Tumgik
#i just didn't like the idea that they're both perfect all the time
thetomorrowshow · 2 years
Text
froze in shock
empires superpowers au masterlist (incomplete)
i'm this close to dropping my title scheme
cw: angst, nightmares, seeing someone dead in ur dreams?, relationship fights
this story takes place approximately 7 months after the end of 'poisoned rats'.
~
For the most part, Scott loves Jimmy’s strange behaviors and quirks. He loves the way he knocks four times before opening any door. He loves the way he glares through slitted eyes at any sort of electronic appliance. He loves the way he never takes his wallet anywhere and tries to just waltz out of stores without paying.
Something he doesn’t exactly love is just how stiff Jimmy is all the time.
Not personality-wise, or emotionally, but physically. When they watch movies all cuddled up together, Jimmy stares at the screen without seeming to need to shift his seating position, even as Scott readjusts about a billion times. They read together and Jimmy doesn’t move an inch from where he’s curled up on the couch. They lie in bed and Scott tries to sleep, but Jimmy is absolutely motionless in his arms.
It’s just frankly weird, and too many times Scott’s poked Jimmy to make sure he’s still alive only for Jimmy to turn those big puppy-dog eyes on him, terribly wounded by a little prod. Scott always rolls his eyes and cuddles Jimmy a bit closer, putting it out of his mind. That is, until today.
It’s the weekend, and Scott wakes up this morning after a terrible nightmare (He’s too late, Jimmy’s on the ground with blood dripping from his mouth and utterly motionless, he hasn’t got a pulse and no matter how many times Scott shakes him he doesn’t rouse), but he shakes it off and slips out of bed to make pancakes, eyes lingering on the sleeping form of his boyfriend.
Ever since he was eighteen, cooking’s something he’s done to keep his mind occupied. It had taken quite a bit of work on Aeor’s part to get rid of the idea that only women cook, only women do chores, but once that particular brand of toxic masculinity had been debunked, he’d grown to love cooking. It's a safe haven, a place to stretch some mental muscles and focus solely on the task at hand. Plus he usually gets something delicious out of his labor, so while others may consider cooking a chore, Scott sees it as one of his favorite pastimes.
He’s just finished the first couple of pancakes when Jimmy shuffles out of the bedroom, pajama shirt half off and hair sticking up. He yawns, leans over Scott’s shoulder for a kiss (Scott smiles and acquiesces, taking in his boyfriend alive and safe and moving), then heads off in the direction of the bathroom.
“Love you!” Scott calls after him. He gets a faint grunt in reply.
When Jimmy exits the bathroom after half an hour, his hair is tamed and his eyes are actually open. He hasn’t showered, which isn’t exactly abnormal, but Scott’s not sure if it’s a trauma thing today or if he just wants pancakes.
Jimmy makes a beeline for the cupboard, retrieving a plate, then a fork from the drawer below. He kisses Scott on the cheek when he reaches over him for the steadily growing collection of pancakes, nabbing two before continuing to the table.
“Sleep well?” Scott asks lightly, blinking back images from his nightmare.
“Fine, I guess,” Jimmy says, and there’s still traces of sleep in his voice that make Scott grin to himself. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Scott nods, flips a pancake. He reaches up into the cupboard above the stove, pulls out the syrup and hands it to Jimmy, who is currently bent over in the fridge for butter.
“Do you have to superhero today?” Jimmy asks after a few minutes, and Scott shrugs.
“It’s not my day for patrol, but I could be called out at any time. If that happens, do you want me to ask Lizzie to come over?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
Elle curls around Scott’s legs, purring softly. He knows what she wants, which is why he’s already made and set aside two tiny pancakes. One of these he dangles between his fingers, drops into Elle’s mouth when she leaps up to catch it. Norman skitters into the room as if sensing the food, gives Scott the most innocent look ever. Scott chuckles, kneels down with the other tiny pancake and holds it out to him. Norman barely takes it in time, Elle lunging forward to try and snatch it.
“You’re such a good cat dad,” Jimmy mumbles around a mouthful of pancake. “Makin’ ‘em pancakes an’ all.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “Right, because they would never whine at me until I gave them one anyways.”
He finishes up the pancakes, clicking the stove off and rinsing the mixing bowl out in the sink. Then he serves himself some pancakes, sits down next to Jimmy, stifling a yawn.
Jimmy, of course, notices, brows crinkling with concern. “Scott, dear, did you sleep last night?”
He did sleep, of course. Just not very well. Scott doesn’t need to answer, though, because Jimmy keeps speaking.
“You look exhausted. Maybe you should nap after breakfast.”
Scott shovels a bite of pancake in his mouth. Now that he’s sitting down, he really feels what Jimmy’s saying. He just wants to lean back and close his eyes for a little bit, and his bed sounds almost heavenly.
“Maybe,” he agrees. The more he thinks of it, the more appealing it sounds. It's not like it takes much convincing to get him to do something he wants to do, though. “Wake me up if the hero phone rings?”
Jimmy smiles, bounces a little in his seat. “I didn’t actually think I would convince you!” he says. “You must be really tired. Of course I will, of course! Just go rest, my love! I’ll clean this up.”
Scott chuckles, leans over for a sticky kiss. “Okay. I’ll go to bed.”
-
Scott shoots up with a gasp—Jimmy’s gone, he’s dead, he’s lying unmoving on the floor and there’s no blood but his skin has taken on a grey pallor and there’s nothing Scott can do but take his pulse over and over with no results—and Jimmy’s in front of him, hands up placatingly.
What?
“Are you awake?” Jimmy asks cautiously, and Scott glances around the blurry world only for his bedroom to come into focus. He blinks at Jimmy again, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the one he’d just seen.
A dream. A nightmare.
The Jimmy before him—the real Jimmy, the living, breathing Jimmy—is shirtless, a towel tied around his waist. The scars that mar his torso are a shiny pink, his hair wet and flat against his head. In his hand is a flip-phone, outstretched toward Scott.
“They’re calling for you, but I can tell them you’re sleeping if you like,” Jimmy says, squinting at him. Scott takes a moment to regulate his breathing, still out of control after a repeat of last night’s dream.
“Yeah, no, I’ll go out,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and kicking off the tangled sheets. “Does the message say who the villain is?”
“The Oracle,”  Jimmy reads. “Apparently Joel went up against him, but you know how sensitive he is to the Oracle’s powers.”
Scott sucks in a breath, suddenly fully awake. That’s bad news. “They should’ve called me right away. Is Joel okay?”
Jimmy shrugs.
“Right, tell them I’m getting ready.” Scott rolls out of the bed, heads to the closet. “Sure you don’t want to come?”
Jimmy snorts. “Right. I’m gonna get back to my shower. Have fun out there, love you.”
“Love you,” Scott calls after his retreating back, before slipping his supersuit on. Apparently he’s got a villain to fight.
-
The Oracle is a quiet villain with haunted eyes, and Scott hates fighting him these days because of how much that reminds him of Jimmy. He scares him off anyways, helps Joel (who is tugging on his own hair, eyes squinted shut as he lies curled on the sidewalk) to Lizzie, then returns home, somehow more exhausted than he was before he took his nap.
Jimmy’s on the couch when he gets back, Norman on his lap as he watches whatever it is he’s watching. He lights up when Scott stumps through the back door, kicking off his boots and pulling off his mask.
“Hello, my love!” Jimmy says brightly, pausing his show. “I’d get up to kiss you, but Norman is asleep on me.”
Scott can’t help but smile at him. “It’s fine, Jimmy. How about I go change out of this and then we put on the next episode of Stranger Things?”
Jimmy agrees and soon enough they’re both on the couch cuddled up to each other, Norman having slunk off to some other room. Scott flips through the episodes until he finds the one they’re on, then settles in, the bowl of popcorn that Jimmy had prepared resting on his lap.
They’re barely past the title screen of the second episode when Scott feels the exhaustion start to take over. His limbs grow heavy, his eyelids flutter shut, he sighs and lets his head rest more heavily on Jimmy’s shoulder.
And then Jimmy’s dead under him, too still to be anything but that, and his heart isn’t beating under Scott’s ear and he doesn’t know how it happened—
“Scott—Scott!”
Scott’s eyes shoot open and he sees Jimmy, eyes wide, hands pushing gently against his chest. But he’s still so motionless—Scott’s hands are gripping his shoulders and he shakes him, Jimmy has to wake up he can’t be dead he just can’t be—
“Scott!” Jimmy cries out, fear flashing across his face before he fully pushes him away.
Scott blinks, takes in his surroundings.
He’s on the couch in his living room. The TV is playing something—Stranger Things—on low volume, like Jimmy had turned it down so he could rest easier. Jimmy’s on the far end of the couch from him, hands up defensively.
And maybe Scott’s just exhausted. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been able to sleep lately without being haunted by nightmares of Jimmy dead under his fingers. Maybe the fight with the Oracle had tipped him over the edge. But instead of doing what a good partner would do, instead of apologizing and explaining his actions, instead of offering Jimmy a hug and safety, Scott lashes out.
“I thought you were dead!” he spits, hands clenched in fists. “I—I keep dreaming that you’ve died, that I was too late to save you, and then you make everything worse by how freakishly still you are all the time! It’s like cuddling with a statue, I swear! I woke up from a nightmare that you weren’t moving and you weren’t moving here, either! I just—” dread (or maybe tears) chokes him, but Scott continues— “I just wish you weren’t weird like that.”
There’s a moment of silence as all those ugly words hang in the air between them, and for a moment Scott feels viciously pleased, pleased that they’re finally out of his head. Then that moment is gone and Jimmy is rolling off the couch and running into their bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.
Scott sits there for a moment, fuming. Oh, so he doesn’t get to be critical of anything? Jimmy’s just scared him half to death, and Scott doesn’t even get the chance to ask him to not do that?
And then his brain seems to catch up with his mouth.
Oh no.
Scott may have no idea why Jimmy doesn’t fidget. It may bother him a lot. That doesn’t mean he gets to blame Jimmy for it. It doesn’t mean he gets to be mad at Jimmy. If something about Jimmy’s actions truly bothers him, he’s meant to talk it out with his therapist and figure out the best conversation that can be had for the both of them over the issue, and remember that they both have to make concessions for this relationship to work. This is certainly something he can concede.
Not anymore. Not now that he’s ruined everything. Jimmy hates him. He’d yelled at him for something that he probably didn’t even realize that he was doing, for something that Scott had never even expressed bothers him. And now Jimmy’s going to break up with him and Scott deserves it.
Maybe he can fix things, a little bit. Or at least find a way to apologize to Jimmy before he leaves him.
Scott dashes away the tears that have begun to roll down his cheeks, kicks off the blanket that he doesn’t remember putting on and trips over the overturned popcorn bowl, knocking even more kernels all over the carpet. He sighs, crouches down, and begins picking up each piece to throw away. He could get the vacuum out—he should get the vacuum out—but this is more difficult, and he deserves more difficult.
Once he’s collected it all, he carries the bowl to the kitchen and dumps it in the trash, then puts the bowl in the sink. From there, he rinses any other various dishes and loads them into the dishwasher, then opens the fridge and gets out the ground beef he’d set to defrost the day before.
They’d planned lasagna for dinner. He sets a pan on the front right burner, plops the ground meat into it with some oil and onion flakes, then sets a pot of water to boil on the back left burner. He moves mechanically, just following step after step, repeatedly blinking back tears. This is something he knows how to do, something he knows Jimmy will enjoy eating.
As if summoned by the thought of him, the bedroom door creaks open and Jimmy sidles out, pads down the hall and into the kitchen. Scott doesn’t look at him, just wipes his nose on his sleeve and stirs the meat.
“Babe,” Jimmy says softly, stepping closer. “Baby, you’re overworking yourself. Sit down, yeah? You literally fell asleep on my shoulder earlier.”
Scott sucks in a shuddering breath, reluctantly lets Jimmy pry the spatula from his fingers. At another nudge, he falls into his chair at the kitchen table.
He hadn’t realized just how far he was pushing himself until he sits down, feels his muscles relax, soreness he hadn’t noticed resolving into relief.
He shouldn’t be feeling relief. He should still be struggling. He deserves to struggle.
“Now. We need to talk about what just happened,” Jimmy tells him, tossing the meat around. “To start off, I’m sorry.”
Scott blinks. “I—sorry for what?” he asks incredulously. “You didn’t do anything!”
“I’m sorry for running out when you were hurting,” Jimmy says simply. “I should have stayed and tried to talk you through it, but I panicked and bolted. I want to get better at staying in uncomfortable conversations, and it’s something I’m going to talk to my therapist about.”
He’s so perfect. Jimmy’s the most perfect boyfriend in existence, and that’s why Scott doesn’t deserve him. He didn’t do anything wrong, Scott was the one to freak out on him for no reason—
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Scott sniffles. “Thinkin’ about how much I don’t deserve you.”
“Okay. And what upset you earlier?”
Scott’s not sure how to say it, because now that they’re in the brightly lit kitchen and Jimmy’s tapping the spatula against the rim of the pan, it seems ridiculous. “I—” he cuts himself off, arms twitching up like he’s about to hide his head in them. Maybe he should. “I’ve been having bad dreams,” he says eventually. “Where you . . . where I’m too late. And they’ve k-killed you. And it always ends the same way—I’m listening for your heartbeat, and there’s nothing, and you’re so very very still—and I should’ve never freaked out at you about it, you—”
Jimmy snorts. “‘I should’ve never freaked out at you about it’ should be the title of my autobiography.”
“Yeah, but—” Scott’s hands are shaking, he’s not sure why— “but I had literally no reason! And you might have a reason for not fidgeting, and—” “Whoa, back it up!” Jimmy sets the spatula down, turns to him, his brows raised in concern. “Do you think I have no reason for freaking out when I have a panic attack over the door being closed?”
“I—what? No! But that’s a trauma response, it’s—” “And you think your nightmares aren’t a trauma response?”
Scott stops. Thinks. 
It’s . . . it’s certainly possible that rescuing Jimmy was a traumatic enough experience that he can’t stop dreaming about it. But. . . .
“But that’s your trauma,” Scott whispers. “I—it wasn’t bad for me. I shouldn’t be upset over it when it didn’t even happen to me.”
Silence for a moment. “Scott,” says Jimmy eventually. “After you rest, I hope you realize how stupid that just was.”
“I—what—?” Scott sputters, but Jimmy continues speaking.
“Trauma doesn’t discriminate! And secondhand trauma is a thing that exists. It doesn’t have to happen to you for you to be traumatized. Like—uh, like when Mythics accidentally flashed you that one time? I may have just been in the crowd, and I wasn’t the one who had to help him pull his pants back up, but I was certainly traumatized.”
Scott laughs in spite of himself, some of the tension oozing out of him. Jimmy’s right, and he knows it. He’s even talked to Nora about secondhand trauma and what signs to look out for. He really is just exhausted.
Still.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a minute, “for saying what I did. Sure, it could have been a trauma reaction, but that doesn’t mean I had to say all that.”
Jimmy nods. “Thank you. It sounded like it was something that’s been building up for a while.”
Scott shrugs. It has been, but he doesn’t want to say it.
“I don’t know why I’m so still all the time,” Jimmy says thoughtfully, opening a box of lasagna noodles. “I don’t remember if I used to fidget or not. If I had to guess. . . .” He pours the noodles into the boiling water, pokes at them with a wooden spoon. “Y’know, thinking back I think I did fidget a lot in school. But you’re looking at a guy who had to spend days lying frozen on an operation table.”
Guilt surges through Scott, but before he can open his mouth Jimmy continues.
“But then again, I’ve had to sleep in a lot of tight spaces over the years where there wasn’t room to move. And there was a year or so when I was younger that I was so scared of myself that I barely dared to move. And also, the education system sucks for neurodivergent kids and they might’ve just trained it out of me when I was real small. I really don’t know. I have my theories, but there’s no way to really know. In any case, I never meant to scare you.”
“If I didn’t feel like a jerk before, I definitely do now,” Scott admits. “Being tired is no excuse. I shouldn’t have been so nasty about it. I’ll talk to Nora, try to work out why I responded like that.”
“And I’ll work on moving occasionally, so you feel more comfortable!”
“What?” That’s—no— “Jimmy, no. I don’t want you to change your behavior, you haven’t done anything wrong!”
Jimmy turns the heat of the lower right burner on low, sets down the spatula. He leaves the food to sit beside Scott, takes his hands in his own.
“Petal,” he says seriously. “When you started leaving doors open for me, that was a change in your behavior to keep me safe, even though you weren’t doing anything wrong by closing them.”
“Yeah, but—”
“When I asked you to not stand over me if I’m on the floor, that was a change in your behavior that you made and you definitely didn’t have to, but you choose to crawl across rooms sometimes so that I feel safe. When I asked you not to touch my head, you immediately stopped, even though it was an instinct for you.” Jimmy kisses one of Scott’s hands, smiles softly. “This isn’t a big change for me. And it’ll help you feel safe. Let me do this for you.”
Scott bites his lip. “But what if it is a big change for you? What if you try to fidget and have a flashback?”
“Well, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Jimmy shrugs. He stands, squeezing Scott’s hands before letting go. “Now how about I finish making this, and you hop in the shower, and then we can eat and go to bed. Sound good?”
It sounds wonderful, especially when Scott had convinced himself not long ago that he deserved to be dumped by Jimmy. Maybe his thoughts today haven’t exactly been rational.
He showers, and they eat, and they turn in early but lie in bed and finish their episode on Scott’s laptop. When it’s over and Scott puts the laptop to the side, Jimmy snuggles up to his chest and closes his eyes.
“I feel like I really messed up today,” Scott whispers.
Jimmy hums. “Maybe you did mess up. But we’ll get through it. And tomorrow we can talk about it more to really sort out the issue, okay?”
“Okay.”
Jimmy tilts his head up, presses a soft kiss to Scott’s lips. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
Scott wakes in the middle of the night, frantically reaching for Jimmy’s arm to take his pulse. Jimmy just sniffs, mumbles something in his sleep, presses himself closer to Scott.
Scott watches his chest rise and fall until he feels secure. Then he lets his eyes flutter closed and finally falls into a dreamless sleep.
61 notes · View notes
virgamsysxvolumes · 2 months
Text
>:O
Idea: Okay so normally with all the Time Traveler that comes back to prevent the apocalypse tagged into the dcxdp tag the guy traveling back sees Danny or Dan and either trying to take out the threat or thinking they can "correct the behavior" to avoid the future.
BUT!! What if like Flash or whoever goes back and meets Danny first and thinks the usual "Oh I can mentor him and prevent him turning evil!" except later, after Danny trusts them enough Big Reveal: Danny has a daughter and son. They're introduced to the small toddlers that this teen hero is showing him absolute trust in revealing and they see Dan in that tiny son. It's Dan.
"Flash! I want to introduce you to my babies!" Danny spoke so excitedly, not at all minding the confusion and alarm flashing across the adult hero's face.
"Babies?! You're sixteen!" Flash blurted alarmed.
"I know, I know. They were...well there was an incident...a very violent and kind of...forget it. There was an incident and I have babies! I want to introduce you to my twins!" Danny told him, sort of pained and floundering. Danny had never been very good at hiding his emotions so Flash could read the alarming red flags in the things he was telling him.
Flash was trapped somewhere between horror and numbness as he grinned and didn't even hear himself agree to meet the twins. He was trying to calculate how this event fit into Danny becoming Dan. Was it the trauma? Did something happen to his children? What was going on here? He didn't know that Dan had any family, though after meeting Danny he had realized that he'd actually had parents, a sister, and pseudo siblings in his friends so a fairly large family that Dan had never talked about.
Danny was so excited as he showed Flash the two tiny toddlers he had hidden nearby. They looked closer to two years old and that only alarmed Flash more deeply. But what made it worse was that looking down at their tiny faces Flash saw Dan. The boy was adorable and with chubby cheeks but the features that he had originally thought Danny would grow into once he got older were already present in the baby boy.
"This is my daughter Danielle Celeste Fenton and my younger son Danior Altair Fenton. Aren't they just the cutest!?" Danny seemed to miss the horrifying pit that had opened in Flash's chest and cuddled and kissed the toddlers who both giggled at the actions. "They like to be called Dani and Dan though."
Flash felt like everything he had previously known or thought had shattered into pieces. He couldn't speak for a few brief moments before he smiled somewhat pained at Danny.
"Can I as who their other parent is?" Flash asked. Danny clearly hesitated for a bit.
"Their father is Vlad Plasmius, he...he wanted a perfect son and when I wouldn't comply voluntarily he decided to force the matter." Danny confessed a little sadly, hugging his children protectively to his far too small chest. Flash felt like the floor had collapsed out from under him.
"Plasmius!? Plasmius forced you to-!" Flash was fuming, he didn't even know he could get this absolutely livid.
There were a million and one things going through Flash's head. So many things he now was beginning to piece together into something truly ugly. There had been no Danny in the future, no sister Dani either, but there had been Vlad Masters. A Vlad Masters who had taken credit quite often in creating the monster Dan. A Vlad Masters who everyone knew had once been Plasmius before Dan had done something to tear the powers from him.
Flash suddenly realized that his mission suddenly went from preventing Danny from becoming Dan, to ensuring that Danny survived to raise Dan himself and never allow Masters to gain custody ever.
3K notes · View notes
moonfireshadow · 3 months
Text
Rewatched Saltburn and I'm obsessed with Farleigh and Oliver's tutoring scene. The essay specifically. For those who don't remember: Oliver did his homework and all his assignments and genuinely gave a well thought out essay for their summer assignments. Farleigh shows up hungover and late and didn't even read the books. But the teacher immediately loves Farleigh and is chatting him up with an interest he barely tried to show Oliver. Even after Oliver gives his presentation and shows that he's clearly a much better student than Farleigh. Obviously this is the real start of their rivalry. But it's also such a beautiful look into their characters and how they mirror eachother. Farleigh understands Oliver's essay, I believe. But like the teacher he's bored by it. The knowledge and work is there, but the presentation of it is boring and strange. Academic and correct, but lacking the appeal to the audience. (Which, can we talk about the fact Farleigh was genuinely listening at all? The teacher zoned out and switched channels, but Farleigh was interested and paying enough attention to know the exact number of times Oliver used the word "thus" in his essay. They respect each other truly even if they despise eachother at this point, and refuse to acknowledge the grudging respect.) So Farleigh does what he does best, he gloats over Oliver. He picks apart the style of the essay and it's presentation rather than addressing the central argument or topic. This delights the teacher and frustrates Oliver who is like, "so you're going to critique the style of my essay rather than it's substance? Seems a bit lazy" and that's the core component of these two characters.
Farleigh is ALL about presentation. He knows how fragile his pedistal is placed up and in view for everyone to see. He's a charity project, just like every other rando of the month. Sure he has some familiar connection, and that's given him a leg up in this world. But it's still shakey at best. He always has to give the correct performance, say the right words, keep his audience on HIS side. Unless he wants to get knocked down with the rest of the common rabal that he knows he's belongs with, but can't stand the idea of. So yes, of course he picks apart the one thing he knows Oliver is failing at. He takes his one advantage over Oliver and uses it mercilessly to both entertain and secure his audience on his side. (I wonder if the positions had been different some how, if Farleigh would have had anything to say about the substance of the essay itself. He was paying attention to it, did he want to have a real academic conversation? Did he possibly want to try and connect to Oliver in that way? A real and non performative way with someone who's so similar to him?)
As for Oliver, obviously his character is intelligent. He does the readings. He does the research. He puts the time and effort in to *learn* in the way Farleigh never does. And it must infuriate him that his essay is so easily pushed to the side for a cheep critique that doesn't even address the central argument of his essay. Of course he would hate Farleigh from the start for that. It's such a quick negation of all that Oliver has to offer and give just because it's not wrapped up in a pretty bow. And that's just his character. The substance is there, the intelligence is there. But it's not enough. It will never be enough. Because Oliver doesn't know how to translate it to his audience in a way they'll care about. He learns and tries to mimic, but it always falls short because he just can't seem to figure out the way to blend in and present himself so seamlessly as Farleigh.
And that's why they're such perfect mirrors of each other. They're both intelligent and clever. But they've found different ways of getting what they want and proving themselves. Farleigh is the face and the presentation, Oliver is the substance and body. In another world imagine what these two could have done and been if they hadn't been pitted against each other for the same prize. And the fact Oliver definitely deliberately shoved Farleigh out at the perfect time so he wouldn't get hurt and killed? Oliver and Farleigh respect and admire the other. But their tragedy is they can never be on the same page or team because the world they're in says there is only room for one. And they'd both do anything to get that title.
1K notes · View notes
rogueddie · 2 months
Text
Stitched Together T | 698 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing
"Do you still have my vest?"
"Hello to you too?" Steve says, raising his eyebrows when Eddie takes that as his cue to push past Steve, into his house.
He quickly kicks the door behind him, curling an arm around Steve's waist to reel him into a quick kiss. "Hello! My old vest- you got it?"
"I do- I haven't been able to get the blood out yet."
"Oh, I don't want it," Eddie waves him off, already halfway up the stairs. "Come on, I need to see it!"
"What- Eddie!"
Steve hurries up the stairs after Eddie, who takes them two steps at a time. He hovers at Steve's bedroom door though, rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting.
It's then that Steve noticed the plastic bag that he's holding.
"You gonna explain?"
"In a minute! I need to see my old vest first."
"It's in my closet," Steve explains, leading him into his room and pointing.
Eddie immediately jumps over to the closet, glancing back at Steve before he opens it to make sure it's ok for him to dig through it.
It doesn't take him long to find the vest, face splitting into a grin as he pulls it out.
"Perfect."
"So... what's going on?"
"I'm gonna make a new one. Wanted to remind myself how this bad boy is layed out first."
"Oh?"
"I'll only need it for, like, a few hours. I can get it back to you by the end of the day."
"What? Wh- you brought your stuff here."
"Yeah, I'm gonna stitch it together in the van. I was thinking about going out to the quarry."
"You could- I mean, if you want to, you could just... do it here? If you want to. I'm just gonna be baking today anyway."
"Hell yeah. Any excuse to spend more time with you is a great idea in my book."
Eddie follows him downstairs, setting up on the sofa in the living room, while Steve continues past him into the kitchen.
Steve pokes his head back in after a minute.
"You didn't want to talk, did you?"
"I know how you get when you bake," Eddie reminds him. "I'm ok here. If I need anything, I know where everything is."
"You could ask-"
"No, I couldn't. It's ok, babe. Really. It's nice to just... know you're here."
"Oh. Really?"
"Really."
Steve goes back into the kitchen, but it's not long before he's washed the side, the bowls and utensils he used. All he needs to do is wait for his food to bake.
He wanders back into the living room, sitting on one of the arm chairs.
Eddie barely glances up, focused on his task.
He doesn't seem bothered that Steve is staring, so he just... watches.
It's surprisingly nice. Comforting.
He can see how much care Eddie is putting into each patch, taking his time when pinning them in place and being careful with each stitch.
By the time the kitchen timer goes off, Eddie has only managed to stitch two patches on and started on the backpatch.
He follows Steve into the kitchen once he's done putting his things away, just in time for him to start plating.
"Looks delicious."
"Mhmm," Steve grins. He pulls Eddie closer with a hand on his hip as soon as he's within reach. "You?"
"Got two done in the time it usually takes me to stitch on one, so, I consider it a win."
"Good."
He tries to lean in, pepper Eddie's neck with kisses until he caves the way he always does, easily following Steve up to-
"We should do this more often," Eddie continues. "Hanging out like this. It's... nice. It really is."
"Yeah," Steve agrees, reluctantly pulling back. He can't bite back his sappy smile though. "You're gorgeous when you get into your passions."
"Careful, Harrington. Keep talking like that and people might start thinking you're in love with me."
"Mmm, I don't know, they might be into something."
His attempt to kiss Eddie is ruined by how much they're both laughing.
Steve is pretty sure it's one of the best days that he's ever been fortunate enough to live.
891 notes · View notes
undyingoracle · 2 months
Note
hai omg can you do alastor reacting to the person he's courting giving him flowers instead of the other way around
Alastor reacting to you giving him flowers.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
warnings: gn!reader. romantic scenario. might be ooc. sorry about that.
A/N: I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS IDEA. At first, I wanted to write something like him just getting flattered by it? but I think he would be more upset and disappointed that he wasn't the one who was giving you flowers. after all, "he's a gentleman and should spoil his beloved with that kind of gifts every time he got the chance to." (that's what he thinks, at least). Hope you can enjoy it anon! ;; thanks for your request. ♡
English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. feel free to correct me as long as you're polite about it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝅭ㅤ𝅭ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤㅤִㅤㅤ୨ ♡ ୧ㅤㅤִ ⎯⎯ ㅤ𝅭ㅤ𝅭
February 14th. a date everyone knew the meaning of. a date where everyone did their best to show off to their loved ones, to spoil them or even fall into the deepest of the lustful desires.
however, for the radio demon it was a pretty irrelevant date. he didn't really saw the meaning of it, and therefore, he didn't get as excited as other people did, and it wasn't exactly because he didn't got gifts or attention during it, in fact he did get lots of gift, specially from people of the cannibal town (who seemed to like him quite a lot). however, all those gift were meaningless to him, and he even hate most of them, since they're usually some kind of sweets, and he isn't really a fan of them, so they ended up in the trash or someone else's hands. he just didn't cared about it, nor the people who gave it to him.
nevertheless, this time it was a little different. he had someone in mind he wanted to give a gift to, and since a few weeks ago that thought has been running around his mind. but being quite unused to being on the giving end on this dates, he was conflicted on what to get to his special someone. flowers? he already got them flowers before, a lot of times and a lot of different types and colors. chocolates? he couldn't even stand the sweet smell of them. other kind of desserts had the same effect. and just like that, he keep discarding ideas that wasn't good enough for him. he wanted to blow you mind, he couldn't just do the simplest things!
soon enough, he asked for advice to the best person: Rosie, who, after giving some other ideas that were also discarded, ended up suggesting that he invited you to have dinner together, but instead of going out to a fancy restaurant, both of you just stayed at the hotel and HE cooked the most mind blowing meal himself. that way not only was he able to show off his cooking skills, but he also was able to make sure that everything was perfect. to the decoration, to the lighting, to the ambience music, to the flavors. he was simply in control of everything. he agreed to this, he thought it was a perfect idea!
so the next day, he went to ask Charlie for help at having a space for you and him alone. she agreed excitedly, of course, and promised him that absolutely no one was going to interrupt their perfect date. so, with her help, he got the kitchen, dining room, and a balcony all for himself.
when the day itself arrived, he immediately started decorating the dining room and balcony, with just a little magic it was a quick process. the table had a pretty dark red tablecloth, in the middle of it were some light up candles. it was just what you expect to see at a table on a romantic dinner really, kind of the cliché stuff. the balcony, however, had some lights wrapped around the railing, you could find some flower petals from the table leading the way to the entrance of the balcony. he wanted it to be the most unforgivable night of your life! that way, even if you ever (tried to because hes not letting thay happen) leave him, you would remember him whenever this date came around.
he also cooked some fancy dishes, some simpler meals that he knew you liked, and Rosie got him some sweets (against his will) that she knew you would love. everything was made for you to love.
soon enough, the time for the date came around, and you showed up. as you were standing before him, he tilted his head, confused as to why you kept you arms behind your back.
— Darling, are you perhaps hiding something from me?
he asked as you giggled. then, you pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind you back and extended it to him, holding it with both hands as you said "happy valentine's day!" excitedly. he looked at you in shock. you got him flowers. and he didn't. you prepared such a beautiful bouquet for him, and he didn't? he felt disappointed in himself for not getting you something as basic as a bouquet of flowers. how could he not get something like that for you? how could he even think of not getting such a beautiful gift to you? he could have made it the best and biggest bouquet ever and he didn't! how could he-
— Hey, Al? Are you ok?
he came back to his senses when you spoke to him. he looked at your worried expression and just chuckled.
— You just took me by surprise, my dear! I wasn't expecting to get such a beautiful and heartfelt gift from you. I am truly flattered by such a cute gesture!
— You're sure? You seem a little... down.
— Well, I am a bit disappointed in myself. After all, such a beautiful person gave me such beautiful flowers, but I didn't get them flowers! How could a gentlemen forget to bring flowers to his date? For shame.
he replied in a joking tone, making you laugh. your laugh was absolutely worth everything to him, he adored it and he loved seeing you so happy.
— Don't worry silly! you already planned all this, didn't you? that's more than enough for me.
after you were done talking he extended his hand to you, taking the bouquet in his other hand as he lead your way to the table. he wanted that night to be something that you wouldn't forget, but he didn't planned for it to be a night that he also wouldn't forget because of a little surprise. not that he was complaining though.
660 notes · View notes
Note
hiii! i love ur avatar writing and i was wondering if u could write something about neteyam x reader, where they're childhood best friends but then some na'vi guy start to show interest in the reader and neteyam gets all jealous and realize than maybe he's in love with them? idk if this make sense, english is not my first language, sorry :((
All Mine
Tags: Neteyam x Omaticaya!Reader, Aonung x Omaticaya!Reader (Only Slight), Fem!Reader, Childhood Friend Romance, Friends To Lovers, Jealousy, Anguished Declarations Of Love, Neteyam Loses His Cool For Once
Warnings: Neteyam Daydreaming About Punching Aonung LMAO
Neteyam was walking along the beach with his siblings when he spotted you, talking to the Olo'eyktan’s son. It had never crossed his mind before that you, his childhood best friend, would eventually find someone to romantically pursue. Was it wrong to realize he wanted you to himself, and not in the arms of another boy?
OMG IM SO OBSESSED W THIS IDEA!!! If theres one trope I love, its a jealous love interest 🤭 also, trust me when I say ur English is perfect!! Fun fact but English is also my second language and growing up I was ass at speaking it LMFAO so ur not alone 😭☠️
Yellow Hyacinth - Jealousy
* ˚ ✦ 1663 Words • Read below the cut
Tumblr media Tumblr media
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [02/01/23] ❞  
It had been roughly a week since you arrived on the Awa'atlu village's shoreline. When you initially arrived, the Olo'eyktan's son harassed you relentlessly.
There were many things he liked to call you. Freak, weirdo, dimwit, you name it.
There was nothing freak-like about you, per se, but the fact that you were from the forest made you a target to Aonung's bullying. What skills could a woodland girl teach sea people? It was dreadful that you had to hide among them in the first place.
Technically, you had no obligation to go into hiding with the Metkayina clan, but you felt as if the Omaticaya had nothing left for you when your childhood best friend, Neteyam, informed you that he and his family needed to flee.
When Neteyam initially told you that he had to abandon your clan, including you, you wailed into his arms as if he had just perished. You couldn't bear the thought of not being with Neteyam, even if it meant compromising your clan's safety.
The truth is, you overreacted so harshly because you’ve had feelings for Neteyam for years now. You’ve always been unsure if he reciprocated, but there were moments between the both of you where he’d send mixed signals; you didn’t know what shifted or when, but there was just something between you both that felt like you were more than just friends.
And now he wouldn’t be able to stay and see how your relationship would unfurl.
Maybe you were foolish to persuade Jake Sully into bringing you along, but he eventually agreed (albeit reluctantly), since you and his son made each other happy. Neteyam was pleased when you told him you were departing with him.
So there you were, well acquainted with the Metkayina, and accompanied by your dearest friend. Aside from Aonung's pestering, you could put up with it since you knew Neteyam would safeguard you.
However, the more time that you spent with the sea people, the more you began to suspect that it was only you who had detected something between you and Neteyam. You stopped sending hints, even if he overlooked them unintentionally, as it stung too much to persevere.
Aonung eventually stopped attempting to harass you, and you even developed a pleasant friendship with him. Tonowari, his father, had him apologize for his poor behavior; after that, he was actually fairly delightful to converse with.
This was your life now.
...
Neteyam sauntered along the coast, followed by Kiri and Lo'ak. He couldn't take his mind off you; were you safe? Was Aonung bothering you yet again? His father had chided him that he didn't need to be at your side all hours of the day, but he didn't quite understand why his father was amused when he talked about how Neteyam behaved with you. You were his best friend, of course he’s worried!
Regardless, Jake instructed him to keep an eye on his siblings, so he didn't have much of a choice in abandoning them and running to your rescue. Not with Lo'ak prowling behind him in search of trouble.
Neteyam maintained his walk, thinking to himself that he was exceedingly fortunate that you had left the clan for him, and although he wouldn't say it, he was overjoyed.
What he wasn't so thrilled with was how he'd discovered you'd grown closer to that jackass Aonung. You could talk to anybody you pleased, and he knew you were far too pure-hearted to entirely dismiss the Olo'eyktan's son, but why did he feel so bitter whenever he saw you together?
Speak of the devil.
Kiri pointed you out, but when she saw who you were with, she shuddered. “Look, it’s Y/N! And... Aonung.” She deadpanned.
Neteyam was paying little heed to what his sister was saying. No, he was paying close attention to how you were giggling at whatever Aonung said.
What the fuck?
Lo’ak nudged his shoulder. “Bro?”
Lo'ak waved his hand in front of Neteyam's face, which he instantly swept aside. What exactly did Aonung say to make you laugh that hard? You only laugh when you're with him!
Neteyam was practically seething, his fists clenched into balls, as Kiri and Lo'ak snickered to each other out of his earshot. If Kiri didn't know any better, she'd suppose Neteyam was thinking about the finest ways to strangle a (what might as well be) merman.
And truly, he was.
Lo’ak held his fist to his mouth to stifle his laughs. “Dude, are you jealous?”
Kiri placed a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder, and looked away with a smile plastered to her face. “He totally is.”
Neteyam’s rage was now being directed towards his siblings. “What? No I’m not! Why would I be jealous?”
Lo’ak was still chortling when he pointed behind Neteyam, motioning that he should probably look. He turned around indignantly, and saw that Aonung had a hand on your arm. He was close. Too close for his liking.
And that look. Anyone could see that Aonung was flirting with you. He was maintaining direct eye contact with you, narrowing his gaze. He appeared to be listening carefully to what you were saying, but his smirk paired with his eyes passing over your lips indicated otherwise.
Neteyam just wanted to pummel his stupid, blue face in.
Kiri and Lo'ak burst out laughing as they witnessed Neteyam storm over to where the two of you were. He aggressively inserted his own hand where Aonung's own had originally been, shoving your body into his own by the shoulder. The unexpected intrusion caught you off guard.
“Oh! Neteyam!”
You beamed at his arrival right away, but Aonung frowned. Before you could enquire what Neteyam was doing, he stared daggers into Aonung's head, and hauled you away from him by your bicep. Aonung remained there stunned, staring at your back as you walked away.
“What the hell?”
Kiri and Lo'ak tripped over themselves on their way over to Aonung, howling with laughter, and Lo'ak smacked his shoulder in amusement.
“Sorry cuz, you never stood a chance!”
Aonung’s cheeks darkened deeply. He was thoroughly mortified; he had no idea you were and Neteyam were like that! (You’re not.)
...
Neteyam began to lose confidence throughout the walk once he had pulled you much further away. While you shouted at him to let you go, he inwardly cursed at himself, wondering why he had just done that.
Does he like you?
Your vehement protests about how Neteyam was causing you pain eventually ceased falling on deaf ears. His rage vanished when he realized he'd been treating you like a ragdoll for the entire walk, and he immediately felt horrible. He let go of your arm and buried his face in his hands, ashamed that he had done such a thing to you in the first place.
You rubbed your sore arm, and nudged his shoulder gently. “What’s wrong?”
He looked way too upset, and you rarely saw him like this, if ever.
“Why was Aonung looking at you like that?”
That struck you with irritation. “Are you serious? That’s what this is about?”
His eyes darkened at your words. How could it not be?
You started to raise your voice. “You cannot be for real. You’re just my friend, why are you being so overprotective? If Aonung likes me, that’s my business! Not yours!”
Neteyam snatched your wrist again, evidently upset by what you just uttered. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore. “The only person that can look at you like that is me!”
You went quiet for a time, then realization dawned on your features. “Hold up... do you like me?”
Suddenly, Neteyam’s gaze softened, and he could no longer be furious with you. “How could I not?”
He released your wrist, unsure of what to say next. When he noticed your prolonged silence, Neteyam whirled around, prepared to walk back to his home and cry his frustrations out. He was fighting back tears already; what was the point of telling you this anyway?
You gripped his shoulder and forced him to swivel around and face you. Neteyam could not cover his face, and he felt humiliated because he didn't know why he was acting in this manner. Why was he weeping over a silly look?
He was caught by surprise when you cupped his face in your hands, and wiped the stray tears away. Your irritation had completely dissipated. “You have nothing to be worried about.”
He sniffled. “Why?”
“Because I’ve liked you since forever, but I didn’t think you liked me back. There were so many mixed signals, and you never picked up on my hints, either!”
Neteyam was taken aback. He was at a loss for words.
You rolled your eyes. “Just kiss me, you big idiot.”
Your hand that was on his shoulder was now suddenly imprisoned in his grip, and he jerked you towards his body, lips crashing into yours. He pressed against you with ardor, as if you'd vanish if he didn't embrace you like you were the last Na'vi on Pandora.
Your nimble fingers found purchase in his braids. His hands slithered around your waist, drawing you flush against him, effectively deepening the kiss. He needed you so near that he could only sense your lips against his. When you would try and pull away, his desperate kisses would follow.
You feared Neteyam had forgotten you needed to breathe, because you had to roughly pull his head back by his braids to eventually get him to halt his feverish actions. The minimal bit of pigment on your lips had now smeared, a mark left by Neteyam that claimed you as his. Who the hell taught him to kiss like that?
As you both merely stared at each other, stunned, Neteyam spoke through labored breaths. “All mine?”
“I’m all yours.”
Bonus!
Lo'ak sipped his fruity iced drink, having witnessed the entire exchange from a distance. He patted Aonung's back.
“You wish that was you, huh?”
Aonung punched him.
5K notes · View notes
willaferrreyra · 7 months
Text
first date movies — neil lewis x reader
Tumblr media
word count: 2.9k (oops this was….way longer than i thought)
contains: SMUT (18+ ONLY) —> fingering, oral (m receiving), public indecency (getting it on in a movie theater because…it’s neil), fluff, happy ending!
you have a crush on your coworker and you really wish you didn’t.
note: this has not been proofread so place excuse any typos! i hope you enjoy especially since this is my first smut fic on this account which is insane. also all of the movies referenced are some of my favorites so…..i’d absolutely recommend them if you haven’t seen them already! neil is my silly little movie buff husband and i’d absolutely LOVE to write for him again so please leave some feedback if you’d like more!
cillian taglist: @mortylover
As you stood on a step stool, shelving new video arrivals, you could hear Ingrid Bergman's lovely Swedish accent behind you.
Notorious. You'd seen it a million times but you'd never gotten sick of it. It was your favorite Hitchcock and often the movie you'd throw on if you were in need of comfort. Although it was your turn to pick what everyone watched at the video store today, you weren't sitting with everyone else on the big worn out sofa. You preferred to shelve and enjoy the sound of the movies in the background (maybe walking over when your favorite scene was on). After all, someone needed to help the customers even if you didn't have many.
You had an annoying habit of reciting movie lines that you loved, as did Neil, the owner of the store and one of your closest friends.
"This is a very strange love affair," you said with Ingrid as you placed Valley of the Dolls in its right place.
"Why?" Neil said right along with Cary Grant, glancing over at you.
"Maybe the fact that you don't love me," you shot him a dramatic look, trying to do your best Ingrid Bergman impression.
"Your Bergman should be better for someone who's seen this movie more times than she can count," he said.
You rolled your eyes.
"She's got a unique accent! Plus it's very transatlantic. That's hard."
"She can do the Fargo accent," your other coworker Jonathan pointed out, not bothering to look up from the TV.
"Oh, you betcha," you grinned, nailing the unmistakable Minnesotan "o" sound.
"That's not hard!" Neil protested.
"It's not easy!"
The doors jingled as your best friend walked through the door, cutting the discussion about accents short. Before you could even say anything she already had a request.
"First date movie. Help."
You thought for a minute.
"Well what's the person like?"
"I don't know! I haven't met him yet. This is a blind setup by a coworker thing."
"Do you....think you'll be paying attention to the movie?"
She made a face.
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"Not necessarily! You could be....talking."
After many failed dates with guys who were into film, you understood the complexities of picking the first date movie. It said a lot about a person — what they're into, how they feel, who they aspire to be. But at the end of the day, it needs to be something that can transition to being background noise for a good make out session while still being enjoyable. Very few movies check all of those boxes.
"Just don't give me anything too complicated, okay?" she sighed. "No Lynch. No Cronenberg."
You fake frowned. "I was just gonna rent Crash and Lost Highway to you as a double feature."
She shuddered as she remembered the horror that was watching both of those films. You could stomach things like that but she absolutely couldn't.
"Okay, sit tight. I have a thought," you said as you ran over to the romances.
Your friend wandered over to the TV while you hunted for her perfect first date movie.
"Hey guys," she said monotonously.
"Hey," they replied equally unenthused.
She stood and watched the movie for a minute before you came back holding Moonstruck.
"Cher. Nic Cage. Romantic. Easy to follow. It checks every box!"
"That's your idea of a first date movie?" Neil scoffed.
"What's yours? The Seventh Seal?" you rolled your eyes.
"Yeah, that's why Denise broke up with him," Jonathan replied.
"What? You didn't tell me that!"
"Well it kind of just happened," he said. "And to be honest I'm not so broken up about it."
After knowing Neil a while, you knew that he wasn't one for consistent steady girlfriends. Denise lasted longer than most, but in the end he always seemed to get bored. Sure, he got around to an extent, but it was hard for you to picture Neil Lewis truly settling down. Unless, of course, you pictured him with you — but you tried not to do that. The thought popped into your brain every once in a while but you pushed it out as soon as it arrived. You knew you'd only end up getting hurt.
"Okay, well that's good because I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies tonight. I mean, I'm all for a good ol' post breakup pity party but I'd much rather go see The Thing on the big screen tonight."
You and Neil did your part to keep your local independent theater in business more than anyone else in town. It was a regular thing for the two of you to go see at least two movies a week, sometimes more. Sometimes Jonathan and Lucien would tag along and sometimes it was just the two of you — every time you secretly hoped that it would be just the two of you.
"Now that's a good first date movie," Jonathan said.
"The Thing for a first date?" you scrunched your nose into a face of disapproval. "You guys have no taste."
"Well good thing we're not going on a first date then," Neil said. "But yeah, I'll go with you, I'm not doing anything else. Wanna grab dinner and go straight there?"
Those words shouldn't have been such a dagger to you but they were. No shit, this wasn't a first date. He didn't need to remind you.
"Yeah, that's fine," you said, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. "I just have a few more things to finish up here and then we can head out."
You helped your friend rent her movie and finished up your shelving duties with a little less pep in your step than usual as Neil's words played over and over again in your mind like a broken record.
Good thing we're not going on a first date then. Fuck him. It's not like he was trying to hurt you, after all he didn't know that you maybe kinda sorta liked him. But those words.....you just couldn't take your mind off of them as you mentally prepared yourself for your very clearly stated non-date.
A little diner by the local theater had been your spot with Neil for as long as you'd been coworkers. It had become a tradition of yours to sneak in mini bottles of booze to pour into the milkshakes, either on celebratory or wallowing in your sorrows occasions. Neil's breakup felt like a good excuse to give your shared vanilla shake deserved an extra kick, even if you were the one who really needed it.
"Is anyone looking?"
He shook his head as you poured the vodka into the glass, stirring the concoction with the straw. You didn't wait for Neil before placing your lips to the straw and downing a quarter of it all at once.
"Hey, take it easy. I thought I was the one who needed the alcohol tonight," he chuckled.
"You said it yourself, you're not upset about Denise," you said, the irritation in your voice shining through.
"Are you upset about something, then? I'm sorry I didn't really help you shelve today, I just- you know, you like to do that stuff by yourself sometimes. And you picked such a good movie I couldn't tear myself away from the screen."
It would've been easier if you had really been upset about that. You wished that you were upset about that And now half the shake was gone, everything you wanted to say was rushing to your head, and you didn't even think about what you were doing when you blurted out:
"Why can't this be a first date?"
His eyes widened as he let out a small chuckle, assuming you were kidding.
"What?"
"You heard me. Why can't this be a first date?"
As he stared back at you, you felt like you had just fucked everything up. This amazing friendship was just ruined now because you drank your boozy milkshake too fast.
"Do....do you want it to be?" he asked.
"Fuck!" you exclaimed before burying your head in your hands. "Forget I said anything. I-I drank that too fast."
"No, I....we can call this a date if you want. In fact I'd really like that."
He wasn't trying to humor you and he wasn't trying to make the situation better by saying something that he didn't mean — he was dead serious.
"Neil, don't say that if you don't mean it," you sighed. "I'm just....upset today. Don't listen to me."
He studied your face for a minute before speaking again.
"Do you remember when I interviewed you for your job?"
"Now what does that have to do with anything?"
You did, in fact, remember your Gumshoe interview very well. You had asked him if he'd ever considered doing a film noir themed commercial for the store and you'd never seen someone so excited about an idea before — you always assumed that was why you had gotten the job.
"I knew you before that, you know," he said. "I remembered you from when you used to be a customer. There was actually this one time when you had an overdue fee and I paid it for you and told the guys that I had lost the tape."
This made you smile a bit.
"Point being?"
He took a deep breath before he continued on.
"Normally when we do the interview process, we ask the same shit, you know? What's your favorite movie? Who's your favorite director? And I asked you that stuff even though I thought I already knew the answers, I remembered what you used to rent. I thought I knew you so well and then you just went totally fucking wildcard on me — and I loved it. Ever since then you've kept on surprising me and I....well, I really like that. I guess what I'm trying to say is I really like you. And I think I always have."
You stared at him wide-eyed. You had not expected your little drunken tantrum to get you a confession of feelings.
"Neil....do you know why I rented from Gumshoe all the time? I mean, I'm all for supporting the little guys, but I really went in to see you. And then I got this job and I got to know you and you weren't just the cute guy at the video store anymore, you were like....my cute friend/boss technically but I won't get into that. But I got to know you and I watched you go through all of these relationships because you get bored eventually and....I just think you might get bored with me. I'm no Katharine Ross in Butch and Sundance."
He shook his head as a smile crept across his lips.
"No, you're even more exciting than that. You're like...Barbarella or something. Queen of the galaxy."
"Barbarella's whole thing was sex appeal," you point out. "That's the whole movie."
"Sex appeal, sure. But she's also kind and interesting and witty. You've got all of that."
You took all of that as a compliment but you found yourself blushing at his mention of sex appeal.
When you arrived to the movie theater after finishing your meal, it seemed that you two were the only ones dying to see a John Carpenter flick on a Tuesday evening. You had your pick of seats in the empty theater.
Your non-date turned date couldn't have been going better, honestly, it made you think that you should turn to drinking more often. It fixed this problem miraculously well.
As you settled into your seats and the lights dimmed, it was clear that both of you wanted to make a move but didn't know how to do it. After all, you couldn't just go straight for unzipping his fly. Or could you? Tonight was all about confidence and he clearly liked it when you kept him on his toes. You decided to start slow, resting a hand on his thigh, letting your hand wander from there.
He looked over at you as you made contact with the bulge in his jeans. It was hard to read his expression in the dark, but you could feel that he didn't want you to stop.
"Are we really gonna do this here?" he whispered.
"We've both seen this a thousand times, I think it'll be okay if we get a little distracted," you whisper back. "U-unless you don't want—"
He cut you off with a kiss that was a long time coming. You were surprised by the sheer force of it as your tongues collided. His hand reached up to cup the side of your face as you melted into the kiss, illuminated by the glow of the silver screen. He made you feel dizzy, but in a good way.
Now, you had never been intimate in a movie theater before, but it was even more exhilarating than you could’ve imagined. As you slowly unzipped his fly, taking his length out of his jeans, you noticed that Neil wasn’t watching the movie at all. His eyes were completely focused on you.
“You’re really taking your time, aren’t you?” he whispered. He was rock hard already and you could tell that he was getting incredibly impatient. You held the base of him while you teased his tip with your tongue. Whatever composure he thought he had went out the window as he his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Based on his breathing patterns you thought he was going to come right then.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Just….just like that.”
You could feel him trembling as your tongue continued to work its swirly magic. Eventually you began to take him in your mouth completely, greeting him with the warm sensation of the back of your throat. He groaned out your name in a raspy whisper as you bobbed your head on his length. Before you knew it, you could feel a hand on your head guiding it along — his touch felt so intimate and loving, you couldn’t get enough.
“I-I’m close….I’m— fuck….I’m gonna—“
Before he could finish what he was going to say, you could feel his come coat the back of your throat. It was a warm, welcome feeling and you couldn’t wait to feel it again.
“Jesus christ,” he sat there catching his breath before turning to you. “That was….wow. You’re just…..I-Incredible.”
You smiled at the praise. It wasn’t even day that you were complimented on your blowjob skills.
Your head made its way to his shoulder as you sat side by side watching the movie. His hand began on your though but slowly because to creep it’s way up between your legs.
“Returning the favor?” you whispered, smiling softly as you glanced in his direction.
He nodded, speaking in a sultry whisper that nearly made your legs shake. “You know, you just made me feel so good….it would be a crime not to reciprocate it, don’t you think?”
You continued to rest your head on his shoulder as he slipped two fingers inside of you. You couldn’t help but notice how easily they went in — you had been soaked for hours.
“All this for me?” he chuckled. “How long have you been like this?”
“All night,” you said in between heavy breaths. “I-I’m always like this around you, Neil.”
“No way, are you really?”
His switch up from the sultry whisper to his excited tone made you giggle.
“I have….a tendency to daydream about you when I’m around you,” you explained.
His fingers found just the right spot as he continued to question you. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to talk.
“Daydream about what specifically?”
A small whimper escaped your mouth as his fingers curled inside of you. You couldn’t even recall what you used to daydream about until it hit you.
“This…..this exact moment. I-I’ve….fuck….Ive daydreamed about this a m-million times.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked as he started to pump his fingers faster. “And how does it end?”
“I- Neil- I’m gonna—“
“How does it end, sweet girl? Tell me.”
You could barely even answer in between heavy breaths but you managed to speak up, your words intertwined with your moans.
“Y-you make….you make me come, N-Neil! I’m….right now, I’m—“
“Show me. Come for me. Show me how the daydream ends.”
And you did, trying your best to keep quiet as you came undone. You buried your face into his shoulder as you whimpered and throbbed against his fingers.
“Good girl,” he exhaled. “That’s a good girl.”
The next day at work, you and Neil debated what you should tell the others. To announce the relationship or keep it a secret was a heavily debated topic, but you eventually settled on keeping it to yourselves for a while before revealing it. You thought it would be nice to have something that was just yours for a while. Plus, hiding a relationship can be incredibly sexy.
As you walked into Gumshoe, you flashed a quick smile at Neil who was in his usual spot behind the counter before taking your place at the shelf.
“Hey, Jonathan,” you called over to the couch, getting his attention. “I was totally wrong. Upon my rewatch, I think that The Thing would be a great first date movie.”
“See, I told you! I told you and you never fucking listen to me,” he said. “What made you change your mind?”
You glanced over at Neil one more time. It was clear that he was thinking about last night just as much as you were.
“I don’t know…” you shrugged. “Maybe it’s Kurt Russell.”
1K notes · View notes
iinotinlxve · 8 days
Text
↪✩would they hold your hand?
Tumblr media
⤷ characters: yuuji, megumi, toge, nanami
⤷ summary: How they respond and feel about hand-holding!!
⤷ a/n: jjk has officially ruined me. thanks gege
wc: 622
Tumblr media
↣ yuuji itadori ☆
Yes. When he can't kiss you, he's always holding your hand. In the halls on your way to class, standing and talking to Megumi, casually doing anything and his hands are interlocked with yours. They're always warm, maybe even clammy-- you're always surprised when they're cold after he's been outside.
His favorite time to hold your hand is during walks. Both of you in casual clothing, looking at all the shops lining the street. The sidewalks aren't particularly busy, and the weather's perfect.
Yuuji is a really fast walker. He's always anxious about one thing or another, and slightly more active than the average person. But recently, he's tried to slow down a little more to enjoy the moment with you. And because you tell him to...
↣ megumi fushiguro ☆
He doesn't show it, but he secretly likes holding your hand. However, he rarely holds your hand in front of other people. And when he does, he doesn't bring attention to it. Usually it's you who grabs his hand, and he doesn't let go. He only regrets it later, when he gets teased by all his friends.
However, he loves holding your hand while making out with you. He'll interlock his fingers with yours as he kisses you, enjoying how you squeezed onto his hand.
Sometimes he'll hold your hand out of anger, if you can't walk straight. Or if you started to run off somewhere and couldn't stay on track. Overall, he's not physically affectionate, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it, especially if it's with you.
↣ toge inumaki ☆
Since he can't communicate his ideas in verbal language, he relies on other methods to express his affection. So yes, he enjoys holding your hand. Just casually, almost with a slight bit of intrigue and curiosity. Like he was fascinated by the fact you wanted to hold his hand.
He's quietly affectionate, leaning his head on your shoulder. Most exchanges between you were wordless, because he finally came to terms with the fact that you were okay with his silence. At first, he thought he had to try harder. To say something to you. But he soon found out that you didn't care all that much. As long as you were with him, that was all the communication you needed.
↣ kento nanami ☆
I don't see him as a hand-holding guy, but rather the type of person to put his hand on your thigh while you're sitting down at a restaurant.
Discreetly, under the table, almost like an absent-minded habit. He enjoys how your skin feels under his touch, finding a bit of comfort in just your presence alone. Plus, his hands are so much bigger than yours- in public, your normally just latch onto his arm and walk that way.
He'd also rest his hand on the small of your back, especially when you're wearing some sort of dress. Small, discreet hand placement while you're talking to someone, gently pulling you close to him. Sometimes he doesn't realize he's doing it. When you call him out, he just apologizes with a small smile. Although, you figure he's not really sorry...
↣ satoru gojo ☆
He's holding your hand all. the. time. Dragging you along, yanking you by your wrist towards him when he mentions you in a conversation. It's almost like he's bragging. He likes clinging onto you or staying close to you while focusing on something else. He turns off his Infinity, just for you.
He also really likes hugs, squeezing you for comfort. He likes spooning you in bed, and opening his arms with a small pout as he waits for you to hug him. And if you don't comply, he'll whine and complain until you do.
He's definitely outwardly affectionate, both in front of other people and in private.
493 notes · View notes
doobea · 8 months
Text
I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.
contents: fem!reader, explicit content, they do basically everything BUT seggs (oral male and female receiving, sexting, fingering), extreme word vomit and narration in the beginning, characters are all in their mid/late-20s, romcom, honestly they're figuring themselves out, mdni word count: 4K a/n: honestly, idk why the word count keeps increasing everytime but i tried to make this as fluffy and emotional as possible?? please have respectful eyes and thoughts when reading :3c - again if u wanna be added to the taglist just comment below hehe
Tumblr media
三 : Baby, my room is the G spot -> prev. -> next.
You've spent the past few weeks mulling over your "passion project"; spending the majority of your days writing till late as three in the morning, back slouched and brain caffeinated, convincing yourself that each paragraph written was perfect. But recently you've found yourself hating every word, every sentence, and every character development point that you've produced. If it wasn't for the fact that you've poured over 30,000 words into the novel you would've scrapped everything and started over. Something felt off.
You groan, kicking your legs underneath your office desk and slumping over in your chair. The words on the screen didn't even look like words anymore. You can't count how many times you've rewritten the same paragraph. Writer's block is killing you and you blame it on your husband.
It's been exactly three days since the dressing room incident and, unlike grown adults, you both decided it was best to sweep it under the rug. There was a small window of opportunity to speak about it but it didn't help that minutes later the store manager put two and two together and implemented a lifetime ban against you and Rin. Needless to say, the drive home was dead silent. But at least you received the clothes for free!
Of course, a million questions ran through your head, trying to piece together what even caused Rin to do that. The most far you've gotten with him was limited to heavy make-out sessions, and even those are a rare occurrence. Your not-so-obvious plan of trying to seduce him worked (it was Shidou's idea), so why do you feel like you're back to square one?
The messaging app on your laptop hops up and down before its jarring ringtone blasts through the speakers. You click 'accept' when you see the names of your familiar penpals pop in the middle of the screen and enter the call seeing eerie smiles coming from everyone.
"So," Bachira sings, eyes gleaming with intensity, "how did it go?"
So much for “hello”.
A soft blush creeps its way to your cheeks and it doesn't go unnoticed by your friends. A chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs' follow suit and you feel even more naked than you were days ago.
"It went well, like super well." You meekly recall the explicit events that occurred in the dressing room, stumbling over the details as you remember your husband's careful movements against your skin and lower regions.
The four men sit up straight, whispering to each other with wide eyes 'See? I told you so!' and Shidou proudly puffs out his chest at his genius plotting.
"But," And this is where everyone stops in their tracks and tenses, "we still slept in separate beds afterwards."
Betrayal and disgust are written on their faces.
Hell breaks loose as the men raise their voices at the same time, a series of fake cries and spurs of curse words that you haven't heard before leak from the device. You hastily connect your Bluetooth headphones to your laptop to hopefully drown out the sounds since Rin is still very much at home - just in the other room.
"Guys," Your voice strains, "everything will be okay." The reassurance is more for yourself than for anyone else on the call.
"I just wanna know what your husband is thinking." Chigiri presses his lips together in a tight line.
"He's bold enough to finger fuck you in a dressing room but doesn't have the balls to just sleep in the same bedroom?" Shidou scoffs.
Hiori raises a hand to interject while wearing an uneasy expression, "You ever think there's something that happened in his past that's causing him to avoid certain amounts of intimacy?"
You draw in a deep breath before shaking your head, "Honestly, I'm not sure if there's much on his past and we've always danced around the topic." More like Rin would always try and excuse himself from the conversation during the few times that it did happen. You've assumed the number of partners is probably more than the average person, given the fact that he's a popular athlete and gives off 'male lead' energy in a drama.
"Here's a wild thought to consider!" Bachira shares his screen, and the contents of a poorly drawn-out graphic bearing the colorful words 'TOP THINGS TO DO TO SEDUCE A VIRGIN' pops up. There is a step-by-step guide with weirdly in-depth descriptions for each point. The points labeled 'force them to share a bed' and 'lingerie' were scribbled out while being accompanied by a sad face.
"What am I looking at exactly?" You blank at the screen, ignoring the suppressed giggling fits coming from Shidou and Chigiri in the background.
Hiori clears his throat, "We were all thinking that maybe your husband is also a virgin." The jarring statement causes you to choke on your saliva but he continues on, "It's clear that he cares about you from what you've told us, and maybe the dressing room incident caused him to have some sort of confidence in his performance? We believe he's just shy and is waiting for you to initiate the process."
Chigiri nods in agreement, "And given that he's avoidant talking about his past relationships, it could mean he just doesn't have any partners and assumes that you probably had plenty."
"But why would he even assume that?"
"Because," Shidou launches himself close to the camera, "you're literally a smut master. You don't think he's looked up your shit even once?"
You open your mouth, trying to fish the right words to respond, and nothing comes out. You find your legs bouncing rapidly against the hardwood floor and gnaw at the bit of flesh in your mouth, a sudden surge of a mix of anxiety and excitement bursting through your veins. "This—I don't think makes sense." Except, you think, it does. It 100% does make sense and you want to hit yourself on the head for not catching it earlier.
Bachira lets out a long whimsical sigh and zooms in to the top of the graphic, enhancing the words 'SEND HIM NUDES, "You can start with this and," he scrolls down to the next bullet point, "follow up with my favorite foreplay: sexting!"
Subconsciously, you find yourself reaching for the phone, staring hard at the background photo of you and Rin on one of your earlier date nights. The photo had poor lighting quality due to the only source being his small apartment TV at the time. The two of you were seated against the couch cushions on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest and his arm awkwardly wrapped around your shoulder. It was your first couple's photo together after a long movie marathon. A shitty but precious photo nonetheless. You find yourself thinking, maybe the third time is the charm?
Rin shuts his laptop after another hour-long session with Anri, feeling everything but relaxed. He didn't go into much detail on what happened, fearing both judgment from his therapist and recognition of the lack of communication skills - so he lies. He didn't care if Anri was able to sense it, Rin knows he's a bad liar, but he also knows that he probably shouldn't be venting with a distracted mind.
He tosses his headphones to his side and lays down on the bed, limbs sprawling out in all directions to try and release some of the tension in his body. Ever since what occurred three days ago, he's been struggling to act like his usual self. His kicks have been sloppy, rushed, and just filled god awful accuracy. The meals that he tried to cook himself right afterward always end up tasting burnt for being on the stove a minute too long. And you? Rin remembers you asking if you had wanted to talk about it shortly after but he was quick to decline. A bit too quickly. He knows he should've started the conversation but restless thoughts of insecurity clouded his judgment.
What if you secretly hated it? What if you faked your orgasm? Will anything that he'll do live up to your prior experiences?
He shudders at the thoughts before snapping back up from the mattress. Rin needs to relieve this stress build-up by doing the only thing he knows best and starts packing his gym bag for the training grounds.
When he pokes his head out, he vaguely overhears muffled voices along with your fingers rapidly typing away at your keyboard, and exhales. You're still busy in your weekly meeting and that means he can have plenty of alone time if he doesn't bump into his teammates during after-hours. Rin quickly fills up his water bottle, throwing in a couple of ice cubes, then dips.
Luck is finally on his side as Rin steps onto the open turf field with no one in sight. He lets out a deep sigh, throws down his bag, and dives deep into his routine work. His mind goes numb an hour in after scoring against the dummy goalie for the nth time, his accuracy returning at a steady pace, and finally decides to take a quick water break. Just as he finishes relacing his cleats, a familiar buzzing sound catches his ears, glancing down to see your text.
my love "are you alone right now?"
He pauses and stares. For some reason, he feels like this is a test and hesitates an answer. Are you in a bad mood? Are you asking to have a long-winded phone call over the incident? Rin's shaky fingers hover over the phone's keyboard and, before he has the chance to say anything, you send over the next message.
The first thing he sees is 'IMAGE RECIEVED' and the second thing he sees is a pair of breasts. Your breasts. It's a faceless photo but he recognizes the white lacey outfit from the boutique. You had one of your arms pressed under your breasts to elevate them for extra volume and your thighs were spread open just enough for your folds to slip through. Rising temperatures and aches soon force their way down to his stomach and growing length.
Even though Rin knew he was alone, he snaps his neck side to side just to make sure before replying.
Rin "looks nice"
He immediately regrets it. It's not like he plays nonchalance very well, either way. Rin is fast to recall back to the erotic novels he's read and pulls together a message that is more fitting and elegant in his eyes.
Rin "do you want me to come back?"
You're quick to respond back and he grimaces.
my love "no."
But you continue to his surprise.
my love "but if you're alone do you mind touching yourself?"
Rin inhales a sharp breath and palms his evident aching length through his shorts, it's burning to the touch. He's confident that there aren't any cameras that are still on, there was no point if everyone else went home for the day, right? Rin finds a comfortable corner in the arena and presses his back flush against the cold wall, pulling out the camera app on his phone. He adjusts the position so that his lower abs are in frame and tug down his waistband enough for his head to poke out, already wet and raging red from precum, and snaps the picture over.
my love "oh wow wait you're at practice rn?" Rin "don't worry too much, im the only one here" "do you want to see more?"
There's a moment in pause and Rin thinks maybe he's overstepped his place as he watches the text bubbles reappear and disappear soon after the other. But soon you return with his message with more than what he can bite.
my love "dont finish just yet! come back when you're done with training and let's have a talk." ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE
And it's a photo of your ass.
On instinct, his fingers brush over his sensitive head and he bites down his lips to contain a threatening moan from escaping. As much as Rin would love to pleasure himself shamefully on work grounds, curiosity, and some sense of morals, crawl back to his senses.
Rin "be back in 15"
With a quick toss of his water bottle and ruffling for his car keys, RIn has never driven home at lightning speed till now.
You find yourself pacing back and forth in your bedroom, heart hammering against your chest as you fiddle with the lace hanging from your bodysuit as a failed attempt to calm your nerves. A part of you wants to thank your friends for their suggestions and another part of you wants to hide underneath covers because you still can't process that this might be finally happening.
Sounds of keys jingling by the front door halts your movements and you could hear your husband frantically tossing his shoes and bag on the floor - an uncharacteristic trait for someone neat like Rin. Before you get the chance of covering up in any way, the athlete rushes into your room, seemingly a bit out of breath. His usual teal eyes now have a familiar dark overcast over them, similar to how he looked in the dressing room days ago.
You press your thighs together, shyly averting your gaze from the male, and cough, "I think we both need to confess something so I'll go first. I want us to explore more intimately but I want you to know that you're going to be my first for essentially everything." You make an anguished noise, flush, and look away. Rin doesn’t press it, but the silence falls over, and it's a heavy one.
You hear him let out a small, but audible, gasp of sorts. Then some shuffling. Then a soft plop. You look up and Rin is sitting on your bed, patting the spot next to him and shooting you a gentle smile. Pressure that you didn't even realize you had is released from your body as you sit down, immediately reaching out to interlace your fingers with his. You sink your head against his broad shoulder.
"You're my first for everything too," Rin admits followed by a hushed sigh, his cheeks tinted red, and it looks like he's going to either laugh or cry, you can't tell but, from the moonlight shining through the windows, you can at least see that he isn't terrified. "So let's take care of each other, okay?" And gives your hand a tight squeeze.
Rin reaches over and tugs you to straddle in his lap. It's not awkward, almost easy, and you follow the eager voices chanting in your head as you lean back between your husband's firm thighs. Arms loop around his neck and your eyes lock, meeting his dark and seemingly naive ones. There is enough natural light flowing in that you can count each individual eyelash, notice the small movements in his pupils as he searches for permission, how his lips tweak from both nervousness and hunger, and that his skin is essentially flawless.
You take the initiative and the kisses that you leave on his collarbones are enthusiastic, needy, and messy - more displaced saliva than anything else. But neither of you cares enough. Rin lets out the slightest of moans and his hands find their way to your thighs, thumbs pressing down hard that leaves you wondering if there's a chance for bruises tomorrow.
His grip on you tightens when your lips hover over his flushed ears. You decide to play with this discovery and drag your teeth over his right ear lobe, almost moaning in response to the noise that escaped from Rin's mouth.
"I didn't realize that you have sensitive ears." You continue to playfully nibble his lobes, managing another groan from the male.
"Don't push it." Rin breathes out before pressing one of his thumbs against your covered folds, humming in contentment when he realizes that it's completely soaked. As he circles around your heat, he hears his name slipping through your plumped lips, a distinctive whine that makes his cock twitch. "Let me try something real quick."
He sets you aside and gets up, desperately tossing his sweat-covered t-shirt and unbearable sweats from his warming skin. All clothes from his body are stripped and forgotten on the bedroom floor as he stands fully exposed and watches your flustered figure with nothing but instincts taking over.
Rin lays fully down on the mattress and motions you to climb on top, ass facing him. If your face wasn't red before, it sure is red now after putting the indications together. "Come here, let me make you feel good." His voice is coated with needy intoxication and you obediently follow his commands.
You carefully hover your lower half over his face and lay face to face with his twitching head, mind racing as you try and figure out how exactly are you going to fit him in your mouth. It should be a crime to be this dangerously attractive and pair it with something so big. Before you get the chance to grasp his length, your body jolts and a shriek escapes your lips. Looking over your shoulder, you see Rin spreading your warmth apart with a smirk etched onto his face.
"Relax," is all he says, pulling down your thighs, and your mesh-covered mound meets with his impatient tongue flicking and drinking your soiled leakage.
You let your mind blissfully go blank and struggle to not grind your hips against his nose. Your ragged breathing hangs over his leaking tip and it twitches angrily in response. Finding your strength, you curl your hand around his throbbing erection, giving it a few experimental strokes, immediately taken aback by how firm a penis can be.
"A bit looser, love." Rin hisses out between your legs, his mouth now covered in a mixture of your fluids and his drool. He's fighting a war in his head, debating whether to stop to look at your cute attempt to swallow him whole or continue to ravage your dripping folds. The second option sounds infinitely more appealing, he thinks.
You mumble out a drunken apology and adjust your grip. After a few strokes and vibrations of him groaning against your lower half, you finally find the courage to consume his impressive size. Your lips wrap itself around his head and Rin is doing everything that he can to not shove the entirety of his cock down your hot, welcoming tunnel. The combination of your crazed moans and juices are like honey in his throat and it drives him insane. The swirling from your tongue around his tip and your bobbing head movements send his hands to grasp each side of your ass, he whines and kneads against the soft fat.
"Fuck," Rin knows he shouldn't buck his hips into you, especially since you look like you're still struggling with his length, but it feels too good for it to go unnoticed. "Don't stop, do that again."
You let out a hum against his head in response, sending static shock to his legs, and repeat the process again. Rin chooses not to hold back his moans, not when you're both figuring out each other's bodies for the first time, and he allows the heavy fog in his vision to swallow him whole. His fingers dig deep into the flesh of your ass and grinds your hips back and forth on his mouth, making sure that your hood rubs against the tip of his nose for added pleasure. A minute passes and Rin feels the pressure building faster than he can even warn you.
"Baby, I—" He gasps out, the knot quickly comes undone in his stomach and unintentionally releases in multiple spurts into your mouth. Rin feels you choke in response, and knows that the load is way more than what he usually produces. His head rolls deep into the pillow and cries out a moan when you attempt to swallow with his overly sensitive cock still between your lips.
You pop his wet length from your now sore jaw and laugh weakly, "So that's what semen tastes like."
Rin grunts and proceeds to flip your body onto the bed, earning a loud yelp from you, "Still need to finish you off." He slips between your legs, resting his mouth on top of your wet mound, and sucks off the remaining slick through the mesh fabric. You almost clamp your thighs together from the sensitivity but his arms stop your actions.
Your hands grab at the bedsheets, knuckles turning white from the obvious burning sensation slowly building up in your stomach as his mouth makes its way over to focus solely on your itching nub. You feel him tugging the fabric to the side and you immediately release a loud mew, curling your back against the mattress when his fingers feel their way inside your mushy entrance and pumping in all the right angles from before.
Encouraged by your response, he speeds up his pace and feels your tightness form as you writhe under his touch. Rin soon notices that your body has gotten too tense, knowing the struggle that you've caught yourself in as tears threaten to escape from your eyes. He pauses his fingers inside and coos, "I want you to look at me as you cum. Can you cum for me?"
You say nothing but your insides couldn't help but to pulse against his fingers after hearing his daring words. He takes that as approval and resumes his speed, mouth latching back to its original position but this time his half-lidded eyes don't falter from yours. Hands fly to tear skin at the broad shoulders beneath as you breathe out his name in ecstasy. Soon you're scrambling against him, lifting your hips from the wet mattress over his fingertips and face, wanting more, and Rin realizes that you're stumbling through a messy, hard-fought orgasm that he's completely responsible for causing. The juices spilling from your sobbing canal leaves him fuzzy and ransacked as he struggles to consume them.
He gets up, wipes his slick-covered mouth, and watches your chest heave from a mix of exhaustion and pleasure, "I'll be right back."
Your vision is blurry, to say the least, but you make out the subtle lighting turning on in the background, the sounds of a faucet running, and then the touch of your gentle husband as he makes brief dabs with a towel against your nether regions. You groan at the contact.
"Does it hurt?"
You shake your head, voice barely there, "Just a bit sore, it was really intense."
A chuckle rolls off his lips that send flutters to your already pounding chest. Rin feels his lips twist into a smile that matches yours, unable to fight off the feelings of warm affection that bloom deep in him as you stare deep into his gaze. He bends down, planting a chaste kiss on your sweat-ridden forehead while undoing the strings of the laced bodysuit. "I'm sorry, let's get you out of this thing and clean up, okay?"
You run your body under the rush of the warm water in the shower, cheeks flushed and mind still processing the fresh events. A negative creeping thought gnaws against your skull, saying that maybe he'll sleep in his room again but that dissipates when you hear him entering the bathroom. You see your naked husband looking at the ground through the translucent curtains, almost in a shy manner, completely forgetting the fact that he dominated you just moments ago, and whispers, "Do you mind if I join you?"
It's your turn to laugh this time, "The shower you mean? Yea, you can."
"Mhm," He brushes the curtains away and steps behind you, hands grabbing your waist and pulling your bodies closer, "I meant for the night."
Suddenly, you find yourself smiling wide, it was infectious and silly, like you had just won a prize at the carnival fair. You melt against his chest and peer up into his sharp teal eyes, "Thought you'd never ask."
Tumblr media
TAGLIST
@wtfsaekyuny , @jukey , @broeagleblog , @freakingdinonuggies , @damutaaa , @idk-bro-gay , @saharei , @yesurmajesty , @vvi-site , @saeswifeeeeee , @marilover69 , @izayumi-chan , @whostakara , @talleythesimp , @short-black-diamond ,@certaindreampost , @solellmn , @crnnbrry-blog , @itoshiexx , @punkhazardlaw , @jinedia , @mandapanda16 , @erintaro , @tamimemo , @comet-kun , @shinha , @milktkags , @benignnotions , @dinosaursraur , @karmatiz , @vernorexiaaa , @iloveblogging2 , @peachcobblerinmymumsbasement , @keiitsune , @talleythereader , @redqueensmutt, @blissblossom
2K notes · View notes
inlovewithmattstur · 30 days
Text
Sunday nights - Chris x reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
no idea what to put for a summary besides just comfy and cozy nights with Chris 🫶🩷
warnings: none! just fluff
a/n: just sit back and enjoy<3 and for the Lovely @luverboychris enjoy<33
Sunday nights, it's a day everyone loves but dreads. it's the last day of the weekend, you already know it's gonna be busy the next day until Friday rolls around. school, work, babysitting, emails, everyone always has something to do.
Sunday is a day Chris cherishes so much though. it's the final day to relax and settle down, prepare a bit mentally for what's to come. the filming and possible conference, he'll have you to keep him grounded every time
and like clockwork, you're at his house, cuddled up on his bed watching a movie. "sixteen candles" was recently put on netflix but it's going to be taken off soon so you finally convinced him to watch it with you. "come onnn pleaseee! it's so good chris, it's the first of the trilogy. you'll FINALLY understand the breakfast club better after this I promise" you begged him.
"fine but ONLY if I can be the little spoon tonight, I wanna feel closer to you" he replied in a playful grumpy voice with a small smile on his face that he couldn't hide. you cheer at this throwing out 'thank yous' and 'youre the best' at him
you guys switch spots and get comfy again. his face pressed into your chest which he swears "it's the best pillow he's ever had" every time which makes you laugh. he'd always remind you that they're the perfect size and the comfiest thing he's ever laid on.
your arm around his waist, rubbing on his hip and down his v-line in a comforting manner. your other softly playing with his hair. he loves laying like this, it makes him feel so loved and warm. so close, the closest he could be to you. the smile on his face is the most adorable thing you've ever seen, it's so soft yet filled with so much that he didn't have to say
he may throw a small fit about watching rom-coms but it's honestly one of his favorite things to do with you. he loves watching how your face contorts to the scene on screen. the happy parts, the embarrassing part, the overly sappy ones. the way you yell at the screen when the characters or oblivious to something
he secretly loves these dumb romance movies. he only started watching them with you but he wonders why men don't watch them more often.
the style of sixteen candles makes him feel like he's living in the 80's when it came out. he almost feels like a teen girl watching this, he's so invested in it, so eager to see who Sam gets with at the end
he snugs closer to you, letting out a sigh in contentment and steals a kiss from you before returning his attention to the movie. you smile at him, Sunday nights are the nights you love almost as much as he does
a couple of hours pass and the movie's over by now, the ending leaving Chris in a trance. he knew it would end with Jake and Sam getting together but he didn't expect it to be like that
"why did they kiss over the cake like that?! and still lit! are they trying to catch themselves on fire??" he exclaimed, you stifle a laugh as you've seen this movie so many times and reacted like that the first time "it's movie logic Chris, they wouldn't catch on fire" you try to reason knowing there's no logic behind it
he looks at you all tired, his eyes low and about to close any second now. he tries to wipe the sleepiness away but it doesn't work
you turn on something else, something that won't keep you guys awake anymore and kiss his head, "you can sleep baby, it's getting late anyways" you say softly, getting comfy yourself but staying in the same position
"mm-kay my love, g'night" he mumbles out almost incoherently, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost instantly. you laugh to yourself quietly and do the same
Sunday nights are the nights you both cherish the most, the day to unwind and relax in each other's arms. the night to sleep as if nothing matters more than the presence of one another. the best day you could ever wish for.
cute edit to fit the fanfic<3
ANYWAYS HI HELLO IM EXHAUSTED BUT I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING. it's 4am, I'm going to bed. I love you, sleep well or I hope you slept well<3 eat well and drink plenty, I love y'all🩷🩷
masterlist
if you wanna be on the taglist
🩷🩷
tag list:
@luverboychris @rootbeerworshiper @matty-bear @lemon-criminal @itssophiasstuff @55sturn @lvrr-sturnioloo @keira324 @sturniolonotes @imwetforyourmom @angelworldspost @sunray-222 @letstripdotcom @crazycaroline @liz-stxrn @mattlover586 @junnniiieee07 @sturniozo @sturnsaddictt @sturn3ol0 @samandcolbyfan22 @fallininlust @sturnswrites @themattgirl @mkestrm @theyluv-meee @iminlovewithmina @princessbetsy123-blog @trickywritters @winterr-widow @mattsturniolosworld @salumaaa @caroline12b @mattsneezing @robins-scoop @kaceythecrunch @dracoflaco @wurlibydominicfike @mattybswife @orangelala @loveflimsz
466 notes · View notes
cxteangel · 26 days
Note
Hello, my request is the Vees with an artist reader. Each take notice of her talents and offer them work in their industries. Velvette recruiting her to draw new ideas for clothing, and Vox and Valentino making her a storyboard artist for their TV programs and films 🎥?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Vees X Artist Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: The Vees with an artist Reader and their relationship with them.
Notes: Hello!! I loved this request, since I love the Vees, and I'm an artist myself!! So yeah, I hope I wrote it well lmao, enjoy it!! <3
Tumblr media Tumblr media
All of the Vees got quite excited when they found out you were an artist, and Valentino was the first one to approach you.
He would praise your work a lot, not only because it is really good, but also because he wants you to work under him.
But not in the usual way (iykwim), instead, he wants you to make storyboards for him!
It's going to make his life easier if he had an idea of what's going to be in his.. Movies, with images, before actually filming it.
So he'd be really happy if you agreed on doing it for him.
The only thing you must know before actually accepting drawing it, is a really good anatomy, and a really strong mental health to draw whatever this guy may want..
Valentino get angry easily if people don't do things the exact way he wants, so you better have a good understanding on his ideas to put it on paper.
Is going to rip your drawings if he's too angry during the day and you didn't make the perfect drawing. Otherwise, he probably tries his best to control his anger.
Tumblr media
Velvette would not leave you alone until you agree at drawing new outfits for her, especially after you begun to make storyboards for Valentino.
She is definetly going to be dropping hints of this fact, and she's not hoping to stop it any time soon.
When you finally decide to draw her designs, Velvette would tell you she's really grateful and give you a quick kiss on your cheek before walking away scrolling through her phone.
Even if Velvette is probably the only one here who'd actually show you she's grateful, that doesn't mean she isn't harsh with you during work.
Listen, Velvette is not really rude, she is just not the softest person to give criticism.
Probably tries to gatekeep you away from the others, not only for work, but to just hang out with you in general.
In stressful days Velvette is going to avoid you, just in case.
Velvette is really hesitant when you give her ideas, but every single time she ends up liking it. I guess it's just her personality.
Tumblr media
After Vox saw you drawing for both of his friends (I hope they're really friends) , he's definitely going to call you.
It will take him a lot of effort to not hypnotize you right away to just draw for him.
But he's not doing it, Vox knows it's just a matter of time until you agree with him. If you don't, there's always Valentino and Velvette to help him out with it.
Vox is the one who needs the less amount of drawings, so you don't mind drawing him things for his TV program or new product designs in general.
Once in a while he might come to you just to thank you. But that's a really rare occasion, he only does it if you're feeling sad to try to cheer you up a bit more.
Probably tried offering to make you a graphic tablet, because it's really confusing to him on why you insist on drawing on paper even if he can give you any kind of electronic you want.
The most patient with you. Vox is also open to your ideas, since you're the artist, why not listen to someone who understands of design (like you) to give him an advice of his next product?
685 notes · View notes
starrystevie · 3 months
Text
18+ | cw: somno, smut | crossposted on twitter
eddie's loud, he can't help it. in everything he does, he's big & dramatic & commands the attention of the room. it's one of the reasons steve falls for him in the first place. when they're fucking in a tiny trailer with thin walls however it becomes a problem.
it only takes getting caught once with wayne's all knowing stare the next day when steve comes to pick eddie up for a date. he snuck out the window that morning to avoid being found but it turns out eddie's loud mouth did the work for them the night before.
if anything, steve's proud that he can fuck eddie enough that he can't keep his mouth shut. turn his brain and limbs to mush as he rattles out curse after curse, praise after praise. proud that he can get eddie so thoroughly fucked that his name is echoing off the walls.
at first it was cute, bending down to smother eddie's mouth with a kiss to swallow yet another too loud moan. at first they'd giggle when eddie would shout steve's name as he hit his favorite spot that set his nerves on fire. at first steve would whisper filth in his ear hoping he'd take the hint and quiet down to his level, slowing his hips to roll in an agonizing pace. but nothing worked. steve would still pound into him and eddie would still yell like they had the world all to themselves.
"you should just fuck me when i'm passed out," eddie moaned as they took advantage of wayne's overnight shift. "it'll -fuck- it'll be like the best wet dream i could ever have."
steve's hips stuttered as he thought about it, and then picked up even harder when he pictured it. "yeah? want me to keep you quiet, baby?"
it didn't take long for them to finish, took even less time to start round two after they got hard again while planning out the details. turns out they both are a little too into the idea of steve taking him apart when he's asleep.
the first time, eddie wakes up halfway through while steve is blowing him and is too excited to go back to sleep so he resorts to biting into a pillow to keep quiet. the second time, steve's too afraid of eddie waking up again so he settles with fucking into his own fist and then coming all over his bare ass. eddie wakes up while the sun rises to the sheets stuck to him with his cock hard and red which gets them both going again.
they finally hit the sweet spot after a while of trial and error.
they fall asleep curled around each other like they always do, only this time eddie's ass has been thoroughly stretched and steve falls asleep with his half hard cock nestled between his cheeks. when steve inevitably wakes up, skin sweaty where the two are pressed together, the fun can begin.
it doesn't take too long for him to get hard again, it doesn't take too long for him to slip his freshly lubed fingers into his ass, it doesn't take too long for him to get his cock fully surrounded by heat as he slides fully into eddie.
eddie snuffles against the pillow and steve freezes, an excited panic thrumming through his veins, until his boyfriend quiets back down with one final small whimper. he rolls his hips slowly, listens to the ambient noise in the trailer for any signs of someone else being awake and gently brings his hand up to cover eddie's mouth. just in case. just like eddie asked for however many times ago.
fucking into eddie when he's pliant is everything steve could have dreamed up. nothing will compare to being able to fuck exactly how they like to, loud and electric and fast and perfect, but this? grinding his hips with his nose pressed into the back of eddie's head, every inch of him on edge as he waits to either get caught or succeed, is a thrill in and of itself.
he comes probably too fast, too turned on by the whole thing. he comes buried deep in eddie, twitching out every last drop, keeping his hips pressed close. he comes with his mouth wide open on eddie's neck, teeth skimming over sensitive skin, whispering out curses that even the best ears couldn't hear because they're only meant for eddie's.
steve pulls out, sleepy & sated, reaching down to run his fingers through the mess of come & lube that follows. eddie whimpers something quiet & sweet so steve gives him his fingers against his lips like a reward for being good. for being quiet. for trusting steve like he does.
eddie's sore when he wakes up in the morning. he grimaces against the pull in his ass as he goes to stand until he realizes what happens. reaches between his legs to feel how tender his hole his. looks on the sheets and sees where he came against them in his sleep.
he wakes steve up with his mouth. considers it a much deserved payback until he's squirming against the mattress & whines out eddie's name.
"you fucked me?" eddie asks as he pops off with a grin. it's not a question that needs to be answered nor is the next one. "did it work?"
steve groans as he tangles his fingers in eddie's hair, bringing his mouth back where he wants it. mutters out a few curse words as eddie trails his fingers over his balls. "what do you think?"
"i think you need to shut up before i'm the one who has to keep you quiet now."
they have wayne's schedule memorized and eddie uses his standard early saturday morning shift that day as an excuse to make steve get as loud as he can, his name echoing off the walls this time around, driving him crazy with his lips and tongue and fingers.
little do they know that wayne now has his fingers plugging his ears with a grimace, wishing he hadn't swapped shifts with gary for the day, contemplating going in to work anyway to escape his loud ass nephew and his loud ass boyfriend.
584 notes · View notes
otakuworks · 3 months
Note
Hiiiiiii it's my first time asking, I really love ur genshin works and this may be a very huge request but I've been having a brainrot where Genshin men are in particular manhwa and the reader gets to be the protagonist.
My idea is Xiao as Duke Kedrey from Villainess is a Marionette, cuz he treasure his personal bubble and really is a strong warrior like Raphael.
Maybe Scara as Rezef, it's self explanatory lol
Or Childe as Jeremy Agriche from Roxana. He'll spoil his darling rotten and relationship can be quite toxic but still healthy nonetheless.
Or Kaeya as Heinrey from The Remarried Empress. They're both Casanovas and hot looking❤❤
Or Razor as Nine from Beware of the Villainess.
I know it's too much and you ignore this if you want if it's a bit overwhelming. But if you do, it's okay to not do all of it, I'll be satisfied even just with one. Thank you and have a great day!!!!
❛ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐖𝐀 𝐌𝐋. manhwa au
feat. Xiao, Scara, Childe, Kaeya, Bennett x GN!Reader | wc. 9.1Kaeya
disclaimer. if you haven't read any of these manhwas, don't worry, i won't spoil the story that much anyway. this fic will only be based on the manhwa and I'll try to explain it as the best I can do. and the first few bulleted paragraphs are the overview of the manhwa or the character.
note. this is genius level idea. thank you for requesting, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this prompt and reach 10k words lmao. I never got to write for razor 'cuz I still have to continue reading beware of the villainess but I do have an idea for bennett (my sec fav dps) in this prompt. i might do a part 2 with diluc who knows
cw. psychological, suggestive themes, yandere, childe
Tumblr media
main m.list genshin m.list
Tumblr media
𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 / 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 as 𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐘 !
Tumblr media
Not a single soul in the Empire does not know the fierce infatuation you harbor for the young Duke Alatus of Kedrey Dukedom. From his stunning golden eyes and dark green hair, everywhere he goes demands spotlight.
Ever since you caught the sight of him in one of the balls you were attending, you clung onto him like a leech, always closing the proximity, writing letters, and initiating conversation with him in hopes he'll reciprocate your feelings
Every interaction fills you with contentment and confidence. You're the eldest child of the Emperor, dignified, stunning and kind. Who wouldn't want an Imperial Nobility like you?
However, you've gotten way too engrossed for your undying love for him that you swept away the constant threat looming above you and your title as the Imperial Nobel.
The ballroom shimmers with golden lights, and the air buzzes with the sound of laughter and polite conversation with the soft hum of elegant music relaxing the nerves in the background, setting the perfect backdrop for the prestigious event where the whole Royal Family would be making an appearance.
Most notable Royal Family member to present was Y/N L/N, whom the rumors were circulating about of plausible marriage proposal to a certain Duke, unsurprisingly.
"Alatus!" You maneuvered your way to him, seemingly shameless for calling his name without his title before it.
"Your Highness." He greeted in such a desultory tone that anyone can deduce he's anything but ecstatic to see you.
You've known how distant and cold he acts toward everybody, but you were cursed with such a dense mind to comprehend he doesn't treat you any different; his stiff actions like simple greeting and short response equates how much he craves to stay furtive, contorted expressions and averting gazes are him expressing his displeasure in your presence and he definitely ignores your letters.
And yet you hope you can change his views of you by approaching him because of your burgeoning feelings. It didn't cross your mind how much he values his personal space and kept on insisting your infatuation, unbeknownst how much it irritates him.
"I'm glad you are here. Did you read my letters? I was hoping for your reply since last month but you remained unresponsive. I thought you might have been busy so you forgot to reply." You rambled on and on, you're too close for his liking but out of respect to your title as the Imperial Highness, Alatus stays silent.
One of the attendants offered you a chocolate dessert and you ate without regards, even offering one to the Duke. "I'm not a fan of sweets, Your Highness." He refused, eyes twitching.
"Oh? I apologize for that. It seems— *COUGH*"
For once, one expression painted the Duke's face out of all the times he wears his stoic facade. However, you don't know if you should be glad he's looking at you like that, he looks mortified.
"Imperial Highness! Quick! Fetch the doctor!" A Duchess yelled with clear distraught as she watches you slumped over the floor, coughing blood and alarmingly paling each second.
This incident is quite common amongst nobles.
You were poisoned.
Whoever did such thing never got to register in your brain as the poison intensifies and you doubled over from the scorching pain. Black dots danced in your vision, tempting to lure your eyes to close and pain only pushed you to do so
You barely registered the rushing footsteps of the guards or the nobles screaming before darkness greeted you like an old friend.
The Imperial Palace busied themselves for the recovery of the eldest royal, it even for busier when you were comatose. Security has been tight since then, there were more than necessary numbers of guards stationed outside your room.
Duke Alatus seems neutral with everything, rumors spread among the nobels that he never care for their highness, Y/N.
While it is true that he shows nothing but malice towards your incongruous advances, he does appreciate your efforts of getting closer on a microscopic level and deep down, there's a tinge of concern pricking his numb heart.
Still, his hatred and pride overpowers his concern, he never once visited you, not that visitors are allowed in the Imperial Palace anyway.
He does ask his informants regarding of your health condition. No one can gauge what thoughts running in his mind when he does so much as stare at the informant with a straight face.
And then one day, he received the news of your recovery, that you're finally awake.
You've been awakened by a startling nightmare that rattled your mind awake. For a comatose person in a cool air room, your forehead is sedimented with perspiration and all you can think of is how to escape from your wretched room.
Your maid came in only to react in astonishment to see you sitting up. When she asks how are you faring, you responded neither politely nor dismissively, when the doctor checked your vitals, you didn't throw a tantrum like you always do.
Behind your veil is a person desperate to survive the Imperial Palace before another catastrophic event occurs in the near future. You have to change your ways, it is for your benefit anyway.
The maid was suspicious of your every changing behavior as you were known for beautiful and luxurious nobel who throws jaundiced looks on anyone who do so much as to stare at Alatus.
Speaking of the Duke, you only realize he has no intention of reciprocating your feelings through the maids during your comatose state because there are times you lay there immobilized but your sense of hearing never fails you.
It was a bitter reality, you genuinely feel infatuated to the Duke and want nothing more but to know him better.
Unfortunately, your ways of showing affection is not appreciated to a man who values his dignity and protects his people first.
You chuckled at your stupidity, it was all spelled out for you to decipher but you chose to remain ignorant to the truth and now you got the deserving consequences of your actions. You suffer.
If time permits, you'd like to steer clear with Duke Alatus and seek forgiveness for the time you made him feel like an unworthy man who only attracts potential suitors by his looks and reputation.
He's so much more than that, and hopefully he'll find the right person who can show him love beyond on what you can give him.
For now you want to focus on running away from the Imperial Palace until the storm passes.
Weeks flew by and you've been attending more social balls to tell the whole empire that you've survived the assassination attempt, to convey nothing can hold you down. But to also give you enough time to map your escape in the palace.
It's not an easy task to fly away from the palace with the noble title on your head. Therefore, you would need someone to help you get away legally.
"M-Marriage?" Sputtered the Duke Alatus.
So much for asking for his forgiveness.
"I'm aware it sounds a salacious scheme to tie you down with me and I can only offer you my sincere words that I no longer bear any infatuation toward you, Duke. I've accepted the fact you have no room for romance and moved on. I hope you do the same and accept this contract. It's beneficial for both parties."
Sure it sounds like a scam and Alatus doesn't want to end up like his friend, Zhongli, who gets scam from left and right.
What baffles him is you sitting with such poise and authority that he no longer can see the past you who kept chasing him for answers to your confessions. You've matured. Mature enough to handle a crucial negotiation.
And it raises the question.
What happened?
He only knows you as the Royal Noble who follows him with lovesick eyes. He wasn't informed you could be downright. . . sexy.
"Your face is red, Duke. Is everything alright?"
"Yes." A pragmatic answer coming from a man punching himself on his mind for thinking lewd things about you.
"I'm not expecting a direct answer now, Duke. Take as much time as you need, but be reminded that I also have limited time. If you are not able to give me your answer within a month, I'll exterminate our negotiation and never speak it ever again."
Silence reigned supreme, the Duke's face never betrayed any emotion while you held your head high as you sip your tea. "I hope to hear your answer soon, Duke Alat—"
"I accept."
You blinked comically. "I beg your pardon?"
"I accept your offer."
"W-What? Are you certain?"
He leaned back and crossed his arms. "I am a soldier, everything I do is with certainty. I do not rush nor stall."
Your eyes escaped his scrutinizing gaze and slapped yourself at the back of your mind. Who were you kidding, of course Alatus wouldn't waste time and prefer to give direct answer. Times like this make you realize you don't know him at all and yet you claimed that you love him. Embarrassing.
"I understand. Starting tomorrow we are publicly a couple within 6 months, you help me with my escape and I'll help you in your foreign affairs under the Royal family's name."
You stuck your hand out for him to shake. "I'll be in your care."
"As I am."
Headline: "Royal Highness Y/N L/N and Duke Alatus Kedrey relationship has recently caused rumors to suggest their Highness Y/N has eloped with the Duke."
"This is an overkill." A nervous chuckle rumbled from you.
"I think it's justifiable." Countered the Duke.
"I believe so. What worries me is your take in this."
A frown settled deep in his eyebrows. "Worried?"
You mirrored his expression. "This headline would most likely attract journalists to interview you, possibly even dig your background to quench their thirst for answers." You paused and walked ahead of him in the garden.
"Knowing you don't like anyone to probe into your private life, it worries me to think about the plausible frauds you'll experience." You couldn't see his expression as you sighed.
Unbeknownst to you, his face is crunched up, forming an expression of what you can call it. . . confusion? Your words perplexed him to a whole new degree.
Weeks ago you were throwing yourself at him, you could care less of his feelings and only care for him to love you back, you did unimaginable things that he finds pathetic. You were selfsh, self-centered and other synonymous words.
But now. . .
Alatus sighed, massaging his temples. No use of thinking hard about their change, it could be a facade to let my guard down. As if that would ever happen anyway.
"I am not worthy of your concern, Your Highness. Please be rest assured that mere words won't affect this contract."
"Y/N."
"Pardon?"
"Call me Y/N when we're in public. It'd cause a stir if a couple address each other formally. Would it be alright if I call you by your first name?"
Again, you're being unusually solicitous for him. He was too stunned to speak and you took it as a negative sign.
"Do tell me when you're comfortable enough to let me call—"
"Why are you like this?" He bluntly asked.
You blinked owlishly. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
"Why are you pretending to be nice?"
You inwardly sighed. Of course there's no way he'll fall for your 'nice change' if anything, it made him more suspicious of your behavior. But really, you're showing genuine care for his needs and always try your best to assist him.
"I highly doubt you remember our first meeting, for you it might've been the worst day of your life. For me? It was the opposite."
"What?"
"My father is not as loving and caring for most people would think. Oh no, he's far from those, he's cruel and abusive." Alatus' eyes sharpened at the indication of domestic violence.
"He only saw me as a child who'd bring glory to the Empire, he cares for what value I can impart on behalf of his reputation. I have the beauty after all, but not the brains nor brawns. And he couldn't be satisfied with it." A bitter chuckle came from you.
"When I saw you at the ball, I was mesmerized like most men and women at first glance. You're dignified, strong, insightful and top of that you're undeniably gorgeous. I admire you like the rest of the population because you have everything my father wanted from me. I thought all those qualities were unreachable, and yet you exist. You made me feel inferior and I became insecure of myself. I only have my pretty face, without it I'm nothing but a disposable ornament. Do you know who poisoned me that night?"
He says nothing for a little while. He knew the answer right before you even asked. "Your father." There's a bite in his words.
"Perceptive as always, Duke Alatus." He couldn't match your careless words. If he was perceptive he would've figure out you feel threatened at your own home. He— Archons! He's pissed!
And for what reason? He asked himself.
"I pursued you since then, thinking my father would change the way he treats me if I had you with me, a perfect son-in-law— maybe then he'd look the way I expect a loving father would." Fists clenched, you tightly closed your eyes.
"I was a fool, alright. When he realized you're not interested in me, he deemed me worthless, hence why I was poisoned. He wanted to eliminate a thing that has no value anymore. It took me years to realize that he would never love me. No one would."
You've never experienced love, let alone how to show it properly. Only the Duke Alatus ever made you feel like a human worthy of showing basic manners to you without the influence of your title.
Your first meeting with him left a huge impression. It was at your debutant party, nobles attended and gossips were shared. A night that should've your spotlight, but it felt far from it.
For instance, you constantly felt out of place, as if you don't really belong in the social groups of nobility. Which was richly hypocritical, considering you also had an appetite for attention over individuality. The dichotomy left you uncertain on many occasions and you felt obligated to mask yourself behind a much more "proper" exterior. You can't define what's exactly proper, and so you would always second guess everything you do as feeble as greeting a new face and ask yourself if it's at their satisfactory.
At the end of the night, no one even noticed the star of the night had gone missing amidst their debut celebration. All except one.
Perched on the rim of the fountain, your bare feet submerged in the pool of water.
The cold sensation is strangely comforting, add the cool breeze of the night and you feel oddly at peace. Somehow contradictory to what you've read in romance books that people under stress usually crave the warmth of their partner. Perhaps the absence of love made you hunger for whatever's available for comfort, starving people will eat anything after all.
"Reduced to just sitting around. How absurd."
A frightening shriek escaped your lips, you made a hasty turn as the water splashed as you move. But that soon morphed in relief, the man in front of you impose no danger, if anything you'd feel the safest in his presence.
Duke Alatus is revered as the Hero in his Liyue Empire, the strongest fighter and apparently most handsome man to exist. And boy do those rumors did him any justice.
You've seen him from afar and couldn't help but fall for him at first sight, you wanted to get closer but you were always reminded how worthless you are and that someone like him would never bother batting their eyes to you.
And yet, he's here. In the flesh.
"What are you doing here?" You praised yourself for not stuttering in his presence. He merely shrugged before standing a few meet away from where you're sitting.
"I missed the chance to greet the host a blessed birthday, only to know that they've disappeared. Do you have a habit of playing hide and seek among your peers?" The satirical undertone must've flew over your ear and you looked at him, slightly aghast.
"H-How did you know I wasn't there?"
No one paid attention to you. So why would he?
He sighed, "Didn't you hear me? I was going to greet you but you somehow vanished in your party."
"You searched for me?"
He scoffed, "I'm here, aren't I? What kind of host would leave their debutante party behind?"
"You could've gone with your evening without pleasantries. It wouldn't reflect on your reputation, only mine, so why bother go all through this trouble to find me?" He gave you a blank look, but his eyes blinked in slight disbelief at your query.
"It wasn't trouble finding you, really. . . unless you prefer being alone at the moment, I can leave."
"No! I mean — ehem. . . you can stay." You muttered, an underlying embarrassment was present in your voice.
He perched an eyebrow. "You are an odd one as the rumors say."
It was a turning point to you. Being emotionally repressed and touch starved you are, you wanted more after the first sign of attention from him.
He gave you an ounce of your need to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be worthy of someone's time. It was enough for you to take it as a sign to pursue him.
But you realized a little too late that he would never reciprocate your feelings and the so-called "love" you have for him is the result of years being deprived from any compassion. You've mistaken hunger for love.
"Now you know the reason behind my desperation of escape and the need to change in order to succeed. Truthfully, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing of being considerate and all that. I have to apologize for making such attempts without researching." You made a mental note to visit the library later.
"Anyway, I've said many things today. Let's settle — OMPH!"
A gloved hand wrapped around your wrist and you were pulled backwards, only to softly bumped against a firm chest. "H-Huh? What's the matter, Duke?" You dumbly asked as you tilted your head up to glance at him.
His bangs shrouded whatever expression he has on his face. "You have my permission to call me Alatus, be it in public or private."
"Oh, OK." You're quite baffled what his actions are supposed to convey. Isn't he supposed to dislike physical contact?
"I first saw you as an incompetent noble, a typical royalty who's strength is heavily reliant on outward beauty." Damn, you should add straightforwardness in your compliments for him. "I've seen pretty faces everywhere, yours is nothing special."
"I've heard enough!" You tugged away from his grip, stinging tears threaten to fall. To think your only strength has been trampled on just like that feels like your hope vanishing. Your face is your only gateway to freedom and it—
"Tis why I am amazed to see you acquiring new strengths in your arsenal." E/C eyes found themselves clashing with Alatus' golden hues, there's a glint of emotion you couldn't decipher.
"Your Hi — Y/N, I promise to get you out of this hellhole. Our contract can exceed the 6 month rule for all I care." A blooming emotion spreads in you. He cares enough to finally notice you and your pain, and he's here to help you.
Don't get the wrong idea, self. He's helping me as an ally because he has a good heart. But I know I don't deserve someone so kind and he doesn't deserve someone so broken. I understand our fate is only meant for this; my savior and his misfortune.
You sighed as you remind yourself with that set boundaries. "You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you, Alatus."
"There's nothing to be grateful for. I'm happy to help someone in need, it's more than enough."
You smiled. And his heart skipped a beat.
A pretty face with a genuine bright grin.
You're beautiful when you're being you.
No bitterness. No ill-concealed pain. He has to rethink his words about your ''mediocre'' beauty.
It pisses me off when you sell yourself short with degrading thoughts, you're no mere ornament. You deserve to be loved, Y/N. I admire your strength and determination. You're a lot stronger than I was when I needed the strength to fight, you're someone I aimed to be in my darkest time. So, keep going and don't ever hesitate to call my name for help.
Little did they both know, Y/N was falling out of love while Alatus is falling in.
𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐈!𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 as 𝐑𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 !
Tumblr media
Many wise nobles would not dare cross paths with Prince Scaramouche Hill, his temperamental issues and rude behavior garnered him the reputation of a tyrant, but Y/N L/N had never counted themselves among the very wise.
You're the main character in every horror movie that instead of getting away from the first sign of danger, you run towards it because. . . why not? Where's the story if they'd just run away?
Wouldn't you guess it. You accepted his marriage proposal.
Now the question lingers: WHY?!
"Now, now. . . There is no need for such hasty decisions, for if such marriage were to be cancelled, then so too would the beneficial ties between our families. Is this what you truly want? A marriage for political convenience is what is being sought here, not love."
His ingenious words has been embedded in your mind ever since you avidly rejected the marriage proposal from the Empress herself. Making it much more difficult to retire on grounds of a healthy rejection was a rather callous way of dealing with part of the problem when the Prince himself outrightly called you out.
From the get-go, he was a walking red flag blessed with bewitching charms that you have fallen victim to. You've heard the rumors, he's anything but a saint, his looks might say otherwise but you've acquainted with his ugly side to conclude that your life will be full of thorns once you've wed.
This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. What would it be like to get to know this Prince? Can I make this marriage work?
#icanfixhim
The wedding ceremony went smoothly, vows were pronounced and rings were exchanged. Though the two of you never really said it aloud, you both weren't ready for the. . . "marital duties"
For tonight, the servants prepared the room the newlyweds will share with unimaginable extravagance, there were rose petals littered in a heart shaped in your bed, candles on each of the bedside table and two bottles of what it looks like strong liquor across the room, definitely intended.
You entered the shared room gripping your nightwear and promptly chugging down the liquor at your leisure.
Scaramouche is yet to come in this new room, part of you hoped you'll be too drunk to fulfill the marital duties. But as you look at the window, mirroring your inner turmoil, you know it's pointless.
It’s a moonless night, heavy with the weight of regret, shattered dreams and a long road of loveless marriage.
You clutched the remnants of your sanity and drowned yourself in the bitter solace of liquid courage to feel the emotions you’d been avoiding. If you'll lose everything in one night, might as well be under the influence to numb the feelings away.
The bottle was harshly snatched from your hand. "Do you plan to do this while you are drunk? Is this what they have taught you?" Came from your new husband.
The liquor did the best job to give you the courage to speak up to him, something that you lacked when he snagged your confidence at the lowest as you rejected this marriage.
"Someone has to be educated in the bedroom?" There's a sardonic undertone as you sway your head. "Well, pardon me, Prince. You barged in my home, proposed this bullshit and expect me to be knowledgeable in the art of pleasure in one week?"
You drunkenly stood up and mustered your best glare-that-can-put-you-sixfeet-under. "You. . . I gave you a benefit of a doubt and accepted this marriage thinking you're a subject of those biased rumors, but you absolutely pale in comparison."
This is where you're expecting expletives insults from him, his pride has been put to the test and Scaramouche was not known for his leniency.
In your drunken stupor, only the blur outline of his masculinity shadows your figure. Before you could retort anything else, he had lunged himself to you, specifically towards your lips.
Surprised marred your drunken face, what's more surprising was how gentle he moved his lips with yours, you'd expect him to be rough in intimacy which what greatly contributed to your anxiety but his gentle actions made you think otherwise.
Are we really doing this?
A hand cupped your cheek as if guiding you to tilt your head to the side while yours gripped the bed sheets. His lips traversed the corner of your lips down to your jaw, rendering you speechless as breathy moans escaped.
He must have noticed your reaction and promptly detached himself from you and you can finally breathe.
"I'm only marking you," His voice was incredibly soft, it was like another soul possessed his body, "We both don't want this. . . whether by obligation or not and I won't cross it. At least by marking you, it'll make people think we have done it."
Scaramouche raised your chin slightly and lifted your face towards him. Now both your faces were looking at each other. He was staring deep into your eyes, as if he was looking for your permission.
There's a certain way Scaramouche takes in your appearance — a thorough observation that doesn't miss the smallest detail about you.
What he sees are things he's familiar with. An enticing body and face which speaks of power and a strong will. A sharp mind, which makes him feel he's found an equal in intelligence. Someone who he wouldn't have to manipulate or trick into submission. . . because he knows he could get there with affection and a proper hand. And, perhaps above all, the way you look at him. As he does to you. . . there's a burning desire.
Why does he have to make this difficult for me?
His hands slide over your body in a smooth, slow way which makes your mind go numb. His hands cup you and caress the shape of your form. Your eyes close as his hands take their place in your hair. . . holding it like a trophy.
With the way he was raised by the Empress, Raiden Shogun, it shouldn't come as a surprise that Scaramouche views you as a property to own rather than a living human who possessed feelings.
The taste, the feeling of his lips against your neck, his breath against your neck. It's intoxicating. . . and leaves you gasping for more and your stomach fluttering. You feel his lips trail towards your neck, and just when you thought he'd move up to your lips — he sinks his teeth in just enough to leave a mark without hurting you.
"This should be enough."
As quickly as he left the mark so was his presence in the room as he hastily stood up and left without making so much noise.
The morning after your consummation, you thought he might treat you a little better than before but he seemed to have reversed back to his old self once again. Archons!
When nothing goes his way he'll use you as a ventilation, and you took every jabbing words and flying objects thrown. You never once complained, not when you know his soft side.
Pitied looks and whispers of sympathy were your daily highlights, everyone in the castle knows how badly the Prince has been treating you since the first day. But that's not true, he treated you like a human on your consummation night, he was more than a Prince with temper tantrums.
If only you can understand His Highness, though. Try as you might. . . You just didn't get him. It seemed like he was made up of several personalities that were constantly getting in each other's way.
"Fuck." Scaramouche was now slumped on the floor.
It was one of those days he'd use you as his target of frustration, nothing new. Scaramouche has tendency to temper tantrums. But today, his eyes brimmed with tears.
Scaramouche himself probably wasn't aware of his vulnerability, he would immediately leave your room and do god knows what.
"Your Highness?" Your meek voice was barely comprehensible in his ears, he was visibly trembling with his head tucked in his arms.
"Go away!" Despite his harsh refute, there's an underlying tone of a defeated man. It hurts to see him like this, nobody deserves to experience pain no matter the circumstances of their birth — Scaramouche shouldn't be an exception to this.
"But you're in pain." You frowned deeply and kneeled beside his trembling form, far enough to not trigger his fight or flight instinct.
"I'm always in pain!" He was shouting and mumbling to himself, but it didn't slip past your senses that he was almost whining about his situation, similar to a child crying out for his mother.
"You don't have to be if you let people help you."
"Help me. . .?" He reiterated the words as if it's in foreign language.
A sense of dread flood your senses as you silently gulped, but you remained rooted in your spot beside him.
"Yes, I know you're not used to it, you're probably denying it in your head as I speak. I won't force you to seek help, but know that someone would be willing to help you." Lies, he knew your words were baseless reassurance to make him feel better.
"Yeah, and I treat you well." He sputtered those words with condescending ire and finally look up to you with so much loathsome in his purple eyes. "You're no different than the people who have deceived me."
Your eyebrows shot in surprise. So he had people who took him for granted? It's no wonder he was shaped like this — spiteful and vindictive. It was easier for him like this, to let people hate him than take advantage of whatever's left of him.
"I'm not deceiving you, Your Highness. I'm willing to help you."
"Do you take me as an idiot? Words hold no value or truth behind them." He spat bitterly and a firm scowl marred his expression before he sauntered to the exit.
"Willing?" He scoffed and finally stood up, unraveling his height that was only inch taller than yours. "Don't make me laugh, people like you always have ulterior motives to help."
"I'm not like one of those people. I give you my word for that."
"Your words prove me nothing. Get out of my sight!"
"But this is my room. . ."
His eyes twitched. "This is our room."
"Okay! I'll go!" You surrendered and stumbled your way out of the room without looking back.
Scaramouche wasn't aware when it began, he does know the feeling started off as a small simmer from a pot of heated water. He finds himself beginning to notice every small detail of you.
It began with him noticing the small dimples on your cheek when you smile or laugh with your full heart instead of the prim and proper laugh from etiquette lessons.
He noticed your habits depending on your mood — your hands become restless when anxious, your eyes dart anywhere but his eyes when you're uncomfortable, or the way you bit your lip when feeling awkward.
Is this. . .
Love. Scaramouche hated that word for love is always affiliated with trust which both reeked of vulnerability, and the sort of emotion that the Prince couldn't afford to display — not when all it had ever done in the past was cause him torment. The past, he had felt resentful because the Empress had handed over too much baggage unilaterally to him — his Princely upbringing, the sole heir duties, arranged marriage. Damn it all.
Thereafter, he had acquired unnecessary headaches from his supposed spouse. He had wrongly assumed your character, for after showing you early signs of his apparent animosity, it only fed your burning curiosity.
He was quick to chalk it up as your naivety, you did reject the proposal for the sole purpose of finding true love.
Only fools would expect love from a mere paper contract. If he had any sympathy left he would gladly drown you with it.
But his assumptions got stomped when you displayed regal actions against the nobles who badmouthed you about the marriage. It was expected that negative rumors would spread and most people would merely pretend they're deaf. You, on the other hand, confronted them and stood up for yourself.
You're far from naive, it seems. If not naive, then what's driving you to endure his treatment and keep leeching from him? The question blanketed his mind for weeks.
You, who's ever curious about the Prince and the the said Prince befuddled by your actions. Put it together and it creates subtle transition in your relationship.
He starts letting you engage him in conversations, as silly as they were sometimes. His answers were still brimming with condescension and ire, but somehow you couldn't shake the feeling that they somehow lacked the bite. . . the intention to hurt.
Or maybe you were just too numb to register it. Either way, you're liking the subtle changes in your relationship.
"HEY!" You gasped and bolt right up, trickle of perspiration on your temples. "W-What. . .?"
Scaramouche was beside you, his usual glare plastered on his face, but his hands are drawing circles on your back, soothing your labored breaths.
For every shift, there's the touch of his hand, the sound of his smooth voice that promises to protect you. His eyes follow you even in your shaking — the light reflected in them assuring that they won't disappear.
"Relax, reality is more often terrifying than nightmares."
Very reassuring.
Scaramouche's expression is somber as he regards you in the dark. There's a bit of hesitation before he reaches out to you. . . embracing you, like a blanket being your safe haven from the Boogeymen.
"I'm here, there's no need to fear." He whispered quietly as his grasp adjusts to be gentler against the softness of your skin as you trembled.
This is him. This is Scaramouche Hill.
This is what you were curious and hoping to see from him. No pedantical micromanagement, no cruelty born of mistrust and ill experience. Just Scaramouche, passionate, attentive and content. Kind in his own way, sardonic and inquisitive, not as selfish as everyone assumed. It was such a privilege to see it.
𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 as 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄 !
Tumblr media
They say there's a fine line between sanity and madness — Childe Agriche has a foot on both sides. And as the youngest son in the House of Black Agriches, he's the most 'normal' and 'enthusiastic' being you can meet in the manor.
You were a simple commoner who heard the rumors circulating the Black Agriches, if it taught you anything is that Agriches repay kindness with gold and insults with death. Yeah, a family you won't dare to cross with.
Apparently you don't share the same sentiment as your parents as they were too deep of their dept with the Agriche.
But they were spared and in exchange of their mercy, your parents sold you off with them to work in their house. They didn't even bat an eye and shoved you down to your knees.
You felt every kinds of betrayal that exist and snitched on your parents by exposing them of their illegal deeds and what they did to their money that put them in that situation.
Enraged, the head of the Agriche swiftly beheaded them and took you in the manor. It was a relatively quiet mansion, you thought you were going to die in the next few hours but you found yourself suddenly face to face with gleaming mischievous cerulean eyes that seems to enrapture you.
"Who you might be? A new toy for my siblings?" His jovial tone makes you think he's such a harmless creature, which was proven incorrect when he suddenly revealed of wanting you as his pet.
Did he mean slave? Surely he won't potty train you or tell you to sit and roll in front of strangers like a child(e), would he?
"Stand down, Childe. This is Y/N, a new addition of our workers." His father introduced before lighting a cigarette.
He scoffed, "We already have so many workers. Why don't they just become my pet instead?" You had to hold back the broadening of your eyes at this. What on Earth is wrong with these people?
The head of the Agriche merely shrugged as he waves a dismissive hand. "Do what you want." Your heart dropped at the nonchalant response. It'd be better if you get to work in the mansion, not be someone's slave.
An arm was suddenly draped over your shoulders. "Awesome! My name is Childe Agriche, you're now my new pet. So, let me break it down for you; you obey, reward. You disobey, punishment. Simple."
Did I mention he enjoys toying with his victims and making them his pet? Pet, as in putting a collar and chaining you up in the basement? And what was that again? He's supposed to be the most normal?
You're either stuck in a room where he claims to be your cage or following him in around the manor with the collar still on.
At first, you were scared what he might do to you, but it turns out he really honors his words. You obey him and nothing bad will ever happen to you. It really is that simple as he said.
You've heard how other Agriches tend to torture their pets for doing mistakes or even obeying as they're told. You haven't seen the display of power within the Agriches for Childe insists you stay in your cellar room, but the rumors you've heard guaranteed your every caution in meeting new people in the manor, even a maid.
With Childe, however, it doesn't automatically warrant punishment for a simple mistake. He opts to teach you what's right and wrong.
It's unbelievable how patient he is with you, it's more unbelievable to think he's an Agriche with this kind of attitude.
One day, he entered your cell and announced that you'll be living together with him in his room. The collar will have to remain for the sake of your 'safety' as he claimed. Thus, you found yourself laying on a thin satin silk mattress that left no little discomfort.
It didn't seem like he has many tasks to deal within the household, he'd occasionally be away for a few hours before returning bloody murder with crimson stains on his royal clothes.
Driven by a tinge of concern, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking. "What happened? Are you alright?" It was the first time you had seen him what the rumors would potray about him.
His eyebrows furrow in bafflement. "You're. . . asking me if I'm alright?" He asked, almost in disbelief that such question exists.
"Of course! Look at your clothes. How can you expect me not to worry?" Your courageous episode ended when you realized the mistake, you lowered your head. "I apologize. I didn't mean to come out as impudent—"
Your statement was cut short when a cold hand grasped your chin and tilt your head up. Those cerulean eyes never fails to instill the butterflies in your stomach.
"I didn't realize how cute you are until now." His voice dropped a few octaves low it sent shivers in your spine, "Nobody has ever asked about my health, and then there's you — chained up in my bed, concern for me." He chuckled, the type of chuckle that tells you he enjoys a good prey, that he likes how far you will go for him— he's testing you.
Even being concern can get you in trouble?! What's next? I'm getting punished just by breathing?!
"I don't mean no harm." Your demure voice only made him more elated.
"Oh, dear Y/N. Even if you do, there's no way you can land a hit on me," he paused, swiping his tongue out to wet his lower lip. "But fortunately, I'm a masochist myself. I might allow you to bite me if you behave~"
He really is an Agriche.
"Getting back. Are you really OK?" It took every innermost strength in you to divert the topic.
In response, he flashed you a cheeky smile before his hand slowly descended on the base of your neck. Latching his gloved fingers around until he's holding you in a chokehold.
He hasn't done anything, yet your breath hitched.
"You're so small and vulnerable, I can easily snap your neck like this." Proving his point, he added pressure which now made you choke and clasped your hands on his wrist out of reflex. "And yet, you're asking me if I'm OK?"
The pressure on your neck didn't loosen one bit, it feels like he has no intention of actually hurting you, just setting an example of what he can potentially do to you.
You barely can breath, not only because of his hold on your neck, but also the fact he's unbearably close your breaths are mingling as you exhale. You feel like fainting.
"B-Because I don't like seeing you hurt!"
His expression dropped instantaneously. An undecipherable emotion passed his countenance as his strands casted shadow over his blue eyes.
"T-Tartaglia?" Was his alter ego.
He insisted on you calling him by that name.
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why do you care?"
You ask yourself the same question, any sane person wouldn't think twice to care for a cold hearted killer, but any sinner like him wouldn't treat you with such kindness.
"Is such reason needed? I saw you stained with blood, it's natural for me to fret."
". . ."
". . ."
"Aww~" He cooed, finally loosening the hold on your neck.
What an odd reaction. You took a huge inhale and nearly slide down as your knees weakened, but he has his arm around you to keep your equilibrium in balance.
You felt his gloved hand tilting your chin up, his bright blue eyes swirled with emotions you couldn't deduce.
Everything he's doing alerts your senses to run, but your body just craves for more of his touch. Archons above! I'm losing my mind! The way he looks you like a predator — a hungry and sadistic animal, looking to ravage your soul. He's a dangerous, charismatic and highly intelligent man. A twisted fantasy.
"You know what, you'll be my significant other!"
"WHAT?!"
"And you should call me Ajax from now on, too!"
How many names does he have?!
The next thing you know was Childe's entire personality shifting. He freed you from the chains and treats you like a true royalty. Childe innate possessiveness of you increased tenfold after he was exposed to your gentle side.
Overwhelming was the right word for what you felt after a few days of his behavior.
But your "boyfriend" kept insisting in gift giving, it's his primary love language. You mentioned your favorite food? He'll have it on the dining table. You fancy a clothing? Consider the whole shop yours. Someone being an asshole to you? Expect a dried head by your doorstep.
Make no mistake in kidnapping his S/O — he'll rain down all kinds of hell. Sadly (not really) some people just don't heed warnings and accept death so readily.
The temperature in the room seemed to grow colder in cadence with the ice in Childe's gaze. "You mean to tell me, that you are all incompetent to do a simple task of guarding my room where my S/O was? And now they're gone?"
*SPLAT* *THUMP*
One head rolled over
Nobody breathed.
"For every minute you fail to bring the culprit in my playroom equates for a head. If I happen to find them before any of you — don't expect a one way to ticket to hell. I will guarantee to entertain all of you along with the perpetrators."
Childe Agriche loves to play and this was one of his games. Touche! As if he can expect those vacuous idiots to find Y/N.
The door closed with an ominous boom that echoed throughout what sounded like a massive but empty chamber.
Childe knew anger, he was well acquainted with the said red emotion but he had always try to mask it under the pretense of a funny and boisterous man. This time however, he's been uncharacteristically calm and everyone in the manor feels like walking on a tip of a knife.
They wouldn't understand, none of those imbeciles would know what it feels to be with Y/N. He scoffed as he sharpens his arrowhead before placing it in his quiver. There was no time to waste, he wants you back in his arms.
And he did.
With bloodshed, of course.
"GAHHH!"
Childe moved swiftly and gracefully, so much so they had trouble keeping up with him. He came up behind one of the culprits the one that was holding you captive, and broke his neck rather quickly before slashing at another who was nearby.
He quickly ducked, avoiding the enemy coming up from behind, and grabbed his arm, flipping him over, and pinning him down. Suddenly a loud shrill was heard as a bone cracked, and then he moved on the other.
Blood dripped from his fingers, but before a drop could even hit the floor, he’d already struck dead another one, splattering even more blood. One by one the went down, until they’d all been wiped out, annihilated by their supposed prey. They were outmatched by the youngest Agriche.
And by the glint in Childe’s cerulean eyes, he was clearly enjoying the thrill of the kill. The Agriche barely even broke a sweat, his breathing remaining even despite the number of men he had been fighting against him.
Against the occluded moon, he stalked towards your unconscious form and lifted you bridal style, Childe looked more like a predator than a lover, a hunt ending with the prey pinned and helpless. The smell of death permeated the frigid air. Only corpses lay around him.
Holding the unconscious Y/N in his arms, his expression did not once flinch. It was as if he was only holding a feather. Amidst the night, his figure glided on the ground agile and light, before finally disappearing behind the shadows of the nearby trees. . .
You woke up a little disgruntled and already felt the pain in your head flaring as soon as you forced yourself awake. So much for being Childe's S/O, it comes with a free package of his enemies hunting you down.
"Y/N, you're awake." You heard an unusually soft voice beside you as you felt the bed shifts in weight followed by a bone crushing hug from your-supposed-lover.
Pain flared in your abdomen and you had to bite back a grimace. "I swear you're not leaving my sight ever again." His breath is like the scent of night-blooming jasmine on the breeze: soft and soothing, yet sweet and enticing, effectively distracting you from the pain.
If you only you had witnessed the bloodshed you would think twice than to fall for his honeyed words.
"Y-You have blood on your clothes. . ." The indication of your query made him smirked. "It's my trophy."
You decided not to probe any further. In his language, that meant another massacre to stain his clothes and it only means whoever abducted you reached the other side as such a young age.
"Thank you for saving me. . ."
His eyes softened as he chuckled. "You're thanking the same man who shed blood for you?"
"I'm thanking the man who cares enough about me." You refuted.
You were too absorbed in hugging him back that you failed to notice the eerie smile on his lips. His next words were spoken next to your ear, laced with obvious unhinged obsession over you.
"Right, I'm the only one who would save you in face of danger and care for your well-being. No other people can do as much as I can for you, so stay with me forever, Y/N."
Was it your imagination or did you just see a psychotic grin?
𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 as 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐙𝐋𝐎 !
Tumblr media
How atrocious can your life get when you learned the news of your husband handpicking a concubine for himself, then the said trash woman actually has the guts to call you her in-law just because you have the same husband.
Now, you pride yourself for being patient, courageous and intelligent. You wouldn't have ruled an empire if it wasn't for your educated upbringing. But even a ruler like you can feel overwhelmed and burned out, and would find a temporary solace to cry your heart out.
The fact your husband picking his concubine is not the issue inconveniencing you the most. It was his and that man-stealer attitude is what suffocated you the most.
Outrageous to see the trash playing the victim card and shedding fat crocodile tears just to earn your husband's favor. Audacious to think of herself as the same level as you when she doesn't even know basic etiquette rules and the difference between a garbage and herself. Humiliating on how he made you a fool on many occasions and sided with his mistress while everyone whispered on how the Emperor favored his concubine over his own S/O.
And he dare say you're not allowed to have an affair?
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
Which lead you in a secluded forest to vent out your feelings and temporarily get away from all that's happening in the palace. You're perched beside a rock while your head is tucked in your crossed arms, burying your head, silently weeping in the depths of the green environment.
*FLAP* *FLAP* *FLAP*
You reluctantly raise your head to investigate the noise, of course you knew it was some type of bird, but you were curious what type of bird it was as you rarely get to visit nature. You'd appreciate a little company even if it's from an avian creature.
Majestic, charming, jaw dropping, and everything synonymous to the word beautiful can be attached to this mystical bird.
What caught your attention the most was its beautiful midnight blue and cerulean ombre feathers, you've never seen such bird in the books you've read let alone see one in real life. Next was its body that's bigger than your head and a wingspan that's almost in par with the length of your arms spread open. And lastly, the note tied to its leg.
"How beautiful. Will you allow me to touch you?" You didn't even notice yourself nearing the bird. A slight hesitance made you flinched when the bird nailed its bright eyes on you. Even the eyes resembled the finest jewel in your kingdom.
You retracted your hand under the assumption you had scared the bird. However, the surprise entered your face when the bird flapped its wings and perched on your suspended hand in the air. It looks like it doesn't sense you as a threat. That's a good start.
Admiring nature's blessing, you caught the note tied to its legs which made you think if this bird is a pet of some noble. "Hmm, are you lost? Based on your looks, you don't look like a wild animal that happened to stumble upon this forest by accident."
You took the note from its feet and read the content;
"I am a guest from abroad who will soon arrive at the new year's ceremony, and I write this note while drunk."
An amused chuckle left your lips as you look back at the bird who's tilting its head in curiosity of your reaction. "I'm sorry, your master sounds like an interesting person and a pain in the back. I feel bad you lost your way here. Hmm. . . should I write back?"
It wasn't even a question, you hastily fish out your pocket pen and wrote a sassy reply at the back of the piece of parchment. Hopefully it doesn't offend the owner of the bird.
You tied the note once again the rubbed its head one last time. "Off you go, little one. Deliver my message to your drunk master and fly your way back home safely."
The bird spreads its wings before taking flight.
You sighed once you lost sight of the avian creature.
Suddenly, you were harshly reminded of your duties and the circumstances you're currently in. As much as possible you don't really want to deal with another mistress-related issues within the palace and have your husband pin the blame on you. Crestfallen, you made your way back to the palace.
What you didn't know was the pair of jewel-like eyes following your movement from one of the tallest trees.
"What an interesting person." A man chuckled as he held up the note that was recently tied to his leg.
It was none other than the blue avian creature that has assumed the image of a man possessing a tanned complexion and navy-blue hair with streaks of lighter blue, accompanied by a waist-length lock of hair that's being held by a low ponytail.
As he reads the content of your message, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by what had occurred prior to you noticing his presence. Why were you crying? Crying doesn't suit a beautiful person like you, especially a sassy one at that.
"Your bird has found its way to me, if it is able to find its way back, I shall be relived, for it means it must be cleverer than its inarticulate drunk master." Sassy yet regal, indeed.
A lopsided grin adorned his lips. "So it seems I must cleverly find my way back to you if I want to see you again, Your Highness. And I must say, I love a good challenge."
Days have become grueling for you to endure, but you persevered through it all. The mistress has become more comfortable in causing ruckus in the palace just to get the Emperor's attention on her.
You don't really care about all the shenanigans she's planning to pull so long as it doesn't interfere in your line of work as a wise ruler.
Then one day, the similar bird you found in the forest came flying at your balcony and kept scratching the glass pane to get your attention.
You gasped once you realized who it was. "It's you again. How are you so good in finding me?" And it seems as though it has a new note attached to its leg.
"I'd like to think I'm a bit more intelligent than a bird. I've now woken up from my drunken stupor."
You giggled at the person's confidence. "Lumine, get me a pen and paper, will you?" You addressed to your attendant standing by the doorway.
"It seems as if you haven't woken up completely. What is the bird's name?"
Lumine, your attendant, commented at the ardor look on your face. "It's fun for you too, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
"A bit. . .?" You coyly replied, this little interaction with the bird and its master is the highlight of your day. Not even the whole mistress thing can be bothered right now.
As if challenging your thoughts, your husband walked in after you just sent away the bird with the letter of yours.
The conversation was tad too accusing, saying you're spreading rumors about the mistress to drag her down. Ha! Even if the rumors were false, it speaks volume.
You left the palace once again, to your safe haven.
It seems as though it's going to be your hobby to seclude yourself when no one's watching and let the nature be a witness of your depressive moments.
*FLAP* *FLAP* *FLAP*
Hearing the familiar flapping, you subconsciously stretched out your arm for the bird to land.
"It's you again!"
And a new note.
"Is such thing needed? You may name it, if you'd like."
"What an indifferent master." You sighed at the response and gaze at the bird. "A kind, intelligent bird like you deserves a name which befits your character. So your name shall be. . ."
"Queen."
Unbeknownst to you, the bird bristled at the name.
"Thank you for coming to see me, Queen. I'm in good spirits now, thanks to you." You embraced the bird and pecked its beak. "I hope you will come visit me again."
The bird flew toward the inky sky. Anyone wouldn't be able to tell the slight blush coating his head.
He landed a few hectares from your and transformed back to his naked human form.
"Archons above. How could they name a man, "Queen"?" He rubbed his dark blue hair. Seemingly sheepish for being mistaken as a girl.
"What was that?" A new voice spoke.
It belonged to the red bird perched on the branches.
"You said you'd go survey the premises. Did you take another detour again?" The miffed tone is impossible to miss. He flew down and morphed to a man with luscious crimson hair that cascades down to his waist and sharp tantalizing red eyes.
"No, of course not. I went to reconnoiter the Imperial Palace."
"Did you really?"
"You don't believe me, brother?"
He gave his brother a sharp glare. "You haven't given me enough reason to. But do remember your position and responsibility, especially in this foreign country."
"I get it. Don't have to nag me, Diluc."
Kaeya Laszlo, first in line to the throne of the Khaenri'ah Kingdom. The center of many rumors, such as those which describe his great cruelty or great beauty.
A few of those say he's a Casanova, and that he associates with dangerous pirates hence why he hasn't met any woman or man of his interest.
And finally, the long awaited New Year's Ceremony came. Noble figures were all invited to celebrate the occasion with your Kingdom as the host.
As for your husband, he's quite busy mingling with his mistress and you were left with your friends.
"Dear god. How shameless is the Emperor to have the face in showing off his. . . unpalatable mistress."
"There is no need for your ire. The law states that the Emperor can take more than one spouse." A tight smile graced your lips.
One of your friends scoffed. "Even it that were the case, a man with a noble heart wouldn't take one more to fulfill his insecurities. You are more than enough and the Emperor does not deserve you."
"Greetings, Your Majesty." An elegant man gracefully interrupted your conversation with your friends.
You turn to look at the man clad in a white-blue knight uniform, specifically more stylish than what you usually on a regular knight at your Kingdom. A Prince, you concluded.
As you shift your apprehensive eyes on him, the little details such accessories and intonation caught your undivided attention.
Silver rings on those long, dexterous fingers, silver necklace around the neck that held his head way too high, silver tongue in that mouth home to all kinds of sins. He was the epitome of being devious; so much so that he could literally walk right off anything by just talking his way out of it.
"I am Kaeya Laszlo, first Prince of the Khaenri'ah Kingdom."
Everyone around you gasped and some almost fainted while you remained level-headed.
"Greetings, Prince Kaeya. I have welcomed you earlier today, but it never crossed my mind to engage a talk to such an esteemed guest of ours."
It's more like I never expected someone like you to approach me. You thought sardonically.
"Do I come off as cold to you, Your Highness? Pardon but that is not my intention, but surely you'll allow me to make worth of your time." He chuckled wistfully, a smirk has overtaken his lips.
Great God. If he endeavoured to make you fall for him as much as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You just couldn't shake off the feeling that you know this man.
Burst of giggles erupted around you while your eyebrow perched. "Cold? You don't strike me as such, if anything, your bold statement has proven me otherwise."
"Oh, and what would be your answer?"
"I—"
"Of course they agree! Please don't mind us and enjoy your evening together, Prince Kaeya!" One glare against dozens of mischievous eyes is like fighting tooth with nail.
"Shall we?" He offered his hand to guide you in his predestined destination. "I sure hope it is worthwhile, Prince Kaeya." You took his hand and my god was his hand the iceberg.
"Call me Kaeya for starters and I shall call you Y/N."
First name basis already?
"Is that a demand?"
"Does it sound like a demand?"
"It certainly does."
"Well, it is up to you to decide whether to oblige or not." He smiled.
God, it's unfair to have the blessings of charm.
"Where are we going?"
The young man beckoned his head to the exit. "Somewhere your husband won't suspect a thing."
"You really do sound like a Casanova."
"Oh dear, don't tell me you believe those hearsay."
You shrugged. "I do not, but you've been anything as what the rumors have described you thus far."
"You made me curious of you."
"How so?"
Arriving at the garden, he glances at the full moon before turning to stare right at you. "Your eyes are beautiful, yet they also look so empty oftentimes. Your movements and the way you speak are very refined and regal, but they can turn cold, or even rude at times. You're a paradox I'd love to solve, Y/N." Kaeya paused, "But I feel like you're a paradox I could never solve, no matter how hard I try."
This stare off could go on forever, if Kaeya had his way. The tension is obvious, but the air between you both is too tempting — too addicting to resist.
He doesn't look away. . . not one bit and neither do you. His eyes are fixed on yours, his breath steady and his pulse strong. A part of him wants you to make a move. . . to show that you feel as strongly for him as he feels for you.
The other part just wants to steal you away and make you his.
Spoiler alert: he did.
𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓 as 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 !
Tumblr media
It's old news for aristocratic children get engaged before they could debut. But in your case, you're not merely marrying a boy of your family's choice.
You're marrying the infamous Monstrous Crown Prince Bennett; the child who was rumored to have been cursed to bring misfortune to those around him. Thus, he has lived his entire life in the confinements of his four walls.
Fretful thoughts flooded your mind as your carriage neared his mansion. Imperial children usually stays at the Imperial Palace with the King and Queen, however in Prince Bennett's case, he was segregated to live in another mansion built specifically for him to stay out of the spotlight — or as others should say it, for him to not spread the curse of bad luck.
You don't usually treat people based on senseless rumors, but you do heed the rumors as a guide for you to be cautious. Prince Bennett is by far the most unknown factor you have to deal with despite the rumors surrounding him. What is he like? Is he a snob? Does he really bring bad luck?
Those thoughts have kept you all night that you didn't have time to sleep. Somewhere along the way, you fell in a deep slumber, ignoring the occasional jerk of the carriage as it hits a bump on the road.
Constant whimpering reminding you of a kicked puppy was what woke you up from your blissful beauty rest.
For a moment, you have forgotten what happened before you fell asleep. Through your blurried vision, you noticed the walls and ceiling looking dull with the simple light shades of painting, the bed you're resting felt foreign to the touch, the minimalist approach from the interior design and lack of other furnitures made you think you're in someone's room.
"G-Gah! Yo-You're awake. . ." A meek voice said from beside you, it's easy to mistaken it as a woman's voice if it wasn't for the boyish undertone.
You blinked several times before adjusting your sight. There's a hooded boy at the very far right of your bedside, and from the looks of it, he seemed terrified to even close an inch gap.
"Who are you?" Was million dollar question. The boy visibly bristled. It's quite clear for you that he's not used to social interaction.
"I-I. . . am Bennett." He spoke with a low, soothing tone that was laced with a soft accent. Despite his voice being smooth and even, he stared back at you with unbidden curiosity, one that seemed to peer into your very soul.
"Bennett?! Oh Lord, I greet His Majesty the Crown Prince!" You promptly bowed your head as low as it can get.
"W-Wait, no, please don't do that! I don't deserve your respect and besides, we're equals now, feel free to call me Bennett if you like."
He doesn't deserve respect? What a load of bullcrap does that mean? A frown has settled deeply in the creases of your forehead. This boy is anything but what the rumors have described him.
"Your Hig— Bennett, you could be an outcast or a peasant and I'd still treat you with respect. Don't say you don't deserve decent manners." You're almost fuming at this point.
"But I'm a monster. I don't deserve anything, even you."
Something in the purity of his statement triggered you.
"I bring bad luck to everyone. I could hurt you in the future and I don't want that, I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me."
You could feel the last of your residual resentment fading away, getting replaced by a deep sense of compassion — as well as a healthy dose of curiosity. What would this boy, your future husband, truly be like?
"You're no monster, Bennett. No monster would be concerned for my well-being and selflessly label themselves as such to ward me off." He seemed to perk up at your claim.
"Don't ever call yourself as such. I can't stand it."
"I don't understand, you're the first one to say that to me."
A frown has settled on your brows as you came to stand next to him. "You don't need to for now, I'll show you."
Bennett was none of those rumors. You have concluded that ever since you met him, he has been kind and considerate to your well-being. You have never met someone who would ask which side of the table they're more comfortable to eat with — not until Bennett.
The boy was overwhelming with perfervid compassion and the strong urge to give love, it can feel suffocating at times but that's what made you like him.
There's just this nagging feeling in your gut that he's forced to act like a doting husband due to the fact you're engaged. Is it all an obligation? Or he's simply this passionate?
"Are you not upset at this?" You had asked one night.
"Upset about what?"
"About our arranged marriage."
Bennett may appear jubilant around you but you can't help to think he harbors ill will to this arrangement. "I see no reason why I would." He replied, smiling at you as per usual.
"Why is that?"
He tear his gaze from you before briefly interlocking your hands. So warm and full of passion, you promptly responded to the gesture by drawing circles with your thumb.
"You're the best thing to happen in my life. I can't explain this feeling but I do know I can't be happy without you. Thank you for coming in my life, Y/N."
Tumblr media
━━ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. bennett's way too short cuz I ran out of ideas T-T this took wayyyyyy tooooo long, but I'm glad it turned out well. what do you think of this au? I'm planning on making a part 2 for other genshin men, I'm actually starting it already but I still need to finish other prompts.
━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @atsukawolfcat @spyanya @ittosoneandoniwife @a-rose-byanothername @lasignoramybeloved @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @gookimswife
©OTAKUWORKS_2023
414 notes · View notes
highvern · 28 days
Text
Ateez in Different NSFW Careers
Pairing: ot8
Genre: smut, 21+
Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious
Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot
read more here
Hongjoong:
onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.
Seunghwa:
amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.
Yunho:
boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.
Yeosang:
audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.
San:
fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone
Mingi:
nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.
Wooyoung:
cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.
Jongho:
dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry
-
Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
251 notes · View notes
redbullgirly · 2 months
Note
Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭
It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))
EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]
Fernando Alonso x reader
Masterlist
Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD
Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).
If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.
Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.
You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.
When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.
Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.
The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.
You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.
Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.
Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.
For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.
“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.
“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.
You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”
The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.
Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.
Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.
You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.
All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.
-----
You couldn't believe it.
As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?
It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.
Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.
To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.
Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.
Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.
As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.
Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?
He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.
You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.
“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”
And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.
“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”
“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”
“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly. 
The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.
“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.
Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.
Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.
Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.
Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.
In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat.  You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.
It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.
“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.
Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.
“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.
When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.
“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.
Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.
“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.
You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.
“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.
You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.
“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.
However, he didn't let go of your hand.
“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.
“I'm not going anywhere with you.”
“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”
It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.
“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.
Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?
So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.
You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.
“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.
“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”
Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.
“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.
“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”
That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.
“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.
This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”
You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.
For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.
Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.
Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.
You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.
“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.
When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.
“What's all this?”
You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”
“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.
“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”
“You work overtime?”
Now you were starting to get irritated.
“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.
But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.
Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.
“Y/N, I-”
“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.
You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?
And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.
-----
You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.
Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.
However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.
It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.
And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.
When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.
The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.
You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?
When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.
You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.
Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.
Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.
“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.
“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.
“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”
The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.
“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.
“Aren't we talking right now?”
“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.
“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.
He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.
“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”
Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.
“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.
And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.
Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.
“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.
-----
Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.
And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.
You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.
“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.
“But Nando, I need to finish these-”
He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.
“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.
Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.
And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.
“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.
You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.
“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.
“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”
Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.
Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.
THE END
Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)
272 notes · View notes
averagecygnet-blog · 11 days
Text
emma is the villain of tgwdlm
I need to talk about this oh my god
because it's told from the hive's perspective. paul is the protagonist because he is the one who resists them but must ultimately come to accept that they're right. emma is the one who must be beaten through force.
the difference between the hero and the villain is that the hero must change, while the villain cannot. (I'm not speaking in universals here, just generalizations of how the narrative structures work that tgwdlm uses in parody.) the hero and the villain both hold a belief that represents the thematic evil; by the end of the story, the hero must undergo apotheosis, which is to say, ultimate unity with the thematic good. once this is achieved, he can defeat the villain, who represents the thematic evil completely and is incapable of change.
to the hive, "good" is unquestioning conformity to the group's ideals, specifically, singing and dancing in sync with everybody else. "evil" is refusing to sing and dance along when, clearly, you want to.
paul is the perfect protagonist because he resists song and dance, but largely because it makes him uncomfortable. getting out of your comfort zone is necessary for change! it's a good thing to let yourself go through something uncomfortable in order to come out the other side better and stronger for it. (that much is true; however, sometimes discomfort is a legitimate sign that you should stay away from something.) paul has never really tried singing or dancing, and deep down, is afraid that if he tried it, he might like it. exactly the sort of person who can be converted and used as a shining example of the hive's righteousness.
emma must be the villain because her refusal to fall in line is a choice. she can sing, she can dance, she was in brigadoon in high school and she fuckin killed it, she is even taught a whole ass song with choreography by the hive on their first morning in hatchetfield (emma's comment about how they have to sing "all the time, apparently!" and zoey's implied presence at the theater when the meteor hit - because she was with sam, and sam was there - strongly suggests that nora and zoey were zombified all morning and she had no idea). it's stated by hidgens and suggested by nora and zoey that getting a human to sing/dance along with them is supposed to be a sort of mesmerizing tactic that the hive uses to start synchronizing a person to the hive mind, but emma refuses. she sings and she dances, just like they want, but she chooses to actively hate it the whole time, on principle. she can't be convinced; they have to swarm her, surround her on all sides. let it out is meant to win paul to their side; inevitable is just to gloat.
in the bar scene in hidgens' bunker, emma says that she must be the villain to paul's hero because she was in the musical that got him to hate musicals. on the one hand, she had it backwards; she's the villain because according to the hive, the all-encompassing narrative power, he's not supposed to hate musicals. on the other hand, she's kind of right: paul is the protagonist because he is the guy who didn't like musicals, while emma is the villain because she has the capacity to like musicals as well as experience in them, but has chosen to reject them.
who is the hero and who is the villain all depends on who is telling the story. and the hive is telling this story. don't forget that.
250 notes · View notes