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hoseoksluna · 2 months

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BANANA MILK | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut, a tiny bit of angst

word count: 5.6k

summary: when a porn video accidentally plays on his tv, jungkook makes sure you watch.

playlist: banana milk / pinterest board: wine

warnings: forced and consensual porn watching, crotch grinding, dom/sub dynamics, plenty of desperation, praise and degradation, reader has daddy issues (like the writer,) oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, biting, pet names and a particular title used, handjob, plushie used during intercourse, spanking, raw sex, squirting, size kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

note: this can be read as a standalone, however it's a part two of my fic 'wine'. you guys asked for it and i delivered. <3 i wrote this entire fucking thing in a trace and on my phone, and i still don't understand how i managed to do that. even though i struggled in the beginning, i enjoyed writing this as soon as i got into it. there will be a part three as well—from jungkook's pov. so as you read, look forward to it next sunday. let me know what you think in the comments, don't be shy! mwah ᡣ𐭩

Following the shapes of the sunlight on the parquet floors, your small feet are warm. The clicking of fingers on a sleek keyboard takes you, momentarily, into a hazy frame of mind. You feel as though you’re in a novel yourself, and the sound is a mere announcement that your steps, calculated in depth—thought through, plotted, and cared for—are counted by the man a few feet away from you, the writer, the long lost poet. Counted patiently throughout the rising action until they reach, at last, the climax. The notion unfolds within you, unfurls little by little in a way that you like, for it makes you feel exceptionally alive and poetic. It casts a languorous smile upon your shimmery face. Perhaps it’s due to the double meaning because you’re here for a reason. Or perhaps you owe that smile to the easy joy blooming in your chest, one that was sown hardly an hour ago.

You were in a bookstore, skimming through a paperback that enveloped you in blue dreaminess. The language you had the honor to graze with the pad of your finger was flowery in a way that stirred something within you—something that is noticeably sprouting to life. The furniture of the room was dark and antique under the yellow dimmed light, very much like the one you have at home. It was so you, a true personification of your whole being that made it quite difficult to leave, even though you had something to look forward to.

You were convinced it was your home.

A home that you came around to for the first time in your life—how strange.

You bought the book. It had to be yours, and you had to have a keepsake, a direct link to your hideaway. You set it by the wall next to your shoes and your purse with a pink photocard holder, pulling out a certain bottle of happiness that you brought along for your friend.

The sunlight strips take you straight to him, your feet—kissed by the sun—padding softly on the floor; the third step of the rising action. Jungkook sits slumped on his coffee brown couch with his laptop propped on his lap. His shoulders, clad in a denim sweatshirt, hunch in ever persistent concentration, a Word document opened and being swiftly filled with Hangul. Persistent enough that he doesn’t twist his head to greet you. He knows you’re there. Heard the sweet sing-song beep of his passcode being accepted, letting you in into his solitary life. Knows you didn’t forget it this time because he didn’t have to stand to his feet to open the door for you as he so often did in the past.

You wrap your arms around his neck from the back, tits squished against the nape from the low neckline you chose to wear for the day. It shreds his concentration to smithereens; you feel him inhale raggedly through his nose, fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard. You press your lips against his scarred cheek, not as plump as they usually are because they are still pulled taut into a smile, and whisper, “hi, Ggukie.”

He turns his head to face you from the side.

“Hi,” he breathes. There are peachy specks of glitter scattered all over your eyelids and you watch him study them, round eyes flicking between each one of them as if he can’t get enough of them—as if there are more for him to greet the more he looks.

And he’s right. There are.

His tender mien causes your heart to clench, overflow with a continual stream of endearment for him. You notice the mark of your guileless kiss on the apple of his cheek, the lip gloss pink and glimmering. Decide to leave it there. Decide it suits him well.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do.

He drifts the pad of his thumb along that delicate skin. Not to disturb the artwork, no. But to acquaint himself further with it. It’s been a long time since you wore glitter. It’s been equally as long since you were this happy—he senses it, the little iridescent stars tell him somehow. There’s so much of it that when he lifts the digit, the eye makeup stays intact, as if he hadn’t touched it at all. Jungkook flicks his eyes to the craftwork of his stained fingertip, the glitter, the stars nuzzling homely within the lines. Smiles as he mumbles, “pretty.”

You kiss him airily as a thank you. No hands, not anything. Just your lips puckering from the little distance between the pair of you. You retrieve the bottle of happiness from your back pocket and hold it against his hard chest.

Confusingly, with lips rounded, Jungkook looks down and gasps.

Banana milk.

“Come here.”

He hauls you down onto his lap like you weigh nothing, his laptop pushed away to the cold side of the couch. You squeal, pulling your hair as you lay against them and try to find a better position, discomfort painting your features in a way that makes Jungkook scrunch his nose adorably. He lifts your neck and gathers your hair, smoothing it down on the leather. You look up at him. The stars have migrated to your glossy eyes.

“Where’s yours?” he asks, hand placed on the crown of your head, the other clutching the chunky bottle protectively like a child.

“I already drank mine.”

Jungkook pierces the paper lid with the slim straw and takes a sip. Lowers it until it pokes you in the line of your lips. Nods at you, encouraging you to drink.

Your heart clenches again, and the thoughtful gesture makes it swell. It suddenly feels like your chest is very tight, like there’s no space for your organs. You massage the feeling away, wrapping your lips around the plastic, taking a few sips. No hands, not anything.

“You’re a sweet boy,” you whisper, a dollop of the creamy liquid adorning the oily pinkness of your lips.

A bright blush creeps along his cheeks, settling along the bridge of his nose as it ever so often does. Gazes down at you, then at your lips. Scrunches his nose again as he shakes his head, bending to peck you delicately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, cleaning you up. His habit at this point.

“I’m a man.”

Your face grows hot. The imprint of your lip gloss stained his mouth and it worsens your state, deepens your dreaminess. You’re leaving small parts of your being as marks on him. You find that beautiful, in all its simplicity.

“Sweet and pretty,” you add in a hushed whisper, more to yourself than him.

Twinkles, akin to your glitter, flood his eyes and they deepen in thought. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when he drifts the palm of his hand down your throat, curling around your collarbones, you realize he’s having flashbacks.

Wine. Neck. Tongue.

The cause and effect on your panties in mere seconds.

Your helplessness. The way you apologized for coming because you weren’t allowed.

Jungkook smirks and so do you. Lets his palm roam down to your tits, discovers only with the lift of his finger that you’re wearing a lacy blue bralette under your top.

“So easy to pull to the side,” he comments, more to himself than you. Doesn’t look at you when he begins to fondle them, transfixed by their fullness.

“That was my—”

“How was your day?” he cuts in, a breathy concoction of a hiss and a moan escaping his mouth once he feels your nipples stiffen under his hand. Index and thumb come and squeeze at that nub, coaxing a hum out of you.

Your brain degrades slowly but surely, metamorphosing into mush. You struggle with your memory, abruptly unable to remember where you were and what you did before you were half spread across his lap.

“Good,” you try. “Fantastic, actually.”

Jungkook smiles. Pinches your nipple again, fingers pressing flat and moving up and down. You moan out for him, writhing in a newly, softly burning desire.

“Really?”

“Yeah, went to the bookstore.”

Did you?

“Bought anything?”

His hand drifts back to your neck, never losing skin-to-skin contact, wraps around the column, then goes back down to your tit. This time, to your neglected one. Gives it the same attention.

You don’t remember if you bought anything.

Zoning out, you focus on the pleasure, fluttering your eyes closed. Figure this is just a meaningless talk that doesn’t require truthful answers or any for that matter. You widen your legs, calling out for his touch there. This is what you came here for. He doesn’t need to know about the itty-bitty parts of your soul.

Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you up, guiding you to straddle him. You poke the banana milk, propped against the backrest, with your knee. Despite your now lustful haze, you’re careful not to knock it over.

A billow of the whole night lines his eyelashes, arousal blanketing his irises. You run your hand through his hair—can’t help yourself, you’re just obeying your body’s intimate wishes—and tip his head back, his soft strands sifting through your fingers. You draw near to his slightly parted mouth as if to kiss him, but you’re here just to tease him, to make him want more just like he did to you, hovering your lips above his. His slowly quickening inhales add much to your wooziness and you go to hide in the crook of his neck, but he stops you dead in your tracks when he says, “you came here to get fucked, didn’t you?”

Your laughter is but a breath. “How did you know?”

You kiss him there, incorporating your tongue, sucking the sensitive skin for a mere beat of time. And just like him, you discover why he likes kissing your neck as much as he does.

A film of goosebumps shrouds the small portion of the exposed skin of his chest that you’re allowed to see. Jungkook moans lowly, gripping your ass and pulling you closer to his semi-hard crotch, sinking lower into the cushion. Eager hands hook under the hem of your top and fling it out of you, latching onto the back of your neck and drawing you to his face.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He begins to talk.

“I waited for you all fucking day,” he murmurs against your lips, sucking in a breath of air as if there wasn’t enough in his lungs, as if voicing out his desire exerted his energy.

“All I could think about were those fucking tits,” he confesses. “Those hips of yours, so small in my hands. That pussy, fuck. I wanna eat it,” he groans, furrowing his eyebrows. “God, I wanna eat it.”

You nod to each and every word of his, grinding your pelvis against his, mewling into his mouth.

“You understand what I’m saying to you, don’t you?”

You nod again, your body begging you to be allowed to arch your back, but the grip Jungkook has on your neck prevents it from happening. The fire of desire burns bright, made bigger and blue by his spluttering sparks.

“‘Course you do, you’re my good little girl, aren’t you? Smart and educated,” he praises and your walls clench. “Let me eat your little pussy.”

“Please,” is all you manage to utter before he holds you steady by the waist and lays you down on the couch.

Your shoulder blade hits the remote control and a sudden echo of a girl’s moan booms through the room. Both of your heads swing to the TV to see a girl humping her teddy bear, barren down to her full femininity except for her panties. She plays with her nipples, pulling on them while flicking her hair back, hips rapidly moving back and forth on the nose of her big fluffy friend. Mesmerized and completely sobered up from your drunkenness, your clit gains a heartbeat, your teeth sinking into the bottom of your lip.

Jungkook hastily rummages around you to find the remote. You stop him.

“Leave it on.”

He blinks at you, mouth agape. You smile at him, thumb brushing along his knuckles as you take the remote from him and place it on the coffee table. The gesture smooths down the wrinkle between his brows. His blush deepens, the color of roses stunning you.

Undoing your jeans, he pulls down your zipper. “You want me to eat you out while you watch porn?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

Jungkook sighs, sagging your pants down to the middle of your thighs. “Don’t call me sir or I’ll fuck you in the ass right here, right now.”

“Hurry, she’s almost done.”

He spanks you harshly and you squirm, quickly reminded of his need to be in control, but he listens to your need. Rewinds the video back. Slaps the remote back down onto the wood of the coffee table, which makes you burst into giggles and Jungkook smirks, folding you in half, dragging your panties to your jeans pooling above your knees. The center sticks to your core, causing him to growl, hand coming to wipe at the corners. The girl hops on the teddy bear. Moans fill your ears.

He kisses your clit. Pinches the back of his sweatshirt and hurls it at your head, obscuring your view. You huff in frustration, throwing it back at him, but he catches it. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“You should focus.”

“You going all in for me?” you ask, speaking of his nakedness.

Clothes come off on the verge of his climax, never before it; it’s so unlikely of him to discard himself so quickly. He usually keeps at least one item of clothing on, too hasty—too hungry to bother, until he can’t take the heat anymore.

“For you always.”

He dives into your pussy, tongue licking against your folds, nose pressed against your mound, inhaling you. Going up and down, he drinks you. Moans at the taste, eyes lidded and drunk as he stares at you through the little opening of your barely parted legs. You wish to spread them wider, the pleasure forces you to, but you can’t—the tight fabric won’t grant you the satisfaction.

“Take it off of me,” you whine.

He comes up for air. “No.”

You whine louder, fingers grasping at the waistband. Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them down to the cushion, thumbs resting in the middle of your palms. He doesn’t let a drop of you go to waste, sheathes his tongue into your warmth as he fucks you, nose rubbing against your engorged clit. You tip your head back, lose a sight of him for a moment, digits naturally wrapping around his thumbs like a baby. A litany of curse words, broken by your moans that sync to the girl’s sounds of pleasure, fall from your mouth. You don’t even look at her, too busy—too distracted by the man below you, by the way his open mouth works against you, his dimples hollowing into straight lines, so akin to the sunlight strips that led you to him, as he flicks his tongue against your clit.

You brush your fingers through his hair again, hold it at the roots through the small hole between your thighs. It provokes him enough that he looks up at you and finds you staring back at him. He growls against your cunt, a warning, the vibrations sending you back. Your eyes roll into your head and your hips follow, grinding into his glistening face.

Jungkook hums. Sticks around to see if you’re watching the porn, slowing down the pace of his flicks.

You’re not.

Coming down from that wave, your eyes set back down on him.

Jungkook peels his mouth off of you. Bends over you and grips your neck, pushing you down. The other hand spreads your slick all over your cunt, gliding back and forth. No pressure, not anything. Hearing your squelching noises, he mimics you. Also rolls his eyes back. Awakens the butterflies in your tummy.

“Focus,” he hisses.

You mewl. Ride his fingers to at least feel something, but you achieve nothing of the like.

He spanks your pussy, another warning.

You don’t listen. Can’t take your eyes off of him. Of the disheveled mess on top of his head, the sweat that pools at his hairline, the disarrange of his thick eyelashes from having his lids closed against your skin, the sheen of his nose, the wet puffiness of his lips, the kiss mark on his cheek. You take a deep breath.

It’s impossible to focus on someone else other than him. Especially when he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue sailing around the arc of his lips—the arc of your character development. Swallows the dewiness he called out like teacher to pupil.

You were a virgin when you met him. It was him who taught your body to get messy for him like this. His tongue that tasted your girlishness first. All your first times were with him and continue to be under his ever strict but safe supervision.

Under his custody in a way. You do call him Daddy after all.

“I missed your cuntie so much,” he husks, tightening his grip a tiny bit to emphasize the importance of his words. “But I can’t eat it if you don’t watch.”

His index finger turns your head to the side and his other hand travels down to your wet heat. The girl clutches her friend’s fur in her fist and fucks him slowly. With each roll of her hips upwards, you can see the shine of her slick adorning her folds. Jungkook sinks two digits inside. Can barely fit them in due to the way you clench around him. You fight his hold against your cheek, needing to look at him.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers. “My horny little baby.”

He keeps them there, at the beginning of your hole, pumping sluggishly. Doesn’t look at the girl. Didn’t do so ever since the video started playing. His eyes only drink in your reactions, the twist of your features, the little sounds and breaths that break out of your mouth, gracing his ears, making his cock hard.

It disturbs something within you. Stirs it to life. Kindles it radiantly, adjoining it to the fire of your desire. You know what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to accept it. It’s a feigned reality, one of a novel. Not the one that could ever be applied to your life, burst at the seam, engulf the radius until it absorbs you.

You’re not that lucky. You’re not lucky to have him in that way.

You’re lucky enough to have him physically connected to you once a week.

But emotionally?

Tears prick your waterline.

“I want your tongue on my clit,” you croak out, reckon it’s better that you listen to him, watch the girl make herself come, follow her footsteps and go home.

Distance is safe. Distance heals everything, particularly emotional attachments.

Jungkook ceases his slow movement. Lowers your legs down so they repose across his thighs. Strokes the tremble of your muscles, removing your jeans and your underwear. Keeps that dangly fabric hanging off of the edge of the coffee table. Caresses your face as he says, “Daddy wants that, too. So bad. But you gotta be my good little girl and watch it. Then Daddy will play with your little clit.”

“Okay.”

He settles back into his position between your legs, enfolds your thighs around his shoulders. Placing a tiny kiss on your pussy lips, the soft fleshiness of your thigh steals his attention. He begins to plant big, wet kisses there. Alternates between nibbles and those kisses, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make out.

The girl’s furry friend is drenched in her wetness. You buckle your hips with need.

“I want to hear your apology,” he orders, lips pressed against your skin.

You look at him and mewl.

“Eyes on the TV.”

He bites you.

You hiss in pain. “I’m sorry.”

He kisses the pain he caused. “What for?”

“For watching you,” you whisper, a lump forms in your throat and is softened by the look of endearment he gives you. Doesn’t reprimand you for keeping your eyes on him.

He latches onto the voluptuous part between your hip and thigh, marks you there. “And why did you watch me?”

You bite your lip to cage the words you really want to say behind your teeth, but some of them slip out. “Because you’re beautiful. Too distracting.” Because you look at me, and not at her.

Jungkook hums. Kitten licks your clit to reward you, lips wrapping around the bundle to suck it. Makes a sound of satisfaction, eyes closing to drown in the feeling. Lets go with a pop. Does it again. Suck. Pop. Suck. Pop.

You moan. Near to the last step of your rising action. One more and you’ll reach your climax. You keep your eyes peeled on the girl, her screams guiding you to that sweet release.

“My good little girl. Making me weak. Making me drunk,” he mutters against your pussy, blowing cool air against your dewiness; you shiver and he laughs softly. “Come for me, baby. Please.”

He sucks your clit again, but manages the pressure. Makes sure it’s light, so you enjoy it as much as he does.

“Keep watching it. You’re doing such a good job. Keep those pretty eyes on the TV.”

A new texture rubbing against your pussy surprises you and a moany gasp escapes you. You look down to find his dear Hello Kitty plushie in his hand and the different, rough sensation tears the rope in your belly.

“That’s it. Ride her. Fuck yeah. Make a mess on her for me. Good, good girl.”

You gush out, your orgasm taking over your body. Trembling, squirming, you thrash your hands in search of something stable that would help you ground yourself. Jungkook doesn’t slow down his movement but he finds your hand, finds the other one too, and pins them above your head. Bends over you and watches you closely, watches those waves surging through your body until they still.

He kisses you, then.

“Such a good girl for me. Well done.”

You struggle to catch your breath.

And there’s no oxygen left in your lungs when Jungkook begins to rock his hips against his plushie, the button of her nose pressing deliciously against your sensitive bundle. Your moans come out in staccatos, dry and breathless. Little squeaks of pleasure that make him crazy. Eyebrows furrowed, stare dark and fixed.

“Fuck, Jungkook. Oh, fuck.”

He laughs and you expect to be degraded, having realized that both of you forgot, for the first time in months, to do so, but he rams into her and nudges his nose against yours. Dimples prominent, mouth stretched into a grin. A sight to die for.

“I could come like this, baby. But I want to feel you. Need your little pussy around me. Might go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” he says hastily, chucking the plushie away. “They might lock me up.”

You might have wanted to go home, but who are you to deny him when he’s this desperate for you.

Butterflies swarm in your belly. And you laugh.

“Fuck me, baby. Come on,” you say, the pet name on your tongue scorching your whole body.

Jungkook hums, palms his hardness as the outline of his cock makes you salivate. While you reach for Hello Kitty to hug her because you need something solid to hold onto, he pulls out his heavy length out of his sweatpants. Wanting him naked, your fingers push down the material and you uncover that he’s not wearing any underwear.

You curse under your breath, your pussy drooling for you.

His member slaps against his stomach and you hiss, your saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. He grips himself, throws his head back. You focus on his red tip, on the evidence of his arousal agleam in the sudden shadows of the room. The video stopped playing; silence replaced it instead. You care very little for it, entranced by his manhood, by his defined abdomen, the hardness and roundness of his pecs and the small, singular mole right underneath. You find yourself longing to kiss it, swipe your tongue against it and you fulfill your body’s wishes.

You get on your knees. Hello Kitty falls in the middle of them. Jungkook curiously watches what you’re doing and when you do what you longed to do, he moans softly.

“Princess,” he sighs, moans again when you brush your fingertips against his nipple. “You make me feel so good.”

“Yeah?” you question, looking up at him, fingers tweaking his nipple and he vocally shows you how much he likes that.

His sounds of pleasure, the variety of pet names and praise makes you feel woozy all over again. Your pussy dampens the plush fabric, adding to the mess.

“Feel how hard you made me,” he whispers, guides your hand to his length, wrapping your fingers around his girth; you show him, too, how much you like that. “Spit on it.”

You don’t have to be told twice.

Spreading your liquid love all over him, you grip him tight beneath the mushroom to coax that delicious hiss you love hearing. You begin to move your hand from there, sliding his foreskin up and down. His groans are a panoply of pure beauty that you wish to own forever. You wish you could freeze time right now. Deem this is as close to paradise as you could ever get.

This is where you want to be, for all eternity.

You lick over his nipple and Jungkook sobs. Sounds just like you when he plays with you and it makes you sob just the same. You hold it in, though, think this is a time reserved for him only. Concentrate on flicking the nub to make him feel good, squeezing his tip. He deserves it.

“I’m gonna turn myself in,” Jungkook whines. “It’s your fault.” He kisses the top of your head. “You made me crazy.”

You laugh, quickening the pace of your hand that soon slows down when he sultrily orders, “hump her for me.”

“Fuck,” you let out, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “You want me to ride her?”

A rumble of agreement passes through his lips. “Make Daddy proud.”

You withdraw but Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“Keep your hand where it belongs.”

Your jaw falls open.

He guides you back where he wants you, meanwhile you rearrange the plushie and sit down on her nose, cringing at the cold wetness you left there.

You rock your hips once. The dull pleasure numbs your senses, electrifies your body. Before you’re even aware of it, you hump her like your life depends on it. Your hair lifts and falls around you gracefully in spite of your pace, little strays sticking to your flushed face.

“Slow down, fuck,” Jungkook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and wrist to stop you. “Slow, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You listen, even though it’s evident you don’t like it.

He chuckles. “Good job,” he praises. “Fix your face.”

You smile up at him, cracking into a gentle laughter. Out of breath, out of your mind.

“That’s it.”

He kisses your forehead. Reaches behind him and grabs the banana milk. Points the straw at your lips. You gulp it down loudly. Jungkook fixes your hair in the meantime.

Sitting down, he hauls you onto his lap. Your back presses against his chest, the tip of his shaft aiming at the middle of your belly. It scares you, how deep he can go and you turn your head to look at him with wide eyes.

He squeezes your tits, pulls the fabric to the side. Pinches both of your nipples at the same time before he kneads the flesh. Your roll your hips against his manhood, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“You’re just too small, aren’t you?” he whispers against your cheek.

You meow a soft sound that confirms his words.

“Won’t even fit in you. Need to stretch out you for me,” he says, hands traveling down your stomach. “Can you even take two fingers?”

There it is, the degradation. But it’s so tender that you can’t even believe your own ears. You mewl again, finding it so hot that he talks to you like this, knowing you took three of his fingers the last time he touched you.

“I can,” you say and there’s allure to your words, your pussy grinding against him.

He hums. Maneuvers you a little so his cock sits against your ass. Plays with your slick just to hear the filthy sound before he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. He curls them and is brutal as he pistons into you in fast jerks, the muscles in his biceps bulging. With his free hand, he makes sure you gaze at him and he nudges his nose with yours. His short breaths fan against your cupid’s bow and in return, you feed him your moans. He swallows each and every one, his pace never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your stream of pleasure shoots out onto the coffee table and Jungkook would miss it if his reflexes didn’t act out for him. He groans, strumming his fingers against your clit to prolong your orgasm, lifting you to ram his hard length into you.

You welcome him embarrassingly fast, smothering him until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Because he entered you mid climax, it triggers another one and you scream, thrash your body that he encages with his arms around you, one hand flying to your neck to keep you down. He presses his lips against your temple, lulls you with gentle sounds. Mutters apologetic words, words of encouragement, praise and reassurement. All while ramming his cock into you.

You’re forgetting the day and time. Hell, you’re forgetting your own age and name. All you know is dick.

His dick splitting you open as your head knocks back and forth.

He squishes your cheeks, pressing a kiss there, and it brings you back. You open your eyes, blink a few times. Yelp as he fucks you deeply and holds.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jungkook husks. “You always squirt for me, don’t you?”

You nod, dumbly. He plunges his fingers into your mouth to gather your saliva and takes them down to your clit. He rubs it, and he rubs it in fast circles. His other hand finds the soiled plushie and he crams her into your arms. You cuddle her, needing the comfort.

“If I had a vibrator, I’d keep it right here on your little clit the whole time and break you fucking apart.”

You clench around him, signaling him how much you like the idea.

“I know you’d like that. The thought of it won’t let me sleep. Might have to get it for you after all.”

Your surroundings are foggy. Another surge of orgasm reaches for you to get you. Your whole body shakes. You hug the plushie tighter.

You prop your feet on his muscular thighs and weakly, you snap your hips down on him, setting a steady pace that makes you see stars.

Jungkook ceases your movement. Grabs your waist tightly.

“Stop or I’ll come.”

You fight against him, pushing down on him. He lets you.

“You want Daddy to come for you?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close,” you squeak.

“Hold onto her then.”

He meets your thrust, groans at the impact, at the teamwork. Has a deathly grip on you and Hello Kitty that bruises you, stills you as he ruts into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive, abused femininity. You’re losing everything; you’re losing yourself in him, in his manhood, in his desire and pleasure. Submitting all that you are to him, willingly giving over all that you have left of your being. Knowing it will be safe, knowing you will be taken care of.

And with that you come, and you come hard. You coax his orgasm, beckon it out with the one final clench of your pussy around him. You milk him dry, stars clouding your vision and the warmth of his hot spurts of cum filling you to the brim. Jungkook whines.

He loses it completely.

Babbling sets of incoherent words against your cheek, he kisses you there, drags his kisses down to your jaw and your neck, squeezing you and Hello Kitty in his arms as his cock stays sheathed inside of you.

Two things you do make out when you come down.

A string of pet names directed to you. A bunch of ‘baby’, ‘princess’, ‘little girl’, all held close by the prefix of ‘my’. Held as close as he holds you.

And something else entirely.

“I love being inside of you. Whether it’s with my fingers or my dick. I don’t care. I just love being inside of you. You feel like home.”

He strokes your hair, over and over, from the side like that. From the crown of your head, past the curve, down the side of your neck. All while kissing your skin. Tiny little kisses that soothe you, lull you into tranquility, prove you utterly wrong.

But you’re still delirious from your high. You don’t realize what he said.

You don’t realize that your home isn’t within the walls of that bookstore but within the arms of the man that holds you.

And you don’t realize that he feels the same way.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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ln444 · 6 months

Text

truly madly deeply

cw: fluff, very slight angst, comfort (reader comforting lando), you and lando are fucking in love:'(((

now playing: truly madly deeply by 1d

notes: i love requests inspired by songs pls request more of it🥺 wrote this in 30 minutes at 3am so its a bit short sry:(

requested by anon

______________________________________________

these past few weeks have been incredibly tough on lando, both mentally and physically. you've undoubtedly noticed and have been doing your best to support him while giving him the space he needs. lando may struggle to express his feelings in words, but he's been showing his gratitude in other ways – with small gestures and plenty of physical affection. you've been following his f1 journey closely, never missing a grand prix, and making sure you're by his side through it all. lando has never felt more loved and supported. his favorite moments are those when he can finally rest and spend time with you after a grueling race.

qualifying is tomorrow, and lando seems even more nervous than usual. you know him inside out, recognizing his little habits when he's stressed; without him saying a word, you understand the thoughts racing through his mind. the night has fallen, heightening lando's anxiety as the race draws near. he's been more affectionate than usual today, seeking comfort in your hugs and asking for extra kisses. while you love this closeness, it also concerns you. you're well aware of how hard lando can be on himself, and the thought of what he might be going through tugs at your heart.

you join him on the bed, facing him, the stars casting a soft glow on his tired face, making his eyes sparkle even more when they meet yours. "hey, pretty boy," you whisper gently, your hand tenderly cupping his cheek and stroking it. butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his body relaxes a bit. "hey, love" he whispers back, planting a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand, eliciting a smile from you.

"how are you feeling?" you ask softly, your fingers gently playing with his curls – something you know he adores. with a sigh, lando closes his eyes for a moment before locking onto yours again. he finds immense comfort in your gaze, with the rest of the world fading away each time he gets lost in your eyes.

"i don't know... i'm not feeling great about tomorrow," he admits with a hint of worry in his voice. your heart aches just hearing his concerns. you move closer, your gaze softening, and lando's heartbeat quickens. how can you have such a profound effect on him with just your eyes? it drives him crazy.

"why, baby? you don't have to worry. you're lando norris, after all!" you playfully roll your eyes, and a smile tugs at lando's lips. he takes your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, and you reciprocate with a warm smile.

"no, but seriously, what's bothering you?" you softly toy with his fingers while giving him your full attention.

"i mean, it's more of a mclaren problem than a 'me' problem," he hesitates for a moment, and you gently caress the back of his hand, encouraging him to open up.

"i don't think i belong there anymore. i don't think i can show my true potential with them." his voice is calmer now, and a sense of relief is evident.

you hum softly, and he finds the courage to continue, still focused on your hands playing together. "should i quit? but what if no one else wants me?" panic creeps into his voice, and you immediately grip his hand firmly, bringing your free hand to his cheek.

"hey, you're one of the best drivers out there. there'll always be a team that wants you. believe me, there'll always be a place for you in f1. you've worked so hard to get here, and you truly deserve it," you reassure lando. he gets lost in your eyes, feeling the depth of your love and honesty. his heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

"but i want to be the best," he pouts, and you chuckle softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips, making him smile. "you're already the best for me," you say with a gentle smile, causing lando's heart and cheeks to warm. he groans playfully, slightly embarrassed by his blushing cheeks, and your smile widens. "you're so cute; i don't think my heart can take it," you playfully whimper, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. lando bites his lip to suppress a smile, and the sparks in his eyes intensify. you place multiple kisses on his lips, and lando can't help but chuckle. he puts his hands on yours to pause the kisses and says, "just give me a real kiss already, please," another pout forming on his lips. your smile grows bigger, and you oblige, giving him a gentle kiss.

lando pulls back to look at you, and the warm smile on his face melts your heart. "thank you," he says softly, caressing your hands. you don't really know why he's thanking you to be honest; for the kiss or for the honest words. "you don't have to thank me," you say, placing a quick peck on his lips. "i'll always be here for you, no matter what," another peck, "and i'll always be proud of you," another one, "no matter what, my pretty boy."

lando's heart has never felt this warm. in fact, his entire body feels warm right now, overwhelmed by the love he's receiving. "god, what did i do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and calm voice, clearly feeling better. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you."

"i know you did not just quote a one direction song," you both laugh, and lando groans, hiding his face behind your hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "it's cute," you move your hands to look at him. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you too," you say with a hint of teasing in your voice, but you absolutely mean it. a big smile forms on lando's face, and you run your hands through his hair to pull him into a tender kiss.

lando's heart feels lighter, your sweet words and touch washing away all the negative thoughts for the night. if you have to repeat every single word you said to him tomorrow and the day after – every day, you will do it, again and again. lando knows it, and he has never felt so thankful.

______________________________________________

masterlist

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #f1 #lando norris angst #f1 angst #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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ghostlychief · 3 months

Text

tattooed heart

the one where you ask Ghost about his tattoos

---

You’re lying in bed with your head on Ghost’s chest, able to feel the rise and fall of his breathing as you examine his tattooed arm. Your hands hold up his (surprisingly) heavy arm in order to study the designs more effectively. You’ve been asking him the story behind each tattoo for the past half hour, intrigued by what inspired them. And Ghost has answered you thus far, quelling your wonder in the history behind his now full sleeve. Some have more in-depth stories than others, or are more meaningful to him, but he never fails to answer you earnestly, always giving you a good story behind each one.

You can’t exactly explain what prompted you to sit down (rather lay down) with Ghost to get the details and pick his brain about his sleeve. Maybe you secretly just wanted to run your hand up and down his arm, tracing his tattoos while also being able to feel his solid muscles underneath them, and so therefore you needed an excuse. Maybe you just wanted to feel closer to him somehow, anyway you could, and this is what you came up with that night. Whatever the true reason, you will always look back at this memory fondly, as you spend the night together, learning more about each other.

“Mm what about this one?” You’re pointing at the American traditional skull and snake tattoo on his upper bicep. Ghost chuckles lightly at your pondering, finding it cute that you were so invested in the story behind each and every one of the tattoos on his arm.

“What’s the story behind it?” you ask again. Your fingertip runs gently over the design, tracing the pattern, the action making goosebumps arise on Ghost’s skin. Your soft eyes glance up at him, catching his gaze as well which makes him smile at you. His other arm, that’s not being investigated at the moment, tightens it hold around your shoulders and he lets out a nostalgic sigh before answering you.

“Well to be honest, it was as cover up for another tattoo I got many years ago.”

You let out a hum of understanding before asking, “What was the other tattoo? How bad could it have been for you to get it covered up?”

You and your questions.

Letting out another sigh and with regret coating his voice, he finally answers you. “I lost a dare with my friends and had to get the cliche, heart with ‘mom’ written in it. And obviously that doesn’t really fit the vibe of what I was going for, for my sleeve, so I eventually just got it covered up.” He nonchalantly shrugs after finishing his explanation, subsequently making you shift on his chest.

You prop yourself up a little so you can see him better. “Aww is Simon a mama’s boy?” You have a knowing smile on your lips as you look up at him, and see his eyes roll to heaven and back at your teasing.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re done asking me about my tattoos.” He pulls his arm out of your grasp, although not too roughly, and gently pushes you back onto the bed and rolls on top of you. His arms are on either side of your head propping him up and caging you under him.

“Are you done?” he asks while lowering himself slightly so he can nudge your nose with his, your lips just a hair’s breadth apart.

You close your eyes at his gesture, already forgetting about your questions, your thoughts quickly consumed by Simon being on top of you, being this close to you. You nudge his nose back and hum, “I think I could be, if you can take my mind off of things.”

You open your eyes then and see Simon smirking down at you. “Say no more.”

---

#Simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley imagine #simon riley fluff #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost imagine #cod ghost fanfiction #cod ghost fluff

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neteyamslovrr · 1 year

Text

KXANI - pt.1

summary: you have never fit in with the scientists, but on the night jake was lost in the forest so were you. staying with the people was your one true dream, yet when you are anything but welcome and jake get's to experience the people. you find yourself seeking comfort in tsu'tey

contents: 2.3k words, fem!avatar reader, set avatar 2009, kind of a prolouge, angst (only a lil)

authors note: i hope you guys enjoy this!! i'm really hyped to write a series especially my man tsu'tey. if this goes well definitely will be making a taglist so ask to be on it !!

all parts - next part

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

It was all you had dreamed of since you landed on Pandora. To be with the people, to walk beside them. Well, behind them. You weren’t exactly welcome.

You still remembered the day you were chased through the forest with Jake, jumping into the waterfall on nothing but a will to live. You remembered Neytiri jumping in front of you, saving you both, you had never been more thankful and terrified of someone in your life.

You remembered how a group of men on direhorse threw ropes around your feet then continued to lead to the Hometree. It was surreal, to be with them. To live among them. But it wasn’t how you had hoped.

You hoped to meet with them, learn there culture and be able to retell your findings when you returned to your natural form. Yet, it was nothing like that.

It was because of Jake. He was the warrior of the ‘Jarhead’ clan. God, he was so intolerable but yet he was the one person who could understand your struggles of being with the people because he was right there beside you.

But with all you efforts over the years to learn about the Na’vi, it was nothing in comparison to him being tutored by Neytiri.

On the night when the Olo’eyktan decided to keep you both, it was rather a keep the man and his dog. They thought nothing of you, just another sky scientist. So, you weren’t entitled to Neytiri’s teachings, you were entitled to stare from far away and hope that maybe you could gain a bit of knowledge from observing the pair.

That’s what you were doing right now, crouching down hiding behind a lush shrub looking at the two talk to Tsu’tey as Jake sat in a puddle of mud. Maybe you weren’t missing out on too much?

Resting on the balls of your feet and long fingers keeping the bush apart you peered onto the ongoing scene. But Tsu’tey had disappeared. He must’ve gone off in a hurry, it wasn’t like he enjoyed the company of you two aliens anyway.

“You. What is wrong with you?”

“FUCK!” You jumped in fright falling to the ground looking up at an unimpressed Tsu’tey from above you. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest as you tried to regain your composure, shying away from the looming figure.

“Go home. You will not embarrass yourself like that there.” You desperately wanted to go back to your human form, but it wasn’t worth it. This, what you were experiencing was ground-breaking to your studies. Plus, Grace would skin you.

Pushing yourself off the ground, brushing the dirt off your grazed knee your stared up at him. How do you even respond to him? He was terrifying. Such a powerful figure it seemed stupid to stand up to him.

You were no Jake. You wouldn’t ridicule the future leader, and you were no ‘warrior’. You were truly just a useless being to them. Nothing to learn, nothing to gain.

“Tsa’hik has medicine for that. Go” You wished your feet would move. God, this is so embarrassing! Are you really paralysed in fear? Because of Tsu’tey. It’s laughable. You tried to move, but all you could do was stare into his unimpressed eyes and wish your link failed so you could escape this hellhole. “Are you ill?”

“No.”

“Then why are you not moving?” Sometimes you were grateful you learnt Na’vi so you could have more in depth and intellectual conversations with the people. This is not what you imagined your conversations would be.

“No. I am.” Tsu’tey scoffed at you. Fuck. What if you just died. Didn’t come back. Met Eywa and apologized for the inconvenience.

“You alien, should go. Fix whatever is wrong with you.” Yet he wasn’t leaving. You pleaded that he would leave in a huff, upset at stupidity. But he still stood there!

“I am afraid of you.” It was a meek whisper. Something you should never of said as your heart beated aggressively against your ribs as if it was trying to escape its chamber.

Tsu’tey let out the heartiest chuckle as he stared down at you. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. Oh how you wished your feet weren’t bolted into the ground. He was genuinely amused. This was easily the funniest thing that had happened to him recently. And it was definitely going to be a story he was going to retell later on.

“So are children alien. You are like a child.”

“Thankyou.” You sneered up at him, still too embarrassed to meet his harsh gaze.

“Do you know where Tsa’hik is?” He tilted his head, his long braid falling over his shoulder as he peered down at you.

“I do not.” You tried to shovel down the shakiness in your voice, you could definitely cry right now.

“Of course, you don’t. Because you don’t belong here. I will take you to Tsa’hik. I would do it for a child.” He motioned for you to follow him as he rode off towards the base of the Hometree. “Hurry up alien child!” He laughed at his jokes as he pointed to you as he looked at other Na’vi also giggling at you as well.

What the fuck is your video log going to be today. ‘Got made fun of! Great find!’ This sucked! While Jake is learning the way of the people, you’re the people’s newest comedy act.

Dragging your feet to the Tsa’hiks room you were ushered to sit on a woven colourful mat in the middle of this section of the tree. Adorned in decorative items and many medicines and herbs you found yourself being stared down by Mo’at.

“She grazed her knee falling from a squatting height Tsa’hik.” Tsu’tey still managed to find a way to make fun of you even when he was talking to a superior.

Mo’at scoffed at you, mumbling something under her breath you did catch a few words. But they’re not necessarily for repeating. “How did you fall?” Mo’at’s intimidating voice caught you off-guard. You didn’t think she would speak to you directly.

“I- um. Tsu-. Tsu’tey startled me.” It was an insane struggled to get out, to admit you had a slightly serious graze because the man chuckling behind you scared you shitless.

“Ah.” She couldn’t find it in her to hide her disappointment apparently. Shaking her head, she applied a pungent medicine to your knee. Surprisingly, it didn’t sting the only sensation was that it was particularly cold for a paste that had been sitting in the open. “Maybe it is useful to do some stuff around the village. We do not welcome demons, especially not parasites.”

Parasite? That is what she thought of you. Oh, that’s just lovely. It felt like your stomach decided to go skydiving and take a miles high leap out of your body.

“Send her back. She is parasite, not needed.” Tsu’tey said this sentence in English. He needed you to understand it, it was his every intention to. It hurt for some reason. Well not some reason he had said something incredibly hurtful. But it was so deserved, so justifiable. Didn’t mean it wasn’t incredibly upsetting to hear.

“We cannot. Jake is an odd dreamwalker. A new demon. She must stay as he does, it is Eywa’s will.” He was silenced at the mention of Eywa. No one would question her intentions not even yourself. “She must learn. You will teach.”

“What?!” Tsu’tey voice boomed out echoing throughout the hollow tree. Is this how Jake felt that night? Because the taste of bile was growing in your throat as you stared at the huffing man. Nononono. He cannot teach, he’ll slit your throat the minute he has the chance.

“She will not be a hunter, no warrior. But she can learn the ways of the people. Teach her Tsu’tey do not question my decisions young one.”

“….yes Tsa’hik…”

Times like these you wished you could go back to your human form. So that your emotions wouldn’t be so easily understood with the swish of your tail and movement of your ears. Still sitting on the floor of the Tsa’hik’s area your ears were pressed against your head and tail swishing quite frequently.

“Go to the river to wash off the paste soon. It will stain your skin.” Mo’at told your before you were being harshly stared at by Tsu’tey. You were yet to understand the way Na’vi must telepathically communicate. It wasn’t even a millisecond after Mo’at finished that she had gave Tsu’tey the look to take you to the river.

You just wished you could understand those looks as well. “Come now. We walk.” He was so assertive it was frightening, the way he commanded you with a single order, you were so respectful of his place in the clan. It did make him like you slightly more than Jake.

“Do not kill her.” Mo’at said harshly to the tall man as you felt that bile rise to your throat again. Kill. What a word!

“I did not plan on it.” Tsu’tey smirked as he wandered off expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You just stared at Mo’at for reassurance. A simple nod to say ‘Yes! Big scary man won’t murder you!’ and she must’ve sensed your desperation.

Mo’at gave a curt nod and ushered for you to go with him with a flick of her hand. With the reassurance of the Tsa’hik you walked with Tsu’tey. Well, behind Tsu’tey to the river.

Every step was awkward. The past on your knee was starting to dry and made cracking noises every time you bent your knee. The crunch of the leaves under both of your heavy feet were the only conversation between the two of you. Eventually, after the short walk. Though it felt long due to the silence. Was finished at the sound of the flourishing waterfall meeting your ears.

It was so powerful, yet so beautiful. It reminded you of something. But nothing was coming to mind so you decided to just focus on the rushing sound as you ended your journey.

“Well done demon. You made it.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest, he thought he was hilarious.

“Thankyou.” You knew it wasn’t a compliment from him, but what else were you to say. Jake would of found a better comeback but you couldn’t.

“You are funny demon.” He said it so nonchalantly but to you it felt as if your heart bursts into a million butterflies. A compliment from a Na’vi felt so special, you felt slightly appreciated. And for it to be from Tsu’tey made it 100 times more meaningful considering how much distaste he has for you and Jake.

“Thankyou Tsu’tey.” Your genuine smile was one he had not seen yet. It was a new expression. Obviously, it looked familiar as it was on the body of a Na’vi but there was something so bright about your smile he couldn’t shake off. It was just something weird he assumed. Demons do weird things especially when they’re in bodies they’re not meant to be in.

“The paste must come off. Or else your knee will be yellow for weeks.” You nodded and hopped into the water. It was about knee height, so you had to bend to move the water over your knee completely.

“Is there a specific way to get it off. It is a foreign medicine to me.”

“It’s foreign because you don’t belong here.” Tsu’tey was just so harsh with his words, they were said with so much power, yet he felt sincere. It was odd. So odd. “Give me your leg.”

“What do you mean? HEY!” Tsu’tey had grabbed your injured leg yanking it into his arms making you twist and fumble trying not to go headfirst into the water.

His long fingers wrapped around your shin as he used his other hand to cup water into his hand and covering the yellow paste. Every time you fumbled trying to balance he let a ‘tsk’ leave his mouth. His fingertips felt as if they were being burnt into your skin as he gripped your leg tightly.

“Stop moving. I am getting the paste off.” He looked harshly into your eyes, his golden iris’ staring straight into your own.

“I’m trying!” it was an exacerbated statement. Tsu’tey saw the way your ears flicked down and you tensed all the muscles in your abdomen to try and stay still.

He felt a pound of his heart call out to him to not be so harsh. But why? You were nothing but a demon. A complacent one, but still a demon. You were better than Jake in his books. You listened stayed out of trouble, didn’t hang out with his future mate. But you were so odd. Nothing like any of the other demons. You were too complacent, too shy, too fearful. It was odd. Maybe that’s why his heart pounded.

With a final scrub the paste was gone and he let you leg down gently, an abrupt change to the quick and harsh picking up of your leg before. “Thankyou Tsu’tey.” He simply hummed in reply giving you a curt nod. This wave of confidence had overcome you. It was like you felt dizzy with courage. “Tsu’tey.”

The way you said his voice was weird to him. It was pronounced so clearly as if it was the only word you had learnt to say in his language. “Yes?”

“I know that..uh never mind.” The confidence vanished as soon as he stared into your eyes once again. His whole body facing towards you, his mind and soul focused on the words coming out of your mouth. It was too intimidating especially now as he waited for you to say more.

“Speak. What do you know?” His deep voice was memorizing, the way his chest rose proudly every word he spoke. He was so intriguing.

“I know that you don’t like me… and that I do not belong here. But I would like to help, I don’t want to be a p-parasite.” The word parasite stung on your tongue, and it was obvious how Tsu’tey winced at the word as well.

Truthfully, he regretted saying it so clearly to you. He only regretted when he saw the way your tail swished and the shine in your eyes. Maybe that’s why he felt crazy. Maybe that’s why he felt kind towards you. Maybe that’s why he agreed so fast.

“Only because you are smart, not stupid like Jakesully. I will teach you demon.” He reached out to grip onto your shoulder. It was a moment you don’t think you’d ever forget. The way his fingers held tightly onto you, his eyes looked so sincere and the usual scowl on his face had disappeared and turned in a stern look on promise.

This was the look of friendship, of teaching, you were about to learn the way of the people.

└────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

reblogs + replies so appreciated, i love you forever if you do yes i mean it i love you

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anyca786 · 1 month

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The Bite That Bound Us

Soulmate!Mikealson brothers x reader (poly)

Summary: One wrong turn into a dark valley and you find yourself turned into a vampire, but wait there's more...

I was barely five feet tall with my fiery red hair that never behaved, a whirlwind of sunshine and curiosity in a world far too big for me, was lost again. A shortcut, you'd called it. One wrong turn down a dark alley which was reeked of damp garbage and worse.

Now, a pair of glowing amber eyes locked onto mine. Panic clawed at my throat, but before I could even scream, a blur of elegant violence filled the air and then darkness, cold, an agonizing thirst that gnawed at my very core.

I awoke to a gasp of a different nature. A handsome man with chiseled features and an air of nobility stared at me, his expression a mix of shock and something deeper, something I couldn't decipher.

"What...happened?" My voice was a mere rasp.

"Forgive me," the man said, his voice a smooth baritone. "I lost control. You're..." He trailed off, examining my small frame with a frown.

Panic surged through me. "Am I dead?"

He hesitated. "Not exactly." His eyes met mine again, the amber depths swirling with guilt. "I turned you."

I stared, processing. Vampire. I was a vampire. A sob escaped through my lips before I could stop it. Then, his eyes pierced the void, followed by a face both beautiful and terrifying.

"I'm Elijah Mikaelson, the original vampire", he knelt beside me, a flicker of regret in his ancient gaze. "Forgive me, little one," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress.

Suddenly I felt the thirst again that I didn't understand, just felt the warmth returning, an unnatural hunger replacing the cold. I lunged, fangs ripping through his pristine white sleeve. He didn't flinch, only closed his eyes as I fed from him, a small, desperate creature clinging to his arm.

When I pulled back, sated and confused, his expression was unreadable. "You're different," he stated, his voice tinged with wonder. He took me to the sprawling compound, a haven shrouded in mystery. I was greeted by three pairs of eyes, each holding a universe of emotions. There was Klaus, the hybrid, Kol, the mischievous brother and Finn, the stoic one.

"Elijah," Klaus snarled, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "what is this?" Elijah ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. "She's a… anomaly. A human turned, yet… different."

Suddenly, Finn stepped forward, his voice trembling. He reached out, a single finger brushing my cheek. A gasp escaped his lips. "The prophecy," he whispered, eyes wide.

Kol scoffed. "Finn, don't be ridiculous."

But Finn shook his head, his gaze locked on me. "The soulmate. The one spoken of in mother's grimoire. The one who can break the curse."

A bewildered silence descended. Then, Elijah spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Tell me, little one, what is your name?". I blinked, my newfound senses overwhelming. "(Y/N)," I managed, voice barely a whisper.

Klaus snorted. "Soulmate? Don't be absurd. She's just a runt of a human he sired."

But Elijah knelt before me, his eyes searching mine. "Are you truly our soulmate, (Y/N)?"

I tilted my head, unsure. "Soulmate? What's that?"

Kol, the mischievous one, stepped forward. "Don't you remember, love? The whole of New Orleans knows. The prophecy? The Originals destined to find their mate, a petite firecracker they called her."

My eyes widened. I vaguely remembered my grandmother's stories, whispered tales of an ancient prophecy about a human who would complete the Original vampires. Could it be true?

A flicker of a smile touched Elijah's lips as he knelt before me, his eyes searching mine again. "This wasn't supposed to happen like this," he admitted. "I never meant to hurt you."

Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze. The fear was still there, but a spark of something else flickered within me too. "What happens now?"

A tense silence hung in the air as Elijah and his brothers exchanged looks. The prophecy. The guilt. And a flicker of a new beginning, all tied to the fate of a tiny human turned vampire.

Few months later....

The morning sun filtered through the thick drapes, casting a warm glow across the antique four-poster bed. I stirred, snuggling into the embrace behind me. Blinking bright sunshine away, I snuggled deeper into the warmth beside me. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Morning, love," rumbled a sleepy voice right by my ear. It was Klaus, still half-asleep, his hair a mess against the white silk sheets.

I smiled, turning in his arms to face his handsome face. “Morning, Nik.” My nickname for him was a constant battle between affection and pushing boundaries. He hated it, but it always made him smirk. Living with the Mikaelsons was an exercise in perpetual chaos – a chaos I wouldn't trade for anything.

Most mornings started like this – either tangled in Klaus's possessive embrace or waking up tucked against Elijah's comforting chest. Today, however, the familiar warmth was missing. I sat up, stretching my arms, and a wave of loneliness washed over me.

"Elijah?" I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the vast bedroom. A chuckle drifted in from the balcony. "Always so perceptive, love. Come join me."

I slipped on a silk robe and pushed open the French doors, a cool breeze ruffling my hair. Elijah stood leaning against the railing, a steaming cup of tea in his hand. He smiled as I approached.

"Lost sleep?" I asked, taking a sip of his proffered cup.

"Just thinking," he said vaguely, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "About yesterday."

Yesterday was a typical Mikaelson night. A masquerade ball Kol had dragged us all to, filled with pretentious socialites and enough bloodlust in the air to rival a slaughterhouse. It wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but with Kol by my side, whispering witty remarks and occasionally stealing kisses in dark corners, even masquerades could be fun.

"Was it Marcel again?" I sighed, setting the cup down.

Elijah didn't answer. Marcel Gerard, a vampire they'd turned centuries ago, had become a thorn in our side. He was building power, challenging dominion over New Orleans.

"Don't worry, love," he said, finally looking at me. "We'll handle him." He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was always so gentle, a stark contrast to the fierceness he displayed when protecting his family.

Before we could discuss Marcel further, footsteps approached. Kol sauntered in, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, Elijah, here you are. And my darling! Ready for breakfast?"

Our mornings usually included a leisurely breakfast with Kol, filled with gossip about the latest society scandals (courtesy of Kol's impeccable ear for eavesdropping), lighthearted teasing, and plenty of laughter.

We’d sit at the grand dining table, me perched on a booster seat (thanks to my perpetually human height), devouring pancakes while he regaled me with stories of his mischievous exploits throughout the centuries. Sometimes, Elijah would join us, his stoic demeanor masking the fondness in his eyes as he listened to Kol’s ramblings.

After breakfast, I spent the day indulging in my favorite pastime – reading. Finn, the quietest among the brothers, shared my love for literature. We curled up on the plush couches in the library, lost in different worlds, surrounded by towering shelves of leather-bound books. He’d read aloud in his soothing voice, his passion for history igniting a similar spark within me. Occasionally, Elijah would join us, his commentary adding another layer to the stories. Their perspectives, spanning centuries, were a treasure trove of knowledge.

Klaus, possessive and protective (sometimes to a suffocating degree), would spend nights dragging me to dimly lit clubs or lavish parties. He’d scowl at anyone who dared glance my way for too long, his hand possessively wrapped around my waist. It was annoying at times, this need to control everything around me, but there was a tenderness in his possessiveness that I couldn't ignore. Sometimes, he’d surprise me with a stolen moment in the garden, capturing my likeness on canvas with surprising skill.

Despite their differences, they all had one thing in common: their fierce protectiveness of me.

Whenever a dark cloud hung over me, Elijah, with his calming presence, would scoop me into his lap, whispering reassurances and pressing gentle kisses to my forehead. He understood my anxieties as a human turned supernatural, my loneliness in a world they’d inhabited for so long.

One afternoon, while browsing a quaint bookstore with Rebecca, I felt a prickling on the back of my neck – a feeling I’d come to associate with danger. Looking back, I saw Marcel, a former protégé turned enemy of the Mikaelsons, flanked by his vampires, his eyes glinting with malice. My blood ran cold. He was here, inside the French Quarter, the supposed haven.

Fear momentarily forgotten, I lunged towards him, a primal urge to protect my family surging through me. Of course, my vampire powers were a mere blip compared to Marcel’s ancient strength. He caught me effortlessly, his grip tightening around my throat. Panic rose, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

“Leaving the Mikaelsons pet unattended?” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom.

Before I could respond, a blur of white and blue swept past me. Elijah’s hand clamped around Marcel’s wrist, his face a mask of fury. “Leave her be, Marcel,” he growled.

“Now, Elijah,” Marcel mocked, his hold on me tightening. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown attached to the little rabbit.”

I struggled, kicking my legs and lashing out with my hands, a pathetic display against his superior strength. A surge of pride washed over me when I saw Kol and Finn materialize at Elijah’s side, their faces reflecting a similar fury.

A tense silence stretched between them. Just as Marcel opened his mouth to speak again, Klaus materialized behind him, his eyes blazing with an unholy fire. “You dare touch what’s mine?”

Marcel seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, a flicker of fear crossing his face. It was enough. With a coordinated attack, the Mikaelsons overpowered Marcel and his goons. It was a brutal ballet of fangs, claws, and super speed. I watched it all unfold from the safe.

You'll can send requests and suggestions-

#tumblr #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #tvdu #kol mikealson x reader #kol mikaelson #finn mikaelson #the originals #y/n

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archonsabyss · 4 months

Text

╰─..✶. [ Impetuous Bonds ]

❒ pairing: al haitham x fem!reader [ft platonic bff wriothesley]

❒ genre: fluff! action!

❒ warnings: minor violence!

❒ wc: 5.6k

─❒ authors note: did you know I've been working on this fic since october 4th. It's been rough but the year's over thank god. on the other note, let me officially introduce my wriothesley and al haitham as besties brain rot. and yes I have plans to expand on this brain rot. atlst 2 more ideas which I'll start on as soon as the spark hits again 💐

Amid your contrasting personalities was a semblance of shared interests woven together by a single thread. You, one and the same possessed a deep love for reading, discovering solace in the scripted ink, where letters blended to form words, weaving pathways to realms of boundless creativity. Whether it delved into knowledge, seeking escape, or simply enjoying the thrill of fiction, this mutual passion became a bridge of understanding between you despite your glaring differences.

A sense of harmony prevailed in your relationship which created a captivating paradox that intrigued those around you. People marvelled at the depth of your connection, questioning how two individuals so dissimilar could share such an intimate bond. Some attributed it to the age-old saying that opposites attract, believing it to be fate's handiwork—a calm presence to counterbalance chaos, a soothing embrace against restlessness, and a tender heart to temper the directness of the wordsmith.

Alternatively, it could be argued that the similarities, subtle yet profound, were the secret ingredients of your relationship. A quiet demeanour and reserved nature concealed a dream-like love that left onlookers in both awe and envy. Your love story, tender and understated, defied expectations, leaving a trail of wonder and admiration in its wake. A love, true as an existence of pure gold, if such ethereal beauty could be acknowledged.

To you, what others deemed ordinary, was a world of its own. Normal acts of affection and simple gestures of intimacy felt like your beloved had gifted you the heavens and earth. Perhaps, the extent to which you elaborated on your connection with the acting grand sage felt akin to a tale spun from fantasy, a reverie you indulged in.

You considered that the romanticized nature of your love might have been obscured by the mist of infatuation, that the love you had for Al Haitham may have cast an enchanting illusion upon your reality. But it was okay when no harm or toxicity came from being tucked away in your little head, daydreaming about the man who had long proclaimed himself yours until the day he died.

As the early days of parading around with an unacknowledged crush, and the fledgling phase of your romance grew further in distance, you settled into a life different, happier yet marked by its trials.

You fell in step with each other, occasionally finding them offbeat or at entirely different paces, yet such is the essence of any relationship. Despite this, everything harmonized.

While you weren't a morning person, on rare occasions when sleep evaded you, you'd rise earlier than usual, and frequently, Al Haitham would already be awake. During those moments you would sit together in bed for a few minutes longer or have an early breakfast before the sun had fully ascended, relishing in the silence and warmth of each other's company, and today was one of those days.

While Al Haitham took a shower, you began preparing breakfast, knowing that your errands could only be attended to a bit later on.

Upon entering the kitchen, an aromatic veil of freshly brewed coffee gracefully filled the air, its enticing fragrance embracing Al Haitham as he sat down and reached for the coffee, finding it already thoughtfully poured into two cups, one from which you'd intermittently sipped on while engrossed in preparing food to sustain you for the first half of the day. Despite knowing its warmth had faded as you got lost in preparations, you were certain, albeit acknowledging its unhealthiness, that you'd have another cup once breakfast started. Meanwhile, Al Haitham had long eased into his seat at the island table, his hands cradling a mug, savouring the invigorating bitter heat of his coffee. His concentration remained unbroken as his eyes meticulously skimmed through the arranged stack of documents before him.

It was a simple and ordinary scene, but it was these moments shared that held such immense value.

You felt completely at ease as you moved about the kitchen, exuding the comfort of a face free from makeup, clad solely in the shirt Al Haitham discarded before bed, with your hair casually bundled in a tousled bun.

The kitchen bustled with the promise of breakfast, ingredients for pancakes and eggs scattered like confetti on the tables. In contrast to your relaxed appearance, your lover was impeccably dressed, looking incredibly handsome and sharp. For most of the time you had your back turned to him, unaware that Al Haitham couldn't help but steal glances between you and his papers.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips. Though his face remained composed, it was clear from the emotions in his eyes that he was utterly captivated by you— the subtle relaxation and absence of tension in his gaze spoke volumes.

Whenever you turned to face him, his attention would seamlessly shift back to his work, not out of shame for openly admiring his beloved, but because he understood that if your eyes locked, the temptation to whisk you back to bed would be irresistible.

"When will you join me" He mused after some time, lips hiding behind his cup of coffee as you scowled when one of the pancakes painfully flopped.

"As soon as your food is done" You mutter, sighing in relief when you flip the last pancake, turn off the stove, and turn around to set the plate of food before him.

Al Haitham's eyes lit up with deep gratitude behind the gilded frames of his glasses, glimmering with subdued enthusiasm, his smile a testament to the warmth of his appreciation as his fingers entwined with yours, gently pulling you around the counter and towards him.

With a soft kiss on your hand, he tilted his head, silently pleading for a kiss, his whispered "Thank you" lingering in the air as you leaned in, wishing to seal his gratitude with another kiss when you were startled by a sudden resounding crash reverberating through the house, signalling the forceful swing of the front door opening and closing.

You both turned your heads in the direction of the hallway and in sauntered Wriothesley who had been a guest in Sumeru as well as your home for the past week. He wore a nonchalant smile each time he visited, his hair artfully tousled, and his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor.

Al Haitham often remarked, like clockwork, that Wriothesley would invite himself inside as if he was welcomed, which he was not by his words, but by your prior blessing to enter whenever he pleased.

Al Haitham let out an audible grumble, his smile fading as Wriothesley's smile grew, begrudgingly turning his attention to his meal, expressing his discontent in silence. You planted a kiss on his cheek and gently pulled away, a move he anticipated, evident from the disapproving glare he directed at his plate while he continued eating.

"Good morning, Wriothesley." You cheerfully greeted, just as you have every time he's made his unannounced─ yet expected entrance.

"I've just brewed a fresh pot of tea for you," You stated proudly, already taking out a cup and pouring the piping hot amber liquid in.

In response, your distinguished guest's grin widens a touch as he offers his thanks and comfortably takes a seat beside Al Haitham.

"When do you plan on returning home? I reckon your presence there is considerably valued─ necessary if you prefer" Al Haitham inquired with a casual and composed demeanour, his tone direct and perhaps a bit blunt, though neither you nor Wriothesley takes offence as you've grown accustomed to his straightforwardness.

With a playful gleam in his eyes, he opted to provoke a reaction by disregarding Al Haitham and answering you instead, "Figured you'd feed me"

"Mind your manners," Al Haitham chimes in flatly, taking a sip of his coffee while casting a sidelong glance at Wriothesley. "My wife's not here to serve you."

"Fiancée," Wriothesley corrects teasingly, his smile appreciative towards you as you set the plate before him and move on to the dishes, disregarding their banter.

Al Haitham's jaw tightened in annoyance at the correction. To him, it was merely a title, a formality. In less than a month you were set to officially become his wife, yet the significance of a ring and title paled in comparison to the deep connection he felt in his mind, heart, and soul from the very beginning. He was undeniably yours, just as you were undeniably his, and nothing could change that.

"Regardless, she's mine and has no obligation to serve you let alone feed you"

"It's not an obligation if she wants to do it" Wriothesley takes a sip of his tea, humming in contentment as the warm liquid touches his tongue and envelopes his throat, satisfied with your skills as always.

Al Haitham reluctantly admits to himself that Wriothesley is right, simply because he knows you. Over the years he has observed, comprehended, and admired you from distances far and near, he's learned almost everything there is to know about you, and your passion for cooking was one of them seeing as you've taken up the role of preparing the meals on most days.

Al Haitham has seen the way you revelled in the process of preparing meals with the mindset that your actions would fill the stomachs of those you loved dearly, even if there was the less enjoyable task of washing dishes afterwards, if it was for him, anything. To his misfortune, that anything extended to the male seated beside him as well.

You snuck a few glances between the two, restraining your amusement by biting your lip as you leaned over the counter and picked at the fruit bowls, knowing you were rarely able to stomach food this early in the morning without feeling nauseated.

"It's been a while since I've gotten to savour a meal made with love, let me enjoy this" Wriothesley smiles, savouring the mix of sugary sweet syrup that he licks off his lips.

"If you must, shut up and drink your tea" Al Haitham mumbles under his breath with an ever so small smile hinting at the corner of his lips, prompting an amused raised eyebrow from the onlooker.

"Why don't you shut up and drink your coffee so I can enjoy my tea then"

"You are insufferable"

"Do you think I'm insufferable?" Wriothesley directs at you, pursing his lips into a full pout just to annoy Al Haitham even more.

"No, Wrio. I think you're rather quite loveable" You said smiling as you leaned your forearms on Al Haitham's shoulders and placed your chin atop his head.

"See," He says smugly, "Loveable"

Al Haitham releases a deep breath, exhaling built-up frustrations, and gradually letting worries and tension fade away, he eases his shoulders, leaning back more into your embrace, while Wriothesley attempts to hide his smile upon witnessing it.

"Do you boys have any plans for the day?" You asked eventually. One of them shook his head and the other simply shrugged. "I have a few errands to run and seeing as you're both available, would you mind accompanying me?"

"That would depend" The grin returns to Wriothesley's pondering face, "I'll take my payment in the form of your baking" He decided, unfolding his arms and placing them flat on the countertop, but in doing so he receives a sharp nudge to his ankles from the tip of Al Haitham's shoe.

Wriothesley winces but doesn't retreat, he shrugs lazily before stating lastly with narrowed eyes directed at his dearest friend in emphasis, "I work enough as it is, Al Haitham. Being an errand boy has become more your thing, and besides, there's no way I'm going to pass up the chance of having your Mrs, bake for me"

Al Haitham pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the forming ache.

You smile sweetly at Wriothesley, thanking him for the compliment just as Al Haitham rises from his seat, dishes in hand and a perpetually sullen and irritated expression etched on his face, wishing for the silence that has been disturbed.

🜙˚─ [˚ ⁀🕯️⟡‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Strolling through the streets of Sumeru to reach your destination, you took the time to observe the peculiar camaraderie between Al Haitham and Wriothesley as they walked a few steps ahead of you, lost in a world of their own, one with a scowl while the other engaged in conversation, seemingly unaware that he wasn't being heard by the former.

Al Haitham's composed and disinterested expression might deceive anyone into believing he wasn't attentive, and there was a chance his noise-cancelling earpieces were intentionally activated to avoid hearing the conversation, but as you observe him closely, you discerned that Al Haitham was indeed attentive, if not wholly absorbed in the Duke's ceaseless chatter.

It was to no one's business but his own, Al Haitham once said to you, for your ears alone, while seated by your dresser, observing you through the mirror as you loosened your corset and unbuttoned your white blouse, revealing skin just above your belly button.

In unspoken words, it was a confession where he admitted he acknowledged his friends more than he expressed. He admired Kaveh's profound passion for the arts and his unwavering stubbornness when they bickered, he also acknowledged with a hint of irritation, the blonde's imperfections and his excessive eagerness to please others through tireless efforts.

What Al Haitham harbours within himself is quite bothersome to his conscious, it is the fact that Kaveh withholds emotional fragility, a presumption he believes you're already aware of, but it does not change how he engages with the latter.

Al Haitham with all his knowledge hardly wishes to entangle himself in the inner turmoil of others, hence, he chooses to refrain from crossing a particular boundary, with Wriothesley on the other hand, presented a slightly more distinct scenario where he found his company rather tolerable if not likable, though he would never dare to articulate it.

Al Haitham turned from the dresser's mirror to face you, drawing you between his parted legs and resting his hands beneath your shirt on your bare hips, he lifted his eyes to meet yours before uttering a sentence you least expected that night before bed. "Would you accompany me to Fontaine?" No further explanation was necessary; you understood the spontaneous mention of a trip to Fontaine. With a wistful smile and a tender kiss on his forehead, you agreed.

The following week, you left for Fontaine to personally wish Wriothesley a Happy Birthday, offering him companionship in his solitude for as long as you could.

What became apparent during that period, was that witnessing Al Haitham being his authentic self wasn't a rare occurrence in Wriothesleys presence.

Wriothesley had a knack for bringing vibrancy to your partner, whether through a spirited debate, an unfriendly competition, or the fact that Al Haitham's eyes had never been more devoid of his usual contentment with a mundane life. This was a side of Al Haitham you've only ever caught brief glimpses of beyond the walls of your home.

The bond threaded through the viscosity of blood coursing within their veins, knowing to most it was nothing more than a misinterpretation of their characters by the way they argued with their teeth bared and claws extended. They appeared mostly harmless. You prayed it would never escalate to physical tests of strength. A chuckle is prompted by the thought, returning you to the ongoing reality of Al Haitham and Wriothesley embroiled once more in their unending dispute.

"I don't see the need for you to be hovering," Al Haitham said. "If I wanted your company I would have asked, which in case you haven't gotten the jest by now, I don't really want"

"Al Haitham!"

Your partner's ears react to the cautionary tone in your voice, and swiftly, his head turns towards you. His eyes widen with innocence, and his demeanour dissolves, resembling a deer caught in headlights. The ongoing argument fades into oblivion, and even Wriothesley's presence is nearly erased as he shifts his focus entirely towards you.

"What?" He asked, oblivious to any issue with his earlier question.

"Could you go buy those spices you brought home last week? We've run out" It's not entirely untrue, but you simply crave a moment of peace from their conversation so you can hurry up the trip and return to the quiet solitude of your home and the warmth of your blankets, and considering Al Haitham is more responsive to your requests, you cleverly recall the need for spice and ask him to handle that quick errand while you wrap up the rest of your grocery shopping.

"Mhm," He murmured, exhaling deeply, placing a slow kiss on your cheek before moving on, going along with your tactic to separate him from Wriothesley who watches in amused bewilderment, hands placed at the top of his hips, "And here I thought I was a dog. You've got a good leash on him. Keep it that way"

"You should stop instigating him," You tell him, amusement glinting in your eyes and tugging on your lips, walking on. Leaving Wriothesley to follow along at his leisure.

"This is my sign to run along"

"Where are you going?" You tilt your head back to glance at him.

"I just remembered something, I'll be back in a bit, promise" In the blink of an eye, he vanishes, leaving you to continue on your way. When you finally reach the bustling Grand Bazaar, vibrant with crowds, you roam the markets and stalls, finding yourself engaged in conversation with Afshin, the travelling merchant, when your attention is abruptly diverted by a sudden commotion.

Across from you, a female merchant had fallen prey to a disgruntled customer, likely the source of the chaos unfolding. A table overturned, boxes strewn across the floor, their contents spilled and some irreparably damaged.

The young woman in her early twenties who stood ownership of the stall, gazed at her belongings before sinking to her knees, attempting to salvage the disarray.

Meanwhile, the customer and what you presumed to be his mercenary guards, hurled disparaging comments about the perceived inadequacy of her trade, their hands clasping the hilts of their swords as though perceiving the young woman as a clear threat.

A sigh escaped you, heart pounding with anxiety as you observed the unfolding scene.

"Give me a moment," You said, Afshin nodded in response, resuming the task of organizing the items on his table.

"Excuse me" Walking towards the occurring scene, you hesitantly intervened, drawing the glaring eyes of the customer towards you.

"This doesn't concern you. Take your nosiness elsewhere woman" He snarled in a manner that made you step back, nevertheless, you stood your ground and faced the Female merchant, offering her a reassuring smile.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Aniya"

"Aniya, what seems to be the problem?" You inquired, assessing the tables and the contents occupying them.

"This man claims my merchandise is not authentic after he has already inspected, bought, and paid for several pieces. Now he asks for a refund without returning the products"

"Look, I don't want no trouble lady" He exclaims, barely standing firm on his short stubby legs. "But if you just give me my money back I'll be on my way"

"What of my labour?! I've spent a good worth of time exploring and producing each of those carpets and materials by hand! You won't find such quality elsewhere for as cheap of a price as I've given!"

His face scrunched in anger, his guards stepping forward with a subtle signal. "If we can't reach an agreement you will pay the price"

"We won't come to an agreement if you refuse to settle your greed" You stated calmly.

The anger that exuded off him was not by any means intimidating, but the mercenaries that stepped forward at the ready, made you cautious.

The tension of the situation gradually grew and you were bordering on a violent reaction, that much you could easily tell given you've been a front-row witness to past events with both Al Haitham and Wriothesley.

As you feel yourself growing anxious, you positioned yourself protectively in front of Aniya, who, though a few years younger, was brimming with unrefined passion and working diligently. The youthful intensity in her gaze spelled trouble, yet it reflected such bravery and boldness altogether, truly embodying the spirit of a genuine merchant, and though it was admirable, it also meant there was no escaping the situation if the fiery spirit possessing her had any influence.

You breathed in steadily, gathering your hyperventilating thoughts and acknowledging your helplessness with Wriothesley and Al Haitham absent. Neither you nor Aniya were fully equipped for a direct physical confrontation, but perhaps, if you could stall them long enough, the result might not be excessively dire. The wisest choice now was to prevent provoking the man to the point that he sends those gruelling tattered mercenaries your way.

The argument─ though you wish not to call it that given you hoped to subdue the situation before it escalated, but with the feistiness of the young Merchant Aniya and the highly obnoxious and demanding customer by the distasteful name of Afif, nothing was going as planned.

Afif was a lord spoiled and rotten in both name and character. By nature, his manner of approach was enough to make your skin crawl and your throat tighten. You wonder who awaits him at home and how they endure such a man throughout their lives, considering you can hardly tolerate his attitude for even a few minutes.

They went back and forth without resolution, and each passing minute had regret swirling hefty within your conscience as neither of them backed down, the mercenaries themselves were growing antsy. With every breeze tousling your hair, it seemed like a word uttered by Afif left you feeling even more frustrated. He simply carried on spouting his nonsense of fair trade─ exposing himself as a hypocrite who disregarded the fundamental principles of fair trade.

In your mind, a silent prayer echoed, hoping for the return of either Al Haitham or Wriothesley.

These kinds of situations were precisely what you aimed to avoid, but your compassion couldn't tolerate witnessing Aniya's mistreatment, and unfortunately, because of it you landed yourself in such a predicament you could neither talk your way out nor pathetically apologize and walk away.

Meanwhile, Al Haitham was en route to the Bazaar when he coincidentally encountered Wriothesley who happened to be returning from his quick errand.

"Where'd you go" Al Haitham asked with a raised brow, causing the dark-haired Duke to pause and turn around, waiting for Al Haitham to catch up before continuing, now with him at his side.

"Look how you contradict yourself Haitham, went from claiming I was hovering to questioning my absence. Such a sweetheart─ truly" He flashed a lazy grin, revealing the pointed tips of his fangs that grazed his bottom lip.

"If you must know, Tea" He wiggled the bag mid-air for Al Haitham to see.

"I felt compelled to ask, not that I care much at all"

"You care enough"

"Unfortunately" Al Haitham muttered with a roll of his eyes, flexing the fingers of his free hand that wasn't holding the pack of spices you had asked him to fetch.

Upon entering the Bazaar, Al Haitham abruptly ceased his argument with Wriothesley. He lapsed into silence as he paused and scanned the area, allowing for his senses to come back to him.

He alongside Wriothesley took in the situation surrounding you and the menacing bodies enclosing your safe space. The ambience was palpable even from his current position.

Wriothesley glanced at Al Haitham who had already begun to pick up his pace and he followed suit.

If given the opportunity, Al Haitham would steer clear of any sort of situation that compelled him into social confrontations. He cherished solitude, finding no necessity for social interaction unless absolutely unavoidable.

He was a man of simplicity, content in silence until he met you, and suddenly, he found a liking for sharing that silence with you. In that regard, both of you shared a preference for confining yourselves within the familiar walls of home, avoiding expending energy on forced interactions.

Even when venturing outside, the dynamic persisted. Amidst a sea of people and bustling crowds, it was as if the world consisted solely of the two of you. Others might cast glances, but your attention remained fixed on the path ahead or each other.

Your ears seemed attuned exclusively to each other's voices, and your hands, not particularly fond of physical contact, found solace only in being held by one another.

But when Al Haitham caught sight of you standing there trying to convey strength through your expression, the subtle tremble in your fingers betrayed you and did not go unnoticed by him.

A cold chill ran down his spine and the sensation of blood draining from his body followed. With urgency, he briskly approached to be by your side, arriving just in time to see rough hands reaching out to seize you. Commotion and reactions stirred among the onlookers, who stood by passively, aggravating him further.

"There seems to be a problem here" Al Haitham intervened, his voice clear, monotone, and confident, arms hanging casually at his sides as he looms over the customer, whose posture shifts the moment he lays eyes on the unexpected presence of the Acting Sage.

Al Haitham's arrival brings instant relief to your anxiously furrowed forehead and your tensed shoulders.

"Acting Grand Sage" Afif mumbles with a touch of trepidation, his once gruesome expression fading entirely.

The tallest among the three mercenaries scowls in response to the sudden intrusion, displaying no fear or concern for Al Haitham in his demeanour.

It's evident that he harbours a strong desire to pummel the interrupter through those demonic eyes glaring at your lover's head. Had it not been for Wriothesley who announces his presence to you by offering a reassuring nudge to your shoulder, you'd have redirected your cowering gaze to the ground.

Wriothesley leans casually against the wooden beam of the market tent, arms folded with a smug air as he watches Afif and his Entourage of folks masquerading as combatants.

Afif squirms under the intimidating aura of both Al Haitham and Wriothesley and attempts to shift the blame, trying to implicate Aniya for supposedly intending to mislead him in the trade, alleging that she was dishonest about her products, as is often the case in trade within Sumeru lately. In this instance, it was not. Aniya's honesty mirrored her ambition to rise as a respected merchant, firm and true.

Afif's initial efforts were futile, and as he came to this realization, fear gradually morphed into anger.

"I don't owe any of you an explanation, this is between me and that deceitful merchant wench" He spat, instructing his mercenaries to seize Aniya. However, their unscrupulous nature led them to reach for you as well, a decision that likely proved to be their gravest mistake.

Standing beside you, Wriothesley, under the Scribe's approving gaze, shrugged and uncrossed his arms, rolling his shoulders back as the mercenaries lunged forward with snarls.

He was mindful of the limited space and wary of endangering you or Aniya and therefore employed small, sharp, and precise movements. He swiftly evaded a punch from the towering mercenary, causing him to stumble forward in the aftermath of his failed attack. In that fleeting moment, Wriothesley seized the flailing arm of his adversary and firmly clamped his other hand onto his shoulder, twisting it behind his back and rendering him effectively immobilized.

With a vigorous push, he forced the vanquished mercenary to his knees, a disgruntled groan of pain echoed. Simultaneously, the second mercenary, driven by rage and fiery eyes, charged forward, only to be skillfully tripped and sent tumbling to the ground, nursing a bruised ego.

Wriothesley applied the weight of his sturdy boot on the back of the second assailant, forcing his face into the ground. Meanwhile, the first attacker was restrained by his hair, ensuring both remained motionless and incapable of causing further trouble.

"Care to help?" He directed at Al Haitham, paying no mind to the third mercenary who tightly clenched his blade, casting nervous glances between Wriothesley, who effortlessly subdued his fellow mercenaries, his employer, and the aloof scribe who stood in front of you protectively.

The onlookers stared in astonishment at the unfolding scene. Aniya, her mouth agape in amazement, beheld the renowned Duke of Fontaine standing before her very eyes, and besides you, Al Haitham, the esteemed Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru, portrayed a grand demeanour, often misunderstood. She observed his protective stance in front of you and it brought a small smile to her face, recognizing the subtle expressions of love in those gestures. She watched them in awe despite feeling guilt for the entire situation being a result of her actions.

"You appear to be managing quite well without me" Al Haitham replied with a raised brow.

"Leaving me to do all the work, I see" Cracking his neck, Wriothesley awaited the concluding blow from the sole remaining mercenary.

"Classifying it as 'work' would be a stretch," Al Haitham emphasized, "Three mercenaries hardly pose a challenge for you, Your Grace."

Releasing the two mercenaries he held, both now unconscious, Wriothesley did so just as the final adversary staggered forward on unsteady legs. True to Al Haitham's assertion, Wriothesley effortlessly subdued the remaining threat by gripping the front of his shirt and hoisting him off the ground.

"I feel like I'm third wheeling," You remarked.

"Nonsense, Wriothesley just talks a lot" Al Haitham brushed aside, moving past you in the direction of Afif, narrowing the brief gap between them. With the situation now in check, the only task left was tending to Afif before you could all proceed on your way.

"I'm sensing a bit tension though" You teased, nonetheless.

"Really?" Pipes Wriothesley over his shoulder, "On a scale of 10, how good is our chemistry?"

"Can you not entertain this, Wriothesley" Al Haitham looks at you, "And no, there is nothing of the sort nor will there ever be"

"Why not?"

"I am perfectly content with the relationship I'm in," He says, and simultaneously, a metallic clinking sound captures your attention.

You glance towards the source of the sound and find yourself pleasantly surprised. Wriothesley notices the shift in your gaze and follows your line of sight. Al Haitham had grabbed the dangling pair of handcuffs on his hip, right under his nose, and placed them on Afif's hands, all while everyone's attention was absorbed in listening to your conversation rather than observing him.

"What the─" Wriothesley muttered, his eyes wandering to the metal restraints encircling the discourteous customer's wrists. A moment later, upon realization setting in, he checked his side, only to realize with surprise that it was indeed his handcuffs.

"Keep up" The smugness in Al Haithams voice could be heard even without looking at him.

"Well shit buddy, good luck trying to get those off" Wriothesley blinks, expression flat as he stares at his handcuffs knowing the only means of removing them lies in a key only accessible to him – a key that resided in the drawer of his cluttered desk all the way in Fontaine.

"So.." Wriothesley trails off looking around, "What do we do with them now?"

"Let's have them pay a visit to the General Mahamatra, I'm certain he'd know just what to do with you"

"This has no connection to the Akakemiya. I haven't breached any rules concerning it and therefore you have no right to detain me like this! It goes against my rights."

Wriothesley chuckled, bending eye level with Afif. "Your rights have just been revoked, Lord"

"I beg to differ. Would you like a detailed account of all your criminal activities?" Al Haitham undoubtedly possesses more knowledge than he let's on. He's not bluffing, and you wonder what kind of leverage your fiancé has on this insignificant Lord for him submit and cower so quickly.

Leaning in to whisper, he says, "Wouldn't want the Akademiya catching wind of your illicit knowledge exchanges, would we? Or perhaps General Mahamatra is already on the lookout for you, Khada'i. Your nose is in everyone's business, and because of that, I'll ensure you're buried. Now then," he pats his shoulder. Sweat accumulates on Afif's—rather, Khada'i's—face under the pressure of Al Haitham's words. "Sit quietly and await your end."

"You two are enjoying this" You shift your weight to your right leg, hand on your hip.

"Not in the slightest," Denies Al Haitham, while simultaneously, Wriothesley questions, "What gives you that impression?"

Shaking your head, you dismiss the two as the guards lead away the identity-deceiving lord into proper custody. You turn to Aniya once more, and she showers you with endless gratitude for your help and assistance. She expresses concern about what might have happened if you hadn't been there, especially with Afif sending his mercenaries after her, fearing what may have become of the situation then had you not stepped in. The recent situation had drained you entirely of your energy and though Aniya offered to repay you in any way she could, you politely declined, desiring only to be on your way and depart from the public eye, wanting nothing more than to be home with a cup of coffee and your bed.

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

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kamisatomay018 · 7 months

Text

My Dragon

Warnings: 16+, dragon and mermaid, mention of dark underwater spaces and mermaid/dragon tails

I’m sorry if this is a little long!

If you’re not comfortable then please don’t hate!!

Neuvillette x female reader

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life Mon Ange”

Holding his hand, you were swimming to the deepest depths of the waters of Fontaine. Neuvillette looked around in awe, observing beautiful creatures he had never seen before, how even though no sunlight reached these dark depths, the plants around them lit up the whole ocean. He felt as if he was in a different world altogether, one where he felt serene and calm, where he felt at home. He then looked in front watching his love guide him to their unknown destination, and felt like his breath was taken away. No matter how many times he saw you like this, he would always be awestruck and fascinated by how beautiful you looked in your true form; that of the Mermaid Princess.

In his eyes, every single detail about you was just phenomenal: your gorgeous blue tail, your long brown hair which had streaks of blue and lavender in them, and the shimmering crown you wore on your head that made every creature in these unknown waters bow their heads in respect. You looked ravishing in his eyes, so gentle yet your aura commanded respect, how you held his hand so reassuringly so he wouldn’t get lost in this unknown place full of wonders. He then felt his heart flutter as you turned your head towards him, locking your gaze with his. Blue eyes met Lavender as the world stopped for him for a moment, gosh he was so in love with you. The man who 5 years ago could not understand human emotions was now so deeply in love that sometimes it baffled him. His love for you was deeper than the deepest oceans, his love knew no bounds and he knew you felt the same way about him.

“What’s wrong love? You seem awfully quiet.”

“Ah forgive me Mon Ange, I was just lost in your beauty..”

You looked away, cheeks blushing pink as his words made your heart skip a beat. Leaning close, you placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“We’re almost there, are you sure you’re ready? If not, we can still return..”

“…No; I’m sure..I can feel that this is the right thing to do, and with you by my side, I’m ready for anything” He looked into your eyes with a soft smile, nodding reassuringly. You smiled wide, intertwining your hand with his once again and started swimming into a little hidden cave that you were well acquainted with.

Tonight was special, tonight you were going to help neuvillette in attaining his true form, that of a dragon. The past few months he had been feeling his power grow, and you knew that it was time for him to gain his true form so that he would become the all powerful Hydro Dragon. You were Neuvillette’s soulmate, in every way, and your connection to him was deeper than that of love. It was eternal and unchanging, just as the tides and the scent of rain. You realised that he needed time and help to transform, for he had no idea what to do in order to reach the pinnacle of his powers. He was born as a human, and due to his foggy memories he was finding it impossible to achieve his true form, until you decided to help him out in your own ways.

You led him inside the cave, which was huge and shimmered due to the countless crystals everywhere, bioluminescent lights emitting from various plants reflecting upon the walls. It was a breathtaking view, perfect for the two of you. You stopped swimming, looking at your lover.

“Alright, now listen to me carefully hm? To achieve your dragon form, you will need time and patience. Tonight you will not become a complete dragon, but we will start by making you familiar with your tail and how to use it. You will look something like me, except your tail will be much longer, and you’ll be stronger than ever. You will attain all your powers today which will help you to fully transform into a full fledged dragon once you’re ready. However, this process can be painful for you…I’ll try do to whatever I can to ease it.”

Neuvillette listened to each word carefully, and just felt so lucky to have you by his side. All of this was quite confusing for him but having you here with him eased his troubled mind. “Alright sweetheart, I understand..But, I don’t know where to start..”

You chuckled, kissing his forehead softly “Close your eyes and just focus on my voice and the water around us. Feel the water around you, become one with it, for it is your element and your home.”

He did exactly that. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel. He resonated with hydro, and let himself relax underwater in this serene cave. He then heard your melodious voice singing a tune and felt his heart warming up. This was the tune you’d hum for him every time he was anxious or sad, and just like that the rain would stop. For a while, nothing happened. But as he focused more on his power, he felt something deep within him stir, and a sharp pain shot throughout his body. He groaned and felt something: a power so strong, an authority unlike anyone else’s and a love so deep that it could drown him. He felt overwhelmed with this whirlpool of emotions, pain and power; he felt your voice fade away as he felt the power of all of the water of eons past surge into his veins.

You on the other hand, gasped at the view in front of you. It had worked, he was transforming and you could feel it. However your heart broke hearing his groans of pain, but before you could reach out to help him, a sudden glow of light pushed you away. A few seconds later as you regained your composure to look at your lover, you gasped and your eyes widened.

There he was, in all his glory, Your Dragon Sovereign. His well built upper body was bare, his long white hair were now flowing freely and his horns, although unchanged, glowed. He now had a huge deep blue tail, his form was so much bigger than yours. His arms were a fading shade of blue as well, and the power that he held made you shiver. You had always been able to feel a great amount of power in neuvillette, but now it increased by ten fold, so much that it was enough to make even the celestial gods kneel in front of him. You approached him slowly as his eyes were shut tight, his breathing heavy from the strain the transformation took.

Gently cupping his cheeks, you spoke softly “Neuvi? Love, are you alright?” He opened his eyes at your words, looking right at you. His eyes were glowing too, and just seeing him in this form made you fall in love with him even more. However, he did not answer you, rather he looked at you with an unreadable expression. As you were about to open your mouth to speak, you ended up gasping loudly, feeling his strong tail wrap around yours, making your body crash against his. Shivers and sparks went up your spine at the contact of his tail against yours. Archons, it felt amazing.

“Mine. My mate.” You heard Neuvillette growl, his voice deeper than ever, full of authority yet love. Tears formed in your eyes listening to him calling you his mate. Finally, you weren’t the only one who felt that deep connection to him. Finally, he too knew that you were more than his lover, that you were his mate for the rest of your lives. You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes My Dragon, I’m yours, only yours..”

Neuvillette smiled at your words, his eyes looking down to see his own form, although not complete yet. He loved the way his larger tail engulfed your frame in his arms, and the contact of your tails intertwined together felt so intimate. He looked at you with a gentle smile “So, how do I look Mon Ange?”

“You look absolutely majestic My Dragon..”

At those words, he felt himself act upon his instincts, kissing you with such passion that it literally and metaphorically took your breath away. His strong arms held your body against his, as your kiss became more hungry, more lustful. Neuvillette’s dragon instincts were overpowering his thoughts, he wanted to mark you his. Only his. He wanted to show the world who you belonged to. He pinned you against the glimmering cave walls, being so easily able to control your body just by using his tail. His lips left yours, travelling down to suck on your soft skin, leaving red marks of possession wherever they travelled. At long last, he found your sweet spot, and looked up into your eyes for a second as he bit down, fangs pressing into your skin leaving a dark and permanent mating mark.

You moaned out at the feeling, gripping onto his long hair and then felt yourself gasp as a sudden power flowed into your veins. A power so strong that you knew it didn’t belong to you, it was his. By marking you he had shared his power with you, his mate. “Oh gosh neuvi…my love…”

He smiles, pulling back to look at the beautiful mark on your neck which would never fade away, and then he looked into your beautiful blue eyes which were fogged with desire. “I entrust my powers to you Mon Ange, from this day forth everyone shall know you as the Ruler of not just the mermaids, but also of the waters of Fontaine. You will forever be known as the Hydro Dragon’s mate..”

You felt breathless, yet so loved. You couldn’t believe that you had the fortune of being the Hydro Dragon’s mate. My, how lucky you were. You breathes heavily as as caressed his jaw “I am honoured to be your mate..”

He smiled at you, but the way you called yourself his made his desires even stronger. He needed to make you his, he needed to make you moan his name louder. He wanted these shining walls to be the witness of his everlasting love for you, and one look into your eyes told him that you wanted the same. He kissed you again, this time hungrily, as his lips travelled down to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily.

Your breathy moans were music to his ears, and your body was his addiction. He sucked on your nipples, making sure to give equal amounts of attention to both. After a long while of marking your breasts leaving them red and aching for more, he looked up at you, glowing eyes full of lust and his deep voice laced with desire which clearly indicated that tonight he was not going to stop anytime soon. “I love you Mon Ange..”

“I love you too, My dragon..”

This is some inspo I found on Pinterest to give you an idea of the appearances of the characters! Artwork is not mine, credits to the original owners!!

#neuvillette x reader #neuvilette smut #neuvilette #genshin fanfic #genshin impact smut #genshin fanart

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findyourlovely · 1 month

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Lots of speculation on when these two fell in love in the original timeline— here’s my personal head canon:

Michonne falls for Rick when he kills the claimers. I always felt like this was true and when Danai confirmed it I just knew I could trust their vision with the new spinoff. I started shipping Richonne together in the “must’ve been something else” era but I wasn’t actually expecting AMC to have the balls to follow through. but Michonne’s “you’re okay because I’m okay” moment sparked the hope that this relationship was really happening, just off the symbolism of what this moment meant for her.

She’s never felt like she had someone who could step up to protect her but Rick fully proves himself in that episode. That is a man who would do anythinggggg to protect his family. She doesn’t judge him, she understands he did what was necessary. And after the way she lost Andre, she could never trust her heart to a man unless he had that level of grit to protect his own.

I think she’s consciously aware of her love for him as they entered those gates at Alexandria. She doesn’t tend to initiate physical contact with Rick, but this moment with him and the kids in the car is an exception. This is her recognizing exactly how hard this journey has been for Rick and she knows that he did it anyway. For her. He lets her lead him into the future and she’s starting to wonder if it could be one where maybe they build something together for real(it’s already real she’s literally a mother to his kids and his closest confidant and he stares at her ass at every opportunity).

Ricks shenanigans with Jessie set things back but I still think she already knew her own feelings. It’s just not something she would let herself really think about until they’re in a stable place.

I think for Rick, he starts to fall in love with her after she tracks them back in S4. I don’t think he knows it yet but the way he slid down that door in happiness cannot ever be anything but loverboy behavior. This man is elated to see her and 100% would have been okay just staying holed up in that house indefinitely. She makes Carl laugh. And the next day he straight up asks her to commit to coparenting with him, so clearly Rick isn’t trying to risk a separation ever again. Michonne’s presence restores his hope. And he loves watching her sweet relationship with Carl.

Rick consciously understands the depth of his feelings for her outside those gates of Alexandria(or in the moments leading up to it). Because that man would have never walked into that community if not for Michonne’s sake(not even mentioning the 100 mile march to get there). He knows that well enough to tell her so! And now he tells her he’s struggling with how “the rules keep changing” in part because he knows she’s the one he wants to let in, and the implications of pursuing that are monumental for him and his kids. Who else matters enough for this much self reflection?

Ofc we have to wait for Rick to deal with his PTSD rebound first, but the foundation is right here. These two were already it for each other, they just needed to feel safe enough to lean into it.

Y’all let me know if your timeline is any different.

#but that’s just me tho #twd #richonne #rick and michonne #rick grimes #michonne grimes

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zepskies · 6 months

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Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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flowerandblood · 6 months

Text

Laughter from the depths (Oneshot)

[ nobility! • Aemond x rusalka demon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, angst, smut, violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of murder ]

[ description: Aemond and his family are deprived of their main estate in the capital in favour of his half-sister and have to move to a rural mansion that has long been neglected. There is a superstition among the village people that the nearby lake is home to Rusalki, beautiful female demons who tickle boys who peep at them to death. Angst, slavic demonology. ]

This oneshot is something special for me because it focuses on the lives of the people in the Slavic villages from which all my ancestors came. I am Polish, so what I am writing about has references to Polish beliefs and Polish traditions, but I suspect it was the same for all our Slavic neighbours.

In order to convey the realism of the era and the atmosphere that prevailed there, the nobility talk among themselves in French, and Polish, which I have also used here, replaces the language of Old Valyria, as some kind of relic of the past, something unworldly in the eyes of the aristocracy. Of course, all the dialogues are translated into English in brackets, but I wanted to show what my national Slavic language looks like.

I would like to point out that until the 1970s, superstitions about rusalki and other demons were very, very strong in the villages. The large percentage of people who could not write or read, the fear-mongering by local priests and organists who made money from exorcisms and banishing demons did not help at all in rationalising the events of their lives.

Slavic demonology is incredibly rich and elaborate, and often the same demons are named differently in different countries. The name Rusalka came to Poland from the territory of present-day Belarus; the same water demons were previously called topielice, panny wodne or boginki. However, the name Rusalka was adopted by Romantic writers such as Adam Mickiewicz and is therefore used most frequently today.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

They were finished. The moment his father died, he, his mother, sister and brothers lost their main residence in the capital, which from now on belonged to his half-sister, his father's daughter from his first marriage. His last will came as an unpleasant surprise to them all.

He had bequeathed them his country estate where no one had lived for years, filled with dampness and mustiness. For weeks their mother tried to get the manor house in order, pretending that their father's decision did not hurt her at all, that they would at least get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Although he loved her he laughed cruelly at her words, shaking his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. Their servants and farmhands were simple villagers who could not even sign their names.

The only ones who knew the magical skill of writing and reading were the local priest and the Jews. The Jews were the ones Aegon was most friendly with, spending whole nights in their inns.

He and his family were decent Catholics attending church every Sunday.

They attracted great interest when they arrived in their carriage. The simple-minded people often came to church from distant villages barefoot and washed their feet in a nearby lake, only then putting on their shoes, usually having only one pair that they could not destroy.

Although he and his family knew the language of his ancestors, they preferred to talk to each other in French so that no one would understand them. However, he listened one day to a loud conversation between two boys, the sons of the village miller, who lived by the lake with other children.

"Tutaj mieszkają prawdzie rusałki! Wodne panny! Boginki! Nocą tańczą i śmieją się głośno, jak gdyby miały biesiadę, demony szatana. (This is where the true Rusalki lives! Water maidens! Goddesses! At night they dance and laugh loudly, as if they were having a feast, demons of Satan.)" Described one of them excitedly, swallowing his saliva quickly seeing that everyone was listening to him.

"Nie zwracają uwagi na dzieci, ale nasz kuzyn, Janek, raz próbował złapać jedną z nich, został wciągnięty i załaskotały go na śmierć! A miał się chłopak żenić na wiosnę! I na co mu to było? (They don't pay any attention to the children, but our older cousin, Janek, once tried to catch one of them, got pulled in and they tickled him to death! The boy was supposed to get married in the spring! And what good was that to him?)"

Shaking his head as he listened to this nonsense, his younger brother approached him, looking at them curiously.

"As-tu entendu, frère? J'ai lu que les Rusalki sont comme des nymphes grecques, belles, vêtues de robes blanches translucides avec des fleurs dans les cheveux, qu'elles dansent pendant la pleine lune et jouent toute la nuit. (Have you heard, brother? I've read that Rusalki are like Greek nymphs, beautiful, dressed in translucent white robes with flowers in their hair, that they dance during the full moon and play all night.)" He whispered, and he snorted, adjusting the material of his black cuff.

"Je t'en prie. C'est une absurdité. Les superstitions des villageois ordinaires. (Please. This is some nonsense. The superstitions of ordinary villagers)." He said lowly, Daeron fell silent and lowered his head, ashamed, never bringing up this subject again.

During the sermon, the priest made it clear that he was worried that the local people still used witches and quacks, believing in all sorts of demonic activities that were obviously the result of infernal forces.

"Za stosowaną opłatą ja bądź organista zajdziemy do Waszych domów by wypędzić te bestie. (For an applicable fee, I or the organist will visit your homes to exorcise these beasts)." Said the priest, and he pressed his lips together and chuckled under his breath, arousing the interest of his mother, unable to believe that someone even so well-read was preying on the naivety of these poor people.

They didn't understand what real medicine or science was, they didn't understand that when a disabled child was born to them it wasn't the fault of a charm or that a goddess had stolen their infant, but a congenital disease.

That when gales and hailstorms came it was not the Hanged Man, the demons that suicides who died by hanging themselves became walking through the fields, but it was ordinary weather, no demonic activity.

He was appalled at how much separated him from these people, dirty, simple, living in their own dark and cruel world, housing whole families in single rooms, sleeping sometimes even with their own cattle.

Although his attitude towards the people who, after all, worked on his manor, handled his crops and harvested for a pittance was harsh, he was not a man without compassion or heart.

When it was reported in the evening that the miller's son had fallen from a height into the water and almost drowned, that he had broken his leg and needed a doctor he rushed there on horseback together with his sister.

When they arrived people were standing with candles, crying and wailing all around him, begging him to call a doctor, that they could not afford it.

He and Helaena approached the boy, he couldn't have been more than twelve years old, he had an open break in his leg, his bone sticking out of the wound, he was pale and unconscious, shaking from the cold.

"Mówię Wam, ludzie, przysięgam, to Rusałki go z wody wyciągały, uciekły z piskiem gdy wybiegłem! To pewnie one swym śpiewem go przyciągnęły! (I'm telling you, people, I swear, it was the Rusalki that pulled him out of the water, they ran away with a squeal when I rushed out! It must have been them with their singing that attracted him!)" His father mumbled beside him, but he didn't listen to them recognising that he was talking such nonsense because he was in shock.

"Retournez au manoir et ordonnez à notre mère d'appeler un médecin. Sans médicaments, il aura de la fièvre et ne passera pas la nuit. (Ride back to the manor and order our mother to call a doctor. Without medicine he will get a fever and won't survive the night)." He said to her coolly, Helaena nodded.

He looked around, feeling his heart pounding hard and then he spotted her. He saw her face between the reeds, her big, curious, bright eyes clad in long lashes, when she noticed that he had caught sight of her she furrowed her black eyebrows and sank back into the water.

He looked there thinking that she was just a girl who had decided to swim, that it was impossible for what they were saying to be true, but no one surfaced there again.

He shuddered when a villager said to him that he had brought his cart and horse, that he would follow him to the manor, and he agreed.

The boy was laid in one of the rooms meant for servants, when the doctor arrived from a nearby village after a few hours the boy already had a fever and convulsions. The doctor said he was in an agonal state and there was no point in treating him anymore.

His mother decided to give him medication anyway.

Helaena and her maid kept vigil with him all night. He went back to his room and locked himself in it, trying to sleep, but all he could think about were these bright eyes shining between the lake reeds in the moonlight.

Despite the doctor's assurances that the boy would not survive, he lasted the night, but with such a monstrous break he had to be taken to the hospital in town, where he was transported by cart along with his family at his mother's expense.

The next day, the people of the village gathered outside their manor house to give them gifts, homemade cakes and breads, eggs, vegetables, milk and cheese. Everything they had, everything of value in gratitude for their act of grace.

He thought with pain as he watched his mother and sister's conversation with these people through the window, that he had judged them as clueless and simple-minded, seeing them as a mere grey mass, when they were simply people like him, for some reason condemned by God to such a harsh, ungrateful fate.

These thoughts kept him awake, and even though he knew it was madness, he thought about going to the lake in the evening to see for himself if what he had seen was true or just a mere prediction.

He had to prove to the rational side of his mind that it was just a figment of his imagination that had occurred under the influence of extreme emotion.

Therefore, he left the manor during the warm summer night, dressed in just a white chemise, tucked into his breeches with braces. He walked through the fields, hearing the loud pounding of his heart, having the feeling that the space around him at night was incredibly unsettled and dangerous, that something was lurking and watching him in the shadows.

He had the feeling that he was losing his sanity.

And then he heard it - loud splashes and laughter.

He stopped between the trees, breathing nervously, and that's when he spotted them, the star-shining figures of young girls, water flowers woven into their loose hair, dressed in beautiful white, embroidered, translucent robes from under which one could clearly see their bodies, some of them completely naked, standing in water up to their waist, apparently just taking a bath.

They were talking animatedly to each other, comfortably spread out on the grass or dancing, eating fruits, some of them swimming or splashing the others with water, taking it as a form of teasing and fun.

He had the impression that he was looking at some mythological scene, that he was just watching nymphs in the bath, beautiful, wild and unpredictable.

His heart was pounding like mad, he could not take his eyes off them.

However, one of them spotted him in the distance and squealed loudly, the others immediately rose up, frightening him, reminding him of the boy's words about killing men who peeped at them.

But they fled instead, one by one sinking into the depths of the water, disappearing beneath its mirror, leaving him with only the restless sound of the water and the silence around him.

He walked on trembling legs closer to the shore on the rustling grass, breathing unevenly, feeling as if his heart would leap out of his chest.

He sat down on the sand, looking at the depths in front of him and the great reflection of the moon that was painted on it, thinking only that this was true, that all around him lived beings that could not be comprehended by the human mind.

He shuddered and jumped up in place, moving away, hearing rustling among the reeds, noticing the same pale face as before, her eyes shining with concern and curiosity, her hair wet, some of its strands stuck to her face, on her head a wreath of tiny fresh flowers she must have woven for herself that night.

"Chłopiec. (The little boy)." He heard her voice, trembling, uncertain, determined, frightened. "Przeżył? (Did he survive?)"

He thanked God that as a child he had applied himself to learning the language of his ancestors, that he had even felt proud to speak it until he discovered that everyone in the salons of the capital spoke only French.

"Tak. (Yes)." He heard his own low voice, and felt a shudder at the thought that he had forgotten how melodious and pleasant the language was, at once hard and soft, rustling like the leaves of the trees, reeds and grasses around them.

They looked at each other for a long moment in silence, her gaze softening slightly.

"Uratowałeś go. (You saved him)." She said after a moment, her voice tender and warm, incredibly pleasant to his ear. "Ty i dziewczyna z włosami jasnymi jak księżyc. Czy to Twoja żona? (You and the girl with hair as light as the moon. Is that your wife?)"

He licked his lower lip, looking at her with wide-open eyes, feeling his heart pounding like mad, his body all tensed up.

"Nie. To moja siostra. (No. She's my sister)." He replied in a trembling voice and she blinked, cocking her head as if she didn't understand the meaning of the word.

He drew in the air loudly when he heard the loud splash of water as she rose from her knees, walking slowly towards him among the tall grasses and lily pads, the level of the lake now only reaching her thighs.

He could see her robe, all soaked through, clinging to her beautiful naked body, her skin the colour of pearls, her nipples were darker, like gemstones placed on her soft, firm chest.

He had never seen a naked woman before in his life.

She emerged from the grasses onto the shore, standing before him without a shadow of shame or fear, as if she understood perfectly how beautiful her body was and that he could admire her was merely an act of her grace.

"Ktoś odebrał Ci coś, co do niego nie należało. (Someone took from you something that didn't belong to them)." She said quietly, as if in surprise, and he realised, horrified and embarrassed, that she was talking about his eye patch, his scar on his cheek and in the presence of her beauty he was overwhelmed by the magnitude of his ugliness.

He swallowed with difficulty, terrified and shocked as she moved slowly, lightly towards him, afraid to make any move, not knowing if she would then suddenly transform into an aggressive, terrifying beast.

He felt both discomfort and excitement at the same time when she sat down next to him and he could look at her shamelessly naked body from so close, her robe all wet, covering absolutely nothing. He shuddered and drew in the air loudly as she reached up with a slight movement to his eye patch and grabbed her aggressively by the wrist.

Her pupils narrowed dangerously in rage, her expression changed, she pulled away from him and took a few steps back as if she was about to scream and call out to her friends, but she hesitated, looking at him with wide eyes.

He raised his trembling hand to his eyepatch, breathing loudly, he could see that she was watching his every move alertly, that what he did now weighed on whether he would live or die.

He slid the material off his face, for the first time in front of a stranger, for the first time in front of a woman, feeling oddly exposed and weak even though she was the one who was naked.

He was afraid that he would see disgust, that she would run away screaming, but he saw that her gaze slowly became gentle and curious again, her expression calm once more, her forehead straight and clear.

It seemed to him that she was reactive and curious about everything like a small child.

He swallowed loudly as she moved across the sand on her knees towards him, not a trace of her earlier aggression and rage. She sat even closer to him than before, leaning over the scarred part of his face, over his artificial white eye.

She looked at him with some kind of disbelief and shock, her lips slightly parted, as if he were some kind of magical being, not her. To his surprise, however, the expression on her face did not show any terror, he could feel the drops of water from her hair and her robe dripping onto his trousers, his hands clenched into fists on the grass.

He had no idea what he was feeling, many emotions running through him at once.

Fear, anxiety, excitement, curiosity, delight.

He gasped, pale, as she raised her hand, this time glancing at his face, as if to see if he would once again try to touch her. He didn't move, though; he didn't want to make the same mistake.

He felt a shudder when her moist, warm, soft, delicate fingers touched his scar and ran over it in a gentle motion that seemed to him like the ruffling of a feather.

"Czy sprawiam Ci ból? (Am I causing you pain?)" She asked quietly, glancing at his healthy eye, and he only shook his head, enchanted, his throat compressed, unable to get the words out, his heart pounding like mad.

He fascinated her.

She didn't run away from him.

He wondered if he could ask her a question.

Would he enrage her again if he tried?

He feared she was about to leave once and for all and he would never see her again, regretting for the rest of his life that he had remained silent when she sat being so close.

"Uratowałaś go? Tego chłopca. (You saved him? That young boy.)" He muttered lowly, looking at her with wide eyes. She took her hand away immediately, frightened, looking at him anxiously, her lips tightening as if she wondered if she should speak to him.

She looked down at her thighs, running her fingers over the sand, all around them was the pleasant, quiet sound of water, the rustling of grass and the singing of crickets.

"Tak. Topił się. Taki młody. (Yes. He was drowning. So young)." She whispered, and he licked his lips dried with stress, feeling that this was his chance, that he had won her trust.

"Nie zabijacie dzieci ani kobiet. (You don't kill children or women)." He murmured, and she looked at him alertly, measuring him with a gaze so impenetrable that a shudder went through him.

"Nie. Tylko mężczyzni próbują wziąć to co nie ich. Jak gdyby byli naszymi mężami. (No. Only men try to take what is not theirs. As if they were our husbands)." She said coldly. He pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, subconsciously understanding what she was talking about.

They were killing men who tried to take them by force.

"Ale Ty nie próbowałeś mnie dotknąć. I uratowałeś tego chłopca, mężczyzno z białym okiem. (But you don't try to touch me. And you saved that boy, man with the white eye)." She said softly, looking at him curiously, leaning on one hand, her body curving like a spiral, slender and beautiful, shining in the moonlight.

He tried to look at her face but did so with difficulty, feeling a strong throbbing in his breeches. He was afraid she would see it, so he lifted his knees higher to shield himself.

She shuddered when he made the move, alert, but when she saw that he had merely changed position she relaxed again, settling down next to him in a half-lying position.

"Dlaczego mężczyźni to robią? Co takiego robią swoim żonom, że aż tak bardzo tego pragną? (Why do men do this? What do they do to their wives that makes them want it so much?)" She asked curiously, looking at him with a lightness that surprised him; he had the impression that her mood was as changeable as the weather.

He swallowed loudly, wondering how he should explain it to her, what to say to her to please her.

"Gdy mężczyzna bierze kobietę za żonę, stają się jednym w obliczu Boga i całego świata. Łączą się podczas nocy poślubnej swoimi ciałami. (When a man takes a woman as his wife, they become one in the face of God and the whole world. They unite during their wedding night with their bodies)." He said in a trembling voice, and she blinked, turning her head, her gaze bright and intrigued, listening to him intently.

"Ciałami? Dlatego próbują nas dotknąć? (With their bodies? Is that why they try to touch us?)" She asked as if she had just solved a riddle, and he nodded, not knowing what more he could say, embarrassed.

"Dlaczego są tak agresywni? Czy to bolesne? Krzywdzicie swoje żony? (Why are they so aggressive? Is it painful? Are you hurting your wives?)" She asked, wrinkling her eyebrows, clearly trying to compare the behaviour of the men she'd experienced with what he'd said and form a meaningful picture in her head.

He swallowed loudly, feeling his heart pounding hard as he played with the fingers of his hands.

"Nie. Dobry mąż nie krzywdzi swojej żony, tylko daje jej przyjemność. (No. A good husband doesn't hurt his wife, he just gives her pleasure)." He said uncertainly, her eyes shining, she moved closer to him, so close that he could smell her skin, the scent of water and flowers, her face flushed and soft, on her eyelashes the drops sparkled like small diamonds.

"A Ty? Jesteś dobrym mężem? (And you? Are you a good husband?)" She asked warmly, as if she recognised that she liked him, that she would not hurt him. He looked at her with slightly parted lips.

"Ja...ja nie mam jeszcze żony. (I…I don't have a wife yet)." He mumbled, breathing unevenly, feeling that he was already completely hard, she was so incredibly beautiful that he couldn't believe she was actually sitting in front of him.

He thought despairingly, although he had always laughed at men who ran after women, that he must have just fallen in love.

She blinked at his words, looking intently at his face, her gaze roaming over his nose, his lips, his cheeks, feeling that he was hot even though the night was pleasantly cool.

"Dlaczego? (Why?)" She asked and smiled. He felt a tightness in his throat, he was having increasing trouble putting his thoughts together into meaningful sentences.

"Nie wiem. (I don't know.)" He muttered, himself having no idea why, at the age he was, he still refused his mother when she said he had found a suitable candidate.

He didn't want to take as his wife a girl who would only be with him out of an unpleasant obligation, unable to look at his face every day.

"Skąd mężczyzna i kobieta wiedzą, że chcą zostać jednym? (How do a man and a woman know that they want to become one?)" She asked curiously, and he gave her a quick, embarrassed look.

He was silent for a long moment, unable to say anything.

"Gdy kobieta pragnie mężczyzny, staje się mokra między udami. Gdy mężczyzna pragnie kobiety, staje się tam twardy. (When a woman desires a man, she becomes wet between her thighs. When a man desires a woman, he becomes hard there)." He said in a trembling voice, watching her reactions, but she seemed even more intrigued by his words and drew in air loudly, her cheeks blushing a little more.

"Kiedy jest tak mokra jak ja? (When she's as wet as I am?)" She asked innocently surprising him completely, taking his hand in hers and slipping it between her warm thighs, pressing it against her womanhood, sticky and moist with her juices.

He looked up at her in disbelief, breathing rapidly, terrified and aroused, he felt like his length was about to explode with desire.

"Tak. (Yes)." He whispered, she parted her lips slightly as he ran his fingers over her soft folds, he felt a point under her skin from which her whole body shuddered, looking at him with fear and warmth at the same time.

She began to breathe faster and relaxed her grip on his wrist as he began to massage her in slow, circular motions, just as he had read in books in which he had discovered with embarrassment how men satisfy women.

He felt her involuntarily spread her thighs in front of him, allowing him to sink his fingers into her hot flesh, her almost naked breasts rising and falling in quickened, rippling breaths, her beautiful face all red, her lips puffy and glistening.

"− oh −" She mumbled simultaneously pulling away and pressing herself against his hand, herself unsure of what she felt, his fingers growing stickier and stickier with her moisture, his movements accompanied by a loud, wet click.

He saw her hand rise uncertainly to his knee and slide down his thigh, making a powerful shudder run through him. Her fingers ran over the bulge beneath his breeches, and he groaned low, surprised.

"Jesteś twardy. (You're hard)." She hummed with some kind of warmth, and he nodded, licking his lips, unable to focus on anything other than the touch of her soft hands between his thighs.

"Mocniej. (Harder)." He gasped, and she obeyed him, pressing her fingers against his manhood and hiding under the material of his trousers, trailing them up and down in a slow motion.

"Cały pulsujesz. (It's throbbing all over)." She whispered, and he closed his eyes, unsure if he had ever been so aroused before in his life, so thirsty for anyone's touch, breathing loudly along with her, their hips moving against each other in the direction of the movements of their hands.

"Czy to oznacza, że powinieneś wziąć mnie za swoją żonę? (Does this mean you should take me as your wife?)" She asked quietly, and he simply nodded.

"Tak. (Yes)."

She moaned sweetly, innocently, surprised, as his finger made its way inside her, teasing her, her body began to push against him, wanting to feel him deeper, her nipples all hard and stiff seeping through the transparent material of her robe.

"Weź mnie. (Take me)." She whispered and he thrust against her, drinking himself into her sweet, wet lips, she moaned loudly into his mouth, clamping her hands in his hair, spreading her thighs in front of him, watching carefully as he pulled his braces off his shoulders and quickly unbuttoned his breeches.

"To może odrobinę zaboleć. Nie obawiaj się, jeśli zechcesz, przestanę. Nie skrzywdzę Cię. (This might hurt a bit. Don't be frightened, if you want me to, I'll stop. I won't hurt you)." He mumbled out, breathing loudly, feeling how much they were both trembling, and she nodded, looking at him with a trusting expression that took him completely by surprise.

He slid into her with difficulty, her insides clenching against him, trying to resist him, however to no avail, the desperate thrusts of his hips and her slippery wetness allowed him to slip all the way into her.

She parted her lips wide and sighed helplessly, wrinkling her eyebrows as if in worry, certain she had never felt anything like this before in her life, this kind of fullness.

With an involuntary, subconscious movements, he began to move inside her, with sure thrusts of his hips filling her, each time he rubbed her right at her entrance a loud, surprised cry came from her lips.

"− czy będę teraz twoją żoną? (will I be your wife now?) −" She exhaled, stroking his scarred cheek with her soft fingers, her breasts bouncing slightly at each of his thrusts, his length pulsed hard inside her at her question.

"− tak (yes) − od teraz będziesz tylko moja (you'll only be mine from now on) −" He muttered and she blushed, looking up at him with a warmth from which he sped up, her insides so wonderfully tight and hot that he lost control completely, their bodies bumping against each other with a loud splat.

"− a ty? (and you?) − będziesz tylko mój? (will you be only mine?) −" She asked softly and he whispered that he will, before he pressed himself into her lips, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat, muffling her moans as his fingers tightened on her thighs, his length piercing her with all the strength he had in his hips.

"− o kurwa (oh fuck) −" He panted into her mouth, knowing, after all, that he was a devoted believer and servant of the church, that he prayed every Sunday, however, no prayer now seemed as salutary to him as the thought that he was about to come deep inside her, that he was about to cum in that tight, wet cunt.

They fucked like a couple in a brothel, like villagers on straw in a barn, wild and hot, their hands clenched on each other's bodies in a final decision that they would not let go until they had experienced fulfilment.

He saw her eyes close as she threw her head back with her mouth wide open and moaned helplessly, almost crying as waves of hot pleasure shook her body, her walls began to clench against him, making him start to moan low, giving in completely, letting his hot seed fill her.

He collapsed on top of her, crushing her with the weight of his body, trembling all over, her small hands embracing his waist, both of them unable to calm down, breathing loudly, writhing beneath each other, his hips moving inside her for a moment longer.

"− zapomnisz o mnie (you'll forget me) − już nigdy nie wrócisz (you'll never come back) −" She whispered in a quivering voice, and he pressed his face against her wet cheek, running the tip of his nose over her skin hot with exertion.

"− mylisz się (you're wrong) − zabiorę Cię z sobą (I'll take you with me) − miejsce żony jest z jej mężem (a wife's place is with her husband) −"

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

320 notes · View notes

flordeamatista · 1 year

Note

ok but “i’ll eat you out if that makes you feel better” with this dbf!ari

Skin

pairing: dbf!ari levinson x reader

concept: Oh, honey, how I lust for you

word count: 1.5k

warnings: Poetic fluff with cute themes, poetic desire, fingering, reader mas-turbating, age gap, hair pulling on sweet Ari's hair, body worship, or-al (female receiving), c-um- play, nickname- (Honey),

a/n: It's a daydream I created for my own writing challenge Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge using two songs: Skin and Woo (the melody of the song)

I hope you can see the inspiration behind an old menace attack @sunshinebuckybarnes and thank you @mellowsaturns

lovely beta: @lunarbuck

Masterlist

Sunlight peeks through the blinds as it sets on another lonely afternoon

You have been consumed by stress over this design for the past few weeks. You have been unable to focus on anything else, and the pressure has been overwhelming. You know you must finish it for your client, but it feels impossible.

You need a break.

Taking a break is necessary to recharge and refocus your energy, allowing you to return to sewing with a clearer head.

All you need is some self-care and a thousand orgasms, and he's the only one you want to fulfill. You can feel the tension and stress leaving your body, and you can start to relax, allowing you to focus and feel more energized.

You close your eyes and imagine being in his big arms, feeling his tender caresses and hearing his whispered words of love. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, feeling a sense of peace that washes over you.

I need to be adored and cherished

He just wanted to make sure you were okay. Having missed you at your family events, he’s been craving the opportunity to tease you since he knows what an impact he has on you. Your innocent eyes glow when you giggle, and your voice resonates with sweetness like honey in the air.. Considering he is your father's new business partner, he should not flirt with you, but he can't help but do so since you are so unique. He can't help but admire you. He knows, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to get to know you better.

He sees the half-open door in the studio office back at your house and knows you are inside. He enters the room, determined to get your attention. He hears your voice, but it is drowned out by moans.

Pleasure-filled.

All coherent thoughts leave his head and are blown away. It’s as if his mind is a canvas, and the explosion of emotions have painted it with an abstract swirl of colors. It never occurred to him that you would be pleasuring yourself out in the open and looking like a goddess with your hand between your legs while you lost in thought. The mix of emotions is like a tornado of colors, both vibrant and chaotic, that leaves his mind in a swirl of awe and delight. He will love having your legs around his head.

He stands in front of you, his eyes meeting your body, and he cautiously takes a step closer.

And no one else will ever know the true depth of our desire for each other.

Normally, he’d walk away, but he can’t when he hears you moaning, calling his name like a siren. He takes another step forward, his hands slowly reaching out to explore your body as he licks his lips. He can’t resist anymore and finally succumbed to his desires, walking closer until his breath fans over you.

You feel excitement wash over you, and you reach for your hand when you hear a sound from your fantasy world. You open your eyes and see a scene that you have imagined for so long. You take a moment to take it all in and take him in.

A fantasy, a moan.

"Ari, I was stressed. I didn't mean to do that," you whisper. You’re embarrassed that he saw and heard you calling his name.

Ari takes a deep breath and holds your gaze, his expression communicating understanding and compassion."It's alright," he says softly. "We all get stressed sometimes." He steps closer, his hand lightly touching yours.

You feel the warmth of his hand, and the tension in your body begins to ease.

A gentle smirk spreads across his face as he comments, "And you looked so peaceful, so relaxed, moaning my name."

It melts my heart to see your desire.

Ari grabs your wrist, belonging to the hand you had fucked yourself with, and brings your fingers to his mouth. His lips are gentle as he kisses each finger softly and slowly, taking his time to savor the taste of you on them.

Your neck is exposed to his lips as he slowly draws kisses from your fingers to your neck. His wet lips and beard mark your skin. His touch is gentle as he trails his fingers across your neck, and his lips press against your skin. His breath is warm and sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the electricity between you two, and the moments pass like seconds.

Despite the danger and wildness, you wanted to keep going with him.

"Please, Ari!" You need him more and more. Ari smiles and lowers his head to capture your lips with his own.

"Honey, what do you need? I'm glad to help you.” His tiny pecks and nibbles travel down the low neckline of your dress and nip gently at the curve of your breasts. Spitting on his fingers, he traces circles around your nipples with his cold fingers, sending shivers down your spine and inducing gasps in response. “I'll eat you out if that makes you feel better. I've got you.” He pulls back a bit, holding onto you so you will stay steady.

See you, touch you, kiss you!

“Stay there,” he demands.

Clearly, he knows what he was doing.

Bringing his palms up inch by inch, he kisses your thighs, his lips climbing higher and higher until he reaches your pussy. Before he walked in on you, you had taken off your underwear. "Relax, Honey, you're going to feel alive, I swear it." Ari blows gently on your pussy.

Kneeling down, he presses a kiss across your thighs, inching his way up. Using his large palms, he traces his tongue along your inner thighs until his face fades away between your legs. His tongue paints circles around your core, his lips and tongue working in tandem as he drags out your pleasure.

His fingers move in circles, pressing in and out as his tongue alternates between licking and sucking. Grabbing onto his hair, you pull it as you hear him mumble, "My sweet pussy"

Ari moves his finger with a slow, regular rhythm. Increasing his pace, Ari's movements become more vigorous, and he teases you with every stroke, edging you closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure.

He gave you what you wanted most. He made you feel special.

“So wet and tight for me.” His words bring you closer to the edge “My sweet Honey is so naughty for me, only for me.”

In an instant, he slips in and out, sliding in a second finger while teasing your clit with his thumb. It is like a conductor leading an orchestra, gently guiding you towards the crescendo of bliss. Your breasts produce a fantastic display of cleavage as he watches them rise and fall with his movements.

Ari groans into your clit, flicking his tongue against it, craning his fingers forward so he can find the tender spot inside that pushes your body to the edge. You gasp as he hits the spot, his tongue and fingers working together in sync. Your body quivers and your orgasm comes closer. He keeps up the pressure, and soon enough you feel yourself falling over the edge. Ari laps up the evidence of your pleasure before resting his forehead against your inner thigh, breathing heavily. He kisses your stomach softly and pulls away, his eyes heavy with satisfaction.

I map every inch of your sweet skin with fierce kisses

You smile, feeling a warmth like never before spread through your body.

"Feel better, Honey," he says, lips glistening. As you release his long dark brown hair from your fingertips, you tug him just a little so that he can stand up and kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips with the mixture of his own unique taste.

His fingers fumble for the hem of your dress, and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head. "I need another thing to help me," you repeat to him, looking into his blue ocean eyes as you jump onto him.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, Ari carries you out to perform yet another stress-relief exercise. "Let's do something big to forget the world," you moan in his ear. With a swift motion, he carries you up the stairs and away from reality.

You are both off to a place where the worries of the world seem to be forgotten.

Oh, honey, how I lust for you

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rocketturtle4 · 2 months

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City of Stars is starting to drive me a little crazy…anyone else??

Okay so I have no idea how many people are watching this show but this weeks ep (#6) cemented for me that this show is intentionally playing with us, the BL audience, and our expectations of BL.

We have been presented and consistently shown mature, down to earth characters who express their emotions, communicate, help each other, mess with each other, and basically act like rational adults.

And yet this week for a full 2 minutes, I fully believed Krom had taken one look at the strange man in Fueangs bedroom and run straight back home with his mother’s caution echoing inside his head.

But he didn’t and Feaung explained and later we even got Krom being UP FRONT about his insecurities!!

I felt a bit like a new faen being put through trust exercises by my too good to be a true lover.

This was the most extreme example but it’s done it in a ton of other ways too, just in this ep we had things including

Ooops sent the wrong clip, will the friends explode and ruin the relationship

Will Feaung be mad that the friends know

Oh the parents know, now what??

Unequal understanding of the date! Now what?

You know how many of these caused explosions? NONE

Last week we had “Feungs big secret” as a driving force for concern but the show turned that on it’s head too!

And it did it by making fun of everyone being able to sing

This show is picking up the BL tropes, the BL mold and showing it to us like: THIS? This is what you’ve been dealing with in the past? And don’t get me wrong, I have a spreadsheet that just hit 165 BLs to very much prove I like the model.

But this show

This show is taking a trope and making it real,

or making fun of it,

or both.

Have I lost you?

That guitar scene at the end was a great example, Thai BL boys seem to take guitars wherever they go and pull them out at the drop of a hat. This show:

Made fun of that trope by making Fueang bad at singing

Added depth to that trope by making it a result of childhood trauma

Threw in some communication

And voila a guitar scene that was an emotional HIGH, regardless of your opinion on singing.

This show is saying TRUST ME, we aren’t going to steer you off a cliff,

(even as it laughingly might grab you by the shoulders and push-pull you at the edge just to see you panic for a moment lol)

I am having a very good time with it, I have no idea how we’re going to pan out, and given the reoccurring fakeouts I am now highly suspicious of it’s intro scene in ep 1. But I am seriously starting to trust this show. I feel like I can take my hands of the rails throw them in the air and enjoy the ride

Anyone coming?

(Don't get me wrong, the tropes are stil everywhere)

#City of Stars #City of Stars the series #Thai BL #rturts is wondering

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tehloserprince · 7 months

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Some folks asked me to post/share this here because they found it useful, so ...

I was a little surprised by the amount of people who thought Gabriel and Beelzebub literally met only three times before deciding they were in love and running off together. It's true that we see three pivotal moments in Gabriel's memories, and I think @neil-gaiman and co. showed the audience these specific moments for a reason, but the writing and visual cues in each of the scenes seemed to be done in a way that would emphasize the passage of time between meetings and the development of the relationship between Gabriel and Beelzebub to the audience.

First Meeting: I believe this one happened not too long after Armageddon failed to materialize. We're given an immediate visual cue from Gabriel, whose outfit is closer to what he wore in S1; he's wearing the same scarf and jacket that he wore throughout that season, and also when he met Beelzebub on the Tadfield airbase. Could be appropriate attire for the season, since we do see Gabriel wearing the coat again a bit later (sans scarf).

At their meeting, Gabriel is seated on the left and Beelzebub is on the right. Their meeting place seems to be somewhere in Russia (away from their home territories). The table is rather large, creating some distance between the two of them. Their body language is also a lot more guarded: legs and arms crossed at times, and they tend to lean away from each other more throughout the conversation. This meeting is short, but there are some sparks between the two of them: the gentle teasing ("well, you lost"/"so did you"), Beelzebub crossing their arms and trying not to smile at Gabriel's "Arma-bloody-geddon" moment, and the shared understanding over the burdens of being the respective Commanders-in-Chief of Heaven and Hell.

It ends with Gabriel leaving quickly after saying it's a pity they'll never speak again, but ...

Second Meeting: ... obviously, they do end up speaking again. When Gabriel enters this particular meeting, he's wearing an outfit closer to what we see him wearing in S2 prior to him losing his memory. Again, possibly a seasonal cue as well. At the beginning of the Second Meeting, Gabriel sits down across from Beelzebub and immediately proposes the idea of "no Armageddon." He would have no reason to do that unless there had been other meetings that deepened their initial connection and made him realize that hey, a victory for Heaven would mean NO Beelzebub, which would kind of suck because he's grown to enjoy their company and their little "work meetings."

While they've built a sort of rapport over their work lives, there seems to be something else simmering beneath the surface. This is reflected in more visual cues: their body language seems more comfortable/relaxed - they lean towards one another as opposed to leaning back and maintaining distance; the table itself is much smaller (meaning they're seated closer together/with less distance between them); and they've also switched sides - Beelzebub is now seated on the left and Gabriel is on the right. Their meeting place seems to be a bar in America, which might mean they've still been avoiding any meetings in their home territories.

Beelzebub is open to Gabriel's suggestion and agrees to it almost immediately. Instead of rushing off like he did after their first meeting, Gabriel remains seated and Beelzebub seems to get a bit flustered by his gaze. They discuss the music playing on the jukebox, and Beelzebub is so much more patient with Gabriel's lack of knowledge than they would have been with anyone else. There are multiple layers to Gabriel's line, "Then ... I also like it." The little subtleties from Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn add a wonderful depth to these short scenes tbh.

At the end of the meeting, Beelzebub straightens up, fixes their gaze on Gabriel, and very pointedly states that there's "no NEED for them to ever meet again," smiling slightly as they wait for his response ("none whatsoever"). The wording there is important because ...

Third Meeting: ... there IS no "need" for them to ever meet again. From here on out, they're meeting solely because they WANT to be in each other's company. They're no longer pretending that their meetings are strictly business, and they're also not limiting themselves to locations outside their home territories. I get the feeling that the Third Meeting the audience gets to see was more like their "first date." Instead of meeting directly at a public location to discuss "business," Gabriel takes Beelzebub to see something important to him. Of course, this is Gabriel we're talking about, and he's taken Beelzebub to see the statue of him in a local cemetery in Edinburgh. But still! The statue is meaningful to him, and he wanted to share that with Beelzebub. They're even standing right next to each other as the scene begins, with Beelzebub's head cocked to listen as Gabriel speaks. Shelley Conn gives us this awesome moment of Beelzebub looking at Gabriel almost wistfully, and mmm do I have Some Thoughts about that entire scene. I've shared them elsewhere, maybe I'll eventually post them over here, but the TLDR is that yeah, I feel like they're wishing Gabriel would look at them Like That. I also think maybe there was some larger doubt re: whether or not the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, God's Messenger, would ever love a demon over their heavenly duty/station. But I digress.

Following their excursion to see the statue, Beelzebub and Gabriel wind up at The Resurrectionist. Gabriel's been wearing that coat again, which could show another shift in the seasons. Instead of sitting across from each other, Gabriel and Beelzebub are now seated next to each other in a cozy booth. The candles and dim lighting give it a romantic feel. Adding to that clumsy sort of romantic feeling, we see Gabriel and Beelzebub each doing something nice for the other just to see them happy. Gabriel performs a small miracle on the jukebox to have it play what has essentially become "their" song, and Beelzebub gifts a fly in return - essentially, a small piece of themselves, as they are the Lord of the Flies after all. It also happens to be the first thing anyone's ever given to Gabriel, a fact that has quite an impact on Beelzebub.

When Aziraphale is talking to the owner of The Resurrectionist, he learns that the jukebox miracle occurred "last year." So we can deduce (detective word!) that Gabriel and Beelzebub had been "dating" for about a year prior to his "disappearance." A year is a long time for them to develop much deeper feelings and intimacy. Not necessarily talking about sex there either, because folks can imagine whatever they want to in that regard. I mean intimacy in the sense of knowing and feeling comfortable with each other. The way they hold hands and have their arms around each other in the S2 finale indicates that they'd gotten pretty cozy with all of that. I mean, come on, look at how happy Gabriel was to see them once his memories were returned and how immediately his entire demeanor changed.

In the brief moments we see Gabriel prior to his memory loss, he's behaving differently from his S1 counterpart, who was a lot more rigid and laser-focused on Armageddon. Even Beelzebub seems a bit changed; that scene with Demon Josh is a great example. Granted, Beelzebub was more subdued/worried about Gabriel in that moment, but it seems like they'd grown a longer fuse and/or were less quick to anger/annoyance. Daydreaming can do that to a demon, I suppose.

I love this pairing; they're such a great example of how loving someone and being loved in return can bring out the "real"/best version of yourself. I'd totally read an entire novel about them. And can I just add once again that the visual cues were so well done? Not just the acting from Shelley Conn and Jon Hamm, who really brought a lot to the table (see what I did there) with their facial expressions and mannerisms, but the actual visual cues in each of these scenes: the way the two of them were gradually seen to be sitting closer until they were seated right next to each other; the shift in body language between meetings; the way they switched sides during each of the meetings we got to see, as opposed to Aziraphale and Crowley having dominant "sides" that we tend to see them on; etc. I could write an essay on this (more than I already have) so I'll have to stop myself now.

Anyway. Screenplays are neat, and it's fun to see how words and imagery combine to tell a much larger story. Of course, you need great actors to really bring it all home, and thankfully we've been blessed with many in Good Omens. Much love to Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn for their work here.

#good omens #good omens 2 #gomens #ineffable bureaucracy #boxfly #beelzebub x gabriel #gabriel x beelzebub #lord beelzebub #archangel gabriel #s2 ep6 #shut up j #listen i just enjoy analyzing media sometimes #especially when it brings me serotonin

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taranida · 6 days

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What exactly happened in the 70’s

I’ll start with The Poet and The Muse. I’ve written about the real Thomas Zane being a poet already, but left out this piece of evidence (not at all on purpose, truth be told), but I want to discuss it here, since it goes well with the point I want to make.

In the song we learn the story of a Poet living happily with his Muse and telling her stories about treasures beneath the waves. Then one morning the Muse goes to the lake and drowns. The Poet at some point realises that something happened and comes to the lake, calling for the Muse, but to no avail. Whole day spent in search, and in his desperation, he swears to bring his love back. He writes a story and succeeds to some degree. The husk of the Muse comes to him in the night, possessed by some dark force. The Poet takes her in, but in trying to fix his mistake, vows them both to silence beneath the lake. The story concluded with the peculiar:

Now if its real or just a dream One mystery remains For it is said on moonless nights They may still haunt this place

Now, what exactly the boys of the Old Gods of Asgard are hinting at here (aside from the existence of the Dark and Bright Presences) I can’t tell for sure: they might just toy with all those who have that buzzing question of “who wrote whom”, but I will treat the story of Thomas Zane the Poet as a true story, that happened without any help of tortured writers. Although I will use the manuscripts as well as every other source of information.

Prepare for a long read, since firstly, I would like to present all the bits and pieces that I’ve managed to collect, and then tie them all up in a version of events, I believe, happened in July 1970.

First, the dialogs.

Tor and Odin (whom I cannot stop lovingly call “the boys”) say this:

“Tom’s just lost, is all. Baba Yaga got to him too, the damn witch!” “She used us all, taken from all of us. Took my thunder, the witch.” “And my ravens, what was...what were they? Memory and Thought! The hag.” “She took something from you too, didn’t she? That’s what she does.” “Oh, we’re better off. This place, the lake, it gives you power. If you’re a creator.... An artist, a god!” “Nightmares shifted in their sleep in the darkness of the lake...” “Heh heh, yeah, that’s the one. She makes sure it comes out twisted and wrong. Just ask the Lamp Lady. She knows what happened to that other writer.”

Cynthia Weaver tells us:

“I knew them both. Tom and Barbara. I had such a crush on him...such a beautiful man. I was jealous. There was a part of me that was maybe a little glad when she had the accident. And then Tom started writing and woke the darkness up.... He tried to bring her back...but you can’t do that. There are no free rides like that.” […] “The witch looked like her, but it wasn’t. Barbara was sweet. He didn’t understand until it was too late. He tried to undo it, wrote himself, her, everything he’d ever written out of the world.”

We have Samantha’s dream in “This House of Dreams”, that gives us even more details:

“The diver told me that a dark presence had taken over his girlfriend (the woman in the photos). He’d tried everything he could think of to banish it from her, but everything had failed. In the end, he finally understood what he had to do, finally understood the true nature of the dark place that was hidden under the waves of the lake where they lived. The lake was an opening to dark place that was much bigger than the lake itself, in fact, much bigger than the whole universe we live in. He wrote one last poem, his masterpiece, a secret poem, a hidden poem, a poem that’s not among the poems I’ve found in the shoebox. And he took his girlfriend for one last dive. Together they sank down into the depths, far deeper than he had ever dived before.”

Then we have the manuscripts, that expand on the story:

More so, we have the dates and newspaper articles:

The last one is cut awkwardly, but, really, all I needed from it are the dates of publishing and of the seismic activity.

So, what really happened during this week? On the morning of 10th July Barbara went for a swim and drowned. As Cynthia notes in her article, Barbara was quite a swimmer and her death does seem odd. At the same time, we have another article (that I will put in the very end for those who are curious) about a writer visiting the area and encountering Taken — Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton dated 6th July 1970. Thomas even makes a snarky remark about not ever hearing about him and calling him “an uninvited guest”. All hints that with all the artists in the area: the boys of Old Gods of Asgard, Thomas Zane, Cynthia Weaver and Barbara Jagger, the Dark Presence still pounces on every other creator unfortunate enough to choose Bright Falls as a place to visit. Might’ve been because it could not make the gang mentioned above do its bidding?

The Dark Presence might be of a very different mind, alien to humans, but it’s cunning. As stated in one of the manuscripts, when it senses Alan, “all he'd need was a little incentive.” For Alan it had to drag Alice to the pier and into the lake; for Thomas it might’ve used the help of its ravens or some other means necessary to overwhelm Barbara long enough for her to drown, as at the time the Dark Presence had no physical body (but there might’ve been some other Taken swimmer around). And after Thomas spent the whole day searching for his lover, succumbing to desperation more and more, he got that incentive, the Dark Presence needed.

In the night Thomas wrote a poem to bring Jagger back. The Dark Presence plan worked and it was now in the world, almost free, wearing Barbara’s skin. But it was still constrained by the story Thomas wrote, and in his story he surely wrote something along the lines of them being together and in love again, therefore we see that the Dark Presence cannot do anything to Thomas as he ties it to the chair, carves its heart out and writes countless pieces to undo his mistake. It just couldn’t get out of the role of the loving Barbara, who would never hurt Zane. It had to go through the story in which, probably, Thomas and Barbara lived happily ever after and died on the same day, to be completely free. Which doesn’t mean that the very, pardon, presence of the Dark Presence in the world was not affecting Bright Falls at the time, the Taken might’ve been multiplying and awful things happening during this week. Yet, unlike Alan, Thomas didn’t go into the woods, fighting for his life, he searched for a solution at the cabin, armed with his typewriter and the (kitchen) knife.

The only solution he found in the end — one last dive. To bring this darkness back to where it came from.

There are still a few mysteries left:

in the guide for the first game we can read excerpts from the book “Taken by the Dark Presence” found in a shoebox that has no author, but has initials of T.Z. and J.Z. on some pages, apparently written in the late 1960’s. And, oh boy, I have lots of questions for this one!

the Bird Leg Cabin and the Diver’s Isle, that might or might not been retroactively removed by the eruption under the Cauldron Lake.

the extent of Thomas’ writing powers, since as much as it is stressed a lot that he wrote himself out of reality, Barry, with a little research, is still able to find out about his existence, yet Alan in one of the “Writer in the Cabin” TV’s claims “A story is a beast with a life of its own. You can create it, shape it, but as the story grows, it starts wanting things of its own. Change one thing, and you set off a chain reaction of events that spreads through the whole thing.” The chain reaction here never happens: we have hard evidence that both Thomas and Barbara existed.

But those are theories for another day. This is already a long enough read to throw those into the mix.

And here’s the article about Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton (spoiler alert: there is another one, confirming that he died):

#alan wake 2 #alan wake #thomas zane #alan wake ii #alan wake remastered #remedy entertainment #remedy connected universe #remedy games #RCU theory #alan wake game #tom zane

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barelytolerabled · 1 year

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Unveiled Affections

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer decides to speak up about your unhappy relationship

Warnings: none

CW: 1.230

Taglist: @envraijesaispas @rosecentury @taygrls @thisismeraki @thenerdthatwrites @bigbunnygucci @jordie-gvf

The dimly lit bar was alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses as the BAU team unwound after a particularly grueling case.

You, Spencer Reid's best friend and confidante, were nestled among your colleagues, enjoying a rare moment of respite. However, hidden behind your smiles and laughter was a secret longing that tugged at your heart.

Spencer had always been there for you, a steadfast presence in your life. From late-night conversations to shared movie marathons, you had grown inseparable over the years. It wasn't long before the team, with their keen observational skills, noticed the way Spencer's eyes lingered on you, filled with a tenderness that went beyond friendship.

Little did they know that you reciprocated those unspoken feelings. But the fear of losing such a profound friendship held you back from confessing your true desires. To safeguard the bond you cherished, you found solace in a relationship outside the BAU. It was a half-hearted attempt to find happiness while suppressing the love that blossomed within your heart for Spencer.

That evening, as the music wafted through the air, you clinked glasses with JJ, Emily, and Penelope, reveling in their camaraderie.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer sat at the bar, casting furtive glances in your direction. By your side, your boyfriend engaged in a conversation, his attention seemingly captivated by Spencer's words.

With a heavy sigh, Spencer turned to face your partner, a mixture of concern and anguish etched upon his face. He knew the depths of your unhappiness, your yearning for something more. It had become increasingly difficult for him to witness you with someone who failed to see your true worth.

"I've known Y/N for a long time, and I've watched as you two became a couple," Spencer began, his words chosen carefully.

"But have you ever truly seen her?"

Confusion flickered across your boyfriend's face. "What do you mean?"

"Listen," Spencer began, his voice soft but filled with conviction, "You've seen her naked, but do you know her coffee order? You've seen her curves, but have you taken the time to appreciate just how beautiful she truly is?"

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Spencer continued, his voice steady but laced with subtle desperation. "You've slept with her, but have you noticed the nights when she cries herself to sleep? Love and sex may be intertwined for you, but have you considered the pain you're causing her?"

Your boyfriend's expression turned defensive. "It's not that simple. Relationships have their ups and downs."

Spencer's voice remained gentle, yet firm. "But at what cost? She deserves to be with someone who truly cherishes her, who sees her for everything she is. Can you honestly say you're that person?"

Your boyfriend shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a realization dawning on him. "I... I didn't realize... I mean, I care about her, but maybe I haven't been paying enough attention. I didn't want to see her hurt."

Spencer's voice softened, laced with a tinge of sadness. "Care is not enough, not when she deserves so much more. Love should be about compassion, understanding, and supporting each other through thick and thin."

As your boyfriend absorbed Spencer's words, a mix of realization and guilt settled upon his features. The weight of his actions became apparent, and he glanced over at you, a pang of regret coursing through his heart. The love he thought he had for you paled in comparison to the affection that radiated between you and Spencer.

Meanwhile, you were oblivious to the conversation unfolding nearby, lost in the joyous banter and laughter of your friends.

Your heart fluttered as you glanced over at Spencer, catching a glimpse of his troubled expression. It tugged at something deep within you, an indescribable connection that defied words.

When the night drew to a close and the team dispersed, you and your boyfriend found yourselves alone. He stared at you intently, his voice filled with remorse. "I've been blind to what we truly have, haven't I?"

You looked at him, your gaze tinged with sorrow. "Yes, you have. But it's not entirely your fault. I've hidden a part of myself, trying to force a happiness that was never meant to be."

He reached out, he tried to find the right words to express his regret. "I see now how unhappy you've been, and it breaks my heart. I never wanted to be the cause of your tears or the source of your pain. I thought I could make you happy, but I was wrong."

Tears welled up in your eyes, emotions cascading over the dam you had carefully constructed. "I wanted to believe that too, that we could find happiness together. But deep down, I've always known that my heart belonged elsewhere."

His grip on your hand tightened, a mixture of understanding and acceptance dawning in his eyes. "I can't promise that I won't be hurt, but if being with Spencer is what truly makes you happy, then I won't stand in your way. You deserve someone who sees you for the incredible person you are."

The weight lifted off your shoulders as the truth hung between you, unspoken yet understood. You both knew that the journey ahead would be challenging, but the prospect of embracing true love outweighed the pain of letting go.

Meanwhile, as the two of you navigated the complexities of your conversation, Spencer stood outside the bar, gazing up at the night sky. The words he had spoken to your partner weighed heavily on his conscience, unsure of the consequences they would bring. He had taken a risk, one driven by a love he couldn't contain any longer.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to find you standing before him, tears shimmering in your eyes. "Spencer, I... I ended things with him. I couldn't continue living a lie, not when my heart belongs to you."

Time seemed to stand still as his eyes met yours, and the unspoken words passed between you like a secret dance. In that moment, the truth was unveiled, and the connection that had been silently nurtured blossomed into something beautiful and undeniable.

Without a word, Spencer stepped forward, cupping your face with his gentle hands. His touch was both tender and fervent, a reflection of the depth of his emotions. "I've loved you for so long, and I never thought I'd have the chance to say it. But now that I do, I want to cherish every moment with you."

A smile bloomed across your face, tears of joy mixing with tears of relief. Finally, the love that had simmered beneath the surface had been freed, and you embraced Spencer, allowing your hearts to intertwine.

From that day forward, you and Spencer embarked on a new chapter, one filled with love, understanding, and a profound friendship that had evolved into something extraordinary.

The BAU team watched as your relationship flourished, having known all along the connection that existed between you.

And as you leaned into Spencer's embrace, surrounded by the love and support of your colleagues, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the winding path that had led you here. In the end, it was the strength of your bond and the courage to follow your hearts that had brought you to a place where love could thrive, unencumbered by doubt or fear.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

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