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xxsabitoxx · 3 months

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Ryomen Sukuna NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 11 :) - I've developed an unhealthy obsession with true form Sukuna... he is all I think about now. Forgive me because this one is for sure a bit OOC since he like... loves you

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you managed to break the hollow icy shell that is Sukuna’s heart and make yourself someone important to him… Sukuna is pretty damn good with aftercare. He’ll clean you up, even ordering someone to get numbing salves because he tore you the fuck up and he know’s you’ll be sore and aching within a few hours if you aren’t already. He’ll use two arms to cradle you gently while his other set works on cleaning you up and making sure you’re okay. He’ll wait until you’re sleeping to whisper praises to you, telling you that you did so well for him and that he adores you. He’ll never really say these things to you when you’re awake though.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sukuna loves your legs and thighs, he loves your hips and your stomach too. He loves having things to hold and your body provides so much softness for him. He loves to kneel before you – that’s right the king of curses kneeling before you – to lick all the way from the top of your foot up to your inner thigh. He’ll cover your legs in bruises and bites, making sure everyone is well aware that you are his property and nobody else can have you. He adores your stomach, often resting his head against it and letting you pet his hair lovingly. Sukuna will only show this level of vulnerability to you, letting down some – not all – of his walls.

Sukuna loves his entire body, four arms, two mouths, two dicks, and all. He considers it his masterpiece and it deserves to be worshiped. He has no shame in proclaiming this either.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If he’s not dumping several loads into your cunt/ass then what’s the point? Sukuna treats his cum just as he treats the rest of his body… It's sacred and a privilege to have it. He toys with the idea of painting your face or chest in it but ultimately doesn’t see the point in letting something so valuable go to waste. So creampies are the only way in Sukuna’s eyes. And trust me when I say this man cums a fucking boat-load. I don’t care if it’s realistic or not, he’s making you look bloated by the time he’s done with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sukuna would let you do anything you wanted to him… he just hasn’t found the strength to give you that knowledge yet. He hates the idea of someone holding power over him, which is why he’s ever so mildly terrified of you. You may not realize it, but you have Sukuna wrapped around your finger… that man would kill the entire planet for you if it meant seeing you smile.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sukuna is very experienced, having tens if not hundreds of harlots laying around for his use. But that was before you. You changed his view on that sort of thing and he got rid of every single one of them… you are all he needs to remain satisfied and that is a feeling Sukuna never thought he'd experience in his existence. Sukuna knows what he’s doing and he knows what he’s doing well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sukuna’s favorite position is holding you up so your back is pressed to his chest. He has a hand hooked under each of your knees and he’s holding you up that way, spreading you apart further than your legs really allow. Sukuna is either sitting or standing and honestly he prefers when a mirror is present so he can watch your face contort in a mix of pain and pleasure. He has you impaled on his cock, easily able to trust in and out of you as you fall apart.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not even a hint of goofiness in this man when he fucks you. He is all about business… I mean for real it was actually kind of terrifying at first but now you’re used to it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sukuna doesn’t really give a shit about his hair down there… and yes it’s pink like the rest of his hair. It may sound fucking bizarre but if you want to trim and clean him up down there? He’ll let you do it. You bathe him often so it’s not necessarily out of your comfort zone to sit there and groom his nether region. He doesn’t really care what you do down there either. You can simply trim him to your liking or shave him bald. Whatever you’re into, he truly doesn’t care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sukuna is… romantic in his own way. He’s not detached from the situation at hand and he’s not focused entirely on himself. Sukuna shows his “romantic” side by letting you cum, maybe sparing you a few kisses, rubbing his thumb across the nail marks he left on your legs… he’s not one to say “I love you” or really express how much you mean to him. But it’s the small, subtle little things that hint towards his affection for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s got four hands, you’d think he’d use one of them to get himself off but he simply doesn’t see a need for that when he can have a random whore come do it for him. When it comes to you though? You never leave him, like Uraume, you’ve earned your spot by his side. He has you to assist him with those kinds of needs when they arise (heh). Though, he’s amused you once or twice by jerking himself off for your own enjoyment. Making a show of using two hands to jerk off his two cocks but stopping just before he comes because – as i’ve said – he doesn’t like to waste any of it, not a single drop can be spared.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Slave/Master kink for one… he just likes the feeling of being superior even though he doesn't need to “roleplay” to get that feeling. BDSM… or whatever equivalent there is for the Heian period. He likes it rough, messy, even a little bloody. Sukuna has a massive breeding kink but doesn’t want kids, he just likes the idea of filling you over and over again (regardless if you have the ability to get pregnant or not). Dacryphilia for sure, your tears turn him on. Orgasm control (both denying and overstimulation) are just another aspect that plays into his love of power. Sukuna loves restraints in any form, not him, though. He will for sure try and fist you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Sukuna will fuck you where ever the fuck he wants too with no shame. He’ll fuck you on his bed, ruin the luxurious sheets and break the bedframe over and over. It’s gotten to the point where he actually got rid of it all together because he was sick of the wood splintering and nearly hurting you. Sukuna can and will fuck you on a raised platform in front of his petrified subjects. He wants everyone to know who you belong too – even if you don’t need to be fucked stupid in front of hundreds of people for them to know. It’s quite obvious. To be totally honest, Sukuna loves the mess and mayhem of fucking you in the tub. Watching the water slosh everywhere then ordering a maid to come clean up the damage, it makes him laugh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There is an innocence to you that really gets Sukuna going. You’ve done the most downright filthy things with him, you’ve stood beside him as he makes a bloody mess of someone… but somehow you still retain this sort of innocence to you that he loves to try and taint. It’s not to say you’re oblivious… you’re very smart in Sukuna’s eyes and he knows you have a mean streak. But when you’re with him… there is something about you that he wants to break so badly and he has such fun trying to do so… you’re resilient which would usually piss him off to no end… but with you it’s endearing and he can’t figure out why he can’t get enough (you’re in love dumb ass)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Shit. Yeah no that’s the one thing he can not and will not deal with. He’s had his fair share of bodily fluids – to say the least without going into detail. But he draws the line at anything to do with vomit or scat. It disturbs him… which is saying a lot. He’s had women offered to him as sacrifice that have done several things in fear and he can say he truthfully cannot handle it. Also, no threesomes ever. He’s not sharing you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a healthy combination of both (shocking). Sukuna loves watching you struggle to even take one of his cocks in your mouth nevermind both. But your mouth feels so damn good even though you struggle to get more than the tip past your lips. Sukuna loves to go down on you though, keeping your thighs spread apart so he can eat you as he pleases. Your arousal just tastes so good to him, he can’t get enough and he will not stop until he’s satisfied.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and cruel for the most part. But he can be even meaner when he goes unbearably slow, splitting you open agonizingly with two cocks opposed to one just to see those pretty tears slip down your cheeks as you beg and plead for mercy (mercy he never gives). Sukuna will fuck you stupid with one cock most of the time, that’s his little bit of kindness towards you, but you’ll get fucked twice at least… ya know… gotta get the second cock off too. He’ll give you a choice, get fucked twice with one cock each time or get fucked once with two… mind you it’s never just once even if it’s two cocks at the same time or one each. You’re smart enough to take one cock multiple times unless you want to be bedridden because you can’t walk. Both options have happened to you many times though… so you really can’t tell why he offers you a choice.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sex can take up a whole day when it comes to Sukuna. So, no, he despises quickies. He doesn’t like to be rushed, he doesn’t care if he gets caught, he’ll make people watch. What is there that would really appeal to him??? It seems more annoying than anything really.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will experiment but only on his own accord. He won’t say it outright but Sukuna is at least a bit mindful of the experiments he does… he doesn’t want to really hurt you or scare you away. So he picks and chooses what he wants to try on you. If there is something very intriguing to him that he worries will make you uncomfortable? He’ll force two other people to play it out while he watches and decides from there… he’s oddly considerate of you in that sense.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As you saw above… sex can be an all-day process for Sukuna. He can last as long as he wants to… and I mean that seriously. His stamina is infinite, nothing will stop him but himself. He can go multiple rounds until you’re so fucked out you’ve lost count. He can last anywhere from 15-25 minutes per round, he could last much longer but his goal is inevitably to cum so why bother… praying for you honestly.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys like we know today don’t exist within his era (the Heian period) and honestly?? Sukuna is a fucking jungle gym in his own right so you really don’t need toys… and even if they did exist and were at his disposal? Sukuna isn’t using them. Why the hell would he rely on a stupid little toy to get you off when he’s more than capable?? He’s not intimidated by them, he just would think they’re absolutely useless… modern day though… if you begged him for a vibrator he would probably cave and get you one. He may even find amusement in it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sukuna and fair do not belong in the same sentence so it should shock nobody that this man will tease you until you are nearly dry heaving with how hard you’re crying. He will tease you for hours, to the point it feels like genuine torture, before he feels like getting you off. Then, the unfair attitude continues because he will not stop even when you start begging him to. He likes how quickly he can make you regret your words, seeing those pretty fat globs of tears leaking down your cheeks only makes the experience better for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sukuna will curse and groan but that’s about it. He won’t try and hide his noises, either, but he will try and make sure he’s not too loud. It’s rare to get a moan, whine, or whimper out of him. Especially since he has such good control over himself. But he will not hesitate to groan about how good his cock is feeling because of you… he has to give you a little something to get you to stick around, ya know? Not that you have a choice… and not that you’d really want to leave him anyways… giving up your luxurious lifestyle and being on the king of curses’ good side isn’t something just anyone can obtain, you know.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sukuna hates your family, ever since you were dropped off to him to be a sacrifice. He doesn’t care about his donors and their sacrifices since all of them are mediocre pieces of shit at best. Though he knows a scumbag like him is not one to talk. But you? You arrived to him nearly beaten to death, half naked, with little to no emotion left in you. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Where was the fun in playing with something that was already half dead. Though, as he was about to kill you, something in your expression moved his icy heart. That truly petrified him but he’d never let anyone know it. He kept you instead of killing you, ordering for the immediate execution of your rotten family instead. He likes to joke that he had the perfect specimen nursed back to health, in his eyes you really were perfect.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sukuna is a tall man… while we don’t know his exact height in true form… he’s been guesstimated to be anywhere from 7.5 feet to 9.8 feet. A tall man is going to have a monstrous cock… or cocks in his case. When he’s soft he’s about 8.5 inches in length, and when he’s hard he’s just over 11 inches. He’s monstrous, girthy and sticks straight out… both of them do. He will hurt… he will make you feel like you’re getting ripped in half and he will often try and fist you to prepare you for him. He cannot fit all the way inside of you, as much as he’d love to, he's not trying to kill you by rupturing your organs. He’s a tan color, one dick is circumcised, the other is not… he was feeling quirky, and has a deep rosy pink tip… or tips… you know what I mean.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sukuna has to fuck you at least twice a day, if he doesn’t, he’s extremely irritable. He has at least 5 hours of his day set aside just for you. But really he makes his own schedule so he can do whatever the fuck he wants when he wants to. His sex drive is pretty damn high and he does absolutely nothing to deal with it or hold off. He will get off the moment he wants too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sukuna prefers falling asleep after you do, which can be pretty instant considering how long he may have been fucking you. So the answer is anywhere between 30 seconds and 10 minutes.

#jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #sukuna imagine #sukuna smut #sukuna headcanons #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

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astrobydalia · 4 months

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🪐 Astro Observations!!!✨

Happy 2024 babes! Here’s to another year sharing astrology stuff with all of you 🤩

work by astrobydalia

Yes water moons have great intuition and could be psychic but I very often notice they tend to allow their personal feelings interfere with their decisions and could tend to not follow their intuition as much. The ones that have a more reliable or unbiased intuition imo are Earth moons and Aquarius moon.

Scorpio Venus really do gravitate to unhealthy relationships… All their connections tend to have unfair or imbalanced dynamics to them where there’s no equal give and take. They believe love means throwing yourself and your life away for another person (or they expect someone to give everything away for them) with little to nothing in return. They may not understand the difference between deep intimacy and unhealthy attachment

Libra placements and their ability to appear likable even when they have the shittiest personality deep down

In my opinion Moon is the most important planet if you really wanna begin to know someone at their core. Ultimately no planet can give you full info without the context of the whole chart tho (#AllPlanetsMatter), but you can really uncarcarve sm about someone just by moon placement/aspects/degree, etc. Moon rules your needs and so it really cements your personality and its an energy that you'll project in so many areas of your life (relationships, career, etc)

Fixed Mars are ARGUMENTATIVE fr fr. They need to have the last word and will die on that hill if they have to💀Honorable mention: Virgo/Gemini Mars due to Mercury influence but they’re more about friendly banter and aren’t as stubborn

80% of Aries Moons I've met were very philosophical/spiritual/religious. They can develop a self-awareness that gives them a lot of wisdom. The other 20% were just adult toddlers and very egotistic...

Capricorn placements and their internalized elitism. They really do believe some people are better than others which is the shadow of Capricorn unfortunately

Aquarius Moons are some of the most traumatized people I know fr fr. Whenever I get to know their life and backstory Im always like bro….😶😶 It makes me so sad cause they always bring such good vibes everywhere (they have a playful aura) when in reality there’s a depth of pain underneath you wouldn’t even fathom through that unbothered persona. The OG misunderstood.

We all know Scorpio is all about depth, intensity and looking beyond the surface but I’ve very often observed the exact opposite in scorpio placements. They could tend to be very superficial, greedy and materialistic, more obsessed with wealth and status than any earth placement (it all comes down to power). In such cases their interest in occult or deep topics could also be superficial or opportunistic, like they only see it as something that could give them a leg up in life or help them avoid unseen threats but that's about it.

Cancer Risings do not come across as sensitive at all. They tend to have a rather sassy personality and are pretty defensive 90% of the time tbh. Think about it, are crabs 🦀 cute and cuddly? No, you actually actually have to be very careful around one cause they sting lol. They do wear their heart on their sleeves and are very sensitive and perceptive but because of this they constantly feel like their vulnerability is out for everyone to see hence the guarded attitude.

^I've also noticed they are VERY opinionated and will hold on very tightly to how they think/feel about something. This results in having a reputation for being kinda bold and sharp (Aries 10th). Pro tip: do NOT question these native's morals or integrity unless you wanna see a very snappy side to them, they respond very very very badly if you even insinuate that they might be hypocritical in their values/what matters to them

The interpretation that Aquarius in the 4th house means you’re an outcasted black sheep in the family low-key doesn’t make sense to me tbh. Aquarius is the sign of camaraderie, friendship, inclusivity and community. All the people that I’ve seen with this placement were actually very bonded to their roots and considered their family (and the people they bonded with during childhood) to be "their people" (they also keep their friends close to heart). These natives do tend to distinct themselves as they grow up but this is due to Leo 10th house. I've noticed their family is in general very supportive of them or at the very least they received some input in their upbringing that made them feel special and/or like their uniqueness was celebrated. Feel free to share your opinion/experience tho

I've noticed Virgo Mars people have a perfect balance between being confident in themselves and fulling trusting their abilities while also staying humble and acknowledge room for improvement. Very mature and self-accountable and they're also great people to work with cause they are highly appreciative of good contribution

Sagittarius placements and their ability to be casually rude in a charming way??? 😭

Moon in the 10th house do not have a reputation for being emotional at all, it's quite the opposite they dislike exposing their feelings like that. A lot of their energy is spent trying to appear put-together and emotionally stable. The ones I've noticed have a reputation for being moody or sensitive are Mars in the 10th house

Venus-Moon aspects probably grew up in an environment that fed up this idea they had to be beautiful and conventionally likable in order to be worthy of love. These natives tend to base their self-worth on the amount of emotional validation they get from others and struggle telling the difference between kindness and love

A couple notes on everyone’s fave topic: 8th house synastry

We all know this overlay deals with power dynamics. On a general basis I’ve noticed it’s the planet person who tends to have the upper hand. Exeption: Moon. When your moon falls in someone’s 8th house you tend to be vulnerable one due to the soft nature of this planet, but the house person secretly feels more intimidated

You will NAWT be able to keep secrets from someone you have 8th house synastry with specially if you’re the house person. Sooner or later they’ll see through you, circumstances might force you to expose yourself or you’ll simply feel drawn to revealing the truth to them. With water synastry in general you will feel drawn to share more deep or hidden parts of yourself/your life but with the 8th house you can’t help it, like there’s almost an accusatory tension between the two that grows the more you try to hide something from them

Something I see no one mentioning about 8th house synastry is the planet person always feels intimidated by the house person's success. The planet person will try to take part in the house person's success by taking some credit and have a sense of control over what belongs to the house person, it's giving Kanye's "I made that bitch famous". At best the planet person would want to help boost the house person's endeavors. Either way, when someone's planets land on your 8th house, you will never feel like something is completely yours anymore, somehow the planet person will "take" something away from you that you can't get back making you feel like you owe them or they owe you something big (8th house=debt), which is why this overlay very often goes south and tends to be very depleting.

If we're talking business (which 8th house deals with that) the house person is likely to take a risk on the planet person, invest on them (can be money, time, resources, trust, etc) in hopes that it'll pay off. The house person is most likely to loose something from their involvement with the planet person, but they can also gain a lot from the planet person if the investment pays off. In either case, one could tend to exploit the other if there’s any ill intent from the individual

Water mars people are very smothering in their affection tbh. Once you’ve been chosen, get ready to be bombarded by their attention a bit more each time. Secret stalker vibes.This doesn’t always mean they love you tho, if underdeveloped they may want to “bond” in order to have emotional control over you and use you. For them it’s easy to get what they want through manipulation so leading people on or fooling around is something they tend to do a lot

Going back to the affection topic, water venus are smothering too but they go about their obsession devotion in a much more soft and non-domineering way where they give a lot of power away to their partner

People with Gemini+Scorpio placements in their chart embody the mischievous trickster archetype fr fr. They’re funny but also a menace. Have an ease to become that type of deceitful manipulator who thrives in chaos

I have a theory that your Moon represents the kind of bond or relationship you have with your mother but Ceres represents how your mother actually is

Capricorn and Scorpio placements are huge tsunderes imo 😭

Chiron in Sagittarius/9th house have become disappointed with religious and/or academic institutions. For them both systems are essentially flawed and don't work or don't make sense

+When it comes to religion I've seen a lot of them being atheist and skeptics. Some others still believed in god/universe/etc. but they did not want to support any stablished religious institution and instead have preferred to craft their own belief system. In both cases, they saw the institutionalization of believe systems as something that hindered their freedom of thought and expansion

+When it comes to academics a very similar thing happens. They felt like collage and the educational system restricted their mind instead of expanding it so they just preferred to walk their own path and find growth elsewhere. A friend of mine with this placement quit collage and the other people I've seen who did finish it all said they had a kinda dreadful and/or unfulfilling collage experience which they low-key regret

If you’ve ever felt powerless in the house where you have your pluto, that’s because you gave your power away to the opposite house. For example, if you have Pluto in the 5th house and you felt powerless when it comes to expression, your creativity, etc that’s because you gave too much power to the public opinion/peer pressure (11th house) and what they may say about you if you express yourself genuinely

Scorpio Moons always battle with that "am I a good person?", "am I a monster deep down?" inner conflict. They are more in touch with darker emotions and experiences than the average person so for them it's particularly easy to channel their shadow. This can often make them doubt their own integrity or think they are doomed to never feel happiness and inner peace. This is moon's debilitation for a reason, their inner emotional world is ruled by chaos and turmoil and they tend to be a bit too comfortable (moon) in toxicity and drama, nothing is ever light-hearted for them. If developed this ability of staying in touch with the shadow side of things can actually give them lots of awareness and resilience for the darker sides of the world as well as a very solid moral compass and compassion

Leo Moons likely had grandiose standards forced on them that inflated their self-importance. It's giving "mommy told me I am the best and most special of all" which is great but now they be carrying that mindset for the rest of their lives and this is where lot of their infamous sensitivity and fragile ego comes from cause not fulfilling these standards deeply hurts their heart. In consequence they tend to be more unprepared to accept humbling experiences that'll make them mature

virgo risings are funny!!!! I haven't seen anyone mention this, but every virgo rising I've met cracked me UP, they are so witty and never misse a chance to throw in a cheeky joke every 2 minutes. I think this is overlooked because they keep a rather awkward demeanor to them which often makes for a rather dry delivery. Best examples of this are Ryan Raynolds, Keanue Reeves, Emma Watson, Cole Sprouse...

Also, all Virgo risings I've met tend to come across as huge snobs so it's very common that people don't take their humor or friendliness seriously

Honestly I've noticed this theme with Virgo/6th house inner placements in general where their judgemental nature always makes them unfriendly or snarky to some degree. They can be the kind of people who are never happy with anything and always have a bone to pick.

My main theory as to why Leo risings are the most shy out of all Leo placements is because a lot of them grew up in very problematic and dysfunctional families (Scorpio 4th house) where they were shamed for showing vulnerability or being genuine (Cancer 12th house)

I’ve noticed Aries Suns and Capricorn Suns tend to relate a lot to their fathers, they tend to have very similar character traits as their fathers. For good or for bad their relationship with their father is always very important in their personality.

I find that LEO Suns and Sagittarius Suns always be having daddy issues tho like 😭😭😭😭

One thing about Capricorn is they can be literal billionaires and yet will still refuse to spend a dime on something they think is not worth it

Mutable Moons don’t commit 10000% to things, they’re the type to always have a foot out just in case. They're most likely to commit to things if they don't feel forced or expected to stay permanently

Cardinal energy is very consistent and responsable. People with prominent cardinal placements have a really developed sense of agency, focus and direction (imo this will be more obvious with moon, mars and asc). There's something about them that always gives me this put together "I've got this" kinda vibe, they always seem like they've got it together and always know what to do even when they're lost.

Fixed mercuries and their inability to understand or accept that two different points can be true

Sun/Leo in the 3rd house could want to have a nice car, an expensive or luxurious car from a well-known brand

I’ve seen people saying Venus-Mars conjunction gives it girl vibes. This is also HIGHLY true for Mars-ruled Venus (Aries/Scorpio Venus) or Venus-ruled Mars (Libra/Taurus Mars)

work by astrobydalia

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia

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azsazz · 7 months

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Body and Soul

Vampire!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon req: "Okay but imagine vamp Az fucking you from behind in front of a mirror but you can’t see his reflection, only the way your body is shaking from the way he’s making you feel, moaning in your ear about how pretty you look taking his cock, making you watch yourself orgasm again and again and again"

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, mirror sex, overstimulation, cnc, fingering, oral (F receiving), powerplay, dubcon.

Word Count: 2,974

Notes: Your honor I love him

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“Did you think he could fuck you better than I can, or were you just trying to upset me?” Azriel’s voice is like gravel against your skin. His hands are planted firmly on your hips, holding you to his body with such an ease that if you hadn’t known he had immortal strength, you’d be slipping right out your cracked bedroom door and dashing for the buttery light creeping into your room.

Your heart is so loud, beating so frantic, so harsh, that you’re afraid it might just jumpstart Azriel’s in his chest behind you.

It wasn’t your fault that the other vampires of his clan had taken an interest in you. You were one of the few females to attend this evening, and you were definitely the only human. They could probably scent you from the hall, across the acres separating their homes as you arrived with the shadowsinger. If Azriel hadn’t wanted them to talk to you, to flirt with you, he shouldn’t have brought you along.

Of course, it’s your fault.

Your fault for smiling at the golden skinned, bright haired male from Adriata, your fault for plucking a grape off of a skewer from the stocky Illyrian male with luscious locks who looked all too much like the vampire who had stolen you. Your fault for accepting the chalice filled nearly to the brim with a heady, warm, red cocktail that you thought might’ve been blood. You hadn’t taken a single sip, but rather done it to be polite to the important looking male with auburn hair and eyes that matched.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sure you didn’t, crow.” His voice is lined with anger, jealousy. Azriel has made it very clear who you are and what you mean, how you won’t ever escape him and how you should accept that fate. Your fingers tremble where they’re curled into your skirts as his golden eyes stare pins into your head. He has you turned toward the lone mirror in your room but his reflection doesn’t show. Instead of seeing the anger on his face you can feel it in the tension of his body, through corded muscles and hard fingers. “But you will learn, fast.”

His fingers trail the bodice of your dress and your breath hitches in your throat. You hate the way that your body seems to react to his closeness, the wet pooling between your legs and the way you press further into him without your knowledge.

Azriel continues on and you’re frozen, watching in the mirror as he pops open the button at the top of your dress. The full curve of your breasts appear, skin smooth and biteable. Your eyes shutter as his fingertips trace gently across the tops of them, gasping when he dips his hands into the fabric to get a fistful of your flesh.

“Oh,” you breathe as he skirts across your nipples. They harden beneath his rough touch and you clench your legs together to keep them from buckling.

His whisper is a taunt, breath hot against your skin. “You like that, don’t you?”

You clench your jaw, snapping your fallen lids open as you come to reality. Yes, some sick, twisted part of you might want this, want his hands on your body, his cock in your cunt, and his teeth in your neck, but you can’t. This male has stolen you away, taken you from everything you’ve once known and had once loved. You’re nothing now, nothing more than his human pet to play with and flaunt and fuck as he pleases.

“No,” you say, but your mind is screaming yes.

“The only person you’re lying to is yourself,” he taunts, nipping at your neck. It gives you goosebumps. As if to prove his statement, his hands find the center of your dress and he tugs. Buttons go flying and you squeal as your breasts fall from containment, but in the mirror it’s only you. “Watch what I’m going to your body,” his voice is a whisper of darkness that makes the candles flicker and shivers sprint up your spine. “You’ll see exactly how much you want this, crow.”

You can’t swallow past the lump in your throat. You’re left watching as he rids you of the rest of your clothes with ease, such strength but so gentle as his hands caress your skin. Each touch leaves your stomach twisting, yearning for more.

Everything stills when he removes himself from your body and circles you, gleaming eyes drinking you in like the summer sun he longs to feel across his face. You whimper as the hard press of his cock leaves you and mentally curse yourself. He shouldn’t be having this much of an effect on you, especially as his fingertips brush your hips but he places his entire palm across your abdomen as he stares down at you, dark hair hanging across his forehead and his dark eyelashes thick.

You think he might lean down, eat the space between you to press his lips to yours, but he holds back, studying you. You don’t know what for, and a part of you wants to duck your head and shy away from those intense eyes, but the other part of you wants to lift your chin and stare right back.

Azriel finds what he’s searching for, fang peeking out of his lip when he smirks wickedly. Your heart tumbles and a retort sits on the tip of your tongue but he’s lowering himself to his knees.

He helps you take a seat, and spreads your legs with little effort. He’s kneeling before you like he’s about to pray, to dip between your thighs and taste your slick like the holy water that burns him. His nostrils flare as he takes a long look, eyes flickering down your body until you’re sure that your cheeks are bloodred.

It’s too much, his look too heated and you need to break the tension. “I—”

“I want you to stay sitting,” he interrupts.

“Why?” you ask, arms already shaking with anticipation. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep yourself sitting, especially if he puts his head between your legs like you’re hoping.

His fangs flash before he can control himself, not used to anyone asking such questions.

“You’re going to watch how prettily you take my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. All from the view of this mirror,” he says, lowering himself further. He kisses the meat of your thigh roughly and you grunt, trying to pull it away but he takes each leg in his grasp and tugs them over his shoulders, toes brushing the skin of his wings. His eyelashes flutter but his stare is demanding. “Look at yourself. See how much you want this, want me, and maybe you’ll finally realize how much you want this.”

You want to bite back at him with some snarky retort but he’s licking a stripe up your center and you’re crying out at the sensation. Azriel hums and the vibrations stimulate your clit. Already, your head is thrown back on your shoulders and your breathing is uneven, all from one taste.

“Look at yourself, or there will be no more.”

No more? Isn’t that what you should want? Him to stop? It is, but your body is moving on its own, sliding closer to his mouth as your head straightens and you meet your own burning reflection in the mirror.

“More,” you demand, but it’s shaky at best.

You can feel his smirk against your skin as he dips his mouth again, dipping into your wet heat this time and tracing praise across your clit. He sucks, hard, and the noise that comes from you is broken, thighs pressing closed on his head and toes curling against his wings. It makes him shudder and you’ve won this one, but then he’s flicking his tongue so fast against your clit in time with your pounding heart, you almost can’t take it.

Azriel adds his fingers into the mix and you watch in the mirror how your cunt welcomes him. Your slick gleams in the reflection, his tongue still attacking your clit as he works one, then two, and a third into you, a steady pace until he’s curling his fingers into that bundle of nerves that makes your arms give out and your body writhe.

“Good gods,” you pant, hands finding his hair. You hold on tightly, grinding your cunt against his face. He feels good, too good. His centuries of practice have surely paid off.

Your chest heaves when he pulls away, eyes shut in bliss. You shouldn’t have wanted it, it shouldn’t have felt that good, but you’re still reeling in it, enjoying the post orgasm haze as he quickly undresses.

You don’t even understand what’s going on until he’s grabbing you and flipping you with such ease it shocks you, clearing your mind in an instant as you realize how you’ll never be able to fight against him and escape, his brute strength is impossibly superior to yours.

“Look,” he commands, pulling your head up with the fistfull of your hair he has. It strains deliciously in his fingers and your mouth falls open in a desperate gasp as he thrusts into you. Tears prick your eyes at the sensation, the frustration because the part of you that twinges with lust whenever he’s around wants to know if he’s enjoying this—you. You want to see him, watch the way his firmly set jaw twitches as he comes closer to his orgasm, the way that broad chest heaves and the length of his awfully long cock as he slides it almost all the way out only to fuck his way back into you—only his reflection doesn’t show. “Look at yourself, such a pretty little human, all wrecked and drunk off my cock. Tell me, crow. When they told you about the monsters lurking in the night, did they mention my fucking cock was the most dangerous of all?”

“No,” you pant, leaning further into his body. Your eyes roll back into your head as his arm moves across your stomach, cementing you to the front of his chest like you’ve always belonged. You can say that you hate him all you want, screaming it morning, noon, and night, but the fact of the matter is, is that your body fits near perfect against his and reacting to him in waves, pleasure building on top of pleasure in his presence.

“If they had,” he growls, tone low. It rumbles up your spine and you arch, head thrown back. Azriel towers over you, and you only catch a glimpse of his black hair dipping into his eyes before he’s wrenching your head straight and forcing you to look at yourself again. You can’t help but whine, but it melts into something languid as he hits the bundle of nerves, sensitive from your orgasms already. “Would you still have wandered into the forest that night?”

No, your mind screams at you. You wouldn’t have stumbled into the woods at all, had you had a choice, if you had known that he would be on the other side of that moonlit path. You would’ve much rather suffered in the human lands instead of letting him slowly set your soul on fire like this.

“Stop,” you cry, chest tight as you’re reminded of that night. You clamp your hands onto his, trying to claw his fingers from your body, but he’s unrelenting, distracting you with a kiss.

“There is no stopping this. I am going to be your pleasure, your pain, your laughter, and your solace. No one is going to worship you like I do. I am going to give you everything you need or nothing you want if you command it. I am the court that you thrive in and the home you never want to leave. I’m going to be the first thing that you see when the sun cracks through these windows and the last thing you see when the moon kisses the sky. I’m going to be the air that you breathe, the blood in your veins, until your beating heart stops by my lips and my lips alone.”

Your fingers twist tighter in his dark locks as you cum hard, his words consuming you. His sharp canines scrape against the skin of your throat and it only adds to the arousing sensation that’s wracking through your body. You’re shaking, unable to form dizzy thoughts into a coherent sentence as he continues his ministrations, so deeply into you that you swear you can feel him in your throat.

His confession, an onslaught of utter dominance, utter need. Azriel said it not as if you have an option in the matter. You’re going to be his and he’s going to give you everything you’ve yearned for but nothing in the human lands could ever compare. And even though you’ve hated the very marrow in his bones since you’ve met him, you can admit that the feeling of being wanted with every fiber of someone’s being is…nice.

“Azriel,” you cry, tears spilling down your cheeks. He licks them away with a growl. His thrusts are long and hard and he doesn’t slow, if anything, the clenching of your cunt around his cock as you cum again makes him move faster, harsher, because he’s going to take as many orgasms from you as he can until you’re so fucked out you won’t be able to try and escape. “Please.”

Your fingers are trembling from where they’ve fallen to your sides, digging deeply into his hips as you hold onto him for dear life. He smothers your mouth, stealing a kiss that ravages you, but you’re keening and whimpering against his lips from the sensitivity. “Take it, crow. I’m not done with you yet.”

But you can’t, not even when his fingers find your clit and start to rub soft circles, working you up again. You writhe against the sensation, drawing your fingers up in long scratches against the perfectly tan skin. It does nothing but spur him on, and with his mouth pressed firmly against yours, you resort to the only thing you can think of that might get him to stop.

You bite him.

Hard.

Azriel grunts, hips faltering once, before he buries himself deeply into you. You can feel the splitting on his skin, the burst of blood on your tongue, and his hands are snaking up your body and grabbing hold of your breasts, tweaking your nipples once before he’s ripping his mouth from yours. His eyes are dark, pupils thick and you swallow the heady mouthful of blood harshly, realizing that your actions haven’t upset him in the slightest.

He looks…hungrier.

“Did that satisfy you, crow?”

Your breath sticks in your throat, watching intently as his tongue darts out to lap up the stray blood. The sight of it reminds you of how he was between your legs, licking up your wetness like it was somehow better than the blood he lives off of.

It makes your cunt clench and his grin turns purely wild, showing off those sharp teeth, painted crimson.

Azriel manhandles you to the floor, ignoring your whimpers and pleas for him to stop. Your cunt hurts, but the warmth dripping between your legs with his hot cock pressed tightly inside of you feels all too good.

His heavy body pins you face down. He’s a warm wight, and his hand slides around your throat, lifting your head and forcing you to stare at yourself in the mirror. You look utterly wrecked; fucked out beyond belief. Tears staining your reddened cheeks, lips swollen from the harsh kiss you’ve shared with the vampire plastered to your back. Your hair is a knot at the top of your head, unruly from his relentless pulling. You can see the imprint of his hand against your skin when Azriel holds your neck firmer, pinching off your airflow to cut off your incessant pleaing.

Even though your body feels like giving out, the way the new position makes his cock fit into you causes you to see stars. It could quite possibly be the lack of air you’re able to take in, dark suns bursting behind your eyelids, but his cock is hitting every spot that you need, and the hand planted beside your head snakes down to rub through the slickness between your thighs again, right to your clit.

Azriel’s not gentle. His motions become jerkier, breath heavy against your cheek as his orgasm builds. He’s losing control, and fast. He pinches your clit before soothing it over with a brush of his thumb, and he nips at your skin, softly at first, then harsher, but not drawing blood, never drawing blood because he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to stop himself should he get a taste of you.

He’ll drink you fucking dry if he does.

Black smothers your vision and you can hardly see yourself in the mirror. Your hands are pinned beneath your body, completely at his disposal. But there’s another orgasm building with his fervent fingers and raucous thrusts. Against your better mind, you cum again, harder than the last.

Azriel groans, releasing your neck from his grasp, letting your body slacken as he plants both hands to drive into you until he’s falling over the edge himself, crowing your name with a caw that rattles the walls of his aging manor. Your body goes slack as you gasp, the rush of air adding to the deliverance of what you hope to be your final orgasm of the night.

He leans in close, breathing a caress of darkness against the shell of your ear.

“You are my solace, am I not yet yours?”

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel x reader #vampire!azriel #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel/reader #azriel smut

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dawn-moths · 23 days

Text

Tomura x Reader

word count: 1,300+

(You tend to Tomura’s dry, cracked hands and itchy skin while the two of you watch a movie.)

disclaimer/content warning: no warnings apply! just a lil sfw drabble in honor of tomura’s birthday. also reader has a technology/hacking quirk. enjoy!

The light from the television cast the room in a pale glow, muted colors shifting from blue to green and back to blue again as the scene of the movie oscillated between the perspective of the two main characters— the protagonist and antagonist about to come to a head.

Tomura was enraptured, unable to tear his unblinking gaze from the screen as the tense music began to pick up speed, the cuts between the two opposing sides getting faster and faster until they met on the same ground, the final fight about to build to a crescendo.

You, however, were currently focused on something much more important than a dramatic psychological thriller you’d already seen a million times.

Because, being carefully massaged between your soft little hands was one of Tomura’s big, rough palms, the skin cracked and flaking with irritation.

“Tomu…” you murmured, sort of with a concerned, sympathetic coo. “I told you… you don’t need to wait until they’re this bad to come to me. I can do it nightly, I don’t mind.”

All he gave in response was a simple hum and a barely detectable nod. You felt his hand tense slightly in yours as the fight took a turn and the villain got the upper hand. You knew that’s who he was rooting for, though, unfortunately, very few films ended with the bad guys winning in the end.

You continued to work the first layer of lotion into one of his hands, then reached over to grab the other from his lap, giving it the same treatment. It was a thin, lightweight hand cream that, for you, normally did the trick. In the colder months, maybe you would have to reapply it two or three times a day, at most, but for Tomura, you’d gathered every lotion, cream, and salve within your moisturizing arsenal to treat him with.

All it took was one look at his hands to know it was going to be a lengthy process.

“Just tell me if any of it starts to burn or sting,” you instructed him, finishing with his left hand and retaking up the right one where, just as you’d thought, the first layer of lotion had already soaked all the way in and left his hand still feeling dry, albeit slightly less rough. “And if you notice any unusual redness by tomorrow you need to—”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He appreciated your help, truly he did, but he wasn’t used to having someone fuss over him like this. The care you offered was still a foreign thing to him.

He remedied the harsher edges of his voice then by looking over and giving a small grin, chapped lips beseeching of your attention as well. Lightly squeezing your hand in his, he said, “I’ll let you know.”

That seemed to placate you, for the time being at least, and you resumed your work tending to his hands.

“You better…” you muttered with a crooked grin.

Now moving onto the second layer, you flipped open the cap of a thicker, slightly stronger eczema cream. It would help lock the moisture in better than the surface layer that you’d just finished applying. It was your favorite for whenever you, yourself, encountered any stubborn dry patches on your own skin. A few days of this stuff and your ailment would disappear. You figured it would take a few weeks to have even half the effect on Tomura, though, it wasn’t so much the appearance of his skin that concerned you. It was more so how the constant itching sensation affected him.

It was painful, you could tell. It showed in the way he flinched and hissed and scratched himself raw, carving new scars over old ones. It hurt you to watch him hurting, so whatever you could do to help him feel more comfortable in his own skin, you were more than willing to try.

“Ah, man…” you heard Tomura grumble, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “They always let the heroes win. So predicable…”

He turned his attention away from the movie— there was only about ten minutes left now anyway— and instead decided to focus more on you now.

“What’s this one do?” He half-mockingly, half-curiosity inquired, plucking up step three of your six step lotion lineup for the night. He narrowed his eyes as he read the packaging, smirk widening as he asked with a bit of a chuckle, “And what the fuck is colloidal oatmeal?”

You swiped it from his grasp, motioning for him to give you back his hand.

“It helps your skin!” was all you could offer in defense. And then, before he could tease you any further, you said, “Now stop stalling and sit still.”

To humor you, Tomura complied, though the way his entire body relaxed the more you lulled him with the soothing circles you massaged into his hand spoke to just how much he’d needed this. Craved it. He never asked for it himself, but whenever you told him to sit down and let you tend to him, he never tried to argue.

“Y’know, I’ve been trying to do some research,” you eventually admitted, “and I think I might’ve found a few products that could really give you some relief in the long term. They’re pricey but…”

“Well,” Tomura shrugged. “That’s what shoplifting was invented for.”

At that, you gave a gentle chuckle. “Well, some of these things are prescription only…” You shot him a coy glance. “Which is why I’ve also been researching how to commit prescription fraud.”

“Ah,” he replied, perking with sarcasm. “Glad to see your robbery skills are leveling up.”

You let out another laugh, opened the cap to the next ointment. “Forging medical documents might be the boss battle,” you joked.

“Yeah…” he sighed, something in his expression softening then. “But if anyone can beat it, it’s gonna be you.”

You felt yourself warming to his praise. You were his favorite little hacker, after all, your quirk allowing you to enter into any kind of technology— the internet included— and navigate through it as if it were a physical space, your consciousness traveling into the coding and giving you the ability to alter things, to fidget with and rearrange the contents like they were items on a shelf or paintings on a wall.

By now, you were nearing the end of your moisturizing process, a pile of previous lotions, potions, oils, and hand creams collecting on your side of the couch.

“How does it feel?” you asked him. He hadn’t complained about any discomfort, but you still wanted to make sure.

“Mm, pretty good, I think,” he answered. Though, what he really liked most about these exchanges wasn’t necessarily the effect it had on his skin, but rather getting to have your full attention, privately, away from the other members of the League.

He liked how meticulously you tended to his hands, making sure to get every inch from fingertips to wrists.

He liked how you touched him with such gentle care, dare it be compared to love.

“Good,” you smiled, interlocking your fingers with his as soon as you were done. After these sessions, your palms were even softer than they'd been at the start.

You snuggled against his shoulder, resting your head against it even though it was a bit boney. His hand grasped yours just a little tighter, a silent plea for you to stay here, like this, with him, for just a while longer.

“Thank you…” Tomura eventually muttered, sounding halfway to dozing off. You were starting to drift too, so you almost missed it. But once it registered to you you grinned, softly nuzzling against him.

“Anytime,” you murmured.

Anytime.

#happy birthday to our boooooy!!!#I just wanna take care of him 🥺#tomura shigaraki #tomura x reader #tomura x you #tomura x y/n #boku no hero academia fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #my hero academia fanfiction #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #drabble

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dreamwritesimagines · 9 months

Text

Garden of Secrets [33] - Stinging Nettle

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: The hours before an important ball can be very tense.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence.

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Though attending parties hadn’t been a habit of yours up until you got married, you’d grown quite fond of them fast. Maybe it was the entertaining conversations, the company of your friends, drinks, or perhaps the overall free atmosphere that one could not have at a ball but now that you were here, you were now beginning to realize how much you had missed it.

“You seem to be in deep thought.”

Your head shot up and you turned around to see Lord Easton at the entrance of the balcony you were standing in. You smiled at him, then lifted the glass in your hand a bit, the chatter and the music coming from inside reaching the balcony as well.

“I may have drunk a bit too much,” you admitted. “Wanted to get some fresh air.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” you said and he closed the balcony door behind him, then approached you as you turned again to watch the beautiful view under the night sky. He placed his glass on the marble railing of the balcony and you stole a look at him.

“They’re having some sort of a sketching competition back in there.”

“Oh I saw it,” he said. “I think I will sit that one out.”

“You don’t want to practice?” you joked and he chuckled.

“I probably should, now that you mention it.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “I mean who else should practice if not the famed artist with thousands of admirers and many credits to his name?”

“No one is ever too good to practice,” he told you. “Especially an artist.”

You thought for a moment, then turned to him.

“Lord Easton—”

“Gordon,” he corrected you. “Your husband is a good friend of mine, and I consider you and I friends as well.”

You smiled slightly.

“Very well,” you said. “May I ask a favor of you, Gordon?”

“Of course.”

“My aunt is throwing a ball tomorrow,” you said. “And if you dropped by even for a short time, it would make her very happy. Not to mention the ton admires you so much and…you know how it goes.”

He smiled and bowed his head slightly.

“It would be my honor and privilege,” he said, making you beam.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

A giggle escaped from your lips.

“Oh thank you!” you said. “She will be so happy. I’ll um— I’ll send you the invitation tomorrow?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “And there’s no need to thank me, I assure you.”

You sipped your drink, then stole a look at him.

“Does it ever tire you?”

“Attending balls?”

“No, the…” you motioned with your hands. “The attention from the ton, all the time.”

He hummed, reaching out to grab his glass to swirl the drink in it.

“Occupational hazard,” he said with a smile, making you laugh. “I mean it has its moments. I don’t mind it most of the time, balls are a way of socializing for example so that’s expected, but sometimes when I’m by myself on the street, I simply want to observe the crowd in quiet.”

“I could never be an artist,” you said, shaking your head and he raised his brows.

“You don’t enjoy attention?”

“I hate it,” you admitted. “I experienced it when I first debuted, with the suitors and such and I’m just…It’s not for me.”

“You might have to get used to some attention though,” he said, making you frown.

“How so?”

“Have you seen your husband’s works?” he joked. “Once he gets into the Academy and people start seeing how talented he is…”

“Benedict is good with all that,” you said. “No issues there, people already pay lots of attention to him, he’s used to that.”

“You’re his ultimate inspiration,” he reminded you. “People will be curious about you as well.”

You paused for a second, then shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s different than being an artist,” you said, trying to ignore the way your cheeks were burning and turned your head to check out what was happening inside. They seemed to have finished with their competition judging by the familiar faces in the room, so you nodded in the direction of the room.

“I’ll go back inside,” you said. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment,” he said and you clinked your glass with his, then made your way back inside. Your gaze fell on Benedict and Margery who were having a conversation at the corner of the room and your stomach did an unpleasant flip, but you shook your head at yourself and made your way to them. Margery cleared her throat when she saw you out of the corner of her eye and gave Benedict a warning look but it was gone so fast that you couldn’t even decide whether you had actually seen it before Benedict turned his head.

“Hello darling,” he said, but his soft tone did nothing to soothe the insecurity shooting through you.

“Am I interrupting something?” you asked, making Benedict shake his head. “Because I can just—”

“Oh you’re not interrupting anything,” Margery said with a laugh. “I was just giving Benedict a hard time because he had the audacity to badmouth Byron’s poetry in front of me.”

Benedict made a face. “I cannot believe you actually like his poetry.”

Margery heaved a sigh and turned to you.

“I give up,” she announced, making the corners of your lips twitch. “I’m going to need more drinks, excuse me.”

She walked away from you both and you pursed your lips together, then looked up at Benedict.

“Are you sure I didn’t interrupt?”

“Not at all,” he assured you with a small grin and entwined his fingers with yours, making your heart skip a beat. “Are you having fun?”

“I am, and I kind of missed it actually,” you admitted. “Coming to parties and such.”

“Did you?”

You nodded. “One would think you’re a bad influence, you hedonist artist.”

He gave you that lopsided grin. “Me, a bad influence?” he asked. “You’re the one with the knife.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yes but you’re the one with the debauchery.”

“Fair point,” he said and you repressed a laugh.

“Who won the sketching competition by the way?”

“Felix,” he said. “Lucy gave him full points.”

“Of course she did,” you said, stealing a look at Lucy who was now talking to Margery. “So Byron hm?”

“Huh?” Benedict asked before frowned. “Oh yeah! Margery admires his lines a lot for some reason.”

“Right,” you said, that uncomfortable feeling twisting at your stomach again but before you could say anything else, Benedict pulled at your hand gently.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you the winning sketch, Felix is very proud of it.”

You and Benedict had returned home around dawn and Benedict had an appointment with Gordon in the morning and Anthony in the afternoon, so by the time you woke up, he had already left home to meet Gordon. You had asked to take your breakfast in the drawing room as you tried to decide what the best time would be to drop by your uncle’s home before tonight’s ball to see if they needed any help.

Perhaps afternoon?

You sipped your tea while reading your book and as you bit into your toast, Paula entered the drawing room.

“Ma’am, Miss Harlowe is here.”

“Oh?” you said, putting down your toast and dusted the crumbs off your hands before standing up. Lottie stepped into the drawing room and made her way to you to pull you into a hug.

“Good morning!”

“Hello there,” you said with a smile and pulled back to look at her. “You look happy.”

“I am happy!” she said. “I have news for you.”

“That’s wonderful!” you said “Paula, can you bring Lottie some biscuits and tea?”

“Of course ma’am,” she said and walked out of the room, and you and Lottie sat down on the sofa.

“What’s the good news?” you asked and she squealed, shifting her weight.

“I wanted to tell you before the ball tonight,” she said. “And Tony will tell Benny and Colin this afternoon but I couldn’t wait until then.”

“Couldn’t wait for what?”

“We’re getting married!” she exclaimed and your eyes widened, a gasp getting caught in your throat.

“What?!”

“Yes and we will tell the rest of the family tonight—”

“Wh-how?!” you asked as a happy laugh escaped from your lips and you hugged her. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“You must tell me everything from the beginning,” you said as you pulled back. “How did he ask? When did he ask?”

An abashed look crossed her face and she cleared her throat.

“Well, um…” she said, nibbling on her lip. “It’s sort of—you must first promise me you will never tell anyone.”

“Of course I will not,” you assured her as a maid walked in with a tray of biscuits and tea. You thanked her, and watched her walk away before turning to Lottie. “Tell me.”

“A week ago.”

“A week ago?!” you asked. “And you didn’t tell me? Wait, is this payback for—”

“No no, it isn’t!” she cut you off. “Of course not.”

“Then?”

She took a deep breath, then sipped her tea.

“Do you remember how Tony and I left Bess’s ball early?”

You tilted your head. “Yes.”

“Well we wanted to talk more you see, and I’m very familiar with sneaking into Bridgerton House because I used to do that a lot when I was little, and everyone was either asleep or at the ball,” she said, making you raise your brows. “And we…we did talk.”

A small smirk pulled at your lips.

“Oh?” you asked. “You sneaked into his house just to talk?”

She repressed a smile. “At first yes.”

“Then?”

“You and I had a conversation earlier that day,” she said, shyness apparent in her tone. “And you said that it felt divine, and I already knew Anthony and I are in love, and…”

Your jaw dropped and you let out a laugh.

“Oh wow.”

“And then he asked me to marry him.”

Alright, this was official; you were the only one who wasn’t consummating her marriage.

“But a week ago?” you asked, trying to focus. “You’ve been engaged for a week and neither of you told—”

“It was my idea,” she said. “I asked him to wait for a week.”

“Why?”

“Well…” she heaved a sigh. “I wanted to tell all of you yes, but Colin was still very heartbroken over what happened with Miss Marina and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings accidentally. You know, first Benny, then Daphne, now Tony finding love and not Colin, at least yet.”

You stared at her, warmth filling your chest. “You waited for a week so that Colin wouldn’t feel bad?”

She nodded.

“He’s like a brother to me,” she said. “We all grew up together.”

You reached out to squeeze her hand. “Oh Lottie…”

“But we will tell our families tonight!” she said. “And Tony will tell them beforehand, and I’m telling you now.”

“I’m glad you are,” you said with a laugh. “Well I’m so happy for you! I told you he would propose within the season.”

“I still cannot believe it,” she said. “I’m the happiest person in the world.”

You grinned at her.

“And I take it your night was divine?”

She gasped, a giggle escaping from her lips. “Y/N!”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. “I mean you’re marrying him so—”

“It was more than divine,” she said, biting on her lip in embarrassment. “It was perfect.”

Oh well, you were going to take her word for it.

Hers and Daphne’s and your aunt’s and Benedict’s, to be more specific. Considering everyone else had experienced it but you, you could only believe them instead of seeing it for yourself.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you said, a smile warming your face and she shifted on the sofa.

“The ton will not be very nice, I think,” she said. “They weren’t nice when they thought Benny and I were in courtship, or when I was in actual courtship with Tony, and now that we’re engaged, I can’t help but think—”

“Lottie,” you interrupted her. “What the ton thinks does not matter at all. Let them speak, they do little else anyway.”

She nodded slowly.

“I just…” she trailed off. “I just wish they knew how in love we are.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“They will,” you said. “Never mind them. Now, tell me what you’re planning for the wedding.”

By the time Benedict got back home from his meeting with Gordon, it was nearly noon and Lottie had already left. You had promised her you would be her maid of honor and help her with everything concerning the wedding, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited for it. Lottie had asked for your help with her wedding bouquet and the flowers for the wedding breakfast, and you were trying to come up with different combinations when you heard a knock on the door and lifted your head to see Benedict.

“Oh hello,” you said, closing your notebook before he could see the flower arrangement ideas you were writing down. He gave you a happy smile.

“Hey,” he said and stepped inside. “Working on something?”

“Maybe,” you said with a smirk. “Scared I will become your artistic rival?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you,” he teased, making you giggle. He walked towards you to fling himself on the sofa next to you, then reached out to grab a biscuit from the plate on the small coffee table.

“How is Gordon?”

“He’s fine,” he said. “I think he’s working on a painting. The gala should be fun.”

“The gala?” you asked. “They hold galas for only one painting?”

“When it’s the painting of that big of an artist, yes.”

“Are you looking forward to your own galas?” you asked, making him grin.

“Let me get one painting into the Academy first, and we’ll build from there,” he replied and you shot him a look.

“I’ll remind this to you on your gala,” you mused and tilted your head. “I’m assuming I will be invited?”

“You’ll be the guest of honor,” he told you and you let out a laugh.

“I like the sound of that.”

“How about you?” he asked. “How was your day?”

“Rather interesting,” you said. “Are you meeting Anthony and Colin after this?”

He nodded, biting into his biscuit.

“Apparently Anthony has something he wants to say to us.”

“Wonder what that might be,” you muttered, trying to keep a straight face. Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows?” he said. “And you? Any plans before the ball tonight?”

“I’ll visit auntie to see if she needs any help before people arrive,” you said. “I’ll get back around the evening, get dressed here and then we can go together.”

“Do you need any help before that?”

You bit back a smirk. “I can handle auntie,” you said. “Besides, I think today will be hectic enough for you.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said and he narrowed his eyes, his whole attention on you.

“Wait, what do you know?”

“Nothing at all,” you said, feigning innocence. “It’s merely a hunch. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be on your way anyway? “

A chuckle climbed up his throat. “Are you trying to get rid of me, dear wife?”

Your jaw dropped.

“No!” you exclaimed. “I’m just saying, Anthony isn’t exactly known for his endless patience.”

He popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. “He should learn, I heard people say it’s a virtue.”

“Oh is that so?” you said with a huff of laughter spilling from your lips. “You know a lot about patience then?”

“Is this the part you call me the ton’s horizontal refreshment again?”

“If you’re going to claim to be a patient person, yes,” you pointed out, making him clutch at his chest as if he was heartbroken.

“Ouch,” he said. “I am a patient person.”

“You are the perfect picture of hedonism, that’s what you are.”

“Well hedonism is a bit of a—”

“Drinking, partying,” you said, counting with your fingers. “Being very intimate with a lot of ladies…”

The tips of his ears went pink and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know what, you’re probably right,” he said after a pause. “I shouldn’t keep Anthony waiting.”

“You’re going to avoid this conversation just like that?”

“Judging by how our earlier conversations on this went, I’m taking my leave before you ask me—”

“Before I ask you how exactly it was like during those parties?”

“That yes,” he pointed out and pushed himself off of the sofa as you repressed a laugh. He leaned in to kiss the top of your head, making your heart skip a beat.

“See you in the evening,” he murmured and walked out of the room. You were painfully aware of the smile on your face, and you dragged the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip before you heaved a sigh and slipped a little on the sofa, leaning your head back.

You knew that Teddy had stayed at Josie and Andrew’s house last night because your uncle’s house was absolute chaos because of the upcoming ball, people working day and night. Not only that, the last you heard Andrew was letting him ride his pony inside the house so you were quite certain Teddy had no issues with the preparations of the ball.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he began insisting on staying there half of the week to be honest.

With the way your aunt had been working to make this ball perfect, you could only hope that everything would go well tonight. Almost everyone you knew was going to be there, so you were sure that it was going to be fun.

Now all you had to do was to convince your aunt of that.

The carriage stopped in front of the house and you made your way past the gate, but instead of going into the house you figured you could check on your garden first. So you passed by the house to reach the backyard, then tilted your head when you saw your aunt there, talking to the gardener.

“Auntie?” you called out and she turned around, a look of surprise flashing over her face.

“Y/N my dear!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see if you needed any help before tonight,” you answered. “And to see the garden while I’m at it.”

“Oh that’s sweet of you,” she said and came to hug you, then pulled back to look at you better. “No need for that, almost all the preparations are finished.”

“In that case, can I see the ballroom?” you asked with a laugh. “I’m curious, you’ve been working on it for so long.”

She hesitated for a moment, then waved a hand in the air. “What would be the surprise then?”

You huhed.

“That’s fair,” you said. “Anyways, I have a surprise guest for the ball, you will lose your mind when you see him and so will the ton—”

“Y/N, perhaps you should go home and get some rest,” your aunt cut you off almost in a distracted manner. “It’ll be a long night tonight, you know?”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright auntie?”

“…Of course,” she said after a pause. “Just—you know, preparing a ball is rather stressful.”

“I can imagine,” you said. “One of the many reasons why I will never throw a ball I think.”

She smiled at you, but it faded when her eyes found something over your shoulder. You pulled your brows into a frown and turned around to follow her line of sight, but as soon as you did, you froze. You could feel your whole body stiffening, your heart leaping to your throat as you stared at the familiar face who had the audacity to smile at you, that throbbing pain in your wrist coming back in full force.

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You weren’t sure how you found your voice, but somehow you managed to speak through frozen lips.

“Hello father.”

Chapter 34

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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suzukiblu · 3 months

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WIP excerpt; weird Kryptonian bonding rituals.

“This just not how I expected to become a dad,” Lois mutters under her breath, putting her hands in her hair. “Seriously, I was going to get a Pulitzer first. How am I supposed to be a dad without a Pulitzer?!”

“You were ever expecting to be a ‘dad’?” Jimmy asks, raising an eyebrow at her. Lois glares back at him.

“You know what I mean, Jimmy!” she hisses. “A parent! Any kind of a parent!”

“What’s a Pulitzer?” Conner asks curiously.

“The Pulitzer Prize!” Lois says, gesturing dramatically with both hands and starting to pace. “It’s one of the most distinguished awards in journalism! It’s been going since 1917! It’s a huge honor and a major achievement and–!”

“What’s it have to do with being a dad?” Conner interrupts, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Lois . . . pauses.

“Um,” she says.

“Probably nothing,” Jimmy says with a shrug. “Like. Almost definitely nothing.”

“Then why’s it matter?” Conner asks, still looking puzzled. Lois puts both of her hands over her face.

“Oh my god, I am my dad,” she says despairingly. “I think my career matters that much? Seriously?! Conner’s not gonna care if I have a Pulitzer or not if I’m a bad dad to get a Pulitzer! Oh my god, what am I doing with my life?!”

“Having a crisis, apparently,” Jimmy says. “And, like, some serious reprioritizing.”

“I don’t think taking pride in your work is a ‘bad dad’ thing,” Clark says. Though having a kid is a reprioritizing-level situation, he thinks. Definitely when they’re a surprise kid. “That’s setting a good example for Conner, really. Just, you know . . . don’t ignore him to kidnap and illegally detain people because you think they might have something to do with a theoretical invasion, and I think you’ll probably be fine? Probably?”

“Yeah, the invasion thing really seemed important to, like. Everybody who was working on me,” Conner says as he sneaks another honey bun. He’s adorable about it, so Clark doesn’t stop him. “They kinda suck, though, sooooo . . . I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you were gonna invade them a little. Just saying.”

“No one’s doing any invading,” Clark says immediately, then feels awkward because, well, technically–“I mean, I don’t think anyone’s doing any invading. I’m not! I’m very much not doing any invading! Ever!”

“Are you sure?” Conner looks disappointed.

“No alien invasions until you’re eighteen,” Lois says. “. . . or until we figure out how old you should count as being.”

Conner pouts.

. . . they could probably invade just one dubiously-ethical lab, Clark thinks, if Conner really–

“No, Clark,” Jimmy says. “I know that look, man. We don’t need any more angry government dudes or MIB-types after you, we’ve got enough of those already! Like, way too many!”

“I think any is ‘too many’, in this case,” Lois says, looking sour.

#wip: weird kryptonian bonding rituals #long post

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physalian · 4 months

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Humanizing Your Characters (And Why You Should)

To humanize a character is not to contort an irredeemable villain into the warped funhouse mirror reflection of a hero in the last 30 seconds to gain “narrative subversion” points. To humanize is not to give said villain a tragic backstory that validates every bad choice they make in attempt to provide nuance where it does not deserve to be.

To humanize a character, villain or otherwise, is to make them flawed. Scuff them up, give them narrative birthmarks and scars and imperfections. Whether it’s your hero, their love interest, the comic relief, the mentor, the villain, the rival, these little narrative details serve to make all your literary babies better.

Why should you humanize your characters?

To do this means to write in details beyond those that service the plot, or the themes, or the motifs, morals, foreshadowing, or story. These might be (and usually are) entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So, if I wrote lengthy diatribes on pacing and why every detail must matter, and character descriptions and thematic importance, why am I now suggesting go free-for-all on the fluff?

Just like real people have quirks and tics and beliefs and pet peeves that serve our no greater purpose, so should fictional people. Your average reader doesn’t have the foggiest idea what literary devices are beyond metaphor, simile foreshadowing, and anecdote, but they can tell when the author is using motif and theme and all the syntactical marvels because it reads that much richer, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

And, for shipping fodder, these tiny little details are what help your audience fall in love with the character. It doesn’t even have to be in a book – Taylor Swift (whether you like her or not) never fills her music with sexual innuendo or going clubbing. She tells stories filled with human details like dancing in the refrigerator light. People can simultaneously relate to these very specific and vivid experiences, and say “not that exactly, but man this reminds me of…” and that’s (part of) the reason her music is so popular.

What kinds of narratives need these details?

All of them. Visual media, audio, written, stage play. Now, to what degree and excess you apply these details depends on your tone, intended audience, and writing style. If your style of writing is introspection heavy, noir character drama, you might go pretty heavy on the character design.

But even if you’re writing a kids book with a scant few paragraphs of setting descriptors and internal narration, or you’re drawing a comic book – if you have characters you want people to care about, do this.

Animators, particularly, are very adept at humanizing non-human characters, because, unlike live acting, every single stroke of the pen is there with intent. They use their own reflections for facial references, record their own movements to draw a dance, and insert little bits of themselves into signature character poses so you know that *that* animator did this one.

How to humanize your characters.

I’m going to break this down into a couple sections: Costume/wardrobe, personality, beliefs/behavior/superstitions, haptics/proxemics/kinesics, and voice. They will all overlap and the sheer variety and possibilities are way too broad for me to capture every facet.

Costumes and Wardrobe

In the film Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where, after Boromir is slain by the Uruk-Hai, Aragorn takes Boromir’s Gondorian vambraces to wear in his honor, and in honor of their shared country. He wears them the rest of the trilogy. The editing pays no extra attention to them beyond a split second of Aragorn tightening the straps, it never lingers on them, never reminds you that they’re there, but they kept it in nonetheless. His actor also included a hunting bow that didn't exist in the book because he's a roamer, a ranger, and needs to be able to feed himself, along with a couple other survival tools.

Aragorn wears plenty of other symbolic bits of costume – the light of the Evenstar we see constantly from Arwen, the Lothlorien green cloaks shared by the entire Fellowship, his re-forged sword and eventual full Gondorian regalia, but all those are Epic Movie Moments that serve a thematic purpose.

Taking the vambraces is just a small, otherwise insignificant character moment, a choice made for no other reason than that’s what this character would do. That’s what makes him human, not an archetype.

When you’re writing these details and can’t rely on sneaking them into films, you have to work a little harder to remind your audience that they exist, but not too often. A detail shifts from “human” to “plot point” when it starts to serve a purpose to the themes and story.

Inconsequentiality might be how a character ties, or doesn’t tie their shoelaces, because they just can’t be bothered so they remain permanent knots and tripping hazards. It might be a throw-away line about how they refuse to wear shorts and strictly stick to long pants because they don’t like showing off their legs. It might be perpetually greasy hair from constantly running their fingers through it with stress, or self-soothing. A necklace they fidget with, or a ring, a belt they never bother to replace even though they should, a pair of lucky socks.

Resist the urge to make it more meaningful than “this is just how they are”. If I’m using the untied shoelaces example – in Spiderverse, this became a part of the story’s themes, motifs, and foreshadowing, and doesn’t count. Which isn’t bad! It’s just not what I’m talking about.

Personality

In How to Train Your Dragon, Toothless does not speak. All his personality comes from how he moves, the noises he makes, and the expressions on his face. There’s moments, like in the finale, when his prosthetic has burned off and Hiccup tells him to hold on for a little bit longer, and you can clearly see on his face that he’s deeply uncertain about his ability to do so. It’s almost off the screen, another blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. Or the beat of hesitation before he lets Hiccup touch him in the Forbidden Friendship scene. Or the irritated noise he makes when he’s impatiently waiting for Hiccup to stop chatting with his dad because they have a giant dragon to murder. Or when he slaps Hiccup with his ear fin for flying them into a rock spire.

None of those details *needed* to exist to endear you to his character or to serve the scenes they’re in. The scenes would carry on just fine without them. He’s a fictional dragon, yes, but these details make him real.

Other personality tics you could include might be a character who gets frustrated with tedious things very quickly and starts making little inteligible curses under their breath. Or how they giggle when they’re excited and start bouncing on their toes. Maybe they have a tic where they snap their fingers when they’re concentrating, trying to will an idea into existence. Or they stick their tongue out while they work and get embarrassed when another character calls them on it. They roll around in their sleep, steal blankets, drool, leave dishes in the sink or are neurotic with how things must be organized. They have one CD in their car, and actually use that CD player instead of the phone jack or Bluetooth. They sing in the shower, while they cook, or while they do homework, no matter how grating their voice.

They like the smell of new shoes or Sharpies. They hate the texture of suede or velvet or sticky residues. They never pick their socks up. They hate the overhead light in their room and use 50 lamps instead. They hate turning into oncoming traffic or don’t trust their backup camera. They collect Funko Pops and insist there’s always room for more.

And about a million others.

Beliefs, Behaviors, and Superstitions

*If you happen to be writing a story where superstitions have merit, maybe skip this one.* Usually, inevitably, these evolve into character centerpieces and I can’t actually think of one off the top of my head that doesn’t become this beyond the ones we all know. A few comedic examples do come to mind:

The Magic Conch in “Club Spongebob” and the sea-bear-proof dirt circle in “The Camping Episode”

Dean Winchester’s fear and panic-driven actions in “Yellow Fever” and “Sam, Interrupted”

The references to the trolls that steal left-foot socks in How to Train Your Dragon

I’m not a fan of wasting time writing a religious character doing their religious thing when Plot Is Happening, but smaller things are what I’m talking about. Like them wearing a cross/rosary and touching it when they’re nervous. Having a specific off-beat prayer, saying, or expression because they don’t believe in cursing.

The classic ones like black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, salt, sidewalk cracks can all be funny. Athletes have plenty, too, and some of them, particularly in baseball culture, are a bit ridiculous. Not washing socks or uniforms, having a team idol they donate Double Bubble to and also rub their toes. A specific workout routine, diet, team morale dance.

Other things, too. A character who’s afraid to go back downstairs once the lights are off, or fear the basement or the backyard shed. Or they’re really put-off by this old family photo for no reason other than how glassy their eyes look and it’s creepy. They like crystals, dreamcatchers, star signs, tarot, or they absolutely do not under any circumstances.

They believe in all the tried and true ways of predicting the weather like a grizzled old sailor. They believe in ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, doppelgangers, fairies. They talk to the cat statue in their kitchen and named it Fudge Pop. They whisper to the spirit that possessed the fridge so it stops making all that racket, and half the time, it works every time. They wear yellow for good luck or carry a rabbit’s foot. They’re not religious at all but still throw prayers out to whoever’s listening because, you know, just in case. They sit by their window sill and talk to the moon and the stars and pretend like they’re in a music video when they’re driving through the city in the rain.

Haptics, Proxemics, and Kinesics

These are, for all you non-communication and psych majors out there, touch and physical contact, how they move, and how they move around other people.

Behold, your shipping fodder.

Two shining examples of proxemics in action are the famous “close talker” episode of Seinfeld (of which every communication major has been subjected to) and Castiel’s not understanding of personal space (and human chronemic habits) in Supernatural.

These are how a character walks, if they’re flat-footed, clumsy, or tip-toers. If they make a racket or constantly spook the other characters. If they fidget or can’t sit still in a seat for five seconds, if they like to sit backwards or upside down. How they touch themselves, if they do a lot of self-soothing maneuvers (hugging themselves, rubbing their arms, touching their face, drawing their knees up, holding their neck, etc) or if they don’t do any self-soothing at all.

This is how they shake hands, if they dance while they cook or work. It’s how much space they let themselves take up, if they man-spread or keep their limbs in closer. How close they stand to others or how far. If they let themselves be touched at all, or if they always have their skin covered. If they always have their back to a wall, or are always making sure they know where the nearest exit is. If they make grand gestures when they talk and give directions. If they flinch from pats on the back or raised hands. If they lean away from loud voices or project their own. If they use their height to their advantage when arguing, puff their chest, square their shoulders, put their hands on their hips, or point fingers in accusation.

If they touch other characters as they pass by. If they’re huggers or victims of falling asleep on or near their comrades. If they must sleep facing the door, or with something solid behind them. If they can sleep in the middle of a party wholly uncaring. If they sleepwalk, sleeptalk, migrate across the bed to cuddle whoever’s nearest with no idea they’re doing it.

If they like to be held or like to hold others. If they hate being picked up and slung around or are touch-starved for it. If they like their space and stick to it or are more than happy to share.

Do they walk with grace, head held high and back straight? Or are they hunched over, head hung, watching their feet? Are they meanderers or speed-walkers? Do they cross their arms in front or lace their hands behind them? Do they bow to authority or meet that gaze head on?

I have heard that Prince Zuko, in Last Airbender, is usually drawn sleeping with his bad ear down when he doesn’t feel safe, like on his warship or anywhere in the Fire Nation, or on the road. He’s drawn on his other side once he joins the Gaang. In Dead Man’s Chest, just before Davy Jones drives the Flying Dutchman under the waves, two tentacles curl up and around the brim of his hat to keep it from blowing off in the water.

When they fight, do they attack first, or defend first? Do they touch other characters’ hair? Share makeup, share clothes? Touch their faces with boops or bonks or nuzzles and eskimo kisses? Do they crack their knuckles and necks and knees?

Do they stare in baffled curiosity at all the other characters wholly comfortable in each other's spaces because they can’t, won’t, or don’t see the point in all this nonsense? Do they say they’re happy on the outside, but are betrayed by their body language?

Voice

Whether or not to write an accent is entirely up to you. Books like Their Eyes Were Watching God writes dialogue in a vernacular specific to its characters. Westerners and southerners tend to be written with the southern drawl or dialect, ripe with stereotypical contractions. Be advised, however, that in attempt to write an accent to give your character depth, you could be instead turning off your audience who doesn’t have energy to decipher what they’re saying, or you went and wrote a racist stereotype.

Voice isn’t just accent and dialect, nor is it how it sounds, which falls more solidly under useful character descriptions. Voice for the sake of humanizing your characters concerns how they talk, how they convey their thoughts, and how they become distinct from other characters in dialogue and narration.

If you’re writing a narrative that hops heads and don’t want to include a big banner to indicate who’s talking at any given time, this is where voice matters. It is, I think, the least appreciated of all the possible traits to pay attention to.

First person narrators have the most flexibility here because the audience is zero degrees removed from their first-hand experiences. Their personality comes through sharply in how they describe things and what they pay attention to.

But it’s also in what similes and metaphors they use. I read a book that had an average (allegedly straight) male narrator going off and describing colors with types of flowers, some I had to look up because I just don’t know those off the top of my head. My immediate thought was either this character is a poorly written gay, or he’s a florist. Neither (allegedly), the writer was just being too specific.

Do they have crutch words they use? like, um, actually, so…, uh

Or repeat exclamations specific to them? yikes, yowzers, jeepers, jinkies, zoinks, balls, beans, d’oh!

Or idioms they’re fond of? Like a bat out of hell. Snowball’s chance.

Do they stutter when they’re nervous? Do they lose their train of thought and bounce around, losing other characters in the process? Do they have a non-Christian god they pray to and say something other than “thank God”? Are they from another country, culture, time period, realm, or planet with their own gods, beliefs, and idioms?

When they describe settings, how flowery is the language? Would this grizzled war hero use flowery language? How would he or she describe the color pink, versus a PTA mom? Do they use only a generic “blue, green, red” or do they really pay attention with “aquamarine, teal, emerald, viridian, vermillion, rose, ruby”?

How do this character’s hobbies affect how well they can describe dance moves, painting styles, car models, music genres?

This mostly matters when you’re head-hopping and the voice of the narrator serves to be more distinct, otherwise, what’s the point of head-hopping? Just use third-person omniscient.

If you really want to go wild, give a specific narrator unique syntax. Maybe one character is the ghost of Oscar Wild with never-ending run-on sentences. Just be sure to not go too overboard and compromise the integrity of your story.

In the book A Lesson Before Dying, a somewhat illiterate, underprivileged and undereducated minor has been given a mentor, a teacher, before they face the death penalty. At the end of the book, you read all of the letters they wrote to their teacher. There’s misspellings everywhere, almost no punctuation, and long, rambling sentences.

It’s heartbreaking. The subject matter is heavy and horrible, yes, but it’s the choice to write with such poor English that has a much bigger impact than perfect MLA format.

How to implement these details

Most of these, in the written medium, need only show up once or twice before your audience notices and wonders why they’re there. Most fall squarely under character design, which falls under exposition, and should follow all the exposition guidelines.

These details exist to be random and fluffy, but they can’t exist randomly within the narrative. If you want to have your character be superstitious, pick a relevant time to include that superstition.

Others, like ongoing speech habits or movements, still don’t overuse, especially if they’re unique. A character might like to sit backwards in a chair, but if you mention that they’re doing it every single time they sit down, your audience will wonder what’s so important and if the character is unwell.

And, of course, you can let these traits become thematically important, like a superstition being central to their personality or backstory or motivation. These all serve the same purpose of making your character feel like a real person instead of just a “character”.

Just think about tossing in a few random details every now and then and see what happens. One tiny sentence can take a background character and make them candidates for the eventual fandom’s fan favorite. Details like these turn your work from “This a story, and these are the characters who tell it” into “these are my characters, and this is their story.”

#writing advice #character design #writing tips #writing resources #exposition #writing tools #writing a book

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 24 days

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Crown of Gold

cw. gn!reader, eremite!reader, pre-relationship, reader rizz

pairing. kaveh x reader

notes. this has been in my drafts for months. literal freaking months. this was supposed to be done and posted ages ago but apparently... this is what happens to a oneshot in the hands of a master procrastinator. this isn't anything too long but kaveh simps, come get your simp juice.

“You have a really fun toy, Mister!”

“Mehrak isn’t a toy! She’s my precious toolbox!”

There’s a mechanical beep and you hear gleeful shrieks and clapping following.

“A toy, a toy!”

When the man ー Kaveh, you remember ー groans in frustration, you aren’t able to stop your soft chuckles that are drowned out by the sounds of your younger sisters’ laughter. Let me help the guy out before he pulls his hair out.

“Uru, Jericho,” you step from behind the pillar, tugging your brocade off your face to give them a stern but playful look. The twins share a look of panic between them, Uru letting go of the strange, sentient box in her hands. “Are you bothering our guest?”

Aaru Village isn’t your home but it is a stable place to keep your sisters while you work.

You were born into the life of a mercenary, you seldom had a choice in what to become. Your mother was a mercenary and you grew up surrounded by them. Uncles and Aunties who would carve bowls and husk ajilenakh nuts with their swords. Stories being told around a fire as songs that have long since lost their names are sung. The scent of iron and dust blending into each other.

Your father passed away months after your birth and as for the twins’ dad, you doubt you would be able to pick the man out of a crowd even if held by blade point. You don’t know if he’s dead, nor do you know if the man simply abandoned his children in favor of life in the rainforest. Maybe he even had a new family.

You doubt you’ll ever receive an answer. Nor do you care if you ever receive one.

After your mother died on a job, you took your sisters and brought them to Aaru Village. Here your sisters can grow up with friends they can see everyday and neighbors with varying life expectancies.

You, on the other hand, continued your life as a hand-for-hire. Mercenary work is what took your family but it is what gave you the means to survive with the family you have left.

Uru and Jericho are your pride and joy. You want them to have the opportunities you couldn’t.

That doesn’t mean they can torment the architect whose visit to the village coincided with your own however.

“He’s the one who designed the library they’re building. He’s Kaveh!” you learned quickly from little Ayten. One might find it honorable he returns to make sure his work is being followed completely to the letter, another might find it simply as the architect doing his job.

You like to believe his reasoning is a happy medium between the two.

You give Kaveh a polite smile and he smiles back in relief. It’s practically reflex that you feel a small stutter of your heart. He is very beautiful. You have seen your fair share of beautiful people in both the desert and the rainforest.

This son of the rainforest is perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

It isn’t the first time you’ve seen the architect without your Eremite brocade inhibiting your sight. You’d seen him from a distance in the afternoon sun, discussing with Setaria and Badawi. Yet it is a different experience when he is standing right in front of you with locks of gold crowning his head and framing his ruby-red eyes.

“Go on and apologize to Mr. Kaveh and his Mehrak, okay?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kaveh,” Uru murmurs, hands behind her back.

“Sorry,” Jericho mumbles, fiddling with her dress.

Kaveh clears his throat and he sounds a bit too pleased at the apologetic words even if they are technically forced. “It’s fine, just make sure to treat Mehrak gently. She’s very important to me.” As if to agree with her master, the sentient box beeps. “Mehrak says she forgives you as well.” The twins brighten at this declaration.

“Now why don’t the two of you go and play with the children your age, hmm,” you nod in the direction of some children playing enthusiastically with their small scarab warriors.

“Sorry about my sisters,” you tell the man softly when the twins make their exit. “They think you’re fascinating.” He is fascinating. The clothes you buy are built for practicality. For the heat of the desert and for the humidity of the rainforest. Kaveh’s form of dress is undoubtedly fancier than what most desert folk don. He was swathed in the colors of Sumeru from the greens of the rainforest to the pale golds of the sands. “Most rainforest folk they see in Aaru Village are... different compared to you.”

Scholars in their Akademiya robes or those who now call the Red Sand their home. Those are the types of rainforest folk you'll typically find here.

“They aren’t too much trouble,” the architect tells you smoothly like he hadn’t been softly bullied by the two only moments prior.

“Really? They’re a pair of troublemakers to me,” you laugh, scarred hands resting on your hips. “They know they’re cute too. You’ve fallen right into their trap. They’ll be begging you to make them wreaths with your Vision if you’re not careful.”

Kaveh doesn’t look upset by your guffaws. His smile is one of exasperation and self-admitted doom. “Yep, they got me good,” he sighs good-naturedly. “I owe you a ‘thank you’. For Mehrak,” the toolbox beams in what you think is a happy tone. “And you’re the additional help Badawi mentioned, right? I appreciate you helping with keeping the trade route open to help lower loss of materials.”

“No need to thank me for that,” you shake your head. You don’t deserve them. You’re only helping since this coincided with your visit. So when Badawi asked if you could assist with keeping the costs down in the way you knew best, you easily told him he had your axe. “If it weren’t for that, I probably would be who knows where right now.”

Kaveh shakes his head at you even more firmly, “regardless of the reasoning, you’re helping out and that’s worthy of an expression of gratitude.”

You decide to let the architect win this battle. “Consider it my own thanks,” at the look of confusion he gives you, you are quick to explain: “For the library. It’s something this place desperately needs.”

Kaveh's smile is a bit more warm than polite. "It's my pleasure to work on any desert revitalization efforts."

You sit on one of the stray crates close by and gesture for the architect to sit beside you. He does, setting his toolbox beside him, it's bright green glow gone. "When it comes to this library you're building, can we expect to see it decorated entirely in plants?"

"I'll have to disappoint you," the man laughs sheepishly. "The building will probably be plainer than you're thinking."

"Don't worry, I was just pulling your chain," you reassure him. "It's enough that the children here will have a place to study."

“Plants have never been my strong suit,” the architect admits with a begrudging tone. “I’m happy with the Vision I have but plants aren’t an element I have a natural affinity for. I would have expected something more fitting to my interests or maybe that has more to do with my career.” He then mutters something along the lines of ‘maybe Geo or Cryo for sample constructs’, lost completely in thought.

He really is beautiful. It’s a look you’ve seen on him before from a distance. Deep in thought in the glow of the sun that made his hair shine more bright and his red eyes a red as deep as the cloths eremites use to cover their eyes.

“I have a friend with a Dendro Vision who hails from the Amurta Darshan, he definitely is able to use his to its fullest extent,” Kaveh sighs in finality. "I'll see if there are any plants he recommends for the desert

“I think it suits you,” a blond eyebrow raises in curiosity. As if he's challenging you for such a thought. An architect with with the power of plants doesn't seem that ridiculous a notion to you.

“The rainforest is your home so I think Dendro suits you just fine." He's much like the plants of Sumeru himself with the bright colors he swaddled in. "You’ve grown into your plants quite well, son of the rainforest. Besides, flowers are beautiful. Beautiful things are best suited for beautiful people.”

Perhaps that was too honest if Kaveh’s flaming red face at your candor is anything to go off of.

“As for myself, a Vision would be nice but I don’t need one. My ambitions in life are simpleー give my sisters the life I couldn’t have," you continue on, looking at your sisters.

They have no scarabs of their own to join in their friends' game, but they are watching the present match enthusiastically.

It’s a goal that can be accomplished with or without a Vision, blessings from the gods are simply boons for that goal. “I want them to go to the Akademiya and have the best chance at a good life. Maybe meeting you will inspire them to join Kshahrewar and become architects. Whatever makes them happy.”

Your words bring Kaveh out his flustered stupor, crossing his arms with a look of indignance. “I refuse to let those two be architects,” he says too resolutely for someone who is practically a stranger to the three of you. “If they want peace, they should definitely find a different field of study.”

You snort in amusement, “Setaria was telling me about how you’re this bigshot architect in the capital and you don’t want more students to join the craft?”

Kaveh shudders as if recalling terrible, terrible memories. “I’m surprised my hair hasn’t already turned gray,” he nods to himself, even more convinced than before. “Those girls look more like Amurta researchers to me. Maybe Spantamad if they find they like field research.”

“I’ll be sure to pass on your opinions to them, Mr. Kaveh,” you say with a bemused grin. “Maybe in the future they’ll surprise us both and do none of the things we’re talking about.” But as long as it isn’t mercenary work, it doesn’t matter.

"Kaveh," the architect corrects you. "You can just call me Kaveh. No formalities needed."

"Feel free to just call me [First]," you grin. You believe you'll enjoy working this project for however long you're needed. You don't think it's too arrogant to believe the man beside you is thinking the same. "No formalities needed."

Extra:

I was heavily moved to write this because I was thinking about VADTD's Penelope and how when she first met Callisto her eyes were drawn to his golden hair. I have a weakness for 2D blonds that that have red eyes, it's such a sexy combo in manhwas

#look she's writing #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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avoxrising · 5 months

Text

The Feral One • Ch 17

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

This is kind of Chapter 16 part 2 so apologies that it’s short!

Content Warnings - Panic Attack, mention of previous rape, descriptions of gore, self harm

You decide to visit Peeta again. If anyone was going to tell you what you wanted to know, it would be him. You told Haymitch and Boggs that you wanted to visit him to tell him about the wedding in the hopes that it would cheer him up. They agreed and they let you inside.

“Peeta!” you grin as you enter his room. The blond looks up at you surprised.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back,” he states, sadness in his eyes.

“Well Peeta,” you reply. “I have lots to share with you, and something you can share with me.”

“Ok…” he hesitantly agrees.

“Firstly,” you start. “Finnick and I agreed to get fake married in District 13 to make people happy. People are sad right now so we thought it was a good idea.”

“Oh,” he states, taking the information in.

“Second,” you continue, “I talked to Haymitch and Boggs and they’ve agreed to let you decorate our wedding cake!”

“You want me to decorate your cake?” he asks. “I’d be honored.”

“Ok now I need your help on something,” you tell him, hoping Boggs and Haymitch won’t notice what you are doing and pull you out of there.

“I don’t trust the people here,” you explain. “But I trust you. The capital erased some of my memories and I’m trying to figure out what I’m forgetting. Apparently something happened on my victory tour that was very bad but nobody will tell me. Do you know what they are talking about?”

Peeta nods his head, sadness filling his eyes.

“Johanna told me in the arena,” he responds. “You… you were raped by a man in the capital; some important guy I think. You killed him during it and that’s why the capital hates you. After that you didn’t talk to anyone besides Finnick for five years and didn’t let anyone touch you. It’s why the capital calls you Feral and everyone is afraid of you.”

You can faintly hear Boggs enter the room but you’re frozen in place. The memories were starting to come back to you; the feeling of his hands on you, gouging out his eyes…

Boggs is guiding you out of the room but suddenly you don’t want him touching you. You don’t want anyone touching you.

“Don’t touch me,” you growl as you shrug his arm off of you. He goes to say something into his radio and you take the chance to bolt away from him and everyone else near Peeta’s room.

Shouts for you are ignored as you run down the halls of District 13. You make turn after turn, hoping to lose the people chasing you and yourself deep in the bunker.

When your lungs are burning and you can’t run anymore, you climb into a supply closet and shut the door. You need time away from people. They’re probably chasing you to hunt you down. You’re dangerous.

A worried Haymitch comes flying into the training room where Finnick is throwing around his trident.

“Finnick!” he shouts, out of breath. “We need you on deck 9 now.”

Haymitch had never seen the young man move so quickly. He instantly dropped his trident and sprinted past the older victor, not even stopping to ask questions.

When Finnick arrived on deck 9, he was greeted by Boggs.

“Is she alright?” he asks worried. “Where is she?”

“I have soldiers trying to figure that out as we speak,” Boggs states. “She visited Peeta and it didn’t go well. He told her about her victory tour and she ran. We were hoping you’d be able to help us find her.”

“Give me some sedatives just in case,” Finnick responds. “Do you know what direction she went in?”

“That way,” Boggs states and the blond runs off in that direction.

It takes two hours and a suggestion from Katniss to check the supply closets for Finnick to find you. The soldiers had opted to secure the surrounding corridors to keep you from moving locations, deciding that you’d be the least likely to hurt anyone if Finnick found you.

“Y/N?” he asks, shining a light into the closet.

“Get away from me!” you growl.

He looks down at your shivering form on the floor of the closet. Your face was wet from crying and your arms were red from you clawing at them.

“Y/N,” he states calmly, causing you to look up at him. “I’m going to sedate you and then take you to my room. You need somewhere to process this and a supply closet isn’t safe.”

You shake your head at him, knowing he’s right but not wanting to go anywhere. He crouches down towards you with his hands out in front of them. He has a small syringe in one containing what looks like sedative from the hospital.

“You’ll be in my room when you wake up,” he tells you. “I won’t let them take you anywhere. Do you understand?”

You give him a slight nod before you close your eyes, allowing him to sedate you and carry you off.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @vsnrly @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #mockingjay #the feral one

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rubberfuckey · 11 months

Text

summary: After a worried phone call from Wheezie, you decide to come back to Kildare.

wc: 1.3k

a/n: This is set right after season three, let's pretend the time skip in the show doesn't exist (: This is my first post since 2020! Let me know what y'all think <3333 part two??? ;)

Eyes snapping open and with a rush of panic, you try to locate your piercingly loud phone tangled in the sheets somewhere next to you. Who the fuck would be calling me at whatever ungodly hour it is? Finally finding it, you damn near blind yourself with how bright it is and how unadjusted your eyes are. Squinting, too tired and agitated to read it, you swipe to answer the call like muscle memory.

“Hello?” you huff.

“I’m sorry I know it’s late… but I have a favor to ask.”

“Wheeze? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Hearing her voice sits you straight up in your bed, she has never called this late or has ever asked of anything from you.

“I’m okay, kind of. I’m alive. It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Wheezie-”

“I know,” she cuts you off, “nevermind it was stupid anyways.”

“No, Wheezie, talk to me.”

“It’s just, Rafe,” you flinch at hearing his name, “I’m scared. I’ve never seen him like this before. We know he’s already a pretty angry guy, but this is something different.”

You sit there quietly listening. You left Kildare a year ago, after a nasty breakup with Rafe and trying to break apart the unhealthy codependency you both developed. You transferred to a different state college but you always stayed in touch with Wheezie. Before you and Rafe went wrong, you were close with both his sisters and promised to stay in contact with the young girl you watched grow throughout your time with Rafe. No one knew of course, you and Rafe were completely no contact- opting to block his number after one too many heartwrenching voicemails while obviously under the influence of his favorite white powder.

Sarah hadn’t tried to reach out, but from what Wheeze had mentioned she got herself distracted with a pogue-turned cop killer-who was proved innocent. What a shit show. You knew it all, countless Facetime calls caught you up to speed. You consoled her through the “death” of Sarah, the “death” of her father and what other trauma presented itself. Sometimes it was too much being constantly reminded of your ex, whom you still loved very deeply, but being there for this poor girl trumped how it made you feel. The feeling went both ways, she stopped you from coming back to the island quite a few times when she told you just how bad things have gotten, insisting that she would be okay, when in reality she really just needed a hug from her honorary sister. He was never brought up, you didn’t ask, she didn’t tell. Something in your gut told you it’s just better if you don’t know what had been going on with him. You appreciated her respecting that boundary.

“The club is hosting some kind of party in Ward’s honor tomorrow. It’s weird, he was supposed to be dead months ago and the island is just now doing something in memory of him. Probably Rose organized it or something, who knows. Anyways,” she stopped and took in a deep breath, “Rose wants us all to be there and speak about him in front of everyone. I went to ask Rafe what he planned on saying to hopefully find some inspiration but he just went on and on about how ‘the pogues killed him on purpose’ and how ‘they have another thing coming to them if they think they’re just going to get away with it’. I’ve seen him mad before, I’ve watched him punch holes through the walls, scream, yell, and cry. But this…” she trails off, inhaling deeply after her fast paced rant.

You sigh, not knowing what to say, “Give me some time to get a bag packed and get on the road, and I’ll be there.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t bother you with his dramatics if I didn’t think it was important.”

“Hey, don’t apologize, I’m glad you told me. I’ll be there soon, just keep working on what you want to say. I’ll help you brainstorm tomorrow while I’m driving if you need me to.”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re seriously the best.”

“Keep your head up Wheeze, get some rest and maybe steer clear of your brother for a little bit.”

After hanging up, you sigh and stare up at your ceiling. Shit.

The drive back to the OBX gave you time to think, what would you actually be walking back into? Was his grief manifesting itself into the kind of anger and violence that could be fatal to anyone he saw at fault? You shuddered at the thought. Pulling in to your parent’s driveway, you sent a text to Wheezie telling her you just got in and you’ll meet her at the country club. You could name about a thousand and one places you would rather be than under the same roof as Rafe Cameron for the first time in over a year, but you wanted to pay your respects and be there to support the people that had turned into your bonus family during your 2 year relationship with Rafe.

“You ready honey?” your mom asks as you slip on your shoes to match the black dress you had chose.

“As I’ll ever be.”

The car ride was quiet, your anxiety was palpable as you bit your nails down and bounced your leg uncontrollably. Walking in the familiar doors, all you saw was the looks on people’s faces as they realized you were back on the island and here no less. Pretty much everyone knew who you were, your family’s status not much different from the Cameron’s themselves. You were known as the sweet girl from the affluent family who smiled politely at everyone who looked in your direction and would never hurt a fly. Rafe’s reputation was quite the opposite. When you and Rafe had made your first entrance together at Midsummers at the age of 17, it was the talk of the island. Ignoring the stares and whispers, you held your head high and looked for Wheezie.

Standing next to a huge photo of Ward leant against an easel stood Rafe, watered down whiskey in hand as he blankly looked around at the people in the room. If one more person awkwardly gave him a tight lipped look of sympathy, he was going to lose it. He heard people murmuring and the looks in his direction seemed to increase. Shaking off the feeling like everyone knew something he didn’t, he downed his drink and made his way over to get another. Sofia caught him before he reached the bar and assumed her position under his arm.

“Maybe slow down on the whiskey?” She meant well, but damn did he need another drink. Looking at her blankly, he kept moving towards the bartender. His father was dead, who gives a fuck how much alcohol his grieving son intakes. Kelce walks into the room from the hallway, looking around frantically, catching sight of Rafe as he beelines toward him, out of breath.

“Yo, Rafe, Y/N is here.”

Rafe nearly chokes on his drink as he looks at Kelce with an unreadable expression, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Y/N, I just saw her walking in with my own two eyes bro.”

He sets his glass back down and suddenly Sofia was right all along, he needs to slow down on the whiskey if you were really here. He thinks back to the last time he saw you, all the screaming and crying and pleading with you not to leave. Even with the past year's events, he puts losing you at the top of the list of the most painful things he’s ever been through. He understands why you left and couldn’t blame you, but damn did he miss you like you were the air he needed to breathe. You walked in, obviously looking for something or someone as he watched your eyes scan the room until they caught his. He immediately felt nauseous. I’m going to puke, you thought.

part two

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks imagine #outerbanks

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nattinatalia · 11 months

Text

JACK HARLOW X READER : ANNIVERSARIES & SIXTY-NINES

A/N : This is a second collaboration with my buttercup @harlowcomehome 💚 if you haven’t read our very first collab, here’s where you can find it, part 1 2 & 3 always fun and an honor working with you babes. Ilyyyyy for life 💚🤞🏼

“But, wait. Listen to me, you’re not listening to me” Jack was shouting, something he rarely ever did especially so early in the morning.

“Can’t you back out? They can’t find another opener? It’s not about the money. I don’t care, I want to make sure I’m here.” He was sitting on the couch, his elbows pressed against his thighs.

You walked out of the bedroom, keeping your eyes on him. It was clear that he was very upset. You had only made out a few words in the conversation.

“Fuck it. Okay,” he said, throwing his phone to the side as he prematurely hung up on whoever he was talking to.

“Everything okay?” You walked over to him, rubbing his back as he tried to regain his composure.

He shakes his head, “I- Chris booked me for a last-minute festival.”

“Okay?” You don’t know what’s the issue with that since Jack loves to perform every chance he gets. “And you’re upset?”

He turns to look at you, “Babe, it’s this weekend.”

“Oh,” You realize what that meant immediately. “Baby, I knew our schedules would eventually clash with important dates. It’s okay.” You reassure him, pushing back his curls.

“No, it’s not, it’s our first wedding anniversary and I’m supposed to be here with you. We’re supposed to celebrate together. I had things planned for us and now they’re ruined.”

“We can always celebrate when you get back, I promise you I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Baby, when we got married I made you a promise that I would never miss important moments involving our relationship. I promised you that I would be here.” He leans back on the couch, his hands covering his eyes.

“Jack.” You quickly straddle him, both of your legs on each side of him and you pull his hands away from his face. “Please listen to me.”

He stares at you, you can see his eyes getting watery, signs that he’s annoyed and upset. “You have nothing to worry about. I know you wouldn’t miss celebrating our anniversary on purpose. You’re an amazing husband, who always goes above and beyond. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m sure you’ll be here on time and if you’re not, I can always fly out to you baby.”

You rocked back and forth in his lap, he covered his face again with his hands. You heard sniffling coming from underneath them.

“Jack, my love, don’t cry” You lean forward to hug him, his head resting on your shoulder.

“I’m just frustrated,” he whimpered. “ I feel like a bad husband. Chris assured me I’d be back the night before but it just feels like I’m cutting it too close” he was still talking from behind his hands.

You pried his fingers away from his face, “ I love you, let’s make the most out of today. When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning” he mumbled as he wiped his face. It broke your heart to see him cry.

“Let’s make the most of today then? I don’t have anything planned” You smiled and he nodded.

The next day Jack had to leave early in the morning to catch his flight, granted he was flying in the private jet but he just wanted to get the weekend over with.

You woke up to drawers being slammed and grunts coming from Jack. “Baby?”

“Shit, sorry I woke you up.” He’s throwing clothes into his suitcase, not even bothering to fold them, which is weird to you since he’s such a control freak about that.

“I was going to wake up soon anyway.” The alarm you had set last night goes off and you quickly stop it.

“Where’s my passport?” He asks, looking around the room.

You quickly get off the bed and head to him. “It’s in your hands baby.” You reach out for it. “I need you to relax, papi.”

“I’m sorry.” He lets out a deep sigh “I just can’t believe I’m missing out on our anniversary.”

“Hey, no more of that. Let me help you pack” You start taking everything out. “Then we can have breakfast so I can drop you off at the airport.”

He shakes his head “I think it’s best you stay here, I’ll have Urban pick me up.”

You stop folding his clothes, “Wait, why?”

“I’m already having a hard time with this, you dropping me off will make me not want to go at all.”

“Bubs, I need you to be okay. I don’t want to be worried when you’re gone. I need you to be one hundred percent fine. You’ll get there and it’ll go by quickly and then you’ll come back home to me.”

“I know.” He nods, “I know I’m overreacting but I just wanted this weekend to be perfect.”

You smile at that. “And it will be.” You close up his suitcase. “Now come on, let's have breakfast and cuddle on the couch before it’s time for you to leave.”

You made Jack breakfast, rubbing his shoulders as you made sure he ate. He was always grumpy when he didn’t, and he had a long flight. You wanted to spare the others.

When he was done eating the two of you cuddled on the couch like you asked, you could tell his spirit was still sad.

“Baby, you’ll be back in time and we will have a nice dinner, and then maybe…” you giggled which peaked his attention.

“And what?” His brown furrowed, and before you could answer you heard a honk outside.

“Looks like Urb is here” You stood up to give him a hug and kiss goodbye.

“Baby” he whined followed by a chuckle. “That’s not fair.”

“Have a safe flight!! Don’t keep Urban waiting” you giggled before slapping his butt as he left out of the door.

The next two days dragged for both of you but mainly for Jack. He didn’t leave you second-guessing for a bit, and he let you know how much he missed you as often as he could.

He even sent you over your daily flower arrangement and that would always make you smile.

After his festival performance, he made sure he was ready to go so all he had to do was head to the airport and board the jet. His friends understood why he was in such a hurry, so they just followed behind him without saying a word.

“Dude come on we’ve been waiting for the pilot for thirty minutes.” Jack is tapping on his knee desperately, impatient as ever.

“Relax Jack, we’ll get there on time.” Neelam tries to get him to calm down, but she knows it’s a failed attempt.

“The dinner reservation I made is in two hours, I should’ve been back home by now. Fucking Chris needs to stop booking things without coming to me first.” Before the show started, he was informed that he had a few radio interviews he had to do, this caused him to be late to the show and he was now running late to go back home.

After waiting thirsty more minutes the pilot finally arrived and they were up in the air in no time. He was texting you back and forth, making sure you were awake and ready to go. All he had to do was take a quick shower and you’d be out the door.

Once he landed back in Louisville, his driver was already waiting for him there so he made it home in no time.

He noticed the lights were off which confused him. “Y/N?” He yelled out as soon as he walked in.

“Hi, baby.” You walk out of the kitchen, heading to him.

“Why aren’t you ready? I’ll just shower real fast and then we can head out to the restaurant.”

“Hmm about that.” You place your hands on his waist. “I canceled the reservation.”

“What?”

“Okay let me rephrase that.” You chuckle lightly. “I rescheduled for tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Papi, I knew you’d be tired. I can tell you’ve barely slept and I need you to eat something.” You get on your tippy toes and give him a few kisses on his neck.

“I had things planned, baby.”

“I know, I spoke to Neelam and I made sure that everything you had planned for tonight, you could do tomorrow. Tonight is all about you.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating us ” he reminded you.

“We are, and we will tomorrow. Right now I need you to undress and get into the tub, I have a bath ready for you, then we’ll eat and who knows, I’ll probably spoil you with a massage and some baby-making.” You wink at him.

“Baby making, did you say baby making?” He chuckles as he starts to undress right there in the living room, dropping his bags to the side.

“Mhm,” you smile as he grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom. “Join me?”

“I can’t, I need to make sure I get the food out of the oven but I’ll sit there with you.” You pointed to the tub that was full of stress-relief eucalyptus bubbles.

“Smells good” he sniffed the air before getting into the warm water. “This feels good,” he breathed out.

“I put some bath salts in there for body aching, I know how you feel after a show.”

“Baby you’re spoiling me.”

“You deserve it” You grabbed a headband off the bathroom counter, putting it underneath his curls to make sure they were out of his face.

You pulled up a bar stool next to the tub, making sure you had a good angle. You started to massage his shoulder blades.

“Mmmm baby, that feels good” he sighed, leaning back in the tub.

You continue to rub at his shoulders and give him little kisses here and there where his freckles are at. “Damn, have you been working out babe?”

“I hit the gym over the weekend, needed to clear my mind”

“My grumpy baby.” You give him a last squeeze and stand up.

He groans “Where are you going?” He reached for you, tugging at the ends of your little lavender silk pajama dress.

“I have to check on dinner, you finish up here and meet me in the kitchen.”

He stands up. “I’m done, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Hmm.” You can’t help but stare below his waist.

“Y/N.” Jack chuckles.

“Sorry, umm yeah meet me in the kitchen.” You quickly head out of the bathroom and make your way to the kitchen to check on the food.

You take out the pan with food and place it on the counter and start setting up the table. You light up some candles and spread some rose petals around the little setup you have.

“What is all this?” You look up and see him smiling with a little tint of red on his cheeks, signs of him blushing.

“Just a little dinner for us.” You light up the last candle. “Come, sit baby so I can fix your plate.”

“Are we having wine or champagne?”

“Since when do you drink?” You chuckle, as you’re putting the food on two separate plates.

“Tonight’s a special night, so why not?” He shrugs, unscrewing the bottle and pouring it into some champagne flutes.

You two are finally seated and eating, you cooked a steak alongside mashed potatoes and some green beans. For dessert, you had made a tres leches cake that you were now sharing.

“Mhmm, this is by far my favorite cake that you’ve baked.” He moans after taking a bite of the cake.

“You say that to all the cakes I make.”

He nods, “Yeah because they’re that good.”

“Do you want more whipped cream?” You got up from your chair and went to the refrigerator to grab the whipped cream.

“Yes please.” As soon as you hand it to him, he quickly pulls you to his lap.

“JACK!” You giggle, placing your palm on his chest.

He pushes back your hair and smears some whipped cream on your neck. “JACKMAN.”

He quickly goes to lick it off you, sucking on your neck as he goes. “Hmm, bab-baby” you squirm on his lap. “That’s going to be sticky.”

“You’re going to be sticky either way.” He stands up, and you’re still very much wrapped up around his body. “You took care of me enough tonight, it’s my turn now.”

He continued to suck and kiss your neck, his hand slowly migrating between your legs.

You stood up as you felt the core of your stomach grow tighter. “I need you in that bedroom, now.”

“Bossy hmm? I like it” he picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom bridal style. He plopped you down on the bed and before he could start to kiss you, you stopped him.

“Baby, you had such a long day, let me take care of you first” the two of you got undressed. You watched as his dick sprung free. You got in a position for him to eat you out while you sucked him off.

“We’re doing this tonight?” He smirked, he gripped your thighs with both hands, ready to position you over his mouth.

“Let’s see who cums first” you challenged, you massage his balls as you took him into your mouth.

He pulled you down to him, his mouth sloppily licking and sucking at your folds, he took your clit into his mouth and started to hum, a trick he knew always worked.

Your legs started to tremble, and you felt close, you decided to focus on the tip, knowing that usually drove him to orgasm too.

“Baby, baby, babe” his voice was panicked underneath you. “I’m going to- I need to” and he did.

You felt him release against your tongue, and that was enough to make you orgasm on his face, not that he was complaining.

You got off of him, bringing him a wet towel to wipe his face and other body parts down with.

“That was amazing” he rasped, as you waddled to the bathroom. He hadn’t even been inside you yet and you were tingly all over.

You went to the bathroom to wipe yourself clean, when you walked out of the bathroom you found your husband still naked and asleep in bed, loud snores coming from him.

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. “I knew he was tired,” You say to yourself.

You walk toward him and cover him with the blankets, turn off the lights, and get into bed next to him.

You can’t help but stare at him while he sleeps for a bit. The room was dark but you could still make out his face. You knew he was stressed and tired, so it was a matter of time before he fell asleep.

After a few more glances at him, you lay your head on his chest and try to sleep. His snoring never kept you awake, if anything it calmed you.

You finally fell asleep after about ten minutes of repositioning, and before you knew it you were being woken up by kisses going up and down your neck and his beard scratching you as he continued.

“Mmhmm, baby?” You rasp out.

“Sorry baby” he paused to kiss you “I fell asleep on you.” He placed another kiss on your temple “But now the real celebration starts.”

He was quick to remove the blankets and you knew he had been awake for a while before he started to kiss you, he never woke up with this much energy.

“What did you have in mind?” You yawned as you sat up to get a better view of him. You realized he had never got dressed.

“Well, it is our anniversary so what if we practice making a baby” he wiggled his eyebrow before bending down to kiss you.

“I’d like that” you smiled “happy anniversary baby.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

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atlabeth · 6 months

Text

between colleagues pt 2 - anthony lockwood

part one

summary: the morning after and some shopping. this is still a great plan. right?

a/n: lol this took forever to come out but ive been busy asf and dealing with a lot of personal issues but i am really loving these two and they made me feel better so i hope you all enjoy!! they really are just two idiots in love lmao the shop scene was v fun

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, small mention of death in regards to a case, reader freaking tf out for a second. but basically no warnings this is all fluff

also im aware i use this gif a lot but it's like my favorite one of him so uhhhh yeah

Your shoulder was stiff when you woke up, and you had to stifle a groan of discomfort as you rolled onto your back. So much for staying off your injured side, you thought disdainfully. Typical of you to sabotage yourself in your sleep.

A glance over at the other empty bed proved Lucy was awake, and a glance at the clock on the wall proved she might have been awake for quite some time.

It was six in the bloody evening. Lockwood’s call with the Caldecotts must have gone well if you were able to sleep for 14 hours. You normally would have had the sense to be a little bit ashamed of sleeping an entire day away, but after the job you’d had and the arrangement you made with Lockwood, you felt like you deserved it.

You pulled yourself out of bed and went through the paces of making yourself presentable at the very least, then threw on a sweatshirt and made your way downstairs. Lockwood was alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a half-eaten piece of toast in front of him and the agency’s case binder in his lap.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Lockwood said, glancing up from the files on his lap with a smile. You rolled your eyes at him as you walked into the kitchen.

“Would you believe me if I said I was still tired?” You took a cup from the cabinet and filled it at the tap, taking a sip as you glanced out the window. Night had already fallen, and you could see the flickering of ghost lamps in the distance.

“You know, I think I would,” he said. “You didn’t make it the full 24 hours you promised—I think you’ve still got some in you.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Where’s Lucy and George?”

“Grocery shopping,” he said, and he looked at the clock. “It’s taking them an awful long while, though.”

“Why are they shopping at night?” you asked.

Lockwood shrugged. “George really wanted to make pad thai, but we have none of the ingredients. Apparently, it’s important enough to warrant a night trip to the store. Lucy offered to go with him, and I made them take their rapiers, so it should be fine.”

“Of course you did,” you mused. “Did you tell them about our little arrangement?”

His eyes filled with amusement. “No. I figured you would want the honor.”

You sighed and let your head fall back. “Kind as always, Lockwood.”

“You should probably start calling me Anthony,” he said. “Just to get used to it.”

“What,” you said dryly, looking back down at him, “girlfriends don’t usually call their boyfriends by their last name?”

“I think your family may frown upon it.” Lockwood checked his watch, then set the binder on the table and stood up. “If you get a kettle going, I’ll make us tea.”

“Bored of write-ups already?” you asked, crouching down to pull the kettle out of a cabinet. Lockwood chuckled as he took the tin of tea bags out of the closet, and he turned the burner on just as you finished filling the pot up.

“I try to do my part, but they’re really not my forte,” he said. “You and George are much better at them.”

“And it comes from filing reports since the tender age of eight,” you said solemnly as you set the kettle on the stovetop.

Just then, the sound of a lock clicking open drew your attention, and you smiled as Lucy and George came inside. George had a reusable bag in one hand and her rapier in another, and Lucy also had hers drawn.

Your brows knit together. “Run into any ghosts?”

“Good morning to you too,” George said. You gave him a mocking look in return.

“No,” Lucy answered, pushing the door shut with her foot, “just being careful. Because somebody swore he saw a Spectre and refused to let a Visitor run away with his goods.”

“I am starving,” George enunciated. “I wasn’t going to let a ghost ruin all my hard work.”

Lockwood smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re both intact.”

“I’m glad you’re finally up,” George said with a look at you. “I thought you’d never come out.”

“She slept like a brick,” Lucy said. “I knocked over all the bottles in the shower and she never even stirred.”

You shrugged. “Last night was exhausting. For many reasons.”

The kettle went off and you turned the burner back down. Lockwood took two more mugs out of the cabinet and set tea bags in them, then poured the boiling water into all four. You handed him the sugar container with a pointed look.

“Remember, half—”

“Half a teaspoon,” he nodded, taking it from you with a wry smile. “I remember.”

“Good,” you said. “You’re always a little heavy handed.”

“Are you saying I add extra sweetness into your life?” Lockwood asked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“How did you know?”

“You know, we’re also here,” Lucy spoke up, though when you turned to her she was barely hiding a smile.

“As if I could ever forget you, Lucy Carlyle,” you said. “How’s your day been?”

“Quiet without you,” she said. “Lockwood’s been on the phone all day, and even though George didn’t sleep quite as long as you, he still woke up at two in the afternoon.”

“Oh, please,” George said over his shoulder, in the midst of rifling through his groceries, “I earned it. We all did, after the night we had.”

“True,” she said, tilting her head. “I actually didn’t have any nightmares for once— I’ve never slept so soundly.”

“See?” You gestured at her. “The charms I put on the walls are working.”

Lucy gave you a look. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

“No ghosts have gotten into our room!” you exclaimed. “And both of our nightmares have been getting better. That dragon is protecting us.”

Lockwood bit back a smile. “I still cannot believe you bought that.”

“Seriously,” George said, still organizing ingredients. “A week’s wages, just gone.”

You frowned. “My iron dragon is incredible, thank you very much. Besides, I’m supporting local businesses.” You glanced at Lockwood. “So the supply calls were made?”

“Every last one of them,” he confirmed as he stirred sugar into your tea. “Satchell’s was very happy to get our business again. Salt bombs will be in on Friday, flares come next week, and we’re getting brand new chains tomorrow. Plus a couple new silver glass containers from Sunrise.”

“That’s smart,” you said. “I think I threw our last square container in the furnaces last week.”

George frowned. “We went into the disaster that was last night without any silver glass?”

Lockwood cleared his throat as he handed you your mug, then set the other two on the table for Lucy and George. “Everything worked out in the end.”

Lucy just sighed. “We cut things too close for comfort.”

“The Lockwood & Co motto,” you said before taking a sip of tea. Perfectly sweetened. “How about the Caldecotts?”

“Rescheduled for tomorrow at half past noon,” Lockwood said. “Do you think you’ll be awake by then?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “I didn’t forget our deal that quickly.”

George raised his eyebrows. “What deal?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said. “Just sold my soul for a favor from Lockwood.”

Lucy frowned, eyeing the two of you. “Elaborate.”

Lockwood hid his smile with a sip of tea as he also looked at you. So this was still your treat.

You shrugged. “We’re going to a wedding together.”

“Not exactly selling your soul,” George said. “Congrats.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re going together.”

“Congrats,” he said again. “Are we just emphasizing words now?”

“We’re going as a couple,” Lockwood said.

Lucy’s eyes widened and George nearly choked on his tea as they blurted out the same thing. “What?”

“A fake couple,” you added hastily, “to fool my family.”

“…Oh,” Lucy said, glancing at George. “That’s…”

“Less exciting,” he finished.

Lockwood made a face. “Less exciting? George, we’re going to be lying to her whole family for a whole weekend. I’d say that’s quite exciting.”

He glanced at Lucy for a moment before he sighed and looked back at Lockwood with a shake of his head. “Sure.”

“Anyways,” you segued, “I just thought you two should know. It’s not for another month and half, but between the usual ghost-hunting we’re going to be doing a fair bit of planning together.”

“Spend all the time together that you want,” Lucy said. “George and I are good enough at holding down the fort, right?”

“It was just Lockwood and I for months at the beginning of all this, and half the time I was on my own because of investigatory whims,” George said. “At least you’re usually sort of predictable, Luce.”

She frowned. “I take offense to that.”

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head as he set the other two cups of tea down on the table for them. “We won’t impede work at all, I promise. I’ll make sure everything still goes as smoothly as possible.”

“What Lucy said,” George said, finally satisfied with the order of all the ingredients as he got to work. “Spend as much time together as you want.”

“Maybe you will,” you said haughtily. “Maybe Lockwood’s lying and we’ll completely abandon our duties.”

“We won’t,” Lockwood assured, and you merely smiled as you took another sip of tea.

“Speaking of work,” Lucy said, “we ran into Kipps and Godwin on the way to the store.”

Lockwood’s expression hardened and he set his mug down a bit too forcefully. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“Because it was nothing,” George said, looking up from cutting vegetables. You were glad he was the one with a knife and not Lockwood. “Just typical Kipps posturing.”

“He told us about some job they got,” Lucy said. “Some ridiculously rich widow hired Fittes to find and clear out the ghost of her husband, and they were put on the case.”

“What was her name?” Lockwood asked.

“I wasn’t really paying attention, if I’m being honest,” she said.

“Agnes Colville,” George said.

“That bastard!” Lockwood’s jaw clenched and he moved across the room to a stack of newspapers on the floor, toppling over from the height. He crouched down and began rifling through them, and after a second he pulled out one and held it up for you all to see. The look in his eye was only slightly crazed, which was admittedly progress. “He stole it from us!”

“I do remember seeing her in the paper,” you said after taking a moment to scan the cover. Her husband died of old age, and it was only because of their impressive fortune that anyone knew of it. “A tragedy.”

“I talked to her first,” he insisted, still crouched on the ground. “I called her right after I got this paper, and she told me she wasn’t looking for any agents.”

“She changed her mind, I guess,” Lucy said with a shrug.

“Or Kipps bothered her until she changed it,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Great,” George said wryly as he pushed garlic off his knife. “We’re going to be working double time to make up for this, aren’t we?”

“Sharp as always,” Lockwood said, and he finally stood up as he set the newspaper back down. He pointed a finger at you. “After we go dress shopping tomorrow, it’s straight to the archives to pick up a better case than Kipps.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re going dress shopping tomorrow?”

“Did I not tell you?” He frowned. “Caldecotts then dress shopping. And now archives.”

“No,” you said, “you absolutely didn’t.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Well, now you know. We’re going dress shopping.”

“Awfully eager to get into this boyfriend role,” George said.

“I take my job seriously.”

“I already have a dress, Lockwood,” you said. “Dorothy Perkins, remember?”

“This is a special occasion,” he said. “You deserve something nice.”

You felt your cheeks warm and you looked right at him. “You’ll pay?”

“Of course,” he said. “Business expenses, remember?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Yeah. Alright, we can go dress shopping. But if I’m getting a new dress, you’re getting a new suit.”

“Fair’s fair,” he said.

“Do we get any new clothes on your bill?” George asked. “Or is that just reserved for your fake girlfriend?”

“Oh, come off it, George,” Lucy said. “Let them have some fun together.”

“Thank you, Lucy,” you said as you sat down across from her.

“Of course,” she said. “You’re saving me from the Caldecotts and a day in the archives. I should really be thanking you.”

You turned to look at Lockwood. “You’re not going to use this as an excuse to get me to come along on all your errands with you, are you?”

“Do try and be supportive, love,” Lockwood said. “It’s only right as my girlfriend.”

You groaned as you leaned back in your chair, trying your best to ignore Lucy’s smile. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Another Lockwood & Co motto,” George mused. “How fitting.”

“Is that Anthony Lockwood walking through my door?”

You looked up when you walked through the door after Lockwood, a grin already on his face as the boutique saleswoman, a kindly older woman, greeted him. A worker at an upscale clothing store knew him by name—already a good sign.

“Ms. Bridgeston,” Lockwood said, “it’s been too long.”

“It certainly has, young man!” She pulled him into a hug and he returned it, and the woman looked at you when she pulled away. “And who is this darling girl with you?”

Lockwood said your name with a gesture, and you smiled and held out your hand. “I’m his associate.”

“And my girlfriend,” he added as she shook your hand. You shot him a look over her shoulder with wide, questioning eyes.

“Practicing,” he mouthed at you with a shrug. He was so ridiculous that you had to stifle a laugh.

“Yes,” you said, looking back at her with a smile, “his girlfriend, too.”

“Well, it is wonderful to meet you, dear.” Ms. Bridgeston smiled at Lockwood. “Anthony here has wonderful taste in apparel—he was right to bring you here.”

“I believe it,” you said with a glance around. “We’re actually in the market for wedding clothes—my cousin is getting married soon.”

“Oh, congratulations!” She clasped her hands together, eyes shining as she looked between both of you. “Is there anything you need help with, or would you just like to look around?”

“We’re good to just look,” Lockwood said, “but we’ll certainly let you know if we need anything.”

Ms. Bridgeston nodded with another smile. “Certainly. I’ll be in the back stocking if you need me.”

“Thank you,” you said, and you looked at Lockwood as she walked off. “Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Get whatever you’d like. This is a very special occasion.”

You chuckled and nodded, going off to look at a rack of dresses. The agency had been doing well for itself lately. You supposed you could splurge on a nicer dress after nearly dying a couple dozen times. “What are you going for?”

“Oh, I’m not getting anything here,” he said. “I’ve already got a suit at home, and I’ll get a pocket square that matches whatever color you’re wearing. We’re shopping for you—I’m just having fun here.”

“How exquisite,” you mused as you ran your finger over velvet. “We’ve only been fake dating for a day and you’re already all in.”

“Consider it getting in character,” Lockwood said. “We’ll already have gotten all our mistakes out of the way by wedding time.”

“Wise as always.” You took the maroon dress off the rack and continued moving down the line, and you glanced over at Lockwood. “You’ve already got what you want?”

“Most of my wardrobe is black and white.” He held up a navy suit. “This is different.”

“Hardly,” you said with a chuckle. “Dark blue is almost black.”

“This is my version of fun,” Lockwood said wryly, and you smiled as he went into the dressing room.

You spent the next while picking out dresses that struck your fancy, and by the time Lockwood was done, you had five in your arms. When he walked out, you nearly dropped them all.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

Perhaps it was lingering sleep deprivation from the near 24 hours you spent awake the other day. Perhaps it was lingering anger from your dealings with the Caldecotts—no amount of money could make dealing with Lorena worth it, but all those zeroes did help—or perhaps you were just already losing your mind.

Despite your complaints, you weren’t averse to the day Lockwood had planned out. Seeing as you’d spent entire days rooting through the archives with him on wild goose chases, an afternoon after an interview and some shopping wasn’t the worst it could get.

But now, standing in the back of the store as Lockwood emerged, you were beginning to question the wisdom of this decision.

Because you honest to God didn’t know what was wrong with you. You saw Lockwood in suits every day, or at least something suit-adjacent. Slacks, a jacket and tie, a million white dress shirts that you always end up folding. Pristine shoes, so shiny you can see your reflection in them, getting ruined by cobwebs and plasma over and over—you’ve spent many a night sitting with Lockwood talking as he polished his most recent pair of shoes, determined to get them back to their former glory.

The point was that you were used to it. You were used to seeing Lockwood dressed up—when you first joined the agency, you honestly thought he slept in suits as well until you ran into him one night on a mission for midnight tea.

So why were you unable to look away from him when he emerged from the dressing room? Why were you rendered absolutely and completely speechless?

It was nothing special, at least for Lockwood. Just a tuxedo. Navy blue rather than black like he always wore, but far nicer than the usuals. He was fussing with his bowtie as he walked out, muttering things under his breath, and thankfully not looking at you at all. You felt your eyes widen, your breath stolen from you for a moment, and all you could do was stare. Very classy of you, but you could hardly be blamed. He was stunning.

You didn’t even realize he was saying something until you heard your name for what had to have been the third time, and you blinked and snapped out of your stupor.

“What?”

He gave that damn smile and inclined his head slightly, holding up one end of the tie hanging around his neck. “Could you help me with this? I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning.”

At least you had that in common. You cleared your throat and nodded, taking a deep breath as you walked up to him in the hopes that you looked far more composed than you felt. “Yeah. Of course.”

You felt his eyes on you the entire time and you tried your hardest not to focus on it. You’d done Lockwood’s ties millions of times, usually before a particularly important interview or a particularly difficult night. He always said it was good luck, and you always rolled your eyes with a smile.

“So?” Lockwood spoke after a moment, still watching you.

“It’s good,” you said with a nod as you finished tying the bow, making sure it was straight before you stepped away. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Lockwood said, looking at himself in the mirror with a slight smile. “For the compliment and the help.

“It’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“And as much as I appreciate that,” he said, turning that smile on you, “we’re here so you can get a dress too. Did you pick any out while I was getting ready?”

You nodded and picked up the hangers you’d set down to help Lockwood. “Which one do you want to see first?”

“Definitely the maroon one,” he said with a nod. “Goes well with your eyes.”

“You’re too kind,” you said, and he chuckled as he pressed his hand to his heart.

You went behind the curtain, purposefully taking your time as you undressed so you could try and compose yourself further. It was just a suit, and he was just Lockwood, and this was just a fun little ruse to get your mum off your back for once.

Just a suit. Just a ruse. Just Lockwood.

You let out a deep breath and nodded, finally feeling like yourself again. You stepped into the dress and pulled it up, adjusting it around your figure before you zipped it up in the back, but you couldn’t get it all the way up.

“Lockwood,” you called, “can you help me?”

“Of course,” you heard him respond.

You pushed the curtain aside and stepped back out, making some more minute adjustments along the way. When you looked up, Lockwood’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted.

“Lockwood,” you said, staring at him.

He blinked and seemed to focus back in, his head perking up. “What?”

“My zipper.”

“Right.” Lockwood moved just a bit too quick around you, and you shivered as his fingers brushed your bare back for a moment while he pulled the zipper the rest of the way up. “Sorry.”

“Your hands are always cold,” you said. “It’s fine.”

“That’s—” he cleared his throat, and you turned just to see him shake his head. “Right. Yeah. Thanks.”

You raised your eyebrows, the slightest smile tugging at you. “For what?”

His own rose. “Hm?”

“You thanked me. For what?”

Lockwood shook his head again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You chuckled and nodded, holding out the skirt of your dress with your hands. “So? What do you think?”

“You look incredible,” he said, “obviously. It’s an honor to be your fake boyfriend.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” you said, but your cheeks already felt too warm for comfort.

Lockwood grinned. “Good.”

You had to turn away at that point. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, teasing you like this. “You’re taking your role way too seriously,” you said, busying yourself with rifling through the rest of the dresses you picked out.

“I told you,” he said, “I take my job seriously. And as someone who takes their job seriously, I think that dress is definitely the one.”

“Really?” You held up a sparkling blue dress against you and looked at him. “What about this one?”

He shook his head. “Maroon is definitely the one.”

“I agree, dear.” You looked up to see Ms. Bridgeston walking out carrying two boxes, that same adoring twinkle in her eye. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You looked back in the mirror for another good, long moment, and you nodded decisively. “I agree. This is the one.”

“Wonderful choice,” she said.

“Perfect choice,” Lockwood said with a grin. “If you get changed, I can go ahead and pay for everything. We’ve already used up half our day—we’ve got to get to the archives.”

You eyed him. “You didn’t just say this was the one so we could spend eight hours in the archives, did you?”

“No,” he assured. “That is the one—trust me, love. You just happened to pick out the best one first.”

You chuckled and shook your head as you started going back to the dressing room. “Whatever you say.”

Soon enough, you and Lockwood were both back in your regular clothes, dress bag in tow, walking down the streets of London.

“You seriously don’t mind spending all that money for this?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“Of course not,” he said. “I can always take it out of your paycheck, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You laughed and hit him on the arm, earning a chuckle in response. “As long as you seriously weren’t lying to me about liking this dress to get me to the archives.”

“I would never lie to you about something like that,” Lockwood said, and he held up his pointer and middle finger. “Agent’s honor.”

You smiled inwardly. “Thank you, then. I suppose I can handle spending the rest of the day in the archives with you with compliments like that.”

“Thank you, then,” he repeated. “We do have to make a stop for tea, first.”

“Naturally,” you agreed.

As you continued on your way, not exactly arm in arm but close enough for your hands to brush every so often, you found your mind drifting back to Lockwood in that damned suit. You cleared your throat and shook your head, trying to physically push the thought away.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just got something in my throat.”

Lockwood nodded, thankfully oblivious to your inner struggle. You let out a deep breath.

This was definitely still a good idea.

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