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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

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baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest.

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails.

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing.

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee.

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?”

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.”

“She is pretty adorable.”

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually.

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.”

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug.

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.”

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—”

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to.

“Is something wrong with my shirt?”

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise.

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip.

“Can we have one?”

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made.

“You--you mean like a baby?”

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes.

“I thought we were waiting on that.”

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.”

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!”

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.”

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve.

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—”

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—”

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense.

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter.

“What? What’s wrong?”

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.”

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.”

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes.

“You’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.”

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle.

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.”

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment.

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically.

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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dollfacefantasy · 3 months

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Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl.

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff

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silantryoo · 24 days

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nakamura kazuha x le sserafim!reader (fluff)

WARNINGS ; scheming, possessiveness (non-toxic)

kazuha lived a hectic life, almost as hectic as her mind.

at age three, she decided to throw herself into a raging fire.

she had listened to one of her close friends (as close as children could get at that age, at least) rave about how fun their after-school activities were. how she felt like the spotlight was on her, and only her.

kazuha would never admit it, but she craved attention. she yearned to be seen and be recognized, to be watched and to amaze. her after-school activities (read: watching cartoons and drawing stick figures for her parents to interpret) left her with a restlessness, one that relayed onto her parents.

("kazuha! stop cutting holes into your blankets!")

nearly all her childhood memories consisted of school and ballet. it was a monotonous rinse and repeat. each day, she woke up with the dull sensation of aching and routine.

it was fun. it was exciting.

kazuha knew she was good. there was no doubt about it. she would get comments from other parents, praising her, and her mom and dad constantly walked around with their chins held high, knowing how well they're daughter performed.

she was a performer. an amazing one at that.

it didn't go unrecognized. as soon as she reached high school, she earned herself a hefty scholarship, attending one of the most rigorous ballet academies in the world.

kazuha had everything a ballerina could ever want to achieve, but somehow, a sudden emptiness started to consume her.

ballet was fun. kazuha knew what to do to get the spotlight. she knew how to catch the attention of the audience. it was a test, a rigorous evaluation of everything she knew in each class, in each recital.

it was a test, one which she had studied.

but nakamura kazuha wanted to perform.

she would've lied if she said she joined hybe purely out of ambition.

kazuha knew about kpop. she wasn't born in the last century. she, although not as diehard as her roommate, liked blackpink and bts. she knew their discography well enough to attend concerts, and her roommate usually blasted some random song from an idol group while washing the dishes.

(she refused to mention her secret twitter page that somehow shifted into a blackpink fan account.)

when she had gotten the email from hybe, kazuha was more than hesitant. she heard horror stories about the training, how foreigners were forced to speak a language they knew none of. kazuha was already accustomed to how rigorous ballet was, but she knew that the language barrier would be the final straw to making her break.

still, she couldn't do this forever. she couldn't die doing ballet, of feeling the dull ache of something missing.

"i don't know." kazuha sighed, gritting her teeth as she thought about that email again.

Dear Nakamura Kazuha...

("how did they find out my email address and my full name?!")

her roommate sighed. "i think you should."

"and leave everything behind?" kazuha shivered at the thought. change was fun as it was scary. "what if my parents say no?.

mina shook her head. "as if they would. they know how your brain works."

kazuha couldn't disagree with her. her parents were her number one supporters. if she decided to be a cashier at the nearest 7eleven, they would support her.

"besides," mina smirked. kazuha always became worried when her friend was smug. "i heard some of the izone members-"

l/n y/n.

"izone?"

kazuha hadn't known much about izone in all honesty.

all she knew was that miyawaki sakura, honda hitomi, and yabuki nako were in the group. she had heard their songs, and although she had always wanted to get into them, she never had the time.

but then there was you.

your minju-unnie said that it was okay that your family group disbanded. she said that it was an opportunity for growth and change, and despite her face full of tears, you tried your best to believe her.

packing your bags was the hardest thing you had to do. your roommates, wonyoung and yujin, were quiet and solemn. it was unlike the three of you. your unnies always heard shouting from your room, whether it was you and yujin arguing over the air conditioning, or wonyoung begging you to go shopping with her.

you were their maknaes.

now, you were no one's.

being a group of thirteen, someone was always left out, no matter how hard eunbi or sakura tried. sometimes, it was one of the two. other times, it was willingly hyewon, trying to avoid working.

sometimes, it was you.

everyone grouped up. yujin and wonyoung were going back to their company, starship. hitomi, sakura, and nako were getting ready to fly back to japan. yena and yuri talked to a bumbling and restless chaewon, crying into their arms. chaeyeon and hyewon were in the corner, worriedly watching eunbi as she scanned everyone's faces.

"y/n-ah."

you turned around, wiping the tears off your face.

"minju-unnie." you couldn't help but smile at the older girl.

minju was your rock.

she was a year older, and almost, if not more, confused than you about the whole idol thing. she was shy and insecure, always double-checking if things were done right.

but she was always there. minju always cared, even when she didn't have time to care.

she was the older sister you had always wanted (regardless of whatever chaewon and yena said during interviews and lives).

"give me a hug."

"okay."

you smiled, holding her tight. you could feel her tears dripping onto your shoulder, and her hand gripping your shirt.

minju was afraid, just like you were.

"i'm still your unnie after this, okay?" you didn't know if minju was trying to convince you or herself, but it didn't matter. "talk to me about anything."

you pulled back.

why did this feel like a goodbye? why did it feel like everyone knew this was a goodbye.

you didn't want them to leave. you didn't want them to forget you.

"unnie-"

"i'll be okay." minju could always read your mind somehow. "everything will be okay."

"okay." it'll be okay. everything will be okay. you'll still have your family members. "i trust you, unnie."

a week later, you, chaewon, minju, and sakura received an email.

everything will be okay.

being okay came in the form of nakamura kazuha.

you had seen her on that video call, talking in broken sentences with a cute accent. she read the paper in front of her, and you could visibly remember the light reflecting the hiragana pronunciation from the back.

a month later, she flew in.

nakamura kazuha was pretty.

a soft knock echoed through your room, the vinyl drowning it out after a few moments. the clock on your table read one am.

it could've been anyone of your group members at this point. maybe it was yunjin, dragging you out to go eat with one of her friends (despite it being past midnight). it could've been sakura, just wanting to sit next to you as she knitted. maybe it was eunchae too, claiming your room was colder despite her living in a different dorm complex. maybe it was chaewon...

you shook your head. chaewon wouldn't leave her room.

the door creaked open, puppy eyes staring back at you.

"hi."

kazuha.

you smiled. part of you was glad that minju never took the offer from hybe, otherwise she would pester you nonstop about your (extremely obvious) crush on the japanese ballerina.

you waved your hand, telling her to go inside. the younger girl beamed at you, a red tint dusting the apples of her cheeks.

"i got something!"

you raised an eyebrow, sitting up as you tried to peak at what she was holding.

"what is it?"

kazuha blinked, trying to calm herself down from bursting at the thought of spending time with you.

it didn't matter to her that you two had been friends for more than a year. being near you was enough to make her heart double in size.

"i, uh, i bought a lego set." she couldn't show that her confidence was wavering. "yunjin-unnie doesn't wanna do it with me."

you frowned.

you loved yunjin as much as the next person did, but you hated it when kazuha talked about her. the ballerina seemed to worship the ground that yunjin walked on.

the worst part was the fact you couldn't blame her. back in izone, there was a moment in time when you had done the same with one of your former members.

minju still teased you about your former crush.

the room went quiet, and kazuha could tell that you were caught in your head again. she always wondered if you thought about her when you were lost in your thoughts. maybe if she knew, she would find the courage to tell you her true feelings.

kazuha fiddled with the box, her voice suddenly a whisper.

"do you," kazuha blushed harder. "do you wanna do it with me?"

although you knew that kazuha most likely went to you after yunjin had said no, you couldn't help but agree. it didn't matter to you that you always seemed to be kazuha's second thought. all that mattered was that she thought of you.

you nodded, and the younger girl couldn't help but smile brightly.

("it'll be a good excuse for you to confess! maybe you'll even kiss her."

"unnie!")

you moved aside, letting kazuha sit across from you. she couldn't help but blush at the feeling of your covers. your room always seemed softer and brighter than hers, just like how you seemed prettier than everyone else.

kazuha sighed. maybe yunjin was right. maybe kazuha had fallen a bit too much in like and ended up in love.

she didn't mind though, not when you felt so familiar to the spotlight.

"these flowers are pretty." you looked closely at the orchids, humming as you traced the box with your finger.

mina had always mentioned how she was a sucker for pretty girls. she vividly remembers the two of them in their second-grade science class, kazuha tensing up whenever her teacher came near, or the time that one of her closest friends back in the academy complimented her physique, and she stiffened up so hard that she strained her neck.

when she first saw you during that video call, she was more calm than she expected. kazuha knew that she was gonna meet her celebrity crush, and the thought of you knowing she existed nearly made her brain short-circuit but she prepared. kazuha wasn't weak-willed.

and then she met you in real life.

somehow, she had forgotten how to speak at all.

("kazuha, right?"

"mmh!")

even after two years, she still struggled to form thoughts around you. it wasn't her fault that you were pretty.

kazuha cleared her throat, her face heating up as she realized how long she had stayed silent.

the two of you got to work quickly, the lull of the record playing. pieces of lego scattered your bedsheet, the two of you (mostly just you) struggling to figure out which piece went where.

"so..." you fiddled with a piece, one that you assumed to be the leaf. "you got these for yunjin-unnie?"

kazuha snapped out of her daze, too focused on completing the set in front of her. she always got too into these things.

"huh?"

"the flowers." you smiled, holding back an 'aw'. kazuha was too adorable for her own good. "you said yunjin-unnie didn't want to build them with you."

kazuha couldn't help but avoid your gaze.

she knew that you weren't exactly the best when it came to anything that required hand-eye coordination and focus. she also knew that she desperately wanted to spend time with you. you had been too busy meeting up with your former members and she had been missing you a bit too much.

she had seen the set while window-shopping.

they looked easy enough, one that wouldn't confuse you as much as the other ones, but hard enough to make sure it took more than one sitting.

it was a perfect excuse.

"oh, um," kazuha didn't know why it suddenly got so hot in your room. "no, i got them just because."

you glanced at her, watching as she toyed with the piece in her hand. you had no reason to doubt the younger girl, but you had to admit it was odd.

you couldn't complain, however. kazuha was here, and that's all you wanted.

the two of you continued, you looking over every so often. the scattered pieces seemed to never end, and despite the younger girl's dexterity, your lack of seemed to prolong the process more than it should've (just like she had hoped).

"this has a lot of parts." you muttered, feeling bad. "i think you picked the wrong person for this, zuha."

kazuha, like always, smiled at you as if she was smiling for the audience.

"i don't mind it taking long."

it was breathtaking.

"if you say so..."

you yawned, rubbing your eyes as you curled up against the futon.

you loved comebacks more than an idol should. it was fun to roam around, exploring the building of whatever showcase it was. being the only extrovert in le sserafim, you also made it your duty to help the others (and yourself) connect with whoever you seemed to cross paths with.

most days, you would already be outside, introducing sakura to whoever walked by.

not today. not when you were running on three hours of sleep.

"y/n-ah," sakura's voice echoed in your brain. "did you see my iron anywhere?"

"chaewon-unnie had it last." you yawned out.

sakura glared at her leader, watching as chaewon dug through her comically large bag. she needed to use it after the show. chaewon couldn't look like a mess in front of min anyone.

the leader stared you down, your peaceful body irritating her.

"snitch."

your mouth dropped open.

a couple years ago, back in izone, chaewon wouldn't dare insult you (although snitch was barely an insult). it didn't matter whether you barged into her room unannounced and left the door open, insulting you was off-limits.

as one of your unnie's once said, insulting you is equivalent to scolding a kitten who didn't know any better.

"i'm telling eunbi-unnie!" you whined, pouting.

chaewon laughed, pinching your cheek as if your threat meant nothing to her. you were basically her little sister after all. the worst thing that your 'mom' would do was scold her.

"like you told her about your crush on zuha?" chaewon snorted as she saw how red your cheeks had suddenly gotten. "how she's so pretty when she dances and how you wanna kiss her?"

you slapped her arm away, embarrassed. you should've known that eunbi had told chaewon (and probably the rest of the other girls) about your infatuation with the ballerina in your current group.

maybe that's why wonyoung gave you a thumbs up when she saw you and kazuha gathering drinks for the rest of your members.

"kkura-unnie!" you turned to the eldest, her figure hidden under a purple blanket. "chaewon-unnie being annoying again!"

you stared at the blob, waiting for it to utter a word. something that hopefully defended you from your child-like leader. sakura tended to take your side, anyway, except when-

you squinted, watching as the blanket shook up and down.

was she...

"stop laughing!" you groaned, throwing your head back.

you thought that somehow, especially since hong eunchae was in your group, chaewon and sakura would stop treating you like a maknae.

it seemed to be worse now, the two throwing jabs at your unrequited crush when the three of you were left alone.

"when are you gonna ask her out, y/n-ah?" sakura sat up, her voice drowning out the door opening. "you can't pine forever."

eunchae looked around, her eyes beaming with curiosity.

"ask who out?"

chaewon screamed as the youngest's voice echoed from behind, her eyes wide open as she jumped onto the couch. somehow, sakura followed with her, the sheer volume of the leader's voice frightening her.

"jesus, eunchae..." chaewon clutched her heart. "you scared me."

beside her, sakura's head hung low as she tried to catch her breath.

eunchae chose to ignore the two, glancing at you with shining wonder.

"who are you gonna ask out, unnie?"

she already knew who you were talking about. eunchae wasn't dumb. she saw the quiet glances and the bright smiles you and kazuha sent to each other. she knew that sakura saw it too.

but somehow, neither you nor your ballerina did.

you bit your tongue, debating whether or not to tell the younger girl in front of you.

you trusted eunchae. the young girl knew how to keep a secret unlike some people (yunjin and chaewon), but you also knew she had a tendency to meddle when the chance was given to her. it was why your junior, minji, and chaewon were so adamant about keeping her and her friend, haerin, away from each other.

you hummed, blurting out the second name that you could think of.

"minju-unnie."

"minju-sunbaenim?" eunchae shook her head. she didn't know you were this bad at lying. "as if chaewon-unnie would let that happen."

all eyes shifted to chaewon as her ears burned a firey red.

"yah!"

eunchae rolled her eyes, pouting as she ignored her leader's half-hearted scolding.

"so?" the youngest continued to press. "who is it?"

you shrugged, not knowing that the two of you were thinking about the same girl. "no one."

"but-"

the door opened, kazuha and yunjin entering the cramped room with a boxful of cheesecake.

chaewon frowned. she had told them to get real food. not dessert.

"what is that?" chaewon glared at the white reflecting the lights.

yunjin looked down, half confused and half serious. "it's a container...?"

with a deep breath, chaewon closed her eyes. she always wondered how eunbi managed to keep some sanity when choi yena, kang hyewon, and ahn yujin were all under her care.

part of her knew that if yunjin was added to that mix, eunbi would combust.

"but i ordered rice...?"

chaewon looked at the proud smile on her member's face. "it's made with flour, so it's close enough."

huh yunjin was gonna give her an aneurysm.

"have you told her yet?"

being ambushed while drying her hair wasn't exactly how kazuha wanted to spend her night.

in all honesty, she had mentally prepared herself to confess to you later today. from the moment her six alarms rang, she knew that she'd do it.

she didn't take into account how many people would stop by and say hi to you.

kazuha frowned. why did you know so many pretty people?

"no..."

yunjin frowned, pointing at her with the fork in her hand. "you said you'd do it today?"

kazuha loved the thrill of the spotlight. she loved showing the world that, not only was she talented, she was confident. she held herself with a poise that she knew many people could never compare to.

kazuha never crumbled under the presence of the spotlight.

why was it so different with you?

"told who what yet?"

kazuha spun around, her eyes wide. it had slipped her mind eunchae usually drank a caprisun around this time. something about her nightly routine...

(kazuha tried to pay attention, but eunchae talked fast, faster than she could translate in her head.)

"what?" yunjin laughed awkwardly, her mouth scrunching up. "told who what?"

leave it to yunjin to make things obvious.

"you're such a bad liar, unnie." eunchae rolled her eyes. "so, who is it zuha-unnie?"

kazuha swallowed air, her fingers nervously tapping on her side. if eunchae found out, there was no doubt that she'd tell you before kazuha herself could.

"no one."

the youngest sighed. everyone seemed to think she was five years old or something. they might as well have told her santa was real.

eunchae shook her head, plastering an unbothered smile on her face.

the maknae had decided a while ago to not get in between you and kazuha. she liked how the two of you acted like two stupid shoujo characters, dancing around their feelings. yes, it frustrated her, but at the very least, she found daily entertainment.

everyone had forced her hand.

"oh..." eunchae nodded. "you're just like y/n-unnie."

kazuha's head perked up almost instantly, like a dog when they smelt a treat nearby.

"what?" eunchae knew something about you? was it something she didn't know? "what about her?"

the youngest bit back a smirk.

"i heard that she was gonna ask someone out."

someone...

kazuha frowned.

someone?

did she know them? were they close to you? was it one of your former members? was that why you had been so busy visiting them instead of paying attention to her?

"who?" kazuha's mind couldn't stop racing as she named all the people you had visited in the past month.

eunchae chuckled, squeezing past her and grabbing a drink from the fridge. "i'm not telling!"

"what?" gears turned in kazuha's head, her frown deepening. "who?"

eunchae smiled. if she was right and kazuha thought like any lead in any of her favorite tv shows, planning a seed of anxiety would be enough for her to finally do something.

"she's probably teasing, zuha." yunjin's voice was laced with nervousness, never before seeing kazuha in such a state of panic.

"maybe..." the youngest sighed.

wow... she was a genius.

"so," the youngest stabbed her juice open, sipping as she acted innocently. "do you guys think minju-sunbaenim is pretty?"

the kitchen went silent.

"...what?"

yunjin's eyes widened. she never knew kazuha's voice could be so intimidating.

"minju-sunbaenim?"

minju? kim minju?

how was she supposed to compete against kim minju?

kazuha liked spending time with you.

she liked how easily she made you laugh, how your eyes seemed to brighten at every word she uttered. she took note of how your cheeks tinged red, and how you'd stare at her as if she was the focus of your attention.

your spotlight was on her.

she'd never tell you, but there was a reason why she had gotten so close to yunjin out of nowhere.

it was obvious how you liked jokes, stupid or not. you laughed at whatever was said, even if imaginary tomatoes were being hurled towards the other person.

huh yunjin always managed to make you laugh, and kazuha knew from the first day she met you that she wanted that as well. she wanted your eyes on her and only her.

("take it."

"a joke book, yunjin-unnie? i don't think..."

"it'll work. trust me.")

now, the spotlight was somewhere else. somewhere familiar... somewhere you were used to.

it was driving her insane.

kazuha looked up, watching as you struggled with the legos in your hand.

"do you like minju-sunbaenim?"

you paused, confusion suddenly appearing in your eyes.

"minju-unnie?"

kazuha, too filled with anxiousness and determination, thought nothing of it.

"do you like her?"

you blinked. kazuha had never been this blunt, nor this flat with you.

your searched your brain for an explanation, but none came to. "where'd this come from?"

kazuha frowned. that wasn't a no.

"eunchae said you did."

you laughed quietly, shaking your head as the girl in front of you sulked. gently, you put the last piece together, staring at the orchid head in your hand.

"don't listen to eunchae." you smiled, her eyes hardening as she took in your words. "she just heard i liked someone and-"

someone?

there was someone, just not kim minju.

kazuha nodded internally. she could compete with someone. in fact, she was sure she would win. as long as it wasn't another person like minju (god forbid it was hyewon), she'd be fine.

hell, she'd fight lee chaeyeon for you.

"who?"

"who?" you blushed under the dim light of your lamp, the thought of confessing to kazuha outright flustering you. "someone..."

the ballerina clenched her jaw. she didn't understand why you wouldn't tell her.

she was greedy. she had always been. kazuha needed to learn to share the spotlight, but she had always struggled with it. she needed to learn to accept that not everything came to her the way she wanted it to, no matter how hard she tried.

"i think we did it!" you smiled, clicking the last piece of the set together. "i'm so glad that's over with-"

she wasn't gonna share you.

kazuha crawled over, not caring that her knee had crushed the bottom of the pot that the two of you worked so hard on.

"kazuha!"

your eyes widened in horror as it shattered under her weight. it took you two hours of work, and so much patience that you felt like you had transcended time at certain points.

kazuha didn't care.

she craved the spotlight. she craved you.

her hand rested on the side of your neck, pulling you into a kiss she had so desperately dreamt of each night.

you barely registered what was going on, your brain hopping from grieve to confusion to flustered in less than a second. her mouth was on yours. kazuha was kissing you.

humming, your eyes screwed shut as you focused all your attention on her. you could taste the faint layer of chapstick on her lips, the one that you had always wondered what tasted like.

sweet. you smiled. like her perfume.

you pulled back awkwardly, watching as she semi-hovered over you, and struggled to maintain her position.

"focus on me instead." she ignored the sharp pieces digging themselves into her knee. "like me instead, unnie."

you looked into her dark irises, her breathing heavy as they searched yours. you couldn't believe how out of nowhere kazuha had been. you had known her long enough to know how she kept her thoughts to herself, rarely speaking out unless something had happened.

you paused.

oh.

"eunchae, you sneaky little..." you shook your head, deciding to scold the youngest another time. now, your focus was kazuha.

her eyes never wavered away from yours, almost as if she was silently pleading for confirmation.

with a smile, you chuckled. "you're the someone, kazuha."

kazuha's face went blank, shifting to her knees.

"huh?" her face heat up. she had never been more embarrassed in her life. "but eunchae said..."

you gave her a pointed look.

"exactly."

kazuha clenched her eyes as she sat back to the opposite of you. how did a fifteen-year-old manage to out-smart her.

i got played.

"so..." kazuha sat cross-legged, glancing sadly at the broken figure in front of her. "i broke our flowers for nothing?"

you couldn't help but let out a laugh, watching as the girl across from you reminisced about the state of the lego set a few minutes ago.

"it's okay." you hummed, picking up the pieces. "it just means more time together."

kazuha hummed happily, going back to work to fix the vase. the more time she spent with you, the better.

together...

that was another conversation for another day.

eunchae stared at the fake flowers on the living room table, smiling as her scheming had worked perfectly.

she was glad that you two were finally dating, even if that meant you and kazuha (poorly) snuck around the dorms.

it was also a plus that she got treats for not telling chaewon about anything (not like she was going to).

"do you know orchids mean love?" sakura said, glancing at her phone.

"love?" chaewon laughed. you were too young to know what love was. "y/nnie didn't even have her first kiss yet."

yunjin's eyes bulged out, not sure if she was hearing wrong. "she didn't tell you?"

"unnie."

"oops."

> main masterlist.

#nakamura kazuha x reader #kazuha nakamura x reader #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

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ncityprincess · 2 months

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how yuta would be as a boyfriend

The series continues 🤭 check out the other members in my masterlist!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-like i said, he is totally a gomez addams type of lover

-and based on astrology, we know scorpios are passionate and intense af

-so best believe this man is going to do any and everything to get you

-he’s not gonna just date anybody

-he has to be completely and utterly consumed by the person he is with

-a once in a lifetime connection

-he would be all about you. mind, body and soul

-he wouldn’t just like you, he would be infatuated by you and borderline obsessed

-without even having a single conversation with you

-he just observes you, and immediately knows he has to have you

-one day, jaehyun invites his girlfriend and her best friend (you) over to an infamous 127 Karaoke Extravaganza

-and immediately yuta knows within the first five minutes of meeting you that he’s gonna make you his

-after hanging out for a few weeks and getting to know you more he takes you off the market so that no one else can have you

-finders keepers losers weepers <3

-he’s not gonna bullshit you

-what you see is what you get

-he’s not going to waste your time or his

-that’s why he wastes no time in making it official

-but anywho, yuta is super attentive and caring as a boyfriend

-you can literally turn your brain off when you’re around him

-he’s going to be your eyes and ears for you

-and yuta already has that “don’t fuck with me” aura about him

-so you will always feel safe and secure around him

-but more than that

-he just makes you feel seen and beautiful

-you never have to question where he stands with you

-will proudly show you off to everyone in his life

-everyone within an 10 mile radius will know you’re with him

-holds your hand, or waist, or the small of your back wherever you go

-and it makes you feel super girly and loved

-now I know we all may automatically think he’d be super possessive over you

-especially if other men try to hit on you

-but for some reason a small part of me thinks he would get an ego boost when other dudes gawk at you

-it gives him a rush of pride, knowing that he has what everyone wants

-he knows you’re fine as shit, and other people should know it too

-but if they get disrespectful with it, things can turn ugly real mf quick so watch out!

-loves to surprise you with outfits for date night

-he has a really good eye for fashion and knows what flatters your body surprisingly well

- he’s alwayssss thinking about you

-what he can do for you, how he can make you happy, what do you need

-he will do things like put gas in your car the night before you leave for work

-clean your room so that you can focus on studying for a test

-draw you a bubble bath and give you a thorough body massage when you tell him you had a rough day

-he can tell what kind of mood you’re in with just one look at you

-he has studied you inside and out

-and secretly hopes that you do the same for him 🥲

-he has a service mindset

-that definitely translates in and out the bedroom ;)

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cythiraeth · 5 months

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cupid's chokehold! - i. e. the moment genshin men knew they've fallen for you

✧ ─ ⌑ pairing: gn!reader x al-haitham, cyno, xiao (separate)

✧ ─ ⌑ short summary: the exact moment (or process which lead to it) when genshin men knew that they are head over heels in love with you!

✧ ─ ⌑ about the work: lowercase, fluff, not proof-read, lighter (?) and more free form of the work this time!

✧ ─ ⌑ notes: ehe, long time no see! i'm back to life and posting, so to start i picked something that was easier to write and is slightly in a different form than my previous works, however, i hope you'll like it :> also, i'm still waiting for any work requests, so if you have any idea, feel free to messege me!!

✧ ─ ⌑ word count: 1.5 k in total

al-haitham

seeing you in a pretty, elegant outfit, probably some kind of dress or suit, maybe showing your collarbones or it just being mesmerizing, it's up to you how you imagine a perfect fit ;) he is just PHYSICALLY UNABLE to take his eyes off you! the usually calm and collected al-haitham forgets how to use the ability to speak for a brief second.

the moment you left the room in which you were getting ready as he was waiting outside, he almost gasped out loud

i mean literally, this man's brain stopped working for a second

you two were supposed to attend tighnari's birthday party, and while he didn't consider it a occasion to wear something elegant, you did the opposite

that's why he was left so speechless. because he was caught by surprise! he thought you would wear your casual clothes just as he did…

but it happened, you wore one of your favorite outfits for special occasions, and he was flabbergasted

of course it's not like your look was the only reason he has fallen for you! he was definitely considering it many times before this happened, but he was living in denial.

"no, i don't actually have feelings for them. they make me feel comfortable, i crave hearing their voice or laugh and i care about them a lot, but no, we're just friends" - probably al-haitham to himself at some point in his life.

but this time, he couldn't explain his feelings in any rational way known to man. you were so stunning that his eyes shined uncontrollably when he laid them on you. he was so busy studying your silhouette, your face and your hair that he didn't even hear your first question, which was:

"and? how do i look?" you asked, opening the door but still keeping your hands on the doorframe and leaning on it. you were slightly blushed because it was quite embarrassing to let him see you like this, but if you were to be honest, you were also a little bit excited to see his reaction

so when he didn't even answer you and remained indifferent on the outside, the slightly raised corners of your mouth drooped

you just weren't aware of what he's been experiencing on the inside…

because his heart started pounding a little bit faster and he was ashamed of it but on the other hand you looked gorgeous and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about what would he do if you were in relationship

(he had such a strong urge to kiss your hand like a gentleman for some reason)

"what? do i really look that bad?" you asked after you have swallowed the bitterness of your first impression

"sorry?" he said, blinking, your words drawing him out of his reverie, "did you say something?"

you snorted, annoyed by his behavior, assuming that he probably couldn't care less about your look at the moment, but at least he should try to pretend he does

but oh, how wrong you were…

when you repeated the question he only murmured something under his breath in response, so you decided to let him be

you noticed he got sweaty all of sudden, it was probably too hot for him inside, you thought, so you took the last things and you two left the house.

in reality, he wasn't feeling hot because of the temperature of course, but he was just as surprised by his own actions as you were. surprised in a slightly different way though….

cyno

talking with tighnari... he found all his confidence to talk to him about his possible feelings for you, that he could not recognize and tighnari was left speechless because of how innocent and lost in his feeling cyno looked

he was probably hanging out with tighnari someday, maybe they went out for a dinner, and somehow the topic of conversation has come down to you

for a long time he was hesitant to talk about his feeling towards you out loud but today he decided he'd try discussing it with his friend

because if not tighnari then who would be a suitable person? surely not you

also, don't think that he was aware of what he's feeling. HAHA, no. he would never

"what in your opinion y/n thinks of me…?" was his first question. he tried to choose the words carefully and say it in his normal tone but even a small sign of arousal in his voice was enough for tighnari to notice that something is up

"and why are you asking?" he wanted to make sure that his interpretation is right

"no reason in particular," his answer was quick, those words escaped his lips uncontrollably, so he had to add something "i just consider them a close friend and i want to know if they do too."

tignari almost started laughing out loud, but he controlled himself.

close friend? oh man, he is so clueless…

"are you sure that they are a "close friend?"" he was actually having some fun but at the same time he just wanted to smack himself on the forehead, he couldn't decide

"well, definitely not a "distant friend""

that's it, that's the moment when tighnari smacked his forehead

"i'll pretend i didn't hear that," he tried to be serious, but it wasn't easy. "listen, you look at them like they are your entire world. that's the kind of look people give to their lovers, not close friends!" he finally said it out loud

cyno had to blink twice to process what was just said.

he. in love. with you?

maybe? i mean, he always cared about your opinion about his jokes the most and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with you… but he thought that it's normal for friends to feel this way. and to steal glances at you person when you aren't looking, and to read every book you recommend him…

"you say so?" he finally asked, resting his chin on his hands "then maybe you're right," he admitted out loud

"FINALLY" tighnari couldn't hold it any longer… he was SO relieved that his friend won't be acting like he is running around in the fog anymore… right?

"and why are you so emotional about it?" cyno was genuinely confused (pls help this man he is often so clueless)

"because by now even collei knew"

xiao

when you kept coming back after all of his attempts to push you away. he wanted to protect you, protect you from him, because for a human it would be better to stay away from his karmic debt, right? but when you remained determined to get closer to him no matter how many times he tried to disencourage you, he slowly realized that maybe, just maybe he can let you get closer to his heart than he ever let anyone to be.

in his case, there wasn't any particular situation that made him realize his feelings, it was rather a complex and long process (not really a chokehold then but shh…)

he knew you for several months despite of his numerous attempts of cutting any ties he had with you

it was just that… you were stubborn. but not in a regular way, no. your stubbornness was much less invasive and annoying, and it manifested in your constant willingness to get closer to him

however, you never imposed yourself nor did you try convincing him! you were just visiting wangshu inn regularly, maybe tried striking up a conversation a few times, even just sitting in silence was enough for you

and because of all those actions he never felt overwhelmed by your presence! actually, after some time, he just got used to it and secretly started liking it

however, there was always this silent voice in the back of his head that he shouldn't be doing this and that he's forgetting himself

so definitely, when he slowly started thinking of you in that way at the very beginning he was IN SUCH A BIG DENIAL that it's almost unbelievable

alright, he admitted it to himself, but swore to N E V E R talk to anyone about it, especially and above all, to you.

he just decided to act as if those feelings didn't exist, that's all. and it went like that for quite a long time unfortunately… (at least you can be sure that he keeps his promises at all costs!!)

and after some time, when he was surprised that they didn't just go away, a certain thought crossed his mind…

he started thinking about what ifs and imagining what could happen if he theoretically decided to tell you about his feelings

(he spent another few months on that though)

at some point he just couldn't look at you without seeing you both holding hands in his mind or stand next to you without the urge to put his hand on your shoulder (of course only in private, he would never do pda…)

but still, his karmic debt…

he was so torn between those two thoughts (there were two wolves inside of him)

but as you expect, after months of his internal struggling, and your consistency in getting closer to him and encouraging him to open up, he let his feelings win for once in his long life

(take good care of him because he deserves it)

⌞⌑ cythiraeth - 23.11.2023. please, do not copy, claim as yours or share outside tumblr! ⌑⌝

#genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin scenarios #xiao x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno #genshin xiao #al haitam x reader

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forecast0ctopus · 2 months

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Any advice on drawing McCoy? I’m not used to drawing ancient wrinkley bastards (affectionate) and it’s surprisingly tough v-v

FOR SURE lmao i made. a diagram. just a warning that i am going to be irritating and long winded because u just hit a topic i really like sorry lmao

so first off i did some traces just to show whats there vs redraws to show my interpretation

ive said this on other asks but again jsyk, tracing isnt bad!! its a tool. theres some stuff with intellectual property and whatnot but using tracing to study shapes and forms is a really valuable practice.

also just taking some time to learn facial structures and anatomy is super useful, reading what bones and muscles are where and how they interact with one another. taking this info and staring in the mirror and moving your face around and thinking about it. just really furthers understanding of how the face works. trying to sound normal about this but i love anatomy and motion and physics and whatever

anyways im going to go through all the numbered points so there's no confusion. 1. forehead lines - self explanatory. more prominent when brows are raised 2. crows feet - at the outer corners of the eyes, more prominent when smiling or squinting 3. nasolabial folds - the folds that go from the corners of the nose to the corners of the mouth. more prominent when the mouth is wide, like smiling 4. brow furrow - self explanatory, most prominent when brows are furrowed. mccoy tends to have two right next to his eyebrows, kirk has one in the middle. everyones face works different lmao 5. chin crease - caused by how the chin and lower lip interact. 6. nasojugal groove - start from the inner corners of the eye and can extent over the cheeks. everyone has these and idk why people dont like them i think theyre really cool!!!! but Society. i guess. :/ 7. eye bags - caused by the skin sagging beneath the eyes. mccoy isnt even that old in tos i think hes meant to be mid 40s by the end of the 5 year mission, hes just got really prominent eye bags lmao 8. idk what the name is for these, but when the mouth is wide and pushes the skin to the sides, these folds sometimes form outside of the nasolabial folds 9. philtrum - the groove above the upper lip. i dont usually draw this but mccoy's struck me as prominent enough that i usually draw it on him 10. masseter - the muscle that moves the jaw up and down. its a pretty rugged muscle and while i wouldnt say mccoy's is especially prominent, it kind of extends that nasojugal groove from certain angles/positions 11. orbicularis oris - mouth muscle, usually easier to see when lips are pursed or frowns are pulled. mccoy's is pretty prominent from 3/4ths or side, his mouth tends to protrude in profile 12. this isnt a muscle but more of a line defining the planes of the face, but since i drew it i felt i should explain lmao

a few points:

im an animator i tend to exaggerate and emphasize certain things so i usually make him more square.

i like to combine eyebags and crows feet for brevity/flow, same with nasojugal grooves, eyebags, and masseter lines. my approach is always subject to change based on pose, expression, reference image, etc.

i take out details that i deem redundant or cluttering and keep what details i need to make things feel Right

all this info is applicable to any character of any age, its just in how you apply it and facial proportions that willl change how old a character is perceived to be

there's a lot more with drawing a Character rather than an Actor, just because the features are there doesnt necessarily mean things will feel correct? its very much in the mannerisms and poses and expressions

i only went over my approach to his likeness but not really body type or posing or anything idk if u want that i could always try to answer that later haha

_______________

anyways all that info kind of exists nebulously in my brain while i draw its not like im sitting there thinking Must Draw. Nasolabial Fold...... i jsut do what feels right with the visual info i have. also i love specificity in faces.... i dont like to be a hater but when every character is drawn the same it pisses me off a little lmao. so

also dont take my word as The Only Way to do anything i just draw how i like to draw and no one should feel like these are things that Must be done to be a good artist or anything do whatever the hell u wanna do

#anyways my apologies that was. a lot #it will happen again if asked of me.#anon #ask #everyone has this stuff going on with their face and its really cool but capitalism and the beauty industry and whatnot #have been rotting peoples brains since the moment they came to be #the more u look at and appreciate how ur skin an muscles and bones interact with one another the more fine u are with your own face #trust me #because its really cool. like mechanically and stuff #idk if its like theraputic or something but maybe it is or maybe i think about it all way too much #how i draw #ive got some other similar things under that tag i think pertaining to merlin but still similar info

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billiedeansbitch · 2 months

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𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭��𝐥𝐞 (𝐬𝐟𝐰)

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Note: this one's been sitting in my drafts for so long now I don't actually remember anymore what was going to be ending because I left it like halfway but uh, I stirred my brain for something and came up with some angsty shit you're welcome. (And it's smut free! Yay!)

Warning/s: grief and loss.

You pushed your chair gently as possible but you were tired, exhausted and drained, so it scraped the floor, the sound scratching your ears. You winced and muttered an apology half-heartedly for the noise. You felt her gaze lift from her plate to look at you. “Are you done?” she asked, still watching you. You hummed and nodded, bringing your plate to the sink. Words ceased to exist after that.

When you returned to the kitchen table she was done as well. You watched her pick up her plate and deposit it to the sink, you helped her around cleaning the kitchen, both of you moving in silence and keeping your way out of each other but as you wiped away the table and she was tucking the chairs back in, you felt her warmth against you.

You didn’t look or react. Keeping it all in a tight lid jar. You resume to wipe the table until the faint marks disappear to your heart’s content. She didn’t say anything either. She was first to withdraw, though her hand fleetingly brushed the small of your back and you turned. You turned to look at her, you couldn’t resist the temptation nor you had the will to just ignore it.

That at least you let yourself to devour. And despite the constant arguments these days, you still couldn’t wait for the moment where your eyes met.

Your heart was hammering against your chest. You felt as though you were about to faint, there was sadness in her eyes, nervously fidgeting with the ring on her finger. “I’ll be in the study if you need me.”

You gave her a nod. You saw her eyes slowly falter from looking at you down to her feet, ashamed. “Wait” you wanted to say however your lips remained pressed together. She left, taking small steps to slow down, waiting, still waiting for you to say something and silently hoping but you didn’t until she was closing the door of her study and paused, just thinking, she should leave it half opened remembering how you always stick your head in just to check for her. The fond and bittersweet memory rendered her helpless from all the guilt.

It was a little later, maybe past ten o’clock when you abruptly awoke to the sound of shuffling, the vague noises from the television stopped, the room was dim without the vibrant colours from the screen. “You fell asleep,” the voice said, unsurprised, it knew…she knew and she paused whatever she was doing in her study to check on you.

You hummed, rubbing the sleep off of your eyes. You felt her hand on your shoulder, silently asking you to get up. You had half a mind to hold her hand right there, to savour the feeling of her touch and kiss it. Kiss all the pain away. But you decided against it, afraid it would be too much. So you stood up.

It felt cold–your hands, you looked at them, and they were empty. So lonely and empty. It broke your heart. You wanted to hold her hand but she was so far away, walking in front of you.

When was it going to end?

She called your name softly as you unconsciously sank deeper into the abyss of your unending thoughts. Your name, not my darling, my sweetheart, or my love. Once more, your heart broke. You miss it, the way she would affectionately call you names, drawing the biggest grin on your lips and you would leap into her arms, burying your face into her neck. You miss her.

“Yes?” you looked up to see her undoing the pins in her hair, her blouse was half open and untucked from her skirt. It reminded you of the bliss as you two ran around the house, going after each other barely having any clothes on and giggling like girls once you cornered her–you knew for a fact she let you and not because you were swift and strong enough to pin a 6’3” woman with a body mass twice as yours were–and then you’d kiss her and she’d kiss you back, both breathless in the end with smiles on your faces.

She asked if the set of pyjamas she laid for you on the bed were to your liking. Your cheeks warmed, and you told her it was perfect. Little by little, you reminded yourself, everything would be better.

You sucked in a breath, fingers automatically unzipping your dress from the back but getting stuck halfway. It was little inconveniences like this one that really felt like the last straw after a particularly having a bad day that struck a nerve, “The fuck is your problem!” you muttered, trying to pull the tab down but it won’t slide.

Larissa saw you getting upset over it. It was one of your downsides—getting easily frustrated over the most mundane things when you couldn’t do it right the first time—she interfered, tapping on your shoulder and telling you to turn around before your head could explode in anger.

She smoothly pulled it all the way down, her eyes following the path of skin it revealed, she longed to feel you with her lips.

Larissa stayed there for a moment, unable to retract herself from you. She thought that maybe if she kept herself close to you, like this, her sadness would melt away, that her longing for you would shrink even just by an inch. Her arms ached to hold you. She wanted to kiss you. Fill you in with so many kisses until you decided it was enough. She missed you.

And you missed her so much—that, perhaps, was actually your last straw. You broke down, tears spilling from your eyes that you tried so badly to conceal with your hands on your face. The little sobs came, the shaking of your breath and light twitches of your shoulders.

She pulled you in her arms, gently giving you time to resist. You showed none and willingly buried your face on her chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” the words repeated again and again, broken in between with sobs and sharp intake of breaths.

“I’m sorry we lost the baby.”

It stung like a freshly cut wound for Larissa. She never blamed you, she never breathed out a word about the loss of your child, not a single one. She sat in this awful gown after the procedure was done, unblinking. Not a twitch of emotion or a tear. She somehow turned cold and completely shut the world down. It all changed, she changed.

And she blamed herself.

Every time she’d see your face she was reminded of how hopeful you were, how full of life and physically vibrating with happiness when you found out she was pregnant. She should have waited for at least a month to tell you Incase this didn’t work out like the others but she had a feeling. She had this hope, something she didn’t feel before so she told you and it felt so fucking stupid of her.

“We could try again,” you said, kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in her lap, “He’ll answer our prayers. He will. I know he will.” But she had had enough of it, she no longer believed.

“Larissa, please say something. Tell me anything.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done.” she wiped the lone tear from her cheek, and stood up. It hadn’t been a week since she was released from the hospital, her body had not recovered from the loss. It still felt like it was there–the little flutter. It was making her insane.

“Where are you going?”

"To work. I'm not going to sit around crying all day. I told you I'm done."

That day, it felt like you lost her more than anything.

She pushed you away and you let her. Now you danced around each other, with intensified longing behind your eyes, your fingers twitching to touch, craving to reignite the fading memories of what you two once were.

She held you tight against her, giving into the needs of her body, of her soul. She let herself heal as the warmth engulfed the dead parts of her.

Little by little, she hoped it would get better.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems imagine #gwendoline christie imagines #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie #billiedeansbitc

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just-jordie-things · 1 year

Text

love, death, and curses - toge inumaki

word count: 6k warnings: swearing, gore, stabbing summary: near death experiences make people confess the funniest things ___

A simple assignment. It’s always the simple assignments that go horribly wrong, isn’t it? It must be some sick joke. Why couldn’t things just go right for once? A break would be nice… but there were no breaks in this line of work.

“Fuck!”

(y/n) dropped herself to the ground before the four-eyed curse throwing itself at her could actually hit her. With no time to catch her breath, she threw herself back, pulled the ring knife out of the holster on her thigh, and even with her hazy sight she was able to fling the small weapon into it’s skull.

Nope, no breaks. Just knives and evil spirits.

“Tuna!”

Toge’s worried voice carried from some twenty feet away, or wherever he was taking on more grade threes’ than he probably should have, but even as (y/n) tried to make her way to help him, it just seemed more spirits were spawning.

“I’m fine!” She hollered back.

With a kick to the curse’s disappearing body, it rolled over and she was able to retrieve her knife. Just in the knick of time as three more curses approached.

This wasn’t looking good.

And things had been so nice this morning. ___

~ earlier that day ~

“Mustard leaf”

Finger stalling on the line in the book she was reading, (y/n) glanced behind her, a smile blossoming on her face as her favorite cursed speech user approached.

She’d been studying in the common room all morning, and it was about time some better entertainment rolled around. And with a cute language and cuter face, here it was.

“Hey,” She greeted him back, and moved over on the couch so there was room for him to sit. “You here to save me from my studying?”

From the crinkles around his eyes, she knew he was grinning as he plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Salmon” He chuckled to himself.

Truth was, he’d been working himself up all morning trying to find a way to ask (y/n) out, to a movie or dinner or anything she wanted to do at all. He’s been trying to do it for a while, but it’s hard when you can’t exactly just say the words.

(That was kind of a copout, there was always writing on the post-its he kept in his pocket, or taking her hand and staring deep into her eyes, but he wasn’t exactly the most experienced when it came to these things, and he really wanted to sweep her off her feet)

So now here he was, blushing like crazy under his collar, his hands fidgeting together, with about fifteen crumpled up post-its in his jacket pocket with everything he’d had prepared for this moment.

And this was the moment. He’d decided. He didn’t want to put it off any longer, and he’d told himself all morning that no matter what, he was going to ask her out!

(Panda was a big help too, but he was trying to not think about him right now)

“You alright?” (y/n) asked, drawing Toge out of his scrambling brain.

His brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re just quieter than usual,” She explained, laughing a bit. “Usually you’re talking my ear off. Remember at the market, that lady thought you were yelling at me about how to make rice balls?”

She laughs more at the memory, and it was a funny one, but Toge can only bring himself to force out a few chuckles.

“So what is it then?” She asks, closing her textbook and tossing it onto the coffee table so that he could have her attention.

Admittedly, he’d already had her attention as soon as he’d walked into the room. He always did. It didn’t matter what was in front of her, if Toge appeared, she was a goner.

(One time she was waxing Maki’s eyebrows when Toge appeared. Maki still hasn’t forgiven her for taking half of the left one. ��Even after it grew back)

He shakes his head, mumbling a ‘salmon’, which (y/n) assumes was meant to assure her he was alright, but it wasn’t all that convincing.

“Toge…” (y/n) said softly, turning her body sideways on the cushion to give him more of her attention. “I think I know what this is about…”

His eyes go wide.

Did she? Was he so transparent? Had he been embarrassing himself this whole time?

“Yuuta hasn’t written in a while,” She sighed.

Oh. Right. That guy.

(Yuuta was one of Toge’s closest friends, but he hadn’t been anywhere close to present in his mind currently)

“I miss him too. But he’s probably just busy, it’s a pretty serious assignment you know,”

Toge’s frozen for a moment, processing her assumption. Unfortunately, (y/n) took his silence for sadness, and she continued on.

“I know that he thinks about us all the time though,” She said cheerfully, before shoving her elbow into his side. “But who wouldn’t, right?”

The teasing is friendly, and normally he’d laugh and joke along happily. But his nerves are eating him up inside and he feels really hot- was it hot in here? The common room was known for having a busted ac unit that always had a breeze in the room, and now here he was sweating.

“He’ll write soon enough. Probably with some crazy story. It’s always something weird with him” (y/n) says. She’s so reassuring and kind. If only this was advice he was actually looking for.

With a small, defeated sigh, Toge nods his head.

And not too long after, Gojo bursts into the room, excited to have found the pair, and claiming he had a quick assignment for them. Leaving no good time for asking someone on a date, Toge mentally cursed his sensei for his notorious bad timing. ___

~ present ~

Things weren’t getting any easier, and (y/n) was starting to think Fushiguro was onto something for being so cranky about Gojo’s nonchalant attitude, because in no way was this assignment simple.

I’m gonna give that man a piece of my mind if I make it out of this alive.

Ring daggers could only be so good of a weapon. Right now a sword would be more practical, like Yuuta’s katana. Or better hand to hand skills, like Maki. Hell, being a 6’7 bear would be more of a help than what she had on hand.

And she loved her ring daggers, she trained with them relentlessly. But one of the four she had on her was already gone, disappeared with a curse carcass that disintegrated faster than expected. She’d have to get better used to another weapon, because this was just getting frustrating.

Another knife flew through the air with such speed she was certain it’d hit her target.

But the particular four eyed- curse’s head she’d aimed for swerved, and the dagger whizzed right past it, before clattering to the ground, far out of reach.

(y/n) grimaced. No way some grade two curse was able to dodge a swift attack like that.

This was no grade two.

Realization dawned on her, eyes widening as she quickly glanced around her, noticing how all the other curses they’d been fighting seemed to form a circle around this one.

They were protecting it? Hive mind? On their own accord?

Her train of thought ran a million miles a minute trying to find the answer to this behavior, but as quickly as she was trying to solve this odd mystery, she heard a yelp of surprise, and the sound of Toge’s struggle destroyed her worry about anything else but him.

“Toge!” She screeched, watching him get thrown back a few feet. His landing wasn’t all that graceful, but he pushed himself back up to his feet without too much struggle.

“Salmon!” He hollered back before even catching his breath.

He couldn’t have (y/n) looking over her shoulder for him. There were too many of these damn things, and she needed to focus on herself, not him.

“Look!” (y/n) called to him, pointing to the odd curse that had dodged her knife. “I think that one’s in charge or something!”

Violet eyes follow her gesture, and just as quickly as she had, he notices the strange pattern in which most of the curses surround the one. He nods back at her, understanding what she was telling him.

Well, at least he thought he understood. He didn’t think she’d charge after the damn thing to take it on herself.

And yet before he could blink, she was grabbing her last two daggers out of their sheaths, and breaking into a sprint towards the curse without a second longer of hesitation.

He caught himself before he could call after her to wait. However, just as he was about to make his way over to help her, it seemed a horde of the four-eyed nuisances were crowding before him.

He allowed himself a mutter of curses under his breath before unzipping his collar to take care of them.

Meanwhile (y/n) was confidently approaching the little ringleader. At this point, she was taking this thing down no matter what it took.

It was agile, and able to elude more of her attacks than any grade two could. In fact, she had her assumptions that it could have been a grade one, if it were this strong and also powerful enough to gather other curses to protect it.

And after a tiring bout of slashing towards it only for it to duck and dodge, she was starting to think that it was mocking her. And this made her agitated.

And angry.

She’d trained for many years to perfect the craft of exorcizing curses. Sure, there were always new things to learn, but she considered herself pretty damn good at what she did, because she stuck to a few simple rules.

And her number one rule was to stay sharp. The better an eye is at inspecting an environment, the less likely a surprise can happen. So emotions like fear and anger were red flags.

So she should have seen it coming.

But in an instant, the knife she had gripped in hand and plummeting towards the space between all four of the curse’s eyes, was swiped right out from her hold.

With one hand the curse had taken her wrist, halting her attack. Then it took advantage of her shock to steal her weapon.

After that, everything seemed to blur together.

A really sharp pain in her abdomen.

That hurt.

Warmth, then heat, pooling over her skin.

Wet?

Blood?

Almost in slow motion, she looked down.

Her own knife. In the hand of a curse. Buried in her guts.

It seemed surreal, in the most horrific way possible. In what world she thought her death would come from her own negligence- her own weapon damn it! Her anger was only set aflame. With self preservation and fury colliding in her bones, she found herself acting without thought.

As Toge was trying to fight through the raw pain in his sore throat, he was contemplating a bit of hand to hand until he could spare a second to chug down his medicine and obliterate what was left of the curses. He didn’t want to risk rushing it and losing what little medicine he had left.

The answer came to him before he could do anything, and right before his eyes, the curses he’d been fighting off started to disappear.

At first he was on guard, surprised, confused. But as the area around him began to clear and he saw the curse (y/n) had been fighting with was crumpled to the ground, a knife in the middle of it’s face, it clicked.

He chugged down the rest of his medicine before jogging over to her.

It’s over.

(y/n) fought to keep her eyes open, and to keep her hand covering the wound in her abdomen. At least the fabric of her shirt was black, so the blood wasn’t so visible.

“Mustard leaf!”

Fighting to keep her vision straight, (y/n) could barely make out the double Toge heading towards her.

Toge.

“Mustard leaf!” He called out again when she hadn’t responded, worried she’d hit her head or something.

He can’t know.

She pressed her palm harder into her stomach, biting down on her cheek to keep from groaning aloud.

As Toge approached, he was clapping, cheering for her.

He was so sweet.

“Salmon roe!”

He was grinning from ear to ear, she could just barely make it out, but it made her feel warm that he was so proud of her.

Or maybe that was all the blood spilling over her hand.

She stumbled forward towards him, and he abandoned his excitement and was reaching out to steady her instantly.

With furrowed brows he waited for her to explain, to tell him what hurt, or to tell him she’d be okay. But she didn’t say anything.

In fact, she could barely keep eye contact with him, her gaze kept shifting around, as though she didn’t have control over it.

“Mustard leaf?” He asked, concerned, his eyes flickering between hers, hoping to catch her attention.

“I-” Her voice got caught in her throat, and she coughed to try to cover for herself, but from what she could make out from Toge’s expression, she wasn’t doing well. “I’m f-fine, I’m okay” She forced the words out with as little a stammer as possible.

Toge wasn’t believing it.

“Bonito flakes”

His voice was harsh. He was upset.

Normally (y/n) was comfortable voicing when she had an injury. They both were. They always reassured each other they were okay after missions. Especially particularly difficult ones. So for her to be blatantly lying irked him.

But without the ability to say anything else, all he could do was glare and grumble while he pulled out his phone to get Ijichi the ‘ready for pickup’ text.

The haze in (y/n’s) was turning to dark. Like black clouds.

I’m going to die.

She blinked a few times, trying to focus her vision well enough to keep herself upright at least.

Am I swaying? I feel like I’m not standing upright.

That awful slow-motion feeling came back as she lowered her head to focus on her feet, just to make sure they were both planted on the ground.

Before she could even notice her feet, her eyes landed on her blood covered hand, and suddenly a wave of nausea hit her.

“T-Toge,” She stuttered out, clutching her hand tighter to her stomach, and forcing herself to look up at him. “I-I’m sorry,”

Her voice broke into a whimper, effectively washing away any annoyance Toge had been feeling, and now he was worried immensely.

He shook his head in confusion, silently asking her what was going on.

“I…” She trailed off, her head going light. “I can barely keep my eyes open”

She was losing feeling in her legs completely now.

“Mustard leaf?” He asked, reaching his hands out to her shoulders, steadying the slight swaying she was starting to do.

And then she stumbled forward, falling almost completely against him.

“Mustard leaf!?” He asked a little louder, hoping she would be able to tell him what was going on.

But as he secured his arms around her, he felt something on his hand.

Something warm.

And wet.

No.

“Mustard leaf?”

That time, the question came out a lot smaller. Quieter.

Shakily, he brought his hand out, confirming his fear when he saw the blood.

“It’s- it’s okay,” (y/n) stammered, lifting her heavy head from his shoulder.

But Toge was already looking her over for the source of the blood.

“It’s just a little scratch-”

“Bonito flakes!”

Prying her hand away from her abdomen, it was like he was living a nightmare.

Her hand was stained in red, and from the looks of the hole in her shirt, this wasn’t even a scratch.

He wants to scold her, cuss her out for hiding an injury like this from him. He wants to comfort her, tell her she’ll be okay and he’d take care of her now and do whatever was needed to fix her up.

Even if he was able to speak, he wouldn’t have been able to. His throat closed up and hot tears rose to his eyes so fast, anything that came out would have been a stuttered, blubbering mess.

“I didn’t-” (y/n) coughed, and he tried his best to wipe the blood from her lips, but she swatted his hand away. “Listen,”

Her half-lidded eyes met his, and she hoped he’d just shut up so she could say what she needed to. She didn’t know when she’d pass out, but she knew it was coming.

“I… I j-just didn’t want t-to h-hurt you,” Her words are a bit slur and she can’t fight that stutter very well but he catches on to every word. “I’m s-sorry,”

He shakes his head.

Don’t be sorry, he means, and he hopes she understands.

“I’m so, so sorry,” (y/n) repeats, her voice growing weaker, softer.

She grows a little heavier in his hold, and carefully, he lowers them, hoping to help save her energy. He’s torn between holding her tightly, in an iron grip where nothing could ever hurt her again- or barely touching her, she was too delicate right now, he couldn’t bear to cause her any more pain.

As he cradles her in his lap with one arm, his other hand putting as much pressure on her wound as he could manage, he’s feverishly looking around, cursing silently that Ijichi’s car hasn’t rolled up yet.

What part of ‘EMERGENCY (Y/N) GOT HURT AND NEEDS SHOKO NOW’ wasn’t understood? He should have been here seconds after that text was delivered.

Glancing back down at (y/n), the situation wasn’t looking good.

Her eyes had fallen closed, her head lolled against his arm weakly, and the pants coming from her mouth grew fainter. His panic was worsening.

How could this happen? How could he let this happen? He was a terrible partner, and friend. He was never going to forgive himself for this.

He patted her cheek gently, trying to stir her into consciousness for just a little longer.

(y/n) whimpered, her eyelids fluttering briefly, but she refused to open them.

If only he could say something, beg her to stay awake for just a minute longer. Ijichi would be here soon-

“Toge,”

It was a mumble, but it was something.

He smoothed his trembling hand over her cheek, staring at her intently, and impatiently.

“You sh-should know,” She continued.

It took a tremendous effort to roll her head so she could look up at him.

If I’m going to die, I might as well suck it up and tell him I love him.

A shiver ran through her body, and Toge scrambled to get his jacket off, draping it over top of her, making sure to tuck the fabric around her shoulders so she was as comfortable as could be.

Even in her declining state of mind, she noticed a few things.

First, his collar was off. Usually whenever he wasn’t wearing his face covering, she couldn’t help but smile and blush like a little girl with a crush. He had the most handsome face, she simply had to admire him for his beauty.

Second, his hands were trembling incredibly hard. She could see it as he tucked her into his coat, and she could feel it as well. He was scared for her life. Hell, she was too, but seeing him become this much of a wreck was starting to make this all too real for her.

And third, her pain was starting to go away. At first she was relieved, but she’s realized now that it’s been replaced with a numbness, across her entire body. That wasn’t a good sign.

I can’t possibly tell him how I feel, and then die in his arms. It wouldn’t be right.

So instead, she just stared at him. His violet eyes were so round, and filled with fear. She wished that she had the words to actually comfort her, but she knew that there was nothing she could say that he would believe.

He shakes his head a little, his brows furrowing even deeper. She knows that if he could speak he would be telling her to spit it out already.

“You’re beautiful,” She murmurs.

The knot in his brow softened into a more confused look, and it only made her smile.

Oh no. She’s smiling. This can’t be good.

“You’re the m-most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” She goes on, her murmurs turning into lovesick babbles. “I n-never told you… I was too nervous I g-guess. But I should have told you,”

He starts to shake his head again, but her small smile only blossoms into a toothy grin. It would be off putting with the blood stained on her lips, but he has to admit even now, something in him just melts.

“You’re my favorite person, okay?”

It takes everything she has to keep her eyes open, to stare at him and try to convey every last feeling she has towards him.

For a moment he just stares back at her, his mouth moving a bit but no words were coming out.

And then slowly, he nods his head at her.

He wants to keep fighting, to keep smacking her until her eyes stay open, to keep shaking his head at her because he can’t scream for her to just please stay awake.

It’s dawning on him now, how quickly time is ticking, and the last thing either of them need is more panic.

So he tries to calm himself, for her sake.

But her eyes are closing again, and he can see the rise and fall in her chest is slowing, until it’s barely moving at all.

By the time the car pulls up and Ijichi is hopping out and running over to them, Toge hadn’t gotten her to open her eyes once. ___

Fuck it was bright.

(y/n) winced as she slowly blinked her eyes open, trying to get used to the blinding white shining on her. With a groan she raised her hand to her face, rubbing her already strained eyes.

“Oh, you’re up earlier than I thought”

Dragging her palm down her face, (y/n) squinted to see Shoko smiling down at her, clipboard in hand.

“I’m not dead?”

“Not this time,” The doctor jests, smirking to herself. “Gave us a scare though. Especially Inumaki”

Toge.

“Where is-?”

“I’ll let him know you’re up in a minute, don’t worry. First, can you tell me what all you remember?”

“Yeah, I got stabbed with my own knife. Then I almost died. And now I’m alive and embarrassed and I will never hear the end of it. Actually… could you do me a favor-?”

“I’m not killing you. Sorry, kid”

“Shit”

Shoko chuckled to herself.

“I guess I can check off alert and snarky,” She teases, before setting her board down. “Any pain? Nausea?”

“Just absolute delight to be here” (y/n) teases back.

Shoko’s smiling, which is a bit of a rare sight, but (y/n’s) more familiar with it than her peers.

“As always,” Shoko hums. “Well, let me find your boyfriend. Try not to strain yourself before then, alright?”

“No promises” (y/n) muttered back.

With that, the doctor was strutting out of the room. From the way the left side of her lab coat sagged a little heavier than the right, she figured she had some extra time to herself. Ten minutes if she smoked alone, twenty five if Gojo happened to catch up with her.

Settling back into her cot, she shut her eyes and sighed.

I should have asked her to shut the lights off before she left.

She sat up again, trying to find something to put over her eyes to keep the LED’s from piercing right through her eyelids. Unfortunately the thin cotton blanket she had wasn’t large enough to cover her head to toe, and she wasn’t ready to give up her pillow- the only comfortable thing about this dumb cot- so that left her back at square one.

It was then that she realized she was wearing an extra layer. Puzzled, she inspected the jacket that clearly wasn’t hers.

Did Shoko give her this when she showed up?

Curiously, she dipped her hands into the pockets. She wasn’t sure what drove her to do such a thing, but sure enough she found something.

Post-its. A bunch of folded and crumpled post-its.

Oh, this is Toge’s jacket!

She felt her face get warm as she smiled, and piled them up in her lap. These must have been all the notes he wrote to better communicate with people throughout his day.

But after unfolding the first one, she wasn’t so sure what these notes were. Scribbled there in Toge’s distinct handwriting, was without a doubt a love note.

You’re so beautiful no matter what you wear or do with your hair. It’s mostly because of your personality, but your eyes take some of the blame too.

She had to admit, she was pretty shocked. She didn’t think Toge was the type to have a romantic side, but clearly he’s got a knack for it.

Now all that was left to figure out was who these little love notes were meant to be delivered to.

And hell, there was no other entertainment in this boring, bright room. So why not indulge in a little snooping?

Eagerly, she uncrumpled the next one.

I’m sorry I can’t speak well to you, but I’m glad I can still laugh, because you make me laugh every time I’m with you. And sometimes you’re funny too! :)

(y/n) snorted before rolling her eyes. Alright, he must have had some help from Panda. She reached for the next note.

You tell me all the time how brave I am and now here I am pouring it all out there. I wish I could tell you myself instead of writing all these notes.

A few of the notes didn��t even have words, just doodles, but they were just as cute. She especially loved the one of two turtles holding hands. Well, stubs. He drew their little stubs touching with a heart over them.

It wasn’t meant for her, but she decided she’d have to steal that one for herself. It was just too cute.

“Tuna!”

Dropping the post-its, (y/n’s) head shot up to the doorway where her visitor was standing. She looked like a deer caught in headlights- which she was, he’d literally just caught her reading through his private notes.

“Toge!” She squeaked, embarrassed, but there was still a smile on her face, eager to see him as always.

She can’t see it because he has his collar zipped up, but his face was red with bashfulness.

How many of those notes had she read? Did she know they were for her? Dummy! Of course she did! It was so obvious! Idiot! Why did I even keep those in there when I gave her that jacket!?

“I’m so glad you’re here” She told him, beckoning him to come into the room.

Some of his nerves were settled as he took a few steps closer. Maybe she hadn’t put together that the notes were for her?

“Mustard leaf?” He asked, gesturing to her stomach, which she kept covered with her blanket.

“Oh, it’s fine,” (y/n) shrugged a shoulder.

After finding the notes, she’d kind of forgotten about it actually. Surely once her pain meds wore off she’d be irritable and reliving the worst pain she’s ever felt in her whole life- but for now she didn’t care, and she’d rather focus on something more enticing.

And nothing was more enticing than love notes to a mystery person.

“Tell me about these!” She told him, excitedly holding up the few notes that she’d read.

Toge’s eyes widened for a moment, before he decidedly shook his head back and forth.

(y/n) frowned.

“Bonito flakes” Toge explained to the best of his ability, pointing again to her blanket.

“Really, it’s fine, I can’t feel a thing right now,” (y/n) said nonchalantly. “I’d rather just be normal? Please?” She gave him her best puppy dog eyes and held the notes up to him.

Toge sighed, staring back at her, giving up on trying to voice his concerns. When all he could voice were rice ball ingredients, it was hard to be convincing sometimes.

But even giving her the deadest eyes he could manage wasn’t working. And he was no match for puppy dog eyes.

(It was truly a weakness- and not just (y/n). If anyone gave him that face, odds were he was caving in on whatever ridiculous thing they were requesting. Panda abused this knowledge frequently)

He groaned and rolled his eyes, making (y/n) grin and cheer.

“Ok so tell me! Who are these for? Do they go here??”

She shuffles to sit upright on her cot, making Toge panic momentarily, because no way should she be moving this much after she was just stabbed. She was still healing damnit!

He reaches his hands out, shaking his head as he grabs her shoulders to keep her in place, but she swats his hands away.

“Relax, just sit” She demands, patting the open space she’s made for him.

Toge glares at her.

“Bonito flakes”

“Stop saying that and just sit,” (y/n) requests again. “Or I’ll walk out of this room and find Panda and make him tell me who these are-”

His groan is louder this time, more annoyed, before he shoves his finger in her face.

(y/n’s) brows knit together.

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes.

His finger points rather aggressively to the notes in her lap, before pointing at her again.

How much clearer could he be? Was he going to have to spell it out for her?

“Yeah… I found them in your pockets-”

Toge smacked his hand to his head.

Man, he loved her. But this was a whole different level of cluelessness.

He’d have to find another way to tell her. So he went sifting through the mess of post-its. Surely there’d be a note in there that explained his feelings to her.

(y/n) watched him curiously, not quite sure what he was doing, but she had to admit she was a little entertained by his annoyed scrambling. It was cute to get him worked up, and he didn’t do it often, so it was also a treat.

Finally, he produced the perfect note, and handed it to her. (y/n) raised a brow at him before she took it.

This note wasn’t like the others. It was a direct question, clearly meant to be used to communicate with, not just a cute message or doodle.

(y/n), I’ve liked you for a really long time, and you’re a great friend. But I think we would be great as something more. Would you want to go on a date with me?

Her eyes widened as she re-read the note a few times, scanning it as if it were going to say something else after ten more reads. But sure enough, it had her name, and he was asking her out.

He was asking her out!!

“Oh my god,” She mumbled, mostly to herself but Toge heard it anyway. “I’m an idiot,”

Glancing up at him, she caught his nodding, and smacked his arm.

“But you’re a bigger idiot!” She chastised. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugged his shoulders. There were few instances where he was lucky to not have to explain himself.

Like right now, he didn’t have to sit here and tell her he was too scared of rejection to tell her how he really felt about her. That would be humiliating. Instead, he gets to stand there and just smile at her.

“Well, you’re in luck. I like you too,” (y/n) replies, giving him a smile. “I didn’t know that you felt this way,”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“So romantic,” She chuckles, rolling her eyes at him. “So what kind of date do you have planned?”

He reaches for one of the post-its, flipping it over and grabbing one of Shoko’s pens. (y/n) waits while he quickly scribbles on the paper.

Movie?

(y/n) grins as she reads it, nodding her head in agreement.

“How about dinner too?” She asks, her cheeks starting to tinge with pink.

Toge nods excitedly.

“Okay, perfect. It’s a date then,” (y/n) grins back. The elation of this moment was definitely going to last until her pain wore off. “You know it’s funny, I was actually going to confess last night,”

Toge rose a brow, before whistling, making her giggle.

“Oh shut up. I only didn’t because… you know. If I had…”

Finally, Toge perches himself on the side of the cot beside her. He unzips his collar before reaching out to take hold of her hand. (y/n) smiles softly at the sweet gesture. She admired him very much for the way he was able to convey exactly what he wanted to say.

“I just didn’t want to drop a bomb on you and then… die. It didn’t seem right, and I wanted the right time to tell you, you know that I… I love you”

His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. Brows raised and mouth slightly parted. He was shocked. (y/n’s) pink cheeks deepened to a bright red, and she could feel the heat spreading to her neck as well.

All at once, it hits Toge, and his hands sprung to action.

You love me? He signs.

“Well, yeah,” She answers. “I was trying not to die in front of you, doesn’t that make it kind of obvious?”

He shakes his head at her, a smile beginning to break out across his face.

He holds his hand up, sticking out his thumb, index finger, and pinky.

(y/n) may have been a bit rusty when it came to sign language, but she knew what that one meant.

She reached out, taking his hand and tugging gently, prompting him to lean closer.

Brows furrowed, Toge followed the silent command, turning his head with the expectation that she was going to say something softly in his ear.

With a hum, (y/n’s) free hand finds his cheek, directing him to face her again, before guiding him down closer so that she could plant her lips on his.

For a moment, he hesitates. His eyes go wide and it feels like his whole body is frozen. He wonders briefly if this is what his opponents felt when he used his cursed speech to stop them in place.

It’s like all time as he knows it comes to a halt.

And then, slowly but surely, he melts into the sensation.

Her lips, soft and sweet like the chapstick Shoko always keeps around, were warm, and familiar. As though he’d kissed them countless times before. His hands find their natural place at her jaw, keeping her in place so he can be sure to kiss her again and again.

The feeling of the corners of her mouth tilting upwards was sensational, and Toge finds himself smiling into the kiss as well. The pair silently acknowledged that now was as good a time as any to finally come together.

When time starts again and works against them, forcing them to break apart for air, their smiles were ever so present. Paired with pink cheeks and shy eyes that could barely maintain contact.

“I’m going to have to learn sign language for kiss me, huh?” (y/n) teases quietly.

Toge beams, before happily showing her the motion. He brings his fingers to his thumb, then traced his mouth to his cheekbone. The phrase is finished with pointing to himself.

“Well, if you insist” (y/n) giggles, before yanking on him again so she can reach him once more.

Their laughter is interrupted as their lips meet once more, and this time Toge thinks he might never come back up for air. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki toge imagine #inumaki toge scenario #toge x reader #toge imagine #toge scenario #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki imagine #toge inumaki scenario

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luxurychristmaspudding · 14 days

Text

Sedated | Dave York x f!Reader

gif from @iamasaddie

summary: you and dave are no strangers to this business, to death. so there can be no harm in relying on each other in times of need.

pairing: dave york x f!contract killer!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. divorced!dave. knife play, breath play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie. descriptions/mention of blood and injury. vibes are kinda weird idk

wc: 2.5k

an: this fic is a part of @wannab-urs hozier drabble challenge (although, alas, it is not a drabble). head to gin’s page for more!

Just a little rush, babe, to feel dizzy

To derail the mind of me

Just a little hush, babe, my veins are busy

But my heart's in atrophy

~ sedated, hozier

The only sounds in the bathroom are the dripping of the tap into the tepid water of the sink and the scrape of the razor across Dave’s stubble.

He sits, back straight, on the closed toilet - shirtless, in only his sweatpants, large hands hooked beneath your thighs as you straddle him, your body rocked back to find the perfect angle to shave him at.

He watches you with hooded eyes as you draw the razor over his skin, stretching it taught where you need to be careful, gliding it over the plain of his throat. He feels like he’s barely breathed the whole time, not a word being said between the two of you. But this is routine now.

The quiet moments after a contract, nights where one follows the other, no matter where you had come from, no matter where you were staying. This half-tender care, so different from anything he’s experienced before - the bravado and camaraderie, or the mute mission of patching himself up, clotting his own wounds.

It must have been a serious kind of injury to draw you into each other, but when he tries to, Dave can’t remember. Something that needed to be patched up by someone else, too much blood making your own fingers slip, too deep for yourself to plug. Sometimes, it’s difficult to remember a time before you were here - before you found each other. The nebulous, shrouded years that seem to expand well beyond their perimeters. They should stop before reaching too far back into Carol and the girls, but they linger over even those happier times, back and back until it feels as though every year of his existence has been shrouded in darkness.

Those months after the divorce, after Mac, all spent feeling outside of his life until you had shown up, until you had proved a constant in the fucked up world he found himself in. And despite the nature of the person he has become now, there’s still a desperate, warm little part of him that wants you out - wants to drag you away from it. Wants you far away from this, from him, wants you unharmed and safe in the world that Carol and his daughters inhabit.

Wishful thinking - and it’s an awful thought to consider where being without you would leave him.

Lost, even more so than he already is. You do not make the darkness brighter, do not make it easier to see. But you hold your hand out to him, tell him in not as many words - I feel it, too.

This does not scare you the way it should.

He knows you now, in the way only someone like he can. Has seen what little fear you have. Has watched you push bullets through flesh, through brains, so the body matter spreads and splatters where it must. Has witnessed the plunge of a jagged blade into a stomach, watched you rip upwards, slash and maim with precision. It gives him a thrill, a dark satisfaction to witness a job so well done.

You continue your gliding movements, breathing steady, gaze focused, while Dave studies your face. The depth and glitter of your eyes in the half light, the crook and curve of your nose, the bow and twitch of your lips. You know he’s doing it; always do. You tilt his head with a palm on the side of his neck, using your other to hold the blade of his razor tight to the thrumming artery on the opposite side for a second too long. His dark eyes find yours, pouty lips posing an unvoiced question. You ask another.

‘Do you ever think about how easy it would be?’

Dave says nothing, unable to move his mouth as you use your thumb to press the razor into the soft underside of his jaw. You use enough pressure for his heart rate to spike before you scrape away the hairs there like you’re carving wood, cutting an apple. When the blade meets his chin, he speaks.

‘No.’

You meet his eyes briefly.

‘Don’t lie.’

You scrape away the remainder of his whiskers before twisting your body to wash the blade off in the sink. You keep it cuddled in you fist as you use two fingers to tip his chin into the light, gripping his jaw softly to turn his head this way and that, inspecting your work. He’s warm beneath you, firm and achingly hard. A pleased smile slicks across your lips, and keeping one hand cradled to his throat, you press the tip of the blade to his sternum and wait for any kind of reaction. Any twitch of a muscle, any change in the pace of his breathing, any flickering of his eyes. Instead, he keeps them trained on your mouth, heavy lidded, nostrils flaring, wanting.

He trusts you. And he knows you enjoy the power. Too much.

He can feel the heat, the wetness, leaking though your underwear already.

A soft growl slips from his throat as you trail the knife down, down. Down between his pecks, over the swell of his soft belly, through the hair that guides the way to his stiff cock. When you make it to the elastic of his waistband, you trace your initials against his soft skin - hard enough to leave red marks, but not so as to draw blood. When you lift your eyes, he is watching you; aching, panting.

You bring the tip of the blade back up - circle his nipples, trace his clavicles, slide it along the base of his skull at the back of his neck. Killing him softly. When you press it to his temple, he knows the game is up. He knows you’re ready, the last lingering pulls of violence flaking from your hands as you lay the knife at the edge of the sink and wind your hands around his neck. You push your tits flush against him and press a dirty, open-mouthed kiss to his neck. Every one of his senses is attuned to every one of your movements, and he feels with keen urgency the movement of your tongue against his skin, the shapes you trace, your hot, damp breath, the minute scrape of your teeth -

You roll your hips, whining, soaked cunt dragging over the heft of his cock, and Dave grunts, standing so quickly that it makes you dizzy.

His palms are firm beneath your ass as he moves, taking leave of the bathroom to throw you down onto the deep mattress of the bed. The room is dark, the curtains not drawn - only a thin, orange light drains through the gauze covering the window, illuminating the curves and angles of your body.

Dave hauls himself over you, spreading your thighs, nipping any skin he can take between his teeth, your hands feverish over his bare shoulders, his back, his chest. He takes care to suck deep, hard marks into your neck, stripping you of your vest to bite into the soft swell of your breasts. You rock your hips against the thigh he's got nestled against your cunt, mewling softly, and the sound draws his lips to your mouth, licking in, molding, devouring. He presses a kiss to your jaw as he rolls his hips against you, and you moan, the noise throbbing through his body. With blindly moving fingers, he finds the bandage he had wrapped around your thigh tonight, the knife wound carved into you earlier in the evening by some son of a bitch he dispatched not seconds later.

Dave traces the shape of the bandages, the rough softness of the material, the bow he’d tied in mock of a garter. You were lucky he didn’t slice deeper - not that it seems to bother you now as Dave traces the indent of the cut, you nibbling his earlobe in response.

He presses his fingers deeper in to the wound only to feel you clench your thighs around him, numb to the pain, feeling only pleasure. He ruts into you once more before trailing back down your body, laving kisses wherever he can, only stopping to peel your underwear off, only pausing to cup your thighs and push them into your chest so he can spread you wide and take you apart with his mouth.

He eats you like he’s ravenous, like a man starved for days. His tongue is strong against you, working you easily, so easily you could be convinced he knows your body better than you do. He licks and bites, sucking bruises into the soft flesh of your thighs when you reel too close to the edge, and only when you beg, threaten, does he pull far enough away to spit down onto when you’re already dripping, spreading his saliva over your swollen pussy with his thick fingers. He reattaches his mouth to your clit, sucking and flicking, his slick fingers gliding inside you easily, pumping and curling until he can feel your walls begin to tighten and flutter. Your fists twist in his short hair and he moans lewdly against you, moving faster, harsher, wrenching something painful and hot inside you. You buck beneath him, back arching as he digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise to hold you still, gushing and clenching around his fingers. He loves watching you lose yourself like this, head thrown back in ecstasy, body glistening, twitching, sensitive. Loves watching the control slip from you, watching you slip into submission, give in. Give in to him.

He takes more, presses for more. He always does. His mouth continues to slurp greedily at your cunt as you sob, trying to push him away. But he’s immovable, insatiable, dragging a second orgasm from your body even as it continues to crash through the first. He wants to keep going until there is nothing left, until you are just as much a part of him as the need to harm and protect.

To love is to consume, to love is to destroy. Both are something you do, and do well - but the feeling itself is a dirty word in this dark hotel room. It is not a word he thinks of as he presses one last kiss to your sopping folds, not one that crosses his mind as he rids himself of his sweat pants, his cock hard as stone, slapping against his belly. He grips his base, dragging his fist over it once, twice, before he kneels between your slack legs. He leans forward to grip your chin as he notches himself at your entrance, pulling your face down so that you’re forced to watch him take you.

The first press into your cunt is always the tightest. Tight in anticipation, in need, and Dave is careful to let his mind fall blank so he doesn’t come too soon. You arch beneath him again, your hands reaching for his where they rest atop your thighs. He knows not to mistake it for something tender, but for the need to dispel your energy, your urges. The language is understood - when he rocks back, cock soaked with your arousal, and pushes in again, he follows the sound of your ragged gasp, leaning forward to take your mouth with his, biting your bottom lip, nipping at your shoulder. You take advantage of the position to sink your own teeth into his flesh, piercing and moaning. The sensation pushes him to pick up his force, his pace.

Look at me. The only command he needs to give, the rest so ingrained now. When to come, when not to come, when and how to move. The only thing he ever needs to remind you of is where your eyes belong when he’s fucking into you like this, when it feels so good like this.

Tonight feels like more of a race than it usually does. You’re tightening dangerously around him, moaning, crying louder and louder as he drills into you, so warm, so wet, the noises your cunt is making so obscene that heat begins to coil threateningly at the base of his spine. He pierces you with his cock, tip knocking against your cervix with every thrust until tears gloss your eyes, your hands in a vice grip around the tops of his arms as you gasp out, unable to form a full word - oh, fu-, go-, Da-ave, ple-. He sneers down at you, a hand coming to cradle below your jaw again, throat held between his thumb and fingers, digits squeezing, constricting, restricting the bloodflow until your eyes are far away, blissed, body limp. Enough for a rush, enough for your mind to be derailed from its linear thinking - next kill, next kill, next kill. This is what you need, and he is proud that he can give it to you, gritting out a yeah, s’that good, little girl? Like that? before your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, your back bowed, your cunt spasming and gushing around him, your cry caught between your teeth as you try to roll away from him. He grips your wrists in one hand, bringing them high above your head as you twist and keen and throb, fat, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as he continues to fuck you, hard enough to make sure it bruises tomorrow. Your sobs come quieter as he moans into your neck, as he tells you how good you are, how tight you are, how you belong to him, how you’ll never get away, as he tells you to take it, take it, and you beg, plead with him - please, Dave, please - before he thrusts himself cruelly all the way inside you, gritting his teeth and growling as he comes, as you keen up at him.

He wants to keep you full of him for as long as possible, all the time, but there are so many reasons why that’s not feasible. When he slips his softening cock from your pussy, you whimper at the loss. He ignores the sound and instead sits back to watch his cum leak from your used cunt, down to your asshole, before collecting it with his thumb and pushing it back in. He looks back up at you, eyes glazed, breath heavy, body sated, and finds a similar expression laid across your features. When he catches his breath, he stretches himself out beside you on the mattress, covering you both with the sheets. Both pairs of eyes trained to the ceiling, not thinking, not thinking, just feeling.

But even in primal feeling, even when he snips at the gnaw in his chest, he craves it, needs it. Slave to your touch, your command, your control, your submission. It’s dangerous in a world like this, in a world like yours.

When your chest settles into a regular rhythm, you curl yourself into him. Your body is warm and firm, still sweaty, your cunt still dripping as you hook a leg over his hip. You wrap around him like he is somebody you miss, somebody you wish to hold outside of this bedroom. Your breath crowds the side of his neck, and he closes his eyes to it, letting himself be swept away. Sedated by what your bodies provide, sleep laps like waves, submerges, drowns, and in the darkness Dave is not sure where he ends and you begin.

When he wakes, still hours from dawn, the bed is cold beside him.

further an: while sedated was obviously the main catalyst here, i'd also recommend listening to massive attack's come near me while/after reading. happy trails!

divider from @saradika-graphics

#dave york #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york smut #the equalizer 2 #Spotify

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roxygen22 · 1 month

Text

Paper

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

Summary: Reader and Willy discover that Ben/Bean is an aspiring artist. Age: 3 & 17

<><><><><>

You were outside hanging clothes on the line to dry when you heard the back door slam and little feet running toward you. Before your brain could register what was happening, you were nearly bowled over by the force of Ben running into your leg.

You looked down to find that Ben had buried his face and balled up his fists in your skirt. "Pa ell a mm," you heard his garbled speech muffled by the fabric. You knelt down and pried his fingers loose so you could look at his red, tear-streaked face.

"I'm sorry, Benny. I couldn't understand you when your mouth was covered. Take a deep breath." You inhaled deeply through your nose and out through your mouth a couple of times, motioning for him to copy you. "Good. Now, try again. What's all this about?"

"P-papa lelled at m-meeee." The boy started sobbing again.

"Oh dear. What happened?"

"I..." he sucked in a breath. "I wanted to dwaw him a picture. I saw paper on Papa's desk..."

"Ah, I see. Did that paper already have words on it?"

"Only on fwont. I dwew on back."

"Oh, Benny. We talked about asking before you touch anything in the study. Papa has very important papers in there for the shop and factory."

"I'm sowwy." He looked up at you with big puppy-dog eyes. You cupped his round cheeks in your hands.

"I know you are. But I'm not the one you need to apologize, too. Why don't you go inside to your room and play while I go check on Papa. After that, you can tell him you're sorry." Ben nodded, then shuffled through the back door to his room with his head hung low.

It was out of character for Willy to snap at anyone. The man typically had the patience of a saint, so you knew Ben must have drawn on something important. You quietly stepped into the study and spied Willy slumped in the armchair, one hand supporting his forehead and one foot kicked out. It looked as if he had collapsed dramatically into it.

"I made him cry," Willy said morosely without looking up. "I didn't- I didn't mean to. I shouted his name. I was just trying to get his attention and stop him before he did more damage. I...I startled him, and he ran off to you."

"Full name or nickname?" you asked as you sat on the sofa next to him.

"Full name," he groaned.

You grimaced. Ouch, you thought. Willy hardly ever referred to the boy as anything but Bean and almost never as Benjamin unless introducing him to others. It's on par with your mother using your middle name when you were in trouble. You shuddered slightly. That probably wounded Ben worse than the volume. "What did he draw on?"

Willy held up the face page of a contract with the hand not supporting his head. He had yet to look up at you.

"Oh dear."

"I'll ask Beth to type up a new one tomorrow before the meeting. It wasn't worth raising my voice at him. I...I just had a long day and...of course, that doesn't excuse anything. Is he okay?"

"He'll be alright," you said soothingly as you placed your hand on Willy's arm. "He's calming down in his room. Like you said, he was startled. You are usually the fun one, not the disciplinarian."

"I should go to him," Willy said as he stood from the chair. You returned to your previous task of hanging out the laundry so they could have some time alone to make amends.

Willy walked to Ben's room and gently knocked before pushing the door open. Ben looked up at him from his desk with big sad eyes.

"Hey there," Willy said softly.

"I dwew you another picture. I'm sowwy, Papa," Ben said pitifully as he handed Willy a piece of paper.

"Oh, Bean. Is this the factory?" Ben nodded excitedly. "Wow, such great detail! Is this what you wanted to draw earlier?" Ben nodded again, with less exuberance this time. Willy's heart broke as he saw his son's face fall.

"Hey, buddy. I'm sorry for raising my voice and scaring you. That was a very important paper you were drawing on, and I needed you to stop."

"I know, Mamma told me I need to ask first," he responded dejectedly. "I just had a picture in my head that I wanted to dwaw when I was by your desk."

"Ah, that I understand. Sometimes my ideas don't come to me at convenient times, either. Tell you what. How about I set up a drawer with paper that's safe to draw or write on whenever an idea strikes. You never have to ask for permission as long as it's from that drawer. Deal?"

Ben's face lit up again, and he stuck his tiny right hand to shake. "Deal!"

Willy shook his son's hand with his right and looked down again at the picture in his left. It was incredibly well done for Ben's age.

"Can I take this to the factory with me? I want to frame and hang it. If you draw more, I'll have a whole gallery wall of Benjamin Wonka works."

Ben giggled, "Okay, Papa!"

<><><><><>

Over time, Ben's art skills matured to charcoals, watercolors, canvases, and paints. Willy spotted the talent early and took great pleasure in encouraging it, supplying it. Fourteen years later, he had indeed collected enough of Ben's work to fill multiple walls.

"People need to see this."

Willy decided to surprise Ben by converting one of his shops into a limited time art gallery for his 17th birthday. He somehow managed to promote what ended up being the town's social event of the season while also keeping it a secret from his boy.

It was finally the night of the big reveal. "Papa, why are we going to the shop so late? I thought we were going to meet Mamma and Charlie for dinner?" Ben walked shoulder to shoulder with Willy. They were nearly the same height now.

Willy was vibrating with excitement. "I just need to pick up something I left there," he bent the truth slightly. "Your birthday present."

When they arrived, Willy unlocked the doors to reveal a magenta velvet curtain blocking the entry. He took the gold pull cord in his hand and handed it to Ben.

Ben looked at the tassel in his hand, bewildered. "What is this?"

"Your gift! Pull it and find out." As Ben pulled the cord, the curtain drew back to reveal...

"Surprise!!"

Ben stood there with his mouth ajar as he looked around at you, Charlotte, Noodle, his friends and girlfriend. Everyone rushed him for a celebratory hug. He gave you a kiss on the cheek. Then, the background details caught his eye. The crowd separated as Ben made his way to look at the walls that were now decorated with his paintings rather than shelves of candies and chocolates.

He browsed in awe until he stopped at the penciled sketch of the Wonka factory, gently tracing the golden frame with his fingers. He felt Willy step up beside him and gently squeeze his shoulder.

"Happy birthday, Bean."

Ben looked over his shoulder to reveal misty eyes. "Thanks for always being my biggest fan, Papa," he said reverently.

"I'm glad I could be right here beside you when your talent is shared with the world."

<><><><><>

A/N: I think it's safe to say that Willy would be his kids' biggest cheerleaders.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

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toaster-trash · 7 months

Text

Volume III Chapter IV/V of the original 1818 text of Frankenstein lives in my brain rent free. I need to rant about Clerval’s death or I’ll loose it. (It’s late and I’m exhausted rn so my ass is NOT as coherent and structured as it could be but fuck it we ball)

“He appeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years of age.” MY PRECIOUS BOY

“(…) having brought the body into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed, and rubbed it; and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was quite gone.” HE MIGHTN’T HAVE BEEN DEAD WHEN THEY FOUND HIM BUT IT WAS TOO LATE

“I saw the lifeless form of Henry Clerval stretched before me. I gasped for breath; and, throwing myself on the body, I exclaimed, “Have my murderous machinations deprived you also, my dearest Henry, of life? Two I have already destroyed; other victims await their destiny: but you, Clerval, my friend, my benefactor”——

The human frame could no longer support the agonizing suffering that I endured, and I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions.

A fever succeeded to this. I lay for two months on the point of death (…)” THE WAY VICTOR REACTS TO AND SPIRALS FROM CLERVAL’S DEATH IS SO MUCH MORE SEVERE THAN ANYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENS TO HIM and it’s also an extremely interesting character study to see what happens when the only person he ever really seemed to have a mutual loving and healthy relationship with gets cut out of the picture – Victor’s had his fevers, he’s wallowed, but he always had Clerval to draw him from his wallowing and to nurse him back to health. So what happens when Clerval’s death is the cause of that anguish? THE DRAMA THE ANGST I love these silly little gothic losers to death but watching Frankenstein grieve over the passing of who was pretty much essentially his lover is fascinating to me and it SHOWS how much Frankenstein adores Clerval through the latter’s death. THE MAGNITUDE OF HIS GRIEF IS A TESTAMENT TO THEIR LOVE oml i can’t rn frfr THEYRE SO GAY AND SO GOTHIC I CAN NOT

“Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest?” “I thank you; but all that you mention is nothing to me: on the whole earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.” “(…)surely I should have died on the coffin of Henry.” AGAIN Victor’s absolute grief tearing himself up over it

“As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black melancholy, that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was for ever before me, ghastly and murdered.” “Sometimes they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbs nearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them.” Again what I said about his grief being a testament to their love bro, REMINISCING ABOUT HIS DEAD LOVER AND HIS BEAUTY EVEN IN DEATH WHILE GRIEVING HIM I CANT BRO

“Ah! my father, do not remain in this wretched country; take me where I may forget myself, my existence, and all the world.” HERE’S THE START OF HIM PUSHING AWAY THE MEMORY AND TRYING TO SUPPRESS IT BECAUSE THE GRIEF IS TOO SEVERE and that is SO interesting for how he shifts his tone with Elizabeth and puts up that fake demeanour of wanting to marry her because he thinks it’ll make HER happy even though both of them describe dreading the wedding, also possibly another argument for the legitimacy of reading Clerval and Frankenstein’s relationship as romantic – in order to forget him, he assigns himself to the role given to him as a child by marrying Elizabeth and gives up whatever he hope he had (possibly discouraged from Clerval being murdered as a response to Victor refusing to finish the Bride and subject her to the same fate as him and Elizabeth to the Creature, a pact made without her knowledge or consent, an arranged marriage. Where has spiting that tradition led him? Where has him standing up to the shroud of his mother’s dying wishes, hanging over him the entire novel thus far, led him, by refusing to force the Bride into an arranged marriage with the Creature, as he was with Elizabeth? To the death of the one man he truly loved. So fuck it, right? He can at least “make his dear cousin happy” and not die spiting the one thing he was meant to do – make his mother proud from beyond the grave by marrying Elizabeth.)

“the wind that blew me from the detested shore of Ireland(…)” sorry my country traumatised you bro (I mentioned to one of my teachers while explaining the plot of Frankenstein to them, as you do, that this chapter takes place in Ireland and the “god damn ok” face was priceless)

“I was deceived by no vision, and that Clerval, my friend and dearest companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my creation. I repassed, in my memory, my whole life; my quiet happiness while residing with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my departure for Ingolstadt. I remembered shuddering at the mad enthusiasm that hurried me on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to mind the night during which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the train of thought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept bitterly.” HE’S TRYING SO DESPERATELY TO LEAVE IT BEHIND AND TO REPRESS IT but now he’s left Ireland and he’s no longer feverish, the clarity washes over him and he can’t do anything except just lie there and cry over everything that’s happened AND MY POOR LAD HE CANT EVEN CONTINUE BEYOND THE POINT OF THE CREATURES REANIMATION BECAUSE THOSE FEELINGS PRESS DOWN ON HIM AND CROWD HIM AND OVERWHELM HIM AND HE JUST BREAKS INTO SOBS

And what happens after “the night during which he first lived”?

He’s saved from his own downward spiral by Clerval.

What’s he doing now?

Going on a downward spiral.

Where’s Clerval?

Dead.

“Ever since my recovery from the fever I had been in the custom of taking every night a small quantity of laudanum; for it was by means of this drug only that I was enabled to gain the rest necessary for the preservation of life. Oppressed by the recollection of my various misfortunes, I now took a double dose, and soon slept profoundly. But sleep did not afford me respite from thought and misery; my dreams presented a thousand objects that scared me.” And Christ above THIS LINE, not only can he now physically not sleep at night after what happened, but he’s gotten into the habit of drug use over it – which wouldn’t have been too bizarre by Victorian standards, but in the 18th century, laudanum wasn’t administered nearly as liberally and was mostly used for surgery, from what I can find, anyway. Not to mention that fact that he starts double dosing on it as the memories come back to him – his grief starts getting to the point where he’s using drug use in order to cope, but it hardly matters as his torment follows him to sleep.

“We had resolved not to go to London, but to cross the country to Portsmouth, and thence to embark for Havre. I preferred this plan principally because I dreaded to see again those places in which I had enjoyed a few moments of tranquillity with my beloved Clerval. I thought with horror of seeing again those persons whom we had been accustomed to visit together, and who might make inquiries concerning an event, the very remembrance of which made me again feel the pang I endured when I gazed on his lifeless form in the inn at ——.” THIS LINE LIVES IN MY BRAIN. RENT FREE. HOW COULD SHELLEY HAVE CUT THIS OUT OF THE 1831 PUBLICATION THIS IS SO GOLDEN DEAR LORD I ADORE THEM.

“MY BELOVED CLERVAL”

BUT ALSO AGAIN we’ve got Frankenstein trying SO desperately to forget everything, and he knows that he can’t face the people who knew Clerval or he’d break down. And I love the way this version continues on his grief to the next chapter – it’s not done and dropped, its ongoing and it plagues him, and it will plague him as long as he lives. I wonder what would happen if he did go through London, if he did meet those people again. Would things have turned out differently? Would he finally have been given a sense of comfort and clarity through mutual grief, as nobody so far since Henry’s death and for the rest of the book, except the creature, ironically, has grieved for Clerval except for Frankenstein. If he met people who took as fondly to Clerval as he did, at least on meeting him briefly, who would have sympathy towards Victor – would he finally have that space to grieve for him in a healthy way, to be comforted by people who at least vaguely understand a fraction of his anguish?

The way Victor Frankenstein BREAKS after the death of Henry Clerval is one of the most fascinating and endearing parts of the novel that completely lives in my head rent free. He spirals, he becomes ill, he becomes deeply suicidal and depressed, he begins drug misuse – and adaptations have the sheer balls to cut Clerval out of the story altogether.

…..”My beloved Clerval” HELP ME HE ACTUALLY SAID IT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

#gothic lit #classic literature #gothic literature #frankenstein #goth lit #classic lit #frankenstein weekly #clervalstein #Victor Frankenstein #Henry Clerval #frankenstein or the modern prometheus #frankenstein 1818

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jamespottersdaisy · 11 months

Text

We could slow dance to rock music, kiss while we do it.

Sirius Black x fem!reader.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

warnings - drinking, mentions and allusions to sex, no explicit description but still it's pretty obvious that i'm talking about sex so i don't want minors around, fwb?

6.2k

author's note - i like this, but also don't. english is not my first language so beware <3

Your eyebrows were creased, straining the muscles around your temples. You would feel the slowly-forming headache if you weren’t too deep in thought, glaring at the parchment before you.

Stars, lines, moon, and a blank space. A blank space which you should fill.

It wasn’t supposed to be that hard, not if you already had an O.W.L degree, yet somehow your nerves were tense, and you could feel your angry breath against your lips. You were aware of your heartbeat and your shirt's fabric on your skin.

Maybe you should’ve just gone to sleep. It would be nice to lie on the soft bed, and bury yourself under the heavy blanket. Slowly relaxing to the warmth, closing your eyes and dreaming…

No. You had a star chart to finish.

Thus, you groaned and started abusing your poorly-overworked brain once more.

You drew and erased and drew again. You took a break to rest your fingers, messaged your temple, and you drew once more. You even measured the distance between two stars before drawing yet again.

You were almost finished when a chortle echoed from the stairs.

It sounded closer and closer with every second, yet it wasn’t accompanied by anything. Whoever the person that was wandering around at…

You checked the clock.

Three in the morning.

Whoever was wandering around at three in the morning, he was alone. What was he laughing at then?

You didn’t need to wonder more as your head snapped at the stairs instinctively when you felt his shadow.

“Black?”

Sirius was staggering down the stairs with a big grin on his face. He frowned a bit when he found your frame crunched up behind a table.

“Why are you up?” he asked, and you could barely comprehend the words.

“Studying,” you said, “Why are you up?”

He shrugged and tripped over, supporting himself from the walls. Another chuckle left his lips.

You tried not to laugh at his state.

“Are you drunk?”

He offered you a belittling look, which you were sure emerged because of the intoxication.

“No. Do I seem drunk?”

His long raven hair was loose, tousled around his face. His eyes were glassy, and a hazy grin was embracing his lips. You tried not to stare at his jawline.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I am not drunk, so,” Sirius threw himself at the sofa and winced when his head hit its arm. “Perhaps a bit tipsy.”

“How did you even manage to sneak alcohol in?”

You were sure they didn’t leave alcohol lying around in the castle, and nor did they serve it during dinner. Your question seemed to only amuse him more.

“Ask no questions, hear no lies,” he drawled, turning his head at you. “What are you studying?”

His outstretched hand pointed to the parchment before you, and you shrugged.

“Star chart.”

“Did you find me?”

You smiled and arched a brow at him. Little did he know he was the only thing you could think about when you were looking at the star named ‘Sirius’.

“You’re the brightest, how could I not?”

He hummed and stared at the ceiling. You turned back at the paper before you and tried to focus.

Sirius’s presence didn’t render focusing any easy. You were hyper-aware of anything he did and everything you did. You could feel him cast spells with his wand, fetching a chess piece or flying a bar of chocolate around. You could feel your leg bouncing up and down and the urge to stare at him nagging you.

It wasn’t your fault that Sirius Black was beautiful.

Jet black hair cascaded to his shoulders, tired grey eyes cutting into your soul like a knife. His sharp bone structure only complimented more to his mischievous grin. The way he carried himself around in the hallways would ensnare your breath, and the wry smile his lips crafted would glisten your stomach.

Sometimes you would find yourself observing the way he carried out idlest tasks, and you would feel drawn to the way his long fingers played with a pen or the way he slicked his hair back from his face. Occasionally, he would catch you staring, and his lips would curl into a sly grin.

You might not fancy him or bear feelings for him, but you definitely found him attractive.

“When do you think you’ll be done?”

You flinched at his dulcet tone, averting your head at his slouched stature. His eyes were still on the ceiling.

“In a few minutes, why?”

“I’m bored,” he finally glanced at you. “I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour.”

“It’s been roughly twenty-five minutes since you’ve come down,” you said, swallowing the words for ‘Why are you waiting for me?’

“Same thing,” he shrugged and called you again. “Be quick, come on.”

You didn’t remember what you scribbled down on the paper, but you were sure they were all wrong. You merely got it over with to walk up and sit next to him.

Sirius sat up, offering you space on the sofa. You placed yourself a bit away from him and stared at his face. He stared back at you. You didn’t blink away. Neither did he.

Finally, you got bored.

“You said you were waiting for me–”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You made a confused sound at him. What was with intoxicated Sirius? Sober Sirius wouldn’t ask this to you.

“You were waiting for me to ask this?”

“No, I just forgot what I was gonna say,” he nodded several times, eyelids getting heavy. “So, I thought I wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

“You’re a bit tipsy, and you've already started forgetting what you were gonna say?”

“Why are you asking the facts as questions? It’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.”

You were looking more bemused than before now. Sirius must’ve seen it that he started laughing. You didn’t comprehend what was going on in his head.

“You don’t even notice doing it, do you?”

“Sirius, you sure you alright? You haven’t smacked your head on a wall or something?”

He looked around thoughtfully.

“Remus did smack his book to my head an hour ago.”

“You should go to bed,” you got up, offering him your hand. “You’re talking gibberish.”

“I’m good,” he shook his head, grinning up at you while sinking deeper into the sofa. “We have just started talking.”

“Well, I want to sleep,” you grabbed his hand and dragged him. “Get your arse up.”

He was heavier than he looked; you were having a hard time dragging him up on his feet. You were having a hard time getting yourself up on your feet, too, when he pulled you into his lap by your intertwined hands.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, feeling Sirius’s fingers on your back. You were awfully conscious of his touch and your placement on his lap.

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Sirius,” you grit your teeth, trying to raise yourself. He clicked his tongue when you squirmed, giving you a disapproving look.

“Don’t move too much,” he said, and you felt his grip on your back tightening.

You wanted to get up but didn’t want to feel another…friction.

“What question?” you asked to sway the topic and the attention to something else. Something else that wouldn’t heat up your core or wouldn’t sweat your palms. You didn’t even remember the question.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you blurted out and pushed yourself up. Sirius bit down his lip when you did, and you chose to ignore the rasping sound from his throat. You were sure you were sweating.

“Good night, Black.”

You turned your heels and almost sprinted to the stairs for the girl's dorm, but a resonant tone grasped your attention.

“Wait, you’re not gonna help me?”

You groaned and halted your steps, ready to strangle him. He had a feigned smile on his lips when you turned away, and for a moment, you were eager to leave him there to his own devices.

“You didn’t accept my help when I offered it in the first place.”

“Offer again, come on,” he dragged out the words, signalling that he was indeed too inebriated to handle himself.

Thus, you sighed and strode back, hauling him from his arm. He shifted his weight to you, and you were sure he did it on purpose.

“I’m not carrying you, Sirius, just helping you out,” you reminded him, but to no avail. He simply glanced at you with hollow eyes and back at the stairs of the boy's dorm.

The smell of his cologne enticed you, but you managed to bury the butterflies back into their graves. You attempted to drown the screeches in your mind’s walls that echoed, nudging you to heed the proximity between your bodies. His warm breath hitting your cheek didn’t lend a hand to your endeavours of putting a leash on your racing thoughts.

You headed to the stairs, ambling because of Sirius’s weight. Once you approached them, you groaned, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“Help me out here, I can’t carry you all by myself,” the moment the words left your lips, you felt him pull a part of his heft and lift a step.

You were grateful, but it lasted a second. You felt burned on top of your body as you two climbed the stairs– well, mostly, you climbed both of you.

With every step, you felt your muscles tense up, and your breath deepened. When you diverted your eyes to Sirius, the same warm breath caressed your lips. He was watching you this whole time, listening to the voices you were making.

His Adam's apple moved up and down when your eyes fell to his lips, and your breath hitched when his hand on your shoulder touched your hair.

You had to remind yourself that he was drunk. No matter how much his touch ignited your skin or how much his darkened eyes burned deep in your core with desire, he was drunk. He wouldn’t even remember what was happening at that very moment.

What was happening, again?

Oh, nothing. Sirius had simply leaned in and left only an inch between your lips. You simply exhaled deeply into his lips, giving away how much he was affecting you.

Only a bit more, and your lips would touch, your body would flame up, and your heart would burst with lust.

He was drunk.

You inhaled and stepped back. You didn’t look back at him, not until you arrived at your destination. You were expecting that you would have to carry him inside the room, too, but Sirius pushed himself off you and stood on his legs.

“Cheers, love,” he said playfully, his eyes still lost in somewhere between sobriety and drunkenness. You watched him step back, put his hand to the door handle, and open it with a scowl.

“You could walk?! Why did you make me carry you?!”

He simply grinned before closing the door.

You were agitated for the next two days. Mainly because lessons were hopping on your nerves and because Sirius hadn’t acknowledged that night. The possibility that he had forgotten things was taunting you.

You wouldn’t mind it if you two weren’t almost about to kiss. Neither had you paid attention to him much before nor had he to you. It wouldn’t be much of a fuss for your mind if it were before. But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t simply before, and you were starting to notice too many little things about him.

He would huff at the strand of hair before his eyes when cutting an ingredient. He would poke out the tip of this tongue between his lips when he was too focused on something. He had a mole right under his right eye, but it was too tiny to take notice.

All these new details would fumble your concentration.

Thus, when you two were partnered up in Potion’s class, you were frowning most of the time. The other part of the time, you were confused about what to do next for the damned potion.

“Did you add the sloth brain?” you asked Sirius, much to your dismay.

“No, stir twice clockwise first,” he readied the sloth brain, waiting for you to stir the pot.

You obliged, aware of Sirius’s hovering frame next to you. God, he smelled divine. It made you mad.

He added the last ingredient before taking the spoon from you. Chills ran down your back when he brushed his fingers to yours, and you swore at yourself for acting and feeling like a thirteen-year-old. You despised the way your heart took pace when he sneaked closer to you, and your body refused to step away from him. Thus, you pushed him with your hip.

"Move away.”

“Don’t be bitter, I’m helping you out.”

“I am perfectly capable of making the potion.”

You weren’t. Your mind was so lost that Sirius had to intervene four times during the lesson.

“Capable, my arse,” he hits you with his upper arm, showing you slightly back to regain his previous place. “Did you make this many mistakes on your star chart, too?”

That was when your body froze for a second.

He hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You tried not to divulge any out-of-ordinary emotions.

“My star chart was perfect until you came down and interrupted.”

Sirius shrugged, and you noticed that he also curled his lips downward. You glanced at his hands clutching the ladle and involuntarily gazed at the way he stirred the pot.

“It’s not my fault that I’m distractingly beautiful.”

He was distractingly beautiful. At least for you, he was beautiful enough to delve into your mind and ruffle all your thoughts.

“You were simply distractingly annoying,”

Sirius smirked at you, his eyes narrowing vaguely.

“You didn’t seem annoyed when you were on my lap.”

You felt the heat attract your skin, sweat threatening to emerge if you kept visualising how his hands felt on your back. You weren’t going to let him discern this, however.

“Need I remind you who pulled me there in the first place?”

“Nah, I did,” he took your hand and placed it on the ladle. “Do I need to teach you how to stir, or can you do that yourself?”

“You got tired already?” you mocked him, stirring the potion. As every normal person would, you expected him to deny or mock you back.

“Indeed,” he said instead.

In the next moments, he would lean on the desk and watch you stir, and you would try your best not to ask him the question that was eating you alive.

He would stare at your eyes blink while you watched every ingredient dissolve into the liquid just to avoid Sirius’s impact on you. He would observe every muscle twitching on your face while you were wincing at the screaming voices from the next desk. He would admire your smile while Professor Slughorn said, ‘Good job, kid’ to you.

If only you stopped fighting shy of his presence and heeded, you would notice that his eyes never left you for even a moment.

In the next few weeks, you would engage with Sirius more than any time of the year you had been in this school.

He would come and sit next to you, bothering you while you were reading something. When you shooed him away, he would simply promise to stay quiet and listen to you read.

‘I will be as silent as the grave.’

At some point, you would stutter, and he would ignore it.

He would tease you at every opportunity and grin when you would get mad at him.

‘Stop eating my bloody muffins, Black!’

He would repeat the same thing only to adore the scowl on your face and the wrinkle between your brows, but you would be too irritated to notice it.

He would keep you company at your night studies but mask it as ‘not being able to sleep’.

‘Remus snores too loud.’

You would be too tense to perceive his covetous gaze.

You wouldn’t understand his sudden interest in you, but you secretly cherished this new friendship.

You would feel tingles when he drew stars on your arm during the lessons. You wouldn’t be able to hide your smile when he would ask you to polish his nails black. Your heart would flutter when he sat beside you and listened to you read.

However, there was also something else lingering between the two bodies. A tension that would tense you, fluster your mind, and frazzle your skin with a yearning for his touch.

You would feel it when his breath hit your cheek, his finger brushed your hand, his thigh stroked yours. You would feel it when he whispered at night, hummed at your jeering words, and grinned at your tinted face.

You would feel it when he found you at midnight on Astronomy Tower, too.

You didn’t know how, but he would magically appear and cross your way; your encounters had tripled recently. Especially when you were alone.

At least once a week, you two would stumble upon each other in the Tower and the plain ‘hey’s would turn into deep late-night talks. Sometimes you would tell him how you had the worst day in your life, and he would briefly mention his family.

You were slowly becoming friends.

Yet, a feeling had been clawing your skin every moment he was close, exhorting you to touch his arm, his hand, his leg. A small gesture to the eye, but your heart would clench with a yen for more each time.

The exact feeling was now nagging you as Sirius was talking about his dream tattoo.

“A constellation?”

“How else would people know what star it is?”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. A simple star wouldn’t indicate the name, and he was determined to have Sirius tattooed. It was rather a silly conversation for one in the morning at Astronomy Tower, but recently you had grown to enjoy his voice.

“Where do you want it?” you asked, and he smirked.

You watched Sirius get up from the wall you’ve been leaning on and pull his shirt up. You expected him to point somewhere around his navel, but instead, he clasped the shirt between his teeth and placed his hand on his black pants.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit panicked, but your eyes betrayed you by peeking at his abdomen.

“Not taking my pants off, calm down,” he grinned and pulled the right part of his pants slightly down. You could swear you felt your breath get heavier when his right hip came to view. Everything from the sharp outline of his bone to the thin hair on his skin was boiling something in you, threatening to spill any moment.

“You could've just said to my hip,” you averted your eyes at his face with force.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t see that look on your face,” he said, pushing his clothes back to their rightful places. You feigned a frown when he sat back next to you, your arms touching.

“What look?”

“The one you make whenever I’m too close to you.”

You could feel the embarrassment climbing into your core and the need to lick your lips itching your nerves.

“I don’t make any looks,” you managed to voice, trying to cover your chagrin with insouciance.

Sirius scoffed and leaned in, almost daring you to prove him wrong. And you tried. You tried so hard not to hold your breath, not to pinch your thigh, and not to gulp the apprehension away.

He grabbed your chin when you failed.

You kept your eyes on his grey ones, albeit his hot breath begged you to shut them. You wondered if Sirius could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

“Sure you don’t,” he whispered, and you hated him for it.

Anticipation was hurting you, burning your heart with desire. You were irked that he wasn't doing anything. Teasing you, pushing you to the edge of the cliff, but never letting you see the view. You despised that you were at his mercy.

He pulled away when you leaned in, chuckled at your eagerness. You were about to stop this madness and leave the Tower if it weren't for his hand on your waist that pulled your body close to his.

He was playing with you, testing your limits and self-control, which you clearly lacked. Or else you wouldn't arch your back at his touch and part your lips.

His hands roamed every inch of your body, but lips never touched yours. He let you place your hand on his collar but not on his face to crash your lips to his. You let his hands caress the bare skin of your arms, needing them closer to your heart, but he didn't give you what you wanted.

Your patience was hanging from a thread, ready to snap in a second. You could feel the frustration building up, slave to one mockery to burst into flames. Irritation and anticipation blended together, their colours turning your stomach upside down.

One more smirk from him, and you would snap.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

So you snapped.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

You weren't soft, he wasn't gentle, and the kiss wasn't tender.

It was hungry, zealous, and rapacious.

His lips fought with yours, intoxicating your every sense. Your nails marked his neck, earning rattled breaths that urged you for more. His hands claimed your skin, igniting every inch with lust.

You tugged on his hair when he bit down on your lip, and he pressed his fingers harder on your skin when you slipped your tongue inside.

Your breath mingled with his, and your lips parted only briefly when he pulled you to his lap.

The next second, he was pulling you in, hands on either side of your face. You pushed his hair away from his face, moaning to his lips.

His hands found their way under your clothes, making you arch at the cold of his fingers. Your lips were swollen and red at his point, as well as his.

Yet, he didn't stop. Not until you were both unable to breathe anymore.

When he did stop, your lips missed his lips. You let your lungs take the air they needed while your eyes stared deep into his darkened ones.

Both of you were gasping for air, chests moving up and down in sync.

What would happen next stretched to dozens of moments, hundreds of thoughts and thousands of doubts.

You could stop right here and there. You could pause and talk about it or even not talk about it ever again. You could stay in the dark, refusing to learn what it would be like to feel him, to hear him, to taste him. Or…

All you had to do was to make the first move.

You chose the latter.

Great changes were made to your life since that night.

For example, you had learned how to sneak into the boy's room. You were now passing the Requirements Room more often, and your lips would be somehow swollen every time you were late to class.

It was exciting, the feeling that you could anytime feel a hand on your arm pulling you close, but it was also incredibly messy. You were skipping classes, meals, and even small chats with your friends.

You didn't regret it, though.

His quiet moans against your skin, your nail marks on his back, and the hot breaths lingering between the two bodies were all you needed to recall to abide.

It didn't have a name.

You two were clinging to each other as hard as you could, your lips were begging for more even though there was nothing more to take, and the loving words were being spoken in the heat of a moment. But it didn't have a name.

You never bothered to think about it.

“I’m not sure they will fall for that,” you mumbled drowsily as Sirius was playing with your hair. A little bit more, and you would doze off on his bare chest.

“They will, they’re astonishingly stupid,” he said, and you frowned at how he didn’t trouble himself to keep his voice down. It was the middle of the night, and you were sure the other three boys were asleep–or trying to fall asleep– as you two talked.

“They’re smart enough to guess why you’re inviting them to a Gryffindor party,”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and you felt your head move. “But we’re inviting all the Slytherins, and they’re proud enough to show up.”

“You still won’t tell me what’s the prank?”

He laughed, and you winced at the loud tone.

“You just have fun, leave that part to us–”

“Some of us are trying to sleep, Pads!” James exclaimed, and you stifled a chuckle. Sirius had mentioned that he woke up early every morning.

“It’s only midnight,” he called back, and you squeezed your lips together when another calm but firm voice was heard.

“Sirius, be quiet.”

“Be quiet yourself, Remus!”

But as time passed, you found yourself questioning things, trying to put on a label desperately so you could comprehend. So you could understand why he kissed your lips and called you his friend to others, why he put distance between you in public but got frustrated when he couldn’t feel your skin on his in private, and why he didn’t even touch you in mornings but marked you at nights.

You often found yourself gazing at the way his hair stuck to his temple or the way his fingers stroked the bruises on your hips.

“You’re staring,” he said between rapid breaths as he threw himself beside you. You laughed, drawing a deep breath in.

You didn’t know how to ask this with the least damage, but you also knew if you let this…situation go on, it would only harm you.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Did I add glue to Pete’s shampoo? Yeah, I did.”

You rolled your eyes at him before giving him a disapproving look. Sirius merely grinned and nodded.

“Kidding. Ask away.”

Here goes nothing

“I want to know,” you dig your nails into your palm. “what…this is.”

You were sure you didn’t choose the right words, but how else were supposed to ask it without sounding cheesy? When you peeked at Sirius, he looked frowning, eyes blinking fast enough to let you know his mind was blank.

“What is what?”

“This,” you repeated, this time with more determination. You swung your pointer finger between the distance. “Us. What we are doing.”

“I–” he stopped, staring at you. You felt like his gaze was accusing you of relying on him for all the answers. “You can end it if that’s what you want.”

Your face fell in annoyance. How was that any relevant to what you asked?

“That’s not what I said.”

“I don’t understand what you said then.”

You sat up and started putting your clothes on, your brows furrowed. Sirius watched you propped up on his elbows. You tried not to peek at his hair.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I am not going anywhere until you answer my question,” you tugged your shirt and faced him. “I asked what are we?”

You cringed internally for voicing the words and cursed Sirius for making you. But it had to be done; you weren’t going to be one of those people who would fall in love with the ideas in their heads. You had to know what you meant for him.

Sirius was biting his lips, picking the skin off. You arched a brow at him, still waiting.

“Friends?”

“Friends don’t moan each other’s names.”

Sirius groaned, sitting up. His eyes never left yours, his lips parting and closing in a search for the right words. Oh, how you wanted to dive into his mind and see the mess.

“I don’t know. What do you expect me to say? I’m in this as much as you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. You two never talked about this, but you should’ve. Because right now, your unspoken words were getting in the way.

You looked at his conflicted face, loving the gleam of emotion you didn’t understand but hating the cross ambience you were too familiar with in his eyes. You were a stranger to your feelings for him; you didn’t know what you wanted, not yet, at least. But whatever it was, being away from him wasn’t the one.

Minutes had passed, and you were still silent. It hindered him and hampered the space between you. Somehow, the arm’s distance felt like miles for you.

Sirius cleared his throat.

“Do you– are you asking this because you want to see others, but you feel like you owe me something?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, words building up on the tip of your tongue. So many thoughts and words were waiting to be said, and you felt like you didn’t have enough time for them.

“No–”

“Because you can.”

“What?”

“See others. You can do that if you wish.”

You were staring at him with a glower. He was fine with you seeing someone else. Did this mean he felt nothing of importance for you? Did this mean you should also be fine with him seeing someone else? Well, you weren’t.

“I don’t want to see others,” you said, albeit you were sure something ruder would come out of your mouth. “So this is purely physical? Just sex?”

He stood still for a moment, denying you any answer. You knew he was thinking. You could see it from his eyebrows, hands, and eyes that moved around. You just didn’t know what he was thinking.

You also knew it was way too late for you when you felt a sting in your heart as he spoke.

“Yes. Just sex.”

Nothing changed, and yet you felt like everything had changed.

It was still the same tender touches, soft words, and zealous kisses. It was still the same tingle in your stomach when he would call you pretty while you whimpered with pleasure. It was still the same fire on your skin when his lips would caress every inch. It was still the same peace when he would hold you close afterwards.

However, the sleepless nights, warm tears and red eyes were new. The agony in your soul when he would simply nod at you in the mornings was new. The storm in your heart when he would leave you alone in empty rooms was new. The war in your mind when he fell asleep on your lap was new.

You hated every moment of it.

You started to see him with other girls more, too. Maybe you simply had started to pay attention, but it bothered you. It boiled your blood, tensed your muscles and twisted your tongue.

You wanted to show him it was more for you, but you didn’t know how. Of course, you could simply go up to him and confess your feelings. But where’s the fun in that? You were determined to get a confession from him.

That’s why you repeated everything he did that wounded you.

He simply said ‘hey’ at you in the common room? You didn’t acknowledge him.

He said one of you should leave first so that you don’t attract attention? You were already out of the room.

He was about to swallow a girl whole? You didn’t do that yet. It felt beneath you to betray your feelings like that.

But you did watch him with a drink in your hand, music blasting in your ears and blazing eyes. His hand rested on the girl's back, a smug grin flashing as he lowered his head at her to hear her. You could feel every drop of poison travelling in your veins when he touched her, thorns of jealousy bleeding you.

What a party.

At some point, you even contemplated returning to your room but decided to not let him ruin your night. Thus, you found your friends, and to your luck, they had enough energy to let you loose.

They made you sway your hips to the rhythm, jump in your place, and scream the lyrics from the top of your lungs. You were even drunk enough to feel dizzy, or maybe that was just too much jumping around.

You closed your eyes for a moment to take a break, laughing at yourself. You knew you shouldn't do it, but your hands poured another drink, ready to gulp it down.

“What are you doing alone?” a familiar voice called your attention. The raven black-hair was enough to let you know who it was.

You hated his attire. Black leather jacket on his bare chest with the same coloured pants. You hated his rings. Wrapping around his fingers too elegantly, forcing you to peek. You hated the black nails that you painted and the eyeliner you drew.

“Drinking.”

Sirius nodded and maybe even hummed, but the rock music was too loud to hear. You felt him take your hand and slowly pull you.

“Come dance with me,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist. You hated the butterflies too.

“I don’t want to jump around, my head hurts.”

“Then we’ll slow dance. Come now.”

"To rock music?"

"Sure," he rested your hands on his shoulders, embracing you with his and pushing your bodies together.

"This is ridiculous," you breathed to his lips. Music and your movements didn't align. It made you feel out of place.

"How is your night so far?" he ignored you, and you heard the sarcasm in his question. Would it be bad if you punched him in the eye? But again, you loved his grey eyes.

"Wonderful."

"Mine is too."

You rolled your eyes. He brought his hands to your hips. You could feel the odd looks from the people around. Who danced like this to rock music?

"Yeah, I saw."

He smirked, and you stepped on his foot.

"Saw what?"

"The wonderful in your night," you snarled, and his eyes caught yours escaping to the direction of the girl Sirius was with moments ago.

"Are you jealous?" he asked as he swirled you around.

Maybe you should punch him after all. Hopefully, it would wipe off the smug on his face.

"No.”

“She was needed for the prank. To lure Rosier in.”

“Don’t remember asking.”

“I know. Didn’t want you to think of something else.”

‘Why?’ You wanted to ask but blurted something else out instead.

“We don’t owe each other anything, do we? You can do what you like, and I can do what I like.”

He frowned a bit.

“I thought you didn’t want to see others.”

“Time will tell.”

“I don’t want you to see others.”

“You were the one–”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?” you asked this time. Your heart was beating with the excitement of being so close to what you wanted to hear. “It’s just sex like you said.”

“I made a mistake,” he said and turned the whole conversation into a joke again. “I didn’t know it was possible, either.”

“I will leave if you can’t stay serious for five minutes.”

“Fine, sorry,” he chuckled, but it was forced. His hands were sweaty, and his movements a bit sloppy. He was being extra careful not to step on you. He was aware this was the moment he was supposed to open his heart.

But he didn’t. He didn’t, and you waited.

You waited as he drew a sharp breath in, and you waited as he licked his lips. You waited for the words that never came.

He was pushing you to the edge of a cliff, not letting you see the view. You could give up, let go of whatever this was. You could abandon your feelings and forbid your skin to his touch, and he wouldn’t have the power over your heart anymore.

All you had to do was to make the first move.

“I want this to be more, Sirius,” you said.

His breath stopped for a moment. His hands tightened around your hips. You felt your steps come to a halt, too. Not that you were complaining; it was a weird dance.

“I want you to be more.”

He rested his forehead against yours, a crook of a smile appearing on his lips.

“We’re on the same page then,” he whispered, and you heard it despite the screams and music around you.

You didn’t know why he had such a hard time admitting his feelings or voicing them properly. But you were used to it. He wouldn’t tell you he cared about you, instead, he would dance to rock music with you.

You smiled and started to move ineptly at the head-aching music. He kissed your lips when you did, and you happily returned it. His lips were soft this time, and his kiss tender. Your smile didn’t fade when he pulled away.

“How is your night so far?”

“Wonderful,” you giggled, “Yours?”

"You're the wonderful in my night," he whispered before kissing you again.

i'm a bit insecure about this one, but i'm also extremely tired

thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

and if you care to, buy me a coffee<33

395 notes · View notes

aqua-the-smiter · 18 days

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✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ℑ𝔯𝔬𝔫 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 Ferrus Manus x female oc (Argena Seeva) Other parts in the reblogs Ferrus, in a bid to one up his pain-in-the-ass brother Fulgrim, takes up drawing. Gets some reference help from his long suffering friend and senechal, Argena. Part of my AU I have cleverly called the Primarch Wife AU. Happy endings, the boys get the help they need, Big E is a good dad and, most importantly, everybody gets a wife. Because big husband and small wife makes brain go brr

Sexual content/NSFW after the cut - Very lewd-but-not-lewd touching, Ferrus jacking off to his future wife while trying to get work done, idiots in love. @thevoidscreams @pringles-plaguehaus ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ “Gena?” Ferrus asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “I have a…strange favor to ask of you.” Argena put down the loop of silver she’d been polishing and turned around on her stool to face him as she heard him out. Throne, he even looked uncomfortable, and she wondered what exactly he needed that he was looking so hot under the collar. Ferrus Manus was many things, but wavering was not one of them. Actually he was kind of cute like that. She mentally slapped herself almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. HE. IS. YOUR. BOSS. She’d been with him for over a year and half at this point. It felt like it should have been longer. Falling into the role of his senechal had been so easy after a while. Especially after they’d started spending more time simply enjoying each other’s company. He was a surprisingly layered man once he opened up enough to show it. And, she heavily suspected, a lonely one too. So they’d gotten close more easily than she would have first thought. It even showed in the way he addressed her. Gena, a more tender nickname than her given. “Does it have anything to do with your ongoing attempts to one up your brother?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It does, yes. Look, I can’t help it. Fulgrim has been driving me mad recently, so I want to pay him back in kind.” “I know, I know. And if you pull it off you’ll make him absolutely seethe.” “It” in question was Ferrus putting a serious effort into learning how to draw. He could already, but it was an entirely different kind. Technical drawings, machine blueprints, weapon schematics. Nothing really artistic, although it could be counted as a form of art in its own right if you asked her. Watching him work was hypnotic, the movement of the pencil or stylus in his metal hands impossibly graceful. Elegant even. But most people didn’t see it that way. Resident artsy fuck, Fulgrim, certainly didn’t. Constantly making little jabs and jokes at his best friend’s inability to produce anything else than purely practical drawings. Finally, Ferrus had enough and announced to her in private that he was going to produce a piece of actual art better than anything Fulgrim could do (and he wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was, including himself) out of pure brotherly spite. The early results were rough, but promising. Argena herself had quite a bit of skill, picked up from her goldsmithing hobby, and he’d come to her with practice sketches, rudimentary shapes and simple three dimensional objects. It took him a while, but he was definitely getting it. His talent for technical drawings was beginning to shine through with the clean linework. In short, it seemed he might actually do it. “That is the goal.” He said, just a little smug. “So what do you need me for, pray tell my lord?” She prompted. The Primarch seemed to steel himself for a moment. “Well…I feel I’m ready to move on to…organic materials now. I can only draw my own tools so much before I cease to learn any more from the exercise. I was going to ask if I could study you. Your anatomy, I mean.” And it already sounded like that would involve less clothes than she started with that day. “...Study my anatomy? How so? Moreover, why?”

“Feel up your body. Your muscles, skeletal structure, general build. How everything connects and moves together. I find that I learn best when I am up to the elbows in it so to speak, so being able to touch it would be the best thing. You are the only person I feel comfortable coming to with this. It is, ultimately, quite a petty thing I’m after. You have been very understanding of me. More than I thought would be possible.” Ferrus paused for a moment, wondering if what he had to say next was even a good idea before deciding he’d take that chance. “Also, you are objectively a very beautiful woman. Whatever someone’s personal tastes may be, nobody could look at you and deny it. And subjectively, I think you are a beautiful woman. For those reasons you’d make the best subject for what I’m trying to accomplish. If the goal of art is to create something pleasing to the eye, something that captures the beauty of the world and the enthusiasm of the creator in a still image, you would be a perfect basis. Not like the mess of colors and lines Fulgrim throws on his canvases.” He spoke so frankly. Ferrus was always a very no-nonsense type of person, but to have that direct, blunt nature used in such a glowing description of her was something else entirely. Because you knew for a fact when he said something, he meant it. It made her feel very warm inside. “And this is purely for research, right?” She asked tentatively. “Purely objective.” He swore. “And I won’t go any farther than you want or touch you anywhere you don’t want to be touched. I’ll fill in any gaps in my knowledge with an anatomy book. Just tell me where to stop, and I will.” Somehow a Primarch who’d grown up in the wilderness eating sand had a better concept of boundaries than many people. “Well...I trust you, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” She said after a moment, rubbing her upper arm. “I’m willing. Let’s do it.” He gave her one of his rare smiles (that seemed to be becoming less rare nowadays come to think of it), genuinely grateful. It made her feel more at ease with the agreement. Who knows, it might even be fun. ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #warhammer 40k x oc #primarch x oc #primarch x female oc #mating press march #ferrus manus #ferrus manus x oc #ferrus manus x female oc

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1000punks · 5 days

Text

A Wilderness Of Sweets: Book I

masterlist.

pairing: named!Tav (non-binary OC) x Raphael

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. orgasm denial. rough sex. size difference. hate(?) sex.

word count: 3453

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

Festé enjoyed the understanding that they had with the cambion, though they knew it had an expiry date. They sighed softly as they studied Raphael from across the lance board. That date was drawing nearer as the weight of knowledge of the Elder Brain bore down on the tiefling and their companions. They glanced down at the small table between the two of them, taking in the wine, the modestly sized but expensive plate of food, and the handful of gold. The devil was hedonistic, to be sure, and had insisted always on putting a sum of money on each game of lance they played together. Festé usually, and humbly, lost; but Raphael had been uncharacteristically good-natured about their victories as well. Hedonistic, though Raphael hadn't so much as touched them since their last coupling. Absently, the imp moved their last piece as they glanced out the window. He had secured a win several moves before, and it was getting late.

"Leaving so soon, little mouse?" He broke the silence with a low murmur, raising his eyes to theirs. "You know I enjoy our secluded visits, my dear." A smirk crept over his features, and his tone was non-threatening. "As always, you have a most welcome place here, if you so desire. Or something more comfortable, if you prefer." Festé was halfway out of their chair as Raphael gestured around the Devil's Den. They squinted at him, knowing he was referring to the House of Hope. Usually, he made both offers; and usually, the tiefling politely declined both. Tonight, they sat back down before they could comprehend what possessed them to do so.

"I'll bite, Raphael," they spoke calmly. "But we should talk first." The devil looked mildly intrigued at that, and gestured for them to continue before folding his arms over his chest. Festé mirrored him, and decided to lay it plainly. "I can't abide by the deal that you're offering me, you know that. You must know that." Raphael nodded, and opened his mouth to answer before relenting with a furrowed brow and a crooked smile. "You know, Raphael, that I will likely be the one responsible for your death?" The devil looked pensive, standing and walking to the window. He crossed his arms behind his back, watching the sky for a long time as the sun began to set beyond the reach of the bridge. Festé was patient, gazing at his back and studying the set of his shoulders. Finally, he turned back to the tiefling, jerking his chin.

"Come to me, little mouse," he said firmly, and they got to their feet, crossing the room. Raphael raised his hand as they approached, resting it at the small of their back when they stood at his side. The touch startled Festé, but they dared not show it. He offered them a smirk nonetheless before turning back to the window. "Into this wild abyss the wary Fiend stood on the brink of Hell, and looked a while," he gestured out to the bay with his right hand, his voice sultry yet commanding. "Pondering his…. voyage," a sidelong glance at the tiefling had a familiar pang rising in their belly. "For no narrow frith he had to cross." The tiefling held the silence for a moment, before edging closer against his side. His arm wound around their hips, albeit slowly.

"Speak plainly," they asked, "For me? Please?"

"I am angry, my dear. Angry that you've chosen this route," the cambion sighed harshly. "I cannot fathom what assumptions you've made, when all you should assume is that you would be well-compensated- No, well taken care of if you hand me the Crown." He turned them and gripped them by the shoulders tightly. They glanced down briefly before returning their gaze to his eyes. They were surprised to find a certain softness in them, and to their chagrin, a soft gasp escaped their lips. Raphael seemed unmoved by the sound, and continued. "However. You have allowed me to lavish gifts and my precious time upon you; and you have indulged me, well…" He closed his eyes for a moment, one hand moving to grip the tiefling's jaw. "You have indulged me, dear one. I will retaliate in a swift and appropriate fashion, when the time comes."

"I understand," Festé answered simply, and his brow furrowed once again. "Do you want me to leave you for the night, Raphael?" They raised a hand, resting it lightly on the cambion's wrist.

"I do not," he scoffed. Festé could see the hurt in his eyes at the mere suggestion. "In fact, do you not owe it to me to indulge me just a little further?" They tilted their head and shrugged, smiling sadly. It happened suddenly, the cambion's hand closed around their throat; and he was kissing them forcefully, searching for dominance. The tiefling yielded, pushing up on their toes as their arms wrapped over his shoulders, and the kiss turned possessive. Raphael locked his free arm around their waist, pulling them tightly against him for a moment before he pushed them away forcefully.

Festé sighed out, accustomed to the hot and cold treatment when it came to intimacy with the cambion. "I suppose you want to make a deal," they said after a moment of studying his hardened expression. "A deal for the night, and one that benefits you. Should we agree that you can have anything from me that you would ask of a lover?" The devil's brown eyes narrowed, raking over their body before fixing on their own, and Festé closed the distance between them again. And so the waltz began.

"A lover, little mouse? Is that truly what you believe you are to me?" The harsh words were contrasted by his soft tone, and he rested his hands on their hips.

"If not a lover, then what am I to you, Raphael? Have I not shared a bed with you before?" They countered, calm as you please, resting their palms against his chest.

"What do you get out of this, besides assuaging your own guilt?" He raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smirk turning up one corner of his mouth.

"Nothing; and make no mistake, I will walk out of this room feeling more guilty than when I walked in." Festé sighed again, looking down. It was the truth, and they owed him that much.

He reached for their chin, tilting their head up and narrowing his eyes. "Why is that, exactly?" His voice was softer, but had a dangerous edge to it.

"You haven't ever lied to me," Festé said simply. "Even when it would benefit you to do so. I came to value that, Raphael; and I came to see you as a friend, in a way. Handing you… Handing anyone that much power, though, I just…" Raphael's hand came to rest against their cheek. "I'm upset to have to make an enemy of you, I didn't want this."

"But alas, little mouse; you have a saviour complex," he chided, wrinkling his nose. "You can't save me, so you must kill me instead. What a darling, tragic hero you are." He tutted and patted their cheek firmly. "Very well, lovers we shall be; until dawn strikes, at least." The devil moved back from them then, turning away. Festé watched as he crossed the floor, snapping his fingers while he faced them and made to sit. A large bed appeared from thin air, breaking his fall. "What are you waiting for?" he said. "Come to me." He patted the bed next to him, raising an eyebrow. Festé obliged, walking slowly to the bed and sitting down. The bedding was every bit as luxurious as in the House of Hope, and it had the tiefling smirking.

"A little piece of home, Raphael?" They reached for his hand, which rested atop the duvet; and it tensed when they touched it. "You're not… nervous, are you?" They leaned close, tilting their head to get a better look at the cambion's expression. He scowled at them, but remained silent, gripping their hand tightly. Festé reached up to take his other hand, resting it on their knee. He seemed to relax at that, and slid it up their thigh slowly as he leaned toward the imp. Their lips crashed like waves, and Festé wound their fingers into the devil's hair. They kissed him fervently for a moment, lips glancing off the corner of his mouth with a harsh sigh when they pulled away. "Wait, mmh… you don't have to keep that form for me, if you want to change, I don't…" Raphael shushed them, pulling them firmly to him by the front of their shirt and biting at their bottom lip. Their eyes fluttered closed for a moment before they attempted to pull away. He didn't allow it, pushing the tiefling to their back by their throat; and caging them with his body against the bed, kissing them hungrily. He hadn't been so brazen last time, the imp thought, squirming when Raphael pushed his knee between their thighs. Suddenly, he straightened up, kneeling on the bed and lifting his hand from their throat.

"You'll do anything I say, little mouse? Truly?" Festé leaned up on their elbows, nodding silently. "Then sit up, and unbutton this," he spoke softly, eyes burning as he regarded them. Cautiously, they brought one hand to his chest, fingernails catching the fabric of the doublet he wore. The tiefling sat up fully, not breaking eye contact as they undid the buttons deftly. Raphael gave but a small smirk of approval, allowing them to continue by way of unlacing his shirt and pushing it open. The imp smoothed their palm over his chest while he shed the doublet and shirt fully, tossing both both aside and pushing into their personal space. "I want to take my time with you, imp," his words sounded vaguely threatening, but his hands were gentle, unlacing their shirt in turn and discarding it. "It certainly is interesting how quiet and obedient you are when your body isn't drenched in incubus spittle; isn't it, Festé?" The tiefling blushed, and the devil dragged his fingers down their sternum. "Though, I doubt you will be any less pliant under my hands alone, mm?"

Festé felt a swell of defiance at his words, and opened their mouth to retort, but let out a soft moan of pain as Raphael pressed his thumb against their ribs. They glanced down to see a purpling bruise under their left breast, one that they had disregarded earlier. The cambion was studying it, tracing the edges with a look of muted interest. "You are so painfully mortal, my dear. How exactly do you expect to get along without my help?" He tutted, and they sensed that he wasn't seeking an answer. His free hand found the small of their back, and he drew them close against him, finding an even larger bruise under their shoulderblade. Festé breathed out harshly into the crook of his neck, and Raphael chuckled. It almost felt tender, the way he held them to his chest, until the searing heat startled them. "There. You like me better this way, do you not?" He lowered his head, murmuring huskily against their ear. "I can so easily break you like this, little mouse. And yet…"

"And yet, you don't," Festé finished, looking up at the devil when he sat up to his full height once more. "Or you won't. I've already told you that I trust you, Raphael, I-" he silenced them with two fingers against their lips before he snapped his fingers once more. They squirmed again, sitting back and considering their now-bare thighs for a brief moment before the cambion lay hands on them once more, pulling at their hips and guiding them into his lap. Their hands found his shoulder, and they watched his wings flex behind him when they dragged their fingers up the sides of his neck. The cambion made a noise, a deep rumbling in his chest between a growl and a sigh; and he splayed his hand against Festé's back. The tiefling leaned in, kissing up Raphael's neck slowly before taking his flesh between their teeth. He dragged his fingers lightly over their back, claws threatening to slice into their hips when he gripped them tightly.

"What a tender pet you are, imp," the devil murmured, pushing his fingers into the hair at the nape of Festé's neck, drawing their head back slowly. "Not unlike a lamb calmly being led to the slaughter." He smirked at them, eyes burning brightly in the fading sunlight. "Move against me, little lamb… That's it." Raphael urged their hips forward slowly with one hand, and their own hands slid up his back slowly for support. "Look at you clinging, my dear; isn't that just precious?" he growled softly, and the tiefling shuddered out a breath, keeping their eyes locked on his. He put more pressure on their hip, forcing them to grind slowly against his length, and chuckled when they pressed their fingernails into his back. "Keep going," he said, voice nothing more than a smoky whisper as he slowly rolled his hips up to theirs.

Festé indulged him, struggling to push their knees into the mattress and adjust themself in the devil's lap, but managing to sit up. They stretched up and brushed their nose against his as they rutted their hips, their eyes hooded as the friction began to feel pleasurable. They dared a kiss, a messy peck at the corner of his lips before he captured theirs with his own, chuckling deeply when he heard their breathing speed up. The waltz continued that way for some time, until Festé could feel how soaked the insides of their thighs had become, and let out a pleading moan into Raphael's mouth. He pulled away, pressing his forehead to theirs for a moment, voice husky and quiet when he spoke again.

"Oh, don't tell me you tire of the teasing, little mouse," he tutted, "I am merely giving you a taste of your own medicine. Is it not to your liking?" The cambion smiled, moving both hands to their hips and lifting them from his lap. Festé's head dropped to his shoulder, and they were panting, letting out a pained moan as they felt the threatening push between their legs. They realized, too late, that their last coupling had occurred after Haarlep had worked them over with his tongue; and the stretch as Raphael pushed in was almost blinding, choking them off into silence. "Now, little one, it would behoove you to move very slowly." The tiefling nodded frantically, digging their nails into the cambion's back. "Breathe, little mouse," he whispered, supporting most of their weight with his hands. They drew in a shaky breath, and he lowered the imp slowly back to rest in his lap. The feeling had Festé panting into the devil's neck, and they writhed when they felt his hand rest on their back once more.

"Don't hurt me, please," the tiefling whispered, and Raphael tensed for a brief moment. He scoffed audibly, rubbing over their back.

"Hurt you? I wouldn't dream of it, pet. Not tonight." A soft chuckle, and a shift of his hips forced a low moan from their lips, and they curled up instinctively before planting their knees on the mattress once more. They looked up to see Raphael gazing at them with one eyebrow raised, and he held their hips once more as they began to move on his length. His face didn't betray any pleasure from the act, besides the way his lips parted when Festé reached up and wound their fingers into his hair. They tugged lightly, and the devil laughed from deep in his chest. "What is it, dear one? Do you want me to sing your praises for taking me so sweetly?" His eyes burned and narrowed when they sank down fully in his lap with a soft groan of pleasure, grinding their hips forward.

"No," they gritted out, "I'm making well on our deal, Raphael. Let me kiss you as a lover would." The tiefling stretched up, breathing out their words hotly against his cheek. They felt him relax, and he turned to kiss them firmly, holding the back of their neck. He breathed out harshly from his nose, and his wings flexed again, startling Festé as they settled into a rhythm. Suddenly, his claws seemed hungry with the way they bit into the imp's hip, urging their movements. They took the pain in stride, pressing against him fully as they licked into his mouth; letting his tongue muffle their moans. He pulled away slowly. Reluctantly.

"Keep going," Raphael drawled, clawing up their back and making Festé arch as they continued to ride him. "I want to hear you cry and beg to be bred when you clench around me, lover." The tiefling whimpered, surprising themself, and buried their face in the cambion's shoulder. Hellfire itself began to spread from their belly to their chest, and he was holding them in place, chuckling as they writhed in his grip. They ground their hips desperately, moaning out in frustration as he tantalized them with release. There was only one thing they could do.

"Please," Festé begged; and indeed, they were clenching around Raphael's length. They let their mouth hang open slightly, biting into their bottom lip before breathing out, "Please breed me, Raphael." The devil threw his head back and laughed, pulling them up from his lap. They had but a moment to appreciate the way his cock dragged along their insides before the tiefling was clenching and twitching softly around nothing. He pushed them to their back, pinning them by the neck as he continued to chuckle lightly.

"Come now, you little imp," he growled, crawling over them. "You can beg much more sweetly than that." Festé lay there, shaking, as the heat receded behind their navel. Raphael's free hand spread over their stomach, massaging it slowly; and they whimpered softly as their eyes met his. Their hands fisted in the bedding, and they pressed up to his touch, praying silently for any friction he would allow them.

"Please, Raphael…" the imp reached out, their hand shaking, and dragged their fingers over his chest. "Have a heart, Raphael, breed your fucktoy," they all but spat, tilting their head and wetting their lips with their forked tongue. He smirked at that, and lined himself up with their entrance. A soft sigh escaped his lips when he pushed inside them once more. He seemed to melt, caging them with his body and letting his head drop. Festé watched as his wings relaxed, breathing deeply as Raphael began to move his hips languidly. Gingerly, the tiefling lifted their thighs and crossed their ankles at the small of his back. They sighed out, resting their hand against the cambion's cheek, and flinched when his head snapped up. His eyes were hooded, and he planted one hand above their shoulder forcefully before grunting out a moan, leaning his head to their touch. The cambion wore a tortured expression, his thrusts gradually becoming ragged as he raked his eyes over Festé's face and chest.

"You…" Raphael breathed, shifting his weight. Festé twitched below him, watching the claw come down. Their eyes fluttered closed as he squeezed their throat, grinding up against him. "You ruin me, little mouse," he murmured, and then fell silent. The imp opened their eyes only to see a flash of the devil's pointed teeth, gasping when he released their throat to slip his arms under their shoulders. He cradled them, almost tenderly, hissing quiet as night, "Da laz picy py wih zmiz xe dazy haf."

"Xe salz," they breathed, hot over his cheek. "Yaf saldvl'z yjyl uo xe kyqqyv." He chuckled darkly, knotting his fingers in their hair and biting possessively at the imp's shoulder. Festé tensed, moaning freely and wrapping their arms over his shoulders. They couldn't tell when he broke, they only felt a rush of heat between their bodies, and Raphael holding them too tightly. He stilled above them, but for small movements of his hips, as he met his end inside them. The imp could only answer his uneven, rasping breaths with their own; the friction sending shocks through their chest, but never tipping them over the edge. A whine escaped their lips.

Raphael lay them down, spreading his hand over their stomach as he looked over them. "Do not look so defeated, little hero," he chided, pressing the heel of his palm below their navel. "I will take you many more times before dawn greets us."

notes:

firstly, thank you for reading this, and for also supporting the first installment of this little devil fic series, Of Paradise For Hell ! you rock!

i need to give credit to whoever created the infernal translator, you saved my life here!

R: "Do not make me say that I love you."

F: "I won't." "You wouldn't even if I begged."

#.txt #.fic #fic: a wilderness of sweets #oc: festé #raphael #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x named!tav #raphael x oc

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