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rae-writes · 4 months

Text

OnlyFantoms???

om brothers x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw, gn!reader with skirt wearing (mammon, satan), panties/lingere wearing (satan, asmo), online sharing

synopsis : let's see what the latest trending porn videos are

a/n : for some reason, tumblr desktop is making the symbols bold and way bigger than they're supposed to be, so if you're on desktop just ignore how that looks :/

being asked about it in a livestream

Your legs are spread open for the camera, hooked over your boyfriend’s with no chance of closing them, while his hand is shoved down the front of your bottoms. The other roams your body— sliding up your shirt and wrapping around your throat. Your arms are clearly straining themselves as they hold your body up, all so you could rock your hips against Lucifer’s fingers; though the view is covered by your clothes, the slick sounds are all too clear, giving away how aroused you really were. When your arms finally give out and you fall back against his chest, there’s a shift in the air that you can practically feel as his bicep flexes under the fabric of his shirt, free arm yanking you up higher on his lap so he can finger you harder. Over the sound of your moans and cries for him to ‘please let me cum, been s’good for you, please please please’, you can hear Lucifer’s signature low chuckle and the faint sound of his shaky breathing before he’s giving you permission, outright laughing when you squeal and jerk in his grasp. His hand slips from your bottoms, and though his face isn’t in frame, it’s clear he’s licking your cum off his fingers right before the video cuts off.

Good grades get rewarded | 0:45 seconds | 108.k views | 100.k likes | 97.k comments

Lucifer?!

Hand cam hand cam hand cam

Dude, isn’t Mc a straight A student? THIS IS WHAT THEY GET FOR EVERY A??

I’d good grades too if I had the morning star behind me like this

^I’d get good grades if I could have Mc in my lap like this tf

†

Panting and moaning fill the dim atmosphere, mixing in with the faint sound of slapping skin as large hands push and pull at your hips. The camera is positioned only to catch your lower bodies, but through the dark you can still catch the bobbing of Mammon’s adams apple and the curve of your mouth as you place kisses along his jaw. His grip on your hips makes your skirt ride up higher and higher, showing more and more slivers of skin until your entire ass is on display. There’s a shine- the mix of your cum and his- everytime he pulls you up, only to disappear with a filthy ‘shlick’ as he yanks you back down onto his cock. There’s a natural haze to the lens and the windows are entirely fogged up— sweat is beading and rolling down his exposed chest, showing you’ve been at this much longer before the recording ever started. By now, the second born has started emitting whiny growls as he switches to grinding you and the audio picks up a nearly inaudible choked out version of your name before his arms are circling around you and he’s lifting you up slightly with his last thrust. It’s quiet as you pet his hair while he’s busy massaging your waist- and then you're reaching over to grab the camera with a giggle, angling it to see the mess you’ve both made over your clothes. There’s a hushed ‘Lucifer’s gonna kill us-!’ before the screen goes black.

Greed is the name of the game | 2:45 minutes | 95.k views | 91.k likes | 86.k comments

A Y O???

PLS mammon sounded so hot

I don’t know who I’m jealous of or who I’d rather be rn

I wanna be the car

Come get y’all’s dinner, we’re eating good toDAY

†

The pretty lighting of the fish tank washes over you, highlighting the red scratch lines trailing down Levi’s abdomen to where you’re placing kisses along his hips and pelvis. The sounds are a bit exaggerated- both to make the demon squirm in embarrassment- and because you’ve got the hood of his jacket thrown up to cover your face. Levi’s got his arms pressed close to his chest, hands gripping the controller so hard the plastic creaks every so often; you can hear the shooting from his game and the frantic mashing of buttons. When you finally take his cock in your mouth, seen by your head bobbing at a fast pace, a loud moan rips from his throat and his hips begin thrusting against your ministrations. The room is filled with whines and whimpers, begs to ‘please go faster’, and your amused laughing. There’s a distinct pop when you pull off his cock and replace your mouth with your hand, all so you could lean up and slam your lips against his. Levi throws the controller to the side, hands scrambling to grab the back of your head and the wrist of the hand that’s jerking him off. He’s practically brainless now as he cries and begs for you to make him cum, switching between that and making those lewd, slick, noises whenever your tongue plays with his. When you command him to cum, he shrieks at the intensity, pulling you closer and closer until you're on top of him and his cum is streaking your clothes. There’s a meek ‘I’m sorry’ and the sound of your giggling before your hands go to the waistband of your pants and the video cuts off.

Motivation for true gamers | 1:30 minutes | 87.k views | 85.k likes | 74.k comments

Making these sounds my alarm as we speak

WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

Suddenly I’ve become a master gamer

Never picked up a controller in my life but I’m otw to buy one rn

Reverse the roles please I beg!!

†

There’s a fairly large spellbook in your hands as you sit on your boyfriend’s lap at one of the library tables; he has his head buried in the crook of your neck, fingers digging at your hips as he subtly rocks you back and forth over his cock. The side profile shows only your skirt bunched up to your upper thighs and lace green panties tugged down to your knees— everything is completely covered, even when Satan gets bold and begins bouncing you up and down. No sounds are made except for a faint creaking of the chair and the spellbook thudding against the table when your back arches. All movements halt when someone’s shadow passes by, but as soon as they’re gone, your arms reach back to wrap around Satan’s neck, fingers burying in his blonde locks and tugging desperately. You can’t help the way you begin fucking Satan without his guidance or the way short whimpers begin falling from your lips. He lets out a low hiss, wrapping a hand around your mouth harshly to keep things quiet, all while he pushes you forward to bend over the table as he stands. He pounds at you roughly, using the fabric of your skirt to keep your skin from slapping together. The frantic pace doesn’t stop until he’s got you shaking from your orgasm and he’s following along with a muffled growl. Only then does he let go of your mouth and kiss at where his fingers dug in a little too roughly, massaging over your hips as he whispers about a ‘another study session well done’ before the video cuts.

Shh— quiet in the library | 5:00 minutes | 91.k views | 87.k likes | 82.k comments

regretting never getting into reading after this

what days do you two go to the library, asking for a friend

my face was pressed up against the screen the entire video

can I be the bookmark

putting in my librarian application asap

†

It was a sight that would be found in the best of porn magazines: your body on display with a pretty- expensive- champagne lingerie set that matched the fifth born’s hair color to a tee, while Asmo himself was completely bare, smiling face all dolled up and in frame. What made it even more delicious was his manicured fingers wrapped around his own cock, sliding along the slick area as he gave breathy moans and laughs, all while resting his head on your thigh to watch you pleasure yourself as well. Each bite and lick he delivered to your skin was slow and drawn out, matching the pace each of you were going— but one sharp tug to Azzy’s locks made his back arch with a sharp cry, eyes flashing pink. It’s a blur as he yanks you on top of him, lace-covered ass now on full display for the camera as it bounces along with his movements. The noises are so beautifully vile as you both grind against one another, moans reflecting back that get louder and louder the harder he pulls you down. A few whiny ‘I’m gonna cum!’ exclamations escape him before he forces his cock in you at the last second and practically screams with how intense it made everything feel. There’s thirty seconds of sweet talk and giggling before he’s lifting you up bridal style and you both wag your fingers at the camera before the video ends.

Dress up, dress down | 8:15 minutes | 123.k views | 117.k likes | 103.k comments

I can die happy now

FOR FREE?!?!

I can’t decide who sounds better or looks better

^the answer is both

thank you for the fIVE COURSE FUCKING M E A L

†

The sound of running water does nothing to hide the sharp sounds of slapping skin or the rumbly growls Beel is letting out. His wings are sparkling under the shower spray, fluttering rapidly as he fucks into you; his muscles flex with each movement, practically showing off to the camera since he has his backside facing it. Your legs, lifted up to his shoulders with your knees to your ears, and your hands gripping tightly at his horns are the only part of you that can be seen. Your voice echoes, though, loud and whiny moans that hitch each time he delivers a harsher thrust. You can see his hands wandering, unable to pick a place to grip or knead underneath his fingertips, just like his head keeps tilting or ducking down to scatter kisses and bites and hickeys over your skin. When his pace finally falters, it’s due to his stuttering hips and an unrestrained moan tears from his throat, followed by ‘c-cumming! G’na cum inside, fuck, fuck—!’ You can see his knees buckle a bit and your hands white-knuckling his horns. He gives a few frantic thrusts before he crushes your body against him and stills, letting the water cascade down your bodies with content sighs. The sound of a door opening echoes, followed by laughter from multiple people, before you’re whispering ‘now how are you gonna sneak me out?’ and the video cuts black.

A filthy cleaning | 6:26 minutes | 89.k views | 78.k likes | 72.k comments

Can we talk about his sheer strength?? The muscles?? The effortless pace??

THAT ASS THO

ain’t never seen a more lucky human

Is that…the Fangol’s locker room showers-

I— please??

†

For a moment, there’s only giggling and the rustling of blankets to be heard as you crawl onto Belphie’s lap— whose face is completely hidden by the plush pillows surrounding him. There’s a faint huff from the demon as you begin grinding on his lap, which quickly devolves into groans the harder you press against his bulge. It’s not long before he’s full on moaning, though not yet awake, and you’re lifting yourself up to take his cock out. His oversized shirt you’re wearing hides you well- only showing enough skin to tell you weren’t wearing underwear- and shields the way you fist his cock before lining it at your entrance. Belphie stirs then, voice coming out hoarse as he calls your name groggily. You drop down, not bothering to go slow, and the seventh born lets out a high pitched whine, hips raising in surprise before he’s flush against the bed again, letting you fuck him till your hearts content. You do exactly that, with your hands pressed to his chest for support, and his own clawing desperately at your thighs. His voice remains in a higher pitch, moaning and whining and whimpering, getting louder and louder until you let out a sharp demand for him to cum, and then he’s cumming with a broken gasp— all Belphie can do is give choked cries when you keep rocking your hips and the video ends after hearing your ‘nu-uh, baby, not done yet. Still want more.’

Wake up call | 7:30 minutes | 84.k views | 80.k likes | 75.k comments

holy fuck I wanna be belphie so bad

why don’t I get woken up this way wtf

This! Is! How! You! Do! It! People!

Can— can we just. Talk about that WHINE THOUGH?!

The grip on their thighs and hoarse moans are sending me

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misc-obeyme · 3 months

Note

Hi cc💕 could I request some mammon fluff headcanons 🥺🥺

Hi there, anon!

Of course you can, my friend. I'm sorry it took so long! But I actually feel like this turned out pretty okay? It's definitely fluffy at any rate. And what can I say, I love Mammon. I still don't know what it is about him.

Thank you for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Mammon

Warnings: none

Everyone knows that Mammon is down bad for you. Even though he tries to play it off, he can't truly hide it from anyone. He will bluster and try to maintain his cool guy persona, but the reality is that no one is fooled. And the minute you're alone with him, it's like he becomes a different demon.

Mammon is a troublemaker, but he's also fun. When you first meet him, he's always scheming to find ways to make some fast Grimm. But as time goes on, he starts scheming about the best ways to make you smile. He comes up with some elaborate date ideas, taking you places that he thinks will impress you, constantly trying to outdo himself.

Despite this, he also enjoys a simple hang out. He'll take you in his car and just drive around the Devildom. He surprises you by stopping somewhere remote with a beautiful view of the city and the stars. Any time he wants you to himself, away from the chaos of his brothers, he asks if you want to go for a spin. You know this eventually leads to steamy make out sessions on the car hood because Mammon has a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

He's overprotective sometimes, but it makes you feel safe so you don't mind. If he ever feels like you're threatened in any way, he will immediately get between you and whatever the danger is. You have to talk him down occasionally, when a perceived insult from someone makes him start throwing punches.

Mammon likes to touch you. He needs the physical reassurance of your presence. He's always seeking out your hand or putting his arm around your shoulders. Even just sitting close to you is enough, your legs pressed together. If he can have his arms around you, he will. In quiet moments, when you're alone, he'll hold you as close as he can. He'll bury his face in your neck, taking in the feel of you, his grip almost desperate like he won't survive if he ever lets go.

It's at those times when he also finds he can't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. Words that he would never say where anyone else could hear. Words that he's kept bottled up for too long. Words that when he finally says them, he realizes he needs you to hear them. You listen and it's like stream of consciousness, almost incoherent, but there's no question that every word is about how much he loves you. About how important you are to him. About how he can't stand being apart from you.

He might even apologize. He knows it's his greed that makes him like this, too needy, too clingy, only wanting more. More of your time, more of your attention, more of your touch and your words and your soul - more of you. He might need your reassurance. Please, MC. Please tell him that ya don't mind. You hafta understand what ya do to him.

You do understand. You tell him as much, as often as he needs to hear it. You hold him close when he wants your touch. You stay beside him when he wants your time. You always answer when he calls you, always focus on him when he's with you. It turns out you've fallen just as hard for him as he has for you. Both of you are so lost in each other it starts to feel like nobody else even exists.

In those rare moments when you are apart, you can almost feel that red string of fate tying you together. When you enter a room that he's in, your eyes find him before anything else. And he's always looking right back at you, a bright grin on his face. When you're thinking of him, your D.D.D. will ding with a message where he's just saying hi. When you're in the human world, it feels like the universe is conspiring to bring the two of you back together.

Mammon will take you to parties and buy you expensive gifts that he worked hard to earn the Grimm for. He will make you feel like you've won the jackpot every day of your life. His favorite thing is to hear you laugh and to laugh with you.

He doesn't bother to think about how human you are. He has told you simply that he just wants to love you while you're still with him. Don't worry about the future. Not when he can have you right here, right now, safe in his arms.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #omnb #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfic #om headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #om mammon #obey me mammon x reader #om mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #om mammon x mc #misc cozy comforts #misc writes

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butterflewaway · 1 year

Text

Credit for prompt: @ravencutebuttevil

"It's just so silly goofy how the MC is so concerned about people seeing their hands but they're apparently so hot that no one cares."

Warnings: MAJOR simping on everyone's behalf i'm sorry, tipsy mc, CONSENT IS KEY, Leander calling your darling is warning enough, ends with Kuras being amazing <3

Pairing: All x Reader

Word Count: 870

______________________________________________________________

It's hard living like this. Never being able to feel the skin of another person, the bliss of intimacy. Always haunted by what could be. So you kept to yourself.

As everyone drank the night away and laughed and had the time of their lives in the small bar, consuming unholy amounts of watered down beer, you sat alone. Cape wrapped around your body, hood half way to hiding your face. You looked only at your drink. And everyone only looked at you.

As you sat recluse on your barstool at the very edge, five pairs of eyes bore into your back. In your bandaged hands you nursed your eighth glass of cheap whisky. Sipping the burning drink, you rested your chin on you palm. It was cold in the bar. Even wrapped up as you were, you felt the biting of cold on your cursed fingertips.

A chair was pulled out next to you, and down sat a figure. Leander was the first to make his move, unbeknownst to you. His charming grin had faded into a softer smile as he looked down at you. "Face is a bit red, isn't it? Already drunk I see?" His stupid sweet voice almost lulled you to sleep. He was whispering in what was an attempt to preserve your dignity. Not that any of his Bloodhounds cared, they were too busy focusing on a loud drinking game.

You hiccuped quietly and sat up straight, glaring at him with an uncharacteristic pout. "I am not drunk. That's absurd." He just smiled wider and takes your hand into his gloved ones. Your eyes widen as brief panic overtakes you before you remember that this might be the only man in the world capable of touching you and being perfectly fine.

His hands exude a warmth that is foreign to you, encasing your fingers and palm. "Time to retire for the night, don't you think darling?" You scowl and pull your hand away. "N-never- I-" You stand abruptly and topple over your chair. Before your beautiful face reaches for a tantalizing kiss with the floor, two strong arms catch you.

You land in an even warmer embrace. Surely, the floor would have been cold and unforgiving. Instead, Ais peers down at you with a sharp grin of his own, teeth glinting in the soft light emitting from the bar. Your eyes are wide, all alcohol purged from your system. Your face tinges red as he pulls you up, but does not let go.

Just as sudden, you are yanked out of Ais's embrace, a scorching hand on your wrist. Noting with more severe panic that your wrist is covered, you look up to see your assailant. Vere is smirking, but he does not look pleased to see your blush directed at Ais. The fox is... jealous? Just as he opens his mouth to something haughty no doubt, you are once again yanked.

You're confused, head spinning. Swearing to yourself you would never drink again, you survey the room slowly until your sleepy gaze finds your newest assailant. This time it's Mhin, and they are boring holes into Vere's skull. "Don't touch. You- you-" Seething with rage, Mhin barely has the words to express their hatred for the smirking fox.

As they engage in a staring contest with the fox, Ais and Leander watch in amusement. You are left standing there with a dumbfounded expression at the pissing contest being had. Just as you are about to slip away, a hand is placed on your shoulder. You brace yourself as you come face to face with none other than Kuras.

You let out a sigh of relief and a gentle smile appears on his face. He places his second hand onto your forehead, brushing away any hair in the way. "Are you alright? That was quite a frightful fall. You are flushed." You burn hotter as you observe the taller man. He is calm and quiet, and you feel the rest of the bar mute around you, all noises and laughing fading into the background.

There is nothing but Kuras's beaming golden eyes, gazing into your own. You exit quietly as he leads you to your room, his hand never leaving your shoulder. He opens your door and ushers you inside. You're still dazed when he gently pushes you down to sit on the bed and kneels in front of you.

All thoughts are suddenly drained out of your head as you stare down at this beautiful man, kneeling in front of you. He unlaces your boots and pulls them off, placing them neatly beside the door. As he stands back up, you fall down onto your mattress, the air leaving your lungs as Kuras walks back over to you and smiles again. He grabs your blanket and pulls it over you.

You're half asleep as he tucks you in, and you faintly feel warm fingers brushing your hair out of your face. A whispered, "Goodnight, dear.'", is all that is heard before the clicking of a door being shut. As you sleep soundly, Kuras ignores the eyes stabbing holes through him as he bids his companions goodnight and exits the bar, the smallest smile on his lips.

#touchstarved vere #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved demo #touchstarved vn #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved headcanons #touchstarved fic #leander touchstarved #kuras touchstarved #ais touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved meme #red spring studio #vere #touchstarved ais #ts kuras #ts leander #touchstarved leander

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thekidsralright · 11 months

Text

a love worth fighting for.

pairing: abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis: anderson is the name on everybody's lips when it comes to discussing the newest up-and-coming boxers of the season. with the help of her coach and you by her side, she's going for the world title. but what will she have to sacrifice to get there?

an: so, it's finally here. this is a big one for me folks - i'd go as far as to say the biggest fic i've ever worked on. ever. i'd love for this to be multi chapter, but that depends on the reception part 1 receives. if you like it, please reblog and let me know your thoughts. i'm proud of this, so be kind with your comments x

warnings: 18+ mdni. violence, swearing, references to smut (despite this chap not having any super explicit content, if i decide to continue this fic there will defo be heavy smut in the next upload - so don't even bother reading the first part if you're not of age).

The MC’s voice reverberates throughout the stadium, drowning out the cacophony of cheers, boos, and overarching buzz from the crowd. You could never predict who they would back until the night, usually finding that boxing fans are easily swayed depending on who gets the first punch in. You were hoping all support would be directed at her tonight, god she needed it. Trying to maintain a positive attitude is hard when your girlfriend's opponent is making his way into the ring, his impressive height and wide, muscular shoulders towering leagues above his teams; arms raised, working the crowd and hyping them up in anticipation for the fight to come. They’re already eating out of his hands, the bastards.

“Ladieeees and Gentlemaaan! Welcome to the main event. In the blue corner, weighing in at 188 pounds, undefeated in 48 fights; he needs no introduction folks - it’s the man, the beast, Zach ‘Thunderstorm’ Norriiiiiis!”

The crowd roars in excitement, slapping their hands together and pumping their fists in the air. Zach is one of the nation's favourites, as any undefeated boxer would be. The nickname ‘Thunderstorm’ came from the sound his opponent’s bodies would make when they hit the canvas, like the crack of lightning. You look ahead with a neutral expression, keeping your eyes focused on the empty archway ahead of you - trying not to zero in on just how big his arms were. How they could crush someone's airways, smash apart their ribs, do irreplaceable damage.

You inherently hated what your girl did as a profession, hated the way she put herself in harm's way time after time after time. But there was also a part of you that admired her for it, for the unbreakable determination that radiated from her - if she got beaten down, she would get right back up and come at you even harder. It’s what kept forcing you to show up. That, and also the tiny factor of being absolutely in love with the woman. But when she got hurt, which seemed to be every other day lately, you really wanted to grab a hold of her fucking head and shake the-

“Aaaaand coming into the red corner, Thunderstorm’s opponent, weighing in at 175 pounds. She hails from Salt Lake City, and is rising through the ranks quickly. With 30 wins, 24 of them coming by way of knockout, give it up for the new kid on the block - it’s Abbyyyyyy Andersooooon!”

And here she comes, bowling out of that archway with Coach right on her tails; the hood of her red robe covering her plaited hair, matching red gloves already fastened and ready. Even from where you were waiting by the stalls, you could see the all-too-familiar expression that befalls her face before every fight. Eyes so dark they look black, focused, unwavering; brimming with unshed aggression that are preparing for the violence that is about to ensue.

Frightening. Arousing. Another reason you’re still with her.

Abby ducks under the ropes of the ring, bouncing on her feet as she grounds herself on the canvas before moving over to her corner where Coach is now waiting. As you rush up to them, Coach gives you the look he always does before a fight - the type that screams, ‘you shouldn’t be here, girl.’ He thinks you’re a distraction, an irritating fly he’d rather swat away so he can make sure his prized money maker has the best chance at winning. You weren’t giving in that easily. Coach could go to hell for all you cared; you knew his real motivations when it came to all of this. Abby may regard him like a father, but you saw him for what he really was. A leech.

Coach shouts up into Abby’s ear, her head bent in concentration - “He’s a fucking showman. That, and a bit of muscle. You know you got the upper hand tactically; he has no fucking clue what’s about to hit him. Just stay focused Anderson, and this bout is yours.”

Abby nods resolutely, eyes trained on the canvas as she rolls her shoulders back and cracks her neck. Coach’s hands come up to grip the ropes between them.

“You gotta win this champ, you can win this. Just don’t. get. distracted.”

Both Coach’s and Abby’s eyes turn to you at the same time as you offer up a reassuring smile to your girlfriend, also now clutching at the ropes that separate you.

“You got this babe.”

She nods quickly and gives a tight smile, but you can tell from the tense line of her shoulders that she’s stressing out. Yes she’s fought before, but it was never on this big of a scale. Never against opponents like him. It was what Coach insisted was the next step –

“You wanna face off a load of wimps Anderson? Or do you wanna make it to champion status?... Yeah? Of course you fucking do. Then you gotta get in front of the crowds and beat the shit out of the favourites.”

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one going up against an undefeated fighter. But you had faith in your girl. That was never going to change. You move closer to the ring as she crouches down into the corner, Coach double checking he has all the supplies that she would need between rounds. You take her face in your hands through the division of the ropes and pull her in for a quick kiss - before she can move away, you hold her there and take her chin in your grip, eyes lingering on hers.

“Win this…like I know you can, and then come home and fuck me like a champion.”

You don’t give her time to respond as you let her face go and back away, moving into the crowd as you cheer her name. That posture of stress has eased slightly, and a smug smile is planted on her face instead. Coach, of course, comes and wipes that smirk away as he puts her mouthguard in, holding her head still as he most likely shouts some type of bull at her once again. But of course, she’s listening to him like it’s gospel. Amped up and ready to fight, Abby raises herself to full height, bouncing on her feet and swinging her arms to the side. The crowd aren’t sure what to make of her, most of them never even hearing her name before. But there is the occasional cheer for “Anderson!” amongst the rally of support for Norris. After all, people do love an underdog.

The announcer calls Abby and Norris into the middle of the ring, a hand on both of their chests as he explains, “Now I want a nice, clean game. Nothing below the belt. Are we clear?”

Both nod, pressing against the MC’s outstretched hands in an act of intimidation towards the other. Abby’s face is like stone, never breaking eye contact and standing strong. Norris on the other hand, his smirk was the show of pure arrogance. She better fuck this dickhead up. Both back away from each other, getting into a southpaw stance as the MC’s voice rings out for the last time.

“Are we readyyyyy…FIGHT!”

You forget about everything else when that bell rings; the crowd getting louder, Coach’s bellows erupting from her corner, the look on Norris’ face as he circles his prey. The toll of that bell ringing in your ears sounds like a death sentence, also signalling the start of round 1.

____________

By round 4, the feeling of uneasiness settles in your stomach and your eyes continue to follow her quick-shifting form, matching her movements so that when she ducked or flinched back, so did you. Both fighters have been pretty level with one another so far, both sending out jabs and uppercuts - only for them to be warded off before any real damage could be inflicted. It’s not enough to win though, she needs a clear hit.

Abby goes in for a right hook, ever so slightly clipping Norris’ chin and the crowd ripples in response, hoping for the real fight to begin soon. Norris responds with a clinch to stop her from advancing too quickly, wrapping his arms around and over her. You hated seeing him touch her like that, your own fists clenching at your sides in response.

The bell tolls again signalling the end of the round, both fighters making their way to their respective posts - but not before you see Norris saying something in Abby’s ear. She doesn’t move for a second, eyes unwavering on Norris as he turns his back. For a second you think she might go for him, but she’s worked too hard to let her temper win now. With a shake of her head, she goes over to Coach and plunks down on the ground - tearing off her gloves with her teeth and ripping out her mouthpiece. Her focus is still sharply on Norris across the ring, most likely getting strategy tips and a pep talk in her ear from Coach, reminding her to channel all that anger back into the task at hand.

You don’t move from your seat in the crowd, wanting to give her the space to fully zone in. She knows you’re here for her and only her, and you provided enough motivation at the beginning of the night to last the duration. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the view at the moment either, and that those feelings of uneasiness were also coupled with an overwhelming tide of arousal.

The way sweat is dripping down her face and neck, trickling down her chest and onto her arms. How she runs her hands over the top of her head, dousing it in water and brushing through the roots with her fingers to cool off. Yeah… you really hoped she did win tonight, not just because she deserves it from how hard she’s been training, but selfishly a part of you really wants to get fucked good tonight. Especially after the show she’s putting on for you right now. And you know for a fact it’s only for you.

Abby’s let you know multiple times how much she loves you watching her fight, seeing her crush opponents to a pulp and looking absolutely glorious doing so. It’s upsetting that tonight, she isn’t doing so well. But this is what she and Coach wanted, to start moving up the leagues and facing off against better fighters - solidifying her name among the real competition. You try to stop the negative thoughts from creeping in, try to stay positive for your girl.

The rounds keep stacking up, neither Abby or Norris winning the upper hand for long. It’s evident that both fighters are getting aggravated by round 9, their punches falling on the side of reckless, their expressions displeased and downright pissed. You shout as loud as you can, “Come on baby, you can do this!” in the hopes that Abby can hear you over everyone else. And she must have done, as her head slightly turns in your direction on instinct, and Norris’ gloved fist takes the opportunity to make contact with the side of her face in response.

The crowd screams with excitement, satisfied with the fact that something is finally happening. But all you see is red as the blood sprays from Abby’s mouth on impact, her body crashing into the ropes that barely keep her form upright. You take a step forward as does Coach, you both now waiting for the bell to ring so you can meet her at the post. 12 seconds.

Come on, just stay out of his way for a bit longer…avoid the fucker for 12 seconds!

Abby’s so stunned from that first punch that as she tries to right herself on the canvas and pick up her stance, Norris is already waiting with another blow to the face - this time an uppercut that sends her head flying back and her legs out from under her.

No no no no, NO!

5 seconds.

You’re screaming for her to get up as the crowd counts how long she’s been down.

1…2…3-

“Stand up! Abby stand the FUCK UP!”

A wave of an arm and a twitch of a leg has you screaming in relief, as Abby slowly gets back on her feet before a KO can be declared, just as the bell signals the end of the round.

Abby all but bolts for her corner, leaning her body and head back against the post - her eyes shut from exhaustion and pain. Coach partially moves out of the way for the cutman, who is trying to clean the blood from her face as best they can - the enswell pressing against the areas where Norris’ punches made impact.

You can see she’s starting to give up, that undeniable fire in her eyes has dulled to a mere glow. You can’t stand it. You try to move your head further into her corner to say “Baby, you can do this, you just gotta-”

Before you can finish, Coach has climbed through the ropes so he’s kneeling directly in front of Abby’s hunched figure, grabbing the back of her head so their foreheads are nearly touching.

“You listen to me Anderson. You’re jumping about this ring like a fuckin’ monkey on steroids. Calm the fuck down, focus in on the technique we’ve been working on for months and stop…getting…distracted.”

At this, both heads turn in your direction. Abby’s expression shows you she isn’t angry about being distracted from your support; she knew you were coming from a good place. Coach on the other hand is looking at you like you went up there and hit her yourself. He never liked when you were around, always insisting that partners were just unwanted emotional baggage that could wait until after the last punch was thrown. But Abby refuses to get in the ring if you aren’t watching from the sidelines.

“Not going out there without my girl, Coach - she’s my lucky charm.”

“Well your lucky charm has been making you late to training. Gotta get your head back to the task at hand. You can play housewives later.”

But tonight isn’t the night to bicker with Coach about things that won’t change. You will both always be here for Abby, and right now she needs you. You hold her gaze, giving a smile and a wink - “Are you seriously giving up this easy? You and me both know you’ve got it in you to bring this piece of shit down. Come on Abs…fucking finish it.”

Coach is clapping her shoulders in agreement, lifting Abby up so she can shake out the stiffness and get ready for the next round. What you hope to be the last round. You take your position back up in the crowd, and get ready to cheer for your, and her, life. The bell rings out.

Round 10.

____________

She makes every punch count, unleashing herself at Norris like a fucking beast. He doesn't know how to respond to it at first, taken aback at how quickly Abby has switched up her fighting style. The renewed vigour in her movements only enrages Norris even further, the confidence that this fight was his now starting to crack under the weight of Abby’s rage.

He still manages to land some blows, but it’s almost as if she’s stopped feeling them - blinded by the sheer animalistic instinct to push through and keep punching. A flurry of blows to Norris’ face causes him to hunch down and over for relief, but what he doesn't realise is that he’s just given her the perfect head shot from above.

The blow comes fast, and hard. You wince as her gloved fist makes impact with the back of his bent head, forcing his body further beneath her.

Norris goes down, face first into the canvas at Abby’s feet.

Knockout.

The volume of the crowd increases, if that’s even possible, counting along with the MC to ten to see if Norris has it in him to keep going. You’ve never been more relieved when he doesn't move a muscle.

8…9…10! KNOCKOUT!

You’re screaming, jumping with your arms in the air like a crazy person. She won. Abby won. The MC brings her to the centre of the ring, raising her arm with his to signal her victory. She’s shouting too, showing her black mouthguard mixed with the sight of fresh blood, unable to stand still as she takes a victor’s lap, celebrating her win.

Coach rushes up, gripping her in a bear tackle whilst you look on from the sidelines - still trying to come to terms with what you’ve just witnessed. She won. Against ‘Thunderstorm.’ This is what she’s been working towards for months, hoping for the chance to make her name known among the big leagues. Your girlfriend just put herself on the map, and it wasn’t about to go unnoticed…

____________

It takes a while for you all to make your way out of the stadium, fans constantly asking for autographs and pictures with the underdog-turned-champion of the night. It was nice to see. Finally, Abby was getting the recognition she deserves. Coach was eating that shit up, as expected, spreading the word to anyone that listened that we had a new heavyweight world champion in the making. Abby would get that glint in her eye at every mention of the ultimate title: world champion.

Her head might as well be made of glass, because you can see exactly what’s happening up in that brain of hers as she processes the weight of what’s happened tonight. She can see the prize that has never been in reach now that little bit closer. And she wants it. Bad. You go to remind her to take it one step at a time, but you know it would be received the wrong way.

A number of journalists and presenters were waiting by the entrance of the stadium as you emerged into the cold night. They rush you as soon as they spot Abby. You weren’t expecting so many people to come at you with cameras and microphones, reaching around, past, through you to get to her. A flurry of voices swarm the now enclosed space.

“Anderson, how do you feel after tonight’s knockout performance?”

“Who’s next on your kill list?”

“Are you staking your claim on the heavyweight belt?”

“How will you be celebrating tonight, Abby?”

Overwhelmed, you take a step back so Abby is ahead of you - Coach now placing his arm around her shoulders to also lean into the microphones held up against Abby’s mouth.

“The next fight is coming sooner than you think. Anderson is ready to take on any of these amateurs and claim the title that is rightfully hers.”

The interviewers all look to Abby expectantly, hoping she seconds the statements made. Of course she does. It’s Abby.

“I’m ready for the next fight. This is what I’ve been training for and I'm not going to slow down now. Put any fighter in front of me and I’ll deal a knockout to whoever wants one.”

You hear this and let out a long breath. This was the flaw that irked you most about Abby. She never knows when to take a break - to step back and appreciate how much she’s already achieved. Once she gets something, it’s on to the next. You just worry that she’s going to burn herself out.

As expected, her comment only invited them to ask more, now wanting to hear the name of the next person she wants to challenge and when that would be. Coach begins to move you all forward again, giving that cheshire smile he’s perfected and a sly “you’ll have to wait and see” - most likely aiming to leave some suspense in the air so more articles are printed tomorrow.

All three of you go to move through the reporters, making your way to a black SUV waiting just ahead. From where you took a step back, the crowd sees an opening and begins to slot themselves in between you and Abby, hot on her heels with more burning questions. When she turns her head to answer them, that signature smirk on her face is quickly replaced with alarm, then stone cold anger.

One reporter is physically elbowing you out of the way to get a better angle for his picture, the flash blinding you for a second, causing your head to snap the opposite direction.

You hear her voice ring out over everyone.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend and back away. Now.”

She pushes through until she’s in front of elbow-camera guy, who is currently regretting his choices now Abby is towering over him, his mouth slightly open with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Do you think it’s ok to treat a woman like that? Do you think you can push my woman out of the way and expect me to pose for a photo?”

He’s frozen to the spot, and Abby only raises her eyebrows in response. Taking your hand and pulling you to her side, she turns you both around after muttering “watch yourself” to the wimp you leave behind.

“Sorry baby” she whispers in your ear, thumb brushing down the side of your arm. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she leads you both through to the SUV and watches you get into the car before joining you. The voices now muffled; you finally release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in since the start of the night. She was fine. She’s safe. Everything’s ok again.

Now you finally have a chance to talk just the two of you - well, you and Abby and Coach - you want to make sure she isn’t serious about jumping straight into another fight. But when she turns to you, her eyes alight with pure happiness that you haven't seen in a long time, you decide to have that talk in the morning.

You have a champion to take home…

____________

The minute you get through the front door of your apartment, you’re leading her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She’s got that dazed look in her eyes of someone in a dream. Only this dream is real, and you couldn't be happier for her. But God, does she look rough. Hot, always, but rough.

“Did you see how fast he went down when I threw that last punch, bubs? I felt like my chest was going to explode during those 10 seconds, it felt like a lifetime to wait. I need to start thinking about my next move with Coach and strategizing ‘cos I could never use exactly the same technique, these fighters are way smarter than any of those fuckin’ rookies I’ve fought before and-”

“Woah, Abs slow down.” You give a slight chuckle as she realises her rambling, holding her hands up in defeat - allowing you to lightly push at her shoulders so she can sit on the toilet. You grab the first aid bag in the cabinet, packed with the essentials that have come in handy many times through the years. The cutman at every fight has of course offered to clean Abby up, but you always took it upon yourself to take care of her wounds at the end of the night. You both liked it that way. You were gentler, caring.

Getting down on your knees in front of her, you get to work wiping the dried blood from her face, placing cold packs and plasters over her swollen cheek and jaw. She sits there in silence, patiently watching you do it all - her hands trailing over your face, neck, arms.

“ ‘m sorry for not noticing you got left behind…don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I just get carried away with it all, ya know?” she mutters, cutting through the silence - cupping the side of your face with her hand as her fingers begin to brush through your hair. You close your eyes as you revel in the feel of it, nuzzling into her palm to give it a kiss.

“It wasn’t your fault, bubs. Besides, you came to my rescue in the end…like always” - you give another kiss to her open palm, reaching up to take her hand in both of yours so you can kiss her sore knuckles.

“Besides, it was kinda worth getting pushed just so I could see you make that guy absolutely shit himself.” You both burst out laughing, leaning in close to one another as if you were best friends sharing a secret. This was the Abby that only you saw. The one who didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, who could just be and not think about the next move.

You whisper, “I’m so proud of you,” and she almost begins glowing with pleasure from your praise.

Abby pulls you in by your face, hands back to cupping either side, eyes turning mischievous.

“I nearly forgot…I have one more thing I need to do tonight.”

You grin up at her, “oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She leans in further, her mouth stopping to hover just next to your ear, whispering “I need to fuck you like a champion.”

Her hand comes down to cup you through your jeans, squeezing ever so slightly. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this ever since they declared KO, getting wetter by the minute just thinking about the moment when she fucks you good and proper.

“Come on baby…time for round 1.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson fic #abby tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #i love abby anderson #tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x you

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brrrkdslek · 7 months

Text

UM O E O

𖡎 youtube clips of ateez member, m/n that has atinys barking and rolling on the floor.

𖡎 ateez x 9th member! male! reader

𖡎 fluff, angst, idk slay???

𖡎 bullying, harassment, blood n gore(oop)

𖡎 2.8k

clip 1 — m/n standing up for ateez on variety show

ateez along with the mcs laughed at the jokes as they continued, "if i were a member of ateez, what position would suit me best?" the members looked around and whispered amongst each other before hongjoong spoke up, "i don't know, but i think you'd do great..."

everyone laughs at the captain's statement as he shrinks in embarrassment. the mc puffs out his chest, "i think i'd be able to handle m/n's position." jongho blinks in surprise, "you can handle being main vocalist and main dancer...?" the other mc retaliated, "yeah, he thinks he can! what about it!?"

you only smile, knowing how much these people underestimate your hardwork. wooyoung speaks, "but his position is very hard, m/n actually plays a huge part in our choreography too!" wooyoung nudges you, "tell them!" you giggle at wooyoung's excitement.

"okay. so, when our tracks release, let's say for our comeback song, bouncy. i would improv it once and record it, then i would mark down some move which i think would collaborate well with the song, and then i'd work out the full choreo with the choreographer-"

the mc cut you off, "i still think i'd be able to do it though! maybe even better than you!" it came out in a joke tone but you could hear the underlying saltiness the man had with you, why's he so reluctant on bullying you???

you brush through your long hair before breaking the awkward silence, "well, who's position on the team do you agree with the least and why?" the mc perked up as he spoke loudly, "i think i would be the visual." mingi had to physically hold back a snort from beside you, "i honestly don't think seonghwa should be the visual at all."

wooyoung held back a gasp as san glared at the mc from afar. yunho turned to seonghwa and he only blinked in surprise, jongho gulped as he sees your vessel popping out in your neck, the tips of your ears turning slightly red.

"hm, i see. then who do you think would be best for visuals?" mingi placed his hand in your lap, comforting you quietly as you sighed. "i think, maybe me?" the mc does some weird 'sexy' pose and the other mc applauses him while your members keep quiet.

you let out a loud laugh for a second before covering your mouth with your hand, "ah, i'm sorry!" the mc's face was blank, "what, do you think i can't be the visual!?" you look the man up and down, "are you sure you'll even make it past the audition?" 'oo's' and laughs were exchanged between your members as you and the mc only stared.

clip 2 — m/n toktoq live: response to the show

you were eating peacefully in your hotel room with your live on and singing to the atinys every now and then. "m/n, did you say that to the mc because you were mad?" you read out a question. pondering for a few seconds, you decide to answer honestly.

"yes, i was super mad, more that he insulted my members." you slurped the noodled as you spoke again, "listen, i don't mind if people insult or make fun of me. but i won't accept if anyone speaks ill of my members." you untie your bun, which had been messed up from how much you'd been moving around.

biting the hairtie between your teeth, you used your hands to fix a ponytail and spoke, "i can take any insults if it is directed to me," picking up the hairtie, you tie your hair into a bun and fixed your bangs, "but please, leave my members alone."

clip 3 — m/n going off at a saseang in the airport

you had your hood and mask on as you followed along your members in the airport. you always hated the airport since the amount of people surrounding you made you feel incredibly claustrophobic and annoyed.

you had just came back to korea from your long concert and is headed back to the company. during the trip, you felt someone poke you and turned around, "hyung..." jongho's face looks slightly paler, "are you alright, jjong?" you held onto his hand as he leaned onto your strong arm, "just a bit tired..."

you ruffled his hair, "let's get outta here as soon as possible, m'kay?" jongho nods as you kiss his head, following your other members.

as you neared the exits, the group began slowing down as more people surrounded ateez and pushed the mangers and even the members from time to time. you tsked and checked on jongho every few seconds to make sure he is still there.

you noticed a woman pulling on the hems of jongho's hoodie as you swatted her away, pulling his closer to you as you squeezed between the members. however, she came back and kept on trying to get his attention, making him incredibly uncomfortable.

you could feel jongho's hands tremble and twitch with every touch of the woman and you got increasingly angered. you even did as much as wrapping your entire arm around his waist and leaned your head on his shoulder, you know jongho likes when you do that, it made him feel relaxed and calm.

but of course the woman didn't fucking stop as san and mingi were trying their best to kindly push her off and not cause scene. you heard jongho continuously mumbled for her to get off but you weren't having any of it. you were on your last straw when she began pulling on his wrist, that's when you acted out.

you let go of jongho's hand quickly and went to the other side and shoved the woman, hard. she ended up tripping on her own feet and collapsing onto the ground. you could care less for the cameras that were capturing this moment, in fact, you wanted everyone to see.

"yah! what's wrong with you!?" the woman spoke as she fixed her hair and tried standing up, you used your feet to push her shoulder back down. "what's wrong with me? are you kidding me, lady? you had been touching jongho this entire time and you're asking me what's wrong with me?"

you let out a sarcastic laugh, "who do you think you are? did you think i wouldn't do anything cause there are cameras?" your members and managers made no move to stop you as they only watched, all silently agreeing that it is what she deserved.

you crouched down and leaned into her ear, "if there were no cameras, i would've beat your fucking face off. now get lost before i actually do that." the woman shifted away from you and scrambled to get up, running away in a hurry as she cried.

you got up and grabbed your bag before going back to jongho and holding his hand, "let's go?" he nodded as the managers lead you all to the van, the crowd becoming smaller after your sudden outburst.

as you got into the van, you never let go of jongho's hand as he leaned onto your shoulder, eyes getting heavier. "i'm sorry jjong. you must've been so scared..." he smiled, "but i wasn't." you blink in surprise, "really, why not?" he looks up at you and flashed that adorable gummy smile of his, "cause i knew you'd protect me."

clip 4 — angry m/n at kcon

you were performing as normal and was super excited for your upcoming high note part. you had a few lines before it and while you were singing, you found that your mic had disconnected or some shit, making you grumpy.

however, atinys thought you were doing a sexy concept and cheered excitedly watching you sing your part. the mic had become more and more annoying as you sang your part, proving to be useless.

during the few seconds of pause before your high note, your ripped the headset off and threw it onto the ground before hitting the high note perfectly, wowing the atinys at your impactful volume even without a mic.

clip 5 — m/n shoving paparazzis for getting too close

ateez was in america, dressed all nice for their interview with buzzfeed, and as they got off the van one by one, the members were bombarded with cameras flashing in their direction. it wouldn't have been a problem had they not been at hand's distance with the members faces.

you were the last to get off the van as one paparazzi had the audacity to shove his camera inside the van while you were getting off. so, being the good samaritan you are, you shoved the camera.

you shoved it forward so that it hit the paparazzi on his bald head, making the man scream curses at you as you walked into the building, smile never leaving your face.

clip 6 — yunho vs m/n

"yeah, and i got this last week-" "why does your hair look like that?" you turn to yunho looking pretty offended, "why does my hair look like... what?" yunho giggles, "like, like poo..." you deadpan to the camera before rolling your eyes, "why does my hair matter to you in the slightest bit?" he shrugs and bites into the dumpling.

"i dunno, i jus' think it looks better when it's down." you leaned down to slurp your noodles, "better than your crap coloured hair..." yunho's jaw drops as he tosses the wooden chopsticks on the table and stands up, "yah!"

you turn to him and look up, "why're you standing up??" he pouts, "my hair is NOT crap colour!" your forehead creases, "can you just sit down-" "at least i don't spend two hours every morning getting ready." you frown and stand up, growing more annoyed by the second.

"why're you picking a fight with me?" he rolls his eyes and cross his arms, mumbling something. "what'd you say?" looking down, yunho mumbles, "i'm not the one that throws headsets on stage..."

you had to blink a few times to process what he had said. "jeong yunho," the man stiffens and turns to you, "...what?" you stared at the man with the angry glare, making him shiver. "sit down right now and eat your food." as if on impulse, yunho's knees buckle and he plops back onto the armchair.

you side-eyed yunho for a few seconds before turning to the camera, with a large grin like you weren't just about to detached yunho's head from his body, "okay atinys, i think we have to cut the live short! have a good day!"

clip 7 — m/n noona revealed!

mingi bounced excitedly as he sat on the chair and waited for his questions, "has there been a time where your members has stood up for you?" mingi's eyes widen as he smiles, "yes!" he answers loudly.

"there was this time during a fansign when i was feeling really sick, m/n hyung noticed and tried to tell the staff but they wouldn't let me leave. i get it, cause they thought it would've been disrespectful and i told him that!

but he got so angry and only told me to take care of myself before he went back to the atinys. afterwards, he yelled and screamed at the managers!" mingi giggled, "it was really funny seeing them all just looking down like toddlers being scolded by their parents. i'm so grateful for m/n hyung!"

the other members including yourself smiles and giggled at the back as wooyoung spoke up, "you mean m/n noona?" you swatted the back of wooyoung's head as he only giggled, "that sounds so good!" mingi turned to look at wooyoung.

"right!?" "m/n noona!" jongho laughed, "m/n noona!" he leaned onto your shoulder as you only huffed, the rest of the members including hongjoong and seonghwa hyung also started calling you that.

clip 8 — fansign massacre!

it was a sunny day when ateez were in la, california for their fansign. hongjoong had asked the managers a few times for them not to do a fansign in such an area since america was a dangerous place as they could get stabbed and shot at any moment. however, the managers persisted.

the members were lined up in their seats in the order of their ages, with m/n squeezed between hongjoong and yunho. the venue was crowded with many atinys waving and screaming the member's names.

as the atinys sat in their designated seats, the fansign started. you were enthusiastic with a happy grin painting your face the entire time at all the pretty girls and boys that dressed up prettily to see you, it made your heart swell with pride.

suddenly, hongjoong leaned into your ear and whispered, "this one's sketchy, watch them closely." you blink in confusion before the next fan shifts in front of you.

you immediately get the memo as the person- you can't even tell the gender as their face was covered up with a mask and hoodie. you force a smile as you tried to bring up some conversation, "so, uh... how long have you been a fan?"

"i'm not," your eyes widen, "how long is each member?" you were shocked as it took you a second to respond, "f-five minutes." afterwards, you and the person only stared at each other before the time ran out.

you suddenly got a feeling in your gut something bad was about to happen. you were constantly turning to yunho who was on your left conversing with said person. why were they being so friendly with yunho only?

"are you alright?" the atiny asked as you brushed some sweat from your forehead and focused back on the fan, but making sure to keep an eye on yunho.

as the timer ran out, the atinys shifted seats again but the person never moved from in front of yunho. you felt your heart rate increased as the person stayed unmoving, the staff were already on high alert of this person after seonghwa's turn.

yunho's eyes widen in fear as the person abruptly pulled out a dagger and stood up, leaning forward to graze yunho. yunho leaned backwards, closing his eyes as yeosang reaching out to stop the person, everything was moving too quickly as m/n instinctively reached out.

yunho cracked his eyes open as he fell backwards onto his butt at the sight in front of him; you holding the dagger with your bare hand, gripping it so hard your veins were visible on your forearm. wooyoung almost threw up at the sight of your blood running down your arm.

everyone around you was panicked including the person as the crowd screamed and pushed around each other, but your face was stern. you stared straight into the person with half-lidded eyes, showing no sign of emotions even though your hand was burning from pain.

no one dared to move, not even the members or managers as you slowly spoke in english, "what," your eyebrows creased, "do you think you're doing?" your grip tightened as the person's grip on the handle loosened, stumbling backwards as he fell.

the staff immediately emerged from the shadows and pinned down the person, making sure to call the police. you violently threw the dagger onto the ground, making everyone jump as you wiped your bloody hand on your white tank top, eyes never leaving the attackers.

you squatted down and pulled their hoodie down, "if i see your face again," grabbing a fistful of their hair, you yanked the person so close your noses almost touched. they yelped in pain and gripped your wrist, "i'll kill you with this damn knife, got it?"

the person began to cry as you shoved their face away, grimacing as the staff dragged the person backstage. the manager came to you with first-aid and asked if you were okay. you brushed them off as you jogged to yunho, who was still sat on the ground.

you cup his cheeks in your hand as you turn his head left and right, "yun! are you okay? are you hurt?" yunho's eyes watered as his bottom lip quivered, "ah- i got blood on your cheek," you pulled your right hand away and wiped the blood with the back of your hand.

yunho stopped your movement and held onto your wrist, pulling his head into your chest as he silently sobbed, mumbling 'sorry's' and 'it's my fault's'. you kissed his head and patted his back, "no, i'm sorry i was a second too late."

©BRRRKDSLEK 2023

#brrrkdslek 📁: oneshots #brrrkdslek 🖇️: 9th member m/n #lmao im weirdly turned on #lmk if u guys want more of this genre!!!#leave reqs!#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #9th member of ateez

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dilvuc · 7 months

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『TWO HOUSEWARENS, ONE IDIOT』

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: comedy

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: male

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: two housewarens, one idiot

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: idia x m!reader x malleus

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: you're from the scarabia dorm, kind, gently, also…dense, but that doesn't stop two housewarens from having a crush on you.

The flame blue haired male peaks around the corner with his little brother watching you hanging out with Kalim. The tips of his hair turned pink as he listened to the melody of your laughter.

"...S-should I…tell him my feelings…?" Idia whispered to himself. "But he's so dense like every boring MC in anime, tho, [Y] is different…"

The Ignihyde housewaren plopped down on the floor and hid himself with his hood to cover his red face, "What can I do? What can I do? Could I just walk up to him and confess? Can I do it?"

"You can do it, oniichan! I know you can!" Ortho cheers for his brother. Idia smiles timidly, feeling motivated by his little brother, "Y-you're right. I can do it! I know I can—"

"Hey, Idia." You greeted the male, causing him to let out a high-pitched scream. You chuckled, "I saw your hair around the corner, so I thought I could check on you."

"[Y]! Oniichan has something important to tell you!" Ortho beamed. "Right?"

"I-I-I-I-I…" Idia stammered with his face steaming like a kettle.

"Idia…?" You tilted your head. The flame blue haired male whines then runs away with full speed, "I'm sorry, I can't!!!!!!!"

"O-oniichan!" Ortho called out for his brother before turning to you and apologized, "Sorry, [Y]! Bye-bye!"

"???" You watch as the Shroud brothers run away, bewildered on why Idia was turning red. Is he sick? Does he need to go to the clinic to rest? Whatever it is, you will never know.

"Odd…why did he run away…?" You wondered to yourself.

"...It may be oblivious that he likes you." Jamil mentioned. You tilted your head, "Like a friend, right? Cuz' I like him too. As a friend."

The tan skinned male facepalm. You and Kalim are almost the same, but you're denser than he ever was. You're gonna need to understand more. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need to apologize to Kalim for this one."

"Eh?"

"You're intelligent." Jamil stated. "However your stupidity is at an even higher level when it comes to love."

"H-hey…Your compliment suddenly turned into an insult…" you sweatdropped.

"[Y]." A deep voice startled the both of you, swiftly turning your attention to the Diasomnia housewaren, Malleus.

"S-sir Malleus." Jamil shuddered.

"Hey, Mal. What brings you here?" You greeted the raven haired male. Jamil turned to you in shock and nudge you with his elbow, "Don't address him by that nickname."

"Why?"

"Don't you know…?"

"I know, but why do we need to address him as Sir Malleus?"

Malleus chuckles at the conversation between you and Jamil, turning your attention to him, "No need, Viper. I'm fine with him calling me by that nickname, but I've come here to discuss important matters with you, [Y]."

Malleus glanced over your shoulder where Lilia, Sebek, and Silver(who's asleep), cheering for him. The raven haired male fiddling his thumbs timidly, trying to think of how to confess, but failed, "Nevermind…"

"Eh?" You and Jamil hummed in question as Malleus disappeared, leaving behind green fireflies. The Diasomnia students ran past you and Jamil to find the raven haired male. Sebek stopped and pointed his finger at you, "You're no match for Malleus-sama, human! Remember that!"

"I'm so confused why Idia and Malleus would run away from me. Did I do something wrong?" You scratch the back of your head.

The tan skinned male tries to progress on what's going on here. Not until his brain finally made progress. "N-no way…Don't tell me they have a crush on [Y]!"

"Heh? Why are you looking at me like that?" You sweatdropped.

twst masterlist

rules

#male reader #top male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst #twisted wonderland #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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jasonswh0rre · 2 months

Text

My Guideline to Writing ✍🏽

1. NSFW Content: While I occasionally explore NSFW themes, my content leans towards the vanilla side. Any story I write that is NSFW will be labeled as 18+.

2. Smut Writing: Despite my username, I tend to steer away from explicit smut writing. I am open to oral r + g or 🖐🏽jobs but beyond that I am not really comfortable with writing. I mainly prefer more fluff, mature and angst based writing.

3. Canon Ships: I'm open to writing about already established canon ships, but if there's a particular pairing you'd like to see explored, don't hesitate to ask! I'm always open to new ideas and interpretations.

4. I prefer to write from the perspective of a main character (MC) rather than using the "reader" format. I have tried writing using reader but it's confusing for me, I am familiar with "y/n" but considering the history of that word in my days of reading fanfics I don't use that format either.

5. As a black writer, I value diversity and aim to reflect this in my stories. You'll find characters of various races and ethnicities in my masterlist, including Black MCs, White MCs, Latina MCs, Asian MCs, and Middle Eastern MCs. Authentic representation is important to me, and I try to strive for accurate portrayals of people from different backgrounds respectfully.

6. I'm relatively new to posting on Tumblr, and I have a life outside of the internet. Your patience and understanding are greatly appreciated as I navigate this platform and find my footing.

Thank you very much for your likes, shares, and comments! ✍🏽💫🩷

#arkham batman #arkham knight #jason todd #jasonswh0rre #writers on tumblr #my guidelines #red hood #red hood x MC

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blueraineshadows · 11 months

Text

Stay ❤️

Garreth Weasley x F!MC ❤️🌶 🔞 NSFW

Happy Weasley Wednesday 🦁❤️

The rain pattered consistently from a leaden sky that was darkening into night. MC shivered and held her sodden cloak even closer around her shoulders. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, coating it in blood mixed with rain water. The cut on her eyebrow was still dribbling, blending with the rain to give the illusion of bloody tear streaks on her cheek.

Coming across the troll had been an accident. Her refusal to back down from a fight was entirely her own fault. Still, she was alive, and the troll was not. It was a win.

MC sighed. Maybe she was getting too old for this shit. Mid-twenties and still thinking she was a scampering teen. She ached and was hungry, cold and alone. The last one was the kicker. She was always alone. Again, something she only had herself to blame for. She had the unfortunate habit of pushing away people who cared for her.

Physical wounds healed. Emotional ones were terrifying, and they were harder to soothe.

Her boots splashed through puddles as she scurried along in the rain, her destination one that was a surprise given the later hour. Liar. Merlin, she couldn't even admit the truth to herself.

She opened the little wooden gate to the stone cottage and slowed as she reached the wooden porch. The green front door loomed before her, picture perfect against the backdrop of stone walls and lead paned windows, warm inviting light glowing from within.

Of course she was here. Isn't this where she always ended up when the lonely part of her ached so fiercely that her feet just brought her right to this door, and the man who lived behind it.

She knocked. Rain dripped from the hood of her cloak and the end of her nose. She brushed sopping tendrils of hair back from her face, although any attempt to look pretty was useless against the blood and rain.

The door swung open and there he was, Garreth Weasley, dressed in dark trousers and a maroon woollen jumper, his hair a chaotic tumble of red curls about his handsome face. Some of the tension was already slipping from her taut frame at the warmth and safety he exuded. She ached for it.

He peered out in to the gloom at her, his eyes widening in alarm as he took in her drenched, beat up state. "Merlin, MC," he said. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, fingers gently gripping her soaked cloak. "You're soaked! Get in here...come in and get warm."

She smiled gratefully and stepped across the threshold, his scent wafting tantalisingly under her nose as she passed him. His hands were already helping to remove the cloak, rain water dripping from her to soak his neatly swept floor.

"Your rug," she protested, glancing down. A violent shiver racked her and she folded her arms tightly about herself.

"No matter," he said, eyeing her. "Let's get your wet things off. Come on, I will find you something dry to put on. And then you can fill me in on why you're out in the rain adorned with cuts and bruises."

Relief washed over her. He didn't push for answers, just fussed over her, bringing her a towel and soft dressing robe. Tea was brewing in the pot and he had her sit near the fire, rubbing her frozen hands between his large warm ones.

She watched him through her lashes and lingering glances as he took care of her, admiring the line of his jaw, harder and even more handsome than their school days. There was some scruff growth there as though he hadn't shaved for a couple of days. She quite liked it and wondered how it would feel under her fingers.

Green eyes lifted to meet hers, and she tried to make it look like she wasn't staring, noting the way the corner of his mouth lifted into an amused smirk. "See something you like?" He winked. "Or, do I have something on my face? Oh gods, I havent got a troll sized bogey hanging off my nose have I?"

She huffed a small laugh, her gaze returning to his. His smile was warm, teasing, and her tummy did a somersault. Her hand moved without a second thought and scratched curious finger tips against his jaw along the scruff. "This is new," she said. "Are you growing a beard?"

Oh gods, the scratch of hair under her fingers sent spirals of flame up her arm. She felt her cheeks warming and withdrew her hand, squeezing it into a little fist in her lap. Her eyes however, they were trapped in a stare with his, and she found it difficult to swallow at the way he was looking at her. It was a stretched out few seconds as her heart flexed under the idea that he shared this shockingly fierce fire she felt.

Every time she was near him, this fire seemed to grow and consume her. It drew her back here again and again, any excuse to be in his company, and each time she would get overwhelmed by this need for him.

Inevitably, her fear would talk her out of trying to claim any of it, to reach out and risk the burn, and then she would leave. It was always a wrench to be parted from him, and yet she always left.

She kept coming back, though. Deep inside she feared the day that she would come and there would be another witch here, someone who had been brave enough to embrace his warmth for her own. When that day came, she feared she might shrivel to nothing, cold and empty.

She lowered her gaze from his and looked to the flickering dance of fire in his grate instead. Coward.

"Let me get something for that cut on your eyebrow," he said.

She let him touch her face as he cleaned up her wound, his fingers gentle, her gaze drawn to him despite turning away from him just now. Up close like this, she could almost count the smattering of freckles over his nose, she watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed or spoke. And, helplessly, she stared at his mouth, wondering if those lips were as soft as they looked.

"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that," he murmured.

Her eyes flew to his, surprised. "What...look at you like what?"

He gave her a look suggesting she knew perfectly well what sort of way she had been staring, and heat flooded her cheeks. She squirmed a little in her chair.

"It's very distracting," he said. "Now, keep still. I'm almost done patching you up."

She felt the need to change the subject, lighten the mood. "You should see the other guy," she smirked. "Not much left to patch up."

His look was one of worry rather than humour. "I can well imagine," he said. His hand stilled before moving lower to her cheek. His thumb grazed along her cheekbone, the barest touch, and her pulse flickered and sped up. His gaze was intent, and she could hardly breathe.

"It scares me you know, the way you get into these scrapes. I'm worried that one day, you won't come knocking on my door anymore, and I will never see you again. Every time I patch you up, I'm scared it will be the last."

Well, fuck! So much for trying to lighten the mood. She stared at him, her feelings a blistering whirlwind in her chest. Her hand gently touched the back of his, fingers moving to grasp his wrist.

Kiss him you idiot! He is literally right there, and if that wasn't a confession of caring about you, then what else was it?

But what then? They kiss? He carries her into the bedroom? Gods, the very thought of it makes her thighs clench something fierce. She is so starved for it that she leans forward, just a fraction. She can almost taste the sweetness of that first kiss...

But then her stupid, stupid brain starts flinging doubts at her. What if its a mistake? What if it ruins this special friendship they have? Losing that would cripple her, its the brightest thing in her life, the loss would be intolerable to bear.

And, he had said himself. He worries for her, doesn't like how she jumps into danger without a second thought. But, that's who she is. Give her a fight to face down any day of the week, and she is right there, wand in hand, ready to kick some ass.

But putting her soft, stupid heart out there with the potential for it to shatter. Nope. Up slam the walls.

"Don't worry about me, Garreth," she said, attempting a lighthearted smile. She moved his hand away from her face, stroking the back of it to ease the rejection of his touch. "I'm tougher than I look. And, I am getting better at trying to avoid trouble. It just seems to find me sometimes, that's all. I'll be okay."

His smile was not very successful at hiding the disappointment clouding his eyes. She felt it like a club to the chest. Why was she so good at shoving people away?

He still made her some food though, and the conversation turned to lighter chatter as they ate. Her hair was drying out, his dressing robe cosy and warm against her bare flesh. Colour returned to her cheeks and she stifled a yawn.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your evening," she said. "Maybe I should get out from under your feet."

He looked at her. "Stay," he said. He nodded towards the stairs. "You can take the bed. Stay and get a decent night's sleep somewhere safe. I can take the settee for the night."

"You've already done so much..." She began to protest.

He held his hands up. "And you can let me do more," he said, firmly. "You look tired, and you're thinner than the last time I saw you. Let me take care of you, please. At least for tonight. Sleep, rest and you can be on your way after a proper Weasley breakfast in the morning. Deal?"

His gaze was firm. She opened her mouth to protest again and he pointed a finger at her. "Don't make me use my wand, MC," he warned. Mischief glittered in those green eyes. "Don't think I won't. I'm not above making you stay here. Who knows? Maybe I've already slipped a few drops of sleeping draught in your tea."

She eyed her mug suspiciously and he chuckled. "I haven't, but don't tempt me."

A smile tugged at her lips. Playful Garreth was much easier than intense Garreth. "Next you'll have me tied to the bed post with no escape."

Immediately she flushed. The image of it a lot more sinful in her head than she intended the joke to sound. She watched his own cheeks redden, his eyes widened, but he recovered quickly.

"You need only ask," he said. His cheeky wink nearly tipped her over an edge she had been deliberately avoiding.

He got up, collecting their plates to take to the sink. "I'll get you something to sleep in once I've cleared up," he said.

"Let me help," she said. Her voice sounded strained and she needed a distraction from the throbbing need that was starting to consume her.

Part of her fancied testing him. If she tried to make a run for it, would he drag her back and tie her up, or would she really have to ask? Fucking hell, would she ask? Did she want that?

They washed the dishes and he went upstairs, her trailing behind him. He opened a chest and rummaged around, digging out a Gryffindor Quidditch shirt with a cheeky grin. "Fancy sleeping in this?"

She smiled and took the soft cotton shirt from him. "I remember you wearing this," she said. She pressed it to her cheek without thinking. "Wow, this takes me back."

"Makes you wish you could go back, doesn't it?" He said, wistfully. He tugged gently on a lock of her now dry hair. "At least I knew where you were every night back then."

Her breath caught in her throat. Did that mean he thought about her at night back then? Her heart sped up and she clutched the shirt in her hands. An overwhelming urge to feel him swept over her and she pulled him close for a hug.

"I don't deserve you Garreth Weasley," she said. "You've been an amazing friend to me. I wish I could say the same about myself, but I'm afraid I'm rather rubbish at it, aren't I? You're too good for me."

His arms held her about the waist and it felt safe. Warm. It felt like she belonged there if she was being brutally honest. Her head nestled against his chest and she sighed. "I will try to be better," she promised. "I owe you for everything you've ever done for me."

"You owe me nothing," he said into her hair. "I do it because I want to."

Her heart thudded against her ribs, thudded against him. If only she was brave enough to give it to him.

She slipped from his embrace, her eyes skipping shyly from his. "Thank you."

He nodded, looking down. "If you need anything else, just give me a shout. I'll just be downstairs," he said. He moved for the staircase, paused and looked back. "Goodnight, MC."

"Goodnight," she whispered.

....*....

Sleep was a distant dream far out of reach. MC lay under the blankets in Garreth's bed listening to the rain tapping against the glass of the window. Overwhelmed by the scent of him on the sheets, wrapped in his blankets, wearing his Quidditch top, and the man himself at the bottom of the staircase - it was slowly driving her towards the edge of her restraint.

Her body was coiled like a spring, desire was a wicked temptress tugging in all the right places, and she rolled over for about the millionth time. She eyed the top of the stairs. It was dimly lit below by the last dying embers of his fire. She wondered if Garreth was asleep, and tried to picture his tall frame sprawled along his settee. There was no way that was comfortable, and she felt bad for kicking him out of his own bed.

Yeah, thats the reason she was considering getting up for, and telling him to come up here.

MC sat up, pushing her hair back from her face and sighed. No, she couldn't. He might reject her. She lay back down. She smoothed a hand across a pillow. His pillow. She buried her face into it. Hugged it to herself.

Oh, fuck!

Blankets thrown back, her bare feet hit the floorboards and she padded quietly to the stairs. Wearing nothing but his Quiddtich shirt, she descended the steps into the room below.

He was indeed sprawled along the sofa, and it definitely didn't look comfortable. She paused at the bottom of the steps, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs. It was utterly scandalous and very arousing.

He twisted his head up, eyes blinking sleepily. "MC...everything okay? Can I get you anything?"

Her lips twitched upwards. He was always taking care of her. She moved away from the stairs and into his line of vision. He sat up, pushing his hair back from his face. In the dim glow of the dying fire, his eyes glittered. She could see the way his gaze travelled slowly down over her as he swung his legs around to sit up properly. He slowed to a stop, his lips parting a little at the sight of her bare legs.

"Um...you erm..." He fluffed his hair again and blew air through his lips. "Blimey, MC. That's quite a sight."

She tilted her head, fingers brushing nervously against her thigh. "Good sight or not so good?" She teased.

"Good, definitely good," he said, nodding. He was staring, his hands fidgeting.

MC stepped closer towards him and he visibly swallowed. He looked nervous and it was quite arousing. It made her feel a bit bolder. She took hold of one of his hands and put it on the outside of her thigh. "Gods," he whispered.

She was breathing a little faster, desire pooling thick and fast at the feel of his hand there. His touch was feather light, gentle, as he swept the pad of his thumb against her leg. She nudged his hand, sliding it a little higher until it was right at the hem of the shirt. Having his hand so close to where she ached for him was excruciating.

He watched her do it, a shaky sigh leaving his mouth and then he looked up at her. She met his gaze and smiled, wanting him to know that she was okay with this. It was what she wanted. He slid his hand up higher, his warm palm gliding up to her hip, their gazes locked on each other until he gasped. "What the...bloody hell, MC! You're...you're naked under there!"

She chuckled and flashed the hem of the shirt upwards quickly. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh, fuck," he hissed.

Pressing him back into the sofa, she climbed onto his lap, knees straddling his hips. He immediately took her hips into his grasp, his breaths ragged as she settled. She braced her hands on his shoulders and sought his lips, hungry to taste him.

He uttered a low moan at her kiss, his grip on her hips tightening. Her name fell from his lips in a cherished whisper as she pressed soft kisses across them. Soft, perfectly soft, and very, very kissable lips.

"Do you want me?" She asked, softly.

He groaned. "Yes, yes, I do," he said. He pulled her against his lap, urging her to feel just how much. She rolled her hips, grinding against him and his head tilted back, his eyes squeezing shut. "Oh, gods. Yes, I want you."

Deep kisses, the kind that made your toes curl, tongues sliding and swirling, drawing moans and gasping breaths from each other. MC savoured the feel of his hair between her fingers, tugging it so that his head was tilted back for the perfect kissing angle.

His hands slid up to her waist, taking the shirt with him. He broke the kiss to look down, biting his lower lip. "You look so fucking sexy in this shirt," he groaned. He gripped the fabric tightly. "I'm almost tempted to make you keep it on."

She grinned. "I could do that."

"Hmm, well then I won't be able to get a good look at these," he said. He slid his hands up under the shirt to cup her breasts, palming them eagerly, his thumb and forefinger pinching playfully at her nipples. He groaned and shoved the front of the shirt up. "Gods, gimme a bite."

Delighted laughter fell from her lips as he took a peak into his mouth, sucking firmly, his tongue teasing before he bit gently into the tender flesh. Her hand gripped at his hair, her breath hissing through her teeth. He moaned appreciatively, his hands moulding both breasts again. "Delicious," he said, licking his lips.

Desperate to feel more of his skin, MC tugged impatiently at his shirt, so busy concentrating on his buttons that when he slid his fingers playfully through her slick folds she cried out, her hips flexing instinctively.

He chuckled. "Liked that did you? Do you like this?" He swirled his fingers up and around, spreading her slick over her clit. She forgot about his buttons for a moment, her forehead leaning against his as his fingers worked up a tight little rhythm. She moaned, rocking against his precise touch. "Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me it feels good."

"Y...yes," she whispered. She was lost in the sensation of his fingers, and when he slid one inside, shifting his hand to rub and fuck, she gripped at his chest. "Fuck, yes!"

"Yes, that's it, moan for me. I want to hear you," he said. The low, demanding tone of his voice was sending white hot flares of heat along the edge of her control. He added a second finger, curling them so perfectly that she was gritting her teeth. She rutted shamelessly against his hand, losing herself in his touch.

"Garreth," she gasped. Fisting her hands in his half undone shirt she moaned desperately, shuddering and grinding until she was clenching tightly around his fingers, all the pent up ache releasing in a wave of fire.

He groaned and looked at his hand, his fingers. "Fucking hell, that was hot," he murmured. He then put his fingers in his mouth and sucked. Her mouth fell open in shock.

Something extremely feral exploded inside her. Her hands were greedy and grabby as she yanked at his shirt. He yelped in surprise as buttons pinged loose and clattered onto the floor.

"Whoa..." He cried. She was tugging his trousers open and shoving them off his hips.

"Help me out here, Garreth," she panted. "I wanna fuck you senseless."

The sound he made was like a delighted, shocked laugh, and then he was pushing his trousers and underwear down, she knelt up to get out of his way. And then he was burying his face into her stomach, his head disappearing under the shirt to run his tongue along her heated skin.

She felt the silky hardness of his arousal against her thigh and reached for it, he groaned, looking down to watch as she fisted her hand and worked on him. "Oh, fuck yes," he groaned.

She lined him up, pressing kisses to his face, and sighing in relief as she slid down onto him. She lifted and rolled her hips a little, adjusting to the deeply satisfying size of him. "Garreth, that feels...oh gods...you feel amazing," she said.

She had him as deep as she could get him, her legs widening further, greedy for it all. He held her tightly against him, his head leaning against her, looking down at where they were joined.

"Give me a minute," he said, tightly.

She slid her hands through his hair. "Are you alright?"

"Brilliant," he said. "I just want to savour this for a moment before I lose my fucking mind."

She giggled, the movement making her walls flex around him and he groaned, his hands tightened on her waist. "Oh, shit, don't laugh," he said.

She smirked and clenched her walls around him, teasing him.

"You little minx," he moaned.

She tilted his head back, and she kissed him, tasting his mouth slow and sensual. She whispered against his lips. "What, no teasing jokes, Weasley? Isn't that your specialty?"

She gave a gentle roll of her hips and savoured the look of pleasure on his face, the low moan he gave her. She wanted to make him feel good, she wanted all of it. His hands slid round to cup her backside, squeezing her gently.

"You want jokes?" He said. He screwed up his brow, trying to think as she rolled her hips again and he swore under his breath. "How about this then...oh gods...how about I teach you a new spell?"

She bit down on his lower lip, riding him slow and teasingly. "A new spell?"

He smirked. "Mm, yeah, the one where you make my cum disappear."

MC stilled, processing what he just said. She looked down at him. He had the most ridiculous grin on his face. He was too much. A snort of laughter left her lips, more laughter bubbling up her throat, the force of it making his arousal slip from her. He groaned at the sensation as his own laughter tumbled from him.

She clung to him, giggling, a burst of warmth and happiness wrapping around her like a glow. He was an unbelievable goof, utterly adorable and the light of her life. "Bloody hell, Weasley," she giggled. "I fucking love you."

They both froze, their laughter slipping away. She almost gulped and looked down at him. "Um...I..." She stuttered, a blush flooding her face.

"Please tell me you meant that," he whispered. His eyes were wide, strained.

Her heart thundered in her chest. She smoothed his hair back from his face and swallowed back the sudden burn of tears that were gathering. She nodded. She really loved him. "I meant it," she said. A tear escaped and slid down her cheek. "You have my heart."

She gasped as he crushed her against him, his breaths quick and hot. "I love you, too," he said, fiercely.

....*....

The rain had stopped and weak morning sunlight was creeping up and in through the bedroom window. MC stirred, the reassuring weight of a freckled arm about her waist. She smoothed her hand along it, snuggling back even closer against his nakedness.

She loved Garreth Weasley. The truth of it overwhelming but so right now that it was out in the open.

She smiled sleepily as she felt warm kisses on the back of her neck. He shifted to press more to her shoulder, his hand sneaking up to give her breast a playful squeeze. "Mmm, hello," he mumbled against her neck. "Gods, I love these."

She giggled and twisted around to look up at him. He kissed her. "Good morning," he whispered.

She traced his mouth with her finger. "I believe you promised me a Weasley breakfast this morning," she said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Hungry are you?" He nipped at her finger.

She slid a hand down, teasing her fingers over his hip and down his thigh and nodded. "I am, but I quite like the idea of a different kind of Weasley breakfast...if you get me."

"Oh, I get you," he said. He pulled her hips in nice and close. "Trust me, you will not be moving far from this bed for the foreseeable."

She smiled and kissed his nose. "You won't even have to tie me up to keep me here...not unless you want to, of course."

The look in his eyes stole her breath. "That could most certainly be arranged."

She forgot about her hunger, and the promise of breakfast. Who cared about food when he was kissing her like this?

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #mc x garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #weasley wednesday #blueraineshadows

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leanderfields · 11 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: No song lasts forever. Not even a sparrow’s.

C/W: Ais x gn!reader, reader is MC with the curse and all, angst/tragedy- it’s fluffy until it’s not, a few innuendos if you squint, Leander makes an appearance, so does Princess and Vere, spoilers for the red choice in Ais’s demo route, mentions of blood, mild depictions of violence (more like the aftermath; I personally think it’s minor but just in case), written before the full game has been released so some creative liberties were taken when writing about Hightown and the Amaryllis District, more or less my rendition of an early bad ending for Ais, largely inspired by Enna Alouette's Wish of this Songbird

A/N: When you blog is Leander themed, but your first official post is about Ais and it's angst... haha whoops ─=≡Σᕕ(σ‿‿σ)ᕗ

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drip.

Ais took yet another drag on his cigarette, exhaling with an indolent puff of smoke. This one looks like Princess, he thought. The Soulless let out a reverberating purr on his lap.

“You think so too, huh?” he grinned, scratching the top of her head. The other hand crushed the butt of the cigarette beneath his heel. That was enough of playing with smoke for now. Any more then he would have to make a trip to Lowtown before the sun sets. Bars weren’t fun during the day, but the streets were livelier according to a certain mage. The idea of running into familiar faces while taking a leisurely stroll didn’t seem that bad either.

Ais drove the cigarette butt deeper into his heel. Well, it’s not like he could leave right now.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Pant. Pant.

Princess sprung off his lap, wooden panels creaking as she bounced towards the Seaspring’s entrance. Her tail swayed back and forth and her tendrils followed in suit. Ais reached for an extra floor pillow. Must be someone she liked.

“Ais! Are you home?” a cheery voice chirped between Princess’s purrs.

The demon smirked, hoisting himself up the rafters. He shifted into a comfortable position and propped his head onto the back of his hand. The beams rasped under his weight. His crimson eyes flickered to his Soulless pet who was quick to follow his trail, leading a cloaked figure to a tea set in between two hastily arranged floor pillows.

“Ais! I know you’re home!”

Princess gave him an eager stare. He put a finger to his lips and tossed the Soulless a treat from up above, one she happily scarfed down.

“Ai–”

“You should try looking up more, sparrow.”

“Well, hosts usually don’t greet guests from up above,” you said, pulling your hood down to meet his gaze, revealing bright eyes full of wonder and hope. Eyes that bored into his blood-red, piercing orbs. Ais saw them one too many times before they were engulfed by the same crimson that colored these eerily still waters.

“Who said you’re my guest?”

“If I recall, your exact words were ‘you know where to find me.’” You crossed your arms.

Ais sighed and jumped off the rickety rafter. The wood creaked beneath his feet and the waters rippled across the spring as he towered over you. His lips were on the verge of smiling.

“Still not my guest though.”

“Even if I made a decision?”

“Even if you made a decision,” he flashed his fangs at you with a grin. You rolled your eyes and took a seat on one of the floor pillows. Princess trotted over to your side. Her tail continued to wag while you hummed a sweet song, pouring tea into two cups. Someone’s in a good mood. You were fairly relaxed despite dubbing the Seaspring as “the creepiest place in the world”.

“So what’s your verdict?” he asked.

“The tea is oversteeped,” you quipped, handing him a cup.

“That’s no way to treat a host,” Ais said, taking a generous sip of the moderately oversteeped tea.

“I thought I wasn’t a guest?”

Ais glanced at his cup, the floor pillows and the Soulless who seemed to enjoy your company more than his. He crouched down, meeting you at eye level. You flinched the moment his fingers made contact with your forehead. “You also thought I was a host.”

“Resorting to violence, already?” you giggled, rubbing your forehead. It differed from the crude laugh you let out when he told you about Ocudeus. This laugh was an endearing sing-songed melody that filled the empty spring with the same wonder and hope in your eyes. Ais’s own eyes lingered on the distinctly pink area of your skin.

“Answer the question, sparrow.”

Your laughter halted. The mirth fell from your face as quickly as it came. You coughed and cleared your throat, “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”

“Said a lot of things last night,” Ais said dryly. He made three bad impressions during your first encounter. Many things had gone awry last night at the Wet Wick. Would that be the fourth or fifth bad impression he’s made since meeting you? It was an average bar brawl for him, but not for a newcomer as soft as you were. He flexed his bandaged hand. Well, maybe you weren’t that soft.

“The thing you said about my curse… ‘Is the thought of living with it so unbearable?’”

“What about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about the things you said after that,” you paused to glance at him, but your eyes were quick to retreat back to your twiddled thumbs, “I’ve survived this far with it… but I don’t want others to suffer because of my curse.”

Ais’s lips morph into a visible frown, “So you want to take a drink.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Implied it.”

“I… want to find alternatives. Vere agreed to introduce me to some people from the Senobium.”

His frown deepened. You were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for all the wrong reasons. Though he can’t say that he isn’t fond of your chirpier side. The people of Eridia were typically solemn, apprehensive or the occasional thorn in the flesh.

“The Senobium’s bad news,” he muttered. Ais’s crimson orbs glowered at the mention of the academy. You shrunk at the face of his deadly glare. “Seriously, sparrow.”

“It’s a little better than losing a bit of this,” you tapped the side of your temple, a gibe at the same gesture he used to explain the price of drinking from the spring.

“You’d be losing far more.”

“At least I won’t lose my shitty attitude.”.

You were always the one to roll your eyes— always annoyed, and short-tempered, but it was Ais’s turn to roll his eyes now. “You want to keep that of all things?”

“Yes, some people happen to like it,” you beamed, jabbing a finger at his side. Your touch was as light as a feather.

“I’m the only person who said that.”

“Verbally, yes, but I think others might like me too.”

“Oh? Like who?”

“Leander.”

A deep chuckle escaped Ais’s lips. He threw his head back with a rumble, his horns scraping against one of the wooden beams. The spring water swelled beneath him and his tea had run cold. Princess snorted as well.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, tilting your head.

“He’s friendly with everyone. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“It’s not getting to my head.”

Ais hummed nonchalantly, pouring himself a bit more tea. The contents of the teapot had also run cold, but the demon continued to drain every last drop of the murky liquid into his cup.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He raised his cup, “Sorry. Did you want some?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I should be going now.”

“So soon?”

Words ran out of his mouth before he could catch them, but you put your hand up, a futile attempt to stop them dead in their tracks. “I just wanted to let you know about my decision. I’d rather not keep you.”

And yet they kept running.

“Not like I got many things to do here,” Ais shrugged.

“I’ve got many things to do in Lowtown.”

Ais grunted and pushed himself off the ground. He smoothed his hands over his trousers, brushing off invisible crumbs. Then, he offered you a hand.

“We’ll walk you back.”

You checked your bandages before taking his hand. He squeezed your hand before pulling you up to your feet. You return the gesture, squeezing his own bandaged hand. The demon firmly squeezed your hand once again, as if he wanted the last laugh. Ais then turned his attention to Princess and whistled. At the signal, the Soulless rose to all fours. Her tendrils unfurled and coiled around his forearm as she trotted over to his side.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he cooed.

While Princess purred and her tail wagged rapidly, bewilderment washed over your face. You never heard Ais engage in baby talk. Few people have, but their expressions were always the same. A big, bad monster coddling another big, bad monster? How strange. How absurd!

“Oh, yes you do! Yes, you do!”

You burst into a fit of laughter again. Princess cocked her head, looking up at her owner for an answer. Ais shook his head and scratched her chin.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped between your giggles, “It’s just– ha– so silly!”

“Take your time, sparrow.”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m done now.” you said, wiping a single tear from the corner of your eye. Ais smirked. Sparrow sure was a fitting name for you– who always twittered in short, abrupt bursts.

“After you.”

He pulled you towards him with a languid tug of his arm. His large hands stiffly held yours as he guided you towards the Seaspring’s entrance. The warmth of his hands seeped through your bandages. Princess trailed behind you, prancing along the wooden panels. You stared into the crimson water, the rafters, the talismans on the wooden frames– things that haven’t changed since your last visit to the spring or perhaps for a long, long time. The water formed small waves unnaturally and other Soulless creatures held your stare with a watchful, famished gazes. Shuddering, you turned your attention back to Ais.

Sunlight traced the edges of the entrance and as you neared the opening, the soft yellow rays kissed Ais’s sharp features, highlighting his jaw, nose and horns. He squinted in the harsh lighting, bringing his other hand to shield his eyes. You drew the hood of your cloak up. Princess dashed past your reluctant figures and leaped straight into the sun’s embrace. She let out a bark that sounded like a meow and, much to Ais’s dismay, stomped her legs in the bog’s muddy waters, urging the both of you to continue walking.

“You heard the boss,” he pointed.

You nodded and followed Princess. She was several meters ahead. Still in sight, but far enough to not eavesdrop. Not that Soulless creatures could listen in on conversations. Even if they could, there would be nothing to note. No words were exchanged between you and Ais. Your hands were still intertwined. Ais stole glances at you while you were engrossed in the horizon where Eridia stood proud and tall. At this angle, it looked like the sun was balancing on top of the city’s highest point– the Senobium’s spire. His eyes narrowed. He could hardly understand why anyone wanted to go to such a gloomy place.

“Will you be at the Wet Wick tonight?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ais clicked his tongue and averted his eyes to the side, “Depends.”

“Depends?”

“Might be there. Might not.”

“I see,” you smiled. Your eyes fixed themselves on the horizon and you both trudged across the mucky terrain in a stalemate of sounds. If the Soulless couldn’t find anything to note, perhaps crickets would.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Ais pressed his lips together as the bartender poured his umpteenth glass of whiskey. He sighed. Ais had only known you for two days, but there was something about your response earlier that lacked the usual bite and spite you had. The hell did you mean by “I see”? Were you finally at ease with his presence? Were you simply relieved that he wasn’t going to be there tonight? Another bad impression? He shook his head. It didn’t matter what you thought of him. At the very least, you weren’t pissing yourself at the sight of him.

“Something on your mind?” Leander’s peart voice chimed in. He patted Ais on the back with a firm smack before he slung an arm around his broad shoulders. The demon glanced at him, raising a brow. He had one of those chewy shots in his hands again. Ais licked his fangs.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Leander put his hands up defensively, “I’m not trying to pry! You just… seem a bit glum over here… in the corner.” His voice trailed off at the latter half.

“No one to pick a fight with.”

“Well, there’s always some friendly arm wrestling matches here. Or maybe some tabletop card games?”

“You just don’t want to pay for everyone’s drinks again.”

“I could pay for your next one,” he offered.

Leander caught the glass in his hand when the bartender slid it over. He nodded at her and she seemed to have gotten the memo. Shouts erupted from the Bloodhounds by the door. Someone had scored in whatever game they were playing. The mage’s emerald eyes darted to his companions then back to Ais.

“Duty calls.”

After another pat on Ais’s back, Leander was gone as quickly as he came. He jumped onto a table in the center, chanted something, raising his chewy shot glass and the crowd joined him. Claps, stomps, and hollers. Looks like he’s paying for everyone’s drinks again after all. Ais raised his glass a beat later than the Bloodhounds. He didn’t clap, stomp or holler, but the occasion was something worth celebrating. Free whiskey was better than cheap booze.

Ice clinked as he set his glass down and wood creaked. Weird. He was familiar with the sound of wood crepitating, but that sound was reserved for the rafters in the Seaspring. The Wet Wick was home to the sound of wood breaking. If wood were to creak here, the only source would be that dilapidated door. Not from the roof.

Ais leaned back against the bar counter and turned his head upward, to the sound of creaking wood. And there you were– standing on the stair landing, leaning against the railing. He tipped his head further back. You craned your neck, bringing your face closer to his, albeit at an awkward perpendicular angle. You smiled like you had struck gold. Your hair tickled his cheeks. He never paid any mind to the Wet Wick’s second floor, but he made a note to remember it now. The stairwell was also dilapidated.

“Evening, sparrow.”

“I take it you were in the mood to come?”

“Drinks were on Leander.”

“I see.”

There it was again. That damned “I see”. What the hell did you see? His eyes flickered over to your figure which was no longer cloaked. Your hair was disheveled, hands still covered like a maiden, and a yawn gracing your features as you approached the bar stool beside him. He saw something, alright.

“Sleep well?”

“Like a corpse.”

“That tired, huh?”

“I had a lot of errands to run today.”

You lunged forward and reached for a beer stein, a pitcher of water and a bottle of fruit wine behind the counter and poured yourself a helping amount of each into the mug. The barmaid paid no mind to you or your bizarre concoction. She continued polishing glasses as if you were a trick of the light. She must’ve seen combinations far more peculiar than diluted wine in a mug.

Ais swirled his whiskey, “Got a side hustle, already?”

“I guess you could say that. I’ve been taking some odd jobs. Information is worth its weight in gold here and I need information more than anything. Of course… you’d already know that,” you said, placing your hand onto your cheek.

“Hard not to know when you keep pestering me for some.”

“Not anymore! You can keep your spring secrets.”

“There were no secrets. Told you everything you needed to know.”

“Yeah, in the vaguest way possible,” you deadpanned.

“Did you not learn anything at all here?”

“Excuse me?”

There was the bite and spite you had. He was starting to miss it. He worried you’d pick up some of the insipid Hightown mannerisms, but it was for naught. You were still the spitfire. Ais smirked, “You just said information was worth its weight in gold. I know none of your secrets yet you keep asking for mine.”

You frowned at a loss for words. He was right. Though, you didn’t have anything to share that was worth even a sliver of copper. Nothing interesting. Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing that would turn a few heads. Save for your curse, but Ais figured that your curse laid in your molten hands from just a glimpse so that was off the table.

“What would you like to know?” you asked, silently resigned.

“Nothing.”

“Then why did you make a big fuss about secrets?”

Ais’s smile reached his ears. Your voice was nearing a shout. A rosy tint crept up your cheeks. The bar was dull in terms of entertainment on the weekdays– no roughnecks or angry sleazers– but seeing you worked up was a sight for sore eyes.

“You called the kettle black. Kettle’s gotta retaliate.”

“What if I want to know more about the kettle?”

“Thought you were done with the spring.”

“I am, but I want to know more about you.”

Your smile matched his, reaching ear to ear or higher if Ais’s eyes didn’t deceive him. The demon hummed, fiddling with his silver pendant that dangled by his sternum. He was feigning deliberation, but you leaned in on his sea-glass colored bicep, humming along. A sweet harmony to contrast his timbre, ushering him to a conclusion.

“Shoot,” Ais grinned.

“Why don’t you live in the city?” You pushed yourself off his arm. Your curious eyes leveled with his.

“Don’t think people here like my pets much.”

The Bloodhounds seemingly roared in affirmation. Another point scored in their vapid game. Timing was great. Ais swirled his whiskey again. Its amber color mellowed out to a muted brownish-yellow. The ice had melted.

“You live out there for your pets? Isn’t it lonely?”

“My pets are good company and… I go out at night.”

“If you feel like it.”

“Especially if I feel like it.”

“So it’s not that lonely out there?”

“Being alone and being lonely are two different things, sparrow.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Is that what you think?.”

“So yes?” you tried again.

He shook his head. You opened your mouth and formed a slight “O” shape before closing it. Ais propped his head onto his knuckles and continued, “Can’t be alone or lonely with my pets and my friend.” He tapped his temple. You rolled your eyes.

“Your friend talks?”

“‘Course they do.”

He let your snickers slip past his sharp ears. You still thought he had a screw loose up there despite him being dead serious. You, on the other hand, were dying from disbelief and laughter, but it didn’t matter if you believed him or not. If he showed you, you’d be as aimless as the Soulless or worse– pronounced as dead. Fortunately for you, he reserved Ocudeus for special once-in-a blue-moon occasions and tonight was a new moon… so he’ll play along with you. Yeah, he’s got an imaginary friend. They hit up the bar every other night and have a grand old time. The sea-glass ink that snaked around his arm was a matching tattoo with a drinking buddy whose name had long been forgotten.

“What about you? Curse aside, why are you in Eridia?” Ais asked once your hysterics simmered down.

“I’m only here because of my curse,” you replied coolly.

“Going home after you’re cured?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Ais’s eyes never left you– like a vulture waiting on your last breath. Looks like he hit the nail on the head. Not that it was hard to miss. You were easy to read. If his heart was on his sleeve, yours was on a platter.

“I guess not.”

“No family?”

“Something like that.”

“So you’re a runaway,” he reckoned.

Your eyes fell to the table and then to Ais’s metal-clad fingers which were drumming on the wooden surface.

“Got it wrong?”

“No, I mean, you were spot on. Intuition’s good.”

“Thanks. Got it from my friend.”

“Pft– does your friend know anything else about me?”

“You’re good company,” Ais said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Bites and barks the same amount. Terrible taste in drinks, but you hold a decent conversation so… that makes up for it.”

“I’ll have you know that my tas– hic!”

Your hands were quick to clamp over your mouth. Muffled “hics” periodically bypassed your bandaged fingers despite your vain efforts. Beside you, Ais was doing his darndest to maintain a neutral expression. His lips were pressed together tightly as if all of his teeth would fall out if he were to open his mouth.

Hic. Hic. Hic.

Ais had failed. A snort filled your ears. You shot him the deadliest glare you could muster, but it had no effect on him. His smirk was as smug as always. He locked eyes with you, taking your cup and filling it with water from a nearby pitcher. Maybe with a little too much water. The contents sloshed around the rim and splashed onto the table once he set it down.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He gestured at the mug, “Need to be fed too?”

Your lips curved upward beneath your hands, shaking your head “no”. Ais motioned at the cup once again. This time, you obliged. You lowered your bandaged fingers and wrapped them around the mug. Excess water leaked into the gauze as you gulped down half the pint in hopes of quelling your antsy diaphragm.

“You a lightweight?”

“Didn’t drink much back home.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The hiccups seemed to have subsided. You exhaled in relief and hoped that your embarrassment hadn’t traveled too far up your cheeks.

“No one to drink with?”

“More like… I didn’t go out much.”

“Good thing you’re free as a bird now.”

You smiled, “Yeah, I can go anywhere I want.”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Ais pinched the bridge of his nose as the gutter above his head pelted him with cold droplets of water. Stormy clouds invited themselves to Eridia over the course of the night, but they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to rain or not. They sprinkled a bit of rain here and some there, but showers never lasted more than five minutes. Even a man past his prime could last longer than these “storms”. The demon sidestepped the gutter and set his foot straight into a puddle. He scowled.

A little water didn’t hurt Ais. In fact, he liked the rain… just not when he was cradling a flimsy paper bag filled with gourmet dog biscuits. He would rather have shrimp cocktails for breakfast, lunch, and dinner than to make another trip to Hightown and talk to that snobby baker again.

…Maybe that was a stretch. His Soulless pets deserved the best and Ais would rather bite his own tongue than let seafood get anywhere near his mouth. One shrimp cocktail was enough for a lifetime. Dealings with an elitist dragged on for only a few minutes. Seconds if Ais skipped their hoity-toity pleasantries and opted to use his fists instead– a thought he entertained from time to time after one too many “please” and “thank you's”. It was more or less an intrusive thought, a controlled impulse. Ais was more than happy to wipe the disdain off that baker’s face with a solid punch, but then Princess wouldn’t have any fancy treats for when she was on her best behavior. He clicked his tongue. For her, he would be on his best behavior too.

The sun peaked out from the ashen clouds, shining a bit of light onto Ais’s path as if the sky was seeking penance for ruining his early morning shopping trip. He turned his head. He stared too long again. Even if shrouded by clouds, the sun was always there. Nothing special. His hurried steps padded the cobblestone road with a steady rhythm. His back faced the pearly bridge that connected Hightown to Lowtown. Ais adjusted the bag in his arms as he made his way through the maze of flood-eroded buildings.

Highborn nobles would be appalled at the sight of Lowtown, but this was Ais’s turf. No pleasantries. People here were blunt enough to let the money talk. Business was business. No “please” or “thank you’s”. You only needed to pay. If you didn’t want to pay, you exchanged information or goods. A brawl also doubled as a negotiation. A shame folks here were scared shitless of the Soulless.

Hu. Tu. Du, du, du, du.

Ais stopped. His crimson eyes casted their gaze to an alleyway that bisected the deserted Lowtown street that led to the spring and the lively Amaryllis District. He spun his heel and looked up at the gilded buildings of Hightown then back to the alleyway. A detour wouldn’t hurt. The Amaryllis District was closer to the bog than that bakery was. Besides, he hadn’t been there in a while. A change of pace was much needed.The walk home would be less lonely too. The district never slept.

La, du, du, du, du.

This tune…

The Seaspring was home to a few, repetitive sounds: The blood-red waters dripping and rippling from seepage, the purrs and growls of the Soulless and hushed whispers. When one ventured out to the Wet Wick, they, too, heard a few, repetitive sounds: alcohol being poured and measuredly sipped, the shouts and hollers of those who had one too many drinks, and faint murmurs.

There was not much of a difference in terms of sound between the spring and the city (save for Hightown’s polite contempt for commotion and the entertainment district’s hustle and bustle) but Ais knew a sparrow’s song when he heard one. He was sure of it– not that he was a musical prodigy or any sort. The song was unfamiliar, but he knew the sound of your voice. He never took you for a singer, but he also didn’t take you for a lightweight. He bet you never took him for the type to spoil his pets rotten either.

He smirked as he squeezed himself through the narrow passage.

A flurry of colors greeted him at the end of the tunnel like a gust of wind. Cerulean and coral lanterns strung themselves from building to building. Booths lined the street with an array of pastel tents. The avenue was nothing short of paintings, artisan goods, hand-crafted trinkets and gadgets. Street food vendors were also up and running, undeterred by the untimely hour. The elephant in the room was a large shell-pink tent sat in the middle of the plaza. People flocked and filed themselves around a ticket booth. The sign by the entrance read something along the lines of “troupe”. The fuss rushed past Ais, failing to rope him in.

His main attraction was a lone stall several paces to his right. The stand was further from its competitors, but it was as busy as any other booth in the district. Tables and benches lined its perimeter. Most of them were occupied. Some had wax candles and pressed flowers while others had glass and frayed paint brushes. Ais scanned the area and smiled, eyes landing on a bench in the corner. It was you, alright. The tune you were humming increased in volume as he tip-toed towards your table. Your back was facing him, immersed in your art project. Your hood was drawn up as well, but he caught sight of your bandages. You were trying to be discreet, but you stood out like a sore thumb to him. The Amaryllis District was vivacious and colorful. Even the air smelled colorful. You, on the other hand, were as ominous as a disciple of death– black cloak, half of your features shrouded by a cowl, and hands wrapped in gauze. And you had the gall to call the Seaspring creepy? The superstitious folks would’ve believed you if you came knocking on their door one day and told them their time was up.

But as luck would have it, Ais never bought into that sort of bullshit. And you were scary as a rabbit. Mischief spread across his face.

He pulled your hood down, earning a squeaky yelp from you. His hand was quick to clamp over your mouth, but nevertheless, a couple of heads turned– including yours.

“Easy. It’s just me.”

You nodded and pulled your hood back up with a huff. He removed his hand from your mouth, barely dodging the daggers you glared at him. He grinned.

“Top o’ the morning to you too, sparrow.”

You cocked your head. Ais put a hand behind his neck and cleared his throat. His gaze averted yours.

“Learned something last week. Means good morning.”

“Couldn’t you just say ‘good morning’?” you muttered.

“Gets boring.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to the glass bottle in your hand. It was short and stout, snuggly fit into your palm. He peered over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of a trio of birds flying over an ocean that was a work in progress. He frowned, realizing your little work song had ceased. He set his dog biscuits by your paint palette. You raised an eyebrow at the paper bag.

“For Princess,” he explained.

“Has she been well?”

“The good-est girl.”

“And you?”

“The good-est boy.”

“The best,” you joked.

Ais rested his head on the base of his palm and watched you add strokes of blue to your ocean. It was a shade darker than the other blues. It reminded him of Mhin’s cape. He grimaced. It reminded him of one of those rare nights in Eridia where the skies were clear enough to see the stars. His eyes trailed up to the stormy clouds. He won’t be seeing any stars anytime soon. When Ais turned his attention back to you, you had moved onto a lighter blue.

“You an artist?”

“Dabbled in it.”

“How ‘bout a singer?”

“I don’t sing.”

“Could’ve sworn you just were.”

“You misheard,” you said with finality.

“Did not.” He paused, then added, “Got sharp ears.” Ais pointed to his ears. They were indeed sharp– as most of his features were. Perhaps the only thing that wasn’t sharp about him was the ink on his arms.

He was met with silence and took it as an invitation to continue prodding at you.

“Okay then do you hum?”

Your lips were taut. Your brows knitted together in contemplation. Then, they relaxed. Ais smiled as you reluctantly nodded. The movement was incredibly subtle. If he blinked, he would’ve missed his prize..

“It sounded nice.”

“You think?” Your back straightened.

“Yeah, could’ve taken you for a performer here.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Honest, sparrow.”

“I thought about it before… back home… being a performer– even an artist,” you gestured at your glass with your paintbrush, "But I had… another role to play.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear and swapped the blue paint out for an off-white color, sketching sea foam onto your ocean waves. A secret was on the tip of your tongue.

“Not anymore though, right?”

You nodded. Free as a bird, you thought. You angled the glass to finish up some details. You were by no means talented. It was nothing worth auctioning or featuring in a gallery, but it was something you enjoyed, something you hoped to improve at. You found yourself coming to this booth more often than you’d like to admit. The owner knew your face and you had a collection of painted glass bottles tucked away in your room at the Wet Wick.

“Do you come here often?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Only to see a friend.”

You turned your head to the building with pink curtains. His eyes narrowed.

“Not like that, sparrow.”

“You were misleading,” you shrugged.

“This district’s alright. Too perfumy though,” Ais elaborated. A philanderer was not going on his mental tally of bad impressions on you. He’d like to keep the numbers at a humble three or four. He had causal relationships in the past, but not to that extent. It’s been a while too so it didn't count. That title was more suitable for other people. He could name a few off the top of his head, but he’ll do you a solid favor and keep those names to himself.

“You don’t come here often because of the smell–”

“Too strong on the nose.” He tapped his nose for good measure.

“When you live by a swamp?” You finished.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The water smells… strange there. It’s not like the river here.”

He knew what you meant. He knew the smell. He was certain you did too. You knew that smell all too well, considering you were welcomed by it on your first day in this city. It followed you as much as it followed him. Neither of you said a thing. Not a word or a whisper. A topic like that matched the somber skies, but clashed with the vitality of the arts and entertainment district.

“Smells fine to me.”

“That’s because you live by it!”

Ais smirked.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drip.

Those pesky gray clouds have finally decided to cry their eyes out after two days of dilly dallying in the sky, submerging Lowtown with their tears. The ramshackle districts of Eridia were no stranger to floods. It was something the people had grown used to, looked forward to even. Floods may destroy a few buildings or dent a couple of roofs, but they also wash away the pungent smell of blood and death. The downpour was so strong that the Soulless avoided the city. The people were free to wander about at night, albeit with a few limitations. There was not a single booth set up in the Amaryllis District. It was the only time the plaza got a wink of sleep. Well, most of the district. A handful of lights were still on and all pink curtains were drawn, a sign they could go all night long if they wanted to– rain or shine. That wasn’t the case for most stores in Lowtown. Most closed when the downpour began, but bars were open and that was all that mattered to Ais.

It was when Eridia rained that he simultaneously felt the most alone and the most at home. The flooded streets were akin to the Seaspring’s waters, but there was not a single soul in sight. He waded through the murky waters with unease. The rain turned the city into his domain. He was fond of it for many reasons, but it did not do what many Eridians loved about it the most: wash away unbearable stenches. Petrichor masked the smell of death, but it was prevalent nonetheless. Something lurked in these waters, waiting to be reaped. Or perhaps Ais’s intuition was off? His senses had been haywire for the past few days. He found himself looking over his shoulder to see if someone was behind him. Heat rushed to his usually cold cheeks. His heart raced even though he barely moved an inch. The rain started not too long ago so was it a long shot to say that not everything was washed out yet?

Splash!

Ais whipped his neck around, observing the Wet Wick’s alleyway. Blood spewed from the narrow pathway and coiled around his boots. It swirled and dissolved into the flood water congregating by the Wet Wick’s entrance. He cracked his knuckles and made his way to the alleyway. Even the rain couldn’t stop a good bar brawl. The victor of that fight was a worthy adversary if they could draw blood. Even if they weren’t, he was getting restless anyhow. Throwing a punch or two and knocking someone would be an easy fix for that. Talk about exciting.

Thud!

His grin faded as he stepped into the alleyway. His eyes dilated at the sight of Vere pining a cloaked figure to the wall with his bare hands. Blood spilled on the wall, dripping down into the flood water. Ais knew that cloak a little too well. It was black and embroidered with little bits of gold at the hem. He saw it a few times. At the Seaspring. At the Wet Wick. At the Amaryllis District.

He could count the number of times he saw that cloak on his hands, but the amount of times it plagued his thoughts every now and then exceeded the number stars in the sky– When will you visit Princess again? What kind of weird drink will you have next time? Would he be able to hear that song again?

The same cloak that festered in his mind was now saturated with blood. Despite the ebony fabric, there was enough blood in certain areas to dye it red. Your torso. Your legs. Your head. Though shrouded by a hood as always, your cowl was the deepest of crimsons. It was tantamount to the thick red waters of the spring.

Vere was the first– and perhaps the only one– to notice Ais. He furrowed his auburn brows and dropped your body onto the ground. An audible thump echoed through the alley yet you remained still, blood pooling and pooling.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Ais responded with silence. His eyes lingered on you. He hoped for you to chirp and twitter about something. Curse or bite someone if you must.

“Senobium’s orders,” Vere said, tossing his hair over his shoulder, “They were snooping around too much and… you know how that goes.”

"...I see." Two meaningless words that added nothing to the conversation, something he picked up from you. He never truly grasped the meaning of the phrase– he always thought of it as a sarcastic response– but "I see" seemed suitable to use for this specific situation. The scene before Ais was truly something and damn right he saw. He saw enough to know everything.

Vere's dusty pink eyes fell to his feet where blood accumulated. His ears drooped as he stepped away from your body. If he had put his tail between his legs, he could’ve fooled anyone. His shoulder brushed Ais’s on his way out of the alley. “We should head inside. My fur’s getting soaked.”

The demon balled his fists, words flying over his head. He sauntered deeper into the pathway and knelt down by your side. The bar’s dilapidated door creaked open and then shut, briefly shining on your marred face. There was not a single fleck of wonder or hope in your eyes. They were dull and gray like the stormy sky above you.

“I told you the Senobium was bad news, sparrow,” Ais smiled bitterly.

Rain trickled down his face, hot and briny. He smelt the stench of death before. He had seen disfigured bodies in the bog and drew blood during fights. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but somehow he could not bear to look at you or your mangled neck for any longer. He was getting tired of the rain already. He was tired of kneeling by your side. With a dejected sigh, Ais stood up.

Clink!

He clicked his tongue and lifted his boot up, revealing a shard of glass. Curious, he knelt down again, examining the shattered glass around your body. Must’ve been that bottle you painted the other day. Ais could barely make out the pieces, but he saw the various shades of blue you used. His eyes shifted to a rather large fragment by his boot. Unlike the other bits of glass, this one was yellow-orange with a small black line, the silhouette of a bird flying into the sun. Ais stomped on the fragment, crushing the painted sun beneath his feet as one would with a cigarette butt. He rose from the ground and turned his back to you, but instead of entering the bar, he ventured out into the storm.

Then maybe, just maybe, he, too, could be swept away by the rain.

#touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved ais #ais x reader #mine #mine:writing #angst

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daze4all · 5 months

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Stelle/Reader x Honkai Star Rail + Witch! Kafka Otome Game Fairytale AU Idea. Inspired by this:

youtube

Why is it we wish on fallen stars?

The answer quite simply is when stars fall wishes come true of course~

So how shall you make this star fall so your wish can be granted?

High Fantasy Honkai Star Rail Fic Idea: Starfall: Wish upon a Star .

Based on the game Witch Heart, the movie Stardust, and a kinda otome game style

With many fairytale-themed routes Reader. such as Cinderella, Beauty & The Beast:

Witch Kafka! x Fallen Star! MC! Reader

Snow Queen! Kafka x Kai!Reader (Maybe Greta somone?)

Rapunzel! Reader x Prince! Gepard,

Little Mermaid! Reader x Prince! Dan Heng/Feng,

Little Red Red Riding hood Reader x Werewolf! Jing Yuan

Evil Queen! Kafka x Seven Dwarves (all Guys) x MC Huntsman Blade x Reader

More Detailed Ideas

Fallen Star! Stelle x Yandere!Witch!Kafka: Kafka saves fallen star! Stelle intends to take Stelle’s star heart to make a wish. Still, Stelle must fall in love for the wish to be granted so Witch!Kafka resets Elio's Script in different fairytale iterations but Stelle keeps falling for other Honkai Star Rail characters who also have their wishes to be granted....

She is the one constant of this curse she cast, the one familiarity as over and over again she resets Elio's script until you love her back and give her your heart.

“So, why not fall into my arms and into the spider's web and surrender yourself to me?” Witch! Kafka purrs enticingly

Or you could escape the spider web and find love yourself but are the options any better in this dark twisted fairytale version?

Rapunzel!Stelle X White Knight! Gepard- Classic guy saves girl with Tangled twist. Gepard falls in love and wishes to see her again and save Stelle who while sheltered & naive due to Yandere! Mommy! Kafka's misinformation is armed with a frying pan. Tangled! Stelle wants to find her family and Gepard takes her on this adventure...or gets caught by Witch! Kafka maybe white knight to dark Knight twist if it takes the traditional tale gone wrong Yandere route

Kafka resets the story takes Stelle and hides in the red riding hood cabin in the woods…

2. Yandere!Werewolf!Jing Yuan x Red Riding Hood! Reader: Werewolf jing yuan his pack was killed by hunters and Red Riding Hood Star Stelle may grant his wish to have his pack back...

7. Little Mermaid: Reader x Dan Heng/ Dan Feng Double personality

Ursula! Kafka x Mermaid Reader

Next, she is sea witch who seeing the pattern of your heart falling to everyone nut here decides to give you a taste of your own medicines.

Yes, love the prince but Witch Kafka be there to seduce and steal him away so when little mermaid you falls into the sea in tears falling apart into bubbles she’ll be there to catch you and put you back together.

Prince in this version may be Blade as only one see him swayed by Kafka Or Prince! Dan Heng/feng since water dragon palace by the sea theme but he’d refuse her.

Dan Feng./ Heng may be dealing with double personalities.

March as the 'Sebastion who tries to match make and get MC!Reader and Dan Heng together by singing Just Kiss the girl during the secluded lake boat scene~

Prince Dan! Heng saves you classic Prince Eric style aka drives boat into the sea witch.

Do you think I’d really die when I remake this world time and time again?- Witch! Kafka

8. Beauty & the Beast: Beast!Blade

This time be the beast that drives her into my arms~ Kafka tells Blde as she resets the story to beauty and the beast.

8. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

“Hearts are fickle who shall you fall for next and give your wishing heart too? Much better to have it boxed up and delivered to me permanently so you can never leave~"

"Hunstman Blade bring me her heart in box" Evil Queen! Kafka orders

Huntsman! Blade x Stelle

Who from past romantic encounters may show mercy despite memory muddled or altered by Witch! Kafka

“ Run hide in the forest” Blade says when he catches Reader returning instead with another heart to trick Evil Queen! Kafka.

Prince Gepard- from tangled come back to find you> maybe white knight turned dark knight twisted as beej long time and hurt watch you get with other men past drabbles idk.

Afterword

“Finally, I found you do you remember me? Don’t worry I’ll make you remember our love”

Say if a star were to fall what would you do for a wish?

Don’t you know love can make wishes come true but so too can sacrifice.

The secret to granting your wish is to steal the heart of a fallen star.

I’ll turn the pages of story and rewrite the script as any time until I have the stars heart.

I wish freedom from the madness in my mind.

I wish to end this immortal existence.

I wish for my family to be back.

I wish to see you again.

I wish for this story to go on and never end.

#male yandere x reader #yandere imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail imagines #male yandere #kafka honkai star rail #yandere kafka #yandere blade #yandere dan heng #yandere gepard #yandere honkai star rail #dan heng #hsr blade #yandere jing yuan #Youtube

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jerzwriter · 7 months

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Tricks and Treats

Thank you to @aces-and-angels for this ask for Halloween prompt #28. It's the perfect prompt for them. I hope I did it justice. :)

Book: Crimes of Passion Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose) Words: 1,400 Rating: Teen Warnings: Some violence, though nothing too intense; cursing Summary: Trystan & Carolina are running late to Ruby & Luke's Halloween Party. They have one stop to make on the way, but things go awry. A/N: It helps if you know the story of Little Red Riding Hood, but you don't have to. Participating in @choicesoctober Halloween, @choicesholidays Halloween

CoP Masterlist Main Masterlist

“One, two, three, four,” Carolina’s red cape fluttered behind her each time she raised her arm to grab another bottle of wine from the shelf. She had her hand on the fifth when she paused. “Five? Is five necessary? Maybe four will do... I can’t be the only one bringing wine... and I’m not just saying this because my shopping basket is so freaking heavy...”

She could feel the weight of someone’s stare as she continued the animated conversation with herself. Turning her head quickly , she found a mildly amused shopper looking her way.

“My friends like wine,” Carolina shrugged. “A lot, actually... but... this is getting heavy, and I need to make a decision. I don’t normally talk to myself like this!” As the shopper shuffled away, Carolina yelled after her. “I don’t! I really don’t... I’m a very sane person! Totally sane... except... for right now.”

She let out a snort imagining how ridiculous she must have looked... Little Red Riding Hood standing in the middle of an aisle at Westside Market, rambling aimlessly about how much alcohol she needed to buy while declaring herself sane. New Yorkers were used to unusual sights, but she didn’t blame the woman for rushing away.

She looked at her watch with a frown. They were already twenty minutes late for Ruby and Luke's party and still had midtown traffic to grapple with, so she set off to find Trystan, still talking to herself as she turned her neck to look down each aisle.

“Trystan, where are you?” Though she was actively looking for him, her heart still skipped a beat when a big, furry paw landed on her shoulder.

“Trystan!” she startled, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“There is no Trystan,” he snickered, playfully pulling her close. “Only the Big Bad Wolf..uh.. no.. I mean Grandma! I’m Grandma, trust me.”

“Grandma? What big paws you have!” she beamed as he nuzzled into her neck and playfully growled.

“The better to paw you with, my dear...”

“Well, you can paw me once we get to the party. We’re very late.”

She went to reach for his hand, bursting into laughter when she saw the contents in his basket. “What are you buying?”

“Sausage and whipped cream,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Caroline winced. “Sausage... and whipped cream?”

“Yes. Ruby asked me to pick up chorizo, and there is no way I’m partaking in Luke’s pumpkin pie without the benefit of whipped cream. What do you take me for? A heathen?"

“But, Trystan... we’re walking up to the cashier to purchase a lot of wine, an obscenely large chorizo... and whipped cream.... how does that look?”

“Like we’re on our way to one hell of a party,” he winked.

“Why don’t we stop on aisle five and throw in some Vaseline. That should give the staff something to talk about for hours, maybe days, to come!”

“Aisle five, you say?” he said, grabbing her hand.

“Can we forget I mentioned that?”

But his impish grin gave her all the answers she needed.

“I should know better by now,” she sighed.

~~~~~

Carolina was lost in thought as they waited on the barely moving line. Trystan scrunched his nose to wordlessly to inquire about her thoughts.

“I should get more wine,” she insisted. “I mean... you know our friends. This won't be nearly enough.”

“Well, I don’t think this line is going to move anytime soon. Would you like me to run and get more?”

“No, you wait here,” she insisted. “I’ll go.”

“Just be quick,” he smiled. “It's dangerous out in the woods.”

“I know!” She said with wide eyes. “We even have Drakovian wolves now!"

“Oh! The worst kind!” he scoffed, patting her bottom quickly as she rushed off, his eyes never leaving her until she was out of sight. He turned back to face the front of the line and met the disapproving gaze of an elderly woman in front of him.

“It's OK," Trystan insisted. "She’s my girlfriend, that was perfectly acceptable behavior.”

Not sure she was satisfied with his answer, he pulled out his phone to check messages. He was lost in thought when...

“Freeze!” A masked man wearing an undistinguishable costume yelled as he launched at the cashier, gun blazing.

The teenage girl at the register began to scream.

“Shut the hell up and keep your hands where I can see ‘em... then no one gets hurt!”

Suddenly, another man dressed as Chewbacca whipped around and pointed a gun at the customers waiting in line.

“Don’t any of you get any ideas either!”

Trystan held up his hands with a roll of his eyes. “This behavior is so unbecoming of a Wookie.”

But his bravado depleted at once when the man cocked his pistol and aimed it at Trystan.

“Think you’re funny there, Scar?"

"Scar? No...I'm the Big Bad Wolf."

"SHUT UP!!! One more out of you, and you’ll be laughing at the morgue.”

Back at the register, the young cashier nervously tossed cash into a shopping bag as the robber was losing patience.

“Make it quick, Blondie! We don’t have all day!”

The old woman in front of Trystan began to hyperventilate and appeared to lose her balance.

Trystan reached out to touch her arm. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered; but his sudden movement jarred the Wookie assailant, who fired a shot in the air.

“I SAID DON’T FUCKING MOVE! DON’T MAKE ME DO SOMETHING I DON’T WANT TO DO!”

But eyes lit up when he caught a flash of light from the old woman’s direction.

“Well,” he let out a slow whistle. “That’s one hell of a diamond ring you’ve got there... hand it over!”

“No..." she cried. "I’ll give you all my money, but not this! Please! My Harry gave this to me for our fortieth anniversary! I remember him every time I see it!"

“Lady, unless you want to join Harry tonight, HAND IT OVER.”

Trystan clenched his teeth as the old woman tearfully removed the ring from her finger; that’s when he locked eyes with Carolina. A knowing look passed between them, and she gently nodded, mouthing the words... one... two... three....

Carolina rushed to the register, raising a bottle of wine high above her head, breaking it over the gunman’s head. Meanwhile, Trystan charged Chewbacca. He wailed as Trystan twisted his arm in an inhuman position until his gun fell to the floor. The first man began coming to and attempted to reach for the fallen weapon...

“Oh, no, you fucking don’t!” Carolina yelled as another bottle of wine crashed into his temple.

Trystan sat atop the other man to hold him in place. But when the police arrived, they took aim at Trystan.

“NO!” Carolina yelled. “The Big Bad Wolf is the good guy! He's with me. Chewbacca is the one you want!”

“My mistake,” the officer nodded. “The call just said a hairy beast was one of the assailants."

"It's OK," Carolina smirked. "It’s not every day we see the Big Bad Wolf and Chewbacca wrestling on the floor!”

“Wrestling?” Trystan spat. “There was no wrestling! I had this second-rate mongrel fully under control!”

“Of course, you did, dear,” Carolina smiled as the other officer took the wine-battered criminal off her hands.

The officer couldn't help but laugh. “It’s not every day you see Red and the Big Bad Wolf taking out the bad guys, either.”

“Hey, it’s New York,” Carolina shrugged. “You never know what you’ll see... especially on Halloween.”

With that, she turned to the wine-battered criminal. “Speaking of which... what the hell is your costume? I can't even tell what you were supposed to be."

“Sinatra!” The man answered bitterly.

“Sin... SINATRA! Frank Sinatra!” Carolina spat. “If I had known that, I would have hit harder! How dare you disparage Frank like that!”

“Do you have a thing for Sinatra?” Trystan questioned. “Perhaps I should have chosen my costume more carefully.”

“Sinatra was one of my father’s favorites,” she smiled softly. “And this SOB has the audacity....”

“Detective Rose,” the officer interrupted. “We need to take your statement.”

“Oh, of course,” she said as Trystan's phone rang.

“It shouldn’t be long. Then you two kids can head back to grandma’s house.”

As the officer took out his notepad, he and Carolina heard bits and pieces of Trystan's conversation.

“I know you’re desperate for the chorizo... we stopped a robbery.... yes, a robbery.... we’re fine... we’ll be leaving shortly... I have whipped cream, too.”

Carolina shook her head. “Whenever I'm with you, it seems words I could never have imagined in the same sentence all just meld together."

"I'm confident I'm not the first person to say chorizo, whipped cream, and robbery in the same breath."

"I don't know," the police officer muttered. "I think you might be."

After wrapping things up, the store manager came over to thank the couple, insisting they take their order for free. As they made their way out into the cold, moonlit night, Trystan suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"We just can't have a normal night out, can we?”

“Hon, this is normal for us,” she smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Now, keep moving. Luke is desperate for his chorizo.”

"Talk about words I'd never hear strung together," he laughed.

It was a Halloween they'd never forget. 🎃

@choicesficwriterscreations Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #crimes of passion #choices crimes of passion #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x mc #trystan x carolina #playchoices #choices stories you play #halloween #fic reqs

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technicolorbirds · 3 months

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Haunted Dreams (Licht Klein x MC)

Happy 3ish days after Valentines! Lay witness, friends, to my piece for @ikemenlibrary's Valentines exchange. I was assigned to @midwinterrmemento for some sweet sweet angst. Type of angst was never specified, so I went for the classic bad dream scenario. Also romance is my weakest genre but god did I try my best okay bye

There’s something to be said about springtime in Rhodolite. In a country famed for its roses, it’s easy to overlook the blossoming flora that surrounds the outer edges of the kingdom. Perhaps it’s not quite the sprawling, expansive ecosystems found in Jade, but there’s a certain charm in the soft chirping of birds and gentle breeze that blows through the trees and rustles through Emma’s hair, and makes one feel as though they’ve stepped right through the pages of a storybook.

Emma finds herself flitting off into her own daydreams as she and Licht stroll hand-in-hand through the forest path. She indulges herself in thoughts of fairytales and princely romances as they continue along the trail, just as she did as a child. How odd to think that she’s found herself a prince of her own. One who’s endlessly kind and selfless, and does nothing but smile softly at her whilst she rambles on about her silly romance novels, wordlessly readjusting the hood of her cloak when the deep red fabric of her hood threatens to fall. In her free hand, she carries a basket brimming with wild flowers. They must have been collecting them along the trail, though Emma finds that she’s unable to recall exactly when they had stopped to pick them up. It gnaws at her, being unable to remember, but quickly she dismisses it. It’s rude to let her mind wander off in such a manner whilst in the company of her lover.

The stem of a flower tucks itself behind her ear, startling her from her thoughts. Licht stands in front of her, face expressionless aside from the fond, inquisitive look in his eyes. She must not have wiped the brief dismay from her face quickly enough.

“Are you alright?” Licht’s voice is smooth, tinged with such a soft concern that Emma has to fight back a blush.

“Hm,” she hums and tilts her head with a small smile. “I’m fine, just lost in my head. Maybe we should go back to the palace now? It’s getting a little cold out here for me with the breeze.” Emma makes a show of pulling her red cloak tighter around her body and hopes it’s enough to brush off the question. It’s a weak attempt, but it seems to have worked well enough. Licht untangles their hands to wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer into his side and takes the basket of flowers from her with his free hand.

“Of course.” His arm tightens around her in a protective manner. “I’ll draw you a bath, too. So you won’t get sick.” Emma lets out a small laugh, tucking her head into his shoulder with a grin. Who’d have known that the emotionless, solemn prince of wolves would have such a wide protective streak. She’ll have to find a way to repay his kindness someday, but it seems as though her debt will keep growing by the hour.

The trek back seems to take much longer than the time it had taken them to get there. The trail twists with curves and turns that have Emma scrunching her eyebrows as she tries to recall coming across them before. Licht seems unaware of her growing unease, continuing down the path in front of him with an air of steadfast confidence; and it’s a comfort to know that her lover isn’t put off by the changing scenery.

There’s a markedly different feeling to the woods then there had been earlier. The sun has hidden away behind a wall of thick gray, and a light layer of fog now clings to their feet and shrouds the trees around them in an ominous cloud. Neither of them speak as they wade through the fog, and it’s now that Emma has a realization.

It’s quiet. Not a single sound is coming from their surroundings; there are no birds chirping, or trees rustling from squirrels. Apart from the crunch of dirt and rocks under their feet, the forest has fallen utterly silent. Emma’s earlier unease is slowly settling into a deep fear as the path continues to twist in an unknown direction. She grips onto Licht’s arm like a vice. She wants to say something, ask him what’s going on, why he seems so unshaken by their surroundings, but the words die on her tongue just as soon as her lips part to speak. A growl rips through the silence, low and menacing.

A wolf parts through the fog, head dropped low and teeth bared in a snarl. It’s large. Bigger than any wolf Emma has seen, or even read about. She takes a stumbling step backwards, keeping Licht’s arm clutched close to her chest in fear. Licht’s free hand immediately falls to the hilt of his sword, and gently, he pushes Emma behind him to shield her. It feels as though time has slowed around them. The fog has grown thicker, blurring out the treeline almost entirely. It feels as though they’ve been backed into a corner by a monster rather than a simple animal.

It prowls closer, one slow, deliberate step after the other, until there’s only an arm’s length of space between Licht and the wolf. His sword is drawn and at the ready, waiting for the attack. There are tears pooling in the corners of Emma’s eyes as she watches the beast rear down on its haunches.

It’s a startlingly quick procession. The wolf lunges forward with teeth bared, and Licht wrenches his arm free from Emma’s hold to shield her completely with his own body, sword raised to defend them both. She thinks he yells for her to run, but the words don’t quite register. Emma stands stock-still in the middle of the warped forest trail, tears now streaming down her cheeks in waves. It’s not long before the sword has been knocked out of Licht’s hands and the wolf is on him in seconds. It’s jaws open wide, wider than should even be possible, before it descends upon Licht with killing intent. And Emma screams. She shrieks a piercing scream, and keeps screaming until the fog is closing in around her with crushing weight, as though it wants to bury her. It wraps around her chest tightly, and Emma lets out one final guttural sob before the fog overtakes her entirely.

Until it hasn’t. She’s still crying as reality reshapes around her, sobbing loudly for her lost lover as warm callused hands gently shake at her shoulders. “It’s just a dream,” a familiar voice whispers into her ear. It’s soft and filled with hesitant concern, and Emma clings to the sweet nothings as they slice through the terrible images in her mind with a striking ease, “You’re okay. It’s just a dream. I’m here.”

When her eyes finally open, it’s not to the sight of blood, or fog, or a ravenous beast coming to finish her off. It’s Licht, reliable, steadfast Licht, staring down at her with wide eyes and a pinched expression. His hands lay gently on her shoulders, fingers twitching to hold tighter, pull her closer, but he doesn’t. He stays hovering, keeps his gaze glued to her form as if one glance in another direction would send her back into whatever horrible dream she woke from.

“Are you…okay?” There’s an uncertainty to the tone of Licht’s voice, a fear, and it squeezes Emma’s heart to know that she had been the one to cause it. Her scream must have startled Licht from his own dreams.

“I’m okay now. Please. I’ll tell you about it in the morning, just,” she hesitates, not wanting to worry her love any further than she already had. “Just hold me, please.”

The hands on her shoulder move as soon as the request has been made, quickly swapping the two of them into a more comfortable position. Emma’s head is tucked neatly into the side of Licht’s neck, where each breath she takes is accompanied by the scent of his cologne. His arms wrap around her waist, providing a soothing weight. It’s… blissful.

All of the lingering fear has melted away into the background as Emma’s breath evens out with slumber for a second time. This time, there’s no sign of changing paths or ominous feelings as she sleeps. Only the faintest hint of cologne and a reassuring warmth wrapping her up in a blanket of safety.

#No one talk to me I'm so nervous rn (a lie please talk to me)#ikemen prince #licht klein #ikepri #ikemen licht #Licht Klein x MC (Emma)#my ikemen valentine gift exchange

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