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tieronecrush · 5 months

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secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage.

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.”

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl.

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss.

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

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rolanpilled · 6 months

Text

BG3 Patch 5 Spoilers

WARNING: BG3 SPOILERS AHEAD!

New content from the ending scene of BG3. This is all from the perspective of a redeemed Dark Urge who romanced Shadowheart and Halsin, and recruited every "good" ally possible.

people at the party: all your companions, scratch, owlbear, volo, and a bard in the middle playing a song (his name is milil)

lae'zel is the only one who isn't here physically, she sent an astral projection instead because she's been busy fighting vlaakith

astarion explains why he ran away (ashamed) when the sunlight hit him, he's become a "hero" who adventures and has accepted himself

(romanced halsin) you can hug halsin, he's missed his friends and you. you can do both the hug and the kiss, it's really sweet. he's turned the shadowlands into a community, repursing reithwin and moonrise towers into homes for people

jaheira's daughter rejoined the flaming fist, she's been working on rebuilding the harper network. the upper city was entirely destroyed by the battle but has been mostly rebuilt. she jokes that you might be a parent soon

wyll gives you a choice between three stories, a stegosaur/dinosaur battle, an impossible lich, or a young dragon. he lost his warlock powers but has been managing the best he can, and has become a RANGER ("a true hunter of monsters"). duke ravengard is commanding the flaming fist and help rebuilding the city, and he's very proud of his son

minsc and boo guard the streets while jaheira is "occupied with harperish manners". they "went to give a tickle" to the zhentarim, then got locked up in a zhentish cell, awaiting execution? idk if i'm reading incorrectly but he seems to be implying that he actually GOT executed but withers brought him back just in time lmfao

gale has become "professor gale dekarios of blackstaff academy, educator of the esteemed school of illusion". tara is with him. he surrended the crown of karsus to mystra, who cured him of the orb in exchange (his tattoo is gone), though his students still think he's explosive (he implies that he uses it as a threat to keep his class under control). he tells his students about your adventures together. he also implies you're welcome to visit his tower

shadowheart (main romance) - the game told me that we settled down together to live a happy, peaceful life on a farm in the countryside. shar still hurts her (if parents are saved), especially when she can sense that SH is enjoying herself, but it's been getting less frequent because she's been "losing interest". there's a new hug and kiss scene for her too, so i'm assuming this is for ALL companions and not just halsin/SH/whoever

withers will speak to you about karlach, explaining that she won't be able to come back. he jokes about her, which is rare for him, and you're given to opportunity to grieve her loss. in "a dozen tendays" (assumedly how long bg3 is), "an entire life was lived, she lived several centuries" (not exact quote).

milil, the bard playing in the center, does NOT want to be there. he's pissed that no one recognizes him (he's pissed specifically that i'm a bard and don't recognize him), i had to pass a deception check to recognize him and he cheered up and offered to change the song he's playing

there's a chest called "Chest of Grateful Words" filled with letters from your allies!

"Official Guild Letter"

"Letter from Barcus"

"Letter from Art"

"Letter from Valeria"

"Letter from Ravengard"

"Letter from Sebastian"

"Letter from Florrick"

"Letter from the Gur" (unascended Astarion)

"Letter from Alfira" (durge, killed quil grootslang)

"Letter from Dammon"

"Letter from Elminster"

"Letter from Nocturne"

"Letter from Voss"

"Letter from Hope"

"Letter from Mayrina"

"Letter from Nine-Fingers"

"Letter from Zevlor"

"Harp-stamped Letter"

Baldur's Mouth Gazette

If you find anything interesting I missed, please let me know.

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elia-the-bibliophile · 1 month

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Pilates Prince (Carlos Sainz Jr x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 1,8k

Y/N convinces the unsuspecting Carlos to join her for her usual Pilates class. But as history has shown, even the bravest souls have succumbed to the quirks and quivers of Pilates. The question remains: can a Formula 1 driver withstand this modern form of torture?

The home gym buzzed with the sound of weights clinking and the rhythmic thud of Carlos's footsteps as he pushed himself through another set of squats. His muscles strained with determination, fueled by the desire to reach a new personal record.

As Carlos focused on his workout, Y/N tiptoed into the room, trying not to startle him. She watched him for a moment, admiring his dedication and the way his muscles flexed with each movement. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she cleared her throat softly to announce her presence.

“Hey there, handsome,” Y/N said, her voice teasing as she leaned against the doorframe.

Startled, Carlos nearly dropped the weights, quickly turning to face her with a wide grin. “Hey, bonita,” he replied, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

Y/N's grin widened as she stepped closer. “So I had a brilliant idea today,” she began, barely able to contain her enthusiasm. “ I thought, wouldn't it be fun for us to do something new together? So, I may or may not have signed you up for something special.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Y/N paused for dramatic effect before revealing her plan. “Pilates class,” she announced, watching his reaction eagerly.

Carlos nodded, a confident gleam in his eye. “Pilates, huh? Sounds like a challenge, but I'm up for it. I mean, how hard could it be? I've tackled race tracks, after all.”

Y/N couldn't help but grin at his bravado, knowing full well the surprise that awaited him in the studio. “Oh, absolutely,” she replied, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “I mean, you've got such amazing lower body strength, love. And Pilates? It's just all about those tiny, baby weights compared to your usual training regime.”

Carlos chuckled, puffing out his chest proudly. “Exactly! I'll breeze through it like a champ.”

Y/N continued to egg him on, unable to resist the temptation to pull him into her trap. “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” she said. “You'll have those Pilates poses mastered in no time.”

Carlos grinned, feeling invincible in the face of Y/N's encouragement. “You bet I will. Just you wait and see.”

Little did he know, the Pilates studio held surprises of its own, and Y/N couldn't wait to see the look on his face when reality hit.

__________________________________________

The day of the class arrived, and Y/N could barely contain her excitement as she practically dragged Carlos to the studio.

As they entered, Y/N's instructor greeted them warmly, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she glanced at Carlos. “Welcome, Carlos! We're thrilled to have you join us today. Now, before we begin, I just need to ask a few questions about your endurance and flexibility, just to tailor the class to your needs.”

Carlos flashed his trademark smile, brushing off any concerns. “No need to worry about me, I've got plenty of endurance and flexibility. I'm sure I'll be able to keep up just fine.”

The other ladies in the class exchanged amused glances, barely able to contain their laughter at Carlos's cockiness. They had seen this scenario play out time and time again, with countless boyfriends falling victim to the deceptive simplicity of Pilates.

Suppressing their giggles, they exchanged knowing looks, silently commiserating with each other over the fate that awaited Carlos. After all, he wasn't the first boyfriend to walk through those doors with unwavering confidence, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.

The instructor raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smirk as she glanced at Y/N. “Well, we'll soon find out, won't we? Just take it easy and listen to your body. Remember, Pilates is all about precision and control.”

Carlos nodded assuredly, oblivious to the amused glances being exchanged around him. “Got it. Precision and control. Sounds manageable enough.”

__________________________________________

As the class began with a gentle warm-up, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Carlos, curious to see how he would fare.

Carlos, ever the picture of confidence, focused intently on following the instructor's cues, his muscles rippling as he executed each stretch and mobility sequence with what he believed to be effortless precision.

Y/N bit her lip to stifle a giggle as she watched him, unable to resist the urge to tease him just a little. “Look at you, Pilates Prince,” she whispered, leaning in close. “Feeling the burn yet?”

Carlos shot her an arrogant grin as he surveyed the room. “Not even close,” he replied, his voice oozing with self-assurance. “In fact, I think some of these ladies are already breaking a sweat. But me? I'm just getting warmed up.”

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes affectionately, but she decided to play along, knowing that the real challenge lay ahead.

“Of course, love,” she said with mock sincerity, her lips quirking into a playful smile. “You're practically breezing through it. I guess all those years of racing have really paid off.”

__________________________________________

As the class progressed, it quickly became apparent that his confidence may have been misplaced. With every stretch, twist, and lunge, he found himself struggling to keep up, his muscles protesting against movements they had never experienced before.

With a loud clatter, Carlos attempted to mount the reformer, only to teeter precariously on one foot before stumbling awkwardly to the side. His knees shook like jelly as he struggled to regain his balance, cursing under his breath in Spanish and invoking the names of saints he hadn't thought of since his grandmother's Sunday prayers.

“Madre maria ten piedad de mi que carajo es este movimiento.”

Y/N stifled a laugh as she watched his futile attempts, biting her lip to contain her amusement as Carlos's macho facade crumbled before her eyes. “Having fun, love?” she asked innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Carlos shot her a withering glare, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to master the reformer. “Oh, loads, hermosa,” he replied through gritted teeth.

Despite his attempts to maintain a facade of indifferent, Carlos couldn't ignore the ludicrousness of the scene before him. Sweat cascaded down his face like a waterfall, transforming his once pristine shirt into a clingy second skin that threatened to reveal more than he bargained for.

With each wobbly movement on the reformer, Carlos resembled less of the suave driver he fancied himself to be and more like a bewildered penguin attempting to navigate a slippery ice rink. His limbs flailed about in a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of balance, eliciting stifled snorts and amused whispers from his fellow classmates.

But amidst the chaos of his struggle, there was a certain charm to Carlos's determination to persevere, even as he teetered on the brink of defeat.

As the instructor called for the class to begin pulsing, Carlos felt a surge of panic wash over him. He watched in horror as Y/N and the other women around him moved with effortless grace, their bodies in perfect sync with the instructor's tap…tap…tap of hands.

Meanwhile, Carlos's thigh muscles were staging a rebellion of their own, twitching and spasming in protest at the mere thought of pulsing. He tried to mimic the smooth movements of the others, but his efforts only resulted in a series of awkward twitches and jerks.

The instructor observed Carlos's increasingly erratic attempts at pulsing, she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. “Carlos, do you need a little rest?” she called out, her tone a blend of concern and amusement.

Carlos, his face flushed with both exertion and embarrassment, attempted to muster a confident response. “Rest? Who, me?” he replied, his voice cracking slightly as he struggled. “Oh, no, no, I'm just... uh... getting into the groove, you know?”

Y/N let out a choked laugh at his feeble attempt to save face. Pilates had claimed yet another unwitting victim that is her boyfriend.

__________________________________________

Just as Carlos let out a relieved sigh, thinking the worst was over, the instructor's voice rang out once more. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for everyone's favorite—planking!”

Carlos's heart sank as he heard those dreaded words, his muscles already protesting in anticipation of the impending torture. White spots danced before his eyes, and he could feel the familiar sensation of lightheadedness creeping in.

Desperate to avoid further humiliation, Carlos mustered all the courage he could summon and raised a trembling hand to signal his surrender. “Uh, excuse me, instructor?” he called out, his voice wavering with a mix of exhaustion and defeat.

The instructor turned to him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes, Carlos? Need a little breather?”

Carlos nodded weakly, his pride all but forgotten in the face of sheer survival. “Yeah, just a quick breather,” he replied, his words punctuated by labored breaths. “You know, gotta... preserve my energy for the victory lap.”

And then Carlos collapsed onto the mat in a heap of exhaustion.

__________________________________________

Carlos stirred from his impromptu nap as he felt someone gently tapping his cheek. Blinking blearily, he was greeted by the sight of Y/N's upside-down face peering at him.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Y/N said, her voice soft with affection as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Carlos's forehead.

Carlos groaned in response, his limbs felt heavy as he attempted to sit up. “What happened?” he mumbled, his words slurred with sleep.

Y/N chuckled softly. “Looks like you fell asleep,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “Out like a light.”

Carlos rubbed his eyes, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the realization of what had transpired. “I... uh... must have needed it,” he muttered sheepishly, unable to meet Y/N's gaze.

But Y/N just smiled. “It's okay, honey,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Thank you for doing this with me. I really appreciate it.”

The instructor approached them as she took a sip from her water bottle. “Well, well, well, looks like the Pilates Prince has finally awoken,” she remarked, her voice tinged with humor.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced at Carlos. “He's alive and kicking, don't worry,” she replied, her tone light-hearted. “Though I was starting to worry if we might need to call for an ambulance.”

Carlos managed a weak smile, feeling a flush of embarrassment at being the center of attention. “I'm fine, really,” he insisted weakly. “Just needed a little power nap, that's all.”

The instructor raised an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and concern. “Well, next time, try to save the nap for after class, okay?” she said, unable to suppress a chuckle at Carlos's expense.

Carlos nodded sheepishly, feeling a pang of guilt for disrupting the class. “Got it,” he replied, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

__________________________________________

That night, still feeling the lingering effects from all the pulses, Carlos decided to share his experience with the world.

“Salute to all the amazing women who conquer Pilates on the regular! 💪 Tried it out today and let's just say, I have a newfound respect for those tiny weights, stretchy bands, and the reformer😅 #StillRecovering”

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prythianpages · 3 months

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Wanna Be Yours | Part Two

Rhysand x Reader | Rhysand is absolutely smitten with you and you appear to be blind from it.

This is a part two to this. You can find the masterlist to keep track of future parts here.

warnings: none

a/n: I use a prompt from the lovely @thepromptswhisperer . you can find the post here. I bolded & italicized the dialogue I used from it.

The secrets that Rhysand holds in his heart are harder to hide than he thought. He can’t help it. His heartbeat is at its peak whenever you speak or simply look his way. The weight of his confession persists, akin to an inconsolable ache nestled in his chest, right above the delicate golden thread that intimately connects his soul to yours.

Three months have passed since that night—the night when he found himself grappling with delirium, induced by the venom coursing through his veins. It was the result of a miscalculated move when patrolling the Night Court’s borders. His injuries, though not fatal, seemed insurmountable due to the poison's cruel deception that night. In a panic, he insisted on seeing you and only you. If he were to face oblivion, he wanted you to be the last person he saw.

The poison, however, proved powerless against your skill. You healed him and brought him back from the brink. "I think I might be in love with you," were the words he had uttered to you and though he was lucid, he meant them. Wholeheartedly.

And now, there's no uncertainty. He is in love with you. The Cauldron may have destined you two together but Rhysand is beyond doubt that he would love you, bond or no bond. You’re beautiful, sweet and kind. Everything he could ever dream of, and dream of you he has done. A lot.

Rhysand wonders if you dream of him too. If you think about him as much as he thinks about you. He wished he had been there to see your reaction when opening his gift but you had been busy all day. It sparked a worry in him that you were being overworked. Then, his own duties got in the way, leaving him with no choice but to leave it at your door. You had greeted him the following morning when you went to check up on him. The smile you graced him with in appreciation for the gift was as golden and glorious as the sun itself. One he wants more of.

You have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know…

“Whiskey for your thoughts?”

Dragging himself away from the labyrinth of his thoughts, Rhysand brings himself back to the sitting room of his house. He accepts the glass of golden brown liquid from Cassian with gratitude, leaning back into the soft cushion of his chair.

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s shadows seem to flicker with a knowing gleam. He doesn’t have to ask to know who Rhysand is referring to. “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“A couple days too long,” Rhysand replies with a sigh, prompting a chuckle from Cassian. As he swirls the liquid in his glass, mirroring the stirring emotions within him, his usually composed facade begins to waver. “She’s my mate.”

“We know,” Cassian grins, though it’s the first time Rhysand has said it. A quick exchange of glances with Azriel makes Cassian shrink back sheepishly, putting on a surprised expression. “Sorry, I mean. What??”

Rhysand glances between Azriel and Cassian. “You know?”

Cassian and Azriel exchange another guilty glance before Azriel turns to Rhysand. “We suspected,” he replies.

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know. We also heard your confession–ow!” Cassian's words were cut short as he shot Azriel a glare, rubbing his arm.

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his eyes. He takes a sip of his drink, the corners of his lips lifting into a wry smile. "How is it that you two heard, but she didn’t?" he asks, his tone taking on a solemn note.

“I invited her to dinner and you know what she did?” Rhysand doesn’t wait for his brothers to reply to continue. “She brought Madja and another healer with her. Thought it was a group dinner. I bought her flowers and she handed them out to her patients. Thought I had given them to the infirmary, not her. I asked her to join me for a coffee but she said she was busy and I do believe her–there’s been a nasty flu going around. By the Cauldron, is she even taking care of herself? Maybe, I should pretend to be sick just to get her to see me…”

Rhysand downs the remainder of his drink, the burn in his throat paling in comparison to the burning he feels for you. Turning to Azriel, his eyes sparkle with determination.

“Hit me.”

Azriel chokes on his drink and Cassian grimaces as droplets land on his arm. “What?”

“C’mon. I’m sure you’ve been longing for it, especially after I sent you to parole the Illyrian camps last week,” Rhysand says with a smirk. He then angles his head, giving Azriel perfect access. He taps his jaw. “Hit me. Hard. So that I don’t heal as quickly.”

“Why aren’t you asking me?” Cassian asks, tone on the brink of offense. “I can give you a nasty black eye!”

Rhysand is about to reply when a shiver runs through the air. The room then falls into silence. Rhysand feels something teasing at the edges of his senses. His eyes, aglow with the ethereal light of night, narrow. There’s an unsettling disturbance within the rhythmic pulse of his court. An intruder.

Azriel’s shadows pick up on the stirrings of Rhysand’s instincts. He’s rising from his seat, ready to take on the uninvited presence. However, Rhysand, swifter than a fleeting shadow, vanishes into the embrace of the dark night before Azriel can.

There’s a knock on your door and you pull your gaze away from the gold trinket box Rhysand gifted you. Carefully placing it back onto your nightstand, you make your way toward the door. Madja, your mentor, is on the other side. She holds a faelight in the palm of her hand that highlights the gentle contours of her face. The small smile on her lips speaks volumes and you don’t have to ask why she’s coming for you in the late hour. Still, you can’t help but voice your curiosity as she guides you to the foyer of the infirmary.

“What is it this time?”

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

You smile in greeting to the Shadowsinger who is waiting for you. He nods his head at you and without a word, offers his arm. Madja calls out words of encouragement to you.

Azriel’s shadows wrap around you both and winnow you to Rhysand’s private residence. A beautiful and vast estate nestled in the heart of Velaris. He guides you to Rhysand’s room, though you know your way around well. As your hand reaches for his bedroom’s door, Azriel’s voice stops you.

“I must warn you…he’s in a mood.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say, echoing Madja’s words from earlier. It’s more to reassure yourself than him. Azriel only smiles at you in response.

Rhysand’s room is spacious–a sanctuary of regal splendor. Its walls are bathed in a deep shade reminiscent of midnight and adorned with tapestries of celestial landscapes. Everything about the room reflects the refined taste and mystical elegance of its inhabitant and what a mystery he is to you. The High Lord of the Night Court is the most powerful in Prythian history. To many, he is careless and as cold as the winds from the Illyrian mountains.

Only those dear to him know the truth of his nature. You still can’t wrap your head around as to why he chose to let you see the man behind the mask. Perhaps, it’s all attributed to your power but with Madja living here, you don’t quite understand the need for two healers in Velaris.

“Daybreak.”

Rhysand looks like a dream.

He stands under the gracefully arched openings of his balcony. Wispy curtains sway with the gentle night breeze, carrying with them the intoxicating fragrance of citrus and sea that caresses your senses. As moonlight spills into the room, it bathes him in a stellar glow, causing his membranous wings to dance in magnificent midnight hues. You can’t help but wonder which is more beautiful–the breathtaking view of the Court of Dreams from his balcony or him.

A stifled sound from Rhysand pulls you out of your trance, blinking away a gentle intrusion you felt in your mind.

“I have a name, you know,” you remind him.

“I know.” Though his back is to you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

He turns to face you and you pick up on the telltale signs of subtle surrender in the slump of his shoulders. His wings vanish and your eyes trace down to his chest, where he cradles a feebly wrapped arm. A subdued darkness stains the light bandage. As your eyes lift back up to his face, his lips press together into a fine line.

“Come,” you say as you motion for him to sit. With a casual flick of your wrist, your first aid kit materializes from the pocket realm, settling gracefully onto his desk. “May I?”

Rhysand promptly slips his shirt off before extending his injured arm to you with a nod. You arch a brow. “You didn’t have to take off your shirt.”

“It’s warm here,” he protests, though a mischievous glint dances in those violet eyes of his. He leans back into his desk chair, manspreading those glorious sweat clad thighs of his. “Feel free to admire me, darling,” he smirks at you and you force yourself to look away only to catch his biceps tensing with purpose.

“You’re blushing.” He muses, his eyes tracing every nuance of your reaction.

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You retort, feigning nonchalance. Internally, you’re cursing the way your blush deepens and the way your stomach flutters at the sound of his laughter. It’s deep and alluring, wrapping around you like a sweet melody. You’d think after months of knowing him, you’d be immune to his shameless flirting.

Focus, you remind yourself as you do your best to ignore the playful smirk that continues to grace his luscious lips. So much for Azriel’s claim of Rhysand being in a mood. Whatever had soured his temper must’ve gone away, you think. Despite his injury, he looks perfectly fine to you.

You gently grasp his forearm and begin to unwrap the bandage carefully. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the warm, earthy undertones of his skin. Up close, the flush of his cheeks become more pronounced and the thin sheet of sweat glistens on his tattooed chest. Your keen eyes immediately pick up on the black ink trickling from the small wounds on his arm. Recognition dawns in your eyes.

“These are puncture wounds from a Puca.”

“Very astute of you, darling.”

A furrow appears on your brow as curiosity mingles with bewilderment. You can't fathom how a Puca, a dangerous creature that roams throughout Prythian, managed to get this close to someone as powerful and even more dangerous as Rhysand.

“What did it appear to you as?”

Rhysand's demeanor undergoes a shift. A-ha, there is that sour mood you had been expecting. Something akin to embarrassment flickers in the depths of his violet eyes. He instinctively pulls his arm back, but you tighten your hold, silently demanding an explanation.

"They say that a Puca uses your own desires to lure you and then eat you," you remark, your tone a mix of caution and concern.

Rhysand, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, hums thoughtfully. "Is that so?"

You drop your gaze as your hands fall into the familiar rhythm of tending to his injuries. “Azriel said you were in a mood so whatever it appeared to you as, must’ve been something for it to get you this go—“

“You.”

Confusion clouds your expression, and your glowing hands still. "What?"

You can feel the warmth of his gaze, a sharp intensity that lingers on you. "It appeared as you."

A moment of silence stretches between you two. The corner of Rhysand’s lips quirk up, the silver fleck of his violet irises sparkling with a mix of amusement and something more elusive. His gaze holds yours and there’s the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath his charismatic exterior. One you don’t catch.

"You flatter me," you finally say with a soft laugh, not believing him for one bit.

And all Rhysand can do is look at you in bewildered wonder as your hands continue to move with deliberate care. He needs to try harder.

Days later…

Come back home.

Those three words stare back at you. Haunting and persistent. "Home," you quietly muse to yourself. Dawn is your home. Or so you once believed.

A home is meant to be a sanctuary. A place of safety. A place of comfort. Over time, it transformed from your sweet haven into a source of distress. But if Dawn is no longer your home, then what is?

Is it the Night Court? You don't feel suffocated with high expectations here. The nights may be dark, but the stars shine their brightest here. They watch over you, listening to your silent whispers. There is a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows, almost like a sense of belonging.

You crumple the letter, the tangible weight of memories folding with it. Time is healing, you remind yourself. With a heavy sigh, you turn back to the stack of books and paperwork on your desk. Yesterday had been a slow day in the clinic so Madja asked for you to accompany her while she bought supplies. She treated you to a nice dinner afterwards. It was a much needed break but now, you found yourself behind in your studies and patient’s charts.

With a glance toward your desk candle, you use your powers to light it up. Leaning forward slightly, you fix your gaze on your first report with a strong determination to finish the stack by the end of your shift. No distra–

A knock echoes through the slightly ajar door.

Your office door is deliberately left open, a practice maintained for moments just like this - in case a patient requires urgent attention. While there’s a room in the clinic set up with rows of cots and medical equipment, your office provides an additional space for those seeking a more private examination.

"Hello, daybreak.”

Rhysand strides in, his easy confidence filling the small space of your office. You glance up only momentarily before returning your attention to the task at hand, responding with a dry humor that matches his tone.

"Hello, High Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Rhysand tilts his head, his gaze lingering on you. Moving with quiet elegance, he walks past the examination table and approaches your desk instead. His attention is immediately drawn to a book resting on top of one of the many stacks. A poetry book, he recognizes, adorned with a delicate cobalt blue ribbon.

“What’s this?”

“A gift from Azriel,” you reply casually and miss the way his face twists at the nonchalance of your tone.

Rhysand blinks at you. “A what?”

“A book. That Azriel got. For me.” You repeat, deliberately slower this time.

Rhysand heard you perfectly well the first time. His eyebrows knit together as he gazes at the book, a storm brewing in his expressive eyes. If looks could scorch, the innocent book would be reduced to a pile of ashes. Your birthday is months away and Solstice was weeks ago.

“I’m hurt.”

You look up, keen eyes glancing over his form again. “You don’t look hurt.”

Undeterred, he saunters closer, swiping a deliberate finger across the papers on your desk. "Come on, surely you can spare a moment for a poor High Lord in deep pain."

You inspect his outstretched hand, where a barely visible mark is displayed on his pointer finger. "It's a papercut," you deadpan.

“It hurts.”

"It's already healed."

Rhysand dramatically lets out a deep sigh and you suppress the urge to smile. The sound of a bell ringing–a sign that someone is in need of help–has you rising from your seat. You walk toward Rhysand, who continues to brood. Holding his gaze, you bring his hand to your mouth and press a light kiss right over where the papercut had been.

“There.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Feel better now?”

Every nerve in his body tingles with excitement, and there's a giddy flutter in his stomach. “Much better,” Rhysand breathes with a grin, savoring your touch.

He doesn’t allow your hand to drop, brushing it over his cheek instead and holding it there with his own. If you can’t see the flush to his cheeks, then surely you must be able to feel its warmth.

“How can I ever repay you?”

“You’re already paying me,” you remind him with a soft exhale, a laugh almost. The sound is music to Rhysand's ears and all his heart wants to do is dance to its rhythm. He realizes he can’t let this moment slip. Not when he finally has your full attention and a golden opportunity to seek more of it.

“You can come with me to the Midnight Eclipse ball.”

“Midnight Eclipse ball,” you repeat, your voice laced with intrigue, and Rhysand can't help but admire the way your eyes gleam with curiosity. “What is that?”

“Come with me and find out,” Rhysand replies, his eyes sparkling at you. He leans in closer, captivated by the softness of your gaze, and with a smile, he boldly adds, “As my date.”

“Your date?” you ask, your breath catching slightly.

Rhysand only hums in reply, taking pleasure in the way his cheek presses further against your hand as he does so. The look he gives you is almost pleading as he gazes down at you.

“Okay,” you finally say after a moment of silence with a small smile of your own. “I’ll join you. When is it?”

Rhysand beams down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and anticipation. Shifting his face in your hold, he presses a gentle kiss against the palm of your hand and now it is you who is overcome with a giddy flutter in your stomach. Rhysand, normally attuned to your every shift in expression, is too caught up in surprise to take note of it.

“Next Saturday,” he replies, holding your gaze.

The bell rings again, the sound prompting Rhysand to reluctantly let go of your hand. You give him an apologetic smile as you turn toward your desk, grabbing a couple of supplies. “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

You excuse yourself, walking around him to exit your office. Rhysand follows but chooses to lean against your doorframe, watching as you rush toward the infirmary.

“Don’t forget, it’s a date!” Rhysand calls after you, putting emphasis on the word ‘date.’

“Yes, I got it!” You reply, giving him a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner.

Rhysand smiles to himself. Though Saturday is almost five days away, he doesn’t mind the wait. Not when you just agreed to be his date. He looks down at the hand you kissed, closing it into a fist, overwhelmed with the giddy excitement building up inside him. You’re so utterly endearing. He brings his fist close to his mouth, suppressing the urge to bite it as he swoons over the thought of having you as his date for the Midnight Eclipse ball.

Reality begins to set in and his smile widens into a grin. Now, he has to plan the ball he literally just made up…

a/n: tbh, I don't know how I feel about this part. I feel like I set up expectations too high for myself because I really loved how the first part turned out and this part is kinda meh to me. anyway, I hope you still enjoyed this. I'm looking forward to writing the other part(s) as those include scenes I've had in my head for weeeeeeks lol. (You'll finally learn the little secret or two reader is hiding in the next part...any guesses? )I estimate only like 1-2 parts left, depending on how long the next part is.

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030, @nebarious, @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #rhys wby au

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secret-smut-sideblog · 2 months

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Pillow Talk

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ complicated/developing feelings, intimacy, heavy petting, urgent sex, dry humping, public sex (kinda), dirty talk, coming in pants (m!), implied trauma, miscommunication, tenderness, porn w/o plot

Tav innocently offered to help Astarion with his morning routine. But things get very close, and Astarion is shocked how her sweet face belies the sinful mouth she has...

"So you fill in your eyeline, right?"

He looked up from his book.

"Pardon?"

She was wiping the stray blood off of her neck with her fingers. Startling him when they slid into her mouth.

They had struck up a routine, he drank and she stayed to chat or just lay in quiet in his tent for a while.

This platonic exchange was new to him, but he found it surprisingly comfortable. Even looking forward to seeing her. Big doe eyes peeking under the flap of his tent, asking for entry.

She pointed good naturedly at him, licking her fingers clean. His eyes locked on her mouth.

"Your eyes. Your lashes are naturally white, yeah?"

They were, but he was a mite distracted.

Tav was... deceptive in nature. All eyes and lips. Her voice a bright chirp. Freckles and dimples. A beauty that was fit to the innocence of summer.

But as he got to know her found that she was more debauched. Always willing to cause chaos, down for anything.

Even shocking him sometimes with the things that would come out of her pouty flushed lips.

The contrast was... interesting.

"Why do you ask?" He intoned, looking back to his book in feigned disinterest.

"Well, I could help. It must be hard without a mirror."

"Interesting. And what would you gain from this exchange?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not trying to fuck you Astarion."

He blinked.

She had brushed off his advances by turning the tables before. He came at her with honeyed words and she called his bluff, upping the ante with crude huffed words in his ear until he walked away flustered.

It vexed him to no end. To not only be bested but also how her words shot straight to his groin.

"You sure about that?" He smirked, unable to help himself.

She smiled Cheshire at him. Started pulling her shirt open. "You want me to make you scream, Astarion?" The last of her words coming out a loud moan. A dare.

"Would you pipe down?" He admonished, voice coming out a harsh whisper.

She giggled, closing her shirt again. The sliver of the curve of her breast hidden again.

His ears were flushed, closing his book.

She sat back, legs tucked under her. All innocent again.

"So...?" She sing-songed.

"Okay, fine." He huffed, acting terribly put upon.

"Yay!" She chirped.

He bit back the smile forming on his lips.

"If you so insist, you can assist me in the morning. Now begone from me, demon."

She giggled again, high rising bells. Waving her fingers at him as she retreated from his tent.

Gods, what a nuisance.

Completely ignoring the tightness in his leathers he blew out the candle.

The sounds of morning accosted him, groaning in his tent.

He lifted the flap to get some air but laid back down with a dramatic flop.

From the window of his tent, he watched his campmates mill around.

Only Karlach excitedly preparing for her day, greeting with big smiles and hands clasped on shoulders. Everyone else a smeared facsimile of alertness.

Tav was still in her long sleep shirt, but mostly put together. Hair in a long plait down her back, face washed. Talking to Halsin, though he couldn't hear their conversation. Halsin's eyes gazing down at her in clear desire.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him, basically standing on tiptoes.

At one point, she lifted her arms to stretch above her head.

He saw the druids eyes dip to her arched chest hungrily then back up to her eyes, carrying on the conversation.

Astarion felt a heat in his chest. Then shook his head.

This was none of his concern. She was beautiful, of course their campmates wanted her.

She looked over, seeing his tent open. Her eyes brightening. Opening her mouth to say something to Halsin then bouncing away towards him.

He saw how the druids face slightly fell and felt a petty thrill in his chest.

"Good morning~" She sung. "May I come in?"

It felt good, if not foreign, to be asked permission.

"Of course, darling."

She climbed inside with a little wiggle.

He turned to his chest, pulling the small washbasin out.

As he began his morning routine, she laid on the floor of his tent, snuggling down into his newly freed blankets with a happy sigh.

She had to know how adorable she was.

He reveled these moments, where it was just them in a comfortable silence. It was intimate, but in a way that didn't make him feel like he was drowning.

He rubbed his face clear, his unmade hair falling down into his forehead. Sighing.

"What I wouldn't give for a working mirror." He grumbled.

"Well, let me see. I'll paint you a picture." She smiled, looking up at him from his bedroll.

Though he couldn't see himself, he suddenly felt exposed. Knowing his face was bare, his curly hair free of pomade and unruly from sleep.

He turned and looked down at her with a slight frown.

She sat up and took him in.

Of course she looked radiant. Her bare face giving her an even more entrancing layer of beauty.

He tried to not squirm under her gaze.

"Well, your eyes are very beautiful like this, the contrast of red and white suits you. Your lips are full and arched. Jaw sharp."

Her eyes drifting up to his hair. Tilting her head and smiling wide, her dimples on display.

"And your hair is so cute like this. Like a big sheep." She giggled.

"I am not a big sheep." He huffed. "How dare you."

She bit her lip, still smiling at him. "Altogether very handsome. It's a good look on you."

He suddenly wanted to kiss her and blinked away the thought in shock.

"So are you going to let me do your eyeliner now?" She asked, clearly excited.

"You know what you're doing?" He asked, handing her the smudging pencil.

"Just because I don't usually wear makeup while trudging through the woods doesn't mean I don't know how to use it." She teased.

"Well some of us can afford to take less effort it seems."

"Careful, that was dangerously close to a compliment." She laughed. "Here, lay back."

He laid against some propped pillows and she straddled over him.

Her face coming over his, gently holding his head still.

He knew she meant nothing by the position or the closeness. But his heart still phantom pounded.

"Look up." She hushed, lining the bottom of his eye with sure hands.

"You know, I get why you feel strange about your appearance." She spoke softly, face stern in concentration.

"People are weird about me too. Most people only give me the time of the day if they want to fuck me."

His eyes had drifted up to the roof of his tent but came back to hers at that.

"Fuck me then forget me. Thought that was how things were going to be for me for a long time."

She sighed. "Maybe it still is. If we didn't have tadpoles to keep us together I think half the camp would be culpable."

She had taken the air out of his lungs. Unknowingly mirroring his own thoughts to him.

"Sorry, that's not your problem." She murmured, switching to his other eye. Her tongue sticking slighty out of her mouth in concentration.

It wasn't, and yet he felt guilty. After all, he still was planning to seduce her. It hadn't been working, but still.

"And what if someone wanted to be with you and stick around?" He hushed.

She looked at him, pausing. Then smiling sadly.

"I don't know. I've never gotten that far." She shrugged. "Could be nice. Or a nuisance, depending on the person."

He laughed low in his throat.

"Okay, done." She leaned back, admiring her work.

"Oh, wait." She hushed, leaning forward again, lips so close to his he could feel their heat. Fingers smudging gently along the outer corner of his eye.

He leaned up thoughtlessly and slid his lips against hers.

She froze in shock, then slowly leaned into him. Moaning softly.

He cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her into him. Suddenly hungry and needful.

Aware of the tent flap still open, he turned his body over hers, shielding her from view.

Didn't need all of their companions spying on them, did they?

They pulsed into each other, all heat and slick. Tongues twisting, desperate pulls of hands. Panting.

His mind was full of nothing but spinning desire. A heady miasma of need.

He couldn't maintain decorum anymore.

With an impatient huff he kicked the tent wall, the flap falling closed.

Pulling his shirt off of his head he dove back into her. Lost in her velvet mouth, the lamb's ear skin of her thighs. All the soft little sounds she was making, sweet bird cries.

His hands pushed under her sleep shirt, gripping onto her plush hips. Pulling her into him with a low moan. Grinding his hard length into her soaked underclothes.

Her head fell back, gasping out choppy breaths.

He could tell she was trying to be quiet and it ignited more flames in his pelvis.

"Do keep your voice down, darling." He teased in her ear. Pushing her sleep shirt up more, cupping her breast.

She leaned forward and ran her tongue up the point of his ear, panting hot.

His eyes hitched back, groaning.

"I thought we were being quiet." She teased.

Evil. Evil woman.

"Oh, you're being nasty again?" He chided, hips rolling of their own accord now.

He was trying to maintain the upper hand here but he was flushed and panting. His purpose narrowed down to getting more, more, more.

"Oh you want nasty?" She purred.

She pulled on the waistband of his leathers, pulling him into her harder. Hips meeting his in time.

"How would you want me if we fucked? Hmm maybe you would bury your cock in my throat and let my sweet tongue lap at your underside till I was gasping."

Oh Gods.

His eyes squeezed shut, hips pistoning into her.

"Mmm, or maybe you'd want me on all fours, my slick greedy cunt taking your cock. Slamming your hips into my ass, seeing it jiggle with your thrusts."

She pulled his hand to her ass to make her point, suckling down on his ear.

He bit back a moan, hand gripping into the round plush flesh of her ass. Panting into her neck, bending her leg out with his. Pulling her open for him.

"Hmm, maybe not those." She hushed into the shell of his ear. "Maybe you want me to lick your nipple, suckling it in my hot tongue. Lave my tongue over your chest until your arching your back so pretty for me."

His breath caught in his throat, cock unbearably hard. Hips stuttering into her.

"Ohh," She smiled, looping a leg around his hip. "That's it."

She pulled down with her leg, his hips melded with hers now.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair she pulled taut, bending his neck open.

He was dangerously close, the hair pull nearly sending him over. Stifling the moan caught in the back of his throat.

"How hard would you shake for me when I fucked my fingers into you? Milking the agonizing pleasure from you. Spilling your spend in gushes on my bouncing tits."

He whimpered, gripping down into her hips and began spilling in thick ropes. Biting down into her shoulder to not cry out. Hard pulsing strikes of near tortuous pleasure. Ripping up through his body with merciless talons.

She held him steady as he shattered over her. Hushing encouragement into his ear.

His eyes had started to water, a lump suddenly in his throat. Startling himself.

He allowed himself one more moment of her warmth before pulling away. Sitting up and facing away from her. Forcing his breath slow and even.

"Hey," Her voice soft, pulling close to him but not touching. "Was that too much? I'm sorry."

"No, you were devine darling. Just needed to catch my breath. You wore me out, you wicked thing."

He held his hand hard to his chest, steadying himself. You're safe. You're here. You're safe.

She was quiet behind him, then planted a soft kiss on the curve of his shoulder, rising up.

"I've overstayed my welcome." She said knowingly. "Sorry. I'll be out of your hair in a second."

He wanted to tell her that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. He actually wanted her to stay, lay in that quiet again. But his body was all sharp edges, bristling.

She slid his shirt back to him and left his tent. "I'll keep my distance from now on, don't worry."

The way she said it, with a certainty of wrongdoing, like accepting a punishment. His heart ached for a moment.

Like she had wronged him.

The sweet thing.

No. No, he would find a way to fix this.

Part 2

#yes this is inspired by that photo of the two girls straddling eachother doing makeup. SHUT UP #astarion smut #astarion x tav #screenshot by @darlingpetra #lyrics from: metaphor - the crane wives

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meiieiri · 8 months

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water’s edge | concept dump

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ warnings: mean!gojo (but that’s not even the worst of it oh my god what monstrosity have i created), arranged marriage, illness, allusions to criminal activity that may include reckless homicide, physical battery and attempted murder. mentions of depression, cheating, physical and emotional abuse, trauma, adultery. fictional depiction of the japanese imperial family, etc.

LINK TO FULL FIC MASTERLIST HERE!

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who is the only son of the emperor and empress of Japan, the beloved and long-awaited child of his parents. As a child, he had been showered with endless praise and veneration as the one, true, legitimate heir to the chrysanthemum throne. The entire imperial household had expected the prince to inherit an unwavering sense of duty to the crown and to his people much like his fore-bearers, only to be severely disappointed when the prince turns out to be a pathological card shark with ambiguous morals, and a serial womanizer who has slept with countless women from aristocratic backgrounds during the height of his bachelor years.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who finally incurs his father’s wrath after a nasty bar brawl that leads to him getting unceremoniously arrested and is stripped of his title and properties as crown prince, favoring his half-brother, Prince Suguru Geto, who had been born of the emperor’s affair with one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting. This incident has prompted his mother, the empress, to help in ratifying his public image by arranging Satoru to marry a commoner with an impeccable standing in Japanese society in a bid to re-portray Satoru as a responsible, married man. The empress, in turn, offers to grant you, Satoru’s future wife-to-be, anything your heart could ever desire.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who engages in a pantomime act of being a loving husband to you during a state banquet by showering you with endless praise in his speech addressed to all the world leaders in the Akasaka Palace’s reception hall. When he was asked to introduce you, his new wife, the honeyed words came so easily to him. “You see, the princess (Y/N) is no ordinary woman,” he chuckles into the microphone causing the guests to giggle at the sight of what looks to be a bashful newlywed.

“Other than being the first breath of fresh air our family has ever had the pleasure of knowing in so long, and the most active member in our family when it comes to supporting the many royal charities and foundations, she is…” he trails off. You dared to follow the wandering gaze of your husband, who seems to be searching for another pair of eyes in the room. His eyes eventually stop their search, softening at the sight of the one he loved. For a second, you think he is looking at you, and your heart naively skips a beat in your chest as if all these months of inattention and animosity were finally coming to an end.

“…My better half, the keeper of my own heart.”

Many of the ambassador’s wives who sat beside you nudged you in congratulations for being so blessed with such a devoted husband. You crane your head back to smile warmly at them for the kind words only to have ice coat your veins instantly when you see his Chief-of-Staff, Himiko Zenin, sitting about two seats behind you, staring directly at your husband with a wistful look in her eyes, exchanging words of love in a silent oath — one that is far more certain than the rising and the setting of the sun as each day passes with your husband hating you a tad bit more than yesterday, and one that is far more truthful than the wedding vows you shared.

Of course, writing this godforsaken death march-like speech was easy for Satoru, simply because these words of devotion and love were never intended for you anyway; this poetic spiel was written with another woman ensnaring his mind.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who sneaks out of bed during your wedding night, sparing one last cold glance at your sleeping form before he saunters out the imperial villa to meet his girlfriend in a nearby mountain resort, about half a mile away from the villa. His personal chauffeur had been sworn to secrecy, else, he would incur the wrath of the crown prince.

“I thought you couldn’t get away,” Himiko moans wantonly into his mouth as he roughly takes her from behind, the lewd wet sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the room. He had taken the liberty of secretly bringing Himiko along to your honeymoon, by booking the most expensive suite in the resort for her under another name.

“The bitch is too fucked out to even notice I’m gone— mmph—“ he throws his head back, releasing a pleasured groan when Himiko meets his sharp thrusts, grinding teasingly on his cock as she does so. He grips her hips tightly, readjusting his hips to pound into her from another angle, the muscles on his abs tightening as he gets lost in the feeling of her tight, luscious walls. “Sh-shit, ‘m-m gonna cum—“

“—Ah! S-Satoru,” she was close too, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as the fat tip of his member roughly prods at her cervix.

He half-expected Himiko to be angry with him for engaging in intimate acts with you, but she simply acts like she didn’t hear him. And even if she was upset, why should he, of all people, apologize? She should have known that becoming his mistress entailed having to endure these kinds of things as these were simply Satoru’s marital duties, and by extension, his duty to the crown.

His high washes over him like a tidal wave crashing into the rock shore, grunting as he involuntarily thrusts as he releases inside her, Himiko collapsing onto the pillows as he does. “O-oh, haaa- agh,” his deep tenor moans into her long black hair as his seed paints her walls, holding her close to his form, their heartbeats racing a million miles an hour.

He pulls out his flaccid cock, plopping down next to her, pulling her small frame for her head to rest on his chest. “I just need to have father reinstate me as heir apparent and return all my estates, then,” he kisses her once, his lips moving in sync with her soft ones.

“…We’ll get rid of her.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who blatantly and publicly humiliates you by bringing along Himiko Zenin to a state visit to the imperial family’s counterpart in Monaco rather than you, his rightful wife. And when asked of your whereabouts, Satoru simply replies with a casual shrug, his hand squeezing Himiko’s smaller ones as she usurps the banquet thrown in your honor by the Monacan royal family while you watch the horrific scene unfold on your television screen, your heart shattering into a million pieces as Himiko and Satoru uncaringly waltz with one another in front of the watchful eyes of the entire world throughout the evening.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who crucifies you for your acts of sincere charity, believing you to be actively humiliating Himiko despite having no intentions whatsoever resembling his baseless accusation. “Did you honestly think your little publicity antics would go unpunished? I bet you were just itching for the attention, weren’t you?” he snarls at you the second you come back from a visit to one of the hospitals you had commissioned for the treatment of children with rare diseases, a compassionate act which had been heavily televised by national broadcasting stations and even international news agencies. “If you wish to compete with Himiko, wife, then, by all means. But I swear to you, I will do everything — everything I can — to make the entire world know just how much of an opportunistic whore you are—”

You gaze up at your husband with fear in your eyes. “…I was not competing with Himiko, can I not care for our people — your people? I’m sure they need someone to promote their interests when their own prince couldn’t be bothered to do so!” you retaliate but are quickly shot down when he throws his scotch glass at the wall, causing you to flinch when it shatters on impact.

“I will make sure this humiliation you dealt to Himiko will return to you tenfold, (Y/N),” he dangerously seethes, coming to the aid of his mistress. “Celebrate your victory all you want, wife, but make no mistake, this is far from over.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who indifferently scoffs when you crumble into a sobbing mess after yet another argument with him. “W-what can I do to make you not hate me so much? P-please tell me, Satoru.” The only response you receive is your husband dangerously moving closer to you, his eyes, dark with pure loathing. Instinctively, you step backward, only to be met by the cold wall of your shared bedroom. “S-Satoru—“

“—Here’s what you can do: do exactly as I say, without question,” he traps you between his arms, his breath hot on your skin, his lips dangerously close to yours, his voice dripping with the venom that could turn every silver thread in your heart into a hue that resembled charcoal black. “If I tell you to kiss me, you kiss me. If I tell you to get out, you get out. If I tell you to shut up, you sew your mouth shut or rip your tongue out, I really don’t give a damn. If I tell you to die…”

…

“…You drop dead.”

a/n: meh, just wrote this at the top of my head to get rid of this stupid writer’s block since hehe i have like eighteen drafts of jjk smut and drabbles in my tumblr folder rn help :’)

might turn this into a multi-chapter fic depending on how it is received. so lemme know your thoughts by reblogging, liking or commenting on this post!

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x reader

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hesbianspock · 1 month

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ok francis rawdon moira crozier post: everyone’s always (rightly) repeating the “irish and middle born” line but i really don’t see talk about it beyond that — except maybe having him spit some irish gaelic while he fucks fitzjames in a fic, and i guarantee you that man would not have been a fluent irish speaker (see: efforts from both the english and from irish communities to prevent people from speaking irish). and as part of that i’d like to see more discussion of francis’ betrayal of who he is and where he comes from.

he is irish. the famine has just begun. he spends his life attempting to rise through the ranks of, to be a successful arm of, the empire that has ensured his status as a second class citizen, his inability to speak his ancestral language, the genocide of his countrymen. francis has his assertive personality and his vocal objections and his challenges, but ultimately he’s betrayed the very essence of who he is and only does it further upon destroying himself with alcohol — because to the empire, what else would an irishman do?

and he has so little genuine self awareness about it. deep inside himself, in his subconscious, i’m sure he knows. but he could never begin to Truly know it within the conscious or to actually vocalize it. bc how do you even begin to acknowledge or make sense of this about your ENTIRE LIFE?

and ofc this parallels with james and with hickey. pretending to be something you’re not, betraying the very essence of what you are. hiding. he doesn’t know it but THAT is the basis of his initial resentment of those two: they’re betraying themselves.

because to him, at first, hickey is an irishman who has so fully committed to the betrayal he won’t even speak in a way that implies his origin. hickey thinks this double deception makes them comrades, but in reality, would francis really have had hickey punished As A Boy if not for their first exchange? would hickey have mocked francis’ irishness from the gallows if not for the failure of that disguise, this betrayal of a perceived countryman?

the full extent of james’ betrayal is hidden to francis until the cairn but he still sees it, and he sees himself in it. the obedience, the obsequience, the ambition, the admiration, (the queerness,)

so when james confesses his bastardry, his non englishness, his deception, even if francis did not now love him, how could he ever hold it against him? he’s done worse.

and, perhaps most significantly, paralleling that with silna. francis helping the empire to colonize and imperialize other places as ireland was. silna avoiding and almost rejecting her duty for nearly the entirety of the show, seeking shelter with and in some cases allying with the interlopers she despises and who have ruined her life. Tuunbaq Is Dead.

#just Thots And Analysis #francis crozier #silna #james fitzjames #cornelius hickey #the terror

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voidpetrova · 8 months

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wyocmwyh? — nate jacobs x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: reader is a bigger jackass than nate, swearing, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, marijuana consumption — smut/angst

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: he's been full of issues for as long as he could remember, and you were aware of his reputation. the last thing anybody has expected when you started hooking up—was for him to get a taste of his own medicine

✧.*

he didn't know what to expect, talking to his friends about you. mckay and the others weren't sure how to feel about you, not that they knew much. just that you were a knockout, and that you and nate had been seeing each other for a while now. they supported their friend, listening to his rants and ongoing rambling about how you were the first woman to change him, he had started to turn over a new leaf. to be fair, they weren't aware that you had other intentions.

nate jacobs, the enigmatic figure who had once reveled in the shadows of manipulation and deceit, found himself drawn into the web of your allure. it was a mystery even to himself, how your presence had shaken the very foundations of his carefully constructed world. in the past, he had been the puppet master, the maestro of control, orchestrating lives to dance to his wicked tune. but now, he was dancing to a melody entirely of your making, and he didn't know how to stop.

as he sat with his friends in a dimly lit corner of their favorite hangout spot, the neon lights casting an ethereal glow on their faces, nate couldn't help but talk about you. his voice, once laced with arrogance, had softened into a tone of wonder and vulnerability.

“guys, you won't believe it,” he began, his words infused with an unusual sincerity that caught the attention of his friends. “(y/n), she's really something else.” mckay, his closest confidant, exchanged a knowing glance with roy, silently acknowledging that nate was treading on unfamiliar terrain. they had witnessed his conquests, his manipulation, and his cunning schemes, but never had they seen him like this—bewildered, captivated, and undeniably smitten. “she's different, man,” he continued, his gaze distant as if lost in a reverie of your image. “i don't know what it is, but every moment i spend with her, it's like i'm discovering a whole new side of myself.”

troy, the street-savvy yet compassionate friend, leaned forward, curiosity etching his features. “nate, you sound like you're in deep. what's so special about her?” his lips curved into a faint smile, a testament to the genuine feelings you had stirred within him. “everything, man. she's smart, funny, and beautiful, sure, but it's more than that. when i'm with her, it's like i'm not the same person. i want to be better, for her.”

cassie, who had once been entangled in nate's web of deception, watched him intently, her heart a peculiar mix of relief and apprehension. she had seen the damage he could cause, yet she couldn't help but hope that you truly had the power to change him for the better.

as the night wore on, nate's friends listened to his impassioned monologue about you, how he felt like he was falling in love. they offered their support, unaware of the hidden motives that lurked beneath the surface of your relationship. in their minds, this was a story of redemption, a narrative of a man transformed by love. little did they know that you were the puppet master now, pulling the strings in a clandestine game of your own design. nate was merely a pawn in your intricate plan, a taste of his own medicine, while he unknowingly surrendered his heart to you, falling deeper into the snare you had skillfully woven.

amidst the haze of dimly lit conversations, the sultry aroma of late-night revelry, and the comforting embrace of his friends' camaraderie, nate's phone buzzed on the table. he fished it out of his pocket, his gaze lingering on the screen as your name illuminated the darkness. without a second thought, he answered, the anticipation palpable in his voice. “hey, (y/n). what's up?” on the other end of the line, your voice held a carefree, almost nonchalant quality that was starkly different from the emotional depth he had been discussing earlier. “hey, natey,” you purred, your words languid, as if drifting through a cloud of smoke. “i was thinking it's been a while since we hung out. wanna come over? got something that might make the night more interesting.”

nate's curiosity was piqued, and he glanced at his friends, their expressions a mix of amusement and intrigue. he shrugged, trying to act cool, as if your request was nothing out of the ordinary. “sure, why not? i'll be there in a bit.” as he hung up the call, he couldn't help but notice how his newfound sense of vulnerability clashed with your seemingly carefree demeanor. it was as though you were operating on a different wavelength, a wavelength that had suddenly shifted the dynamic between you two.

minutes later, nate arrived at your doorstep, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. he was met by the hazy glow of dimly lit candles, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the room. the scent of something herbal hung in the air, mingling with the faint notes of incense. you were sprawled on the couch, smoke tendrils swirling around you as you took a languid drag from a joint, your eyes half-lidded and distant. when you saw nate, your lips curled into a slow, seductive smile.

“hey, babe,” you drawled, your voice low and sultry. “come join me.” he had hesitated for a moment, his analytical mind trying to make sense of the stark contrast between your current persona and the person he had been gushing about to his friends just moments ago. but the pull of your presence was undeniable, and he sank into the couch beside you.

as he took the joint from your outstretched hand and inhaled deeply, the world seemed to melt away, and he felt himself slipping into a state of euphoria. the weed wrapped its gentle tendrils around his consciousness, leaving him feeling strangely warm and at ease. you leaned closer, your fingers tracing an absent-minded pattern on his thigh, and he couldn't help but notice how the haze in your eyes had transformed into something altogether different. it was a vulnerability he hadn't seen in you before, a tenderness that seemed to mirror the emotions he had been expressing earlier.

in that moment, as the room swirled around them and the intoxicating effects of the joint continued to envelop them, nate found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn't explain. he had come seeking a taste of your enigmatic allure, but now he was discovering a depth to you that transcended the surface. unbeknownst to him, the lines between manipulation and genuine emotion were becoming increasingly blurred, and the intricate game you had set in motion was taking an unexpected turn.

nate's bruising grip on your hip tightened as your knees buckled, making you stay upright and exactly where he had placed you, making sure that you could feel the way he split your pussy open. the wet squelching of your cunt urged on the filthy words coming for his lips and the moans that left his mouth, filling your ears as he held onto your ass, groping it with an ulterior motive of possessiveness. you were enjoying it, with much difference from the normal way that you two would have sex. with much softer touches that wouldn't leave green and purple marks for the days after or guilty looks from you for even doing this to him, using him—never letting him know it.

a shocked moan came from you as nate moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing fast and tight circles with his other hand, barely nudging from the squirming that you were doing. only loud, growled out words came from him, loud enough for you to hear him and for more and more shockwaves to build in your stomach, adding to your release.

the nirvana of the mindless self-indulgence clashing with the exruciatingly hard orgasms produced something mesmerizing. nate came, filling you up with his hot, sticky seed and, in that moment, his grip loosened. his tight, possessive touch had been replaced with a sweet tenderness that even you had noticed. he came with a moan, as did you, your juices dripping down his shaft as the balloon in your stomach finally popped. the euphoria didn't last forever, it never did. it had come to his knowledge that whatever it was he was feeling for you, relished in a sense of unrequited feelings. he didn't know it at first, but he figured it out rather quickly, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“i love you, (y/n),” he was met with silence, something he wasn't used to. he was used to girls throwing themselves at his feet, knowing how little he cared for them. this time, it was different. for the first time in forever, he wished he could take it back, the silence deafening. the only thing he could hear was the way his heart shattered from within.

#euphoria #euphoria imagine #euphoria fanfiction #euphoria angst #euphoria smut #euphoria fluff #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs fanfiction #nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs smut #nate jacobs angst #nate jacobs fluff #nate jacobs x reader smut #nate jacobs euphoria #euphoria nate smut

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itsyourvalerie · 3 months

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Hello! I know not a lot of people like him because yk but may I request a Valentino x Female Reader romance?

Like basically the hazbin hotel crew was figuring out how to get Angel Dust out of his contract with Valentino and they decide to go to Reader because Angel said that shes the most cooperating vee-

So reader is one of the vees and is a dance choreographer and owns the souls of her dancers

And while the hazbin crew is on their way to her studio they don't know that the three other vees are there watching the reader teaching her dancers

Yeah the crew got there and Angel spotted the vees there so the crew tried not to get noticed and eventually saw the reader just dancing with demons behind her trying to copy her

They overheard the vees conversation and just Valentino worshipping the reader and the crew is just shocked of Valentino's relationship with the reader, pretty please 😇🤗

Also Val and Reader are in a relationship :p

Thank youu! ❤

HI MY LOVE!! im so sorry this request took so long i have been thinking how to put it together and i still don't quite like the way it came out and im sorry if its not what you imagined. Hope you like it tho ❤️

---

Valentino x female reader

warnings: none

---

As the Hazbin Hotel crew (minus alastor, because he could care less) ventured through the bustling streets of Hell, their mission weighed heavily on their minds. They were determined to free Angel Dust from his nefarious contract with Valentino, and they knew that their best chance lay with y/n, one of the notorious "Vees" known for her cooperation with the underworld's elite.

Unknown to them, y/n was not only a Vee but also a dance choreographer, revered for her captivating performances and owning the souls of her loyal dancers. As they approached her studio, they were unaware of the presence of the other Vees lurking in the shadows.

Inside the studio, y/n stood at the center of the room, her graceful movements commanding the attention of her demonic dancers.

As Angel Dust spotted the other Vees observing from the sidelines, a wave of apprehension washed over him. He signaled this friends to keep quiet, not wanting to draw attention to their presence.

They watched in silence as y/n danced, her movements fluid and mesmerizing. But their focus soon shifted as they overheard the Vees' conversation, filled with unsettling praises and worshipping of y/n by none other than Valentino himself.

"Isn't she divine?" Vox whispered eagerly, his eyes gleaming with admiration as he stared at the dancing female.

Valentino's voice cut through the air like a sinister whisper, a smirk on his face and a cigarette between his two fingers, his tone laced with reverence. "She's a masterpiece, a true gem of Hell. I've never seen anything quite like her." He praised.

Shock and disbelief washed over Angel and everyone else (even Vox and Velvette) as they listened to Valentino's twisted admiration for y/n, realizing the extent of his influence over her and the dangerous game she was unwittingly playing.

As the vees continued their conversation, discussing the power and prestige that came with being in y/n's favor, the Hazbin crew exchanged worried glances. They knew they had to tread carefully if they were to stand any chance of freeing Angel Dust from Valentino's grasp, now that y/n was in the game.

But amidst the chaos and deception, one thing became clear: y/n was not just a vee caught in Valentino's web—she was a key player in the intricate dance of power and manipulation that defined life in Hell. And if the crew wanted to free Angel Dust from his contract, they would need to navigate this treacherous dance with caution and cunning. Which meant to get y/n's help as soon as possible.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x oc #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #Valentino hazbin hotel x reader #valentino #valentino x you #hazbin hotel x female reader

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zoeysdamn · 5 months

Text

"Is that a ring?" - Knight!Nikolaï x reader

A/N: you know what I love with @corpsebasil Knight Nikolaï AU? Crushing angst and secret lovers/marriage trope, yes. I wrote angst already so let'ssssssssss goooooo

absolutely self-indulgent, I'm weak okay

“Is that a ring, Sir Nikolaï?”

The question came out from the mouth of the lady-in-waiting with a gasp and made every head in the room swirl to the knight. Looking up from the handkerchief he just picked up, Sir Nikolaï found himself lost for words. When the piece of fabric dropped from the edge of your lap, he couldn’t help himself but practically dropped on his knees to catch it and bring it back to you. What a devoted knight he was to his princess. And one of the maidens clearly noticed the glimmering band around his finger.

You couldn’t help but to let out a faint giggle behind your hand. Just as quick, the knight recomposed himself with his usual polite smile.

“Ah, yes, it seems that it is indeed, miss Ankorov,” Nikolaï agreed politely, his natural nonchalance back as he straightened himself.

Your ladies in waiting exchanges confused looks and giggles at the newly found information. Sir Nikolaï, the most dedicated, handsome, sworn to celibacy and never once seduced knight, had a ring on his finger? Since when?

As the ladies exchanged hushed whispers among themselves, you shot an amused look at Nikolaï. He answered back with a quick wink without anyone else noticing. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“I didn’t realize that wearing a piece of jewelry would be so disturbing,” Sir Nikolaï chuckled charmingly – eliciting more giggles from some of the women in the room. “I apologize for the turbulence, ladies.”

“Not at all!” assured one of them, blushing in embarrassment, “It’s just that…well…”

“We are quite surprised to see you wearing such a ring on that particular finger,” quipped another, wiggling her eyebrows a little to her embarrassed colleague. “Is it what we think it is?”

“And what do you ladies think it is?”

Chuckling softly, you hid your amusement by taking another sip of your tea. This should be an interesting exchange to watch, you thought. One of the ladies noticed your amused smile and gasped softly.

“Do you know what it is, your majesty?” she inquired, greedy for the gossip.

Setting your tea cup slowly, you raised an eyebrow to the blonde knight. “Actually, I don’t. Would you please be so kind as to enlighten us about that infamous ring of yours, Sir Nikolaï?”

He bit back a smile at your feigned confusion, while the ladies in the room looked at him with expectation – knowing that Sir Nikolaï would never refuse a demand from the princess. So he straightened his back and put on the most charming smile of his.

“It was given to me by someone very dear to my heart, ladies.”

Of course his carefully picked, provocative chosen words made another round of hushed shrieks erupted among the handmaidens. Even you feigned a shocked gasp – very useful to hide your giggles at how easy it was for him to mess around your poor ladies-in-waiting’s brains. All of their minds clearly got into certain places very fast. And yet, by the magic of etiquette, none of them dared to ask the infamous – scandalous question.

“Someone dear to your heart?” repeated one of them, giddy with gossip.

“Indeed”, nodded Nikolaï, still collected and professional as ever. Oh, how he was making them stall with the small answers.

“May we inquire who? Or maybe you’re bound by secrecy by that love of yours, Sir?” giggled the youngest lady, filled with romance novels thoughts.

The question elicited a soft chuckle from the knight. Thankfully none of the other ladies in the room noticed it, but it came with a warm twinkle of affection in his eyes.

He bowed slightly, disguising his smile to the eager ladies-in-waiting.

“I’m only sworn to my lady,” he smoothly said, “I’m afraid she’s the only one I can truly be faithful to, sorry ladies.”

Some of the ladies pouted, deception draping over their features. “So there’s no one?”

As an answer, Sir Nikolaï offered them an apologetic smile. “I would be a poor excuse of a knight if I vowed my life to someone other than my Lady.”

The ladies in waiting groaned at his words, disappointed by the lack of juicy gossip after all. Soon, the topic drifted to something else entirely, and Sir Nikolaï’s ring was long forgotten. Maybe it was a family heirloom from his mother after all? It would make sense. But fortunately for the knight, the ladies in waiting’s mind ended up filled with other things as the afternoon passed. Ultimately, the ladies had to leave and bid their goodbyes with a respectful bow. Once they exited the room and the door closed, you let out a long sight, as you got up on your feet. Those afternoons with your ladies in waiting were great, but sitting for hours had your legs tingling. Stretching your legs you moved to the window, eager to feel a bit of natural light. Still, the best feeling was the warmth of Sir Nikolaï’s hands on your shoulders, sliding to hold you close as he pressed a kiss on your temple. You leaned on his chest, humming at the peaceful sensation the embrace brought. When a ray of light caught the surface of the golden band on his finger, a fond smile graced your lips.

“So,” you started teasing softly, “tell me about this someone dear to your heart, Sir Nikolaï.”

The blonde knight chuckled, nuzzling his nose in your neck.

“You’re never gonna let this down, are you?”

“Never,” you smiled. “Please oh good sir, tell me more about this dear lady of yours,” you asked dramatically.

Sir Nikolaï laughed lightly, gently turning you around to face him. Your breath stopped for a second when your eyes caught his, and the pure look of adoration he seemed to always have when he looked at you, no matter how many times he did.

“Well,” he started softly, “she’s a sight. She’s kind, brave, beautiful, and has quite a good taste, if I may add.”

A light laugh escaped you at his last comment, and Nikolaï’s smile got even wider at the sound of it. Saints, your laugh.

Another ray of the soft late afternoon light glimpsed on your collarbone, catching his eye. His fingers delicately pinched the glimmering surface, pulling on the thin, almost invisible to the eye, golden chain. No one ever noticed it, but he knew it was here, almost burning and begging him through your dresses and delicate silk tops. And when a golden, delicately carved gold ring looped around the chain finally emerged from the censoring fabrics, he felt his heart soar with joy.

“It appears you also do have someone dear to your heart, my lady,” he smiled softly.

You grinned as you nuzzled yourself close to his chest, “I do, dear husband, I do.”

His lips caught yours in a loving and long awaited kiss as soon as the words left your mouth – and you gladly responded to it with a smile.

Unlike your beloved knight of a spouse, you couldn’t wear your ring in public. Sure, you had other rings, but this one would certainly be suspicious. So you wore it underneath your clothes, always close to your heart ; until you can one day wear it on your hand, just where Nikolaï had put it when he married you in secret, away from everyone’s eyes.

“Aren’t you going to show me how dear I am to you, Sir Nikolaï?” you asked huskily after you parted away from your kiss.

He grinned and immediately holstered you in his strong arms. “Most certainly, my beloved wife.”

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #knight nikolai #knight nikolai lantsov #fluff

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cameronspecial · 5 months

Text

Assisting In Deception (Part 2)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex and Assassinations.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Rafe makes an unusual offer that Y/N takes just to prove a point to her cousin.

Masterlist

Y/N enters Rafe’s office to see him scrolling on his phone at his desk. His coffee is left cold in its mug while his focus is on his phone. He looks in her direction at the sudden feeling of another presence in the room. She walks over to the chair in front of his desk and waits for him to put down his phone. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N. What do you need?” he offers, giving her his full attention. She readjusts her posture with the sudden new gaze on her, “I know it’s a little early, but I was wondering if I could have March 18th off.” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. She isn’t one to request time off unless she is sick and he highly doubts she can predict being sick six months in advance. He knows she is a planner, but no one could schedule a sickness.

“Okay, may I ask why you need the day off?”

“For my cousin’s wedding. I mean it would be great if I could have the whole six months just to look for a date, but I could do with just the day.”

“You need a date for the wedding?”

“It’s not necessarily a need. It just would make my life a little easier to go to the wedding without being questioned by my relatives about why my romantic life is non-existent. It also doesn’t help that there are like a million parties before the actual wedding that I will be going to solo.”

Rafe shifts his body weight forward, placing his elbow on his desk and his chin on his hand to show his interest. He feels as though fate plopped this opportunity in front of him. What are the chances that Y/N needs a boyfriend at the same time that he needs a girlfriend? “I have a proposition for you,” he states, calmy like what he is about to say is an everyday offer. Y/N’s head tilts, “What would that be?” He looks into her eyes and it feels as though he is about to reveal a deep dark secret. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” She sits there in shock for a solid minute; her mouth hangs open, saying nothing. Rafe worries, waving his hand in front of her face, “Ms. Y/L/N?” “I’m not sure what to say about that,” she admits with bewilderment all over her face. Rafe nods, “I should clarify. I would like for you to be my fake girlfriend. I would go to all of your family events and in exchange, you would let me use you to show the media that I’m not everything they say I am.”

“I see. So you want to use me.”

“Well, yes. But I shouldn’t have used that word. We would just make media appearances together and that’s it.”

“Theoretically, if I were to say yes, I need more details on what you would require me to do.”

“Exactly what I said. You could flaunt me in front of your family. I’d go to the engagement party, bridal party, the wedding and any other thing related to the wedding. For me, you would just need to make one or two event appearances, be seen with me in public a few times and maybe one interview. That’s it. If you agree, we could write this all down in a contract.”

“What about the fact that you are my boss? Don’t you think people will say things about that?”

“They probably will, but everyone will have criticism of who I say I’m dating anyway. I have full confidence that you can charm the public.”

Y/N takes a second to ponder what he is saying. She weighs the pros and cons of his statement and in her mind, the cons come out on top. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cameron. But I don’t think I’m comfortable with the idea of being in the spotlight. Thank you for offering though.” She gets up from the chair and makes her way back outside.

——

It’s been a few hours since Y/N has been in his office and she can’t stop thinking about what he said. She turned down the offer because she wasn’t sure it was a smart idea with her crush on him. The relationship would be fake, but the possibility of her catching true feelings for him could be a risk. It would be too painful if that happened and then they had to stop dating. She would rather take the annoyance of being single than the pain of heartbreak. She still can’t believe how calm and collected he was throughout the whole conversation. He acted like he was asking her what she wanted for dinner, not like he was asking her to lie to the world about their relationship. The ringing of her phone snaps her out of her thoughts.

She takes it out of her pocket to answer it. “Hey Y/N, how are you? Did you get Francine’s wedding invite?” Natalie asks through the phone. Y/N shakes her head at her cousin’s inability to hide what she really wants to know. Natalie has only ever had one interest in life and that is one-upping her cousin. “I did, Nat. Are you going?” she plays into her cousin’s game.

“Of course, I’m going. I love Francine, so I would totally want to go to her wedding. Plus, Richard can take the day off. I’m thinking of getting us matching hats for the wedding. Well, a fascinator for me and a top hat for him.”

“That sounds like a great idea. I’m glad that you are happy with Richard.”

“So… Are you going to be going to the wedding solo again?��

The hint of pity and patronizing in her tone irritates Y/N to no end. Y/N responds without another thought, “Actually, I do have a date. Not that it is your business really. Anyway, I have to go. My boss is calling me.” She hangs up the phone and sighs at what she has to do. She gets up from her desk, knocking on Rafe’s door. She enters at his approval and sits herself in the same chair again. “I accept,” she informs. “But I want a say as to what goes into the contract.”

“I can work with that.”

Rafe holds his hand out for her to shake. As she shakes it, worry floods through her. She realizes that this isn’t just going to be something her family is going to see, but the whole world is going to know about their relationship. What will they say when they learn she isn’t the heiress of some big company? What will they think if they learn she is his assistant? She buries her stress deep inside and promises to not let it out until this whole thing is over.

——

The staff lounge is empty except for Topper sipping his tea whilst on his phone. He may be the head of legal at Cameron Development, but he always makes sure to get to know everyone in the company, no matter the rank of their job title. “Ahh, well if it isn’t the new Mrs. Cameron,” he jokes when he notices her at the door. She smiles at him and walks to the Nespresso machine, “That is not a new nickname that you are calling me. So I see you got the contract.” Topper laughs at the seriousness of her voice at what he called her. “That I did. I have to say I was not expecting to see a contract about your relationship with Rafe when I woke up this morning.”

“Me either. All I wanted was someone to go to my cousin’s wedding with me. And now, I am going to be paraded around his world.”

“Well, you could’ve just asked me. I’m always available to take you out.”

“Thanks but the only taking out I’m considering right now is the one where you would need a gun. All jokes aside, I think it’s going to be fine. Rafe is a good boss.”

“He is and if he ever gets on your nerves too much, you can always come to me.”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

——

Rafe looks around the subway station horrified about the state of the place. His expensive dark blue polo shirt and tan dress pants are a stark contrast to the hot and rat-infested platform. Y/N giggles at the look on his face, “It’s like you’ve never been on the subway before.” “I haven’t,” he admits, looking at her with raised eyebrows. Her head moves from side to side and she hesitantly takes his hand to guide him onto the arriving subway.

One of the stipulations of the contract is that Y/N gets to take them on their first “outing” as a couple. She wanted to go out with him outside of work to get to know him more than the very little he’s allowed anyone he works with to get to know him; the exception being Topper and Kelce, who grew up with him and were given jobs when he took over the company. The other rule she stipulated is that she wants a soft launch of the relationship until it is necessary for her to be revealed as the mystery girl. At least, this way she can keep her privacy as long as she can. She had told Rafe to dress casually, but she really shouldn’t have been surprised that he still arrived looking like a million dollars.

He keeps his sunglasses on as he pauses to sit down beside her on the subway seat. He takes a chance to glance at the costumed cookie monster and looks back at her. “Do you have to keep your sunglasses on? We are on the subway,” she questions, leaning in to talk to him. His eyes dart to the muppet beside him, “Yes, because me wearing sunglasses indoors is the strangest thing here. Why couldn’t we have taken my car?” She shoots him a playful glare. “Your fancy dancy car would bring too much attention to us and that is the last thing I want right now,” she explains, checking the subway screen to see how many stops until they get off. “Where are we going anyways?” he inquires, following her gaze.

“It’s a surprise.”

——

The pair exit the station and the sight before him is one he is familiar with. He isn’t sure what “regular” people restaurant is around Central Park, but he lets her steer them in the right direction. He looks down at their joint hand and he can’t help but notice how they interlace together perfectly. He shakes himself out of his observation and looks up to see the reason why she stopped. In front of him is a street cart that appears to be selling hot dogs. He looks over at her with a questioning look, “You want me to eat food that has come from a cart?”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. And this place has a permit. It’s fine.”

“You can eat that stuff, but I’m not risking it.”

“Stop being so snooty. Eating is part of a date. So you are going to go sit on that bench and eat whatever I get you. If you are a good boy, then maybe I’ll get you a Spider-Man or Spongebob ice cream. Dealers choice.”

He stares at her in surprise that she talked to him in such an ordering manner. She always speaks her mind, but she normally does it in a less commanding way. He listens to what she says and goes to sit on a bench looking over the lake. After a few minutes, she comes back with two hot dogs and water bottles. She hands him one of each, “I have ketchup and mustard packets if you want. I didn’t get you a New York hot dog because I thought I would ease you into street food culture.” He takes the packets with thanks and adds the condiments to his meal. They eat in silence until she breaks the silence. “So you grew up in the Outer Banks. What’s that like?” He looks over at her, finishing chewing before answering, “Yeah. It was quiet.”

“Wow, this has been a great conversation. Thank you for participating in it!”

“I don’t know what you expect, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ve never been much of a talker.”

“First, when we are outside of the office, you can call me Y/N. Second, what I expect from you is to stop being Mr. Cameron, my boss, and to be Rafe, my boyfriend. If people are going to actually believe we are dating, then you have to separate those two.”

“Okay, fine. I see your point. Ask me another question.”

She grins at his offer and takes a second to think about it, “You are never playful or smile, so why do you tease me sometimes? It’s the least serious I’ve ever seen you.”

“You’re the only one who isn’t afraid of me. Plus, it amuses me how flustered you get.”

Y/N is rendered speechless and she uses one hand to put her hair that is framing her face on both sides of her face behind her ear. The conversation flows in small talk while they finish their hot dogs. She takes their garbage and stands up, “You’ve been good. I guess I can get you an ice cream. Do you want Spider-Man or Spongebob?”

“Are those the only two options? What about the other flavours?”

“Yes. Now, choose.”

“Spongebob.”

She nods and heads back over to the stand. He watches as she pays for the sweet treats and returns to him. Rafe didn’t want her to pay for everything on the date, but she had put it as a requirement in the contract. He takes the package from her, opening it as soon as it makes contact with his hand. The disappointment on his face is evident on his face and she laughs. “This does not look like the picture,” his lips turn in a microscopic pout. Her head moves from side to side, “Things rarely do, Boss.”

——

Y/N returns home from the date a little after five to find Juni sitting on the couch, watching TV. “Where have you been? You didn’t tell me you were going out, Sweetie,” Juni interrogates, getting up from the couch to be closer to Y/N. She chuckles at her best friend worrying like her mother. She gives her a hug, “Did you forget that I told you about my fake date with Rafe today?” “Oh, yeah. I did. Sorry, I’ve been so busy with work that I forgot. How was your date with the Big C?” she apologizes, sitting herself down at the kitchen island.

“One. That cannot be your new nickname for him. Two. It was good. He opened up to me a little bit, so we are making progress. It was adorable, he was so disgruntled that the Spongebob ice cream wasn’t like the picture. Also, apparently, he teases me because he likes to see me flustered.”

The loving look in Y/N’s eyes causes Juni to frown, “Just be careful with him. I don’t want you getting hurt in this whole fake dating thing, Sweetie. I’ve never seen these things end well.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t fall for him. He’s my boss and nothing more.”

Alexander enters the apartment with no knock and an annoyed look on his face. “Why must people be so crude? Why does no one want a serious relationship anymore?” he complains, settling himself on the couch. The girls turn with concerned looks on their faces. “Another bad date?” Y/N poses, getting up from her stool to sit beside him. “Yes, this guy literally told me all he wants is a fuck buddy. And when I asked him why he still tried to match with me even though my profile said I wanted a relationship, he said that he just thought I was lying and would agree to just fucking when I saw his face,” he answers and lets himself be embraced by Y/N. Juni gets up to rub his back in reassurance, “Ugh, I hate men that are so cocky like that. I’m sorry the date went bad. He doesn’t realize what a great guy he is missing out on.”

Heat rushes to his cheeks and he scratches the back of his neck. They look into each other's eyes. Anyone but them can see the obvious attraction between the two. Y/N looks between the pair with a slight bit of jealousy. She wishes that she could have chemistry like that with someone, but that would require believing in love first.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @maybankslover @abbybarnesstuff @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis

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bruisedboys · 7 months

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Your characterization of the marauders is spot on for all of them!! Ok, here are my insane thoughts about Remus in no particular order:

- he’s obviously insecure about his scars, but nothing makes him feel better or more loved than when you trace them softly or kiss along one of them because you think he’s beautiful no matter what and you need him to know that

- he’d be the perfect boyfriend around the holidays, helping with baking and taking you around to see the lights and always making sure you have a warm drink and letting you borrow his sweaters because you just look so beautiful in them and doing a gift exchange where he gives you the most thoughtful gift ever because he always listens and always remembers every little thing you say

- he’s a great chef and he’ll never let the boys know, and as much as he loves taking you out and showing you off, his favorite dates are at home where he cooks a nice meal and you cuddle up to watch a movie after or he’ll read to you (omg his voice would be all soft and a little scratchy ahh)

- bookstore dates are the best, and you’ll go and pick out a book for him and he’ll pick one out for you and if it’s nice you’ll go read in the park or on your back porch but if it’s cold (like it is now) you’ll curl up on the couch together and read for the whole afternoon, just enjoying being near each other

- lately I can’t stop thinking about dad!Remus, he’d be so great while you’re pregnant and he’d read all the baby books and he’d baby proof your apartment and he’d get you whatever you needed or wanted at any hour of the day all while being stressed beyond belief but he’d never let you know that when you have much more important things to worry about and once the baby comes, she’s got him wrapped around her tiny little fingers (because he’s obviously a girl dad) and just imagine this tiny little baby being held so gently by this tall, deceptively strong man

- also I have some very detailed thoughts about book store reader x single dad Remus if you’d like to hear…

omg so many good thoughts thank you angel!!!! I will be thinking about all of these for the next 2-5 business days…..

- ok firstly YES. bf is very insecure about his scars but you tell him they’re pretty and make him look really handsome and he just loses it!!!!! the second you kiss or even just caress one of his scars he melts. also if you’re ever insecure about your own scars/stretch marks/other marks on your body he’ll show you his and be like but look :))) we’re matching babe :))))

- yes he is so christmas boyfriend!!!!! he’s such a good gift giver because he remembers everything about you and yes his gifts are always so thoughtful!! I feel like he’s very into handmade gifts too! I’m imagining a handmade clay vase or something like that. or a wooden jewellery box. omg!!

- real!!!! he cooks the best homey meals (domestic!remus 😵‍💫) like pasta dishes, soups, homemade bread. omg bread is definitely his speciality and he’ll make it fresh for you at the drop of a hat if you’re craving it <3

- bookstore dates!!! stop I am literally swooning. you and him will do a little game where you don’t let the other person see what book you’re getting until you’re out of the store and then you present it to them once you’re out!! he has the best taste in books so you always know it’ll be good 😌 and then when you read together he’s always gotta be touching you, your legs in his lap or his hand on your thigh, sometimes he’ll even lay in your lap!!!

- dad!remus will actually be the death of me. for some reason the idea of any of my favourite characters being dads just awakens something feral inside of me. he’s definitely the best ever when you’re pregnant!!! you better believe he’s doing everything for you, you’re not allowed to lift a finger babe. he’s very protective of you too, very gentle with you and aware of anything and everything that could hurt you or the baby even a tiny bit. if you’re emotional or sick or just having a really rough time he always holds it together for you, never losing his patience and always reminding you that you’re incredible and strong and he loves you!!! also also he loves his friends but he doesn’t let them rub your tummy or talk to the baby for too long, that’s his baby thank you very much 😇

oh em gee I’d love your thoughts on bookstore reader x single dad!remus 🤭 all of your thoughts so far were soooo good and fuelled my brainrot successfully

#I love you sweet angel anon!!!!!!#remus lupin #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin thoughts #remus lupin hc #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin headcanons #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin thought #remus lupin drabbles #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction

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simpforfandom231 · 2 months

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Snuggles and whispers

i have to say, Lindsay lohan is starting to be my favorite redhead but don't worry, Reneé and Rachel are still very much my favorites too ;-)

pairing: Lindsay Lohan x femreader

this is a short one but i am seeing if you guys would like some Lohan fanfics. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n sat hunched over her laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face as she furiously typed away. The rhythmic click-clack of the keys filled the quiet living room. It was one of those nights where work seemed endless, but Y/n was determined to finish her tasks before calling it a night.

Lindsay emerged from the kitchen, a faint scent of freshly brewed coffee trailing behind her. She padded over to where Y/n was seated, her eyes softening as she observed her girlfriend engrossed in her work.

"Hey there," Lindsay murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against Y/n's shoulder. "Still burning the midnight oil?"

Y/n smiled, the fatigue evident in her eyes. "Yeah, just wrapping things up. Almost done though."

Lindsay settled down on the couch beside Y/n, nestling herself in between her girlfriend's legs. She draped an arm around Y/n's waist, nuzzling against her neck affectionately. Y/n couldn't help but lean into the warmth of Lindsay's embrace, finding solace in her presence.

As Y/n continued to work, Lindsay's eyelids grew heavy, the soft hum of Y/n's voice and the warmth of her body lulling her into a peaceful slumber. With her head resting against Y/n's chest, Lindsay's breaths became steady and deep.

Y/n stole a glance at her sleeping girlfriend, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She admired the delicate freckles sprinkled across Lindsay's face, tracing each one with her eyes as if committing them to memory. To Y/n, Lindsay's freckles were like constellations, mapping out a story of their own.

"You know," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I love your freckles. Each one tells a story."

Lindsay stirred slightly, a small grin playing on her lips as she pretended to be asleep.

Y/n chuckled softly, running her fingers through Lindsay's fiery locks. "And your hair... it's like spun gold, so soft and vibrant. I could get lost in it forever."

Lindsay let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to Y/n's warmth.

"But what I love most," Y/n continued, her voice barely audible, "is when the sunlight hits your skin just right. You glow, Lindsay. You truly do."

A gentle breeze fluttered through the open window, casting playful shadows across the room. Y/n watched as the moonlight danced across Lindsay's features, illuminating her beauty in the most mesmerizing way.

"And your shoulders," Y/n whispered, trailing her fingertips along Lindsay's bare arms. "They're my favorite canvas, adorned with the most exquisite freckles. Each one a masterpiece in its own right."

Lindsay's lips twitched into a smile, her facade of sleepiness beginning to fade.

Y/n leaned in closer, pressing a tender kiss against Lindsay's temple. "I love you, Lindsay Lohan. With all my heart."

Lindsay's eyes fluttered open, a soft glow of adoration shining in their depths. "I love you too, Y/n. More than you'll ever know."

As Y/n continued to type away on her laptop, she felt Lindsay's warm breath on her shoulder, causing her to feign shock once again. "Lindsay, you're awake!"

Lindsay chuckled softly, her voice tinged with amusement. "I told you, I'm a master of deception, baby."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at Lindsay's playful demeanor. "You're incorrigible, Linds."

Lindsay grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Guilty as charged."

Their playful exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Maurice and Willow, who bounded over to the couch, their tails wagging eagerly.

Lindsay's face lit up with delight as she scooped up the two dachshunds, showering them with affectionate kisses. "Look at these little angels, Y/n. How can you say no to these faces?"

Y/n sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "We've been through this, Lindsay. They can't disturb me while I'm working."

Lindsay's bottom lip jutted out in a playful pout. "But they just want to cuddle with their mommies."

Unable to resist Lindsay's puppy-dog eyes (which were remarkably similar to Maurice and Willow's), Y/n relented, giving in to their furry companions' demands.

As the dogs snuggled close, Y/n reached out to ruffle Lindsay's fiery red hair, her touch gentle and loving. "You and your puppy-dog eyes get me every time, Linds."

Lindsay grinned, her eyes sparkling with affection. "What can I say? It's a gift."

Their cozy moment was interrupted by a loud yawn from Maurice, who promptly nestled himself against Lindsay's side, his eyes drooping sleepily.

As Lindsay playfully closed Y/n's laptop, she flashed a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Come on, baby," she said softly, leaning in close to brush her lips against Y/n's cheek. "You've been working non-stop. We really need to get in bed and get some sleep."

Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at Lindsay's playful insistence, her heart swelling with affection for the redhead beside her. "Alright, alright," she relented, unable to resist the allure of Lindsay's soft smile. "But only because you asked so nicely."

With a triumphant grin, Lindsay wrapped her arms around Y/n's neck, pulling her close as Y/n scooped her up into her arms. Maurice and Willow, always eager to be by their mommies' sides, followed closely behind, their tiny paws tapping against the floor with each step.

As they entered the bedroom, Y/n gently laid Lindsay down on the bed, the soft mattress sinking beneath their weight. Maurice and Willow wasted no time in joining them, bounding onto the bed with excited yips and wagging tails.

Y/n chuckled softly as she watched the dogs make themselves comfortable, their furry bodies snuggling close to their owners. "Looks like they're ready for bedtime too."

Lindsay grinned up at Y/n, her eyes shining with affection. "They're just following our lead," she said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Y/n's ear. "We set the best examples, after all."

Before Y/n could respond, Lindsay suddenly pulled her close, her lips meeting Y/n's in a forceful yet tender kiss. Y/n pulled back, her eyes wide with surprise. "What was that for?" she asked, a giggle escaping her lips.

Lindsay simply smiled sweetly, her gaze soft and adoring. "Just because," she murmured, her voice filled with love. "Because I can't help but kiss the most amazing person in the world."

As Lindsay nestled herself into the blankets, she let out a contented sigh, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. Y/n couldn't help but smile at the sight of her girlfriend, her heart swelling with affection.

"Comfy, redhead?" Y/n teased, gently nudging Lindsay with her elbow.

Lindsay let out a sleepy giggle, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mmm, so comfy," she murmured, snuggling closer to Y/n's warmth.

Y/n's heart melted at Lindsay's adorable response. Leaning in, she placed a soft kiss on Lindsay's forehead. "You're too cute, you know that?"

Lindsay's response was a gentle, sleepy kiss on Y/n's cheek, her lips warm against her skin. "Just for you, baby," she whispered, her words barely audible.

Lindsay's eyes fluttered closed, her breathing growing steady as sleep began to claim her. But just before she drifted off completely, she stirred slightly, her voice soft and sleepy. "Y/n?"

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Lindsay's voice. "Yes, love?"

Lindsay's words were barely a whisper, barely coherent in her sleepy state. "Can you... whisper again?"

Confused but intrigued, Y/n leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Lindsay's ear. "Why do you want me to whisper, Linds?"

Lindsay's response was a sleepy murmur, her words filled with affection. "Because... I love it when you tell me... what you love about me."

Y/n's heart swelled at Lindsay's request, the love she felt for her girlfriend overflowing. Gently, she began to whisper, her words a soft caress against Lindsay's skin.

"I love your fiery red hair," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's like waves of silk, cascading down your shoulders like a waterfall."

Lindsay let out a contented sigh, her breathing growing slow and steady. Encouraged by her response, Y/n continued, her words a gentle lullaby.

"And your eyes," she whispered, her voice filled with admiration. "They're like the ocean on a stormy day, deep and mysterious, yet filled with endless depths of love."

As Y/n spoke, Lindsay's breathing grew even, her body relaxing against Y/n's. And in that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, Y/n couldn't help but feel grateful for the incredible woman lying beside her, her heart overflowing with love and tenderness.

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raayllum · 1 month

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Gift Giving & Primal vs First Elves :: Or Going Off Into the Deep Lore Deep End

Remember that meta I compiled about Greek mythology, deceptive gift giving, and TDP? Yeah it's time to talk about the gift motif properly as well as some other deep lore things because these excellent thoughts ( @spicyviren, @kradogsrats, and @its-leethee) got the wheels in my brain spinning.

AKA an unknown amount of sectioned word vomit into the nature of magic, where it comes from, how deep magic operates, some gifts and motifs, and Leola, just a little.

Let's go.

Gift Motif

The gift motif is one that's a bit of a slowburn in TDP. While characters will often pass and hand over objects — tools, artefacts, metaphorical responsibilities or trust (handing over the egg, for example) — to one another, there's not a big emphasis on gifts in the first three seasons.

There are some, such as Callum's letter from Harrow (that he's given by Claudia once again initially as a goodbye), Ezran giving Bait to Barius in S3, and Rayla's family pendant, but most of these, as you've might already noticed, are contextualized within Goodbyes. Whether the gift motif will amount in arc 2 to escaping this "final gift" context remains to be seen, but that's how it tends to work in interpersonal relationships.

There is an element of peace offering in hoping that returning Zym — a gift and/or gesture of good will — will help usher in peace, but I think (as of now at least) that ties further into the series' theme of Reciprocal Exchange (the assassin mission being an eye for an eye vs olive branch for olive branch) than outright gift giving. (Although we will probably talk about Exchange and gift giving at some point because there is also a thematic tether there.)

However, there is one other thing that is more and more often referred to as a gift in Arc 1, and that's Magic. Specifically, dark magic.

Now, this actually isn't that dissimilar from what the Goodbye gifts amount to, either. In Harrow's letter, he gifts Callum the Key of Aaravos believing it to be a powerful magical relic of some kind; Rayla's pendant makes its way from Ethari to her to Callum, who then uses it for magical purposes; and Bait, as a glow toad, is connected to an arcanum himself.

I do think it's noteworthy though that in Arc 1, (dark) magic being a gift is emphasized upon, specifically because of these lines for Khessa:

Upon first watching it back in 2019, it made sense that dark magic would be referred to this way, even when I just thought maybe it was that humans had been given 'nothing,' as Claudia says. Dark magic is closely tied to ideas of theft and thievery — stealing magic from others to harness its power for yourself — and the series is deeply interested in concepts of ownership or who has 'true' ownership over something, in magic, a throne/crown, a price to pay, etc. This follows neatly into Arc 2 (for ex: why Karim seeking to steal the Sun Seed is a metaphorical dark path even if it didn't outright involve dark magic through Kim'Dael), which we'll build on later.

That said, given the depth of the knowledge at the Great Bookery that is open to Sunfire elves more than any other type of elf, and the information that Tales of Xadia and Ripples gives us...

While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, [Leola] gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells. With the unicorn’s gift, the most determined minds among the humans could finally harness primal magic.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters [...] Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.

It makes it more than likely than, unlike other elves such as Lujanne or Ibis, Khessa had reason to believe/know that there used to be primal human mages in the past... and that it wasn't 'enough' for them ultimately, because they still hungered and developed (and were given?) dark magic. "Your kind could not be satisfied with what you were given" was about the rejection of primal magic from Leola (the unicorns) in favour of a darker kind that involves theft and "dirtying yourself" (5x08) with dark magic.

But at the same time, this complicates the Gift Giving motif of including not just dark magic, but being also for primal magic — for humans, at least.

And also for elves. (Ignoring how "great orb" is very similar to "great one" for now.)

Janai: It was a gift. But there's more to it than that. The great orb began as this. Karim: This is... a sun seed?

Now, the Great Orb being grown from a Sun 'literal' seed makes sense. We've known for a long time that in Xadia, "magic is everywhere. It's just part of the vibrance or spirit of things" (1x05). Primal magic naturally occurring in plants, animals, and elves likewise makes sense on that note. Just as not "many could bear the gruelling path of a rune mage," Karim cannot bear to have patience and faith in something that will only come to fruition centuries later.

That said, I raise the question: how functionally different is the Great Orb from say, a sun primal stone would hypothetically be? If primal stones and primal magic were gifts to humanity from unicorns — from creatures connected to the Star arcanum, for lack of a better understanding — then why not magic from Startouch (?) elves to other elves.

How do we know that all magic isn't simply a gift that was given once upon a time?

From the First Elves to the Primal Elves.

Primal vs First Elves

So what's the difference between First Elves and Primal elves?

Well we have a few pieces of lore:

1) Zubeia's status as a "heavenly majesty" (which we'll come back to in the next section) gives her authority to speak in the name of the first elves, who are effectively gods to humankind and/or Xadians ("Have our Gods died? / Where do the fabled Great Ones hide?" —the Epic of the Void

2) It seems that the First Elves are, as of now and for a while, exclusively in reference to what would otherwise be called Startouch elves, although the latter is seemingly a name that came later given Rayla's affirmation of "ancient legends". This is reaffirmed in Tales of Xadia's two lone mention of First Elves:

No group of elves presents a greater mystery than the Startouch elves. Sometimes called the First Elves, those bound to the Star primal are rumored to have made great marks on Xadia’s ancient history—but beyond story and legend, little real evidence is left to us today [...] Among the few extant records of Startouch elves are the Scrolls of the First Elves, now kept in the Great Bookery of Lux Aurea.

3) At a post-S2 con in 2019 (how's that for a far reach?) we got a timeline of the events of Xadia laid out for us. The description of the very first piece of history and era we know of goes as follows, with the Rise of Elarion happening 2000 years ago re: the Dragon Prince era ("The Return of Aaravos"):

The Era of the First elves is the first recorded era 5,000 years prior to the current era. Dragons and elves were not allied during this period. There were no distinct primal elves. This is an era before all that. Humans suffered during this period.

—2019 con timeline

4) Justin and Aaron reaffirm this at the 2:30 ish minute mark of this video (a couple of months before even S3 was released) by reaffirming distinctly to Primal elves. Later (7:40-ish mark) we see this distinction reaffirmed again through the statement of, "The patterns have been that these primal based elves have grown cultures and civilizations that have become separate and differentiated from kind of whatever the early days were with the First elves were."

Okay, so there was 100% a time where there were only First Elves, and humans, and Primal elves as we knew them (maybe still with the hands and horns, but no arcanum? Or no singular, distinct arcanum) didn't exist. Why does this matter?

This is where the deep lore timeline gets tricky, as we don't know precisely when 1) humans received magic and 2) at what stage the First Elves / Great Ones / Startouch elves 'left' Xadia, only that they did, apparently, when Elarion (the human city) needed help: "Elarion, unworthy whelp / Wept as the stars turned black the sky / They donned their masks / They turned their backs / And left Elarion to die". Why abandon the city (beyond indifference/cruelty as Aaravos would likely claim), who knows.

However, we can assume the timeline looks something like this:

Era of the First Elves

Primal elves (and presumably archdragons *) are crafted / develop into being, whatever that means

Humans are magic-less and are having a bad time

Unicorns / Leola extend sympathy despite the fact that the First Elves tell her not to (Book One: Novelization / Tales of Xadia)

Humans have primal magic (Ripples / Tales of Xadia)

This attracts negative attention, consolidated in Elarion ("the stars she asked their light to cast / and stop the dragons’ fiery might" / "as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted")

Elarion asks for help and the Stars leave

Aaravos, the last star — presumably already Fallen from the First Elves — gives them dark magic under the guise of protection even though it will inevitably help him (i.e. give him the ability to possess people)

Dark magic replaces primal magic as the primary form for humans

Tension and violence escalates (unicorns are hunted to near extinction). Sol Regem is removed as King of the Dragons

Under Dragon Queen Luna Tenebris, the daughter of an elven leader suggests the Judgement of the Half-Moon, causing for humans to be banished rather than eradicated, and the continent split in two

Again, nothing too crazy / not too much we haven't already known or guessed at for a while.

But like I said, I'm gonna propose two theories, so bear with me:

Theory #1: What is Deep Magic?

The First Elves engaged with what we're gonna call Deep or Old Magic, for lack of a better term. There can be an assumption at times that this magic would be more 'pure' or less 'diluted' than dark magic or even the primal magic we've seen on screen. However, I think that's less than likely. Dark magic is often times a bad path for good outcomes, and primal magic can be a 'good' magic for bad outcomes (the blood freezing spell, for example).

While dark magic is a more textually malevolent magic system and primal magic is more true neutral — able to be used as a tool and a source of connection for the user — I don't think this necessarily means that Deep Magic is inherently enlightening (we see with the Ocean arcanum and S5 that knowledge can be an immense burden) or that it's on the opposite end of the spectrum and is outright benevolent.

What, then, am I suggesting Deep Magic to be? Well, we have some clues likewise from the same old interview post-s2 that we haven't had much basis to (potentially) understand until now, in which it's stated:

Deeper magic and deeper gifts that the original beings received [...] practical, usable, powerful magic is drawn from the six primal sources, right? But there is this idea that there's this earlier, less differentiated power kind of magic that's deeper and more - I don't kind of want to say what all of them are. It's not that important now, it has more to do with the history of beings and their interactions with each other. But Aaravos cares about some of this stuff. The best I can say is that one of them's Power — but well, what does that mean?

The six primal sources — potentially just five (hence why only 5 gemstones seem to occur naturally in nature, and Star seemingly doesn't) — are all based around physical, somewhat tangible principles. Earth, Ocean, Sun (fire/light), Sky (wind/weather) are perhaps the most tangible, with only Moon dipping into something into something more metaphysical: illusions and questioning the nature of reality, the nature of death, etc. However, I'd argue that the Moon arcanum's emphasis on death still makes it something that is particularly important to creatures who are mortal (but more on that later).

What I am arguing for is then, therefore, that Deep Magic is magic drawn from Concepts and Ideas > tangible things found in nature or parts of other magical creatures.

Three concepts, to be exact: (translated dark magic screenshot from Cartoon Universe spells reversed).

Zubeia: He chose as his instruments those who had strong hearts and strong minds, but who had an insatiable thirst and fascination with magic (power).

Three quasar diamonds, three deep magic concepts. Heart, Mind, Power.

("To know something truly and deeply, you must know it with your head, hand, and heart. Mind, body, and spirit." / "She laid before me her scales, her blindfold, and her sword, and told me to choose.")

Now, I don't know if it's these three concepts exactly — I could Truth, or Justice, or something like that — or even if it's three. But given what little we know about Deep magic thus far and how much the series' likes its threes, I think that's the likeliest number and combination.

We've known for a while that there's something weird with the connection between dark magic, spells that use blood, and 'star' magic. We know it's unlikely that Aaravos being able to possess people who have used dark magic was just a happy accident discovered after humans started using it. We know that when Callum is offered the dark magic version of the cube in his dreams, the symbol is blood red: "You can have unlimited power." And that dark magic "became the key that unlocked a place of power for humans in Xadia" (Tales of Xadia).

So what if dark magic stems from the vein of Deep magic that's taken from the concept of Power? What if when Aaravos offered his pawns "unlimited" Power, or when Kpp'Ar accused Viren of (potentially using star magic) "making the same choice you always made: the one that gives you Power," they meant it?

Alternatively, this could mean that most other Startouch elves — their longevity, their indifference — comes from the vein of Mind and subsequent intellectual detachment? Enough intelligence and reason not to hunger for more (Power), but not enough compassion and empathy to sympathize with others (Heart).

And it would also tie into Leola being unique among her own kind for her heart taking pity on the humans, and giving them primal magic — perhaps in the vein of Heart, if we're keeping things consistent — and why love ("To know something truly and deeply [...] I love you with all of myself, and I always will" / "To love is simply to know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep") has been consistently tied to Callum unlocking arcanums. The "Narrative of Strength (power)" vs "Narrative of Love" being even more literal than we thought.

This wouldn't be too out of line since Moon arcanum philosophy already borrows heavily from Plato's idea of the forms/reality (Plato's allegory of the cave, anyone?) and the forms basically mean "your imagined ideal of the object in your mind is going to be more perfect than any tangible, 'real' version of the object could ever be." That being applied to living beings who are literally in the sky would track a certain amount, in addition to the idea that however primal magic is set up in Xadia right is "the whole world is like a giant primal stone; sky magic is all around us, and it's also in me, with every breath we take." But I digress.

With the distinction of Deep Magic as 1) separate and a sea that flows into the primal as well as 2) older and earlier than primal magic, now onto the next theory:

Theory #2: First elves and the Archdragons?

Now admittedly this one is more speculative since beyond knowing 1) the First elves = what we'd call Startouch elves, 2) the rest of them except Aaravos 'left' Xadia a while ago, and 3) the aforementioned possible 'Mind' deep magic thing, we very quickly run out of set knowledge into full blown speculation. Beyond

With that in mind, I wanna talk about the... weirdness, I suppose, between the Archdragons / draconic royal family and the First Elves.

There's a few notes to this: we know that Ancient Draconic is the language of primal magic, indicating that dragons existed and presumably had primal magic before elves did, and that elves had to be given that linguistic knowledge at least to a certain degree.

Then we also have the way Zubeia is referred to being mirrored with the way she describes Aaravos later:

Likewise, the one person/creature we've seen referred to as a god outside the Epic of the Void poem is Avizandum by Harrow (bonus points for the game motif of "entire armies have fallen like toys" because of him):

Bloodmoon Huntress also asserts that from an elven point of view (or at least Lain and Tiadrin, and presumably Runaan, too) that "Dragons are the lifeblood, the very core of Xadia" and generally assumed that dragons have the most powerful connection to their individual primal sources.

So I'd be willing to wager (esp since Sol Regem is at least 1,2000+ years old) that Archdragons at least once upon a time had been contemporaries of the First Elves if not peers. What and why that connection exists and how relevant it is for today, I don't know, but I do think there's something there, especially since the one example we have of a First Elf-Dragon relationship in Aaravos, Avizandum, and Zubeia, was perceived to be positive somewhat on all sides — a matter of trust on his end (in order to be "betrayed") and a matter of reverence and importance on theirs; "admired and loved by all" / "you meant something to him".

There is also something to be said for the Archdragons being the most powerful embodiment of the primal sources (alongside maybe some rare and noteworthy elves, like Queen Aditi) still being "unable to risk a direct confrontation" with only one singular and Fallen Startouch elf. What would a whole slew of them at the height of their power look like? (And yet it is implied that the Nova Blade is "ivory draconic" so... maybe you just have to get a First Elf close enough to the mouth to be consumed / bitten? Or perhaps the Nova Blade is made from the tooth/claw of a 'Star' arcanum dragon.)

TLDR; it's looking more and more like Startouch elves as we understand them and First Elves in generally are — while emotive and feeling the way humans and elves are — something very different from anything else we've seen thus far in terms of knowledge and power skill, and that distinction is only going to be made more and more apparent as the story goes on.

Theory #3: Where do we go from here?

So if Deep Magic is distinct from Primal, and is distinct from 2/3 kinds of Deep Magic in dark magic (derived from 5-primal and Power deep magic thoughts)... where do we go from here, magically speaking?

Well, the important thing to note is that the story has given us some thematic clues. Aaravos is concerned with exile and power, both things we see thematically most represented by human characters (with some elven exceptions like Karim and Kim'Dael). The other Star touch elves are very on brand for "Xadian exile" as their favourite punishment as well as extreme isolationism ("I knew I had to be strong alone" etc). Therefore, whatever answer we give Magically also has to reconcile these issues from a thematic and character based standpoint.

It seems like a switch of where people are concentrating energy — for Startouch elves and humans — needs to have a drastic shift to one of the other veins/concepts of deep magic that will hopefully heal the rifts. If Aaravos is Power (humans) and the others are 'Mind' (Xadian indifference/isolation and banishment) for lack of a better idea, then subverting that binary and shifting more to a third 'Love' path seems to be very on brand for TDP. Holding both at the same time but being guided by a higher principle of peace and harm reduction is what Ezran's 4x03 speech is all about, after all.

Something something both Xadia and magic and the First Elves being reunited with Xadia / humanity and elvenkind as TDP's endgame, something something.

Other Gift Giving Thoughts

The other thing I wanna talk about now that everything else is laid out is how gifts are Given, in TDP. We see time and time again relationships and magic systems being framed on the idea of whether they are giving, taking, both in a bad way or in a good way. There seems to be two main indicators for gift giving, therefore, either that in the receiver is worthy, or that the exchange is going to be reciprocal.

At its best, a gift works as intended.

Humans (and elves?) are given primal magic and generally use it for exploration and to care for themselves / one another The sun seed is given to the Sunfire elves, but they must nurture it. Callum gives Rayla her father's bow and she uses it to protect them. Callum achieves enlightenment and understanding of him and is rewarded with primal magic twice, even if the Ocean in particular is a bit murkier than he'd probably like. Gifts and belongings are relinquished or restored for freedom, for hope, for peace.

Here we have to wonder if Leola's Last Wish reconciles both the Goodbye gift motif and the gift of Magic motif, possibly resulting in the gift of the sun seed or more likely something to do with primal magic / alleviate the fallout of dark magic's consequences.

For example, to get an answer from Rex Igneous — a seeming wealth of knowledge — you have to give him a worthy gift that is also a sacrifice of some kind, according to Nath'an.

However, Ezran points out the major flaw in this line of thinking, as "We offered gifts that meant a lot to us, but the truth is, they don't mean anything to you." Not everyone is going to value the same thing or think the same thing is worth the price that was paid.

We see this interpersonally most with the mage fam ("Maybe the world would be better off without magic" from Soren, whose life was saved with it) and with Rayla and Callum (as Rayla's gift of sacrifice by leaving is something Callum did not want and rightfully did not receive well, alongside her moonstone pendant). Again: what is defined as worthy, or worthiness, is in the eye of the beholder.

Just like one of the initial thoughts that inspired this meta, Khessa asserts that dark magic is a magic that "takes" > being reciprocal for both parties, nevermind a gift. The irony, however, runs a bit deeper, as Aaravos thinks the same of his fellow stars:

But the stars kept from them one secret still: that their first lesson—patience—was not a gift of the stars at all. You see, patience is a lesson the humans taught themselves. No, the stars do not know patience, for they have no need for it. The stars want for nothing, and take all to their liking.

And we see this idea of a 'false gift' show up time and time again in the series. Nyx pretends to offer passage but actually wants to steal Zym; Rayla's act of love in leaving is a curse upon Callum's heart and wellbeing; dark magic itself is a false trade of sorts, given how unevenly it tips scales in Aaravos' favour and how much it ruins both the environment and body of its caster.

[The elven thief Lasair] never saw the precious blossoms fade and turn to cold ashes when exposed to the dawn. They never learned their gift was perceived as a curse, not a trade.

—Tales of Xadia

Kim'Dael goes to Queen Aditi under false pretences ("The Queen's Mercy") but the gift that Aditi gives her is nothing good at all:

What pretty bauble, she wondered, had she tricked the queen into forging as a token of protection? What could be powerful enough to ward away the wrath of dragons?

Just as humans sought the stars' help to protect them from the ire of the dragons, Kim'Dael sought Aditi's. And just as Aaravos offered them a false magic that would protect and ultimately trap/destroy then, so does Aditi, with magic that doesn't seem to be entirely dark or primal:

“But know this: the binding around your neck—it is made with magic not unlike your own. It is a magic that demands, that takes."

A form of magic even maybe that demands sacrifice for that kind of Power.

You could almost say it's something Deeper.

Conclusion

Hope you enjoyed going completely off the rails with me, and that this long (winded) post got you thinking! I'll probably do a followup discussing the implications of what we have here for potential Laurelion-Aaravos later. In the meantime, take the fruits of my labour, and spin your own hamster wheels if you'd like.

#the dragon prince #tdp #tdp meta #gift motif #analysis series #dark magic #primal magic #worldbuilding #analysis #deep lore dive #i'm also pretty sure aaravos or someone got cast out bc of the primal magic thing too #stars wanted a punishment of some kind. yeah #but more on that later #something something 'but this isn't true strength. it's only power'

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mariaofdoranelle · 3 months

Text

The Courtship Deception - Part 3: Curtain

Fic Masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

Warnings: moderate alcohol intake

Words: 923

“You can’t hide behind the curtains all night, Princess,” Fenrys said, both of them in the kitchen staff area while Aelin peeked at the party from behind the wooden doors that separated them.

Aelin sighed and smoothed her hands down her black silky dress. Her father thought that arranging this huge party was a good way to “rekindle” something with her suitors—she tried to argue that she dated Chaol for a month when she was eighteen, and never even got to call Dorian her boyfriend, but Rhoe was as dense as a rock, completely blinded by the prize that came after the wedding.

Not that Aelin would marry either of them, but her father didn’t know that yet.

She didn’t know most of the people attending this party, though she knew some names or at least remembered seeing them at some point. They were Rhoe’s guests, even if the party was initially planned for Aelin. She scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar face, until she found a remarkably singular silver head.

Aelin stiffened, her heartbeat faster as she recognized this particular guest. There was no way he could be here.

“Fenrys.” She lightly tapped his arm. “Go get me a drink.”

The second his back was to her, Aelin turned around, that silver hair guiding her. She hated to deceive her friend like this, but as much as he liked to help her schemes, Fenrys was still her father’s employee, and they were currently being watched.

“Aelin.” A gentle hand on her elbow stopped her, and she turned around to meet Dorian’s concerned gaze. “We need to talk.”

She softened at the sight of him. It’d been a while since they last spoke, and a conversation was needed indeed. Dorian was her friend first and foremost, no matter what arrangements their fathers put them through.

“Of course, I…” A peek at her goal just to check that she didn’t lose him in the crowd. “I’m just gonna get a drink first.”

“Let me get it for you,” Dorian said, disappearing before she could stop him.

Well, at least it worked for her. Aelin politely made her way through her father’s business partners, just brief greetings so she wouldn’t lose that loner figure sitting—

“Thank Mala I found you!” Chaol stopped her, one hand on her shoulder. “Look, we—“

“I need a drink!” Aelin interrupted, voice loud and blunt. She hated to ditch three of her friends like this, but a girl gotta do what a girl gotta do.

“Absolutely.” Chaol nodded, and off he went.

Her footsteps were hurried, knowing she had three men in her tow, but the closer she got, the more certain she was that it was really him. They’ve exchanged flirty texts here and there over the phone, but she hadn’t expected to see him tonight.

“Did Fenrys invite you?” Aelin asked as she sat beside him with no invitation.

Rowan cocked his head, eyes glinting. “I can let myself in.”

“I bet you do.” She took the drink from his hand and took a sip, sending him a witchy look from under her lashes while trying to ignore the bourbon burning down her throat at the same time.

Rowan raised an eyebrow at her. “You did dodge my questions about when I could see you, so I thought I’d get my answer in person.”

She smiled, so very busted. Sneaking out to see a boy required some maneuvering Aelin couldn’t afford with her dad’s new plan and him watching her so closely because of it, but she wouldn’t disclose all that to him.

“Just so you know, I was avoiding that question because I still need to find a time I’ll get that friend of yours off my back.”

“But why?” Rowan asked, smirking. “Taking Fenrys out on a date sounds just lovely.”

Aelin had one palm supporting her chin on the table and another holding Rowan’s bourbon, not knowing where to look—to his gorgeous face or the tattoo on his wrist that his sleeve didn’t manage to cover up—when someone cleared his throat next to them.

It was Fenrys, intrigued onyx eyes focused on her, with Chaol and Dorian next to him. “Your drink, Aelin—all three of them.”

“You took so long that Rowan already got me one,” she said with a straight face, twirling his bourbon in her hand.

Chaol huffed and left, Fenrys placed her Manhattan on the table and positioned himself to watch her from a certain distance, and Dorian watched the scene unfold as if its sight held all answers he sought.

He sipped the drink that was meant for her, then raised it in a greeting. “Prince Rowan.”

Prince?

She widened her eyes at Rowan, just to watch him give Dorian a curt nod and say, “Havilliard.”

Weird. No common person just nodded at a crown prince. Aelin tilted her head, trying to make sense of it.

Rowan’s panicked look under her scrutinizing one sparked the realization, her blood racing.

She should’ve known from the unique silver hair and pine-green eyes combo; even from how Fenrys would refuse to talk about him the same way he did with his job with the Doranelle’s royal family. Aelin felt so dumb for taking days to realize it, but the Whitethorns were so many, it was impossible to keep track of all of them—from the youngest generation, Sellene and Enda were the ones the tabloids focused on.

“You wouldn’t have to keep crashing parties if you weren’t so secretive about your identity, Whitethorn.”

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#rowaelin #throne of glass microfics #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #the courtship deception #tcd

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soubi122 · 9 months

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How Long? - PT 7

One more chapter to go! WARNINGS: Manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, thoughts of baby trapping, fear, angst, anxiety, suggestive, cheating, overall toxic behavior, thoughts of self harm, destructive behavior, so many lies - ugh

True Disaster

For a moment everything went quiet, despite the yelling and screaming, you could only hear Sanzu's words echo in your ears. Was this some sort of sick ‘welcome back’ joke?

As much as you resented him, there was still a small part of you that loved him… Those feelings that began to bloom when you first met him on the island were fading - fast. Everything that came out of his mouth earlier was a lie. He had no problem keeping your old shared bedroom the same and bedding some other woman in it. Now you know for sure that the gods have a sick sense of humor. Bringing him back into your life was already a beautiful deception but the events that followed were a true disaster.

He had said it mere hours ago, ‘I want to start a family’. He got his wish, ohh boy did he get his wish. The quiet chuckle that escaped your lips made Sanzu turn around and look at you in confusion. This should have broken you and left you a sobbing mess. Yet you were laughing and smiling - almost as if your sanity went out the window. “What's so funny dollface?” Sanzu smirks at you. Slowly sitting up, you grip your chest and respond in an icy tone. “He won't set me free. Only a fool would think that…” You didn't mean to insult Sanzu but it was the truth. This was no more than a small hiccup, Ran was no stranger to forcing a woman to get an abortion, he was no stranger to making people disappear - he will do everything it takes for that to happen. Your muscle strength was returning, allowing you to sit up comfortably and place your feet on the floor.

Rushing footsteps had you both turning around to face the rest of Bonten. Some of them looked roughed up, it seems they struggled to keep Ran from setting the office on fire. “Oh, (Y/N), welcome back.” Kakucho said while straightening up his tie. As if there wasn’t a shit storm in the other room - they proceeded to greet you. Rindou couldn’t help but scoff and furrow his eyebrows at you, he still resented you. However, now he felt nothing but pity for you. You were going to be shoved aside yet again. How long was Ran going to keep it up this time?

In the back you could see the morose look on Ran’s face. The moment your eyes connected, he walked in your direction and placed his hand on your head. “Everything will be alright baby. I can fix this.” You remained still and locked eyes with Sanzu. He knew that look all too well and didn't say a thing. Mikey felt the urge to intervene but he noticed the exchange between you and Sanzu. ‘She knows…’ He thinks to himself, there was no reason for you to look at him like that. “Aniki (兄貴), she cannot stay at your place. It’s too risky.” Rindou spoke, he masked his real concern with the excuse that the building staff might recognize you. In reality he was afraid that the woman who was claiming his baby would show up at his home.

Kokonoi and Takeomi agreed, it was too risky for you to stay with Ran. Especially since you were technically dead. The only question was where will you stay? They couldn’t risk you staying at a hotel due to surveillance, none else in Bonten wanted to get caught between the mess Ran created and they did not want a ‘stranger’ in their home. Ran protested, he did not want you out of his sight but Rindou had a valid point. “Mikey, where did you hide her last time?” Takeomi asked. Mikey omitted information of your exact whereabouts in his explanation. You felt a little nauseous when Takeomi asked that question - would Mikey omit it or tell the truth. What if Ran puts the pieces together? What if he decides to end you right here and now? Mikey refused to say as a ‘safety precaution’, stating that he could not compromise Bonten’s safety but assured them that you’d be safe.

“If I hide her, Ran you won’t have access to her.” He said emotionlessly. “What do you mean by that? I can’t see my wife until this little issue is resolved?” Ran asked with a low tone. Wife? Was he fucking serious right now? What the hell did he mean by little issue, this is a huge issue. One bigger than you could have imagined. Questioning the king was a mistake but to avoid conflict - you did something you wished you didn’t.

Pulling Ran in, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You said it would be ok. Please, if this is the only way for me to not jeopardize you or the organization - I’ll do it. I don’t want to cause more trouble than I already have.” Your tone was soft and almost obedient. Sanzu grinned like a madman, he was enjoying your theatrics. Who knew you had it in you, then again pain can make someone change. It was settled with a mere kiss to the cheek - Ran let go of any nagging questions that were burning in his skull when you kissed him. You were now playing a dangerous game. Weakly standing, you bowed to everyone and apologized for deceiving them.

They could only nod and accept your apology as they understood your reasoning. Being told you were loved and then cheated on by your fiancé - it was heartbreaking. Even they could see that. Regardless of Bonten’s cruel nature, they still held a soft spot for you and it showed during their mourning period for you. “(Y/N), I will take you home shortly.” Mikey said and dismissed everyone out of the office. When he spoke, you could feel the warmth in your chest - he was going to protect you again. Allowing you a moment to head to the bathroom, you took the spare toothbrush and toothpaste that they kept in the storage closet (of course they would have all sorts of things here as most of them lived in the office) to wash your mouth and remove the bitter taste of vomit, metal and lingering sweet taste of chloroform.

Afterwards, Ran took your hand and guided you to his office - his hands were cold, almost as if you were holding the hand of a corpse. Shutting the door behind him, he moved you towards his desk and took a seat on the large office chair. Pulling you in and sitting you down on his desk, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your chest. His breathing was unsteady and he held you tightly, he muttered his apologies while remaining buried in your chest. If you didn’t know what you knew now - you would have caved in. This would have been a tender moment between someone who threw a temper tantrum over being told to be patient. Hesitating, you wrapped your arms around him, “Ran, I’m sorry I panicked. I thought you were going to hurt me again.” You say and begin to stroke his hair, almost in a comforting manner. Your false sincerity was convincing, he didn’t question you nor press you any further as to why you fled. He shakes his head, he was letting it go since he had more pressing matters at hand. “What happened? What was all that noise in the other room?” You asked innocently, letting him think that you knew nothing of what was going on.

He squeezes you tightly, almost like a child trying to hide his face from his mother. “Nothing my love, nothing to worry about.” He said and continued to hide his face. You could feel his hands tremble, he was hiding it - was he really going to lie to you again? It felt like he was made up of nothing but lies at this point. You were giving him one final chance to come clean with you - after this there was no going back. Trying to cup his face and tilt his head up, you spoke softly. “Please, it sounded like intense fighting. Be honest with me - I deserve that much, Ran.” He kept his head down and spoke into your chest, he was almost begging you to let it go. “It was nothing, I just got scolded for bringing you in the way I did. I fucked up and could have drawn attention to us. That’s all.” Once again, you felt pain in your chest - if he’s lying to you now, what will stop him lying to you again? This is not just a minor inconvenience, this is the life of another person and a new life that has yet to be born in this world. Who knows how far along this woman was and what she had hanging over his head in order for him to lose this shit. Even now you were already bearing the weight of his lies, they were crushing you little by little and there was no easy way out of this. You knew, you fucking knew that whatever takes place after tonight, it will destroy him and may even destroy you.

“Can we just stay like this a little longer? Please…” He said. You paused for a moment and held him close, biting back the tears that were on the verge of spilling. You exhaled and realized that it was taking a lot out of you to love him. There was no way to peacefully resolve this, someone was bound to lose and for the second time in your life you were forced to make a choice. There was no way to feel anything for him anymore, the lies and trial by fire was too much. Old wounds were beginning to open and bleed, this was going to be the last time you’d ever feel him in your arms, the last time you’d feel his lips on yours and the last time your heart will ever beat for him…

After a few minutes, the knock on the door made you separate from him and face the doorway. It was Mikey, the scene in front of him made a pang in his chest but all he had to do was wait just a little longer. He’d be able to talk to you freely without prying eyes and ears. “It’s time…” He said dryly. Ran finally looked up and at the doorway, he wasn’t ready to part ways with you just yet, but he was rather grateful that you were going to be kept out of sight. He was planning his next move on how to resolve the unplanned pregnancy that fell on his lap. “Just one more minute boss…” Mikey nodded and closed the door. The moment the door shut, Ran stood up and made you face him - pulling you into him again and his lips crashed against yours. He didn’t give you a moment to breathe as his tongue overwhelmed yours, tasting you as if it were the last time. It felt like it was more than a minute. Ran whispered into your lips, “I love you (Y/N). No matter what happens, I will always love you.” It hurts, it hurts so much - oh god it hurts.

Luckily, you didn’t get the chance to speak as Mikey opened the door and signaled for you to follow him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back and Ran didn’t force you either. How could you after everything he put you through? “Wait for me…” He barely managed to say right before you walked out the door. You only looked back and gave him a weak smile before disappearing with Mikey. The rest of the admins and executives only watched as you trailed behind Manjiro like a lost puppy. Keeping your head down, you avoided eye contact with everyone. Sanzu couldn’t hide his shit eating grin, it made Takeomi rather uncomfortable - he knows his brother has many screws loose but this was different. Sanzu knew something that they didn’t, but good luck making him talk - he was the master of secrets and deception.

On the way to this ‘classified’ location, you sat in the passenger seat as Manjiro drove - the silence was overwhelming. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask and so many things you wanted to say, however, you opted not to break down in front of him. When he pulled into an underground garage, you followed him - it was to switch cars to avoid any potential followers finding out where you were going. You remembered the first time he did this and you thought he was really going to kill you. The light snicker made Mikey turn to look at you with a soft smile on his face. “Hm? You’re thinking about the first time?” He says and wiggles his eyebrows up and down teasingly. “You were so scared and yet you continued to follow me without question.” He was right, you were scared shitless yet you didn't run away from him, you trusted him.

Finally, you arrived at his home - it was nostalgic and bittersweet. Walking in, you kicked off your shoes and stood by the doorway, waiting for his permission to move forward. “I know you’re not acting like this is your first time here (Y/N)...” Mikey snickers and lightly pushes you through the entrance. Even though you called this home in the past, it was still surreal to be here again. You couldn’t bring yourself to sit down or touch anything as you felt dirty from lying on the grass and being touched by Ran. “Can I use your shower? I’m covered in dirt and other things..” You say awkwardly. “You don’t have to ask for permission, angel. This will always be your home.” Mikey says and pats your head. He was being gentle and considerate of you.

After taking a long shower, you filled the tub with warm water and a bath bomb. Mikey ended up getting some for himself after you forced him to use one. You melted his stress away with little to no effort that night. Somehow you convinced the King of Bonten to indulge in the little self pleasures of life. Several minutes of sitting in the bath water, you heard a knock on the bathroom door and in walked Mikey. He had two beers in hand and a warm smile on his face. The blush on your face made his heart skip a beat. It’s been far too long since he’s seen you like this…bare and vulnerable. He sat on the edge of the tub and handed you the beer bottle, you could see his eyes drinking in your features and figure. All of a sudden you were self conscious and tried to cover yourself as best you could under the water. Taking sips, you still tried your best to hide your body. Mikey chuckled and began to pat your head, slowly stroking your hair and made you lean into his touch. His touch felt like a warm embrace.

You could feel your heart pound in your chest and the overwhelming sense of guilt began to crash into you. The sound of your unsteady breathing caught his attention, he paused and sighed. “I’m so sorry, angel. I should have warned you when Ran left Tokyo for Wakkanai.” He felt responsible for everything you went through within the last 3 days. You buried your face into the side of his thigh. He didn’t care that you were getting his clothes wet. Mikey felt his heart strings being pulled, seeing you like this reminded him of that time you dove into the deep end. “Mikey, I feel like such a fool.” You barely manage to say. The pain in your chest wouldn’t stop, the throbbing in your head was driving you insane and the feeling of Ran’s lips on yours was making you chew on your bottom lip. At first, there was a small glimmer of hope of taking Ran back but the overall behavior and lies just squashed it.

Without hesitating, Mikey put the bottles on the floor and climbed into the tub fully clothed. He pulled you in and held you tight. “Angel, can you forgive me?” He pleaded, he was angry at himself for making you go through this again and again and again. You felt your heart breaking, he had no reason to apologize, he did what he thought was best - to let you stand on your own two feet. There was no one else to blame but both you and Ran. Manjiro did nothing wrong. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, all the emotions swirling inside of you just bursted out and you were a crying mess. Babbling incoherently and apologizing to Manjiro for being a weak woman, for flinching, for wavering, for sleeping with Ran, for letting him kiss you and hold you. The bathroom was filled with echoes of your cries as you buried your face into his chest.

Memories of Ran’s first betrayal had your body trembling, it didn’t help that the actions that took place earlier today were already chipping away at what little resolve you had left. “Manjiro, did you know about the baby?” You asked him and clutched his shirt as you continued to cry. “No, none of us did. This was just sprung on us the moment Ran brought you to the office.” Mikey said and tilted your head up to face him. “I will get as many details as I can for you so that you can make your decision.” His tone was low, almost glum - he was afraid of losing you again. Seeing you so vulnerable, the temptation was getting the better of him. Slowly he leaned in, ghosting his lips over yours. “Manjiro…” You whisper and pull away. “We can’t…” It hurt the both of you but you were right. This wasn’t the time to give in to desire.

Mikey softly smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, apologizing and was about to leave but your arms reached out for him. “You’ll catch a cold like that.” You say while looking down at the water, you couldn’t face him. Handing him the loofa, you signaled for him to discard his clothes - he smiled and removed his clothing. Oh how your eyes lit up at remembering him. His lean and toned figure, the veins on his arms, the veins somewhere else below… Shyly, you asked him to turn around and he did. Sitting down and placing him between your legs, you pulled him into your chest and hugged him from behind. Feeling your breasts against his bare back had his blood rushing south. His body was so warm and the way his breathing became unsteady, it was making an ache grow between your legs.

Grabbing the shampoo bottle, you begin to wash his silver hair and massaged his scalp. The light scent of lavender filled the room and Mikey relaxed into your touch, closing his eyes and placing his hands on your knees. It was rather nostalgic to you both, it was something he did for you after that one night together. That tender moment made your heart begin to beat for someone other than Ran. Mikey held a special place in your heart, but you were too afraid to commit to him. Even though he is a drastic change from Ran, knowing that they are involved, you sealed off your heart, especially after his refusal to come see you.

Running your hands down the back of his neck, you gently massage it and his shoulders. Your touch had his mind wondering, especially when you traced over his hanafuda tattoo. He lightly pants and runs his hands up your thighs - gripping them a little. “Angel…you’re gonna get me even harder…” Mikey says as a moan escapes his lips when you massaged a particular spot that got his mind muddled in sin. You apologized to him, it wasn’t your intention to get him excited - kind of... “You never came to see me while I was in Wakkanai…” You whisper in his ear, the bewitching tone made his body yearn for your warm walls. Before Mikey could answer, you began to rinse his hair - slightly sitting up on your knees and pressing yourself against him. Running the nozzle on his scalp, you gently wash away the shampoo and continue to lightly massage him. “I didn’t want to risk exposing you - Sanzu would have caught on immediately. You know how paranoid he is.” Mikey says while keeping his eyes closed, his hand began to wander south of his body - his member was fully erect and his body felt like it was on fire.

‘She’s driving me insane…’ He thinks to himself and resists the urge to stroke himself. Once you were done, you grabbed the loofa and washed his back. “Still…you should have come to see me, I waited for you. I keep praying that you'd walk through that door, not Ran.” There was a bit of anguish in your voice, you had a feeling that he didn’t come to see you due to other reasons. Other reasons being that you two made love to each other and made heartfelt promises. Promises that in the end, Manjiro couldn’t keep because of Bonten. He couldn’t find the words to say and remained quiet. Everything continued in awkward silence, even after the bath. Without asking, you went into his closet to grab some clean clothes - Ran still had your stuff at his place. It wasn’t like you to stay upset, especially with Mikey - you never stayed mad at him for more than a minute. Yet, Mikey didn’t do anything to approach you. There was too much fire in your eyes and he didn’t want to get burned.

Once Mikey got dressed, he left the room - the sound of the front door opening and closing signaled his leave. He didn’t want to stay there or else he’d be forced to give in to his selfish desires. When you were apart, he used to call you twice a week just to check in and make sure you were ok. Those calls became less and less when you would ask him to come see you on certain events, like your birthday or his birthday and the grand opening of your café. When he would say yes, he’d only end up disappointing you by canceling literally 1 hour before your meet up time. You always told yourself that it was ok because you understood that Bonten always came first but when he made a habit out of it - you realized that it was more than just Bonten. It was because of you.

On his bed, you curled up and bursted out crying - the pain was too much to bear with the maelstrom of emotions. Your heart was in shambles. Ran was the love of your life and his return left you busted and blue. There was a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe he would have changed. However, the conversation you overheard with Rindou - it made you hit the brakes. What followed was a collision of regret, insanity and obsession. These last few years away from it all, it made you a stronger person but yet he was able to break you down in a mere minute. Even with his pleas of wanting a family, there was a split second of happiness that felt like heaven but it was all too good to be true. Now he’ll be a father to someone else’s baby. The thoughts swirling in your head had you overwhelmed, making your eyes heavy and your body give in to lethargy. Everything faded into black…

*meanwhile*

Ran was pacing back and forth in his office, trying to figure out how to handle the catastrophe that landed on his lap. The women in question? Oh you knew her all too well, it was the same woman who he cheated on you with - Rindou’s ex girlfriend. That woman single handedly destroys everything she touches, fucks any many men she can sink her teeth into and gets whatever she wants at whatever the cost. Ran’s office door swung open and the rest of Bonten walked into his office. “Aniki (兄貴), you need to let (Y/N) go - this shit storm isn’t going away anytime soon.” Rindou’s voice was full of venom. It felt like an eternity for Ran to recover from losing you, Rindou didn’t want to see him like that again. “How the fuck did you let this happen?” Mochizuki asked him, this was the first time he’s ever been pissed off at Ran. He knew his carelessness would one day come back and bite him in the ass but this was beyond what anyone could have imagined.

It turns out that Ran got piss drunk, took her home, fucked her in your shared bed and doesn’t remember what he did or said. But apparently the bitch was sneaky enough to record the whole ordeal, it was the only way to keep Ran at her side - she refused to let go of the life of luxury. She couldn’t get it with Rindou or anyone else but she aimed for Ran after your so-called death. Who else would replace you? He’s been seeing her even after your disappearance and death. Wiping her out of existence wouldn’t be an issue - it’d be the easiest solution but she was smart. She spread the information and video amongst the lower ranks and others who had a personal vendetta against Ran. If she were to go missing, they’d turn in the evidence to the cops and take down Ran. This would also lead to an internal investigation on Bonten. He royally fucked up.

“We need to find everyone she had contact with to make sure they don’t leak any information - we will need to get rid of them and everyone else around them to avoid any potential third party leaks.” Takeomi said and began to look through his contacts - of course the call girls who were in that circle would have information. Bonten can offer more than just money for their loyalty. “Getting rid of the third party folks would be the first step - but we also need to secure that whore at the same time. We can’t risk her sending out any kind of signal to her contacts.” Sanzu said and grinned like a child on Christmas morning. He was a little too excited about this and it shows. “We need to do this quietly… QUIETLY!” Kokonoi said as he looked at Sanzu, everyone knew that he was a loose cannon. “It’s not just Ran who would be jeopardized… Mikey would be too…” Kakucho said and reminded Sanzu of how delicate this operation would be. Though Sanzu couldn’t give two shits about Ran - he did value the safety of his King.

“Ran, she needs to know about this - we don’t know how much information she has access to while in hiding.” Mochizuki said softly, concern was laced on each and every word. Remember, the others did favor you and treated you like family before the fall out. This was way too cruel even for Bonten standards - you don’t deserve to be thrown into the flames again. “She does not need to know a goddamn thing, do you understand me?!” Ran raised his voice. He was cracking. Now Bonten had two things to worry about, this blackmail and Ran’s sanity. “What if she does find out?” The Cheshire cat grin that Sanzu had on his face made everyone uneasy. He’s always ready to end lives but he was indulging in an admin’s/executive’s misfortune. He was almost baring his fangs at Ran, ready to savor the moment that everything comes crashing down on him.

The rest of the night was spent in mapping out that woman’s contacts, they left no stone unturned. In the middle of this Mikey walked in and Sanzu’s grin widened - everyone else was so caught up in Ran’s fucking disaster that they didn’t notice Mikey’s change of clothes. That only led Sanzu to one thing and one thing only - you two were closer than what he makes it seem and Ran doesn’t know a damn thing about it. “Boss…” Sanzu says, trying to hide his excitement. This was one of the main reasons why Mikey couldn’t come to see you. Sanzu was too sharp and would have caught on if he disappeared to come see you, even if it was only for a day.

The admins and executives filled Mikey in with the information gathered and what the plan was. So far, everything sounds good on paper - but the execution of this operation is going to be crucial. “Mikey…is she ok?” Ran asked, uncertainty tainted his every word. He answered dryly and didn’t bother to give him further information. “How long will this operation take? She can’t stay in hiding forever, the longer she stays in Tokyo, the higher the risk of her being recognized..” Mikey said and finalized the plan to move forward. It really didn’t matter how long the operation would take- he just wanted to know how long he’d have you by his side.

*the next day*

Waking up with the sun slapping you in the face, you groan and roll over - not realizing where you were and whose house you were in. Nhn… The scent of sandalwood and warm vanilla made you snap up. “Mikey!” You say his name in a panic. Only silence responded to your call, there was no noise inside the house. Getting up to check the rest of the house, you noticed that Mikey hadn’t returned from the office.

The whole day you paced back and forth - waiting for Mikey to come home. There was no way to communicate with him or anyone, it was making you anxious. Recalling the laptop he had, you searched his home for it in hopes that it still had his phone synced into it. Rummaging through the house, you were not having luck finding it - well that is until you went back to his bedroom. In the closet on the top shelf, the laptop was there just collecting dust, he hasn’t used it since you left. Taking it with you to the living room, you plug it in and run the updates. After what felt like an eternity, it rebooted and was ready for use. Crossing your fingers you prayed that the updates didn’t mess with the synchronization with his phone.

For once the gods did you a favor and let something go your way. You were able to login and see Mikey’s location, he was indeed at the office. Pulling up the messaging app, it made a pang in your heart - the previous messages popped up. This all took place while you were in hiding 3 years ago before he got you a burner phone. The messages started innocent and shy, almost professional in a way. Then they started becoming more friendly and sweet, you could see how little by little both your barriers were coming down. There was no denying that there was something there. The notification sound of a bubble made you jump, it was a notification - a new message. Sure enough when you opened it, it was Mikey.

31/08 - 9:59 a.m. Manjiro Mobile: Angel? What are you doing? End Message

He could see his laptop’s status as Online and it surprised him. You reply and ask him when he will be home and what was going on? The exchange lasted a few minutes, he didn’t want you to stress out and only mentioned that they were all extremely busy. It was driving you up the wall, you needed some air.

31/08 - 10:14 a.m. PC device: Mikey, I need to step out. I have no clothing, no personal care items and you hardly have any food. I will wear a facemask and go to the small convenience store 3 blocks down. I am taking some cash from our little piggy bank. End Message

Mikey did an immediate facetime call - it kept ringing and ringing but there was no reply. By the time the call timed out, he noticed that the pc’s status was offline. Did you just…? Did you just disobey orders? Surely, you were still throwing a hissy fit because of last night, you weren’t going to leave right? “Fuck…” He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, you were still pissed off. “What’s wrong boss?” Kakucho asked, it wasn’t like Mikey to show any sign of frustration. “I need to go…” He said and walked off. Everyone else was too busy to notice that Mikey had disappeared. To be fair, it wasn’t anything unusual.

*meanwhile*

Before leaving Mikey’s house, you made sure to cover up your face with a face mask and hat. The baggy clothes made it hard to determine if you were a woman or a man. Walking down the streets, you tried to keep your eyes peeled to make sure that you wouldn’t run into anyone you knew in the past. Luckily the streets were still empty, from what you knew Mikey's home location was away from admins, executives and underlings - all as a precaution.

While gathering the essentials, you were looking around the store for a quick meal to eat and the sound of someone's giggle made you freeze in place. The sound got louder and louder, as if they were passing by behind you. A chill ran down your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 'It can't be…' You think to yourself and slowly lift your head to look for the source of laughter. There was no forgetting the sound of her voice, you've heard it too many times and even heard it the day you lost your fucking mind. You would have probably lost your life if Mikey wasn't there to catch you. The moment your eyes landed on the smaller brunette at the end of the aisle, you felt as if you were going to pass out - it was her. She had her back turned but you knew, you fucking knew it was the woman who took everything from you. She was laughing without a care in the world and was with two other women. Just as you were beginning to walk away, one of the women's questions made you stop in your tracks. "When are you due again?" Dropping down to pretend to look for something on the floor shelves, you listened to her response. "I'm due towards the end of May, just like her daddy!" She squeals in excitement. There was a voice inside your head that was telling you to turn around and leave but the curiosity got the better of you. The motions felt as if they were in slo mo and she was caressing her belly. You could barely see the bump but when she pulled the fabric of her shirt tight against her stomach, there it was. Their baby…

You felt heat in your face and your vision became blurry. There was no way to prepare for impact. As much as you tried to steel yourself against Ran, it was no use - it's everything you wanted at the beginning of this engagement. Yet it now belonged to someone else. "It took me almost 3 years to convince him to give me a baby… but he finally gave in 2 months ago. He said he wanted to start a family and that he loves me." Her tone was sincere, there was no way to tell if she was lying or not. Now, you felt like the other woman… If he truly said he loved her and agreed to give her a baby, why would he come looking for you? Why would he tell you he loves you? Why would he tell you he wanted a family with you? All these things were said knowing that his heart was somewhere else. The disgust was eating away at you, it felt like you couldn't breathe and everything in sight started to distort. An overwhelming sense of hatred had you clenching your fists so hard that it made you draw blood from your palms.

You felt something snap, the last thread that was keeping your heart strung together just snapped. Leaving the items behind, you exited the convenience store and continued to walk - walking until your legs led you to his front door. Your mind was so muddled and the maelstrom of emotions was enough to block out all other sounds around you. Strangers were staring at you and some even tried coming up to you to ask if you were ok as your hands were bleeding. But you just kept walking, you kept moving forward - not even bothering to take a moment to pause for crosswalks. Surprisingly enough you didn’t get hit by a car or run into something.

Making your way up to the top floor of your old home, you unlocked the door using the spare key he always kept magnetized on top of the door frame. Entering the penthouse, your eyes scanned the entire space - things that you didn’t notice before were now like giant red flags that screamed at you. Someone else was staying here rather often, there were feminine decorations and items lying around that you knew for sure did not belong to Ran. Opening the foyer closet, you saw a few pairs of women’s shoes, a woman’s jacket and handbags. You ran to the bathroom to check for feminine products and other shit that hinted at him having someone else living with him. Sure enough, beauty products were on the counter with scented candles and an extra tooth brush.

How the fuck was he going to explain all this to you? You were bound to see these things the same day of your arrival. The last straw was the bedroom, even though he kept things the way they were when you left - her things were in your drawers and closet space. Ran was an idiot for finding you without thinking things through. This would have been more than enough to signal that he hasn’t changed and that he was messing around with the same bitch. The qualm was eating away at you, you should have noticed all these things when you arrived yesterday but you were too anxious to notice them. He was the same fucking idiot that you left 3 years ago, nothing changed - he didn’t change.

The sound of a phone vibrating caught your attention, it was sitting on his side of the nightstand - this wasn’t his phone. It looked like a Bonten burner phone. In the pit of your stomach you felt a gross sense of curiosity. The voice inside your head was screaming at you not to touch it and to get the fuck out of there, call it a woman’s intuition or whatnot, but of course, you were human - human to a fucking fault. Picking up the phone you touch the screen and slide the bar to unlock it. Sure enough a wave of regret and anger washed over you. The home screen was another woman… and it wasn’t even the pregnant one. The notification bubble popped up again and the contact name was a nickname ‘Cocksleeve’. It made you sick to your stomach. You hated yourself for what you did next. You opened his messenger app and lo and behold - dozens of his contacts had half naked profile pictures with trashy nicknames. It got worse as you scrolled through the messages, videos of them and him - so much for saying that he never stopped thinking about you. The worst part was that a lot of these were recent. You wanted nothing more than to set yourself on fire and cleanse your body from his touch.

Even though you already made the choice to leave Ran, the blossoming rage inside you wanted to make him suffer. You promised yourself back in Wakkanai that you wouldn’t hurt him, you weren’t like that…you weren’t like him. Now all the memories were too stained with blood to even think back on any happy moments with him. Everything that played inside your head were his actions of betrayal, his spiteful words and the distorted I love yous - it was making your head spin. You dropped the phone and chuckled, the chuckles turned into giggles, the giggles into full blown laughter with tears streaming down your face. You were now sure that god didn’t exist, there was no way that he would allow something that cruel to happen to anyone - either that or god had it out for you.

Smashing the proposal photo that was on his nightstand, you took the picture out of frame and tore it to shreds, you couldn’t feel the glass shards on your finger tips. The blood stained the scraps of photo paper and tainted the floor. Walking over to the dresser and vanity, you knocked everything off - smashing the expensive perfume bottles. The stinging in your palms was nowhere near the pain that you felt in your chest. Grabbing the broken bottle, you fling it into the mirror - shattering the image of yourself. The force was enough to send shards in your direction, causing small cuts on your face. You lost control of yourself. Going through his closet, you opened the leather suitcase that has his old gang’s uniform and mementos. Inside was also his baton, his favorite weapon of choice as a fucked up teenager. Taking the baton, you proceeded to smash all the mirrors, lights and anything you know he valued.

In a way you were setting yourself free from his lies and bullshit. If someone were to walk in on you now, they would have confused you for someone who escaped out of the insane asylum. By the time you finished destroying everything you could, your arms felt like lead and your body was covered in specs of blood. Grabbing his burner phone, you tucked it inside your backpack and left his apartment. Taking your old car keys from the key rack, you headed back to Manjiro’s house and prepared yourself to make the final blow… Ran was going to feel every ounce of rage you had pent up inside you. At this point you didn’t care whether or not you’d live to see tomorrow. You just wanted him to suffer…

Tags: @rinrinfoxy @mor-pheus @no-signal-found @namelessnikki2 @gabi-moureira @spookys-s @slvtmeow @jinii-desu @mmmaaannnsssiii @3xchooo @kokotakeomi @no-name-jack @barriesandcrem @reidsmexyconverse @waterfallsdown @1980losersliveinme @gabytodd @simp4ren @fffsksixj @whatsonthemirror @jcrml @reiners-milkbiddies @unr-u-1y @bakugosgf2005 @whoisneth @bluephoenix908 @asmosslut @laurenzitaa @uniqueeggtoast @arlertsbaby @ilivefortheleague @mytaiyakeylover @niko-ash

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