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angelfic · 10 months

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— IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU BABY

pairing: mattheo riddle x nott!reader

summary: you weren't quite used to the attention of other boys, and it seems your brother's best friend isn't too fond of it either

warnings: brother's best friend trope!! swearing, kissing, not much else, very much unedited

author’s note: i don't tend to stray outside of the marauders era characters buuuut i've been a bit obsessed with mattheo and theo recently so this was for my own selfish needs lol as always let me know what you think!!

He had barely looked away from you all evening.

You knew the only reason Mattheo’s eyes had been fixed on you for the entirety of dinner was because of a certain type of attention you had unconsciously garnered on your first day back at school. Particularly male attention. It wasn’t any less disconcerting, however, knowing that your brother’s best friend was prepared to fist fight any potential romantic advances towards you because he was just as protective as your actual older sibling.

Your brother Theodore is no better, a displeased frown appearing every five minutes when he looks over to where you sit at the Gryffindor table.

“Merlin, boys are pathetic,” Ginny mutters, spearing a potato with her fork. “You go away for one summer and come back slightly prettier and they flock to you like bees to honey!” You’re about to weakly protest that she’s exaggerating, but at that exact moment you’re interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

You slowly turn on the bench, reluctantly lowering your goblet of pumpkin juice to face Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw boy who you’d only ever spoken to when he was going out with Ginny.

“Hi, Michael,” you sigh, offering him a bland smile.

“Hello, Nott,” Michael replies, with what he probably thinks is a winning smile. “Had a good summer? I was just going to ask if you wanted to go on the first Hogsmeade visit of the term with me.”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Er- well, as… nice as that sounds,” you say slowly, not meaning a word. You glance at Ginny as pointedly as you can manage and raise an eyebrow. “I don’t quite relish the idea of going out with my best friend’s ex.”

“Oh! I, erm, I didn’t actually see you there, Ginny,” he stammers, laughing sheepishly. “My mistake.”

“Quite,” Ginny says drily, turning back to her plate of food.

“Well, er, see you later then,” Michael mumbles, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes back to the Ravenclaw table.

You bite your lip to stifle your giggles but it’s not long before you catch Ginny’s eye and the both of you erupt into fits of laughter.

“I can’t believe I ever went out with him,” Ginny groans, wiping her eyes.

“Was he always such a tosser or is that new?” you ask, snorting at the way Ginny scrunches up her face in embarrassment.

You’re still laughing when your eyes happen to pass over the Slytherin table just to focus on Mattheo.

You notice with a jolt that he’s looking at you again. This time, his eyes flick over to the Ravenclaw table for a second where Michael has settled back onto, then back to you and he quirks a brow quizzically.

Frowning, you mouth at him to stop in hopes that he ceases his scrutiny, just for him to roll his eyes and return to whatever one-sided conversation Blaise Zabini was attempting to engage him in. You hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel after realising Mattheo has just witnessed such an embarrassing encounter, but you’ve found over the years that you’re not the best at hiding the effects he has on you. Theo has never mentioned it in front of Mattheo as far as you’re aware, but he definitely hasn’t shied away from teasing you about the childhood crush you have on your brother’s closest friend. Not that you’ve ever admitted it to him anyway, and you’ve gotten a lot better at hiding it since nothing could ever come of it.

“Your brother and Riddle have been looking like they’re ready to halve the male population of Hogwarts since we got on the bloody train,” Ginny says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Tell me about it,” you sigh, cutting into your carrot a little more viciously than needed. “They keep looking over at our table. I feel like I’m on one of those Muggle reality television programmes Hermione was telling your dad about the other week.”

Arthur Weasley was absolutely transfixed when he was learning about reality television from Hermione during breakfast the week you both stayed at The Burrow, and although you zoned out after his sixteenth question about a singular programme, you feel as though you caught the gist of it.

“Hm,” Ginny agrees, grimacing at the memory. She had nodded off at the table during that conversation and fallen asleep on her slice of toast. “In fairness, that’s not really a new thing.”

“What, being watched by my two guard dogs?” you ask in a mock-serious voice.

“Yeah, but…” Ginny chews thoughtfully for a second before answering. “I’m not just talking about today, or even recently. Your brother mostly minds his own business. I’m talking about Riddle. He’s always looking at you, I noticed it last year. Wherever we are, kind of like he’s checking up on you,” she says like it’s common knowledge, shrugging. “It’s sweet, I guess.”

You blink at her, a little speechless.

“What?” Ginny frowns after a few seconds of your silence. You look at her with raised eyebrows, not really taking her seriously. In your first few years at Hogwarts, you had confided in Ginny regarding your silly, little girl feelings for Mattheo and she would read into every action he took towards you in an attempt to prove he liked you too. Obviously, he saw you as nothing but a younger sister figure and once you grew up a bit, Ginny had let it go too.

Ginny reads your dubious expression now and sets down her knife and fork to cross her arms. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m serious! I’m not just saying it because you were helplessly in love with him until you were, like, fourteen.”

“Shush!” you hiss, thwacking her arm. “Why don’t you just get up on stage with Dumbledore and ask him to include that titbit of information for the entire school to hear in his speech!”

“Good idea,” she says, nodding seriously and starting to get up. You know she’s just teasing, but you start spluttering and frantically grab at her sleeve to sit her back down, causing her to topple onto you slightly. This sets you both off laughing again and you find it hard to stop for the rest of dinner and desert, thankfully staying far away from the topic of Mattheo. You also pointedly avoid looking at him again.

Once dinner is over, you head to the Gryffindor common room with the rest of your house and catch up with everyone for a while. After a couple hours of socialising and fifteen minutes of helping Neville Longbottom search for his pet toad, you head up to your dorm with Ginny and Lena, one of your other dormmates, to unpack.

As soon as you open your luggage, you search for your pyjamas and immediately change out of your robes and into a t-shirt and baggy shorts for comfort. You’re in the middle of unpacking some textbooks when you hear Lena whistle from behind you.

“I do not remember those pyjamas looking like that,” Lena comments, grinning at you. Rolling your eyes, you comply with her request to do a little spin and you can’t help feeling pleased when Lena and Ginny start whooping and hollering. “You’ve always been gorgeous, but you really grew up this summer, huh? Look at those legs!”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny pipes in, flopping down on her bed and abandoning her unpacked suitcase. “She came to stay for a week and Mum looked like she was going to cry every time she saw us. Something about ‘blossoming into young ladies’ or whatever bollocks.”

“You ‘blossomed’ last year,” you point out, and Lena hums in agreement. “I haven’t forgotten how Zacharias Smith fell off his broom trying to wave at you during Quidditch practice.”

Ginny groans and starts ranting about teenage boys again. Lena joins in and starts teasing her about how Harry Potter is the only boy she hasn’t complained about and you’re about to set down your belongings to help Lena dodge the pillows Ginny is throwing at her when a flash of green and silver in your suitcase catches your eye.

“Shite, I have Theo’s uniform,” you huff, grabbing the clothes out of your suitcase and sliding your slippers on. “That means he has mine and I am not dealing with this at seven in the morning. I’m gonna go drop this off, be back in a minute.”

Ginny says goodbye before resuming her pillow attack on Lena as you make your way out of the room and down into the common room. It’s nearly empty, with most people having gone to their rooms to pack and a quick glance at the clock tells you its past curfew. You decide to take the risk since you have a reasonable excuse, but you hope that if you do get caught, it isn’t by Filch or Snape.

By the time you’ve reached the dungeons, you thank Merlin that Theo had the sense to tell you the password for the Slytherin common room before dinner in case of emergency.

“Pureblood,” you mutter, fighting the urge to scoff when the door swings open. You enter the common room and brighten up when you see that the only students still hanging around are Theo and his friends. Your brother seems to have already started unpacking since he’s standing and holding your uniform, presumably about to come and find you. His friends all mumble polite ‘hello’s and he walks up to you with a smile.

“Oh, hey, I was just-” Theo cuts himself off when he properly looks at you and frowns. “Wha- Why are you wearing pyjamas out and about?”

“You’re wearing pyjamas too!” you exclaim, slightly embarrassed that your brother is doing this in front of your friends. They all turn to look at you again, hearing the indignation in Theo’s voice and you notice Mattheo suddenly sits up straighter. Suddenly aware of your bare legs, you tug down the material of your shorts, despite the fact they aren’t even very short to begin with.

“Oi. Stop looking at my sister!”” Theo snaps, glaring at Blaise, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. You know the only reason they glanced at you in the first place is out of curiosity regarding Theo’s question, but Theo and Mattheo scowl at them all the same and they all start sputtering, Draco in particular when Pansy narrows her eyes at him. Theo sighs at you, quickly exchanging your uniforms. “Just- at least take something to cover up back to your room.”

“I’ll walk her back,” Mattheo says, out of nowhere. He stands up and makes his way over to you, face carefully blank. Theo nods, agreeing quickly before he ruffles your hair goodbye to go and finish packing. You’re too surprised by Mattheo’s offer to protest until you’re already out of the Slytherin common room.

“I don’t need someone to walk me back, you know,” you mumble after a minute of charged silence.

“It was either me or Theo,” he shrugs, completely unapologetic when his mouth quirks up in a smug smile. “And I know you prefer me.”

“You’re both equally annoying,” you say, rolling your eyes, happy that he’s talking to you like normal again. You hated it whenever Mattheo was serious – it was rarely ever towards you and you much preferred when his whole face lit up with a smile. He begins to tease you about your bunny rabbit slippers and you’re in the middle of pretending to be irked when you both run into Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff prefect doing patrol duties.

“Hey,” Ernie offers you a friendly smile and gives Mattheo a brief, slightly nervous glance. While you prefer not to get into trouble for breaking curfew, Mattheo clearly couldn’t care less and his relaxed, yet intimidating stance must be off-putting to Ernie. Thankfully, you’re on friendly terms with the Hufflepuff and you give him an even brighter smile to make up for it, to which he beams at. “How was your summer?”

“Good, yeah! Erm, listen Ernie. We didn’t mean to be out at this time, it’s just that I accidentally had my brother’s uniform and needed to-”

“Oh, forget it. Don’t worry, I won’t dock you any points,” Ernie reassures you, waving off your excuses and you instantly relax. Ernie gives Mattheo another unsure glance before leaning in the tiniest bit closer to you. You try not to pay attention to how Ernie has been glancing at your legs and how Mattheo tenses up when Ernie starts speaking again. “I was actually wondering if you were available next weekend…?”

Ernie trails off when you don’t show any indication of replying straight away and you snap out of your surprise to say something, but Mattheo beats you to it.

“She’s busy then,” he says coldly, working his jaw. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late. Kindly get lost.”

“Wha- Matt!” you hiss, smacking his chest to which he barely flinches, nor does he look at all apologetic. “Ernie, I-”

“Never mind,” he says quickly, seemingly eager to just leave. “I’ll, er, see you later.”

You stand frozen in shock while Ernie rushes down the corridor and turns the corner, leaving you and Mattheo alone. Turning slowly, you look at him with barely contained anger.

“Why the hell did you do that?” you demand, voice sharp as nails. If it weren’t past curfew and you weren’t in the middle of a school corridor, you would most definitely be yelling. Mattheo stands with his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw and his silence makes you even angrier. You accepted long ago that you’d never have a chance with him, but now he was getting in the way of you having a chance with anyone. It was completely unfair. “What if I actually wanted to go out with him?!”

Mattheo scowls at this, but his impossibly dark brown eyes flash with a hint of uncertainty. “Did you?”

“What?” you ask, impatient.

“Did you want to go out with him?” he says, voice low and dangerous. He walks forward, towering over you and you refuse to be intimidated so you start walking backward until your back is against the wall. Despite having cornered you, he maintains a fair amount of distance between you, leaving plenty of space if you want to move away. You don’t.

“That’s none of your business,” you say stubbornly, raising your chin and trying your best to keep your voice steady. Mattheo narrows his eyes and reduces the distance between you ever so slightly with another small step. You nervously keep talking. “I can go out with whoever I want.” Another step. “And you can’t just-” One more step. “Matt.” His shoes are flush with your slippers.

“What?” he whispers, tilting his head and looking at you calmly, while you feeling anything but calm. “I can’t just… what?”

The previously respectable distance has gone out the window and instead you barely have space to breathe with the way Mattheo is leaning in, head dipped toward you but never touching, hands resting on the wall either side of you. He leans in, eyes dropping to your lips and your heart leaps in your chest with anticipation, but he ghosts his lips over your jaw instead and the barely-there contact has you breathing unevenly.

“You can’t…” you exhale, trying to finish your sentence with some dignity and failing miserably. “You can’t just scare people off like an overprotective older brother.”

Mattheo stills, lifting his head enough to meet your eyes, but making no move to distance himself any further. He scoffs quietly. “Brother,” he says the word with a mildly disgusted scowl. “Is that what you think I want to be?”

“I- I don’t…”

“You don’t know,” Mattheo finishes for you, the corners of his mouth turning up, yet his expression is devoid of humour. “No, you don’t know how badly I wanted to hex Macmillan just now. How badly I wanted to try out some new, experimental spells on that fucking Ravenclaw earlier. But none of that had anything to do with brotherly feelings.”

“They were just being nice,” you say stupidly, with not a clue in the world as to why you’re defending them right now. If anything, you’re just confused.

Mattheo quirks a brow, tongue pressing against his cheek as he considers your words. “That Ravenclaw from earlier was talking about you on the train. He said he was going to ask you out at dinner because you’d ‘gotten hot’ over summer,” Mattheo sneers, like he’s suddenly regretting not hexing Michael Corner in the Great Hall. “They weren’t being nice.”

All of a sudden, you feel irritated because you have no idea why Mattheo is telling you any of this. “What’s wrong with a boy finding me attractive? Is that such a crazy idea?” you demand, part of you not wanting him to answer.

“Merlin, do I seriously have to say it?” he groans, sighing when you glare at him. Mattheo takes a breath, meeting your eyes and you marvel at the sincerity you see when he speaks. “You didn’t ‘get hot’ over the summer. You’ve always been beautiful and they’re idiots for not paying attention then.”

Your breath catches in your throat, whether it’s from emotion or from the close proximity with Mattheo, you aren’t sure. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Mattheo nods, leaning back in to brush his nose against your own, his breath mingling with yours. “Always have.”

You take this as a cue to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him in and the next thing you know, his mouth is firm against yours, and his hands are finally touching you, grabbing you by the waist and sliding up your back to hold you closer. You’ve thought about kissing Mattheo before, but the thoughts feel utterly stupid compared to the real thing. Mattheo kisses you fiercely, mouth sliding hot and wet against your own making you come alive and weakening you at the same time. He nips at your bottom lip and you gasp, causing him to smile into the kiss. Your hands are sliding up his chest to snake around his neck when a thought suddenly occurs to you and you pull away abruptly.

“Oh my God, Theodore,” you hiss, covering your mouth with your hand. Mattheo furrows his brows, looking a little dazed and confused. “What are we going to tell him?”

“He knows I’ve loved you since we were kids,” Mattheo says flippantly, waving you off and impatiently starting to lean in again, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “What?”

“You’ve loved me since we were kids?” The words hardly register, but before you can feel any sort of elation, you mostly feel pissed off that your brother has clearly had his fun with the situation for years. “And Theo knows?”

“Yes,” Mattheo says slowly, as if he were talking to a child. He brushes the hair out of your face and his gaze turns a little uncertain when he speaks. “Er, this is hopefully the part where you say you feel the same way.”

“Well, of course I feel the same way,” you huff, still thoroughly annoyed at Theo. “He knew I was crazily in love with you too and the bastard was so irritating about it!”

You’re about three quarters of the way down a list of ways you want to get back at your brother when Mattheo gently turns your face by the chin to look at him. “As much as I’d love for you to plot against your brother right now, it’s kind of a mood killer thinking about him when I’m kissing you.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue with the kissing.”

“How romantic,” he says drily. His smirk turns smug, however, when he processes your previous statement. “So… you were in love with me too. What was the word you used, again? Crazily? Crazily in love…”

“Don’t make me take it back, ‘cause I swear I will.”

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x fem reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle ff #mattheo x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n

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loveforquanrui · 4 months

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the love I hold for you

제로베이스원 - jebewon as things they would definitely do as boyfriends!, gn reader. i dont think there is any disclaimers but let me know if i missed any!

-jiwoong-

showing a different side of himself

would show his true authentic self with you <3

would be really protective of you

since he wants to show he cares without being too "obvious" he would also over offer his help

but its so cute so it cancels out!

would care and love you so much

-hao-

introverted but clingly with you

hao is an introvert as we can all tell, and may need space but never from you

when he's tired, he would find so much comfort in your presence

constantly wants to be around you even if you guys aren't talking he just loves knowing you are there

you are his favorite

he chooses you over anyone else

-hanbin-

planning dates in advanced every week

hear me out in this, hanbin is an observer

he would allow you to plan the first few dates, and in those dates he is taking mental notes of your likes and dislikes

now he will tell you, he wants to plan the following dates

and from then on its funnn

he would take you to many new places like a art gallery or even invite you to his dance studio as a fun date

somehow hanbin will always think of something different for a date idea

-matthew-

teach you how to play video games

i know we all saw this man play league of legends now-

i have a feeling he would try to get his s/o into gaming

he would try to teach you how to play, and he is very patient

since he wants you to play with him, he is willing to spend some time teaching and training you to play these games

he takes it very seriously too

if you ended up not liking the game he would try to find another game that you'd like

regardless if he's not into that game, he would learn how to play it just for you <3

-taerae-

perform for you

strong believer in simp taerae

he would be so deeply in love with his s/o that sometimes they are above himself

if you are anxious, he would sing your favorite song to calm you down

if you are trying to fall asleep, he would play a calming tune in his guitar until you are fast asleep

feeling bummed out, no worries, taerae is dancing the newest tiktok trend for you!

this man will perform for you anytimes if it will make you smile

if you wanted to film a little dance video he would do it proudly

ahh taerae is such a cutie :'(

-ricky-

attention seeking and physical touch

hear me out ricky can sometimes be dismissive

although he clearly cares about other i think the baby cat has some trouble expressing it sometimes

since ricky would struggle to tell you he loves you sometimes he would be surprisingly very cuddly?

he would want to constantly have his arms around you even if he wasn't speaking to you

small gestures like cuddling or holding your hand are a big deal to him

its his way of showing his love

he would also seek your attention in the same way

he has very grabby hands constantly wanting your attention without actually saying it

-gyuvin-

carrying extra items for you

gyuvin is a goofy guy but he is also always taking mental notes of you

he would notice your favorite snacks and items you constantly use

he secretly carries your favorite snacks in his backpack

in his backpack there is chapstick, germx, and much more items you use on the daily

you would say "i'm really craving __" and all of a sudden he pulls out the snack from his backpack

needless to say gyuvin is prepared for anything you might need

-gunwook-

have a photo album dedicated of pictures of you

gunwook adores you

sometimes you catch him just starring at you deeply with a smile plastered on his space

he just loves looking at your face, as its a boost of serotonin for him

since he realized how happy it makes him, he takes about 3 pictures of you

sometimes you don't even know he is taking pictures, yet you still come out looking so good

and when he is in a bad mood or simply misses you he would go to his album titles Y/N and just look over all the pictures

he would be so smiley and thankful to have such a partner in his life

-yujin-

get you flowers at the right times

yujin would love getting you flowers

he knows how happy it can make you so he always gets you flowers

yet unbeknown to you he actually always steals one flower from the bouquet he buys

why?

because that way he knows when he needs to get you more flowers

of course he doesn't tell you this, since he wants to be seen as cool

but it's a sweet gesture that he loves doing <3

ahhh guys I did not post as much as I wanted to for a bit. Buttt i hope you enjoyed this. Let me know if you would like a part two or even a fic. Don't forget my asks are always open not just for request but also for any questions or just talks you want to have <3

#zb1 #zb1 imagines #zb1 reactions #zb1 scenarios #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone #zerobaseone reactions #park gunwook #sung hanbin #zhang hao #kim jiwoong #kim gyuvin #han yujin #shen ricky #kim taerae #seok matthew

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 12 days

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Friends...for now

Summary: Unable to sleep, you slip out of camp for a breath of fresh air and find Astarion struggling to tend to his wounds.

No matter how many times you toss and turn, sleep continues to elude you. Staring up at the ceiling of your tent, you groan in annoyance at the throbbing sting of the wound in your arm and sit up, checking the bandages. The blood hasn’t soaked through the cloth, so the sting is probably from the medicine Halsin applied earlier to accelerate the healing but it doesn’t make the feeling less annoying. It does make you less worried about your wound, however, so you decide to take the chance and slip out of camp into the quiet still night, breathing in the fresh air.

You relish in the peace and quiet, something that had been hard to come by as of late with how rowdy your companions could be but you would never trade them for the world, you enjoyed their company far too much. Among them all, Astarion in particular had caught your eye, his facade of confidence and sensuality a far too familiar mask, hiding the quiet strength that you respected greatly. The vampire spawn was an enigma, ruby red eyes letting on far more than the honeyed words that dripped from his lips. The way his words always managed to make your heart flutter, the silent gestures of gratitude whenever you helped him that made you giddy, it made you feel like a teenager hopelessly in love.

Maybe you were in love with him.

You shake your head, dismissing the thought. What Astarion needed right now was a friend, not a lover. He needed to know that people could care without wanting anything in return, that there could be intimacy in non-sexual acts, and that he could be his own person.

Once your hear is cleared, you head to your favourite spot to get away from the hustle and bustle of the camp, only to find a certain someone already sitting there.

“Oh, hello there darling. Come to see me? I’m touched, really.”

“You’re in my spot,” you snort, making your way over. “How’s your back wound?”

“What back wound?” He smiles.

“The one that’s dripping blood all over my favourite spot?”

“Ah, that one. You have to be more specific next time dear. It’ll heal in time, don’t you worry your sweet self.”

“Let me help you with it.” You take the medical supplies hiding behind the rock the both of you are leaning on and start preparing the materials you need. Astarion stares, first at the medical supplies then up at you when he realises its the exact same supplies he haphazardly stashed away upon hearing your approach.

“I don’t need your help,” he hisses. “I can take care of myself.”

“It’s poisoned, you’ll need more than this to get rid of the poison.” You take a couple of herbs out. “Halsin said to ground these into a paste and then apply the paste to the wound before bandaging it.”

Astarion scowls, glaring at the leaves sitting in your open palm. Of course the druid would go around poking his nose into other’s businesses. He tentatively reaches for the leaves, then pulls back when he realises he has no idea how to ground them into paste. You then pull out a mortar and pestel and start grinding the herbs while he watches quietly, observing your every move. Once the herbs have been sufficiently ground, you slide the mortar over to him.

“There, all done. Next time you want to use this spot, just let me know in advance alright? Then I’ll know not to disturb you.” You grin, pushing yourself to your feet. “See you back in camp.”

With that you turn to leave, but his next words stop you in your tracks.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You turn around.

“Could…could you help me treat the wound. I can’t exactly see where it is,” he admits nervously. He’s still uncertain about letting you touch his back like that, but you’ve never meant him any harm, he could let you see him all exposed, right?

“Sure.” You seat yourself next to him and he turns around, the moonlight casting a glow on his scars. This is the first time you’ve been able to properly see them, the markings permanently etched into his pale skin and your own back throbs at the thought of the pain he must have gone through.

“I’m going to wash the wound first then apply the paste, alright?”

He nods wordlessly, biting down on his lip when the pain flares up once more the moment water contacts the wound. You murmur an apology before gently applying the paste on the wound that is quickly turning an ugly green. You feel him flinch as your finger makes contact with his back, a small trembling in his shoulders and pause, unsure if you should continue. You could just leave the wound like this, the paste would work its magic, removing the poison while his vampiric healing took care of what remained. A bandage was more a precaution to ensure the wound didn’t get infected, but if he was going to remain here for the rest of the night he wouldn’t risk an infection.

“Do you want me to continue? I could just leave the wound as it is right now and it’ll heal.” You voice is gentle, soft, not like the rough and grating tone Cazador speaks in.

“Continue. Please.” He whispers the last part but you hear him all the same. A small smile flicks across your face at the trust he’s putting in you and you continue, bandaging the wound neatly. He remains as still as possible while you work, with the occasional flinch when you accidentally pull the cloth a little too tightly but a quick apology soothes everything over and soon you’re done.

“There. All done.” You pack the remaining supplies as he pulls his shirt back on, turning around to face you.

“Thank you.” He inclines his head. You smile in response, “welcome!”

He sits there in silence for a while, unsure of what else to say. He wants to express more than gratitude, to tell you that you’re the first person he’s ever let touch his back, his scars, that he’s been afraid of letting anyone near him, fearing that they will hurt him, that you’re so many of his firsts, and yet words elude him, lost to the night’s breeze.

It’s only when you check on your own wound that he finds something to say.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?”

You laugh, the melody carrying through the crisp night air. “Why thank you for the offer, Astarion, I am rather tempted to accept it but alas, the doubt that kissing it wouldn’t help in the slightest has overtaken the temptation.”

“You wouldn’t know unless you tried, love. What is there to lose?” he smirks, back in familiar territory.

“My dignity perhaps?” You chuckle.

“There’s no one else around, only you and me. No one will know but us, it’ll be our little secret.” He leans in closer and winces at the twinge of pain from his back.

“Don’t strain it,” you frown, concerned. It’s when you look at him with that look in his eyes that his undead heart skips a beat and all he can think about is how much you care for him without wanting anything in return. You lavish both time and energy onto him, far more than the others and yet you’ve never asked a favour of him. He keeps trying to pry your ulterior motive from you but nothing ever gets revealed, meaning you have none, which only makes him even more confused.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Why do you concern yourself with me so much? What is it you want from me?”

“Hm? What I want from you? Nothing, honest! You’re my friend, it’s only natural I should care for your wellbeing.” Friend, nothing more.

Friend, a foreign word to him. He’s never considered anyone anything more than a tool, a way to protect himself and everyone has done the same to him, using him for their own gains, their own purposes. Yet here you are, shattering everything he’s been used to and showing him something he never once considered. Maybe having a friend wasn’t so bad, it meant he could do things he never could’ve done alone, it meant feeling a little less alone in the whisper of the night. Most of all, it meant he could spend more time with you, listen to your voice, have you all to himself.

“Hmph,” is all he says out loud and the two of you continue to sit in silence, watching as the moon bathes your surroundings in its silvery light.

Friends for now, perhaps something more in the future.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion

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xzaddyzanakinx · 2 months

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @mawhOre @lonaah @t8Izw @guiltycherries

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

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sarynnah · 8 months

Text

Che’nya Headcanons

When in heat:

- When in heat, Che’nya (like other male cats) will bite down on your neck to keep you steady as he pounds into you. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help but to make sure you stay still while he fucks you.

- His only goal during heat is to mate; so he has a hard time focusing on anything else (like classes and hobbies) because he will be so consumed in the idea of breeding you.

- Due to him not being able to focus on anything else other than you during this time, he will probably stalk you (invisible of course) until you are in a secluded area; and then push you up against the nearest surface and take you right then and there.

- When he’s really getting into it, he’ll put you in a mating press while biting your neck, and drill into you relentlessly- in a trance from how badly his desire to breed you is.

- Unfortunately, during his heat there will be little to no prep before penetration because he has almost no self-control when it comes to his own pleasure and release; but after his heat, he will be very caring and will make sure you’re well taken care of and satisfied to make up for it.

- When he is ready to release, his member will swell up and form a knot- keeping you connected to him until his seed is settled in you. He loves snuggling into the nape of your neck when this happens, enjoying the warmth you give off.

His Body:

- Che’nya for sure has a sleeper build - so his outer appearance won’t look like there’s much muscle mass, but when his clothes are off you can definitely tell that he’s toned.

- His tongue (like other felines) has a sand-paper like texture to it, but it is only slight. Due to this, the sensation of him licking your nipples and sex is amplified - and leaves your skin with a red hue after. He loves to savor your taste, so you’d better be prepared to put up with the sensitivity his tongue is sure to inflict upon you.

- Like most cats, the area around his tail will be sensitive to touch; and he is very conscious of this. When you accidentally graze him there he would blush up and his hair would spike as an involuntary reaction; and he would try to brush it off as if nothing happened. However, if you touched him there on purpose he wouldn’t let you get away with it; pinning you down and showing you what it feels like to be teased like that. It isn’t fair is it?

- Due to his feline features, Che’nya naturally has heightened hearing; meaning he can catch even the smallest noises you make… and he loves it. He likes to hear your little squeaks when he teases you, and especially loves the lewd noises you let out while he’s touches and fucks you.

Extras:

- When Che’nya feels relaxed with you (and in general) he may purr to express his comfort. Whether it’s when you guys are winding down and tired after sex, or just when cuddling, he will start purring. He knows you love it; and it warms his heart when he notices you falling asleep to the feeling of the vibration on your skin.

- He likes everyone knowing that you are his, so to ward off the other beastmen from making advances towards you, he scent marks you. He does this by nuzzling up to you and rubbing his scent glands (behind his ears, his eyebrows, neck, etc.) on your skin - subtly marking you in the process. You think it’s just him being cute and playful; but in reality it’s him telling other beastmen to fuck off.

This is my first headcanon post so I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think, or if you have any requests for a character or scenario you want to see next!

#che’nya #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst #twst yuu #twst oc #headcanon #smut #twst smut #twst chenya #lemon #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #gn reader #brainrot

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dduane · 1 year

Text

An anonymized non-anon query

(A note: my ask box isn’t open to anons at the moment, because I started getting inappropriate messages that I didn’t care to see. Maybe I'll eventually go anon-open again. But the present situation isn’t going to stop me from answering asks where the person’s uneasy about having their username revealed. Like this one:)

[text:

Can't go on anon so this is a little mortifying to be Seen™ but;

Do you have any words for fandom girls who are no longer in their 20s and starting to construct people in their heads who shame them for "still being into this stuff"?]

First thing; funny how it's always fandom girls who come up against this, isn't it? If it was some 90-year-old fandom boy in question who'd been painting his face red and white and following Manchester United since he was nine, no one would turn a hair. In fact, everybody in that cohort of interest would be praising him for his commitment and loyalty. It's almost as if some people have bought into the idea that the rules are different for girls somehow! Something to do with the idea that where girls belong is home making everybody a sandwich. I wonder where that might have come from...

Anyway. What you're describing here is something a lot of us have run into: the pressure to (allow me briefly to stand the well-known trope on its head) Be Like All The Other Girls... and to be prepared (and indeed resigned) for that inevitably to happen IRL. This stuff starts sneaking into your head in a very innocuous way: by disguising itself as "being prepared" for what you're afraid might happen. And it's very hard to avoid having that concern slowly but surely turn into a dread of what's going to happen. (For there's a horrible seductiveness about self-fullfilling prophecy... even if you know you've built it yourself. Part of your mind, that frightened advanced-fight-or-flight part that's always trying to keep you safe by predicting all the possible futures, starts feeling satisfied with itself when it finally has the evidence to say, "Well, at least we were prepared for that!")

So it's best to be proactive about managing this, I think, before things start to get bothersome. Develop a quick switchblade-style defense that you can pull out of your brain's back pocket at short notice. And then, when you're used to using it on those rogue ideations, disarm the sneaky "attacker" more thoroughly by taking it apart, gradually, at the more straightforwardly analytical end.

Let's start with the switchblade: a good-old fashioned mantra. How about this:

"Nobody gets to gatekeep my joy."

This can be used as a silent affirmation any time you feel the need. Any time you start feeling that pressure—that annoying whisper from the conjectural voices in your head that want you to think about how maybe you are too old for this kind of thing—pull out the mantra and shiv them in the gut with it, three times. (Threes are always good for this. Think how many spells have to be done, or names spoken, in threes. The rhythm's an archetype all its own.)

What you'll notice, with repetition of this intervention over time, is that the incidence of this kind of thinking gradually gets rarer and rarer. It might take a while to go away completely... but you'll know what to do if it rears its head again.

But also: this response can when necessary be repeated right out loud in front of whatever sorry piece of breathing meat has the unutterable bald-faced gall to actually try to gatekeep you to your (digital or otherwise) face. Pull it out, set your features in an expression of amused calm (because what you do to your face makes differences in your brain), and hit 'em with it. And if they continue to try to argue the point with you, you get to just keep repeating your base-state mantra until they give up and go away.*

...Now, since good mantras normally run deeper than the mere words, it makes sense to inquire into an underlying issue:

Why do people do this to other people? (And I don't mean this as a rhetorical question with optional eyeroll: I mean it as a possible diagnostic.) There has to be a reason people pull this shit... as mandated by the favorite (different) mantra of psychiatric professionals everywhere: "All behavior is motivated."

One aspect of this to consider: the "you're too old to be into this stuff" response is usually a learned behavior. People for whom the perception of "insufficient" age or maturity is an issue have routinely picked it up from others. There are a number of reasons why they parrot it... the likeliest being that simply want to be seen saying the thing that lots of other people they know also say; so that by so doing, they can be seen as Smart. (This is of course just another a manifestation of our old generally-maladaptive friend, the so-called herd instinct.) And nine-tenths of those other people, I can guarantee you, got it in turn from others still. "They're too old for this" is rarely going to be a spontaneous insight. (Except when used pertinent to certain contact sports, and some types of opera.)

Yet why does the trope perpetuate itself so enthusiastically?

Leaving aside personal living-arrangement issues in individual cases, I think it's because in some people, underneath the expressed trope, there's a genuine fear... an insidious variation of the well-known impostor syndrome. And it's this:

They're afraid that whatever it is they've got at the moment, it's may well be the wrong kind of "this stuff"... not a real joy. (Some people will take this to mean, "The kind of stuff, or joy, other people will approve of." Cf. the "seeming Smart" thing.) And, as they get older, they may be becoming afraid they may never have it.

Now, people naturally try to protect themselves from experiencing their own fears whenever possible. This one's no different. So one way such folks find to distract themselves from the fear of having no joy is to devalue such joy in others. That way, whatever they see themselves as having their noses spitefully "rubbed in" can be perceived as no longer a real threat to them. They can start seeing it as a bad joy, a weak or silly or stupid joy. And (in this case specifically) an immature joy.

(With this in mind, the passage in which C.S. Lewis deals with this toxic fetishization of "maturity" is worth quoting in full, since we so frequently see only the last couple/few lines:)

“Critics who treat 'adult' as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

...And you hear there the voice of a man who'd dealt with a whole lot of critics in his time on this subject—some of them quite famous and elevated types, trying to discredit him for what we'd now think of as "clicks"—and had routinely made them ever so sorry they'd engaged. Also, Lewis was an enthusiastic reader of "the pulps" until his dying day, and you should have seen some of his responses to those who tried to tell him that "at his age, he should be over that science fiction stuff by now." I'd have to go digging for the cites, but... hooboy.

Anyway, and as a closer:

You're not required to—at someone else's mere behest—even think about changing your way of thinking and living in the (probably hopeless) hopes of pleasing or placating other people you've never met. And most specifically:

You are in no wise required by the Universe to curtail your personal experience of joy in order to try to make scared and small-souled people more comfortable.Your soul gets to be its own size, and have its own joy... in its very own shape, volume, and richness.

So if anyone pulls the "You're too old for [x]" crap on you, I encourage you to just let that attitude sail on by you and fuck straight out into the Oort Cloud and beyond. Let passing alien spacecraft on their way in-system gaze at it in wonder and say, "Wow, look at that go! Didn't think they had warp drive here yet."

...Anyway: let me know how you get on.

HTH!

*This is a basic assertiveness-training technique that I feel is much undervalued in daily usage. Every time someone comes up with a new reason you should stop doing what they don't like, and expects you to respond to that... what makes them think you're required to come up with a new and different reason not to? Who made that concept up? And why waste useful originality on someone arguing with you in the kind of bad faith that refuses to accept your answers? Just keep repeating yourself with the main reason until they give up (probably in great exasperation: too bad...) and bugger off elsewhere. :) ...But see the useful 1970s work When I Say No, I Feel Guilty for effective DIY approaches to this problem.

#advice #the retired psych nurse is IN -- 5¢#or indeed #€0.03

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

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Steve Harrington definitely has a daddy AND breeding kink

Man gave himself away when he hopped into that convertible and said fuck you to Toddfather. Wearing those tight little jeans and talking about wanting six babies, like… okay, let’s see your swimmers, bitch 😂

Warnings: Breeding kink, daddy kink, NSFW, smut, and language!

Steve is absolutely a man that is feral when it comes to all things Mother Nature. He’s not bothered by your period, simply remarks he could fix that for nine months if you’d let him, as he’s simultaneously waving your pads or tampons in your face. And during ovulation? He’s often coming up as you take your birth control, hand around the water, his large palm wraps around your own, other hand taking the small pill packet from you. He’s nosing his way into gaping the collar of your shirt, that hot mouth laying kisses across your flesh.

“Maybe don’t worry about it this month?”

“Steve…” you warn, already prepared to thwart those toe curling advances.

Because if there’s one thing Steve Harrington does, it’s completing his purpose with an intense vigor. And that includes sex—namely—your pleasure, your orgasms, and the idea of pumping you so full of his cum that you become pregnant with twins. After all, his mom said once that they might run in the family.

“C’mon, honey. Why not?”

You sign into his wet kisses, body ignited with a pressing electricity. “Because, babies aren’t glamorous, Steve. You like the idea of them, sure, but—“

He frowns, one of which you can feel against your neck. He pulls away with a look of sadness. “You think I don’t know we wouldn’t get any sleep, would probably be covered in baby shit and vomit? We’d argue, we would miss a lot of sex and date nights? That about cover it?” He finishes, taking in your shell-shocked expression.

He’s put a lot of thought into this.

“What’s wrong with cleaning up little baby puke, versus monster guts and blood? I can handle it, I know I can.” He’s firm, a soft strength you rarely hear from him. You’re on the cusp of full blown admiration. Ah, fuck it. You’re already there.

“Steve—“

“I know what I want and I want that with you. Didn’t you tell me that you’re the one who knows where to get a good deal on an RV, huh?”

The conversation of Steve’s six nuggets that he’d dreamt of having with you, life so short and precious after everything you’d all went through. And you’re always positive that your future belongs to Steve Harrington, and that his children are yours—together. The mere idea of creating a whole human being that belongs to you and him? He’s already Cheshire grinning, milky white teeth on display. “Tits full of milk to feed our child. Belly swollen. Fuck, honey. We’re gonna have to get you a real nice nightgown, yeah? Something you can slip off easily when you’re sore.”

Steve loves lingerie on your body? And pregnant, shrouded in various slivers of silk, satin, and lace?

~*~

His daddy kink can go both ways. Pregnant or not. When he’s taking you deeper and deeper, pressing your face into the bed with his large hand, cock catching on your sopping wet walls. Making you beg to take him down and gag.

“Who’s daddy’s good girl?”

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #kink hour #asks #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb #steve harrington blurb

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melancholic-and-delusional · 1 year

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Taking the BSD boys to a cat café pt.2

This can be either platonic or romantic. It's up to you. I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes because English isn't my first language.

Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Feat. Kunikida, Ranpo, Tetchou, Jouno, Sigma, Poe

Kunikida

This wasn't a part of his schedule to begin with. You basically begged him to let you take him on a surprise date, so he didn't know what to expect. When you guys arrived at the little cat café, you had to drag him in because, at first, he refused to enter such a "chaotic" place.

Now you were seated at a cute small table in the corner of the shop. He looked completely unimpressed. Sure, he liked cats, but being surrounded by so many of them while trying to drink his morning coffee wasn't his idea of a nice start of the day.

"We should have gone to a normal café! Now there's so many cat hairs on my pants and I have to go to an important meeting later! You should have listened to me and followed my prepared schedule!" he said in a panicked manner.

"I mean, it isn't as bad as you make it out to be. Come on now. If you actually tried to enjoy it instead of just complaining, perhaps you would actually have a good time. "

"Fine" was all he said before standing up from the comfortable chair and making his way to the closest to him cat. He kneeled down and began petting it. You watched from afar, chuckling to yourself. It was such a poor attempt. Each stroke of his hand seemed so forced, and yet he continued because he didn't wish to make you sad.

"Just relax! You look like a robot. At this point, I'm just waiting for you to run out of battery and collapse to the floor. " You laughed, and he looked towards you with slight irritation.

"I'm trying my best over here!" You stood up and handed him one of the cat toys lying around. You told him to just calm down and do it as he feels is right. Then, he was finally able to fully enjoy the moment. It wasn't so bad after all.

After your little hang-out, he felt happy, but he still had to make a quick stop at home to change into a new pair of pants. Perhaps some other day, when he doesn't have any other important thing to attend to, you can go to the cat café again.

Ranpo

He loves sweets and cats, so going to a cat café seemed like the perfect way to make use of your time that day.

He ordered himself way too many cat-shaped cookies and a cup of hot chocolate. You were both enjoying your snacks when, out of nowhere, a cat climbed up on the table. Curious, it started sniffing the delicious food. Ranpo reached out to grab the cat and pulled it towards him.

"These are mine. Got it?" he laughed and started petting the cat. His gaze, however, never left his desert, and he soon grabbed a cookie and put it into his mouth. That provoked the cat's attention, and the little animal stood up on its back legs and looked towards him, resting its paws upon his chest.

"Quite a curious creature, huh?"

Ranpo ended up feeding the cat some food the café provided him with while also eating his own. It was honestly heartwarming watching him and the cat.

He ended up coming again to the same café to visit his new buddy, but upon finding out the cat got adopted, he became a little sad.

Tetchou

He enjoys visiting different cafés and restaurants, so when you proposed the idea of going to the new cat café that opened last month, he was down for it.

"Do you happen to serve ketchup with your strawberry cupcakes?" You watched the waitress give Tetchou a puzzled look at his extraordinary request. She said that they didn't have ketchup in the first place and left to fetch your orders. After five minutes, she brought them.

"How do you even eat these things?" you asked while glancing at him pour ketchup he got from the fast-food restaurant next door over his cupcake. Tetchou just glanced back at you and asked you what you meant by that. "Never mind."

Half an hour had passed, and you both had already finished your drinks and food. Now, Tetchou was observing the cats. He hadn't touched a single one ever since he got there with you. He just silently watched them lay around and do their thing. You decided to go play with the animals, but he refused to join you. Instead, he continued gazing at you and the cats.

"What a lovely display," he said, and a small grin appeared on his face.

Jouno

Convincing him to join you on your trip to the local cat café was hard, but convincing him to leave was harder.

"I can't believe that a cat can be so desperate for such little amount of food," he mentioned while holding a small star-shaped treat with his thumb and pointer finger. He was holding it above the cat but refused to give it to the poor creature.

"Quit being a jerk!" You yelled over to him, and he finally let go of it. The cat instantly ate it.

"I'm just playing with the cat." he smiled at you cheekily.

"You've been doing that for the past 10 minutes now," you reminded him and lightly smacked his head, making him gasp.

"We should come here again sometimes. It's quite fun to tease animals, " he said and chuckled.

Sigma (slight manga spoilers ahead)

Sigma has been conscious for only 3 years, so he hasn't experienced the joy of visiting a cat café yet. When you asked him to go to one with you, he was happy to accompany you.

"This latte is absolutely delicious," he said as he drank the last sup of it. The next moment, he was on the furry carpet playing with a bunch of cats.

"I didn't expect you'd enjoy this so much."

"I didn't either." He smiled warmly at you as he rubbed the chin of a cute kitty.

Sigma was so accustomed to being used in each relationship he had. Everyone wanted something from him, and after they acquired it, they would abandon him. But not you. You didn't want anything from him. Most importantly, you treated him as a friend. He truly treasured this moment of happiness he felt while he was with you.

After that day, he ended up asking you to go out again to the same cat café with him. This quickly became a frequently visited place by the two of you and a place that he would always remember.

Poe

The idea of spending time around more cats than people seemed appealing to Poe, so he agreed to join you on your trip to the new cat café. Of course, he brought Karl.

You two were enjoying your beverages, and Karl was munching on a cookie when a cat approached your table. Poe reached out to pet it and ended up forgetting about his surroundings for a few seconds. He soon realized that something was missing. Karl!

He turned around to see Karl playing with two cats. It was as if the raccoon was a cat itself.

"Oh Karl!" Poe gasped as he watched the three animals play. It was truly an adorable sight. You chuckled when you realized he was worried for nothing. The two of you continued watching the animals play and drank your coffees.

Thank you so much for reading this. I apologize if any of the characters seemed OOC, and I am always open to constructive criticism. If you want to request something of me to write then you can always do that. My rules are pinned on my profile.

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 1 year

Note

Hei! I'm new here and on this fandom two questions can I ask from the kissing prompt #4 with Idia? And how many characters is the limit for each ask in this case? Thanks in advance ♥️❤️

(For the kiss prompts it’s only one character per ask and one prompt per request!)

Idia Shroud:

4. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

Idia was cornered.

The look on Crewel’s face told him all he needed to know; he would not be exempt from this project, regardless of his avoidance of people. It might be just fine for him to send technology to class instead of himself but this was still something that required two heads, no matter how intelligent Idia insisted he was. He was cut off time and time again with a cruel glare that sealed his fate, a main quest that had first been thought of as a basic side quest.

“We could be partners, if you want. You know me better than most others in the class anyway.” You had offered yourself up so casually, Idia suspected you had no clue that he was on your romance route at the moment; perhaps you were the perfect companion for this quest, just so he could raise his affection with you and unlock more interactions for the future.

This option being presented to him was also assuredly leading him down a certain path, and if he were to deny your kindness… a bad end surely awaited him. He could see the words dripping with blood and ink as your head tilted, awaiting an answer. All he could do was vigorously nod his head yes before disappearing, knowing there was quite a bit of work to do before he could let you step foot in his disaster of a room.

After hours of necessary prep work to not lower your affection you received the all clear from Idia to come over, your notebooks in hand as you prepared to settle down and finish the project in one night. You figured it would make it easiest on Idia but you had failed to notice the difficulty of the prompt Crewel gave, almost as if he purposely made it so Idia would have to have longer human interaction. He’s cursing his teachers name as he researched alongside you, sweating as time marched on.

“Ah, wait!” You pointed at one of his many screens, Idia glancing back to see what had gotten you excited. “I think this is the piece we’re missing! If we add that in, then it’ll all make sense, and we’re done!”

“…! You’re right!” You had found the missing puzzle piece, the final component that would have you both racing to the next cutscene. “There, it’s been added in… We’re done!”

After countless hours of reading over text and desperately problem solving to make the assignment work properly, you’d finally reached the finish line. You’re giddy as you come to sit next to Idia to admire your work, turning to him with a smile so bright it was more blinding than his screens in a dark room.

He must have missed the QTE, hit a wrong button somewhere in his brain, because his body moved before he had any idea what he was doing. In a move that was far bolder than his courage stat could possibly allow he pressed his lips against yours in celebration, the move so quick that you didn’t have much time to react to it. He must not have known the stun effect his lips had but you must have some sort of shield that bounced magic right back at him, as he suddenly became frozen in his spot staring at you.

The excitement that had given a brief boost to powers allowed him to melt the ice that had encased his body, his face and hair becoming a light shade of pink mixed his normal blue. If this were to go poorly he would have lost all your friendship points anyway, so what was one more for the road? He dipped down to steal another kiss, the very last kiss he would ever have in his life, before he pulled away with a concerned look on his face.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone back for round two.

Maybe he should’ve hit the apology button.

Nothing he could do now except wait for your response.

#Idia Shroud #TWST #Twisted Wonderland #TWST Imagines #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Twisted WOnderland Imagines #kiss prompts #scenario #Idia Shroud x Reader

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cenorii · 10 months

Text

Theory about Chris and Wesker (RE9) [UPDATED]

Hey Tumblr, today I brought you two crazy theories. I promise you that my theories will be very interesting and will make you think about something.

Alive Wesker, BOW Chris. Actual until re9 release!

This is an updated theory, I have supplemented and edited it!

I kept them inside my head for a long time, but coming of RE9 pushes me to release these theories outside. I really love Chriskers, so these two theories are directly related to them. This is not AU, but my assumptions about the canon. I would like to warn you that English is not my native language, so there may be errors in the text, excuse me for that.

Theory about Chris

What could be his immediate future?

Below is a concept of this BOW:

We already know that in Shadows of Rose (DLC for RE8) the year is 2037 and at this point Chris is still alive. So it's safe to say that after the events of RE9, which will take place in 2021, he will still be alive. He will not die, contrary to fan theories.

At the very end of RE8, Chris discovers a BSAA soldier who turns out to be a bioweapon (I'll write BOW in the future). Enraged by this brazenness, Chris goes to their headquarters to sort it all out. This will probably be the main idea behind RE9.

I can assume that this is not an single specimen, and that all the other BSAA soldiers involved in the "village operation" look identical. That is, they are clones.

Cloning BOW is a common thing in their world, clones of Sergei Vladimir were used to develop a strain of the T-virus back in 1992, and created even earlier, so it's no surprise that someone in 2021 used the cloning method.

I brought up the topic that these BOW soldiers are clones. But whose? Some person with genes suitable for the virus should be taken as a basis. But who could be the donor in this case and have we had any information about this? I have an answer to that question.

These BOW soldiers have a consciousness and "upbringing" close to human, because they use weapons and transportation. And judging by their calm facial expressions, they don't show aggression. They can act coherently as a team, which suggests that these BOW are not a brainless herd of armed Majini (RE5), or J'avo (RE6). Their brains must be very advanced and almost unaffected by mutations.

But now let's remember that there was already a project that aimed to create the perfect soldier with an evolved brain. That was Project Tyrant.

This is Chris Redfield. At first, the similarities are barely obvious, but take a closer look at the facial features. The shape of the nose, lips, wrinkles around the eyes, a mole under the eye.

And now look at the gait. This pose is identical to the typical walking of any Tyrant.

BSAA, without his knowledge, used his DNA to create these BOW soldiers.

We can say that this BOW weapon is the most advanced version of the Tyrant, because it is indistinguishable from a human, has high intelligence and is well controlled. And it is also easily disposed of, because after the death of BOW, the soldier did not mutate into a Super Tyrant.

It may not be a Tyrant, but some new project. But the data on the Tyrant clearly formed its basis.

There are legitimate questions - why Chris? Who needs it?

Answer to question 1: Chris is a soldier with a lot of experience and the ability to survive in the most dangerous situations. He is psychologically prepared for anything. If by happy coincidence such a person is genetically suited to be the new version of BOW, then this can be exploited, for it saves "real" human lives in military operations. But that doesn't excuse the BSAA, for they took his DNA without authorization.

Answer to question 2: to guess who needs it, you just need to know Chris's environment. For whom is Chris "one of the best men"? For whom is Chris the only equal opponent? Who does Chris mean so much to that this person would want to subdue him?

I think you've already guessed.

Albert Wesker.

But you ask the logical question, "how could Wesker pull this off if he died in 2009?"

The answer is, he didn't. The theory of how he survived will be below, but for now I'll tell you his motives.

After the defeat, which came hard due to his injuries and overdose of the virus, Wesker decided to poison Chris's life. His own life was wiped out in that volcano, the results of all his research and experiments gone to waste. All of Wesker's plans are ruined by this man, as many times before, he is humiliated and revenge boils in him.

Somehow he has infiltrated the heart of BSAA, of those Chris trusted. Into Chris's "home." And he poisoned that home with a biological weapon. There may well have been some other reason for this, perhaps he had a new plan and "poisoning Chris's life" was just a nice addition to that plan, but not the main goal.

But why is Mold "useless" to him, you ask? Weskers in "Project W" were raised according to Spencer's ideals, so in many ways they think like him, because the upbringing was sufficiently obsessive. And here's what Spencer himself thought of Mold:

Here is a variant of the main goal:

New Mold was created by The Connections, an organization that partnered with H.C.F. back in 2000. H.C.F. is a unit that Wesker once led. It's unknown if he was involved in the creation of the Mold, but it's safe to assume he was aware of it. This could be the reason BOW were sent BSAA soldiers into the village in RE8 to destroy everything The Connections had a hand in. Perhaps Wesker just wanted to get rid of anything "useless" that might get in his way in the future. A distant future. Because it's been 12 years since his "death" and he's 61 years old himself.

Mold is useless to Spencer, so is useless to any of the Weskers who share his thinking.

There's no denying the possibility that Wesker may have been thinking about turning Chris into something for a long time, since he was highly successful as a soldier. He likes to "rate" Chris during their encounters. What if he was evaluating Chris to weigh the pros and cons if he suddenly decided to create something based on him? A BOW based on him? It's also possible that Wesker always spared Chris because he thought he would use him in the future. Other reasons are just excuses.

I can only decipher these Wesker facial expressions as "hmm, not bad"

I assume that in RE9 Chris will meet Wesker. But not the way he remembers him.

I forgot to mention that behind the scenes, Wesker was working on experimental weapons. He had studied various tactics to fight against the BOW and felt that weapons of mass destruction were not always effective, so he favored compact pieces that could be used by experienced fighters. It's unclear why Wesker even considered such a thing if he didn't intend to sell these developments. It's also unclear why he was working on it if his ultimate goal was a "perfect world" with no place for guns and wars. Did he come up with it… just because he could? In any case, after his death, these designs were confiscated by the reconstituted Umbrella Co. (Blue Umbrella) and after being reconstituted, distributed these weapons to various places like the BSAA.

Given the Chris cloning moment, doesn't it seem suspicious that the suddenly revived Umbrella is in the process of recreating Wesker's designs? I get that this weapon is very useful, but then why did they name it after Wesker if he's a "disgrace" to society and a criminal? He, in theory, deserves no mention, even on his designs. But someone in management has respect for him, so allowed the name to remain.

It's also odd that BSAA have taken up cloning, it's more likely the new Umbrella is the originator of this idea, or their executive (leader) who respects Wesker and his designs. Perhaps cloning Chris is one of his designs too?

I mean… literally - it's a clone of Chris with a Wesker gun. This is a very strange coincidence.

Theory about Wesker 1. Why isn't he dead?

Let's start simple, RE5 had enough budget to show the ignition effects, we could see them on the enemies set on fire. And RE5 also had enough budget to show colorfully directed cutscenes.

However, with the franchise's most famous character, we saw neither of these at the moment of his death. Wesker was waist-deep in lava, but not burning, and was also defeated without any cutscenes. A strange attitude with such popularity?

Character deaths aren't shown only when they want them back. If a character dies permanently, their death is always detailed and elaborate.

His death was not shown, a basic but not the main fact that makes me sure he survived.

All we can see are the missiles that fly past his head, failing to hit their target, they fall into the lava behind him. If you slow down the video, it's noticeable that for some reason the model of Wesker's head just disappears and the missiles fly right through. This is not done to show that he lost his head, because otherwise the missiles would have exploded in the area around his face. However, the missiles flew behind him. It's a trivial budget saving to not draw the moment of impact. But the question is, why save money in such an important scene for lore?

Capcom could have done this to avoid expending the effort and expense for a colorful scene that ends up being just a trickery for us, so that there would be a realistic opportunity to re-engage Wesker as an main character in the future.

And now pay attention to how Alex Wesker's death was shown:

Her death is final, that's why it's so detailed. Her current consciousness is now in another new body (Natalia), so it's not a pity to get rid of the old one.

Now let's talk about burning. The reason Wesker doesn't have a fire effect in Volcano could mean that his clothes are fireproof. Which, by the way, could be true, because on his concept art it says the material should be able to withstand shrapnel and other little shards. Its appearance and properties are reminiscent of modern carbon fiber, which can withstand about 300-370°C in air, while the temperature of lava in a volcano is from 1000°C to 1200°C. This means that his clothes could not ignite, because carbon fiber only oxidizes from high heat. This material could also be Kevlar, which has a temperature limit of 480°C, at which point it begins to decompose.

However, not only his clothes could have partially saved him from the high temperature, Wesker himself is resistant to it, which cannot be said about the Uroboros, for whom fire is a weak point. Therefore, it is logical to assume that the virus vaporized from his body from the high ambient temperature.

But let's get to the point, the fact that Wesker was flooded with lava after the explosion of missiles does not mean that he died, because it is worth paying attention to the fact that he was already set on fire. It certainly doesn't compare to lava, but it does give us some indication that he has fire resistance.

Judging by this point, Wesker can be set on fire, but those burns don't harm him. He also doesn't care about the fire and explosions around him.

He also just needs to shake the fire off himself, which doesn't do any damage.

There is a hint that he survived. I think few people have heard about Umbrella Corps. This failed shooter, seemingly having nothing important for the Resident Evil universe, gave us quite important information. Now I will tell you about it in detail. But keep in mind that this game is canon. The protagonist here is a certain 3A-7.

The actions of this game take place first in 2012-2013 (single-player mode), and then in 2016 (multiplayer mode). That is, AFTER the events of RE6.

In 2012-2013, according to the plot, information appears about a certain "man from the high ranks in the organization", who arrived to observe the experiment. In the course of the plot, notes about this person are supplemented with information that "this mysterious boss" was present during the events of RE4 and survived them. And as we know, only two men survived RE4 – Leon and Wesker.

After that, one of the acting characters becomes very interested in "this mysterious man", because "this mysterious man" seems trying to make a show of his own strength. This person finds it suspicious and wants to find DNA data about this "mysterious boss". He even wonders, "Who is this guy? Why is everyone afraid of him?".

I think after that it becomes obvious about "what a terrifying and mysterious person" we are talking about. About Wesker.

While playing in multiplayer mode, there is a chance to catch Wesker's phrase at the end of the match. They are different and there are quite a lot of them.

Here is an example: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pe7LEaA7em8

At the end of the game, it says that there are "plans" for the main character of this game. By the way, the main character is voiced by D. C. Douglas, same with Wesker. Wesker watched the experiment on his clone? Sounds interesting, unless, of course, he is a clone himself.

So now it's time for my theories on how Umbrella Corps can be explained:

3A-7 is a clone of Wesker, who trivially doesn't know about it and is an ordinary person with a meager set of memories. But he has retained the skills of the original, making him a high survivor. And the powerful man who kept 3A-7's DNA secret is the original Wesker. He placed his clone in this experiment to quickly test it in real danger, and after success he took it back to realize plans unknown to us. In favor of this theory is the fact that in multiplayer, Douglas' tone is a copy of Wesker's, even though he voiced 3A-7 differently. Capcom wouldn't have hired Douglas to voice two characters at once if their voices weren't potentially important to the lore. The fact that no one recognized Wesker could suggest that his appearance was badly damaged after the volcano, or he changed a lot with the onset of old age, but 3A-7 is probably a copy of his youthful appearance, so he's hiding it.

3A-7 is a clone of Wesker, but after 3A-7 was taken away at the end of his story, he rose through the ranks of the organization and it is his lines that we hear in the multiplayer, because they are said several years after the events of the game. So these are not the phrases of the original Wesker, but of the changed 3A-7 from the future. The original Wesker is presumably dead, but in that case I can't speculate who the influential person who was interested in 3A-7 might be, if not him. Nikolai Zinoviev, who survived RE3? The real Hunk? It could be anyone with cold-blooded cruelty and strange goals. Also, the question remains, who created 3A-7? If it was Wesker himself, he would have used it for his plans long ago, and if it was an abandoned project, it would have been scrapped. It was done by someone outside who needs Wesker's skills badly, just like Chris' skills, which is the reason the RE8 BSAA created a BOW based on him. Ah, I wish someone would get Chris and Wesker clones to work as a team…

So, let's keep going.

One more important thing - if Wesker had died, he would have been seriously mutated. Think of all the characters who have ever had a virus injected into their body. Upon death or when seriously injured, those characters mutated uncontrollably. The same thing happened to Alex Wesker and to Carla Radames. If Wesker died in a volcano, some creature would crawled out of there. Remember when Nemesis was dissolved in acid and then turned into a huge mess. Lava might be as good a vehicle for mutations as acid is for Nemesis. If Wesker didn't mutate, that's another confirmation that he's not dead.

There is a theory that Wesker didn't become a huge monster due to his body adapting to any virus. But I can argue… I believe that after the injection his condition was unstable + a huge amount of Uroboros in his body. All of this should have set the stage for mutation, but the mutation never happened.

Theory about Wesker 2

Now it's time for real madness. In RE5 in vulcano, we killed a Wesker clone. In general, throughout the game in RE5, we fought with his clone. We could meet the real Wesker only in the DLC "Lost in Nightmares". And now I will explain why.

The events of "Lost in Nightmares" take place in 2006, 2 years before the events of RE5. In this DLC, we have the opportunity to fight Wesker, who poses a great threat. One of his blows is able to throw the player into the wall and stun, and he also has several different ways to kill the player. He's constantly trying to kill us. Instead of walking, he moves exclusively with the help of "blink". This is the most ordinary Wesker, as dangerous and unpredictable as ever.

Then we meet Wesker in 2009 during the RE5 events. This famous scene, which gave us the quote "seven minutes", must be the most harmless confrontation with him. A child's fight. Here Wesker, to put it mildly, lost his strength. He prefers to follow us instead of "blink". He trying to "show off" in front of Chris and Sheva. It is very easy to deceive him, and his blows do not cause much damage. Instead of throwing the player into the wall and stunning him, Wesker's blow pushes him away only a few meters. At the same time, here he does not have an attack that can kill the player. Is he playing with us? Alright.

Finally we meet Wesker in our last fight with him (before the volcano). He shouldn't be playing with us here, he's serious. But he's no different from Wesker from the last fight... he just doesn't have any "showing off" animations. But he is still weak and does not carry danger. He had an attack that Wesker had from "Lost in Nightmares", capable of piercing and thereby killing a player with a full health indicator. But otherwise he is not dangerous. I don't feel threatened by this Wesker, even though this is the LAST fight with him! This is his LAST chance to shine in front of Chris! But instead of being as cool as in "Lost in Nightmares", he's just a weak. Walking simulator.

How much Wesker from 2006 differs from himself from 2009 makes you think. Let's think deeper.

When Wesker kills Spencer, he mimics the old man. It may seem that he really wanted to become a God, but if you don't think about RE5, it really can be mistaken for an ordinary mimicry. Wesker wanted to humiliate him at any cost, because the most important and unpleasant secret of his life had just been revealed to him – he was fabricated. This Wesker is real and he falls off a cliff with Jill and saves her.

During the experiments on Jill, he starts working on some related project and realizes that it will take a very long time. Therefore, he creates his own clone (or maybe even several) to replace himself. And he also "hands" his clone a wild Jill with P30 in the blood, after all, the Wesker clone is clearly weaker than the original and he needs "support". Of course, the Wesker clone does not know that he is a clone, and continues to develop the idea of "becoming a God." He's a defective clone, and that's why he's so paranoid about this idea. In the end, this "clone" loses his mind and becomes fixated on the idea of "becoming a God" and everything that he had from the real Wesker in character simply evaporates. He becomes a laughing stock, macaroni monster.

And eventually Chris and Sheva kill him, ridding the world of a useless Wesker clone while the real one is alive and just hiding somewhere.

Think for yourself which theory about Wesker seems more plausible to you, anything can happen in this fandom. I really want to know WHO made BOW Chris and WHY.

Thanks for reading this madness, it will become irrelevant after the release of RE9 and RE5R, but I'm still proud of the information I've gathered. What if some of this guessed the canon? We'll find out in the future.

#resident evil #rebhfun #resident evil fandom #resident evil 9 #chris redfield #albert wesker #Resident Evil Theory #resident evil village #resident evil 5

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z0-ne · 2 months

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Could you write a bold beauty and shy beast idea with broly, please.

YES YES ABSOLUTELY YES! I might've gotten a LITTLE carried away but I still hope you like it! Sorry it's so late!

A Shy Beast? (!Bold! Beauty reader! x !Shy! Beast Broly!)

The only reason you remain in the village is because of your father, but at this rate, he is far too sick to be of any help. You are unwed, and you do what you can to scrape pennies off the ground and feed both you and your father. Although now the man is a mere shell of what he used to be, he fights every single day to ensure you are safe at his side. Even he knows that the only reason you have yet to be forced to the streets is because he still draws breath.

“My darling angel, every breath I take is for you. Please, don’t waste precious moments with me, enjoy your youth, take your time, and find another who will protect you better than I could protect your mother…” Your father says his frail, bony hand cupping your cheek, gently caressing just under your eye. You stare down at him with a sad smile.

His cheeks are sunken, he has bags under his eyes, and you have no idea how he manages to even reach up to caress your cheek right now let alone open his eyes. He loves you, more than anyone ever could just by staying alive for you he proves it every day, the least you could do was return his love by taking care of him.

“Save your energy, please Father. Even now, there is nothing I’d rather do than stay home, and read books at your side.” Leaning into his hand, you find a small amount of warmth, not as much as there was when you were a child. When he would tuck you in after reading you a book, caress your cheek, and kiss your forehead goodnight.

You close your eyes and go back to those moments, it was almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. Once you open them, your father has fallen asleep, something he does frequently now that he has gotten so old. Although you don’t mind, you get up, grab the covers, and lift them to cover his shoulders so he will remain warm. Then you throw on your cloak and grab your change, preparing to leave for more groceries.

This…happened exactly four– no six hours ago, early in the morning when the birds were singing, the sun seemed brighter, and everything had gone…too well.

You were strong-spoken, and far too headstrong for everyone in the village's liking. Despite the disapproval of many in the village, you were also blessed with great beauty and were widely regarded as the fairest in the land. However, this outward charm belied several flaws that the village folk found distasteful. For example, you had an unusual habit of reading, which was not common among others in your village especially the young girls you were determined to share this love of learning with. Those same young girls were often forced to do their family's laundry instead of attending school or playing with their peers.

Your outspoken nature often brought you into conflict with the men of the village, who found it difficult to tolerate a woman who refused to be silent or submissive. On one particular occasion, you had berated and cursed a drunken man for making unwanted advances on a young woman. While the woman was grateful for your intervention, many of the villagers looked at you with hatred and judgment. Despite this, you never found yourself one to shy away from confrontation when presented to you, nor have you backed down from your word.

These are not the reasons you stand trapped in the carriage, locked away as a sacrifice of sorts from those villagers you have never once seen as friends or even as acquaintances. No, you sit as a prisoner- well, more as a sacrifice, because you rejected a marriage proposal from the village “Hero”, although he’s more of a brute to you. It was cold, the most heat you felt right now was the fire burning from within you as you beat your fist against the iron bars in that window, struggling to hold back tears.

“Turles! You retched Bastard! You killed my father!” You shout for the umpteenth time tonight, and that bandit, that barbaric monster turns to you and laughs. He lets out a roar of laughter from the deepest pit of his stomach, and the others follow suit, all finding amusement in your grief.

Some of the older women looked at you, others cheered along. Younger women looked on with sad eyes full of pity or sympathy, understanding that no matter how loud you screamed no one would believe you. Especially not now that your father was no longer at your side, your word meant nothing.

“Look at them! Just as mad as that stubborn old buffoon! Letting his spawn learn to read, a disgrace he is! Sulling such beauty with foolish Ideals!” His tone of voice goes from laughter to straight mockery as he turns to the crowd and then glances back at you, taking several steps towards the carriage he puts on a show of them taking you away.

Throwing his hands up, he smirks as the crowd cheers before he even lets out a word, and all you can do is scowl through your teary vision. “The monster's master demands a bride, in exchange for a lifetime’s worth of protection from its deathly claws! It is just our luck, we have found a suitable unwed bride fresh for the taking! One of many that is!” He says, and you aren’t stupid. He threw that last part in on purpose as if it wasn’t enough that he had your father murdered, but his insistent pursuit of your hand in marriage was enough to make your stomach churn.

You cannot bear it any longer, you grip the bars of the carriage as they prepare to bring you to what you can assume to be your demise. The first thing that came to mind was your beloved father’s smiling face, fading into his corpse as it swung from the ceiling. “Curse you! Every last man, woman, beast! I curse you down to your graves!�� My father… he did not deserve the fate you forced upon him! Turles, you coward!” You shout, and the crowd goes quiet, especially once they see that Turles is no longer smiling. Instead turning to look at you, eyes wide with fury, mouth partially agape.

Knowing that you affected him so much, brought you some satisfaction, but knowing your fate wasn’t enough. Especially when he turned and started laughing again, this time harder than before, and once again… the men laughed with him. It wasn’t fair, watching him laugh at your pain once again, brush off your words as if they meant nothing as if a simple no didn’t result in him committing murder.

You shut your eyes, turning your head away from the scene you could hear Turles jump onto his horse, and you felt the carriage begin to move. You leaned back in the seat, there was nothing left but to accept your fate.

“The foolish tramp calls me a coward, and yet has lived with one their whole life! Those books have clearly done nothing for them if they can’t tell the difference between a hero and a coward!” He boasted as he hopped onto the stallion, and spewed more nonsense, how he’d save the village no matter the cost and be the hero once more. Then he slapped the horse's handles down onto it and you all began riding away.

The majority of it was filled with silence, and it bothered you to no extent. Then again, hearing Turles’s voice would not have helped ease your mind, so you simply listen to the wheels as they trudge through the rough roads, which smooth out temporarily as the laughter from the village dies down at last. Your eyes remained shut, and not once have you opened them as you sat by the window, the breeze not comforting in the slightest.

The last thing you expected to see when you returned home just an hour ago, was to see your father hanging from the ceiling, Turles and some of his lackeys standing there, mocking looks on their faces as they goated about you having nobody left to protect you from the fate of the streets. You remember, how your heart sunk to your stomach, how you sobbed and shoved them out of the way, falling to your knees you sobbed at your father's swinging feet, crying out to him, hoping it was some cruel joke.

You can only Imagine how they celebrate your “sacrifice.”. Drinking, laughing, dancing, etc. The fun they have at your expense is sickening, but not nearly as sickening as Turles’s gaze as he stares at you while you all ride along the trail leading to the “life:” that awaits you. You don’t expect him to say anything.

Unfortunately, he moved closer to the carriage on the horse and knocked on the bars. “Look at me.” He says as if he has any nerve to be frustrated when he takes everything from you. You didn’t budge, and you could feel the anger radiating off of him as his eyes glared holes into the side of your head.

“ if you’d just agree to be my bride… I could make this all go away. You return to the village, stop with those useless teachings, and be a proper wife. We’d make incredible children, and I could just as easily find a harlot on the side of the road to put in your place.” He whispers through gritted teeth, trying to make his words sound sweet but you know the threats behind them. Marry me or die, it’s as simple as that.

There was nothing subtle about him saying he’d pluck some poor woman from her home, probably the next one to reject a man’s proposal or advances. It made you sick to think about how easy it was to just throw some poor woman to the wolves as if they were cattle to trade for goods.

He took your silence for what it was, rejection. He banged his fist against the iron bars. “You stubborn wrench!” he berated you once again, and the road further away from the cart. Leaving you to your thoughts.

-------------------------------------------

Once you all inevitably arrived at your new hell, you finally would open your eyes, once they ripped you from the carriage seat, the first thing you did was slap the first lackey you were closest to. His head snapped to the side, and before he could lash out and possibly beat you till black and blue, you were grabbed and dragged away by another.

Looking up, you see the ancient yet beautiful stone walls towering above you. As the carriage gets closer, you notice the intricate details carved into the stone, depicting mythical creatures and intricate patterns. The castle gates are made of heavy wood, covered in vines and moss, giving it a sense of age and mystery.

‘How long has it been since anyone has been here?’ you think to yourself and can hear Turles stifle his mocking laughter.

As you enter the courtyard, you're surrounded by a variety of trees and shrubs that have grown over centuries. The castle's towers stand tall and proud, with peaked roofs and flags fluttering in the wind. The castle's exterior is weathered, but it's easy to imagine how magnificent it must have looked in its prime.

You stop at the front gate, and suddenly it feels…colder. A drop in temperature, and you felt chills go down your spine, whatever was in here… it was terrifying. The sudden stop must have made him want to try again, because soon you’d feel Turles lean over, his breath at your ear as he whispered.

“Just say the word… you’ll marry me, and I’ll have them turn around and bring you back, and you’ll even have the honor of burying your beloved father.” He says as if his words would change your mind for even a second.

The castle's grand entrance is adorned with a large wooden door, embellished with intricate carvings of knights and dragons.

He was met with silence, and you didn’t spare him a glance, which seemed to anger him further. He grabbed your arm and began to yank you further towards the castle doors, banging his fist against the door, his grip was so tight it felt as though it would bruise. “Open up! I have your bride so open the door!” He demands, a smug smirk growing on his face once the doors creak open, seemingly on its own.

He was quick to throw you inside, laughing at you once you stumbled over your feet and your knees kissed the ground. You glare at the ground, refusing to look at him, his face would do nothing but upset you more.

As you find your footing and stand up to look around, you're greeted with high ceilings and a grand staircase leading up to the upper levels. The walls are lined with tapestries depicting battles and scenes from the castle's history, while the floors creak beneath your feet while you begin to walk around.

At some point, you hear odd...clinking noises, as if something metal fell and just kept falling over and over again, it was hard not to hear it when you were in a large castle, seemingly empty of any life at all. So you were reasonably surprised when you heard a rather gruff, deep voice coming from someone.

“Ah, you must be the one they've sent to wed my son.”. You look around, trying to figure out just where that voice is coming from, and as your eyes scan the seemingly endless halls, you can’t find out where it is coming from. There was nobody there except you.

“Ah, yes. Down here, dear. Look down.” You heard the voice again and repeated tapping sounds as you looked down, a bit confused by the noise and the voice you were hearing. So when you spotted a…

Pendulum clock?

‘What an odd clock…it’s holding a candle, it could be a fire hazard.’ You think to yourself and reach down to grab the Pendulum clock, pick it up, and place it somewhere else, or hopefully use it as a source of light, after all, it was dark in the castle.

Before you could even wrap your fingers around it, you noticed a face on the pendulum clock, odd. It was wrinkled, like an old man, and the arrows of the clock were twisted to form a mustache and a large scar right over his left eye.

“Ah, they’ve sent my son quite the beauty. I’m sure you’ll do fine by his side.” The clock’s mouth began to move, and you found out where the source of the voice was coming from. As fast as you went to pick it up, you were even faster to let it go.

You let out a loud screech as you dropped to the floor and began to scurry away from the thing. Eyes wide, mouth agape and ready to unleash a loud blood-curling scream but nothing would come out from you, as if your voice had been ripped from your throat, preventing you from screaming.

Quickly, you scurried off the floor and to your feet, rushing to the exit with hopes of escape. ‘To hell with the village! They could burn it down for all I care! They’ve killed my father, made a mockery of his name, and sent me off! I’ll save myself before I risk my life for their sake!’ You think to yourself as you bolt for the door.

The sound of your footsteps echoed loudly down the hallway, growing louder and more frantic with each passing second. The rapid pace of your feet created a rhythmic pounding sound that echoed off the walls, filling the air with an urgent energy. The sound of shoes slapping against the hard floor was accompanied by the rustling of clothing and the occasional gasp of breath, creating a symphony of noise that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire castle.

As the clinking noises of the pendulum clock got closer, the sound grew more intense, accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional muttered curse. “Come back! Wait! I am harmless!”

The sound of the damn pendulum clock was unmistakable, conveying a sense of urgency and purpose that was impossible to ignore. It was a sound that demanded attention, a sound that could strike fear into the heart of anyone who heard it, something so small..was terrifying. What if it cursed you? Or set your clothes aflame with the candle it was holding?

Then you just so happened to turn to see how close, or far it was from you and you were happy to see it wasn’t close anymore. ‘Good! I’m not far from the door either!’ you think to yourself as you run and turn your head.

Unfortunately, just as you turned to look ahead you were met with a hard yet fleshy surface, running into it hard, you stumbled back, nearly falling had you not caught yourself. As you paused, the clinking got louder as did the voice.

“Ah! Broly! My boy, nice timing. Now, do be a gentleman, and take your future partner to their temporary room until we get your shared living quarters in order!” He says, and you immediately begin to mentally question who or what he was talking to.

That was until it- or he responded.

“A-Ah…yes father…” A rather gruff, deep voice coming from whatever you bumped into caught you off guard. You looked up, and as the talking pendulum clock got closer, you were able to see better.

You were able to see a well-sculpted body,, the torso, the muscles rippling, rock hard as you experienced first-hand when you first ran into them, the chest littered with different scars. His left bicep had a scar, and he had an "X"-"-shaped scar on his left pectoral reaching over his left shoulder and two smaller ones on the upper-left of his abdomen, which is his most notable feature. his skin somehow tanned despite there hardly being much sun out here.

His hair and eyes were pitch black, as black as coal. His hair was spiky, split down the middle reaching his mid-back with short bangs framing his forehead it was overgrown and wild like an ungroomed dog, and his face…

Well, it was stern and intimidating. He has a scar across his left cheek, his lips stuck into a stern frown, and his eyes glare down at you as if you were something so insignificant to him. He towers over you, and his muscles are so large there is no doubt he could crush you without thinking twice.

Your feet are glued to the floor, fear piling up within you as you are left to stare at this absolute beast of a man. There was no way you could falter, even though everything in you was screaming run. Even if you tried to take a step, he was faster which was demonstrated by how quickly he grabbed you.

Wrapping two hands around each of your arms, he lifted you off the ground in a rather awkward position. He was holding you away from him as if he was someone incapable of carrying another person. His expression didn't help much either.

Flustered, you began to shout and curse at the beast. “Unhand me! Let me go you brute!” Kicking your feet, screaming, and just overall being difficult as he begins to make his way up several flights of stairs, not saying much but he does some grunting as he tries not to drop you.

“I said unhand me! curse you!” Your body listens to your mind for once and begins to violently thrash and do whatever it takes to force him to let go, unfortunately, it doesn’t work, and he inevitably makes it to your bedroom.

Still holding onto you, he grunts as you kick and squirm against his hold. He sits you down on the bed, he just looks at you as you huff and glare up at him, looking around the room for a second as he avoids your gaze, then runs out. Shutting the door behind him.

“What the-” You start, but scoff in annoyance as you bury your face into your hands. ‘Ugh…I’m sorry father…but there’s no way I’ll find someone to protect me better than you did…I’m alone…’ You can’t help but get a bit teary-eyed at the thought of it all. Your beloved father…oh if he could see you now… you feel like he may be disappointed.

“Oh come on! Don’t cry- I mean I’m sure you’ll warm up to the place eventually!” You snapped your head up when you heard a rather feminine voice come up all of a sudden. Looking around you take notice of the room.

The room was a breathtaking display of elegance and luxury. The walls were painted in a soft shade of cream, and adorned with intricate gold leaf designs that added a touch of sophistication. The tall windows were dressed in floor-to-ceiling silk drapes, which cascaded down in gentle folds, allowing the sunlight to filter through and adding a warm glow to the space. The plush carpet underfoot was a deep shade of burgundy, adding a pop of color to the otherwise neutral palette.

In the center of the room sat a grand, ornate chandelier, with a dozen crystal arms that sparkled in the light. The furniture was equally impressive, with a large four-poster bed covered in silk sheets and plush pillows, fit for a king or queen. A matching vanity table with a gilded mirror.

Finishing touches such as fresh flowers in a crystal vase, and a tray of tea added to the overall ambiance of the room. The air was scented with a delicate fragrance of jasmine and rose due to the tea in the cup, making it feel like a haven of tranquility and relaxation. This room was undoubtedly fit for royalty and anyone who desired the epitome of luxury and elegance.

You shook your head and sighed. “Oh god…I’m losing it, what’s next? Is the Candelabra gonna talk too?” You say out loud, not expecting an answer to your sarcasm.

The golden Candelabra hopped around, it was decorated with dragons engraved on the gold and some curving to make the arms of the candelabra, once it turned you saw a rather humanoid face engraved in the wax of the Candle.

“Well yes! Now- don’t get all down, Broly is a sweet fellow!-” It’s safe to say, your mouth fell open in shock, and the Candelabra was lucky enough to jump before the pillow you slung at her knocked her off the table.

“Oh! Good, he needs someone bold!” She says as if you weren’t actively trying to kill her. Still, she talked to you with no problem while dodging your murder attempts, even when you threw a brick at her.

“Oh come on, Broly is sweet. I’m sure you’ll love him eventually, he’s a little gruff but-” You snapped and interrupted her mid-speech while she was talking up the Beast you had to lose everything for.

“That’s ridiculous! If he’s such a good “man” then why did that beast lock me in this cell?! Why did he threaten the village to burn it down if they didn't send a bride!? For all I know he’s a bastard!” You shout fist balled up in frustration as you glare at the Candelabra. Then you picked up the Candelabra

“W-wait a second- at least give him a chance! I can expla-”

Before she could finish the sentence, you tossed her down but she was caught by a nearby table, you backed away, spotted the window, and made a beeline for it. “To hell with your explanation and that blasted village!” You say and just before you could get to the window, running right towards it, you were suddenly yanked up.

“Y-You can’t leave!” Some odd voice shouts and you are shoved into what seems to be a walk-in wardrobe, the doors closing around you and locking you inside no matter how much you banged against the doors and cursed.

-------------------------------------------

This, would not be your first attempt at escaping. Even Cheelai could tell that much, so she congratulated the wardrobe for capturing you and then hopped off to have several conversations with the pendulum clock and someone named Lemo.

“Just what were you thinking Paragus?! You threatened the village to send a bride!? The curse will never be lifted now!”

“Don’t question my methods, you know nothing!” the pendulum clock now known as Paragus shouts back at Cheelai who hopped forward and would’ve started a fight had it not been for Broly putting his hands between the two to stop them.

Lemo is a very pretty white teapot decorated with koi fish wrapped around it as if they were swimming in the paint. The handle at the top of the pot was citrine, a pretty top handle. “Come on you guys, Give them a break! I’m sure they’ll warm up eventually. Broly just needs to tap more into his romantic side! How about you try and get to know her! Just observe.”

Lemo has a pretty good suggestion, unfortunately, he didn't have a lot of brains to work with other than yourself and the awkward beast you were supposed to be seduced by.

-----------------------------------------------

You, of course, would try to escape...numerous times. First by climbing out the window, which was foiled each time you did it, from Paragus having thee other servants pull you back up by the sheets you used as a rope, to Cheelai and Lemo trying to melt the seal so you couldn’t get out anymore, it was recently foiled when Broly caught on and started occasionally flying outside your window which you took as a threat.

Then there was the time you tried to sneak past the wardrobe but it blocked the door, you also tried to shove it, and that obviously didn’t work. Throughout these little attempts, you got to know the three main…objects? More closely.

You like at least two of them, but Paragus is too pushy for you to find his presence comforting.

So far you refused to eat with Broly, who just sulks and walks away when you reject the offer. He hasn’t been exactly violent, but you don't appreciate him stalking you by the window. You look at the window and could see his wild hair duck down just before you could see his eyes peeking through.

Unfortunately, because of that, you have only been able to receive bread and water for a lot of meals, even breakfast, although the bread isn’t as stale as it is at dinner time, you assume it is because Paragus is in charge of dinner and he may be particularly upset you refuse dinner with his son.

-----------------------------------

One day- or night that is. You stayed up, later than the wardrobe for once and you were able to find a way to slip out of the room you had been locked away in for who knows how long now. Not once have you had a conversation with that beast, and you had no intentions of it either.

‘I have to get out of here…’ You think to yourself as you begin to walk the halls, searching for an exit.

As you explore the castle's many rooms and hallways, you can see remnants of its former glory. The grand ballroom with its chandeliers and ornate decorations, the cozy sitting rooms with their fireplaces and comfortable chairs, and the elegant bedrooms with their four-poster beds and beautiful tapestries.

Despite its age, the castle still exudes a sense of majesty and beauty that is impossible to ignore. It's easy to imagine the many lives that have been lived within its walls and the countless stories waiting to be discovered.

Eventually, you find an unguarded door, or if it was guarded it had poor guards. You strain as you open it, grunting as you pull and pull only for it to budge ever so slightly. You were lucky you could slip through the space you were able to open.

Now that you were outside, You got a clear view of the area around you. The old forest was a desolate and eerie place, now made even more haunting by the blanket of snow that covered every inch of the ground. The snow was thick, almost knee-deep in some areas, and it muffled every sound, making the forest seem unnaturally quiet. The trees were gnarled and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers into the dark, starless sky.

The snow-covered branches creaked and groaned in the cold wind, creating an eerie symphony that echoed through the forest. The darkness was absolute, with only the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the trees. The snow-covered ground was littered with fallen branches and debris, making it difficult to navigate.

As you walked deeper into the forest, the snow became deeper, and your feet sank further with each step. The trees loomed overhead, casting long shadows in the darkness. The silence was broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustling of some unseen creature in the underbrush that sent chills down your spine.

The forest had an otherworldly feel to it as if it had been frozen in time, untouched by the outside world for centuries. The snow-covered trees were like ancient guardians of some long-forgotten secret, and the cold wind whispered secrets that no one could ever hope to understand.

Despite the chill and the eerie silence, there was a strange beauty to the forest. The snow had transformed it into a winter wonderland, and the moonlight that filtered through the trees cast an ethereal glow over everything, giving it an almost magical quality. But the beauty was fleeting, and the overwhelming feeling of isolation and danger soon crept back in, reminding you that you were in a place where you didn't belong.

You could no longer see the castle, which coulldv’ebeen a good or a bad thing considering now you had no place to go. ‘Should I really have left?’ You couldn’t help but slightly regret leaving the comfort of such a luxurious castle behind. You quickly shake your head ‘No! They’re essentially my captors! Plus, that beastly man is a creep!’ You remind yourself why you souldn’t regret it.

Soon you heard a haunting and eerie sound, a low mournful howl that rised in pitch and intensity. It sent chills down your spine but you kept going, it wasn’t like you could stop just now. The raggedy cloak you had on would only get blown away if you stopped. You didn’t have a horse to ride on, so you had to go by foot.

As you kept hiking through the snow, the wind relentless as it nearly blew you off your feet a good few times, you heard another spine-chilling howl, but this time it broke into a series of short barks. You turned around slowly, only to see one grey…wolf sitting at the top of the mountain, staring dead at you. It barked, once, twice, and then several other wolves began to come by its side.

Clearly, they saw you, and it was even more clear what would happen when you saw what you assumed to be its leader lick its fur and start running down the hill, where the others would follow behind.

You felt your heart drop down to the soles of your frozen feet. This time you had no time to freeze up in place, you had to run or they’d likely tear you apart, you’ve read enough about wolves to know they were no friendly creatures when hungry, they were predators, and without any fire or any means of defense, you were prey.

Your feet picked up in the snow a lot more now, you were kicking it away and swiping through piles and piles of it. You could hear the growls and barks of the predators behind you, you could feel your lungs forcing air into them with every painful breath you took. The snow made running a lot harder.

While the wolves were used to this weather, you were not. You were used to warm weather, not being forced to run through giant piles of snow kicking up more snow with every heavy hurried step you make as you try not to fall.

The wolves are fast, agile, and determined. They are closing in fast, snapping their jaws and baring their sharp teeth. The person being chased can feel their hot breath on their heels, and they know that any misstep could mean a fatal end. The wolves are relentless, their eyes fixed on their prey as they chase them through the forest. You can hear the rustle of the leaves and the snap of twigs as you run, trying to stay one step ahead of the pack.

Your only chance of survival is to keep moving, to find a way to outrun or outsmart the wolves. But the wolves are cunning hunters, and they are always one step ahead, always pushing their prey to their limits. You look back and your eyes seem to widen even more, these things…weren’t wolves... At least not any you’ve ever seen. They were bigger, not to mention their claws and teeth looked sharper, if you got caught then that would really be it for you.

As you desperately tried to get away, you would soon come up short, with your foot tripping over the other, you fell face first into the snow, rolling down a short hill as the wolves were quick to follow.

Somehow, the situation, got even worse when you felt your ankle twist in a way that was nowhere near painless. You felt your stomach twist in a way that made you feel as if you’d throw up from the pain that suddenly jolted through your body, you felt it through your entire leg.

However, you knew you couldn’t scream, you could hear those “wolves” behind you, and all you could do now was curse in your mind and grab a thick branch beside you as you desperately tried to crawl away, only managing to scurry underneath a tree as the wolves grew closer.

By now you were growing dizzy from the pain, and the cold weather was getting to you, your breathing heavy and uneven as they approached. Their teeth large, yellow and bared, ready to tear you apart with them.

You swung the thick branch at the “wolves”, trying to scare them away but they growled at you, sensing you were hurt and would be easy prey. One lunged at you, and as it did, you saw its claw was about the size of your head. It would tear right through your skin and spill your blood onto the snow, leaving your dead body for the others to feast upon.

‘Is this…how I die?’ You think to yourself and you see your life flash before your eyes, and in an instant, it feels like it’s so short, like you haven’t even gotten a chance to start living yet. ‘I…don’t want to die!’ You think to yourself, and you raise the stick again, but before you can swing it, the “wolf” is kicked away with a force so strong that when it hits a tree the entire thing collapses.

Your breath hitched. What could have possibly had enough power to do something like that? These things were huge, clearly had more mass than a regular wolf and they were faster too. The pack was quick to back away, and as you looked at the ground, you saw who it was that managed something like that step infront of you.

Looking up, slowing you saw a muscular back, slightly scarred as if clawed by a monster that got lucky or desperate enough to land a futile attack. Although most of it was covered by wild black hair.

“Broly…?” His name slipped out before you could stop it. He glanced at you, but he couldn’t get a word out before another one of those creatures lunged forward, aiming for you rather than him, but he grabbed it by the back of its neck, and threw it like one would throw a ragdoll.

The others don’t back down, they all start to jump at him but they seem no match for him as he casually slings them away, kicking the ones at his feet while the wind nips at your skin, another jolt of pain shoots through your leg and you feel your vision blur.

He was shaking them off like water, they tried to bite and scratch, but their teeth just barely pierced his skin, and their claws hardly tore through any wounds, drawing enough blood when they constantly tore at a wound that was already there. You could only watch in shock as he tore them off, teeth in his arm and all as he threw them to the side like their attacks meant nothing.

Had it been you in his place, they would’ve torn you to shreds. Even as he fights relentlessly, all you can do is sit behind as your vision cuts in and out. You try your best to stay conscious ‘No…he’s hurt…I shouldn’t…’.

As his body slowly comes to a blur, your vision fades to black, and you can hear his grunts and heavy breathing along with the pained whines of those creatures as they get slung around like child’s play.

Eventually, everything dies down. You can hear heavy breathing, and a whimper followed by retreating footsteps. Soon, you hear a shift in the snow, and you force your eyes to flutter open even thou you could hardly see straight. When you manage to see something, it’s Broly’s face as he leans down.

He was less blurry than before and up close, his features somehow looked softer. More kind, and if it wasn’t for your dizzy vision you would’ve thought you saw a look of concern plastered on his face.

You feel your body slowly being shifted around, scooped up as you’re held in strong arms, ones that feel warm and make you feel oddly secure. Even as you feel another sharp pain shoot through your body from your ankle, causing you to whimper, you feel the hold loosen a bit but at the same time remain secure.

The last thing you hear are some muffled words and the sound of feet Trudging through the snow, likely taking you back to the Castle.

___________________________________________

“So…How did you find out I left?” You questioned, breaking the rather awkward silence as he wrapped your ankle with some bandages after applying medicine brought to him by Cheelai. After waking up on one of the rather nice luxurious sofas in a sitting room in the castle to Broly throwing some logs in the firepit and Cheelai hopping over to light it up, the two of you haven’t spoken a word to each other, until now that is.

“Ba came to my room, he saw you when you left,” Broly said, not taking his eyes off your ankle as he gently wrapped it. He was so careful as if it would shatter if he so much as breathed the wrong way. After that, it was silent. The crackle of the firewood burning in the fireplace was the most noise in the room. It lit up the area nicely, but all you could focus on was Broly His features were softer, he looked focused, but also sad about something. You couldn’t exactly read his expression enough to find out what he could be sad about, but before you could ask, you quickly dismissed the thought, instead, you just looked at him admiring him like a piece of art.

Eventually, he was finished with your ankle, and gently placed it down. He stood up, and you got a good look at his body after the fight, some teeth marks looked bad, claw marks that seemed worse and would possibly get worse if not treated.

He tried to turn away and leave, but you couldn’t let him, before you could stop yourself, you reached out and spoke. “Wait!” Your words made him halt, as he slowly turned to look at you, and you sighed. “Please…let me treat your wounds. It's the least I could do..” You say as you move to grab the basket of medical supplies and place them in your lap.

He just stares at you for a moment, eyes slightly wide as if you were speaking in a foreign language. You patted the spot beside you, and after a while, he let out a soft grunt and turned his head away from you as he went to sit down beside you.

The couch shifted a bit but he sat in a man spread and leaned his elbow on his knee, his head resting in the palm of his hand covering his mouth, but you could see the small blush dusting his cheeks.

‘How cute…’ You think a small smile tugging at your lips before you catch yourself and quickly shake those thoughts away. You look down and start to treat his wounds in silence, more focused on making sure he didn’t end up with an infection, afterall he saved your life, you owe it to him to at least treat his wounds.

“Thank you…for saving me I mean…and wrapping my ankle.” You say suddenly, once again you were first to break the silence, and he looked at you a bit shocked before he just nodded and turned away again, his face a bit more pink now.

After that, you let the silence linger, dapping his wounds with rubbing alcohol, and rubbing ointment on them so it didn’t get infected. Then you slowly started to wrap the wound, not wanting to tie them too tightly, afterall you didn’t wanna hurt the guy that just saved your life.

The soft crackle of the fire, a small yip of what you assumed to be Ba in the background. It made for an oddly cozy feeling, one that you read about numerous times but never got the chance to experience.

“Do you…Not like it here?” He suddenly speaks up, and you look at him, your hands stopping as you stare at him, in shock by what he said for a moment. “Huh?” You question, and he looks away again. “I just…why did you run away? Put yourself in danger? I don’t understand it.” He says and you thought he was more upset that you tried to leave until he said he was upset that you put yourself in danger. You didn’t say anything for a while, choosing a moment of silence to gather your thoughts.

“At least next time…Let me know. So I don’t have to worry about you like that…” He mumbles, your ears caught wind of his words and you look at him again before you go back to wrapping, but this time, you know what to say.

“I'm sorry-” He starts, but you cut him off. “Don’t be. It’s a Nice castle, but you have to understand…I didn’t come here of my own will, I was ripped from my childhood home and brought here to marry you. I don’t know anyone here, I don’t know you and yet I’m here to be wed to you.” You explain with a softer tone than even you expected to come out of your mouth. You never would've expected something so gentle to come from you of all people.

Continuing to wrap his wounds, you felt his gentle eyes on you the entire time. As if he was stuck in a trance, trapped staring at you while you focused on tending to his wounds, and after a while he spoke again.

“I didn’t know…and…I really don’t know you either…” He stutters over his words, finding it troublesome to speak when you look at him, making eye contact with him as you pause the process of wrapping a bandage around his arm. His heart felt like it was doing flips, you were just so pretty, as if you were sculpted by an angle, and your hands were so soft…

After a moment, he saw you tilt your head and tried to find his voice and make his words seem less…insensitive.

“B-But, I’d like to…If you don’t mind.” He adds in that last part quickly, as if scared he would get a bad reaction if he missed even the smallest word. It was… appalling how a man as strong as him, a man that could destroy an entire village was tripping over his own words in front of you, his cheeks dusted a light pink as he switched from eye contact to avoiding your eyes. How could someone so strong be so nervous in front of you?

“No, I don’t mind at all…I’d like to know you too.” You say with a soft smile and you could swear you saw him melt then and there, like a light just twinkles in his eyes as his breath hitched and he just nodded.

“O-Okay…” He starts, but he runs out of words, so you speak up for him. “...Would you like to have dinner together?” You asked him and he nodded his head, You chuckled and looked down to continue wrapping his arm, the fire crackling in the background, but the silence wasn’t all that bad right now… actually it was quite comforting.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Drawn Together 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Note: I wasn’t sure how this chapter would go but hoo boy.

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You bring out the platter of cheese, crackers and grapes and place it on the round table by the sofa. As you do, you hear the front door and your heart lurches. Oh gosh, you’re not prepared. For any of this. As you haven’t been for Steve.

You stand and face the archway over the stairs as a steady ascent creaks on each step. You brush your trembling hands over your dress and swallow through your dry throat. A woman appears, her finely waved blond hair so pale that the silver is indiscernible. Her face is long and elegant though she is not very tall herself, scrawny even in the cinched coral dress. Mrs. Rogers.

Her blue eyes, the same hue as her son, wander around the room. Her lips hold the shadow of a smile and she finds you standing nervously by the sofa. Her cheeks bulb and her lips curve delightfully.

“Ahh, honey, there you are!” She struts over to you as Steve appears behind her, “I’ve waited so long to meet you.”

You’re overcome as she advances on you. With nowhere to go, you can only let her kiss both your cheeks with her precisely lined lips. She grasps your shoulders and looks you up and down at arm’s length.

“Wow, you are so beautiful, darling,” she preens, “this dress is wonderful,” she pulls back one hand as the other follows a fold in the fabric, “if not a bit evening, but oh,” she parts completely and spins, “this is such a quaint little home you’ve got.”

“Sweetheart, this is my–”

“Of course she knows who I am, Stevie,” his mother spins around, so lithe that she seems to float. Her age does not slow her, “you said so yourself, but let’s not forget ourselves. You may call me Sarah, honey.”

“It’s…” you glance past her to Steve as he watches intently, “it’s nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“Ah, excuse me, I am just elated. I am so happy that my boy’s finally found such a nice girl.” She goes to the window and hums as she taps one of the bent nails. Peculiar but not enough to bother her. “And to think he’s hidden you for so long,” she pivots back to point at her son, “and when he told me I had this dreadful fear that he would go so far as to say you eloped!”

You blink, speechless, looking between her and Steve. He’s not very concerned as he watches her flutter around. In fact, he seems rather pleased with himself.

“But he knows how much I’ve looked forward to his wedding and I have so many ideas,” she proclaims, “what were we thinking for the dress? Lace? You would look fine in satin.”

You sniff and try to gather your wits, “I… I haven’t decided.”

“Well, ma,” Steve steps forward, “I haven’t exactly had a chance to uh… pop the question. Um, your ring?”

“Ah, yes, yes,” she touches her cheeks, “I hope I haven’t spoiled anything.”

“All good, ma,” Steve comes up and turns to stand beside you, stretching his arm across your shoulders, “she knows she’s the one.”

You pinch your cheeks between your teeth. You want to scream. You want to run. And as his fingers tickle the sleeve of your dress, you sorely want to slap him.

“Aww, you two are so cute together,” she squeals as she strides up to him. She straightens his collar and fixes his tie, “you look so much better when I can’t see all those scribbles.”

“Ma,” Steve warns.

“And how do you feel about it? All that mess on his skin?” She looks over at you.

You hesitate and shake your head, “um, I…”

You move your foot back in an effort to hide your own tattoo. She senses the movement and her eyes flick down. She leans a bit to get a glimpse and her eyes narrow.

“Honey, please tell me you’re not covered in the same.”

“No, ma,” Steve interjects, “that one’s for me. That’s it.” He squeezes you against him tighter, “she’s a good girl, like I told you.”

“Yes, yes, you do talk a lot, why don’t you let the girl speak for herself?”

“Well, I–” Steve begins, “of course she can, I was only–”

“You were only being rude,” Sarah reaches and takes your hand, “come, honey, I want to see more. Show me around and we can talk.”

“Uh, sure,” you pull away from Steve slowly. You feel his gaze on you and try to ignore it, “it’s pretty small.”

“Modest, it’s sensible,” she clings to you, “oh, and there’s your piano. He says you’re very gifted. He’s always been an avid player but he never did much with it. He was more into his drawings.”

“Oh, yeah, I… my grandfather taught me to play,” you utter, just to have something to offer.

“Ah, and your parents? Mother, father? They’ll be at the wedding?”

“Um…” You don’t know what to say. You fidget with your free hand, tugging at the fabric of your skirt, “no. They… passed.”

“Honey,” she says as she stops at the mouth of the hall, “I am so sorry. I had no idea.” She turns you and pulls you into a hug, her skinny arms tight around you, “that’s absolutely horrid but we’ll make do.” She draws back and cradles your face, “hm, your lips would do well in a sweet shade of rose, I think.”

You’re put off by the suggestion. So sudden and sharp. Amidst the talk of death and grief, she can’t help but bring up cosmetics? Well, she is a bit strange and what can you expect given her son has proven to be entirely unpredictable.

“Um, I’ll show you the master, then, the guest, and um, the office is just closed up right now.”

“Oh, office? Why’s that?”

“Just… needs some fixing up,” you lie, “I’m working on it.”

“That’s too bad. Well, it would do to clear it out and make a nursery. I’d love to help–”

“A nursery?” You stop her at the end of the hall, just before your bedroom door. Why are you doing this? Why are you playing along? “What–”

“You’re going to have babies. You’re still young enough, he is too. I know he’s a bit older but men are virile for a lot longer. You on the other hand, you should start thinking–”

“I’m not having babies,” you spit out, “are you as crazy as he is?”

Her lashes flick down then up. She lets go of your hand and faces you as he arched brows rise, wrinkles lining her forehead, “crazy?”

“Yes,” you hiss, “crazy. I don’t know your son. He’s got me trapped here. He’s… He’s…” You shake your head and scoff, “your son is a psychopath and he doesn’t live here. None of this is real. Do you understand?”

She shakes her head as her eyes flutter madly. She touches her throat as her lip quivers, “I don’t understand what you mean,” her voice cracks.

You huff and roll your eyes. “I’m not doing this.”

You turn on your heel and stomp down the hallway. You don’t look up, you don’t look anywhere but ahead of you. You barrel down the stairs, surpassing your shoes as you twist the knob. The door shifts but does not open.

You hear the top stair groan and a shadow falls over you from above. You fumble with the latch but find another lock you can’t undo. Shiny brass, newly installed. A hole you have no key for. What the hell? This can’t be.

“Sweetheart,” Steve comes down the stairs as you turn the handle back and forth desperately, clawing at the wood, “where are you–”

“Help! Help! Let me out!” You scream at the door, “someone! Anyone–”

Steve’s hand smothers your mouth and his arm hooks around your middle. He yanks you away from the door as he grunts. You flail as he drags you backwards, up one step at a time. You thrash and grab at the banister, your fingers slipping with his strength, a fingernail breaking as it catches on the wood.

You murmur into his palm as he drags you onto even ground. You kick out as he struggles to subdue you. Your eyes water as you see Sarah standing in the hallway. She comes closer and looks you over as you try to dislodge Steve’s hand. You plead with your eyes. Can’t she see how afraid you are?

“You said she was a good girl, Stevie, but I think she could do with some discipline,” Sarah declares, “don’t you?”

“Yes, mother,” he answers, his voice rumbling through you, “I’m sorry. Please ma, she is good. Please, I want to keep this one.”

Sarah clucks and nears. A tear beads over the brim of your eye and falls. She traces its path with her thumb, “then you know what to do, Stevie. If she is to be a good wife, a wife good enough for my son, you must punish her.”

Your garble and round your eyes. Your heart throbs and your ears ring. No, no, no.

“You must do it, Stevie,” Sarah’s voice hardens to stone, “look at her. She needs it.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #sarah rogers #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #drawn together #mcu #marvel #captain america #au #tattoo au

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