot be witnessing this. The most deadliest of the Wayne’s is currently arguing about Winnie, the motherfucking, Pooh’s favorite color.

Bruce has no words. He's practically in the same stance as his middle children. Dick, on the other hand, pulls out his phone and begins to record what remains of the conversation.

No one dares to move or utter out words. This version of Damian is the apocalypse. Nothing in the world is okay.

Slowly, the four Waynes exit the school; no one saw them leave.

Legend has it that Damian never went home that day despite being excused from his classes. When he had returned home, his family didn't utter a word to him. He was meet with either a profusely blinking, unwanted hug or laughter, as they were still in shock at what they just encountered. It wasn’t until a couple of months later that all hell breaks loose. Damian had introduced the family to Marinette.

----

A retouch version of Request #2

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #artxyra one-shots #daminette

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myfeetkeepdancing · 3 years

Photo

A/N: The gif and the idea of soldier!Tom made me feel things. Not sure if I used right terminology for the army ranks. But enjoy!

NSFW! 18+

The unbearable heat, the sand, and the distance between home. It gets to you. With the sun sinking behind the horizon of sand, you make your way to the latrine. Simple plywood boxes, a couple of shower stalls, and sinks. It's a strange place. Searing heat in the day and cold nights as soon as the sun sat low. You can already feel the temperature drop as the first breeze of the cold wind blows past your exposed arms. Pushing against the door, you welcome the warm and somewhat damp atmosphere. But a wave of disappointment washes over as you spot another person in the corner of your eye. Once again, you don't have the place to yourself.

"Sergeant." You salute in one hand, the other holding your bag of clean clothes. The higher your rank, the better the facilities. That was a blatant lie. Nothing was better. You get a plain simple salute back from the other and continue on inward. You take the other stall, preparing yourself to change out of your clothes. Already feeling the unease of sharing the latrine with someone else.

"Dude...." A familiar voice calls out to you. "You look like shit."

You turn back, and only then do you notice the person you share the latrine with. Small goosebumps shoot up your skin. "Holland." Unable to keep a straight face. A ray of sunshine between all the bitter and harsh realities. "Yeah… Thanks" You sniffle at his comment. "You too."

"I heard you went outside." He says with a serious look on his face.

"Yep… we went out for patrol." You nod, sighing as you recollect what happened hours ago. "We got caught in a firefight." Jabbing two fingers near your left shoulder. "Connor got shot." Indicating the hit.

"Shit… How's he doing?"

"Lost a lot of blood. But... eh... he'll be fine." Ending the conversation by turning your back to him. Seeing him undress made you nervous. Privacy wasn't much here, but you at least try to respect the others. Hoping to get it in return.

You strip without another word and step into the shower cubicle. Opening the rusty valve connecting the shoddy pipework to release a stream of hot water. That feeling of finally being able to wash away the dirt and sand from your pores is heavenly. The sand gets everywhere. Sometimes you wonder if it's gotten into your brain as well. You close your eyes and let the water pour onto your face. Cleanse yourself of sweat, sand, dust, and stress.

With a squeaky sound beside you, your stream of water cuts half in pressure and dips in temperature. Tom got under the shower as well. "And you?" He continues, standing in the other shower cubicle. Being square in size, made of plywood, and covering very little to nothing. Shower curtains are something the army never heard of. No privacy whatsoever. "You don't look too good."

"I'm fine." You grumble and avoid eye contact. It felt weird in many ways. If you wanted to talk with someone, you preferred to do that somewhere else. "Just… counting down the days, you know…" And try to shrug off your thoughts. Turning away slowly from the conversation.

"Yeah… You and me both." He confessed. "Damn desert. Sand gets everywhere." Chuckling to himself.

"It really does..." You sigh as the water runs down your face. Relaxing you. But time and water are limited. Opening your eyes, you reach beside you for the shampoo.

A shot of heat coursed through you. As if being caught. But you weren't. You caught Tom, arching forward, staring down into your stall. It happens quickly, and you manage to catch glimpses. While his one hand continued washing his abs and chest. The other surely wasn't doing that. You share a glimpse of eye contact. You couldn't help it either. You looked. Your eyes were drawn to it. It was awkward enough for the both of you to look back away right after. Tom shifted his gaze to the front of him, looking at the stream of water. Anything to avoid each other. You pour the shampoo in your hands." Eyes to yourself, Holland."

"Yeah, Yeah…" He mumbled while continuing to scrub himself clean. Instinctively you both turned your backs to each other. "I eh… was looking for my shampoo." Scraping his voice with rather an unease and slight nervousness.

"I… I don't have it, Tom." You said, scanning the floor around you. "M-Must have fallen down the other side." Taken aback by the sound of your own voice. You weren't sure if the last remaining bits of adrenaline from earlier were surfacing or that which you saw earlier. But the authority in your voice was softened. And one thing is sure, you're trembling lightly. Watching the shampoo wiggle in your hand. You try to steady your breathing. You try to shake it off. Continue cleaning yourself. Let the water run down your face again. Count down from ten. Think of happy things. Cats. Dogs. Home. The beach. Shirtless Tom…

You cursed yourself under your breath. Feeling the blood race to places you wish it wouldn't. Think of other things. Reset your mind. But you can't. The trembles become worse. And you can't fool your body any longer. You feel it. The terror grows as quickly as your length hardens. The quick-paced footsteps coming from the other stall send you into a panicked state.

"Let me use yours." He announced as the plywood makeshift door creaks open behind you. It's enough to make your heart skip several beats. You want to scold him, bellow in outrage. Entering one's shower cubicle was strictly forbidden. You know the rules. You knew them all too well.

Turning on your heel, ready to face him. Snarl him a disciplinary warning. "We agreed-..." The words came out shakingly. Quieter than you had planned. But they were silenced. Tom had closed the distance faster than the plywood door could fall shut on its own. You embrace the feeling of his lips on yours wholeheartedly. You close your eyes and let it happen. Moaning softly into the kiss as you both inched together. An erratic groan escaped both your lips as you watched each other, feeling your cocks come in contact. Like blunt swords battling it out. "T-Tom… We p-promised we'd never…."

"No, shut up…" He cut you off, cupping your cheeks in both his hands rather aggressively. Followed by a smashing on his lips on yours. "I missed you so much." He whispered, staring at you with this loving glint in his eye. “Your touch... all of it.”

"I missed you too." You reply with a growing smile. The emotion in Tom's eyes, the passion, the care. Nothing made this hell hole of a desert easier than being with him. Feeling a mutual smile grow. "I love you." You both whispered in unison. Careful not to speak it out loud.

"We have little time." He glanced back at the white clock hanging beside the door. Even showering time for Sergeants had its limits. With a quick gesture, you wind the chain of his dog tag around your fingers. Pulling his lips in. "Will you be quiet for me?" You command, more than ask, pinning him to the corner of the cubicle. Tom's pleading eyes said enough as you put the dog tag between his teeth. Nodding eagerly in agreement. He looks drop-dead gorgeous. But you have little time to take it in. Tom swings both arms to either side of the plywood walls. Seeing him all ready and willing, you quickly grab both his legs and hoist him up by the knees. Quickly repositioning your hands on his hips, and then the asscheeks. Stabilizing the position as you align your cock to his hole.

Air escapes your lungs as Tom's tight hole slides over your cock. Welcoming you with a warm, tight embrace you've missed for so long. You both shudder, shake and quiver in utter bliss. The position allows you to penetrate deep into him. Forcing a whimpering groan of pleasure from Tom. Clenching his jaw as he struggles to stay quiet. Desperate to drown out the sounds. His teeth gritting on the metal of his dog tag. Throwing his head back and tightening his grip on the plywood, he fights to stay in the game.

The first few rolls of your hips are controlled and almost without the sound of flesh on flesh. Careful not to make much of a commotion. Careful not to break the plywood. Careful not to let emotions get the better of you.

But seeing Tom like this. Feeling him. It's all too much too quickly. That short hair. Sharp jawline. Whimpering sounds. The way the muscles in his arms strain and his abs flex and relax. The sway of his muscled chest ebbing to your pounding thrusts. It's a build-up that finds a release faster and faster.

You've been stationed with Tom for months. Both of you leading a squad of your own. Luckily. You couldn't really pinpoint how it started. How the love manifested in the first place. Was it the shared training? That talk on the plane? That firefight? The dinner talks? Somehow you managed to find each other. Talk and enjoy each other's company. Or was it the lack of girls around? Tom assured you it wasn't. Taking every ounce of doubt you had with a kiss you'd never known you wanted.

It didn't make it easier. Because you simply couldn't work together. You only had eyes for one another. Especially in an environment where danger lurks around each and every corner. That dreaded feeling when a squad went out for patrol. For some of them, it might be their last. And Tom thought the same. The grueling long hours of waiting for them to return. Hearing sounds in the distance. It gets to you.

But the happiness of seeing him return. It's unmatched. Bloodied and bruised. It didn't matter. He's alive. You wanted to jump in one's arms. Celebrate life. But you couldn't. A nod had to suffice.

The others didn't know. And you wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't healthy in the least. Some days, you avoided each other like the plague. Differentiate your breaks as much as possible. But once in a while… you needed each other—more than ever.

"You're gonna make me cum..." Tom breathed out. He shook and losing part of his balance. His one arm snapped onto his bouncing cock. Jerking fervently along his length. Grunting and gasping for air. His dog tag sliding back on the chain. You feel him tighten around you—all in a matter of seconds. Tom shuddered in your hold as you try to keep him balanced. Angling his hardened cock onto his stomach as he felt the wave surge.

Cum is hard to clean. It's sticky and leaves a weird residue on most surfaces. Tom knew, when aroused, he could shoot quite the load. Even more so when it's been weeks. Shooting in arches even artillery specialists could learn from. One final rub of his fingers on his cockhead and his balls did the rest. You hold him. Keep him steady. With your cock sheathed deep into him. You watch him shoot his load. Splattering his abs with unfathomed speeds and intervals. Covering his abs and curves in bursts of cum.

"C'mere… baby." He commandeered with a shaken voice. Tom feeling your climax and understanding the need of you pulling out of him. You simply couldn't finish inside of him. But that was easier said than done.

Tom, still recovering from his climax, trembles shaking his frame and muscles weakened by the ecstasy. He helps you pull out, feeling the urgency of helping you with your climax. Your knees already weak, and your hands shaking. You push Tom down as soon as he has his feet to the floor. Forcing him down the plywood plank, ass on the floor. You manage to take a small step forward, one hand of your cock. The other reaching for plywood, holding on for support. Salvation at hand. You try to aim, but thankfully Tom helps.

Warm, wet lips envelop your pulsing length. Tom takes no chances to let you spill any on the floor or on walls. Helping you climax with the help of his mouth and an unexpected finger up your ass. In reflex, you arch forward to the towel in range of you. And clench your teeth down hard on the towel. Desperate to drown out your groan of pleasure. Your knees begin to buckle, and you hear Tom struggle. Gurgling as you length pushed further into the back of his mouth. Almost down his throat. Tom had worked a finger between your asscheeks and pushed deep into your hole. Drilling at your insides. Making you close to spasming out of pure bliss. Forcing you to shoot your load down his throat.

Your vision is hazy and so in your mind. You're barely able to breathe. And nor could Tom. Holding on for dear life on the plywood wall. But you manage to regain your footing. Pulling your length from his throat. A rough cough and wheeze followed, suppressed by him shielding his mouth with his arm. Making sure to wipe away any saliva and more.

Tom sits there on the floor, the water from the shower falling in between his legs. You watch him as you catch your breath. Leaning with both arms crossed on that half wall of plywood. Tom coughing the last bit of wetness from his throat. You comb your fingers through his short hairs. A bit roughly. But he likes it that way. Letting his head follow with the force of your hand. Hanging back against the wall. Seeing his muscled chest rise and fall. A smile out of thousands. It's precious. Eyes that make you flutter. "Almost a minute." You wink. "That was really quick."

"It's been too long." He smirks. With no time to waste, you hunch down in front of him and pull him into the waterfall of the shower. Letting your lips reunite as the warm water washes away the sweat from your exhausted bodies. Giggles go back and forth in relative quiet, giving him a helping hand with cleaning the cum from his stomach and abs.

Something as simple as that, yet loaded with sexual tension in that moment. Simple strokes of your fingers, guided by his hand. Helping him clean. You have to stop yourself from going further. And so does Tom. Seeing your cocks harden within seconds. In the end, it's a necessary clean-up. No evidence. Making sure it does run down the drain. No traces.

Blood on the other hand became a normality. The sight of it doesn't scare you anymore. Seeing trials of thinned-down blood collect in the drain. "Don't worry…" Tom assures you as you observe the whirls of water mixing together before disappearing into the drain. "Old wounds. See?" Turning his torso to the side and showing you cuts and bruises on his back.

"You got a new one." You murmur, running your finger along the cut. It's long and not that deep. But bleeds slowly.

He looks over his shoulder, following your finger. "That's from just now." He beams. "I'm wearing that one proudly." Kissing you as you let that sink in. Slowly starting to get on his knees, ready to go.

"Promise me-..." The air stocks in your throat. And try to blink away the tears welling in your eyes. "T-Tom…" You whisper with a trembling voice, trying to get his attention again as you both rise to your feet. Knowing the moment is there. Tom not letting one moment go by without his lips praising you. Small kisses peppered across your skin. No pattern. No hickeys. Just adoration and love.

With one hand, he reaches for the back of your head, placing his forehead against yours. "Listen to me, (Y/N)." He says staring deep into your eyes. "You have to stay strong. We're almost done here. Just a little bit more..."

"I know." You sigh. "I know…"

"Please stay safe, darling." He whispers. The words burn into your very soul. His kindness and caring nature. It's impossible to keep the tears from rolling. "I know you can do it." Patting your cheek. "Please do…" Rubbing the first tears from your eyes. "Cause I heard your boys talking about how reckless you've been lately."

"I will…" You nod. And kiss him goodbye. "Now go." Slapping him on the ass. "Go before they start noticing anything." Pushing him out of the cubicle.

"Promise me, (Y/N)." He veered back. "I wanna bring you back in one piece. Alive."

"I promise." And you can't help but smile.

"Good, cause my parents are dying to meet you..." Kissing you back before storming out of your cubicle. Taking his towel and closing his shower. "I've told them all about you." He winks. Leaving you all in awe. And a reprimand for showering too long.

#tom holland x male reader #tom holland x male!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland male reader #tom holland male!reader #male!reader #male reader #male reader imagine #mxm #smut #male reader smut

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

Note

GOD Furious Fu genuinely pissed me off SO MUCH so hopefully you don’t mind me coming over here to ask for some kinda Lukanette fix it for that train wreck??? Like, not even anything super detailed, if you don’t feel like it, maybe just “Marinette caves, gives the Miracle Box to Su-Han, gets spotty memories and Luka (+ Kitty Section and Kagami, maybe) help her out and worry over her.” Maybe Tikki even realizes she screwed up. If not it’s fine but Lukanette makes everything better so I had to ask.

Warning: it’s gonna be a ride.

—————

Luka looked over as his phone started ringing, brows raising at the sight of Marinette's icon popping up on the screen. It'd been rare for her to call him after all the complications that came with them dating, so he was surprised to say the least.

Nevertheless, he rested an arm on his guitar and reached across his bed with his other to pick up the phone, answering the call and moving the device to his ear. "Hey, Marinette."

"Hey, Luka..."

His heart sank at the sound of her voice. It was a whole mix of emotions, but above all else, she sounded tired. He wondered what she'd gone through for her voice to play those sorts of notes.

"Did anything happen?"

"No," she answered almost instantaneously. She paused, then let out a small whine. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so used to lying, but—I guess I don't have to do that anymore."

He stayed silent, allowing her to continue.

"I—" Marinette took an audible breath, then let it out, her voice lowering to a whisper as if she were scared of someone else hearing.

"I'm...I'm Ladybug, Luka."

Luka's first reaction was shock, though he couldn't be sure if it was the identity bomb she dropped or just the fact that she told him at all. Then, once the surprise died down, the idea that Marinette was Ladybug wasn't that surprising in itself. and he couldn't imagine who else it could've been otherwise.

Smart, talented, caring, selfless... it all added up.

But that also made it all the more painful when he realized what it meant. Immediately, all the dates that she'd missed and all the things he'd been concerned about made sense, and it hurt.

That was the secret she couldn't share with him, no matter how badly she might've wanted to.

The last thought in particular was odd to him, and he couldn't help voicing it, "I... thank you for telling me, Marinette, but... why now?"

She took another breath, more unsteady this time, like she were a guitar with something jammed inside the base. "Because—I'm about to forget it, and now I can't stop thinking about everything I might forget; how I want someone to know. You were the first - the only - person I thought of." Then, hesitantly, she asked, "Is that okay?"

Luka swallowed, feeling the whiplash of another dropped bomb right before the kind of casual compliment that made his heart race. "Of...of course it is."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

He tried to keep quiet, but couldn't hold back from questioning, "You said 'forget'..."

"Yeah, because I'm guardian now. There was someone else before and they gave me the ladybug miraculous, but—" She paused, as if considering something, then seemed to shift the conversation. "See, I didn't know anything about being a hero at the start, and... I screwed up." Before Luka could ask or recall the event, she continued, "I let the first ever akuma go, and it let Hawk Moth spread his butterflies everywhere when Ivan got akumatized again. I fixed it, but it was still my mistake that started it."

"Marinette—"

"—and I always tried. I tried my best no matter what I did. I tried to be a good Ladybug, a good student, a good daughter, a good friend... and I tried to get Adrien's attention." She groaned, though the sound seemed muffled, perhaps by her hand. Her voice cracked as she went on, "That's where everything went so wrong, Luka. I knew I had bad luck, but no matter how hard I tried, things would go bad. It was humiliating, and I kept thinking that maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough. My parents had such a happy relationship and I wanted that, but I was just wasting my time. He was barely in my life but he got put into everything I did, and I made so many mistakes from him. There's a liar in school who wants to turn everyone against me, and Alya thinks I'm just jealous because of Adrien. Chloe convinced me to do things I'm not proud of, and it took a while for me to be Kagami's friend. I didn't listen to my kwami and used my miraculous for my own gain, and..."

"What's wrong with that?" he questioned, voice pained. "What's wrong with using your miraculous for you? You save Paris every other day—"

"—because bad things happen, Luka," she stressed as if it were something urgent. "Bad things happen when I... feel."

There was a pit in his stomach. He knew he shouldn't ask - knew he wouldn't like the answer - but he hoped for better regardless. "Feel... what?"

"Anything."

He hunched forward, not strumming his guitar but running his fingers along the strings, desperate for something to busy himself with. His shoulders were stiff and his chest felt tight, unable to fathom what she'd been going through compared to what he'd merely seen on the surface.

"No matter what I did, no matter what I felt... it was wrong, Luka. I embarrassed Chloe in front of the whole class and she wanted to move to New York. She'd bullied me for years and I was so happy." She sounded conflicted, like instruments that didn't go together. "Adrien told me it was terrible. He didn't know why I could celebrate it. I felt awful, so I gave her a chance; I gave her a miraculous."

Luka anxiously rubbed one of the strings between his thumb and index finger, torn between seething and trying to reassure her despite knowing that she'd cut him off.

"She got it in her head that she deserved it, but with Mayura around, it wasn't safe to let her keep having it. I had to tell her 'no,' and..." She let out a defeated noise. "Do you remember that day? At the park?"

She didn't need to specify, and his voice lost all life at the memory. "Yeah..."

"Adrien and Kagami were together. I let them go. They seemed so happy together and it was the right thing to do, but..."

She paused, and he braced himself.

"When I was going to see the guardian to get a miraculous, I saw them. I got distracted and I forgot to de-transform. Because of me, Hawk Moth found the guardian, and he got the miraculouses from him. By the time I realized what happened, it was too late, and Chloe got akumatized again to ruin me. Those bees you saw—they were hers. They mind-controlled everyone, and that's why your identities were compromised. The guardian had to give up the box with all the miraculouses in it to me - ladybug me - because Hawk Moth was probably about to kill him and become the next guardian." She let out a sob. "Giving up the box... it takes your memory with it."

Luka gripped the string he'd been rubbing.

"I don't know how much he lost, but... anything about the miraculouses was gone. He didn't recognize me. He didn't even recognize the love of his life. He had... feelings, but that was it. All because of me."

"Marinette—" he desperately tried to interject.

She cut him off, as he'd feared, "I'm just fixing my own mistakes. People think I'm a good Ladybug because they don't get that. They don't get that I'm just going in circles. My friends don't believe in me, my parents think I'm too clumsy to carry a tray, and... it always feels like someone - somewhere - is laughing at me, with every screw-up." She whimpered. "What good is a ladybug who gets people akumatized? Who gets her own boyfriend akumatized?"

"I don't blame you for that!" he shouted, intentionally raising his voice to talk over her.

He heard a small noise in response, though he couldn't tell if it was another whimper or a giggle.

"I'm sorry," she said, though what she was apologizing for seemed vague, "and thank you, for always being there for me. I'm glad I have time to talk to you before he gets back."

Luka had to calm himself down to ask worriedly, "He...?"

"The guardian; the one that came before the one I knew. He showed up in my room today and saw how I had all the kwami outside of the box; I guess you're not supposed to do that, and he wasn't happy. He told me about all these rules I broke and how I had to give everything back. I took him to meet Chat Noir, but Chat ran for it when he realized that I'd forget about him. The guardian is chasing him down now and I'm just here, with the box, waiting for him to get back."

Luka leaned back and stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed by the rush of information she'd thrown at him all at once. He hadn't even been the one to experience any of it and he still felt worn down as if he had.

"I—" He paused, not liking how his voice shook. "I wish I could've helped you, Marinette. I wish you hadn't had to do all of that alone. I know you feel like it's your fault, but even the best musicians miss notes and mess up. Please don't blame yourself."

She let out a non-committal noise and he knew then that nothing he said would help her. He was sure that she believed him, but words could only do so much, and unlearning what apparent months of suffering had taught her would be difficult.

Though, he supposed it wouldn't matter. "Will you forget... everything?"

"I don't know, but at least everything about Ladybug or the miraculouses will go." She let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I guess it was all for nothing in the end."

"It wasn't," Luka replied. "Marinette, no matter how many times you feel like you screwed up, you were still an amazing ladybug. Everything you said didn't change my mind about that." After a moment of thought, he added, "And that other guardian... how is he?"

He heard her take a breath, as if to give an automatic answer, but she stopped herself. "...He's away from Paris, living with the love of his life."

"See? That sounds better than being the guardian, in Paris, where Hawk Moth is," he pointed out. "Maybe he forgot more than he would've wanted, but—"

"Luka," she interrupted, as if something had just occurred to her.

He considered finishing what he was saying, but stopped himself in favor of wanting to hear her out. "Yeah?"

"A-ah... mm." She struggled briefly while trying to get the words out. "If—if I forget too much... if I forget you... would you still visit me?"

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about the possibility, but it hadn't been on the forefront of his mind either, mostly for the sake of keeping himself grounded.

After having an internal debate with himself, he settled for asking, "Would you want me to?"

"Don't say it like that," she pleaded. "Don't leave it all up to me. I...I'd understand if you decide you don't want to see me again. I wouldn't blame you, I just—" Her voice lowered to something both shy and fond. "—I'm my best self when I'm with you, Luka. We didn't date for that long, and maybe it would've been better for you if we never met, but I..."

The pause she made had him holding his breath, his grip on the phone tightening. He couldn't believe she would dare to imply that he wouldn't do it all over again; meeting her, writing songs about her, dating her...

Marinette let out a breath, and Luka noted that it sounded so... final, like this was really the end.

"I love you, Luka."

His heart hammered in his chest. "Marinette."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," she whispered. After going quiet for a few seconds, her tone suddenly shifted as she said, "I have to go now. He's on his way."

Luka took a sharp intake of breath, but the click of the call came before he could speak. He could only stare down at the phone, Marinette's contact image staring back as an emptiness washed over him.

Then, he was on his feet, guitar tossed aside, and he'd never moved so fast before in his life.

—————

Marinette gazed at Luka's picture for a few more seconds, as if doing so would permanently imprint it into her memory, then sighed and tossed it onto her chaise lounge. She rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tiredness and unshed tears, unable to help wondering if Fu falling unconscious after his memory loss was something peaceful for him.

When she uncovered her eyes, she noticed the kwami, all distancing themselves from her but staring at her like she was a corpse in a coffin.

"What...?" she asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

They all exchanged glances, like they were debating telepathically, then Wayzz flew forward.

"I - we - we're so sorry, Marinette," he said. Bowing in respect, he added, "We got so excited, and we only caused you more problems."

Marinette shrugged, only able to offer a defeated smile. "There's nothing we can do now. It's too late to change anything."

Tikki approached, her body hunched over and making her look even smaller than she already was. "I-I should've said something. I let him talk to you like that and I didn't do anything to stop him."

Marinette reached over, tempted to pet or touch her kwami in some way to help reassure her, but pulled back at the last moment, too conflicted about it.

The sound of something landing on the balcony followed, and Marinette stared up at it like she could see through her ceiling.

"...He's here," she stated. After giving one last look at all of her kwami, she focused specifically on Tikki and said, "Spots on."

Su-Han descended into her room, Ladybug standing in the center and wanting nothing more but to get things over with. He approached her, raising his fist and then opening it to show her the ring inside; Chat Noir's ring. Plagg, meanwhile, hovered aimlessly around the room, not meeting anyone's eyes and probably sensing the tension.

"That crybaby was even more of a fool than I'd thought," Su-Han commented, "giving a miraculous to a boy whose face is all over this village."

"What?" Ladybug blurted out. A boy whose face was all over—but that meant—"Adrien?"

Su-Han raised a brow. "A friend of yours?" He promptly scoffed. "That makes him even more foolish."

She couldn't even find it in herself to respond, too busy grappling with so casually being told something she'd intended to never learn about if she could help it.

Adrien was Chat Noir? It explained a little bit of everything and made her feel a lot of everything at the same time, like the two personalities meshed together to create something both shocking yet profoundly upsetting. She saw her memories with Adrien in place of Chat Noir and vice versa, unable to separate the two and pursing her lips as she recognized that, perhaps if things had been a little different...

"Young lady," Su-Han called strictly, pulling her out of her trance. "I don't have time to waste here. Relinquish the Miracle Box to me, at once."

"A-ah..." Ladybug could only nod, still dazed but at least focused enough to respond. She stared down at her hands, staring at the red and single black spot on the back of each, then sighed and closed her eyes, accepting that it was the last time she'd see them.

"I, Ladybug, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box..."

The last feeling she'd remember as Ladybug was a deep, unrelenting regret; regret for all the things she did do, didn't do, and the things that weren't even in her control.

Then, as her mind was fogging and she was slipping into darkness, she felt something else.

She felt free.

—————

Luka didn't bother saying a word to Tom or Sabine when he charged inside the bakery, both of them letting out various shouts of concern as he bolted past them and ran up the stairs. He nearly tripped multiple times, but he never stopped moving. He dashed up each flight until his eyes locked on the door to Marinette's living room.

He opened the door in a hurry, ignoring the sound of it slamming against the wall, and headed right for the stairs to Marinette's room. He threw caution to the wind and pushed open the trap door in the same fashion, his eyes scanning the place in a panic.

Then, his gaze fell upon Marinette, lying there on the floor, earrings gone, and he realized that he was too late. If he were honest, he hadn't known exactly what he'd rushed there to do - try and prevent the memory loss? tell her how wrong she'd been during their call? call out the guardian for treating his beloved so cruelly? - but now that he was there, all he could think about was being there for her.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then approached and knelt down next to her. Slipping his arms underneath her, he lifted her up and brought her over to her chaise lounge, wanting to at least get her off the floor. Her phone had been resting on the chaise’s cushion, but he simply moved it to the table after setting her down.

He paced around the room, raking his fingers through his hair and ruffling it. His mind was still racing, as was his heart, and his running had nothing to do with either. He knew that, whether Marinette had her memory or not, she was the song in his head, and any pain that would come with her not knowing him couldn't compare to the pain of not seeing her again. She wasn't a burden, and no matter how many excuses he might have to come up with, he wasn't going to let her be alone, especially not when she trusted him with a secret that she'd only let him hear.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the slight shuffling noise, though the sound of Marinette stirring was what made him fully turn around to look at her. While she laid there, her eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, darting aimlessly around the room as if in search of something.

"Marinette," he whispered, rushing over to her. Bending over the chaise lounge, barely thinking, he asked gently, "Are you okay?"

"Mm..." Her eyes found his, and she blinked a few times before she actually seemed awake enough to answer him. "Luka?"

His breath, his words, his very sound, all caught in his throat. If he were a guitar, his strings would've snapped from the sudden release of tension.

"Y-you... know who I am?" he asked in a small voice.

She tilted her head at him, confused by the question. "Of course I do? You're my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. She said boyfriend. She didn't just remember him, she remembered her feelings for him.

He got misty-eyed from the realization, and Marinette's eyes widened in alarm.

"L-luka?" she called, brows furrowed with concern. She reached up with a hand, sliding it along his cheek. "What's wrong—what happened? I swear I'm okay, I—"

He shook his head, gently holding onto her wrist and feeling the steady rhythm of her pulse to ground himself. "Nothing, Marinette. Nothing happened. You—you just had a bad fall."

"O-oh. I...I'm sorry." She pushed herself up with her free hand. "I'm so clumsy. I didn't mean to worry—"

He couldn't wait any longer. He hugged her, squeezing her with every ounce of love that'd been accumulating since they'd originally broken up. Marinette didn't seem to understand the intensity of his actions, but didn't hesitate to hug him back either, even humming with content and burying her face into his shoulder.

Her song sang freely to him. It wasn't torn or twisted up, playing openly instead of staying locked in a music box. He couldn't have been happier after she'd given him such a scare before, and any remaining questions could come later.

For that moment, he just let their duet play free-er than it'd ever been able to before.

—————

"Luka~" Marinette called from the kitchen. When he looked over to her, she raised two different bottles of iced tea, waving them a bit for emphasis. "Which one do you want?"

He hummed, then pointed to the one in her left hand. She nodded at the decision, then put the other bottle back in the fridge, retrieving a bottled drink of her own before leaving the kitchen to join him on the couch.

The last few weeks had been a bit of a rollercoaster, but not necessarily in a bad way. He'd had to deal with Marinette's memory loss and simultaneously piece together how exactly it'd all worked out, but all in all, it was good for her.

Most of Marinette's memories outside of being Ladybug were in tact, and Luka had realized soon after she'd woken up from her memory loss that the reason she’d forgotten about their break up was exactly because it'd been related to her being Ladybug. He'd tried vaguely to explain it to her as if he hadn't known that she was Ladybug, wondering if those negative feelings still lingered, but they both still wanted to date each other and thus concluded that not dating after all that would've been silly. He knew full well that she wasn't going to be stressed or strapped for time anymore, so it wasn't a subject worth debating over, especially if it meant that they could move back into dating without issue.

She'd initially cried when he assured her that he was happy to continue dating her. She couldn’t comprehend why and he'd merely hugged her in reassurance, imagining that he was also hugging the Marinette of the past who didn't believe he'd want to date her again.

Outside of that, there were additional gaps in Marinette's memory that she couldn't explain, and Luka was certain that they were either Ladybug or guardian-related. Her parents had been particularly concerned by the losses, but Luka noted to himself that the lost memories were for the best. It was as if all of the memories that had caused her stress had evaporated, leaving only good ones behind.

Adrien was the big one, as she hadn't been able to remember him at all. At best, she was uncomfortable around him, and Luka did her the favor of removing any pictures of the guy from her cork board and phone. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he put together that Adrien was Chat Noir, things fell into place. Marinette had explained during their phone call that the previous guardian had lost his memory of the love of his life, but Luka imagined that she might've been his confidant for so long that thinking of her as anything else was impossible. Factor in that Marinette had also explained that her crush on Adrien had seeped into her being Ladybug, and it all added up; so long as the connection between the person and the miraculouses was unavoidable, they were forgotten.

And Marinette seemed all the happier for it. To some degree, it was tragic that Paris didn't have Ladybug anymore, but as far as Luka was concerned, Marinette needed to be rid of Ladybug more than Paris needed her, and Marinette's health took priority over all else.

The new ladybug holder was no replacement from the original, but Luka had expected that. Despite them being an adult and having access to as many lucky charms as they desired, no one could substitute Ladybug's instinct and ability to think on her feet.

But that wasn't Luka's problem, and he wholly intended to make sure that it wasn't Marinette's either. She'd heard that there was a previous ladybug, but had no interest in anything relating to the heroes nor their miraculouses. The most she'd said about them was one time where she'd idly commented that her homeroom and PE teachers had been "busier than she remembered," though she'd brushed it off as being related to her mild memory loss.

He'd giggled at that. He had been prepared to have to fall in love with a slightly different Marinette, but she honestly hadn't changed much; still caring, still generous, and still the adorable mess that he loved so much. She could afford to work on her confidence, sure, but he didn't fall for her due to what Ladybug had given her.

"Luka?"

He blinked, then looked down to her; her and her bright, happy eyes, the darkness underneath having faded long ago. She smiled at him, oblivious to his thoughts and a brow raised in amusement.

"Were you daydreaming?" she asked curiously, her hand covering his and giving it a casual squeeze.

Luka still couldn't quite believe that he was hers and she was his. He recalled Desperada, that fateful day where she - Ladybug at the time - had given him the snake miraculous, presumably after she'd tried to give it to Adrien. He wouldn't have admitted it at the time, but there was a pride in being able to do something that Adrien couldn't. He'd never forgotten her words either, knowing now that they were Marinette's.

"You were the right choice, Luka."

He sighed blissfully, bending down to press his forehead against hers and replying, "I'm just happy."

She let out a small whine at the sudden and sweet gesture, but still pressed back in return. "Me too."

They stayed in that moment until a sudden thumping noise brought them out of it, Luka jerking his head up to stare at where it'd come from: Marinette's room. Immediately recognizing what was happening, he groaned and rubbed his face in irritation.

As expected, the man Luka had come to know as Su-Han emerged, descending the stairs and locking eyes with Marinette. She recoiled, her hands clutching Luka's sleeve as she murmured, "Not you again..."

Luka gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then got up from the couch and walked around to face Su-Han himself.

The man huffed. "I'm not here for—"

"Marinette wants nothing to do with you," Luka said lowly. He went for the living room door, opening it and gesturing outside. Su-Han followed with an air of self-importance and Luka closed the door behind them, leaving Marinette safely out of the conversation.

"The former ladybug had not even informed me of what she'd done," Su-Han explained. "Therefore, it's time she take responsibility and—"

Luka snapped, "You don't get to blame anything on Marinette. She did everything you asked her to and you made her give up her memories." He purposefully left out the fact that she was better off without said memories. "You're the one who insulted her song before you even got to hear it."

Su-Han squinted, the phrase clearly going over his head. "...What?"

At that point, the sound of footsteps came from downstairs, Luka glancing past the railing to see Tom coming up, perhaps having heard the voices even if he didn't hear any specific words.

The moment he saw Su-Han, Tom glared.

"Honey! That man bothering our daughter is back!" he shouted.

More footsteps followed, this time from Sabine and simultaneously much faster than Tom’s. Su-Han clearly caught on that this would be a repeat of "last time" (one of Luka's fonder memories of seeing the man be dealt with) and quickly fled back into the other room to return to Marinette's balcony and escape.

Once Luka had confirmed that everything was okay, he returned to the couch to sit at Marinette's side again. She tilted her head at him, but didn't ask any questions, Su-Han having become something on a "frequent but harmless weirdo" who she didn't understand.

Luka held an arm out invitingly, then wrapped it around Marinette when she snuggled against him. He used his free hand to open the bottle of iced tea - finding it difficult but also not worth leaving their cuddle to allow for both hands - then tipped the drink to his mouth to take a sip.

"Hey, Luka?" Marinette called, slightly shy in her delivery.

Luka met her gaze, setting the drink back on the table so he could give her his full attention. "Hm?"

"Could we... go on a date tomorrow?" she asked, one of her hands idly fiddling with the fabric of his pant leg. "I was thinking we could go buy a movie to watch? The one with Jagged Stone?"

He didn't know if the request had anything to do with the failed date that she may or may not recall anymore, but regardless, he was grinning like a fool. He pulled her closer, his free hand falling upon one of hers as he nuzzled her. "I'd love that."

He silently looked forward to the day where all the new memories he made with her outmatched the time lost from her old ones.

#type: story #story: oneshot #Flower Arrangement Shipping #episode: Furious Fu #((I'm going off of the vague information we have to guess that she broke up with him in episode 1 because of her responsibilities.))#other: ml spoilers #((It's gonna hurt a lot but I swear it's a happy ending.))#((Also I agree that Lukanette does indeed make everything better.))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years

Note

I'm gonna go on a limb here and say something I've been thinking about. So, I watched cql before reading the novel, and when I first read mdzs I have to say I was a bit thrown off by the Phoenix Mountain kiss, so of course my first instinct was to come to this hellsite and try to find what other people thought of it. The more I looked into it, the more I was convinced that the reason so many people hate it so irrationally and why it is apparently so hard for some to analyse any possible meaning beyond the obvious things in that scene, is because people that were introduced to mdzs via cql often go into the novel trying to get some sort of "fandom experience".

What I mean is that people will read mxtx's work and expect to get the same gratification they get whenever they find a good fic. Something tailored to their taste and characters built upon the preconceived ideas (often fanon) they have of each of them. It's a problem I've noticed a lot with queer media reception by people who are active in fandom. It's one of the things I am critical of and why I am so adamant to join fandom discussions, because I feel like many fandoms have created spaces where the queer characters are made to be these perfect examples of representation, so whenever queer characters are allowed to be flawed and make bad decisions people often jump on the bandwagon of calling it problematic and homophobic, instead of putting some effort into reading further than what is in plain sight and being critical of the possible meaning behind the character's actions.

Sorry for the long ask, but I wanted to get this out of my system. Tried my best, but English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if anything is weird or hard to understand.

Hi anon,

I think you are definitely unto something when you say: “people will read mxtx's work and expect to get the same gratification they get whenever they find a good fic. Something tailored to their taste and characters built upon the preconceived ideas (often fanon) they have of each of them.” It certainly would explain why so many people, even while aware that the series is an adaptation of the book, say stuff like “novel!LWJ is OOC”. They might have approached the novel as just the “fanfic” of CQL that includes “canon Wangxian”, without considering how much had been potentially changed through the process of adapting MDZS and making it palatable according to censorship.

I agree with you that the current state of fandom, where fic writers seem focused on avoiding being Problématique at all cost, has not only stiffled creativity but created in certain fans unreasonable expectations towards other works. Fandom, as a creative context, is generally focused on (self-)indulgence, on feel-goodness, and is largely pretty dry in terms of themes. But to expect all creatives to have the same “goal” or approach when it comes to art is simply ridiculous. For some people, art is a safe means through which to explore difficult, violent or outlandish set-ups. Art can be used to make people feel uncomfortable, unsettled just as it can be used to make people feel uplifted and moved. Art can be focused on exploring nuanced and controversial topics. Art can be used to portray irredeemable assholes, losers or monsters. Art can be depressing and deny us any feelings of satisfaction. Art can do so many things! And, yes, sometimes creativity is mobilised in the service of writing the nth wholesome gay coffee store AU for a popular anglo property: but that’s neither the norm nor the rule.

I think as well in terms of queer representation that we lose a lot when we try to argue that the only way to “fight” homophobia is to present queer characters and queer relationships that are Unproblématique and fit a constantly-shifting standard of what is “not-homophobic”. Take the current obsession with the idea that all gay men must be vers or otherwise be a homophobic stereotype: putting aside all that needs to be unpacked in that belief, imagine a world where it’s the accepted idea everywhere that you can’t write about gay men lest they be vers. How many queer experiences would we be erasing in the process? Or, again, this weird idea that it’s “bad” to write in fem queer men because that’s a stereotype, when the real issue is just that fem queer men have generally only been written as one-dimensional characters present in the narrative for comedic purposes or stereotypes, and not as fully-fledged humans with complex internal lives and relationships. As a Problématique Gay, I hate the idea that only perfect queer narratives can exist. Nah, people, queer existence is complex, and queer people are not perfect (although we’re cooler than the str8s). It’s just.... believe me, the continued existence of homophobia is not determined by whether characters in books have the “correct-according-to-you” kind of sex or whatever.

NB: I have to say, as well, that the first time I came across the Phoenix Mountain kiss, I thought (in bad faith) that it had been added just as a sort of unfortunate fan service since the novel was published chapter by chapter. But when I finished the book and thought back on it, the inclusion of the Phoenix Mountain kiss made sense, narratively and thematically. It also forced me to recognise that, even if I had read MDZS before I ever watched CQL, I had started reading MDZS with my own preconceptions (which were certainly not helped by the framing of the translation) : that it would be a middling danmei full of the same tired tropes. I was glad to be proven wrong!

#anon ask #fandom discussions

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

Sharing

Billy Loomis x Plus size!reader and Stu Macher x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1780 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Billy and Stu fighting over you

——————————————————————————————————

The two of them couldn't have been more different.

As a general rule, Billy and Stu had hardly anything in common but that didn’t change the fact that there had never been two closer best friends. They did everything together, and shared quite a bit.

Though, it wasn’t until you that they realized just how far that went.

You sat beside Stu in algebra, and had gone to school with both Stu and Billy for as long as you could remember. However, you had never really spent much time with them until you agreed to start helping the former with his homework.

At first, it wasn’t much of a problem for anyone but the more Stu informed his friend that he couldn’t hang out because he was supposed to see you again, the more Billy grew resentful.

The problem was that he wasn’t sure who he was more jealous of, you or Stu.

On one hand, his best friend in the entire world was getting to spend all his time with you, but you were also getting to spend a fair amount of your own time with him.

From where Billy was sitting, the biggest problem was that he wasn’t involved in any step of that process. So, he decided to fix the problem himself.

...And that was how you ended up between them in the first place.

You had showed up to the Macher family home after school like you always did on Tuesday evenings with your school bag in hand. However, when the front door opened, the blonde you’d grown used to seeing wasn’t standing there.

Instead, it was Billy.

You were shocked, understandably so, especially seeing as you didn't know he would be here but it wasn’t all bad. You didn’t know Billy all that well but Stu talked about him all the time.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be meeting Stu. Is he here?” you asked, shifting your weight between your two feet as you stood there, under the male’s focused gaze.

You had never realized it before, but Billy was incredibly intimidating, almost as much as he was handsome and you weren’t dealing with the uninterrupted eye contact.

It was clear that he had something on his mind, something he wanted to say but he chose to ignore it for now. There would be more than enough time to talk about what was on his mind.

Instead, he nodded. “He’s in the kitchen, follow me” he suggested, though there was a demanding tone in his voice. You didn’t even bother to tell him you’d been in the house before.

All you could do was hold your school bag close to your frame as you entered the house.

It was empty, like it normally was, as Stu’s parents usually weren't home. They were gone a lot on business trips, they were lawyers you thought, but you couldn’t remember.

Of all the things you and Stu talked about during your study sessions, his parents weren’t really on the roster.

“She’s here!” Billy called, glancing over his shoulder to look at you, a small smirk on his lips as he addressed his best friend. You didn’t really know why Billy was here, but they weren’t going to keep you in suspense for much longer.

See, Billy had a plan.

In general, the two of them were never apart. Everywhere Billy went, Stu followed. Knowing that, it was easy to assume that he would be jealous of the amount of the blonde’s time you were taking up.

However, Billy had made a different call. Being jealous of you wasn’t going to do much except drive you away and while that would have been okay, it wasn’t ideal.

If he went about it the right way, there was a chance he’d get to keep you both.

It wasn’t a done deal, but if the past was any indication, Billy was pretty good at getting what he wanted. After all, it wasn’t exactly easy to tell him no.

“Hey! You made it” Stu greeted, wrapping you up in a small hug right after he handed the other male an unopened beer. You had no idea what you were walking into, but you just nodded, accepting the hug.

It wasn’t like you felt unsafe here, just uneasy.

You didn’t have much experience with Billy at all, but if nothing else, you were sure that Stu wouldn’t let anything sketchy go down. At least, you hoped he wouldn’t.

“Yeah, I’m still not super sure on that last turn” you shrugged, decidedly throwing yourself into smalltalk instead of making direct eye contact with either of them.

Had you looked up, you would have had to come to terms with the predatory gaze in Billy’s eyes as he looked you over. You had placed yourself closer to Stu over by the sink, which wasn’t surprising.

It was no secret that you were more comfortable with him, but Billy was interested in you too and he had an idea.

“So, what are you two going to work on tonight?” he hummed, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he looked between you, though you could still see how tight his jaw was while he waited for an answer.

Math.

That should have been the answer, but for some reason with Billy staring deep into your eyes, and Stu standing so close, your lips couldn’t form the words.

It was strange.

You had never felt this was before, but there was just something about the two of them. Billy was magnetic, and Stu seemed to feed off of his energy which brought a new side out of him that you’d never seen.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you just couldn’t look away from Billy’s sterling gaze. Instead, you tried to clear your throat, taking a sip of the glass of water Stu had gotten you when you informed him you didn’t want to drink.

After all, you had come here to do a job but it seemed like there was no job to be done here tonight.

“Y/N? You alright?” Stu hummed, watching the way your eyes kept tabs on Billy out of the corner of your eye. You were clearly feeling something, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

The blonde was a bit worried at first, mostly because he didn’t know how Billy would react. He knew that the other male could be protective, so he’d either get violent with you, or leave in a huff.

From where he was, it could go either way.

However, when Stu looked at Billy for some kind of clue as to what he was thinking, he only winked. “Yeah Y/N, you feeling okay?” he grinned, setting his beer down on the island.

You hardly had a second to think before he was standing in front of you, with hardly any space between your two bodies. Without even meaning to, you practically gasped.

You couldn’t help yourself.

No matter what you thought you were feeling, or where Stu thought this might go at first, there was no misreading what he had in mind. You didn’t get hit on a ton, but you weren’t blind.

It would have been impossible to misunderstand his intentions.

“I’m okay, I think” you tried, doing your best to maintain your composure, even though the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

In fact, if you hadn’t been standing here yourself, there was no way you could be sure that it was really happening.

That response was more than Billy had been expecting, but nonetheless, it did serve to amuse him. You were hilarious, in the most innocent of ways.

“We don’t scare you, do we Y/N?” He wondered, gingerly letting his fingers gloss over the skin of your jaw.

There was something so predatory and strange about the way he addressed you, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. If nothing else, it just made you think about him in a way that you never had.

“No, of course not” you allowed, they didn’t. However, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable under his burning gaze, so you instead chose to look at Stu over your shoulder.

Even with his own grin, the blonde could never be as intimidating as Billy was.

“Good, because we had a bit of a chat before you got here” Billy started, leaning back against the counter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Evidently, they had been talking about you quite a bit before you got there, but you had no inkling of that until he spoke again. “See, Stu here’s got quite the crush on you” he smiled, gesturing to the other male at his side.

You had no idea where this was going before but at least there was a bit of context now. Though, you couldn’t say you were any less confused than you’d been before.

The words he’d stated weren’t exactly surprising to you, as you’d gathered that much in all the time you’d been spending time together. However, that didn’t stop you from looking at him as well.

It just seemed like the only thing to do right now, and it was still better than having to look Billy in the eye.

“Now, I had to decide what to do about that, and I think we’ve come up with a solution” he allowed, smirking at you as he spoke. He could practically see the wheels turning in your head.

It hadn’t clicked yet.

“A solution?” You repeated, trying to keep up. However, before you could get an answer from the male, Stu stepped in to answer you instead.

“Billy thinks we should share” he grinned, unsure of how this would go down. When Billy first brought it up, he was sure that you’d say no but seeing you now, he wasn’t sure.

It would be ideal.

If you were in a mutual relationship, Billy would have no reason to get so jealous over you, and he could be honest about how he felt for you to begin with.

Really, Stu couldn’t have come up with a better solution for the problem they’d been having.

“Share?” you repeated again. You were pretty sure that you knew where this was going but you just needed to have them clarify it for you. This wasn’t something you thought you’d be doing today, but it could work.

You liked Stu and you were well aware of the connection the two males shared. What they were proposing could work.

“Yeah, what do you say gorgeous?” Stu grinned, his goofy charm bringing a smile to your face.

How could you say no to that?

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Stories We Tell Ourselves (One-Shot)

Author's Note: So, this was an ask sent to me by my darling wife, @lucrezia-thoughts a while back, that I for some reason never actually added to my collection of works. Which seemed like a shame, since I'm kinda proud of it (it was my very first ask), so I thought I'd re-post it and give it a proper spotlight. Description: Mando's injured and Grogu's bored, so fem!reader tells him a bedtime story.

Rating: Everyone (all fluff all the way on this one, though blood is mentioned) Word Count: 1872

It had been one of those days when one thing had just bled into another, and everything had gone wrong. It was a miracle all three of you had survived, but the Mandalorian had been injured, trying to protect you from a very unpleasant trader, who had knives concealed everywhere in his clothing. Mando had been cut along his side, and while the injury would heal on its own, it had bled a lot before you’d been able to get back to the Crest and properly dress it. He’d insisted on getting the ship off the planets surface before he’d allowed you to help him, and as a result, there was blood everywhere. He hadn’t actually hired you, he had just sort of… realised that the kid liked you and decided that if you were brave enough to stick with them despite the danger of their situation, without even asking for payment, then he wouldn’t stop you.

You weren’t sure if he actually liked you. It was hard to tell with him, even after months of being couped up with the man. You could quite easily read him around others, as you’d become familiar with his body language and mannerisms, so you knew how he should behave if he liked you. But for some reason, he behaved differently with you. His body language was always much more still and maybe even careful, around you, as though he was afraid you’d break if he accidentally bumped into you. It was more than a little annoying, sometimes, since it made it difficult to define what your relationship actually was. But it was mostly just annoying because you wanted him to bump into you. He was a mystery, but that wasn’t what drew you to him. He was kind and respectful, quiet but strong, in both body and conviction. He wasn’t too proud or too self-assured, but he was loyal and protective and gentle. It was quite amazing to you that he was so proficient at using those hands for violence, when he was also so tender with the baby. It had brought tears to your eyes on more than one occasion.

When you’d finally cleaned the last remnants of blood from the controls in the cock-pit, you headed back down to check on Mando. But your eyes fell on the empty pram sitting on the floor of the cargo-bay.

“Oh, no. Kid… where’d you go?”

You searched quietly, not wanting to wake Mando after you’d finally gotten him to lay down in his bunk to rest, before going to scrub the blood away. But then you heard a muffled giggle, and of course it came from the damned bunk. You’d left the door open so that you could easily hear it if he stirred or seemed to worsen in any way.

“No, no, no… Come on, get out of there, let the man rest.”

You reached in and snatched the kid off of Mando’s chest and then stood there for a minute, rocking him quietly against your hip, while you listened for any sign that your… companion… had woken up. You eventually sighed and sat down on a crate, directly behind the bunk, cradling the kid in your arms.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, you know.”

He just cooed and looked at you with bright eyes.

“Okay. How about a bedtime story?”

He just blinked and angled his head a bit more towards you.

“Hm, let’s see. When I was young, my mother would tell me stories about love to get me to sleep. She said that a child that feels loved, will always have the comfort to sleep soundly. So, this story begins with a King. A good, and kind man who rules his land with open arms and a warm heart, but also protects it with ferocity and conviction. Because that land holds everything that he loves, and without it – he’d be broken. One day, when the King is travelling, he finds an orphan outside of his dominion, and being the good man that he is, he brings the child home, to raise as his own. He has no idea how to do that, and it’s chaotic most of the time, especially since his duties can’t be put on hold while he cares for a baby. He still has to rule the land. But he loves that baby so much, that no matter how hard it gets, he endures. He doesn’t care that he hasn’t slept in days, or that he’s always terrified that something’s gonna happen to his boy. None of it matters, as long as the child is safe.”

Mando woke up the moment the kid climbed onto his chest. It was reflexive at this point. Even though he knew that you were there, and would care for the boy without his asking, he was already conditioned to react to whatever the little one needed. But he was wounded and tired, and he heard you coming down from the cock-pit, probably having cleaned up his mess – yet again, so he ignored the kid, and made no effort to let you know that he was awake, when you came to pick the child up. He was in some pain, the wound throbbing a little with each beat of his pulse, which made falling back asleep a little harder, even though he was exhausted. And it was surprisingly nice, just listening to you talk quietly to the kid, not knowing he could hear you. It wasn’t surprising that he found it nice; he found everything about you nice. It was surprising that he enjoyed the eavesdropping aspect so much. That he liked the intimacy of listening to you when your guard was down, and you were just being a woman caring for a child. He listened closely to your story, not missing the clear similarities to your actual life and the way you two had met.

“So, when the King has to travel again, he decides to bring his son along, and they go on a long and adventurous journey together. But on their way back, they come across a woman, wounded and in need of help. And because the King is a good man, he brings the woman to his castle, and helps her heal. And while she heals, she repays the King his kindness, by looking after his son while he cares for his kingdom. And as the woman watches her rescuer, and sees the true warmth of his heart as he cares for his land as closely, and tenderly, as he cares for his son, she falls in love with him.”

He nearly stopped breathing as he heard the words. Could you really mean him? The rest of the story was more or less exactly your story, so you had to be talking about him. He had never allowed himself to consider it. To think that you could ever want to be with a man like him, no matter how much he might want you to. He knew that his efforts to restrain himself around you made him seem stiff and perhaps a bit cold, and it always hurt him to see you try so hard to read him, to understand why he was different towards you than his friends. But if you wanted him too… that changed everything.

“But this wonderful man is a King, and she’s just a woman he found on the side of the road. She has no claim to him, and she’s afraid to tell him how she feels, because if he doesn’t feel the same, it’ll break her heart. So, she cares for the child as best she can, and hopes that he won’t make her leave the castle once she’s healed. And he doesn’t. He let’s her stay, and over time, she finds the courage to tell him the truth, and he reveals that he loves her too. And together they raise the child with love and happiness and adventures, and that’s how this little story ends, my sweet.”

The kid was asleep by the time you finished the tale, and you rocked him gently in your arms after you fell silent, to make sure he wouldn’t stir once you got up to put him back in his pram. You tucked him in snugly, and then closed the little egg up, to keep him warm and safe. Once you were done, you raised your hand up to your neck, rubbing idly at the knots and strained muscles, after such a long day of hardships and stress, and you couldn’t stop the exhausted sigh that escaped you. The movement to your side didn’t register in your brain until Mando was already sitting up at the edge of the bunk, and it startled you. You flinched and then your brain woke up again, and you approached him.

“Hey, what’s the matter, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Oh, stars above… the number of ways that he could answer that last question.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“No, no, you’re the one that’s wounded, which means I’m the only one that gets to ask that.”

He considered that for a moment.

“I heard your story, mesh’la.”

You froze, and suddenly your heart was frantic in your chest. He heard… all of that? You’d been so certain he was completely passed out! You hadn’t meant to pour so much truth into the story, but it had happened anyway, and now he knew how you felt. He knew. He saw you begin to panic and reached a gloved hand out to you, which you couldn’t bring yourself to take, but before you could back away from him, he reached for your waist instead, and pulled you in closer, until you were standing between his slightly bent knees as he rested against the bunk. You were flustered and shocked to suddenly be so close to him, and you found yourself having trouble figuring out where to put your hands in the small space between you. He’d never given any indication that he liked it whenever you’d touched him, so you settled for resting your palms on the flat and cool beskar on his chest, with your eyes firmly planted on the diamond shaped indentation at the centre of it.

“It was a very good story. I really liked it.”

Your eyes snapped up to stare at his visor, and you wanted to say a thousand things. But nothing came out. You felt him draw in a shaky breath, before his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer. Then he bent his head forwards, leaning his helmet against your forehead, and your arms found their way around his waist, suddenly needing to hold him to you, now that he’d finally given you his silent permission.

“Would you tell me another story?”

His voice was trembling just a bit. Just enough that you could tell through the modulator.

“Okay. What would you like to hear?”

“Tell me how the story continues, after the King declares his love for the woman? Tell me how they live happily ever after… and I promise I’ll try to make the story come true for you.”

THE END

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian oneshot #mando x fem!reader #the mandalorian x fem!reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #baby grogu #baby yoda #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #sweet fluff

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devildomdoofus · 3 years

Text

Lemon Dreams: Part 1

[NSFW]

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

a bit of spicey lil dreams the brothers have of MC. If requested, I’ll add the undateables (minus Luke) into a Part 3.

Gender-Neutral as always.

MINORS:

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

Be smart, have common sense.

I’m not responsible for your irresponsibility.

You see the warnings. I put them out plainly. Adhere.

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, mature theme, mature content, implied intercourse, nudity, swearing, light bondage, BDSM, tidbit of pet play, wet dreams,

IF I MISSED ANY, PLEASE INFORM ME

Author’s Note (Sorry, I’ll try to be brief):

Trying my hand at some “light” N S F W content to see how I do and see how it goes.

Thank you all, once again, for the love and support and positive responses!! You’re enjoyment is the reason I keep doing what I love to do✨ Please: stay healthy, stay safe, stay you, and stay ruling them all, MCs 💕

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer:

Regrettably, it has been nearly a millennia since he’s had any amount of a decent shuteye due to his brothers’ antics, his oversight of R.A.D., and obligations to Diavolo so you can only imagine the amount of fatigue that he felt in his mind, body, and soul. But because of his image and his own personal desire to be nothing short of perfect, he couldn’t simply rest whenever or wherever he pleased. It was outlandish to even consider the idea. Unfortunately, the side effects of denying himself any form of rest were starting to show. It was causing him to make mistakes he wouldn’t normally make and Diavolo had to personally intervene, using his authority on behalf of his dear friend’s health or lack thereof and demanded that he take a day off. He was the only one in all of the realms that could try and convince this workaholic to put on the breaks. You, yourself, have tried before but Lucifer was as stubborn as the days of summer were long and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall. But because Lucifer could not deny his prince’s demands, he reluctantly obliged... but not without absolute confirmation that nothing would go wrong while he was absent and as soon as he felt rested enough, he would return immediately.

Locking himself away in his room while putting a soundproof spell on the outside of it, he finally sits down at his desk and leans back in his chair as he sluggishly closes his eyes. The silence was both mildly relaxing and extremely uncomfortable as it was so rare for the world around him to be so... quiet. so undisturbed. So peaceful.

It was a bit unnerving.

He sighs deeply. This whole resting thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he originally thought. He stands up to go grab a vinyl record, places it on the antique gramophone and turns the device on. The orchestra makes their way through the metal funnel and the melody of the instruments echo beautifully throughout his room. “Much better,” he hums to himself. He tosses his coat aside, unbuttons his vest and drops it to the floor, removes his button-up shirt, kicks off his shoes, and does away with his belt while his pants follow suit. He dons his nighttime robe and finally slides into his bed. As soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes shut and his mind turns off, allowing him to drift swiftly into a deep slumber.

The dream started out like any other dream he’s had in his life; it’s mundane and not much is going on. It’s practically the same as ‘bringing work home with him’ but in his dreams. He’s at his desk, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s, finalizing some paperwork, and the like, while the stress from his waking hours begins to find its way back to him like a boomerang.

Then, as if by magic, all of his stress melted away as soon as he heard a knock on his door along with your voice calling for him softly on the other side. He smirks. “You may enter.” He kept his head low as you stepped in due to the fact that he was finishing signing a particular paper. “Just a moment,” he instructs, as the last cursive letter finds its place on the paper. He begins to lift his eyes to meet yours. “Now, what can I do for yo-...” He freezes.

There you were, standing before him, in nothing but one of his ties hanging loosely around your neck. His jaw clenches and his fist tighten into a ball so firmly that his knuckles turn white under his gloves.

‘Like a lamb to it’s slaughter,’ he quotes, internally.

Needless to say, the dream takes a more DRASTIC turn and he’s got you bent over the desk, hands tied up with his tie that you so graciously considered to bring with you, and his name pouring out of your lips like a faucet. He’s taking you all for himself, piece by divine piece, with every snap of his hips, bite of your skin, and claw of your flesh. What a sight you were beneath him.

The moment he wakes, his body is covered in a ‘morning’s dew’ of sweat and the sheets of his bed have become painfully heavy on his lower half. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes are darting everywhere in his room, ensuring that he’s alone and no one can see him in such a disheveled state. He uses part of his robe to dab away the sweat from his brow and then rubs his eyes as he collects himself.

Spends the next many few hours calming himself down and hoping that he is blessed by some unholy miracle where NOBODY walks in...

especially you...

with nothing but his tie hanging loosely around your neck and-...

Ah shit.

The following morning at breakfast, he is eyeing you rather heavily from across the table and his brothers take notice but never dare to say a word. They just assume that you’ve done something to piss him off again and want no part of it.

They are not entirely wrong, though. You had unknowingly irked him quite a bit.

You entered his dreams without permission, made such a delectable spectacle of yourself in front of him, and caused him to feel things that no other demon, angel, human, nor any other soul for that matter, has been able to make him feel. And now he has to deal with these explicit thoughts and feelings, especially when you’re around or in his vicinity, along with many other things that demand his attention and it’s all just so irritating. Delightfully irritating. The kind of irritating he secretly enjoys.

The next few days, you never really get the sense that anything is off with Lucifer for how well he carries himself, no matter his circumstances, and yet... he seems to be less physical with you. Normally, he would give you the occasional hand on the shoulder or upper back when you needed guidance, allow you to lean on his shoulder when your days had been particularly rough and you needed to rest, or pinch your cheek when he teased you but lately... he wouldn’t even keep eye contact with you for very long without turning away and- was that a hint of pink in his cheeks? No, surely you are imagining things. Lucifer, blushing? Has the devildom froze over?

💛Mammon:

This poor, sweet and a little bit sleazy man was just SO exhausted from having to get up early that morning when he’d normally sleep in, to go to a school he doesn’t ever really pay attention to, as well as constantly keep lower demons from getting anywhere near his precious MC, bribe Levi to do his homework in exchange for an exclusive Ruri-Chan figurine (which he went into further debt to obtain), keep his overbearing fanbase from his modeling jobs happy on social media... it all was simply too much for The Great Mammon to be doing when he could alternatively be doing something better. Like being lazy sleeping off this R.A.D lag.

He had skipped his last few remaining classes and told you he was headed to your room to crash before school let out and you two could hang out later. He plopped onto your bed, nuzzled his face into one of your pillows, and fell asleep shortly after to your sweet aroma surrounding him.

His dream began as they typically do, with him gambling his Grimm for higher payouts or watching the Devildom stock market fluctuate in his favor... or more often times than he’ll ever admit, it’s just the two of you spending some quality time together alone for a change.

Only this time, his dream didn’t end up the way it typically did.

In his dream, he was sitting next to you on the sofa with his arm resting behind your head wanting to wrap it around you so fucking badly and watching whatever you had put on when it was interrupted by the winning lottery ticket read out. He leapt from couch with a big yell and the winning ticket in hand, and rushed to hug the tv and to kiss the demon inside of it, thanking him, Lady Luck, and anyone else involved in his incredible fortune today. As he turned around to come squeeze you tight with excitement and have you share in his celebration, his whole body tensed and he stopped in his tracks. He had become a deer in the headlights.

You were now lewdly postured on the couch, bare and exposed, excluding how you were practically dripping in gold jewelry/accessories whilst surrounded by enormous piles of Grimm. With one finger, you beckoned him over.

To say that this is one of his all time favorite fantasies would be THE understatement of the millennia.

He was in front then over you in a matter of milliseconds, his demon form taking over his body and stealing noises from you that the entire House of Lamentation- no- the entire Devildom could hear and FUCK he loved that thought almost as much as he adored you he cared about you; the thought that the entire Devildom could hear that you were his and his alone, that no other soul could make you feel like this.

And just as it was about to get really good, he wakes up.

Red faced, breathing heavily, and a thick coat of sweat all over his body. Not to mention the newfound, painful tightness in his pants.

He’s jerking his head around the room to confirm hoping to deny that is was all simply a dream, and to be certain that you hadn’t come back from school early or something and found him like this.

“Unholy shit.” He wipes the sweat from his face and then takes his phone in his hand to check the time. “UNHOLY SHIT!!” You had texted that you were on your way back home 10 minutes ago! He had to be quick.

He replaced the sweaty sheets and pillow cases with new ones, adjusting them so that it looked as it had before he slept on them, tied his school uniform coat around his waist to disguise the ‘friendly neighborhood bachelor,’ and darted like a bat out of devildom to his room, avoiding major hallways and doors to ensure that no one could stop him or chase him down and see him in his predicament.

You can be sure that for the next few weeks, he’s avoiding you like the plague. He sends texts that he is “paying off a debt and can’t make it,” or “Sorry MC, I’m a little tied up at the moment. This Grimm won’t make itself.” and to you it was a little odd, but nothing he hasn’t exactly done before, so you go about your days as normal. Poor Mammon has once spent an entirety of four months working a few jobs to pay off one big loan.

If only you knew how often he was reliving that dream in his head, over and over and over again. For such a thing to become reality? Well... he feels he’d have better luck winning the lottery. But just as he gambled, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

🧡Leviathan:

It is not uncommon for Leviathan to have certain dreams about certain individuals he enjoys, be it anime characters, video game characters, idols that he fawns over, etc. It’s normal. Quite often, in fact, but he would rather LITERALLY DIE before he ever admits to such a thing, much less have anyone think he has a crush. With his brothers as they are known to be, he’d never live it down. Which is one of the reasons why he keeps himself locked away in his room and goes on binges of whatever it is he’s invested in at the time. He’s left alone to do and be as much of himself as he pleases without judgment. It is one particular episode of an anime he had been bingeing for several hours that has him with his head resting upon his keyboard and ever so slightly snoring away as the characters converse in the background. It wasn’t boring in the least, it’s just that his eyes refused to stay open any longer and his body decided for him that it was about time for a proper nap.

His dream began as normal, with him on a quest to save the renowned, royal heir from the ten-headed beast that guarded the tower in which they were kept. The journey to the tower was extensive and not without its obstacles, the battle was epic, in every sense of the word, and the reward for it’s heads would match the gratification of the victory that ensued it.

Little did he know that in that tower, it wasn’t just any royal heir lying in wait for their prince to come, as they had always been. It was you.

You, in all of your glory, draped across the bed and adorned with the finest of cloths that were barely covering your most intimate of skins.

As he entered your bedroom chambers, expecting to find a fictional character he adored in his waking hours, he stops dead in his tracks and his entire body turns red hot in matter of seconds. You could easily hear the thumping of his heart throwing heavy blows at his ribcage, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the steam trickling out of his ears. You could also hear the clinking of his amor, the metal plates shaking against one another as he trembles before you.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Yes, he’s had plenty of dreams like this before but.. fuck.. they were never of you. Much less like this. Believe him, he’s tried on many occasions to at least see your face or hear your voice, ANYTHING. But inevitably, his anxiety and shyness won in the end and you never came passing through his dreams... until now.

You leant against one arm, your lips curling into a smile, and then beckoned him silently with one crook of a finger.

Anxiety and shyness who?

He quickly does away with the heavy armor, tossing them aside, and crawls across the bed to you, to your face, to those precious lips.

He takes a hold of them in his own and seemingly devours you as he strips you of what little cloth covered you and then pushes you back down against the bed. The dream continues with your bodies intertwining in every way that earned him the lewdest of noises from you.

Until he jerks awake with his face a deep shade of crimson, body covered from head to toe in a mist of sweat, and a heartbeat that could put a drum solo to shame. He quickly scans his surroundings as he’s coming back to reality, making sure he’s the only one within a mile’s radius. If anyone thought he was a hermit now, you can only imagine what it would be like if he was caught looking the way that he did. The anime that he had fallen asleep to was now on a screen that was asking for confirmation if he was still watching. He presses the power button on his computer and wipes away the sweat on his brow before leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as he’s recollecting the dream. He sees the faces you were making in pleasure pass through his mind once more and it makes his face turn 30 shades redder and increases the painful tightness in his snug sweatpants. He shakes his head, no longer wanting to continue digging this grave of overwhelming lust, and plants his head back onto the keyboard. Lord Diavolo, please, just kill him now.

The following months, Leviathan stays locked away in his room and avoids you as if you were the final boss of a game he never wants to stop playing. He knew that if he saw you, got near you, or even heard your name being mentioned, there would be no way of stopping his thoughts, his body’s reactions to those thoughts, nor his brother’s comments about how he’s “acting awfully strangely.”

As much as he wishes that he never had the dream in the first place because of all of the trouble it’s causing, he can’t help but relive it over and over again, putting it on repeat in his mind. But to admit to you these powerful feelings and attempt to bring it to reality? Only normies do such a thing... right?

💚Satan:

Line after line, chapter after chapter, book after book, he simply could not put the new series he had discovered down. He was so invested, he’d finish one book and immediately pick up the next. His mind was reeling far too fast for him to stop now and nothing in all of the three realms could do so. That is until his own body waved it’s white flag and begged for him to shut his eyes, even if for just moment. Satan bargained, internally, that he’d allow himself roughly thirty minutes of rest before he’d pick back up where he left off. He sets the book on a nearby desk, settles down onto his loveseat and closes his eyes.

As a man of many talents and faces, his dreams were known to be as heavily diverse as he was, and often times reflected whatever book he had been reading, philosophy he had been pondering, or stress he had been managing. No one particular type of dream frequented more than another.

That being said, in the past few weeks, you had been a bit more physical with him. Whether it was a simple brush of the hands as you two reached for the same novel, late night study sessions ending up in late night study and cuddling sessions, or the occasional linking of arms as the pair of you walked the length of a museum and studied its inhabitants. It goes without saying that you were making an impression on him and his mind, leaving little to no room for any other thoughts than the ones involving you. Naturally, you had found your way into his dreamworld and you were the one constant in the ever changing slumber visions.

The dreams that you were involved in, which were now a majority of them, were mostly sweet; the most intimate being the one time you had placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. If you were to ask him about these dreams that had him chipper than usual, he would smile and tell you that “they were simply pleasant hallucinations but nothing more.” And he’d be lying through his teeth, desperately trying to keep his cheeks from reddening in front of you. If you were lucky enough that his gaze lingered, you’d catch the tint of pink making its way across his face. The poor inner romantic in him couldn’t help himself. He’s mastered the art of poker face in its entirety, but when it came to you, his willpower and calm demeanor waned into nothingness and he was like putty in your hands. Just don’t push it or there will be Devildom to pay.

This particular time around, though, his dream would take a more unforeseen turn.

In his dream, he had invited you to join him on an outing over to the Royal Library and you two were now making your way to your favorite lone table in the farthest back corner, hidden behind the many shelves of books. After claiming your usual spot, he went to gather the books he wanted to go through and planted himself in the chair to finally open them up and get started. Meanwhile, you had wandered off, presumably, to find and create your very own mountain of novels to conquer.

An hour or so passed and he had made his way through five of his books when he felt a tap against the cover of the one he was currently reading. “Forgive me, MC, but I’m almost done with this paragraph and I need just one more moment to do so.” Another tap against the cover. “May it wait, MC? I’m nearly finished.” This time, you gingerly grabbed the tip of his book and tilted it away from him (a pet peeve of his). Just as he was about to give you his trademark glare of warning, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, with his fingers letting go of the book and tightening into a fist taut enough to turn his knuckles white.

There you stood before him in little to no clothing, fluffy little cat ears and a tail to match, with a leash and collar adorning your precious neck. You took his stiffened hand, ever so slowly opened it up, and delicately placed the end of the lead into his palm, flashing him your cheekiest grin.

Now you’ve gone and done it. He snaps.

He jerks the end of the lead so that you’re aggressively pulled forward, bending over the table and sending the piles of books to the floor with audible thuds, and your lips crash into his. He uses his free hand to trap cradle the other side of your face as he devours your lips, devours your taste. Impatient and hungry, he soon lets you go with a low growl before standing up and dragging you behind him, forcefully, by the lead, coming to the front of a shelf that leant against a wall and grabbed your waist, lifting you up to push you against it, having more books tumble to the floor with a sound thud, while once again, taking your lips with his. Something about the way you looked, the way you sounded because of his actions, drove him completely mad.

Before it could go any further, he jerks wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He quickly scans his surroundings and when he finds it empty, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The knocks continue and from beyond the door, a familiar voice requests his audience. “Satan? It’s Solomon. My apologies, but I just wanted to return a borrowed book.”

He reaches for a nearby cloth and dabs away the sweat that covered his face. He steadies his breathing and in the stablest voice he could muster, he answers back, “Alright. One moment please.”

“Take your time,” the sorcerer replies.

He gathers himself quickly, as the master of his own emotions does, hoisted up from the loveseat, straightens himself out and starts to head for the door but with a quick glance downwards, he pauses. There’s no way he could greet Solomon with such a visible... display...

He takes his coat from the coatrack, wraps it around his waist and finally opens the door with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you kindly for the recommendation. It was a pleasant read,” Solomon tittered in recollection then immediately shifted into a frown of concern. “Satan... are you alright? Forgive my intrusion, but you seem a bit disheveled.” The disheveled man in question nods, chuckling in hopes of deterring Solomon from pressing any further by lightening his aura. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. I simply had a bit of a nightmare.” Solomon raised a brow and Satan continued in his tall tale. “It had been so long since I’ve had one, so I’m sure you can imagine how unnerving it’s effects had on me.” Moments passed like molasses as Solomon pondered what Satan had said and the uncomfortable silence was wearing down on Satan’s last minute, makeshift composure. “Thank you for returning the book,” Satan’s voice firmly interjecting the fellow wise man’s thoughts as he received the book from his hands, “and I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself.” He holds the book in front of where the coat covered his waist. “If you wish for more recommendations, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tea to drink and a book to read to calm my nerves. Good day, Solomon.” Before Solomon could get a final word in, Satan slips back into his room and shuts the door. For good measure, he locks it and turns the deadbolt. He shuffles back over to the loveseat where it all began and dropped down, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. The blush that wanted so desperately to creep it’s way into his complexion the moment he’d awoken was now set free and his entire face turned red. He knew how to keep a tight grip on every other emotion he’s ever had... but love? Lust? This was going to be a challenge.

Outside of the door, not having moved an inch, Solomon stood with his chin snug between the crook of his forefinger and thumb. “Can demons have nightmares...?” He audibly contemplated as he waited a moment, following his train of thought before asking himself aloud again, “If so... then why did Satan have an erection?”

A pair of delicate hands found their way to Solomon’s shoulders and he glanced over them to see Asmodeus leaning in close to his ear. “It’s called a kink, darling.” Solomon politely shoos away the embodiment of lust with a gentle wave of his hand before starting down the hall from which he came, with the demon practically skipping in tow. “Kinks, we both know, I’m aware of. I had just assumed that his.. situation.. would be more relative to Belphegor.”

“Well,” Asmodeus chirped, “that’s what you get for assuming.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #otome #mine #my posts #devildomdoofus #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me mc #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #mc

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Text

Glass Shatters || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader, also kinda Blaise x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxicity, ANGST, just pure fucking angst and asshole!draco, oh and swearing lol Summary: You realise that it’s time to end things with Draco when he hurts you one last time. AU with no Voldemort - 7th Year.

WORDS : 2294

Lyrics taken from ‘What Do I Tell My Friends’ by Bree Runway (the loml)

~~~

Hold me, don't let me go I'm fragile, I'm gonna fall right into you Catch time that I have lost Fly high, free fall, ooh

There’s always been something so beautiful about the way that glass shatters, loud and chaotic, scattering shards of itself everywhere and lodging itself in places that it doesn’t belong. It’s poetically exquisite, to just come apart and spread into tinier pieces of what you were once before, but it’s grossly painful to wear oneself out like that.

Sometimes, though not often enough, there is someone there to catch the glass before it hits the ground and scatters into a million pieces. A safety net, perhaps is the right word, there to protect those lattices from coming into contact with the hard surface that awaits them. Something to keep them from separating like the tangled limbs of playful children on a trampoline when they come back down to land against the woven polypropylene. But there’s not often a safety net waiting for you to fall.

And maybe that’s why people typically shatter like glass.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-huh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

You catch a glimpse of Draco across the room. He’s doing it again. He’s got one arm around Cho Chang’s shoulder and another around Millicent Bullstrode’s, and not a single sliver of attention is being directed toward you.

You’re not fragile. No. You never have been.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve prided yourself on being strong, on being able to protect yourself. What most people see when they look at you is power and ferocity- you're made of what Gods are made of and almost everyone knows it. You are not fragile.

But when it comes to Draco, you are like a frail baby bird that's always being nursed back to health. That was what a routine like the two of you had demanded. Submission, protection, but most would call it toxicity. You are putty in his hands and he knows it- every wall that you’ve ever built to protect yourself is nothing more than a child’s play pen when Draco is involved.

You catch his eye and scowl at the mischievous grin that he’s got on his face. He knows how much you despise his flirtatious nature, and it’s exactly that reason that encourages him to keep it up. You’re a beast that’s not to be messed with, like a tiger lodged in a cage, and he’s the only one that knows how to tame you. It always goes down the same way; he insists that the two of you need to keep it on the down-low, he then proceeds to flirt with everyone, you get upset, the two of you get in an argument and well... he always wins.

You're not fragile yet he always gets a reaction out of you.

But not tonight, no. Tonight it’ll be different.

Tonight you’re going to have a good time, with or without that snow-flake haired prick. You turn beside you where Neville, your best friend, is seated and smile at him.

“Neville, want to get smashed with me?”

“Always, Y/N.” Neville responds with a grin and you excitedly get up to get you both some drinks.

You're g-g-getting way too close (Oh oh, oh oh) Stop blowin' up my phone (Oh oh, oh oh) Just let me be alone (Oh oh, oh oh) It's gotta come to an end 'Cause what do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

Draco catches a glimpse of you leaving the couch where Neville, Blaise and Hannah are sitting, and decides to follow you toward the drinks table.

“Whoring around are we?” He asks with his eyebrows raised and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you’re one to talk.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”He tugs on your chin and brings you up to face him.

“First of all,” You start as you softly remove his hand from your chin and lower it to his side, “You heard me. Second of all,” You put a hand to his chest and gently shove him backwards, “Back up please, I can smell your breakfast from here.”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Y/N, this bratty behaviour-“

“Call me a brat, ever again, and I’ll make sure that’s the last thing you ever call me.” You smile, “I have a name, stick to it.”

This is very new for Draco, he’s never seen you speak so calmly in the heat of an argument. He’s seen you rage at him, yell until your lungs are sore and throat is raw, clench your fists so tight that crescent moons form in your palm. But he’s never seen you like this, never so collected. If he’s being completely honest, your level-headed appearance is throwing him off.

“Whatever pothead Neville’s given you is clearly fucking with your head, let’s go back to my dorm-“ He starts as he inches closer and grabs your wrist.

You yank yourself out of his grip and take a few steps away from him, “As tempting as that offer sounds, I’m good thanks.” When you notice the look of confusion painting across his features you smile awkwardly, “I know how this always ends so I’d much rather be alone.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait until you don’t want to be alone anymore?” He asks with a scoff.

“It’s not like I haven’t been doing that for you.” You accuse and watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration, a sign that his patience for you is wearing thin. “And that’s not what I meant. I want to be alone, indefinitely.”

“What?”

“This,” You gesture between the both of you, “Is over. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh my fuck, do what Y/N?”

“All of it. I can’t keep sneaking around anymore like some kind of dirty secret. I can’t keep watching you flirt with everyone that’s within a 5km radius, and I can’t keep lying to my friends. What am I meant to tell them when I go disappearing for hours at a time and come back, covered in hickeys?”

“Nothing. It's no one's business.” He grits out angrily and you scoff with a small laugh.

“You’re pathetic. We’re done.” You utter before walking away from him, and his little corner, and go back to join Blaise, Hannah and Neville on the dance floor.

In the mirror like you're tough, right? I shoulda known once when you bit twice Drip drop both my , yeah I been nice Vodka overdose but no ice I'm done catching feelings, I catch flights Was in the dark but I got bright Not crawling back to you tonight Not crawling back to you tonight, tonight

“Shots, now.” You mumble once you get back to your friends and they waste no time obliging.

Draco’s had the pleasure of picking you apart like a worn out doll for too long, you won’t tolerate it anymore. He calls, you run. He warns, you heed. He scolds, you leave. Whatever he wants, you do without a moment of hesitation. When had you become so easily prey to his antics? You steal a glance of him checking himself out in a nearby mirror and feel your throat close up in disgust. How can someone so gorgeous be so horrible?

Deep down, beneath all that beauty and cockiness, is a vulnerable, scared and loveless little boy who didn’t learn to outgrow his insecurities. He can pretend all he wants that he’s a diamond but you’ll always know, he’s dark and desolate like a stone of coal. Something inside of him is fractured beyond repair and now he’s just remnants of disintegrated life. And try as hard as you might, you can’t fix whatever’s broken inside him. It’s not your job to anyway.

You always run back to him, in hopes of finally curing the malaise that torments his soul, but not tonight. No. Tonight will be different.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-uh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

“Is this a party or a funeral? For fucks sake, turn it up Ginny!” You shout as you turn behind you to face the beautiful ginger that’s controlling the music.

“Anything for you Y/N.” She responds flirtatiously as she sends you a wink and proceeds to turn up the volume to the music. You look away from her with a dopey smile, trying to pretend that her wink hadn’t made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Oh Ginny. If you hadn’t wasted so much time pining after that blond prat then maybe you’d have gotten to her before Harry had.

“Come dance with me!” Blaise yells over the music and you happily agree as you let him take your hand and move you toward the makeshift dancefloor.

Any other time, you would have refused. It’s no secret that, despite being best friends, Blaise and Draco can be very competitive. Blaise had always been your friend and Draco, had not. But it was quite obvious to anyone who had eyes that the two of them both took quite a liking to you, and while your relationship with Draco isn’t public, it’s still never a good idea to get too close to Blaise. But fuck good ideas, tonight none of it matters.

If Draco likes to see you angry then today he’ll see you seething. Every unspoken rule that’s ever sat between the two of you will now be broken so harshly that it’ll shake him to his core.

You wait until you’ve spotted him in the room, then you hook your arms around Blaise’s neck and allow his hands to fall on your waist as a measure to guide you along with him. It’s not long until Draco sees you, and when his eyes lock with yours, you know that he’s positively enraged. If this is a game, today you are winning.

He’s almost always got the upper hand. But not tonight. No. Tonight is different.

Before you know it Draco is crossing the room and yanking you away from Blaise by the arm, dragging you to an abandoned section of the room.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Why are you hovering so close to me?” You ask in frustration as you step back from him. “Sheesh.”

“Sheesh? Sheesh?” He repeats in disbelief and you have to resist the urge to laugh. “Y/N, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough apparently, considering I’m standing here with you and not grinding against your better looking counterpart.” You mumble and Draco scoffs.

“Blaise is not better looking than me-“

“Okay Romeo, whatever you say.” You cut him off with a giggle, “Are we done here or was there more?”

“Was there more?” He repeats in a mocking tone, like a child making fun of their childhood friend. “Of course there was bloody more!”

His outburst has you laughing, genuinely laughing, and for a second you see the Draco Malfoy that got you into this mess in the first place. Your funny, good-looking, charming classmate that you accidentally allowed to creep into your heart. But he’s not the real Draco, no, that Draco doesn’t actually exist.

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek and, without even thinking, say “I wish that this was the real you.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, clearly confused, but you continue nonetheless. “I can’t keep doing this Draco, I love you but I love myself more and I can’t allow you to get in the way of my wellbeing any longer.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “How am I getting in the way of your wellbeing?”

“Tell me that you love me too, right now, say it.” You shrug.

“Y/N, you can’t jus-“

“Okay, tell me that we can go public.” You revert and he swallows.

“Why are you-“

“Fuck, I’ll make it easy for you.” You interrupt him once again and give him a thin smile, “Tell me that what we have is real and that we’re in a relationship.”

He opens his mouth but no words come out and you nod your head awkwardly in understanding.

“Y/N, it’s not that-“

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief, “Your chest is hollow and yet you still have no space for me.”

“No-“

You blink back tears as you continue, “You push away everyone that cares about you and then you turn around and complain about the fact that there’s no one left to root for you. How can I possibly be in your corner when you’re continuously trying to shove me out of it?”

There are tears welling in your eyes but you don’t let them fall, no, he doesn’t deserve to make you cry.

He looks at you in shock and you know that you’re not getting any kind of closure from him. Despite how hard you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had always been nothing more than a warm bed that he could settle into when he was lonely. The fire in you that he’s always admired seems to dwindle whenever you’re beneath his gaze, and now you realise that it’s not fair for you to die out for him.

“I hope you learn to start letting people in.” You whisper before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking back toward your friends.

He watches you walk away from him and struggles to sort through his thoughts. No, no, no. You can’t leave him, everyone else has already left him. You’re safe, you’re warm, you’re you, and Draco knows that he has feelings for you but how can he possibly convey that when words always get trapped in his throat like a cricket in a shoebox?

He knows what he wants to say to you, the words are scraping against the belt of his mouth like knives ripping through tape on a cardboard box, but how does he get them out, how does he make you understand?

Maybe that’s just it, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t make you understand. He doesn’t get you. He breaks, little by little, with every step you take away from him.

What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

“What was that about?” Blaise asks in your ear and you roll your eyes as you pull back to look at him.

“Draco being immature, nothing important.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Blaise smiles sheepishly. “I was worried that maybe something was going on between you two.”

You smile brightly at the boy as you bring his hands down to your waist and sway to the music. “Why would that worry you Zabini?”

“I’m kind of into you.” Blaise whispers before bringing his lips down to connect with yours.

You don’t notice, too engulfed in the feeling of Blaise’s lips against yours, but across the room Draco’s eyes are focused quite intently on you and Blaise. When the two of you kiss Draco drops the glass that he had been holding, and he thinks that maybe he’s that glass; being smashed to smithereens.

~~~

Okay, I’ll stop with angst now... (maybe) I have the sudden desire to write fluff so the sequel to ‘Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass’ will definitely be wholesome and fluffy.

I’m probably not going to post again for a few days, I’m a bit worn out rn, but I’ll be back to writing soon!

anyway, love you all

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco angst #draco fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

199 notes · View notes

mello-jello · 3 years

Note

CAN I REQURST LRBI SYAIGN I LOBE YOU TO HANEG FOR THE FIRDY ITME?? 🌻🌻🤲🤲💨

ILOBEYOUSOMIHXTHATIAMVEINGSOFTFORYOU,PLEASEANYHTIGNYOUWRITEORDRAWAREABSOLTELYAMAZING,HABEANICEDSYBRO

I LOBE YUO MOON BRO 🌻

Okay… Okay, it’s okay. It’s just Levi, there’s no need to be afraid.

Hange’s parents were out for the night and they had given her permission to have Levi over for the first time, unsupervised. They would be completely alone. Hange wanted to finally tell him. She wanted to tell him that she’d slowly come to realize she saw him as more than a friend. More than a best friend.

But she had to admit to herself that she was nervous as hell.

The school year had come to an end and next year would be their last in highschool. So much was going to change. They would each be deciding their futures: where to go to college and what for. There was a nervous thought in the back of Hange’s mind, that grew more incessant as time went on. “What if we never see each other again?”

No, stop it!

She internally squashed the intrusive thoughts in her mind.

We’ve gone over this! Levi has been there since before I can remember.

She had looked at it from every angle, analysed every little detail. There’s no way Levi didn’t love her back. The evidence was plain as day. Hange was allowed to break Levi’s rules. She was allowed to touch him, she was allowed to share his food, she was allowed to push his buttons farther than anyone else. And on top of all that, Levi still chooses to hang out with her. If he was just being polite when she was around, he wouldn’t actively seek her out in the cafeteria. He wouldn’t have asked to be lab partners, and he wouldn’t have accepted her invitation for tonight.

He also wouldn’t have kissed her the other day.

Right, that’s right. We’ve already come to that conclusion, no need to second guess ourselves now.

Who’s “we”?

Never mind that now, we’re on a mission.

“We” again, huh?

Oh I get it, this boy is literally driving me crazy!

Us.

Stop it!

Hange checked herself in the mirror for the hundredth time that evening. She never cared before, but somehow she did tonight. She wanted everything to be perfect and go exactly according to plan. Levi would come in, they’d chat a bit, sit on the couch and maybe watch Netflix. Hange would make sure to brush up against Levi’s arm. Then, Hange would turn to him, sweep his hair out of his eyes and look into them as she said it. She was going to say I love you and demand a response.

Oh yes, she thought to herself. She would be cool and confident and this was going to be romantic as shit.

She heard a familiar knock on the door. She took one more deep breath and nodded to her reflection. Okay.

She opened the door to see Levi standing with his backpack casually slung on one shoulder.

“Hey Levi!” She exclaimed a little too excitedly than she would have liked.

“Hey,” he said, nonchalantly crossing the threshold of her apartment.

Hange’s smile was replaced with a scowl. UGH.

Levi kicked his shoes off and neatly placed them on the mat. “Well, shall we?” he gestured to the living room.

“Right! Come on in,” Hange led the way as if Levi hadn’t been to her place hundreds of times. She sat down on the couch, expecting Levi to take the spot beside her. But Levi opted instead to take the chair at the end of the coffee table. Hange’s mind was reeling.

OH MY FUCK-WHY IS HE LIKE THIS?

WHY CAN’T THIS BE EASY?

Levi, you dense fuck, I love you so much

SO TELL HIM

I will!

Levi placed this backpack between his legs and unzipped. He pulled out a small square container and placed it on the table.

“My mom made us brownies,” he stated plainly, opening the lid for Hange to see. They were cut into little heart shapes.

Hange gasped at the aroma: they were fresh. “Mmmm, thank you Kuchel!”

Levi paused for a moment, as if deep in thought. Hange stared back, not knowing what to do.

“I’ll uh… get us some plates,” Levi stood up and made his way to the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, Hange slumped back onto the couch. She was such a bad host.

It’s okay, he just knows where everything is, this is fine. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Hange rubbed her palms on her knees, suddenly aware of how warm she was. She swallowed hard.

Get it together!

I’m trying!

Levi returned with two small plates and two tall glasses of milk. He silently placed them in front of Hange, and much to her delight, he sat on the couch beside her.

Oh thank goodness!

The plan was back on track. Hange did her best to hide her smile. They watched a random show together, and each time Hange leaned forward to grab a snack, she made sure she leaned back ever so slightly closer and closer to Levi. He didn’t seem to mind. The episode was coming to a close and now was the perfect time.

Oh shit, my hand is sticky. No! How am I supposed to sweep his hair back now?

Maybe he won’t notice?

This is Levi, we’re talking about, of course he’ll notice!

Shit, you’re right.

“Hey, Hange-”

“I’ll be right back!”

They spoke at the same time, Hange launching upwards and out of the room. She went to the kitchen to wash her hands. The cool water helped her feel less clammy. She poured herself a glass of ice cold water and chugged the whole thing. Resting her arms on the counter, she took a few more deep breaths to collect herself. She refilled her glass and poured a second one to bring to Levi.

When she returned to the living room, Levi was gone. Her heart sank.

Oh no, we weirded him out!

Calm down, his stuff is still here, he’s just in the bathroom.

Oh yeah!

She sat back down and waited for Levi before resuming the show. She sat in complete silence, just trying to stop sweating.

He returned and to Hange’s absolute horror, he sat on the very end of the couch, much further than before. Great, all that progress during the last episode, wasted. Clearing her throat, she reached for the remote.

“Hange, can we talk?” Levi’s voice sounded small and uncharacteristically nervous.

“Uh, sure absolutely,” she answered, putting the remote back down and turning to face him, giving her undivided attention. The look on his face twisted her guts. He looked pensive, apprehensive, and like he was about to tell her he didn’t feel the same way.

“Listen, I was talking to my mom about love, and we got talking about different types of love; familial, romantic, platonic, etc and while there are different types, there is certainly a spectrum…”

Hange starred, unblinking and completely bewildered. Levi had never said this many words in one breath before. He was looking everywhere but at Hange. She stopped listening to his words and just started sinking in her own thoughts of doubt.

This was so stupid.

She braced herself for rejection. Levi was rambling on way too long. She guessed he didn’t want to lose their friendship either, but there would be no going back after this.

“... and so after that, I realized...” he looked directly at her now, pulling her back from her reverie. He took one shuddering breath. “... I love you, Hange. I always have.”

Oh. OH!

Her jaw fell open as she processed his words. She was caught up between the disappointment of not getting to say it first, and the relief of knowing he felt the same. What does she do now? Kiss him? Make a joke? She should definitely do something, right? He was getting worried because Hange hasn’t moved.

Tell him you love him back, you idiot!

She blinked and remembered how to breathe. “I love you too!” She blurted out.

Levi’s face washed over with relief and he let out a nervous laugh-something Hange hadn’t seen on him before. She also laughed as the tension in the room dissipated.

Levi’s face turned a bright pink and he looked up to the ceiling. “Why was this so hard?” He asked nobody in particular.

Hange crawled across the couch, closing the gap between them. She sheepishly admitted, “I’ve been freaking out all day!”

“Same here!” Levi reached out, and cupped Hange’s face in his hands. He stroked her cheek with his thumb as he searched her eyes. “Although, I have no idea why,” he murmured before pressing his lips on hers.

It was the best kiss of Hange’s life. All the stress, anxiety, and doubt melted away with it. She loved him, and he loved her, and that was all that mattered at the moment. His lips on hers, pressing deeper and more passionately than she’d ever experienced before, awoke a strange feeling from within. It was warm and welcoming and she never wanted it to go away.

Alas, they were both humans that needed oxygen, and so they broke off their kiss for a moment to breathe.

“I love you, Levi,” she repeated, a little more confidently this time.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, before kissing her again.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levihan modern au #i lobe you too bro #i was so tempted to actually put lobe in there somewhere #hope you like it moon

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