#this on the theory that the woman with red hair looking at him in the tgs trailer is cathy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoward89 · 2 months

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Based on this ask & this ask Series Masterlist

Soft!Dark!Coriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, StepDaddy!Coriolanus, Stepcest, Stepdaughter!Reader, Daddy Kink, Smut, DDLG, drug use reference, cougar/cub relationship, older man/younger woman

Chapter 1:

Your mother, recently widowed for the second time, sat you and your younger brother down on the living room sofa because she had an important announcement to make. She even had your older brother, who was serving as an officer for the Peacekeepers in 12, on video call for the special announcement.

An announcement that would change the rest of your life.

“Children, I'm getting married to the Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow.”

“What the hell?...” Your younger brother, Darius, trailed off in disgust.

“Mother, I went to the Academy with that guy! He's too fucking young for you!” Your older brother, Rein, shouted.

“Oh my God, you're a cougar!” You exclaimed, trying but failing not to laugh. You found it a bit funny that your mother has managed to snag a man your older brother's age. Who would've thought. Maybe all those facelifts paid off after all…

“Will you children stop it?” Your mother scolded all three of you. “Coriolanus is a nice man who's about to declare a Senate run. He's very successful and mature for his age.”

“Sounds like he's freaky to me.” Darius, who was 13, remarked.

Oh, if only you all knew how ‘freaky’ Coriolanus Snow was. And he wasn't truly into cougars freaky either.

Snapping his fingers, causing the screen on his end in the Peacekeepers base to crackle, Rein said, “Lil bro’s right, man has to be freaky to wanna marry somebody old enough to be his mother.”

“Maybe he really likes her.” You shrugged, trying to put out any fanning fires before they flare up.

Oh boy…if only you knew who Coriolanus really liked. And it wasn't your mother, that's for sure.

“Or maybe he's marrying her for father's money?” Darius popped up with another theory.

“He was named Strabo Plinth's heir for being best friends with the man's only son. I don't see why mother's money would mean anything to him.” You told everyone, since you didn't think that a rich man would be a gold digger.

“Coriolanus Snow was always a shifty bastard.” Rein spat out in disgust. “Walked around with a stick up his ass in the Academy.” Your brother mocked the blonde your mother's now engaged too. Leaning in closer, so that his face was almost pressed up against the camera screen, he revealed, “Heard that he was given an extremely early discharge instead of being shipped to 2 for officer's training- which I'm glad for cause I would've strangled that pompous motherfucker if I had to do my training with him- cause Plinth desperately needed an heir.”

Your mother shook her head, only to order in a fed up tone, “Will all of you calm down? Whether you like it or not, I'm marrying him and he's going to be your stepfather.”

A week before the wedding you moved into Coriolanus' penthouse. It wasn't the 12th floor Corso penthouse he was raised in either. No, it was a new top floor penthouse in downtown Capitol City; in one of the Luxe Buildings. Actually, it was in the same building your friend from the Academy, Odysseus Odair, lived in.

When the Avox answered the door, your mother strolled on in like she was a queen. “Coriolanus, we're here!” She called out to your soon to be new stepfather as you and Darius walked inside of your new home.

“Rein’s right, dude looks shady as fuck, sis.” Darius whispered to you as Coriolanus came strutting down the hall in a deep red 3-piece suit, hair short on the sides and slicked back in a tight coif. “I don't trust him as far as we can throw him.”

“Be nice. He makes mom happy and he looks-” You began to tell your baby brother, only for him to cut you off with, “If you dare try to tell me that he looks happy too, then don't.” Looking between Coriolanus giving your mother a peck on the cheek, which looked more like the kiss of Judas then affectionate, and you, Darius said, “He looks like what I imagine Lucifer did before he fell from grace.”

“Don't call him Lucifer.” You chastised your brother.

“What? If the name fits…” He sing-songed with a shrug.

Coriolanus said something to your mother, only to shoo her down the hall before making his way over to you and your little brother.

“Here comes Satan.” Darius quietly whispered, never moving his mouth- much like a ventriloquist.

Coming to a stop right in front of you and your brother, Coriolanus flashed you a smile. One that was too sweet, too wide, showing off too many pearly white teeth. “Y/N.” He greeted you, your name dripping off his tongue thickly, causing your heart to race. If he was handsome looking at a distance, hell…he's hotter up close. And the way he just said your name? Holy shit…

Turning to your brother, Coriolanus’ face turned to stone. His voice was cold and clipped as he greeted him with a backhanded, "Oh, Darian isn't it?”

“Darius.” Your brother quickly corrected the tall platinum blonde looming over the two of you.

“Ah, yes, that's right.” Coriolanus nodded his head in a dismissive way. “Darius, the Avox will show you to your room.” He told your brother before snapping his hands and ordering the nearby Avox to, “Show Darius here to his room. Also, make sure his things are unpacked.”

The Avox took your brother upstairs to show him to his room while Coriolanus gave you a lingering look. A look that made your stomach do somersaults.

“I'll show you around your new home.” He told you, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you across the room.

“Thank you, but you don't have to do that. I know you're busy with your upcoming Senate campaign.”

“I'm your daddy now, my sweet baby girl, and daddy’ll always have plenty of time for his baby.” Coriolanus told you with a glint in his icy eyes and a husky tone in his voice. Perhaps too husky…

You didn't say a word, just let him show you the living room before bringing you into the kitchen. “We have a cook, so if there's anything special you want don't be shy to request it.”

“Is our housekeeper, Marisol, here?” You innocently asked, since you didn't see the woman (originally from 2) in the penthouse. You had assumed she'd be moving with you, since she lived with your family in your old townhouse.

“Yes-” Coriolanus heavily sighed while directing you out of the kitchen. “About that. Well, she missed her family back in the districts so she decided to go back.”

That was a lie. Marisol didn't decide to go back to 2. Coriolanus sent her back. In a pine box. Because she was too dangerous to be kept alive and around you. She cares about you too much, was warm and motherly to you. He knows that the former housekeeper would warn you away from him. Hell, would probably fight him- all to protect you from his plans.

Yes, his dark plans to finally have you.

And by have you, well, Coriolanus wants to take your innocence. He wants to be the first and only man to fuck you. He wants to be your lover, your confidant, your other half, your man.

He can't have some District 2 immigrant housekeeper ruining his plans either. Not when everything's perfectly set in place.

Yea…

Coriolanus isn't marrying your mother because he likes her, he's marrying her to get close to you. All because he's obsessed with you. And the thought of having you call him Daddy while he pounds your pussy drives him wild.

You could say that Coriolanus has a bit of a daddy kink. One that he plans on enacting with you real soon. You're 18 and you'll be graduating from the Academy soon. Now's the perfect time to get everything he wants.

After seeing the first floor of the penthouse (yea, the grand thing has 2 floors!), which included your mother sitting out on the patio deck with a cocktail in one hand and cigarette holder in the other, Coriolanus led you up the sleek, modern staircase- that had a glass wall bannister. Instead of leading you to your room, he took you over to the balcony- which had a glass wall as a railing.

“All of this is yours, my darling.” Coriolanus whispered, breath hotly fanning your ear, as his hard muscled chest pressed against your back. His large, calloused hands were on top of yours, which were holding onto the railing, as you looked down at the first floor of the penthouse. He nuzzled your hair with his prominent nose while letting out a husky promise off, “Anything you want, you desire, Daddy’ll get it for you, sweet baby girl.” His thumbs run over your knuckles as he lightly grinds his hard bulge into your ass. “Daddy’ll take such good care of his precious baby girl, now that you're all mine.”

Your brain began to explode. What the hell?! What's going on?! Is your stepdad (well soon to be stepdad in a couple of weeks) coming onto you? Yes, he's your older brother's age (they went to the Academy together), but he's marrying your mother. This can't be happening!

Oh, but yes, yes it is.

It's happening!

Coriolanus, knowing that he has to show you to your room, pulled away from you. You let you a breath you didn't even know you were holding, but you also felt a slight tingling feeling between your legs. A dampness. You know it's wrong it let Coriolanus words affect you so strongly, but they did.

“Come on, Y/N.” The platinum blonde god of a man told you, grabbing your hand and dragging you away from the balcony. “I need to show you to your room.”

“Okay.” You simply said, voice trembling a bit from the slight ache in your core.

Damn him for turning you on just a moment ago.

Coriolanus smirked at hearing the slight tension in your voice. He liked that he was making you all hot and bothered. Having such power over you thrilled him, gave his already too big ego a boost.

He pointed to a bathroom, only to tell you that it was yours before coming to a stop at your room. Across from your room were intricate French doors, trimmed in gold vining roses. With a wolfish grin, Coriolanus gestured to the doors across from your room and told you, “That's my room, my darling.” Pinning you to your door by holding your hands above your head in one of his large hands; leaning his head to ghost his lush lips over the shell of your ear, he huskily coos, “It's my room, all mine, so you're allowed to come in and spend time with me anytime you want.”

“But-” You began to object to his forward come on, since he was marrying your mother soon, but he cut you off by placing a finger on your lips. Grinding his hard bulge, which was very sizable, into you, he lustfully declared, “My room’s my own, sweet girl, so I assure you that we won't get caught.” Your eyes went wide, causing him to nibble at the sweet spot behind your ear. “I know you want to fuck me as badly as I wanna fuck you, Y/N. I can hear your labored breathing and can feel you clenching your thighs; they're rubbing against my legs.

“Coriolanus, you're marrying my mother and you're-” You began to try and reason with him, only for him to grab your chin in his hand. Squeezing it harshly, he confessed, “I don't care about that old whore. Helenium’s only a means to an end; you're the one that I want. That I crave, that I want to bury my cock deep into; fuck full of children.”

“We can't do that, Cor-” You started to say, only for him to curtly cut you off with, “Call me Coryo or Daddy.” Caressing your cheek, he lustfully smiled, “You'll be calling me Daddy while I fuck you, baby girl.”

Oh boy…you're in for it now.

You felt the heat pooling deep inside of you. Your pussy ached with such want, one that you've never felt before. And even tho you knew it was wrong, you needed relief. God, you needed to find a way to get yourself alone in your room so that you could play with your pussy.

As if he could read your mind, Coriolanus rolled his hips against yours, causing you to stifle a moan, while telling you, “You want to hide in your room, fuck your fingers, but you don't need to do that anymore. Not when you have Daddy to fuck you; make you feel good.”

The offer was tempting, but there was just one catch.

“I'm a virgin, Coryo. I-” You began to explained, only for Coriolanus to press a kiss to your lips, shushing you. All words died on your lips, causing Coryo to rest his forehead against yours and say, “Don't worry, sweet girl, Daddy’ll pop your sweet cherry when you're ready.” Your heart raced in your chest as he told you, “Daddy'll feast on your pussy, finger fuck you, and teach you how to suck cock- like a good baby girl- tonight.”

The sound of a doorknob turning and a door beginning to open caused Coriolanus to back away from you- as if he’d been burned- and scurry off into his room, leaving you leaning against the door of yours, as a nearby door slammed shut followed by footsteps coming up the hall. You just sighed, turned around, and went inside of your room.

You expected to see your things in your room, or at least boxes with your things in it, but instead you're met with a room that was baby pink. Actually, it wasn't just baby pink, but it was covered in girly decor. The furniture was white, the duvet was pink rose print, the satin sheets pink, and the pillow cases pink roses with pink ruffles. A large white mirror sat on top of a white vanity that had a vase with a single white rose perched on it, along with white pearls, and a silver compact. You also have a wooden hair bow organizer on the wall filled with bows and ribbons in various shades of white, cream, red, pink, and rose prints.

And when you inspected your closet, to see if maybe your clothes were unpacked, you noticed that you had an entirely new wardrobe. Instead of your usual clothes, your large walk-in closet was now filled with mini skirts, dresses, blouses, and sweaters in various shades of cream, white, and pink. There were even a few red items amongst the mix too. And all of your shoes were replaced with Mary Jane’s in a few different shades and a pair of designer black kitten heels. You know, the ones with the red bottoms. And don't forget about the shelf filled with designer handbags in every size in the colors of white, cream, pink, and red.

Yes, red! You had about 20 new handbags and at least 5 of them were red!

Oh my God, Coriolanus did all of this for you…

It made your head spin.

A knock sounded at your door, causing you to call out a simple come in. You expected Coriolanus to strut thru the door, but instead your little brother, Darius entered.

“Sis, daddy dearest is a fucking whackbag. He gave me a closet full of new, snobby clothes and a handbook on how to behave properly like a Snow.” Darius told you as you sat down on your vanity chair. Taking in the decor of the room, he huffed, “And he's made you the croquette aesthetic princess.” Shuddering, he waved his hand about and said, “The walls look like they've been painted in pepto bismol.”

“Darius, stop. He's just trying to be nice.” You defended Coriolanus without even thinking twice about it.

Did you secretly desire the forbidden fruit? The man whose obsession with you has led him to marry your mother. Just to get you under his roof; in his bed.

Yes.

Yes you did.

And whether you fully know it yet or not, you're sneaking into his room tonight to see if he's bluffing about what he wants to do to you.

Wandering around your room, Darius scoffed. “There's nothing nice ‘bout Satan, sissy.”

“Don't call Coryo Satan, Darius.” You scolded your brother as he opened up your dresser drawer.

“Coryo?” He asked, brow raised. “I see he managed to win you over. What'd he do, promise to give you your own black Amex?” Darius sarcastically asked, only to slam the drawer he was rooting thru shut. “That sick fuck gotcha a lingerie drawer full of lacy stuff.”

“I doubt he got it. Maybe his cousin picked them out for me, she is a stylist.”

“Yea, maybe.” Darius nodding, all the while making a mental note to keep an eye on how your new stepdaddy acted around you.

Mhm…

After seeing that panties drawer, well, your little brother didn't trust Coriolanus around you. Not that he trusted the guy to begin with.

Late that night, when everyone was asleep, you found yourself in Coriolanus' room; writhing in his bed with his head buried between your legs. Your hands clutched his platinum blonde curls tightly, letting out little mewls as he lapped at your soaking cunt. His nose bumped against your clit, causing your hips to buck-chasing your pleasure.

“Oh…Daddy…” You moaned as he began to messily eat our pussy, his head moving side to side vigorously. Oh god, could Coriolanus eat cunt. He was a natural at it; born to do it. And his skill was going to make your eyeballs roll into the back of your head, was going to make you cum for a third time.

The first time he made you cum was when he had you pressed against his bedroom door, panties pulled to the side with his long, large fingers stuffed deep inside of your pussy. The second time he has you cumming was just moments ago, when he was tongue fucking you.

Coriolanus loved hearing you call him Daddy in the bedroom. It made his hard cock even harder, of that was possible. It was such a turn on. Yes, it was dirty and taboo to be fucking with his soon to be stepdaughter (twisted even), but he didn't care. Coriolanus always did what he wanted; society be damned.

Hell, with his silver tongue he had turn society to his will. Make and change the rules. So, he's not worried about the Capitol finding out about his dark, kinky side when it comes to you- his sweet little stepdaughter. His baby girl.

He's got a plan in place of how to navigate his marriage and the corruption of you. Eh…he doesn't plan on being married that long. He just needs to find the opportune moment to get rid of your mother. Of course, after he's married to her for a little while (just long enough to get his grubby hands on all of her money; her assets, and your brother's inheritance that he tricked her into signing over to him in an updated will).

Coriolanus poisoned your first stepfather, General Prometheus Byzantine because he refused his offer of courtship for you. The General laughed in his face; told him that he'd get to you over his dead body. He also told Coriolanus that his stepchildren (you and your older brother, Rein) would not be inheriting anything from him or your mother, that your little brother, Darius, would get it all. That Coriolanus was better off finding a proper Capitol girl- perhaps one closer to his own age, to marry.

But the stoic platinum blonde didn't want just anybody, he wanted you. And he'd do anything to get you. Which’s working so far, considering he's devouring your cunt like a starving man.

“Coryo…Daddy…please…” You begged, on the verge of cumming again, as you felt the knot burning low in your depths begin to tighten

Resting his head against your thigh, he lustfully told you, “Daddy's got you, baby girl. Daddy's gonna make you cum again.”, before sucking hard and fast on your clit and pistoning two of his long fingers in and out of your cunt; curling them just right to hit that spongy spot deep inside of you.

And while your chest is heaving, moans are spilling out of your mouth, and your hips are bucking like wild, Coryo’s feasting on you like your cunt as if he hasn't eaten in years. Your juices taste so good to him, so intoxicating. He can honestly say that your pussy’s the best he's ever tasted (and he's eaten a lot of pussy); he'll even say that he craves it's sweet, tangy nectar on his tongue now.

Oh, and how eating your cunt has him so turned on. So achingly hard, that he's roughly grinding into the mattress, desperate to seek some relief. But the sloppier he eats you out, drawing moans and mewls from your sweet lips, the harder and faster he humps into the mattress. The silk sheets teasing his cock, which was trapped in his boxer briefs.

Suddenly, the tension inside of you snapped and you were cumming. Mixed moans of Coryo and Daddy filled the air as your hands tangled in Coryo’s blonde curls, shoving him deeper into your cunt as you rode out your high.

The scent of your cunt, your juices soaking not just his tongue, but his face, and you calling his name sent Coryo over the edge; had him cumming in his boxer briefs.

Once you relaxed and let go of his hair, Coryo got up and stripped out of his underwear (he couldn't wear cum filled boxer briefs all night) and then rejoined you on the bed. Laying next to you, he held his arm open- inviting you to snuggle up into his side. Having never been with a man or experienced aftercare before, you just stared at him questioningly. As if you weren't sure whether to slide up next to him or not.

“Y/N, my darling rose, come here.” Coriolanus instructed, patting the spot next to him before stretching his arm out again; making room for you.

“Okay, Daddy.” You nodded, scooting your body to lay flush against him.

Wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, he chuckled, “You don't have to call me that all the time, baby. Just when we're fucking around.”

“So, outside of the bedroom you're Coryo then.” You concluded, resting your head on his chest.

“Unless you want me to fuck your brains out somewhere risky, where we might get caught, then yea- save Daddy for in here.”

“So, you have a Daddy kink “ You stated, not asked, as Coryo started to run the tips of his calloused fingers up and down your spine.

“Yes, and I'm also a Dom.” He stated, as if he was telling you what degree he earned in University, before listing off the other kinks he has. “Kink wise, I'm into spit play, impact play, anal play, and degradation.”

What the fuck have you just gotten yourself into? That's a lot of stuff he's into. And, well, you have no idea what any of that stuff is.

“Oh…” You trailed off.

“Hey, little dove, I know you're new to this so don't worry about all the things I like. We'll ease you into it; even find out if you like something I haven't mentioned.”

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding against his chest. A chest that looked like it was sculpted by Michelangelo.

You two cuddle together for a tad bit longer, just talking about little things. But then, you let out a yawn and the platinum blonde man knew it was time to send you on your way; back to your own room across the hall.

It was a good thing that your mother had a master suite downstairs, otherwise all of your moaning might've woken her up. Unknown to both you and Coryo, your little brother Darius (at the age of 13) had a bit of a drug problem. He developed it shortly after his father, Prometheus, died. So, since he was strung out in his bedroom down the hall, your moans didn't wake him up. Infact, a bomb could go off and it won't wake up Darius.

Coryo had no idea that marrying your mother, a week after your first encounter with him, in a scheme to get all of her money along with your younger brother's inheritance (In order to give you what he felt you rightfully deserve) was going to give him the family the reporters, media outlets, and political opponents and rivals needed to skew his golden boy image. To screw up his Senate campaign.

Looks like the only thing Snow's landing on top of is you.

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redflagshipwriter · 4 months

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Nest Swap ch 1

Little Tim wakes up in big Tim's apartment.

The idea came from this chain started by @ew-selfish-art and the contribution by @faeriekit

(repost of something that's currently just in a reblog chain)

His first observation was that this wasn't his house.

Tim was new to detecting, but he thought that was a pretty dang salient observation.

He didn't actually remember going to sleep. It didn't feel like he woke up here, either. He just suddenly noticed he was sitting somewhere he'd never been in his whole 9 years of life.

Very weird! Pretty neat, though.

Tim prowled around in his socked feet in total silence, investigating by the little light that came in through mostly shut curtains. He wasn't in his own clothes, which was kind of scary. He had to keep hiking up his sweatpants to keep them on, and he rolled down his socks three times to tighten them up. At least the floors didn't creak at all, even when he stepped on the dark wood panels in between dark red rugs. It made him feel more secure to move around quietly.

He was in an apartment that seemed relatively expensive but new, no antiques or family heirlooms. It was an open plan, with floating stairs and a white sofa. It was also sterile, as if no one really lived in it. It was clean in the same un-lived in way his house was. Someone professionally cleaned this apartment.

Tim was really, really careful not to make any mess.

Theory one: he had been kidnapped. It seemed pretty sound. He went to bed at home, and he woke up sitting on a strange sofa. Danger alarms were going off.

He looked around for a house phone to call for help. There was none. Troubling.

On the other hand, Tim opened the apartment door to the hallway and stuck his head out. He could see sunlight coming in through the huge lobby windows.

…Okay. He was going to consider that a viable escape route. He glanced at the side of the door where there was a pair of shoes. They were big but he could probably use them in a pinch.

So. He could just walk out at any time. He frowned. That wasn't very good kidnapping practice. He would plan a much better restraint system. Like, a rope would be a good place to start, or maybe breaking the little bones in his feet?

“This is so disappointing,” Tim muttered to himself. “I'm not even being ransomed?”

Just… Some effort would be nice.

Hmm. He didn't want to believe anyone that incompetent had managed to transport him into Gotham proper from Bristol while he slept. So. Tim formally recategorized his kidnapping theory to a suspected no.

It was undeniable that he'd been moved in his sleep, which was pretty classic. But the counter evidence? The new location looked pretty easy to escape, if he was willing to get his socks dirty outside.

Conclusion: This probably wasn't a conventional kidnapping. What else was there?

Theory two: he hit his head or fell asleep while he was out birdwatching, and some good person took them into their house to keep him safe.

That neatly explained why he was in the actual city. Tim ran his fingers through his hair looking for a bump. He wasn't sure if he found one or not. Maybe his head was just kind of oddly shaped. Troubling. Maybe he should go to the doctor about that.

It would have been helpful information either way if there had been another human being around to talk to.

There were signs that someone lived here. Tim poked around in the closet and in the fridge, building a mental profile for the resident.

One person lived here, and they were clearly kind of a loser because they had no photos of friends or family up. The jacket hanging by the door told Tim they were either an average sized woman or a small man. They couldn't cook at all, which was excellent because that meant there was a really great variety of ready to eat food. Tim snacked on string cheese and a can of soda while he flipped through the books on the shelves. He pulled a couple off to check for secret compartments. Nope. Just books.

“Boring,” Tim said to himself.

They were all books about things like business and management. It was the type of self-aggrandizing garbage that his parents made fun of: memoirs that you knew damn well that person hadn't written, manifestos on the virtues of hard work from someone born into the financial elite, and how-to's directed at an audience who had no personal shame.

Momentarily, he entertained the fantasy that he had been kidnapped by someone who was going to mold him into the ideal Drake Industries CEO, someone who wouldn't jet off across the world to follow a passion. The suspects were the entire board of directors.

Kidnapped theory redux: the Board of Directors did it. Evidence?

Tim sat down and made a chart for his thoughts, quantifying how much each person had been inconvenienced by his parents’ absence in the last fiscal year. He concluded that Mr. Morrison might hate his parents enough to do it, but the projected timeline was beyond his scope. Tim didn't think he had it in him to plan that far out.

So, the apartment owner was just a boring person. Tim made a note. Theory two was looking pretty good. The person who lived here kind of sucked at life but they were probably really nice.

Something started beeping. That was interesting. He followed it to the bedroom that he hadn't been brave enough to poke around yet. There was a weird tablet on the bedside table. He picked it up and it unlocked automatically. Wow, the security was so bad. He felt embarrassed on behalf of the absent apartment owner.

The screen showed an email from someone called Tamara Fox.

“Tim, can you get me the numbers from the acquisition in Peru?”

He blinked at it. Was the person who lived here also named Tim? Surely she wasn't actually asking him. He looked around uncertainly.

There was still no one else. The blinking display on the alarm clock told him that it was half past noon, and no one else was in the apartment.

…. poor Tamara probably really needed that information, if she was asking for it in the middle of the workday. Tim sat down on the bed and started putting together context clothes to figure out what Miss Fox was talking about. Her email signature had her title at Wayne industries listed, so that was a pretty big clue. He had access to a team calendar that showed meetings and ongoing projects, which he used to narrow it down.

When he figured it out, he sent her back an email and sat back in satisfaction. A moment later, he realized that the email account had an attached auto signature. It claimed to be Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

What.

He stopped breathing and momentarily considered that he had traveled to the future and this was really his apartment, but the name was impossible. There was no way he was going to marry either one of the Waynes. Bruce and Dick were kind of old. Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought. Gross.

So, no. He wasn't Tim Drake-Wayne. “...It must be an inside joke,” Tim decided. “It seems really unprofessional.”

Tim was a little disappointed that he wasn't the boss of everyone, but at least he wasn't in a troubling marriage with a huge age difference. He had another cheese stick about it and the feeling went away. Ah, good. Maybe that was how Mom dealt with Drake Industries: she distracted herself until she didn't feel bad about putting it on the back burner. It was a good tactic. He'd need more cheese sticks. He made a mental note to figure out how to replace these ones.

He found a loose blanket on a side chair and tied it around his shoulders, because the apartment was pretty chilly.

The email dinged again. Tim dragged his blanket cape back into the bedroom and stared at the tablet, lost in thought.

He didn't mean to be annoying. He really didn't. He knew people hated it when you got in their stuff. But the thing was: this guy got a lot of emails. And he wasn't here to answer them, which was pretty rude of him, honestly. It seemed like his job needed him a lot.

Maybe when he got back, he would be mad at Tim for looking at his stuff.

On the other hand, maybe he would appreciate it. Tim told himself that it would be fine, and he manned that email account until the end of business hours at 5:00 p.m. Then he gave a luxurious stretch and went to find something interesting in the freezer that he could microwave.

His feelings about the email account had changed, after the hours spent together. It was their mutual email account now. Tim was willing to fight about it. He was emotionally attached to that email. People asked him all sorts of questions there, and he got to answer. It was pretty fun.

The apartment looked a little friendlier in the early evening light. He crossed it again and pushed a chair up against the deep freezer so that he could root around inside.

“Omigod, lasagne!” Tim ripped the package open in his excitement. Today was the best. He liked this place. Maybe he'd get to stay there when the owner came back to look at their shared email account.

While the lasagne heated, he went back to checking for fake books on the shelf. They were all disappointments. He did finally notice that there were pets here.

“I should feed you,” Tim told the fish, because he was really fixing this guy's life. The fish didn't pay him any attention. The microwave beeped completion, so he went back and got his lasagne. He held it in one hand and ate while he searched for fish food. When he found it, he stuck his fork in the lasagne to free up a hand and shook flakes into the water.

A secret compartment in the floor opened up.

Tim froze. He took a step back. He looked around the apartment, as if someone was going to materialize.

“…I might as well go see,” he told himself. “They're already gonna be mad that I answered our email.”

Down he went.

#red nest swap #dc fanfic #tim drake #tim drake deaged

446 notes · View notes

spamgyu · 6 months

Text

RED STRING THEORY // Hansol x Reader Oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates weren't real. This wasn't a fantasy world... But somehow, the world wanted them together. Giving them one too many chances to be together. Almost as if there was a little string that connected them to one another PAIRING: Idol!Hansol x Reader GENRE: A very LONG fluff.

There is a popular belief that there is one person you are destined to be with regardless of time, place, and circumstances.

A person is born in to this world connected to their other half by this invisible red string. No matter how knotted and jumbled this string got, it was never broken – because in the end, it will always be them that would be destined for each other.

Y/n had grown up with her grandmother telling her and her older sister this folklore; standing firm on her belief that her and their grandfather were destined lovers and had proclaimed that one day, the two girls would find their way to theirs.

The two had taken their grandmother's words a with a grain of salt. More now that their father and mother had a very messy divorce, leaving the two to be solely under their mother's care.

But the older woman didn't care if the two girls huffed and puffed about her tales that she told each summer they paid a visit. A regular occurrence of their mother shipping them out to her home country; claiming it was good for them to be in touch with their roots instead of rotting away in their rooms during summer break.

Plus, it was far better than making the journey to Chicago where their father had relocated with his new girlfriend.

It was just like old times.

Except, now they were no longer required to have their grandparents accompany them as they explored the large city. They had the freedom to run about the streets, spending hours on end at the computer shop, biking along the river, and spending all their allowance at the local convenience stores.

"I don't think we have enough money." Y/n looked down at the basket of snacks her and her older sister have filled.

Her sister agreed with a nod. "Put back some chips."

Y/n pouted, reaching down to grab three bags of honey butter chips she had carelessly thrown in; trudging to the next aisle where they had been placed.

"Are you going to buy all that?" A young boy no older than fifteen asked, pointing at the bags in her arms. Unlike the boys from the neighborhood, he had looked like someone from back home. She took in his disheveled appearance, his hair was almost like a helmet on his head; the sweat on his forehead causing some of the strands to stick together.

Yuck.

Blinking slowly, y/n tilted her head to the side trying to comprehend what he had asked. She knew the language, just not well enough to understand when someone was speaking fast.

He must have grown up here.

"Hello?" He waved his hand to gain her attention.

"Sorry." She mumbled, rushing to place the chips back on the shelf.

"Weirdo." He said underneath his breath, grabbing a bag.

"Excuse me?!"

Eyes growing wide, the boy turned to face her – ears and cheeks red. "Heh?" He flashed a shy grin and peace sign before running away to the front of the store.

Y/n dismissed the small interaction with the young boy – not before ranting to her older sister about how rude he was to someone who was clearly from not the area.

Teens were rude and arrogant at that age anyways.

It was her last day before heading back west when she had another run in with the teen. She was reaching for a can of grape drink when another hand brushed against hers; causing her to quickly retract her hand – mumbling a soft apology and motioning for the person to go ahead.

"Here." He extended his arm to offer the girl the can, recognizing her from weeks ago.

Their first small interaction that had left him flustered as he made his way back to the practice room. He was told specifically by the staff to be careful of how they portrayed themselves during their time outside the green room, in case they were to debut.

No future idol wants negative stories from strangers as a new comer. One story can easily cause a snowball effect and become not only the downfall of one member but the group as a whole.

He knew their conversation wasn't much of a headline, but he also knew how easily the public villainized a celebrity for something so miniscule.

He did not want to risk it.

The young teen had gone back nearly every day before practice in hopes to run into the girl, wanting to change whatever impression he had originally made.

"Thanks." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile before turning her heel to head for the register.

"Sorry about the other time!" He called out.

"I don't care." She called back, handing the cashier the change she had fished out from her pocket – not bothering to look back at the dumb struck boy stood at the refrigerated drinks aisle.

Crisis averted.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

It had been years since he had been back in the city where his parents had met. Not to mention years since he had given a proper break.

Thanks to their group's success over the past two years since debuting, they were granted a month and half of down time. No practices, no variety show guesting, no filming.

Just quiet time.

The first in a very long time.

Each and every member agreed that they would use the first half of this break to work in their team and the latter half with their own families.

Vernon could not be anymore grateful that his mom had decided this meant flying back New York for a change of scenery and pace.

For once since his debut, he felt like a normal teen; waking up at noon, exploring the city by himself with no set schedules, and eating whatever his heart desired.

"You're staring." His sister nudged him, breaking his gaze from the girl behind the counter who was far too busy taking everyone else's order to notice that he was practically burning a hole into her skin.

"She looks familiar, doesn't she?" He nodded to the girl.

His sister follower his eyes before giving him a look. "No she doesn't."

"I swear, I've seen her before."

Sofia snorted, rolling her eyes at her brother.

He could be a dits at times.

"You wish." She took a step towards the counter, placing her order.

"And for you?" The girl smiled, using her customer service voice that she had gotten down to T since applying for the cafe.

"Oh uh–" He glanced up at the menu, scratching the back of his neck. He had become too preoccupied trying to figure out why the girl in front of him had looked like someone he had seen before that he had completely forgotten the reason why he and his sister decided to drop by in the first place.

Coffee.

"He'll have an iced mocha." His little sister interjected, seeing that her brother seemed still be buffering by her side.

"$10.78 please."

"Vernon." Sofia nudged him yet again, this time a little harder, signaling for him to pay.

"Right." He cleared his throat, digging into his back pocket to pull out the plastic card from his wallet. "Here you go."

"Is he okay?" The girl joked, taking the card from his had.

"He's allergic to girls."

"Am not!" He cried, now fully present.

"Okay well then don't be a freak."

Y/n awkwardly laughed at the two's sudden bickering, handing the form of payment back. "Drinks will be ready at the side."

"Thanks– wait, do I know you?"

"Oh my god." Sofia grumbled, slapping her hand on her forehead in embarrassment.

"Um.... No." Y/n replied, coming out as more of a question. "Are you trying to hit on me?"

"Wha– No! Oh my god no!" His eyes wide, shaking his head quickly.

He was never good with girls.

Or strangers.

Unless they were his fans; all thanks to their media training and fan service lessons.

She raised her brows. "Should I be offended by how quickly you said that?"

"Oh my god oh my god, let's go please you're embarrassing me." Sofia cried, pushing her brother towards the direction where the rest of the cafe customers were stood, waiting for their drinks. "I'm really sorry about him!"

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he was set on figuring out why the girl at the coffee shop looked familiar – dropping by another time.

"Hi familiar stranger." She greeted as he walked into the semi-empty shop, a glaring difference from the other day.

Granted, he stopped by during hours where most would be busy at work or school.

"What can I get you today?"

"Iced mocha please." He said confidently this time.

"Anything else?"

"That's it." Vernon pulled a tight lipped smile, handing her his card.

He was so sure he would have been able to figure it out by now; unable to help himself from staring at her.

Not in a creepy way of course.

No. He was not a creep.

Just annoyed that his brain can't seem to put a finger on why her features looked like someone he has seen before.

He hadn't been in the states in years. Let alone has he been to this particular coffee shop.

But why was she so familiar?

Before he could walk away, he found himself asking the question aloud. Again.

"Are you sure I don't know you?"

"Are you sure you're not hitting on me?" She countered.

He shook his head. "No, I– you just look like someone I know."

Maybe she was a fan.

From a fan sign.

What if she was playing a sick prank, wanting to have her own little cliche moment of bumping into their celebrity crush so that they could organically fall in love with each other.

Not that he was in love.

Nor did he like the girl.

He didn't even know her.

She's pretty. Very pretty– but– oh my god he's staring at her. Shake it off.

"Do you go to fan signs?"

Oh he is about to blow his cover.

"Yeah, totally. I just went to one in Brooklyn– are you stupid?" She replied sarcastically.

She didn't live under a rock. She knew what fan signs were, having heard of them from her cousins when she would visit her grandparents for the summer.

"Taking that as a no." He said slowly.

"Is this some sort of pick up line. You're going to say I look like one of those idols you see when you go to fan signs? It's a really dum–"

He let out a laugh.

If she had only known.

"I told you I'm not hitting on you."

"Says the guy that keeps asking why I look familiar, in a really weird way, I may add."

This was hopeless.

Why did he think he would be able to figure it out this time around?

It was as if there was an itch in his his brain he couldn't seem to scratch. But considering there was no progress in getting any clues as to why the girl looked like some one he had previous encounter with, he'd just have to learn to ignore it.

"I just– it's bugging me– It's whatever." He mumbled, walking over to his drink that was waiting at the counter.

"If it helps, my mom said I have an average face!" She called out.

Little did he know she would later find out who he was, all thanks to her mom's need to watch any and all content that was happening back east.

She had nearly choked on her water that night when his face appeared on screen as her mom watched the latest episode of Happy Together; earning strange looks from both her mom and sister.

Y/n wanted to so badly let the two know that she had not only one but two encounters with the boy on the screen a few months back – for street creds of course.

But she knew they wouldn't believe her.

No one would have.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Moving was one thing.

Y/n didn't mind moving.

Moving to different country.

That was another story.

Due to her grandfather's recent passing, y/n's mother thought it was best to relocate back to their home country to accompany her now widowed grandmother.

Y/n wanted to be selfish.

She wished she had enough guts to fight to say behind, just as her sister had, and complete her masters with her friends. She wished her mom hadn't been fully educated about the transfer program her university had.

If she had only been born two years earlier like her sister, maybe she could have used the "I have a job here that I can't leave behind." excuse.

Don't get her wrong.

She loved her grandmother, and she would do anything for her.

But asking to up root her whole life, to move all the way across the world to leave behind her friends and her boyfriend, was a lot.

Y/n wanted to complain. She wanted to pout. She wanted to throw a fit, like any other toddler who was told they were not allowed the toy they have been asking for but she knew better.

Y/n sucked it up, hiding her disappointment behind a smile each time she came home from yet another day of classes at the university.

A lifestyle she had yet to adjust to.

Pushing past the mess of people, y/n ran down the stairs of the subway station – afraid of missing the train that was set to arrive in just a minute. She had gotten a little too distracted with the shops along the way and lost track of time, forgetting to account for the endless corridors and staircases she had to travel before reaching her set subway line.

She had nearly reached the last step when she felt someone step on the heel of her sneakers, sending her forward in an instant.

Y/n was fully prepared to make contact with the floor, bracing for impact.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a tight grip on her upper arm held her up just enough for her to regain balance.

"Thank you." Y/n turned to the stranger, reaching up to rub where their hand had once been – in attempts to soothe it.

Thanks to their quick thinking, she had been able to save herself from embarrassment and a possible concussion; but that didn't mean it didn't come with a cost.

She could practically feel the bruise forming on her arm where their fingers once was, wincing at the thought of having to explain to her mom and grandmother why she had a perfect hand print bruise on her upper arm.

"Sorry." He apologized sheepishly, coming out as almost a mumble due to the mask that covered half of his face.

"It's fine."

"I uh– let me give you money for uh– cream?"

She raised her brows. She knew there would be a cultural difference once she had moved to the country, but never had she heard of someone being a little too friendly and offering to buy.... bruise relief cream.

It's just a bruise, anyways.

"No need, oh my god." She shook her head, subconsciously reaching over to stop him from grabbing his wallet from his back pocket; instantly retracting her hand when she noticed him flinching at her touch.

Right, this wasn't the west.

They don't do that here.

"Sorry, I– am not."

"From here?" He finished with a chuckle.

"Yeah..."

"I know. I mean– you sound like my sister from back in the states– That's information I didn't need to share."

"Line 6 is arriving." A perky voice blared through the speakers, interrupting the two.

"Shit. Gotta go, don't worry about the bruise!" She spoke quickly, hurrying over to her platform.

To her surprise, the stranger had hopped on to the same cart as her – instantly spotting his all black outfit paired with black fitted hat from a few seats down.

Sh had tried her best to keep herself pre-occupied, looking down at her phone as she pretended to be interested in her instagram feed – not wanting to look like a stalker. It wasn't that she was interested in him.

She had a boyfriend.

No, she was just.... curious.

Something about his voice seemed... familiar.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He was in the same cart as her the following day — easily spotting him as he was dressed in the same ensemble. Just different colors.

This time, he wore light washed jeans and a plain white tee. As opposed to yesterday's all black attire. Not to forget the cap that rested low on his head and mask covering the remainder of his features.

He really did not want to be seen.

"How's the arm?" He asked, taking a seat at the now vacant spot next to her.

Y/n lifted the sleeve of her oversized graphic tee to show him the mark he had left behind. "Purple."

"Sorry again." He winced.

"Saved me from cracking my head open." She shrugged. "You been to New York?"

"Huh?"

Y/n gestured to the embroidered team cap he was sporting.

"Oh uh— kinda?"

"Kinda?" She raised her brows.

"I was born out there." Vernon answered hesitantly.

He wasn't sure if his disguise was, if it could even be considered as one, had been good enough to hide who he really was. He wanted to be careful of any and every information he gave out to her, just in case she was a fan of him and his group.

Not that she seemed to hint that she had any sort of idea of who he was... or seemed to care to figure out who she was speaking to under the mask and hat.

Besides, who's ever heard of an idol taking a subway.

In Vernon's defense, he didn't have a license and didn't feel the need to. It was very rare that he needed to be behind the wheel on his own anyways.

"Cool." She nodded. "Me too."

He let out a soft chuckle, finding her poor attempt to make small talk.... humorous...ly cute.

"What brings you out here?"

"My mom."

"Well yeah–"

"No I'm serious," She laughed, realizing he had probably thought she was making a joke about reproduction. xi. "My mom wanted to relocate."

"Oh my god." He groaned putting his head in his hands out of embarrassment before sitting back up and joining her in her fits of laughter.

"What about you?"

"Also my mom.... and dad."

"Cool."

The sound of the train humming along the tracks filled the silence between the two.

She had yet to figure out how to properly interact with strangers, afraid to come off too strong.

"I'm y/n by the way." She hesitantly brought her hand up, unsure if it was appropriate to shake his hand or not.

"Hansol." He took her warm hands in his cold ones, giving it a quick shake — just in case there had been wandering eyes.

"This is me," Y/n allowed for the train to a complete stop before standing from her seat, turning to give the boy one last smile and wave. "I'll see you around I guess"

She never did.

A part of her wished that he was on the same train again the following day, catching herself craning her neck to see if she could spot him in the mess of crowd that had piled in.

She had done this for three days.

Giving up on the fourth.

Why was she so curious? Who makes a friend on a train?

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n had grown to love the place.

Contrary to what she had made herself believe.

Maybe it was that she had finally adjusted to the culture and the lifestyle of the country, or maybe it was that there was no other reason for her to go back – her boyfriend of three years dumping her on a random Tuesday in May, just days before she was set to fly out to visit him.

So much for the stupid red string theory.

Swearing off relationships, y/n chose to focus on her new job; as a Media Marketing Associate at the new leading entertainment company.

She wanted to make her mother proud – just as her older sister has, who was now a Creative Director for Capitol Records.

Y/n wanted to follow her older sister's footsteps.

At least, if it fate allowed it.

Just before clocking out the night before, her team had received word that one person will be removed – claiming that the workflow needed restructuring.

Y/n wasn't stupid. She knew it meant someone was getting fired.

And judging by seniority, and her being a new hire of two months, she knew she would be the one to be let go.

"Morning." She greeted her coworkers with a sigh.

"Don't look too sad, y/n." Soooyun frowned, knowing that she had nothing but words to offer.

"So much for being a marketing director." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile, reaching over to turn on her computer.

As if it was any use, considering she may have already had her employee access revoked.

She had been fully prepared to pack up her desk by the end of the day, giving her mother a heads up that she may need to cry in her arms once she got home from work.

But fate was on her side.

"No way." She gasped, scanning the email she had opened. "I'm not fired!"

"What?" Sooyun jumped from her seat, walking over to her desk to read over her shoulders. "We are pleased to tell you that you have been selected to join our subsidiary label's marketing tea– this is good news!"

"Oh my god. I thought I was going to be unemployed!" Y/n cried, continuing to scan through the email. "Wait, what floor is PLEDIS?"

"Eight. Good luck. They're a mess." She snickered, walking back to her desk.

"Oh so I might as well have been fired."

"I'm kidding. They're .... working on it."

"I'm drafting my two week notice."

She never drafter her two week notice.

Instead, the department she had been suddenly thrusted into had welcomed her with open arms — despite half of the team having been around since before the label acquisition.

They were all learning the new groove of workflow that HYBE had standardized for a good portion of their subsidiaries' PR and Marketing department, leaning on one another for support during their onboarding.

She had quickly grown to be comfortable with her new team just as she had with the temporary one from two floors above.

"Y/n, it's your time to shine." Her lead grinned, leaning against her desk. "Sales and PR approved of your tour pitch."

"No way." Y/n gasped, her grin matching his.

"I want you to pitch it to the boys."

The grin quickly fell from her face. "No way."

Yn had known each and every boy by name; especially the boy that she had interacted with years back when she was working at the cafe near her home. But she still couldn't help but feel nervous.

She had done minor research on the men she now worked for, but interactions with them in person was different.

Especially now that she was a grown adult with an almost fully developed frontal lobe.

Y/n had yet to meet the group as a whole, having only met Seungcheol and Woozi in passing on the way to the office — tucked far behind the practice room used by the team.

She knew she wanted to move up in the company, meaning that she would be heading meetings regularly. But she had also yet to assimilate to the workplace — let alone the talents she had worked for.

Almost everyone on the team were comfortable with the boys, each having their own stories about how kind and attentive they were to their staff members.

She wanted to ease into it slowly.

Not thrown into the deep end.

Which seemed to have been occurring far more often than she would like.

"Can't I just be the person that clicks the arrow button for the next slide?"

"It's your presentation. You have it memorized."

"I'll teach you."

"I think that will be tough because meeting is in," He glanced down at the silver watch on his arm. "Ten minutes."

Oh she's definitely drafting her two weeks now.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Nervously standing at the end of the very long conference table, y/n fiddled with the hem of her cardigan — waiting for the group of thirteen boys to file in and take a seat.

The growing sound of booming voices grew louder and louder as each seconds passed; signaling their arrival. It was only a matter of milliseconds before they appeared one by one through the doorway — greeting her and Seongho, her team lead who stood beside her.

Of course, he earned chirpier hi's and hello's — being a part of the team for five years now.

Y/n nearly had to fight her eyes from lingering at the him. He had matured entirely, his shoulders now broad, maybe even gotten taller.... and god that jaw.

He looked good.

She quickly averted her eyes down to the device in front of her before anyone caught her stare – which was quite easy as they all seemed quite busy in their own worlds.

Y/n waited until they were situated in their seats, each small conversation finishing as she tapped away on her laptop that was connected to the projector behind her — instantly catching their attention with the bright colors of the mood board she had put together.

She felt like a teacher standing in front of a group of kindergarteners and she felt their gaze on her — some with hands folded in-front and on the table.

Just like kindergarten.

"Hi everyone, name is y/n." She bowed, using her best customer service voice. "I'll be heading today's marketing pitch."

Y/n was about to open her mouth, ready to start with her first slide when a sudden cough attack caught everyone's attention.

It was him.

"You okay?" Mingyu turned to Vernon, letting out a laugh as he patted his back in attempts to soothe him.

"Yeah, swallowed my water wrong." He croaked, earning laughters from everyone.

"Slow down, yeah?" Minghao chuckled.

Vernon nodded, clearing his throat as he adjusted in his seat. "Sorry, uh, y/n please continue."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She didn't know which she liked more about her job. The pay.... or the free food.

Not a day had gone by where she did not passed up taking trip to the company cafe on the third floor to get her daily caffeine fix and sweet little treat from the pastry selection that was baked fresh every day.

Yeah.... it was definitely the free food.

Especially now that she had been appointed to lead the marketing for the group's Japan leg of the tour.

It was her fourth day in a row that she had made her way down to the cafe for the second time since clocking in – deeming that one iced coffee was not enough.

Unfortunately for her, there was a line of at least eight people ahead of her and only two barista's working the counter.

This was going to take longer than the ten minutes she had told her team.

Unbeknownst to her, he was stood second in line – his eyes immediately spotting her when she had entered the room.

Not that he was looking for her.

She was just very easy to spot.

She dressed differently than the rest of the staff.

Her style still very much influenced by western fashion.

"Y/n." Vernon called from his spot.

His voice was very easy to recognize.

Once she locked eyes with him, he motioned for her to stand next to him – cutting the rest of those who stood behind.

Not that they would complain.

"Thank you." She bowed hesitantly.

Y/n had yet to be comfortable around him and the rest of the boys, despite having had frequent interactions since the meeting she had delivered months ago.

She was his age and he had specified that it was completely fine to address him like a friend.

They all preferred their staff seeing them as coworkers, people that they could be friends with, instead of land mines that they had to carefully tiptoe around.

"We'll be seeing each other a lot and we hope you'll be around as long as we are... So please, don't think you have to treat us like kings." The leader said after the meeting, formally introducing the team as a whole to y/n.

"How's planning going?" He asked, making small talk.

In all the times he had a run in with the girl, he hadn't been able to properly converse with her. Mostly because it was either he had a other members with him, who were far more outgoing and vocal – leading the conversations. Or he just didn't quite have time.

He would see her in the halls, giving her a nod as a form of greeting and a quick smile before rushing to the practice room.

The last time he had a proper one on one with her was a year ago... at the subway station near his parent's home.

Though, it was just him that knew of that interaction.

He planned to tell her one day. Thinking it would be a fun fact to bring up one day.

He just needed to find the right time.

"Really good, actually. Stressful. But good." She beamed, wanting to spill all that she had managed to accomplish since being assigned the project.

"I'm excited to see all that you worked on– you and the team."

Pulling out her phone from her phone pocket, she quickly swiped through her emails – double checking to see if anyone had been peering over their shoulders before showing him the screen.

It was rough draft of the train decal she had managed to secure with the subway system in Japan – promoting their multiple shows.

"Are we gong to be on a train?" He gasped, zooming into the file.

"Yeah, just got it approved this morning." She smiled.

"Whoa." Vernon was shocked.

He knew their group had been successful, his bank account being the biggest indicator, but he didn't think it had gotten this far.

Vernon was fully aware that they had gotten quiet big; bigger than what they had imagined during their trainee days. But a train.... with all their faces... set to be traveling throughout the country....? That blew his mind.

"Thank you." He handed her phone back.

"Working on gettin it on a plane too." Y/n replied, stepping up to the counter once the person in front of them had stepped away. "Iced hazelnut coffee please."

"Plane?" He gasped, still standing in his spot, mouth agape.

Y/n didn't think it was much of a big deal, remembering that she had briefly mentioned it during her presentation. Along with the VERY generous budget HYBE and PLEDIS had given the marketing team.

She remembered clearly because Minghao compared it to the Hello Kitty plane he had taken once on the way back to China; unable to help herself from laughing.

"Uh.... he'll have an iced mocha." She turned back to the barista, letting out a soft laugh as she stepped away from the front of the line – Vernon following suit.

She had perfectly remembered his order from that day.

Unable to shake it off. Especially not after she realized who he was.

"A plane?"

"It's not for sure yet."

"A plane." He repeated, coming back down to earth. "Wait I didn't order!"

"Oh I got it."

"Did you get me an iced americano?" He deadpanned, knowing that it had been a stereotypical drink that was a crowd favorite. And considering he was lost in his own world, he figured it would have been the safe choice for her to say.

He hated that watered down tar drink.

"Did you want an iced americano?" Y/n asked slowly, scolding herself for ordering the same drink he had picked out when he was a teen.

How was she going to explain this to him?

Without being an absolute creep...

"No but it's fine, I'll give it to Seungkwan."

"I got you an iced mocha."

Welp.

There goes the bomb.

She began planning her escape route.

"Oh." He was left dumbfounded for a second time.

"Uh.... you seem like an iced mocha guy."

That was convincing.... right?

"Should I be offended?"

"Maybe." She shrugged, letting out a small sigh of relief as she walked over to get their drinks from the counter.

Crisis averted.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n didn't intend to stay past her usual work hours. She wasn't one to work a full twelve hour day, not when she can help it.

The first day of the Follow to Seoul was fast approaching, and though she was on the Japan team, she had grown restless as the big day approached. Each and every single marketing deliverables had to be cohesive through out all the stops, regardless of country or city. And considering it was her that had pitched this overall theme, she couldn't help but take extra hours to ensure any and all loose ends had been perfectly tied off.

Y/n was a perfectionist.

She had taken one last glance at the email she had scheduled to be sent to all the staff members the following morning, containing all information relating to the tour; including posting schedules on social media, announcement of later dates, and merch recap.

Content with herself, she closed out of her browser and collected her belongings – heading for the door.

At least she wasn't the last one on their floor, getting accustomed to the group's late night practices. She had one too many run ins with a few members in the past week, each scolding her for staying past the usual 6pm clock out time.

"Didn't you already get an earful from Seungkwan the other day?" Vernon called out from the end of the hall.

He had stepped out of the elevator and instantly recognized her; a smile appearing on his face.

Because he wanted to tease her.

Nothing else.

Looking up from her phone, she let out a laugh. She was caught.

"Shouldn't you be at practice? You're late." She teased right back.

They had met halfway, both with stupid grins on their faces.

Because of the joke.

"I had schedule before this." He defended.

"I was finishing up the last few details." Y/n countered.

His bottom lip jutted out, nodding in understandment. A habit she had noticed he seemed to have done quite often.

"The last train was 30 minutes ago."

"My mom's picking me up."

"That's cute."

She reached over to give his arm a smack, knowing that he was holding himself back from making another joke.

They had finally crossed the weird line that rested between coworkers that made small talk with one another in the work place and coworkers that you'd consider to maybe... just maybe be okay with hanging out with outside of the workplace.

Not that they have ever.

That was still untouchable territory.

Being an idol and all.

The only time they have spent time outside of the office building was during company dinners. A neutral setting.

Sure, they've spent some lunches at the cafeteria together – Vernon unable to pass up free food when he was far too lazy to go off and find other meals outside of the company.

"Ow! That'll bruise." Vernon cried, grabbing the spot where her hand had landed.

"Oh please. I barely grazed it. I would have to grab you really hard to even leave a mark."

"Like when you fell in the subway?" He snorted.

Y/n brows furrowed in confusion, her head tilting to the side. She had never told him about that day in the subway.

She had never told anyone about it.

It was of no significance.

A minor interaction with a stranger.

"How do you know about that?"

Vernon's eyes grew wide at the sudden slip up. "Huh?"

"I never told anyone about that."

"No– no you definitely told me about it. You were falling and this guy saved you from falling."

Or maybe she had.

... Had she?

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He was screwed.

Not only was he screwed but he owed Mingyu and Dokyeom ₩100,00 ... each.

Vernon had a crush.

A big fat crush that had him grinning like a stupid little kid every time he was near her. Hell, he had caught himself grinning while looking at her instagram.

Which took a lot of convincing and a few specially delivered coffees at her desk for him to even pry out of her.

He would spend hours on end that day carefully swiping through to make sure that he did not accidentally like any of her posts.

His fans were smart. Detectives even.

He knew any movement on any social media did not go unnoticed.

All hell would break loose the second they caught wind of him interacting with anyone but his members or fans.

He had managed to deny all claims that he may be attracted to the newest addition to their staff team, and everyone seemed to have bought it.

All except Mingyu and Dokyeom, who had caught the two one too many times in their own world during her lunch breaks.

Vernon had confidently challenged the two to a ₩100,00 bet to prove that they were wrong.

He didn't think they would win.

It was silly little crush.

But she had texted him earlier that day, wanting to talk after work – claiming that she had to confess something.

Since receiving that text, he had been restless; unable to find a comfortable position on his couch and opted to plan out his outfit instead.

He wanted to look good.

Because she's confessing her feelings right?

And if the feelings were mutual.... then why not? Right?

He's allowed to date.

Everyone else around him had significant others.

Why can't he?

Vernon decided being home was not an option, not while his everyone else was home and able to pick up on his behavior.

Coming up with some lame excuse about wanting to practice one last time before they headed off to Japan for their first show, he made his way to their company's designated floor – waiting in the practice room.

He was grateful that she had asked to meet on the one particular day their day off landed on – their managers agreeing they needed rest more now that the non-stop schedules were kicking off.

Vernon was laying on the couch when he heard the door creak open, his head shooting up – eyes immediately locking with hers. He jumped up and off of the couch; adjusting his shirt.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as she grew closer to him.

It began to beat louder once she was a foot from him, his nose instantly filled with her signature scent.

Burberry HER.

He wasn't weird.

He had complimented her months before and she happily advertised the small roll on version of the product she carried with her at all times.

"I hate not smelling good." She reasoned when he had teased her about it.

"How was work?" He asked.

She shrugged. "We finally announced the Follow train and plane. Your fans made a few jokes about how they hope it was you guys flying it too."

He let out a chuckle, aware of the jokes that their fanbase were capable of making – some even making it into the groupchat whenever either one of them found one good enough to send them to tears in laughter.

"Anyways, I have a confession." She wasted no time getting right to the point. "And I already know you're probably going to distance yourself after, but I don't care. It's been literally bugging me for months now."

"It's okay, I– I think I have something to say too." He wiped his hands on his jeans, feeling them grow moist from the anticipation.

"You do?" Y/n was puzzled.

"Yeah but uh... you go first."

"No, now I'm curious." She laughed, picking up on his nervous demeanor.

She was nervous as well, but his.... was little more off putting; the color on his lips draining.

Vernon was glad they were standing, knowing that his legs would have been bouncing enough to shake the whole room from the anxiety he had been feeling.

He had confessed his feelings to someone before. Why was he so nervous?

She was going to do it as well.

Right?

"I– fine." He sucked in a deep breath, locking his eyes with her. "I um, may have a slight, crush– No actually, no I have feelings for you. Positive ones. You know the one that makes me want to kick your feet and giggle when you text the person you like.... That kind."

Y/n's lips formed into an "o".

That wasn't what she was expecting, though.... she should have guessed the minute she picked up on his strange behavior – mentally comparing it to a high schooler when they were around their crush.

Vernon watched as the girl slowly walked over to the couch, taking a seat. His eyes remaining on her as she sat in silence.

"I'm guessing that you were not going to say the same thing."

She slowly shook her head, still in shock.

Welp.

Time to go on a year long hiatus.

He allowed her for a minute of silence, taking a seat on the far opposite end of the couch; silently drumming his fingers on his legs as he tried his best to keep the voices in his head from jumping into further conclusions.

"So I'm uh– going to head out." He clicked his tongue, standing from his seat.

God this was so awkward.

"Wait!" Y/n her voice cracked, finally blinking away the blank stare she had.

Vernon was halfway to the door when she had called out for him, turning his heel to face her.

"Sorry I was... processing." She ran her fingers through her hair. Y/n had many things to consider.

The thing was, she too had positive feelings for him.

But that was the thing.

She was perfectly fine pining for him in silence. She was okay with the one sided admiration. Y/n was completely okay with having him as her work crush, the reason as to why she was that much more motivated to come in when the days felt like a call in sick type of day.

Because just a minute ago, she didn't know he had felt the same.

But now that he had exposed how he felt, it complicated her false reality.

Not only did she realize she might just have a chance with him... she had a chance with an idol.

Someone who was meant to remain unattainable. Only for fans.

Someone who cannot be seen with anyone of the opposite gender.

Someone who she was definitely not supposed to be dating.

Not that he asked her out.... he just told her how he felt.

"I came here to tell you that we met before." Y/n swallowed, walking over to where he stood. "I– we were teenagers. I was working at a cafe and you and your sister came in. I– I didn't know who you were at the time but a few months later I saw you on TV and– I didn't think I would see you again. Let alone work for you. It's been eating me alive since I saw you in the conference room. More now that we're friends. Or... possible ... crushes? I–"

Now it was his turn to be in shock.

"Do you believe in the red string theory?" He blurted.

That damn red string.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, nodding in response to his question.

Vernon had heard about the red string theory from his mother, she had always entertained all sorts of ideas as such and happily shared it to him and his sister.

He rarely believed in these ideas, such as zodiac signs being able to properly describe someone's personality down to what makes them tick. Listening to his mother ramble on and on out of respect.

"You don't know this but– that day, that you fell at the station... That was me. I was the one that stopped you from falling. That bruise, I– I'm Hansol."

Vernon remembered that day so clearly.

His sister was in town for a quick break from her school back west and he had been paying her a visit at his parent's home – opting to take the public transportation instead of bothering his band of brothers or managers.

He was far too busy trying to keep his profile low as he headed back to his shared apartment when he stepped on the back of her sneakers.

Thanks to his quick reflexes, he had been able to catch her.

He was left in awe of her beauty that day, cursing himself for not approaching her when he had caught her staring from a few feet away.

The second time was purely coincidence.

He was sending his sister off.

He didn't think y/n would be taking the same scheduled train as him.

Vernon wasn't one to take things a sign. But he did just this on time – taking a seat next to the girl.

He didn't think he would see her again.... again.

Especially not as someone heading their marketing meeting.

"I choked on my water that day you were presenting because– I mean, I was surprised that you were there." He continued.

Maybe both her grandmother and his mom were right.

Maybe they did have an invisible string that tied them together.

That must be the only explanation.

"Wait— you— hold up." She reached over, using one hand to hold onto his upper arm; trying to stabilize her now weak knees. "Is this okay? I'm allowed to hold onto— I—"

Vernon felt his ears grow hot, unable to bite back the smile fighting its way to appear on his face. "Yeah this is okay." He nodded.

"Before we circle back to the whole destiny thing," Y/n withdrew her arm back to her side. "I— can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but I... uh— kinda like you too?"

"Kinda ... with a question mark?"

"Okay, I do. I have positive feelings for you."

He felt his heart take a leap.

"Can you give me a second?" Vernon held up a finger before walking over to a corner, letting out a dramatic 'yes!'.

She watched him in awe.... and pure adoration. A larger grin on his face as he made his way back to where he stood.

He was cold and stoic on camera, rarely showing any emotions but she quickly realized that the facade he seemed to put on wasn't who he really was.

Vernon was a dork, an animated and very funny guy who enjoyed teasing her any chance he got. Just like any other boy who had a crush.

There had been countless of times when she found herself wiping away the moisture from her eyes from the stupid corny jokes he told.

"Back to the whole destiny thing."

"It can't possibly be real but... I'll take it. I'll allow it." She laughed.

"You think that little red string is tied to yours?" Bringing his pinky up to their eye line.

"I would hope so."

"Want to test the theory?" He wiggled his finger, earning a giggle from her. "Dinner on me?"

"Let's start with dinner on a plate first."

Vernon's smile fell, using his other hand to fiddle with his pinky.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying to untie the string." He chuckled, breaking character.

"You're a loser." Y/n rolled her eyes.

tag list: @leah-rose03 @yoonzinuhh @musingsofananxiouspotato @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @hanniebanggi

#something different for now lol #vernon x y/n #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon fluff #vernon fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #red string au #hansol vernon chwe #chwe hansol x reader #vernon x oc

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immajustvibehere · 5 months

Text

Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow. I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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autumnshighlady · 5 months

Text

Yes, sir

Eris x female!reader

part of The Professor Series

summary: you've been trying to impress Dr. Vanserra for weeks, and an opportunity presents itself when he offers you private study sessions ;)

warnings: smut, power dynamic, name calling, oral sex (f receiving), thigh riding, face sitting, fingering, inappropriate use of mirror, tw: Ianthe

word count: 6.7k

request/prompt: Eris would undoubtedly be a history teacher, sarcastic at times and rigid

a/n: i got my degree in medieval history so there's a bit of rambling in this fic about my area of study since Eris is a history professor, figured i spent 4 years researching it so may as well incorporate it into this fic lmao feel free to breeze past the reader's monologue about the study material (or read it if you're interested hehe)

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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“Does anyone know why this manuscript was significant to political theory at the time of its creation?”

A few hands raised around you in the lecture hall, yours included. Political history professor Dr. Eris Vanserra paced slowly across the floor, his amber eyes scanning the rows of students for someone to pick on. His red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a look that had more than a few of you swooning. His red button up shirt complimented the brown tweed jacket on his shoulders, an outfit that no doubt cost you more than you made in a month. Dr. Vanserra always had the nicest outfits out of all your professors, never coming to class with a thread out of place.

Over the last few weeks, you had come to terms with the fact that you were harbouring an intense crush on him. You couldn’t help it – he spoke with such elegance, explaining the most boring concepts in a way that had you utterly entranced. Frequently, you found yourself staring at his slender hands, which he often gestured with as he spoke. He was a strict professor, who had no patience for any fooling around during class. But his dry jokes were laced with sarcasm, adding to his charming wit. Everyone tried to impress him – Dr. Vanserra was a distant male, often brushing off students in his office hours as if he wanted as little interaction as possible. He never complimented their work either, a simple head nod being the closest anyone has gotten to positive feedback. He was quick to point out what you did wrong, never beating around the bush.

And so you moved your seat from the back of the class to the front, always making sure to be the first student in the door and the last one to leave. It was tough, with other students just as eager to gain a minute of his attention. But you welcomed the challenge, craving to be the one who broke his rigid exterior and get him to show that he at least had a heart. That included always being ready to answer any questions.

Eris’s glowing gaze landed on you, and your heart fluttered. For a moment, you were sure he would call on you to answer the question. But his gaze came as quickly as it left, landing on the blonde female two seats down from you, Ianthe.

“They’re important because they were written by a woman,” Ianthe said proudly, her annoying voice raising three pitches higher than what you knew was her normal voice. “The only one of its time, too. Proof that women in the elite class were learning to read and write just like the men.”

Ianthe proudly lifted her chin up, satisfied with her answer. Dr. Vanserra took a single step towards her, and she crossed her arms together and leaned her elbows on the table, her big eyes wide as she batted her lashes at the professor. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her lack of subtly, noting how ridiculous she looked trying to push her breasts together to show off her cleavage.

“A weak and shallow take, Ianthe, as per usual.” Eris said, sarcastic disappointment lacing his voice.

You had to cough to conceal your laugh. Ianthe was always trying to suck up to Dr. Vanserra, always humiliating herself along the way yet failing to recognize how foolish she looked.

“Is there anyone who can answer my question with a point that’s actually worth my precious time to listen to?” He continued, surveying the hesitant class.

Your hand shot up once again, and this time the professor’s gaze landed on you. He nodded, his stoic face revealing nothing as he waited for you to make your point.

“It’s the only manuscript we currently possess that’s written by a woman in its time,” You began. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only one to have existed. And the author being our only example of a body of literature written by a woman in its era doesn’t mean all elite women were doing the same. Her husband was a close friend of the emperor’s, acting as one of his closest counsellors. It’s highly likely that her husband’s unusually high status is the reason she was able to read and write.”

Dr. Vanserra nodded. “Carry on.”

You tried to ignore the intensity of his gaze as you scrambled to remember your information. “Well, the manuscript itself gives us insight into the political strife of the realm. Many of our other sources from that era never address the problem because they don’t want the history books to remember the bad times. Not only does she directly address the political issues at hand, but she also inserts herself into the narrative, something no other source from its time does. So while it’s written as a book of advice to her son who’s a political prisoner in an enemy court, it gives us insight into 3 aspects of family in that era: feelings, authority, and consciousness. Which also links back to what we talked about last week regarding the connection between the theme of consciousness within this era’s literature.”

You let out a breath, trying not to shake. The professor continued to stare at you, expressionless, leaving you unsure if your points were completely bogus or not. Finally, Dr. Vanserra dipped his head. “Good.” He said plainly, and Ianthe audibly huffed. “Now speaking of last week’s material…”

Dr. Vanserra continued his lecture, and you felt Ianthe shooting daggers at you with her eyes. But you didn’t care, you were too busy riding the high of your first ever praise from the instructor – anyone’s first ever praise from him, now that you thought of it. You happily scrawled down your notes for the remainder of the period, until the clock struck 9am, indicating class was over.

“I will expect the first draft of your midterm essays in three weeks, do not forget.” Dr. Vanserra said as students began packing up. “It’s going to take me a hundred hours to go through them all, so make them worth the headache it will cause me.”

Students began scurrying out the door, and you were grateful that you had no classes for the rest of the day. You packed up your things more slowly, your books and notepads stacked in an organised pile, just how you liked it. You stepped around the front of your desk and scooped them up in your arms, but quickly collided with a blonde female carrying a very full mug of coffee.

“Oh my goodness!” Ianthe squealed, her voice sweet as honey. “Your notes! I am so sorry hun, let me help you clean that up.”

Anger boiled in your blood, and it took everything in you not to yank her by her blonde hair and drag her face through the spilled mess. “It’s ok,” You forced yourself to say through gritted teeth. “It was an accident.”

“Oopsies!” She chuckled, her blue eyes glittering. “See ya!” She skipped away, miniskirt bouncing with every step. Gods, you hated her.

You looked down at your fallen pile of notes, now drenched in caffeine and completely illegible. Kneeling down, you tried to see if anything was salvageable, but nothing remained. Tears welled in your eyes – weeks of hard work, just gone. You felt your white t-shirt sticking to your chest, now strained with brown.

You hadn’t even noticed Dr. Vanserra approach. His pale, slender hand appeared next to yours, picking up a drenched piece of paper. You looked up, seeing him crouched down in front of you.

“Can any of it be saved?” He asked, her voice still stoic but slightly softer.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak without crying yet.

Dr. Vanserra clucked his tongue. “Unfortunate. You’ve worked very hard on those.”

“Those are all my notes from the last few weeks,” You said quietly, lip wobbling. “Sir… I have nothing to work with for my essay draft now.”

He merely hummed as if deep in thought before grabbing the soaked papers from your hands and standing up. You heard him stride over to the trash bin and lift the lid, tossing the remains of the material inside. His expensive shoes clicked on the floor as he walked back over to you. His hand reached out, coming into your lowered field of view.

You looked up at him through teary eyes, confused.

“Come on, get up.” Dr. Vanserra said, sighing. “She wins if you sit like that, just sulking. So get up and come with me.”

Trying not to tremble, you grabbed his hand. He pulled you up with surprising strength, his hand warm despite the freezing temperature of the room. Wordlessly, he grabbed your bags along with his own, walking out of the lecture hall with long strides. Puzzled, you scrambled to follow, too nervous to say a word. This was the most Dr. Vanserra had ever spoken to you, you didn’t want to risk screwing it up by saying something stupid.

You followed him all the way to his office, shutting the door behind you as you entered the space. Rich tones of red, amber, and green adorned the room, expensive looking furniture and decor scattered everywhere in an organised manner. The office was filled with more candles than you could count, their orange flames flickering gently. Dr. Vanserra set your bags down on one of the chairs before finally speaking.

“Twelve lectures worth of your notes are gone, and you cannot do anything about that.” He said sternly. “So do not cry over it. However, I do not want to see you fall behind and try to redo the notes off of memory alone. You will fail the course if you do so. Therefore, for the next two weeks, we will meet in my office every day at 5pm. Each session we will go over one lecture, and you will redo your notes. We can go slow to ensure you do not miss anything, and you may ask me any questions you need. That will give you only a week to complete your draft, but at least you will not be lacking half the material needed for it. Does this work for you?”

Your jaw went slack. One on one review with the professor? It was the golden ticket you needed to succeed in this course, and you were going to make it count. “Yes, sir, absolutely.” You replied quickly, letting out a breath. “Thank you, Dr. Vanserra, thank you.”

“We are going to be spending a lot of time together over the next two weeks, my dear. You can call me Eris.”

Your heart flipped. “Eris.” You corrected yourself, testing his name on your tongue.

He smirked. “Excellent. Now that we are on a first name basis, I can comfortably tell you that the coffee has rendered your shirt see through.”

The blood drained from your face, and your arms shot from your sides to cover your chest. As luck would have it, you weren’t wearing a bra that day, meaning your nipples were likely visible through the wet white shirt. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You stammered, cheeks flushing red.

“It’s quite alright.” Eris strolled towards a small dresser in the corner of the room, opening up the middle drawer and pulling out a cream coloured polo sweater with a v-neck. “Put this on, I won’t have my student walking around campus with her tits in plain sight.”

You blushed deeply, taking the fabric from him. It was the softest thing you’d felt, and smelled strongly of the cologne you frequently caught a whiff of whenever the professor walked by you. The plainness of his words made your brain go haywire, and you stood there dumbly.

“Unless you want to give me a show, I suggest you turn around and change so I can put your shirt in a bag for you to take home.” Eris said, a hint of mischief behind his amber gaze.

You turned around, reaching down and pulling the ruined t-shirt over your head. You shivered, feeling those eyes burning into your bare back as you carefully held your arm out behind you with the shirt balled inside your fist.

Eris took it, and you heard him turn around and walk away, presumably to grab a bag. You quickly pulled the sweater over your head, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach that danced happily at the thought of wearing your professor’s sweater.

“All done.” You said, turning around. “I’ll get this dry cleaned before I give it back.”

The male only shrugged as he tossed your shirt into a spare grocery bag. “Clean it, keep it, shred it, it matters not to me. I have three more identical to that one.”

“Uh, ok.” You muttered. The idea of keeping his sweater felt wrong, but you were secretly thrilled that he suggested it.

Eris took a seat behind his desk, pulling out books from his briefcase. “Now be gone with you, I have research to do. And remember, 5pm tomorrow. Do not be late.”

“I won’t.” You promised, grabbing your bags and making your exit.

Maybe it was a good thing Ianthe spilled her coffee on you.

************************

ONE WEEK LATER

You tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep hours after your study session with Eris. At first, they had been gruelling. Eris would grill you for every answer you gave him, making sure you could confidently back up your claims. Your brain was exhausted by the end of it, but you were happy. Eris had also given you helpful anecdotes that he hadn’t mentioned to the class. You had twice as many notes as before, and they were twice as helpful.

He was different than when he taught in class. More patient, less demanding. He spoke slower, allowing you to catch up if you fell behind. His strict persona was as rigid as ever in class, but you found he was calling on you more and more to answer questions. It delighted you.

At first, you had sat in the chair in front of his desk. But today, the chair was moved beside his. More than once, your leg knocked against his muscular thigh, and you’d murmur an embarrassed apology. Eris never acknowledged it, only smirked before returning to the material at hand. You still felt the tingling sensation on your own thigh from earlier when he gently squeezed it. You had gotten a tough question right, and Eris had reached down and put his hand on your thigh, quickly squeezing it before retreating.

Your face had gone bright red, and there was no way he hadn’t noticed. Just that one simple action had made your core throb with need. It didn’t help that he had begun calling you pet names, such as ‘my dear’ and ‘love’. You drank them up, his silver tongue making the nicknames sound just right. Every time he said them, it went straight to your core.

Studying with your professor had suddenly become incredibly hard.

You rolled over in your bed once more, hoping that perhaps this side of the sheets would finally bring you sleep. But every time you closed your eyes, all you could think about was Eris’s touch on your thigh, and how it would feel if his hand was higher up, right where you had dreamed about it being. You imagined his slender fingers pumping inside you, filthy words falling from his lips like the first snow of winter, red hair falling in your face was his body moulded over top of yours–

“Get it together.” You scolded yourself. “He’s your fucking professor. It was nothing. Stop overthinking.”

But that didn’t stop you from sneaking your hand between your legs in a last ditch effort to ease yourself into sleep.

************************

A few days later, you checked your outfit in the bathroom mirror at 4:55pm before heading to Eris’s office. You hadn’t slept well last night, so you opted for a casual pair of soft, flowing green pants paired with a simple cream coloured button up. You’d be lying to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t deliberately chosen the pants that seemed to be Eris’s favourite shade of green. It was hard to sleep when all you could think about was how close you were going to be sitting to him the next day.

At 5pm on the dot, you opened the door to his office. “Good evening, sir.” You greeted him, locking the door behind you. It was something he insisted on, claiming he didn’t want his other students barging in thinking you were getting special treatment.

“Hello, my dear.” Eris said. “We’re covering lecture 10 today, I assume you brought the material.”

You nodded, setting your bag next to the desk before making your way around to Eris’s side. You paused, noticing something was missing. “Where’s my chair?” You asked.

“Oh, that thing,” Eris tutted, lips drawn into a faint smirk. “I gave it to my brother for the week. His office chair broke, and he has fifty students lined up outside his office every day who need it more than I do.”

Your mouth was dry, unsure of what game he was playing. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“I think there’s enough room over here for you.” Eris’s voice was velvety and laced with smugness. His brown eyes glowed, like a viper approaching a small creature to make its first strike.

“Oh, do you want me to stand?” You tried hesitantly. No way this was going where you think it was going, right?

“For two hours? I wouldn’t do that to you. Come here.” He beckoned you forward with a come here motion and spread his legs ever so slightly, making your stomach do a somersault. Your body obeyed him without question, stepping forward until Eris grabbed your hand and pulled you down, causing you to fall onto his lap with a yelp. Strong hands gripped your hips, adjusting you so you were perched on his right thing, one leg on each side.

You bit your lip so the whimper that had built in your throat didn’t slip through. Your throbbing core was pressed right into the hard muscle of Eris’s thigh, emitting a heat you were sure he would feel.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He purred, his lips dangerously close to your ear. His breath was warm, sending shivers down your spine.

You stuttered something incoherent in response, but Eris cut you off casually, reaching forward and opening your book. His knee hiked up a bit, pushing his thigh further into your core. This time, you couldn’t stop the noise you let out.

“Are you alright, love?” Eris asked innocently. You gritted your teeth – he knew what he was doing, and was trying to get a reaction from you. As much as you wanted him, you were stubborn.

Two could play this game.

“Just fine.” You quipped, attempting to keep your composure.

“Wonderful. Let us begin.”

************************

An hour later, your lip had indents on it from your teeth. It was the most torturous study session you’d ever had in your life. It was less than 10 minutes in before Eris took it up a notch. He had rested one hand on your hip, a simple gesture as if to steady you. But his thumb found its way underneath the fabric of your shirt and began to rub small circles above the bone.

The more questions Eris asked you, the closer he leaned into you. His lips began grazing your ear as he spoke, driving you wild. He didn’t sit still either, casually moving his leg from time to time, causing you to slide forward, clit grazing the sinewy muscle.

It was a slow torture.

“You seem distracted.” Eris murmured in your ear, readjusting himself again and sending another wave of pleasure through your core. You couldn’t help it, a quiet moan leaving your mouth as you felt yourself giving up.

He chuckled darkly, sliding the rest of the hand under your shirt fabric and resting it on the skin above your hip bone. “You’ve been working so hard my dear, I can’t have you unfocused.”

The rest of his fingers began tracing lazy, teasing circles against your flesh. You arched into his touch, tears from the lack of stimulation to your cunt threatening to form in your eyes if he didn’t touch you soon.

“Please.” You murmured quietly.

“Please what?” Eris asked, feigning cluelessness but letting his teeth scrape the shell of your ear. “If you need something from me, you need only ask. And I will be happy to oblige.”

The bastard was really going to make you admit it. He knew what he had been doing for the past hour, teasing you subtly to the point where you’d beg for more. Your earlier determination was gone, replaced by a pathetic neediness for his touch.

“Touch me, please.” You whined, not caring how weak you sounded.

Eris paused for a second. “No.”

Your eyes shot open in surprise. If this was some sick game to humiliate you, you were going to kill him. “What do you mean–”

“You know what you want to do right now,” He cut you off, his voice low. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at my thighs for the past few days. This is your chance to take what you want, sweetheart. Only once you grind yourself into my thigh to show me how desperate you are for me, will I finally touch you.”

Humiliation burned through you. No matter how stubborn you were, it was no match for Eris’s. There was no way you’d be able to convince him to put his hands on you without first doing what he asked.

You leaned forward, placing your hands on his knee for support as your clit finally made contact with his thigh. You began rocking your hips, moaning at the relief it brought you.

“Come on, I know you can give me more than that.” Eris remarked from behind you.

You groaned and ground your hips harder into his thigh, pleasure intensifying. You swivelled your hips back and forth and in circular motions, trying to find a path to the release you had been craving.

“Fuck.” You moaned, glancing sideways at the mirror that was propped against the wall adjacent to his desk. The sight nearly made you gasp. Your face was flushed, blissed out as you grinded into Eris’s thigh, a small wet patch having formed on his light brown trousers. Eris was leaning back in his chair, his eyes hungrily drinking in the view from behind of you riding his thigh. His face was dark with want, and his knuckles were white as they gripped the side of the chair.

You continued your motions, grinding into your professor’s thigh in his locked office, coming so close to building that familiar coil in your stomach but never quite getting there.

“Eris…” You moaned.

“Yes, my dear?” Came his reply.

“I need you. Please, sir, I need you to touch me.”

One glance in the mirror and you knew you were victorious. Calling him ‘sir’ seemed to have softened his determination to make you grind into him until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Aw, can you not get yourself off on my thigh without help?” He mocked, stroking your hip again. “You need me that badly, don’t you? You know how unsatisfying it would be to cum without my touch.”

He spun the chair around, lifting your hips with one hand and peeling your pants and underwear off at the same time. The two of you were now facing the mirror, able to take in the sinfulness of the situation in full view. Eris adjusted you on his lap so that you were sitting atop his bulge, legs spread over each of his legs. Your needy cunt was on display, and you leaned back into his solid chest.

“Such a greedy little thing.” Eris said. One of his hands reached down and stroked your clit, while the other wrapped around your other hip and began to tease your entrance. For a second, you thought he was going to cruelly pull away, leaving you high and dry. But moments later he plunged a finger inside you, increasing the speed and pressure on your clit as well.

Your entire body twitched with the sudden wave of pleasure, ten times more intense than anything you had given yourself. Your moan this time was loud, echoing throughout the vast space of the office. His hands worked you in all the right places, confidently finding the perfect pleasure spots as if he had been given a map to your body and spent years studying it.

“Is that better?” Eris cooed, running his lips up and down your neck. “Is this what you’ve been fantasising about, being completely at my mercy as I make you feel good?”

“Gods, yes.” You cried out, arching into him.

“There are no gods here to help you, my dear,” He chuckled darkly. “Only me.”

Eris bit down on the juncture between your shoulder and neck, causing you to gasp. But you welcomed the sting of it, sighing as his silver tongue caressed the indents in your skin. Your legs began to tense up, feeling the orgasm you had been so desperately craving building up. The wet squelching sounds of Eris’s fingers on your cunt sang in harmony with your moans, as you watched the scene in the mirror through half-closed eyes.

“That’s it, love.” Eris murmured, sucking your neck just below the curve of your jaw. “Cum all over my hands.”

Your body obeyed, erupting into a burst of flaming pleasure as your orgasm hit you hard. Eris’s fingers continued to work you through your high, intensifying it tenfold. You were a whimpering, twitching mess in your professor’s lap. Finally, he removed his hands from between your legs, giving you a merciful break. You slouched into him, panting.

Your professor had just given you the most intense orgasm of your life.

After a few minutes letting your body recover, Eris picked you up with ease, bridal style in his arms. He settled you both down on the couch, placing his hand on your inner thigh and slowly sliding it back towards your core. You whimpered as his fingers grazed your sensitive slit, causing him to chuckle.

“Oh you poor, sweet thing,” Eris mocked. “You didn’t think that would be it, did you? I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Your mind reeled as he adjusted himself, laying back flat on the couch and pulling you on top of him. Luckily, you caught yourself with one arm on his chest so you didn’t land flat on his body. Eris’s hand reached behind your neck, grabbing you firmly and pulling your lips into his. You groaned, shifting on top of him so you were straddling his waist to get more comfortable. Eris’s grip was tight, putting you at the mercy of his kiss as his lips consumed your own. You melted into his mouth like butter, sighing as his tongue danced with your own.

His other hand reached down and squeezed your backside, pushing your hips into his crotch and causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths. The noise that emitted from Eris’s lips was the most delightful thing you had ever heard, you decided. It filled you with determination to see what other sounds your professor could make. So you ground your hips into his bulge again, causing him to groan.

“Careful,” He growled, nipping at your lip in warning. “You’re playing with fire here, my dear. Did I say you could grind on my cock like a desperate whore?”

You paused, heat rushing to your core at his filthy words. You’d always loved the sound of Eris’s voice, and hearing him say such sinful things to you brought a fresh wave of arousal.

A hard smack landed on your ass, making you yelp in surprise.

“I asked you a question.” Eris said sternly. “Did I give you permission to grind on my cock, yes or no?”

“No.” You answered sheepishly.

“No is right. Sit up. You’re going to make it up to me.”

You frowned in confusion, but did as you were told, propping yourself up and sitting back down on Eris’s hips, trying to ignore the way his cock dug into your backside. You took a second to admire Eris’s form laying on the luxurious couch beneath you. His red hair was fanned around his face like the morning rays of sunshine, a beautiful contrast with the dark green of the sofa. His expression was relaxed, but calculating as always – angular cheekbones made more prominent in the light of the candles, his amber eyes glowing with desire. It was a sight you wanted to commit to memory forever.

“Remove your shirt, and come ride my face.” Eris said plainly. You baulked, having expected him to tell you to get on your knees and take his cock down your throat. You were supposed to make up for disobeying him by… letting him eat you out? Most males you had been with had been selfish, only going down on you if you sucked them off first. But Eris was different.

“I would suggest you listen and do as I say, unless you want to be bent over my knee and spanked until you cannot walk, and are ordered not to cum for a week.” Eris’s voice was less patient this time, noting your hesitation.

Something dark in his eyes told you he meant it, so you obeyed, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it off your shoulders, followed by your bra. You were now completely naked on top of Eris, who remained fully clothed. Under any other circumstances, you’d have insisted he at least partially undress first. But you knew his patience was wearing thin, and as much as you secretly wouldn’t mind being spanked, the thought of not coming for a week was something you couldn’t do.

You crawled your way up his body, seating a knee on either side of his head. You lifted your hips, core inches from his face. The male was practically salivating beneath you as you gingerly lowered your cunt to skim his lips.

“I thought I told you to sit.” Eris said.

You gawked. “But I don’t want to suffocate–”

Your sentence was interrupted by a frustrated growl from your professor. He gripped your hips firmly and pulled you down hard, seating you fully on his mouth. You cried out as his tongue expertly stroked your folds, flicking your clit as he ate you out with precision that made you weak. Instinctively, one hand came down to grip Eris’s red locks, causing him to moan into your cunt. His hair was soft in your fingers, and you relished in the feeling of it.

You felt Eris’s hands guide your hips back and forth, encouraging you to rock them against his face. Moans left your lips as you obliged, grinding into his face like you had on his thigh. Evidently, this pleased Eris and he groaned, which sent delicious vibrations through your core.

You let your head fall back, shamelessly riding Eris’s mouth as you pulled on his hair. If your grip caused him any pain, he gave no indication of it. Whenever you tried to lift your hips to let him breathe, his grip only tightened and firmly held you in place. It wasn’t long before you climaxed again, letting out a choked cry as your juices covered his face. After catching your breath, letting Eris wipe his face with his fingers before sicking the digits clean, you climbed off of him, collapsing into a sitting position on the couch as Eris sat up next to you. His skilled fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt, and you hungrily drank in the sight of his bare chest as he pulled the expensive material off.

“You did so well, my dear.” Eris purred. “I think you can cum one more time for me. Ride my cock this time, love, make a pretty mess all over it just like you did with my face. And my fingers… and thigh.”

Your mouth went slack. After two orgasms, you weren’t sure if you could handle a third. But the desire to please him outweighed any reservations you had about your sensitive body, so you reached down and unlaced his breeches, making eye contact as you did so. Eris smirked, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion as you pulled out his long cock and stroked it once. The tip was red and needy, leaking with precum and making your mouth water. You swung your leg over his hips, straddling them. One of your hands reached towards Eris’s cock, grabbing it and lining it up with your entrance. You took a breath, and began to sink down.

You stopped after getting just the tip in, trying to catch your breath. The stretch stung, and you weren’t sure how you were going to fit the rest of it in, especially being so oversensitive still. Eris simply watched with his hands behind his head casually, a smug look on his face. He did not help you, seemingly content to watch you struggle to take his length.

You forced your body to relax, sliding to about halfway down before stopping, moaning dizzily. All of your senses were completely overwhelmed, and you felt so full with only half his cock inside you.

“Aw, are you finding it difficult to take me, love?” Eris mocked. “Maybe you can’t handle it–”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, for his teasing tone filled you with sheer determination and you slammed yourself down onto him. Eris was cut off in a strangled moan, eyes widening as you impaled your cunt on his cock. The force of it knocked the wind out of you, but you didn’t let it stop you. You swirled your hips, pulling yourself up his length before falling down on him again, bracing your hands on his shoulders for support. Gods, he was so deep inside of you, touching places that made your head spin.

“Fucking hell.” Eris groaned, his voice rough as you slid up and down on his cock at a relentless pace. You twisted and swivelled your hips as you did so, your cunt squeezing his cock at new angles that made your professor gasp. You threw your head back, and Eris took the opportunity to lean forward and wrap his arms around your back, pulling your chest closer to him and taking your breast in his mouth.

The new sensation made you cry out, but you refused to let your pace falter. Eris’s teeth scraped your nipple, sucking harshly before moving to your other breast. His hips began slamming up into you to meet your own, making the coil in your belly tighten.

“Eris…” You whined, tangling your hands in his hair again.

“That’s it, love, say my name,” Eris reached one hand down to roll your clit with his thumb, while the other gripped your throat and squeezed. “Let everyone know who’s fucking you dumb right now. Let them hear you scream for me as your tight little cunt takes my cock.”

You rode him with a vigour you didn’t know you possessed, shamelessly moaning his name over and over again. “Eris… Eris…. Eris!” It was overwhelming, your professor’s cock slamming in and out of you, his hand rolling your clit while the other held you by the throat. You kept your grip on his hair, yanking as you climaxed one last time, the action of your fingers pulling his red locks making Eris cry out too. His hips stuttered as his cum shot through you, your cunt clenching around him as you rode out your own orgasm. It was the most intense out of all the ones you had so far, the warmth of Eris spilling inside you making you dizzy with pleasure.

You leaned forward, dragging your lips up Eris’s throat as he moaned with you clenching around him. He cursed, the slip in his control filling you with pride. His skin tasted like rich autumn spices. You pulled his cock out from inside you and collapsed into his chest, panting. You didn’t realise how exhausted your body was until now. Every cell in you was completely spent, leaving you unable to move. You fought the sleepiness, but the warmth from Eris’s chest was too comforting and darkness overcame you.

************************

A few hours later, you opened your eyes. For a moment, you expected to be in your own bed, the whole thing having been a dream. But you took in your surroundings, realising you were still in Eris’s office. The professor was sitting at his desk, quietly grading. You scrambled upright, the blanket that had been draped across you falling onto your lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You stammered. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Eris looked up at you, smirking. “You have nothing to apologise for. I take pride in your passing out, actually. Means I did my job well, not that there was any doubt based on the noises you made.”

You blushed furiously, but then looked down at your body. You expected to be sweaty and gross from the sex, utterly naked and exposed. But you felt clean, as if you had been wiped down with a wet cloth and then dried. Your old clothes were neatly folded on the ground next to you, and you were dressed in a pair of soft, forest green sweatpants and a white crew neck sweater. They definitely were not Eris’s size. “You keep women’s clothes in your office?” You asked, confused.

“I keep a spare set of attire for all the female students I fuck in here.” Eris’s voice was dry, and you whipped around to stare at him with wide eyes. “That was a joke, my dear. I had them picked out last week. You know, in case Ianthe decided she wanted to spill more coffee on you in the future.”

You snorted, heart fluttering at the surprising thoughtfulness of his actions. While you had hoped he wouldn’t just toss your clothes at you and send you on your way without a word, given the professor’s rigidness it hadn’t been entirely out of the question. “You’re not funny.”

“On the contrary, I am terribly funny.”

“You got these clothes last week, was it really because of Ianthe or was your plan to fuck me all along? Is that why you offered to help me in the first place?”

Eris rolled his amber eyes, giving you a stern look. “No. My offer to help you was, and is, genuine, and with your best academic interests in mind. I may be a prick, but I am not cruel. Fucking you was a delightful bonus, not an expectation.”

His words reassured you. Despite his strict reputation, it seemed Dr. Vanserra had a heart after all. You checked the clock, realising it was almost 9:30pm. “Shit, I have to get home now. My roommate is going to think I fell off the face of the earth.”

You hastily grabbed your things, giving Eris a quick kiss on the mouth before hurrying to the doorway. You had no idea what this meant for the two of you, if it was a one time thing to satisfy both your needs, or something more. Regardless, you didn’t want to think too much about it, content to bask in the aftermath of the best sex you’ve ever had.

“Same time tomorrow.” Eris piped up right before you opened your door. “Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir.” You smirked at the twitch of his face at your words.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

A sadistic grin crossed Eris’s face. “When you get home, I’m positive you will be reminiscing about the mind blowing orgasms you just had. But you are not to touch yourself until I see you tomorrow night, am I clear? There will be… repercussions, if you disobey me.”

You baulked, embarrassed that he had seen right through you, but nodded anyway. As the door closed behind you, you wondered if you were going to last the next 20 hours without breaking his rule.

#amara's professor series #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris acotar #autumn court #acotar #acotar smut #acotar au

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mellowsadistic · 3 months

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The Magician's Game - Chapter 1

Five women become the playthings of a man calling himself the Magician. Using his powers, he forces them to go through a series of humiliatingly childish challenges, with infantilizing and permanent consequences for the losers. Inspired by the sadly discontinued season one of The Humble Games by Parker Longabaugh.

***

One moment Abigail was sitting at a bar, sending seductive looks over at the handsome man sitting across from her (and receiving looks of hatred in return from the woman sat next to him), and the next moment she was sitting on a hard-backed wooden chair in a large, brightly lit, luxuriously furnished hall. She blinked. What the hell was going on? Looking around, she saw that four other disoriented women were sitting in chairs in a row beside hers, and in front of them stood a man. He was tall, dark haired, and strangely ageless. He could have been thirty or fifty - it was impossible to tell. He wore a well-tailored black suit and the hint of a smirk on his handsome face.

“Hello ladies,” he said. His voice was deep, and Abby felt a pleasant tingling in her pussy. If she wasn’t more alarmed about her sudden transportation to this unfamiliar place, he was definitely the sort of man she’d be trying to pry away from his wife and take home with her. “Thank you all for coming.”

A woman a couple of places away from Abby was the first to recover. Her short dark hair and mannish suit gave her a somewhat androgynous look. “What’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was severe and authoritative. “Where are we?”

“You’re in my home,” the man responded politely.

“Who are you? How did-”

“Why don’t I do introductions?” he interrupted mildly, and without waiting for an answer he gestured towards a girl on the end of the row with straw-coloured hair, a black crop-top that showed off her slim, well-toned stomach, and a pair of skinny jeans. “This is little miss Susie Taylor, a third-year know-it-all university student who worked hard to earn a scholarship just so she could get away from her controlling mother.”

The girl called Susie went red. Know-it-all?! But more alarmingly, how did he know that about her? Was he some sort of stalker? Had he drugged her at university and abducted her to his mansion?

The man moved on to the next woman, a beautiful lady with long, white-blonde hair and very large breasts that were shown off classily by her elegant dress. There was something a little snobbish about the disdainful way she glanced at the other girls. “And this is miss Katherine Bower-Thomas, a fashion model from a rather well-to-do family who’s widely considered to be one of the most difficult people to work with in the whole industry, on account of her self-entitlement and overall bitchiness.”

Katherine blushed as well. How dare he! She would normally have given this man a piece of her mind, if she weren’t still so wrong-footed by what had just happened. One moment she'd been strutting down the catwalk at her latest fashion show, and the next...

“And here we have miss Madelyn Smith,” the man went on. He was indicating the dark haired, severe woman who had spoken earlier. “A lecturer in feminist theory who detests vapid bimbos more than anything, and who loves nothing more than to inflict the people around her with long rants about the evils of the patriarchy.”

Madelyn scowled furiously, but restrained herself for the moment. She didn’t understand what was going on here. She could have sworn she’d just been about to give a lecture on early feminist literature. Had she been hypnotised? Was this some kind of reality TV show? If so she was going to sue the producers into oblivion!

“And this little cutie is miss Becky Lewis.” The man pointed at the girl sitting next to Abby. She seemed to be the youngest there, pretty, and dressed in a plain white top and a skirt, her chestnut-brown hair tied up in a ponytail. “She’s fresh out of school and working part-time at her local daycare, where she has a reputation for being especially nasty to the poor little boys and girls. She just can’t stand changing nappies!” The man laughed at that, as if he knew some secret joke that they didn’t.

Becky squirmed nervously in her seat. It wasn’t her fault those stupid little brats were so disgusting! She’d been enjoying a day off from cleaning up after those annoying little rugrats before she’d suddenly found herself here.

“And finally we come to miss Abigail Reid, a very naughty girl who lives off her boyfriend’s money even while she repeatedly cheats on him behind his back. Definitely someone who deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”

Abby flushed, and found her voice. “How do you know – I mean, what makes you think I need to be ‘taken down a peg or two’?” she demanded.

“Well sweetie, I’m very good with wishes, you see,” he said, smiling at her. His dark eyes glinted unsettlingly, as if there was light behind them. “And dozens of people have wished for you to be put in your place.” He looked around at the others with a smile. “The same goes for all of you.”

“You still haven’t told us who you are!” Katherine complained, lifting her head haughtily. “Or how we got here!”

“You can call me the Magician, sweetheart. And I brought you here by magic. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Excuse me,” Madelyn said sneeringly. “But that’s not really an explanation, is it? I don’t care who you are, but you are going to be in serious trouble. I hope you’re looking forward to going to prison, because you’ve brought us here without our consent and-”

“Hush now, sweetie,” the Magician interrupted. “A man is talking. Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

For a moment, Madelyn couldn’t believe her ears. Then she leapt out of her chair and launched into a furious tirade. “How dare you! Women are not your property, you chauvinist! This is so typical of a man.” She turned to the others. “This is exactly the kind of male attitude I spend my life fighting against. Men always think that what they have to say is more important than anything we might have to offer. It’s patriarchal social conswucts wike dese dat pwesent women as overgwown childwen!”

The other girls stared at her in shock. Madelyn blushed bright red. What was wrong with her voice?! Then she realised that her thumb was planted firmly between her lips, garbling her speech. She was sucking on it rhythmically, making loud wet smacking sounds, looking for all the world like an overgrown four-year-old. She tried to pull it out, but something stopped her – it was as if her thumb was being drawn magnetically into her mouth! Her eyes wide with fear, she whined and looked desperately at the others for help.

“That’s better,” said the Magician. “Daddy doesn’t need to listen to silly little girls who think they know best. I hope you enjoy your new thumbsucking habit, Maddy, because it’s not going away any time soon. Sucking on things is a much better use for a woman’s mouth than all your silly bitching.”

Madelyn looked frightened, and started sucking her thumb even more frantically, but Susie just rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said exasperatedly, getting up as well. “This is all just some kind of trick!” She looked disparagingly at Katherine, Becky, and Abby, all three of whom were looking scared. “You don’t actually believe in magic do you? He’s just some stupid stage magician or something, and she’s obviously with him.” She gestured at Madelyn, who frantically shook her head from side to side, looking furious. The Magician’s smile widened.

The other girls stared at Susie, but they weren’t paying much attention to her words. As she spoke, her outfit was beginning to change. Her black crop-top turned pastel pink and began to lengthen, its sleeves becoming puffy and frilly. Two pink ribbons appeared out of thin air and began tying her straw-blonde hair into pigtails.

“I spent my whole childhood living under some petty tyrant,” Susie went on obliviously, “and I can promise you that they don’t have any real power.”

Her jeans melted away, rising up her legs and transforming into a tiny pink skirt that wasn’t even long enough to hide the white cotton, baby-duck patterned underwear that had just replaced her panties. Her socks became ruffled, and her trainers turned into black Mary Janes.

“I don’t know how he got us here, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to stop us just walking out, so why don’t we…” Susie broke off. “What are you all looking at?!” she demanded angrily. Then she caught sight of herself in the large mirror that dominated one of the walls, and she let out a girlish shriek.

She stared at her new outfit in disbelief. Not two minutes ago she’d been dressed like a stylish college student, and now she looked ready to head off to kindergarten.

“H-how did you…?” Susie looked at the Magician, her face now full of fear.

“Much better!” he announced happily. “Those silly grown-up clothes were doing you no good at all, Susie. This is a much more appropriate look for you. Now, does anyone else want to interrupt me, or can I continue with my explanation?”

There was silence from the women, apart from the sound of Madelyn sucking noisily on her thumb. Susie was frozen, terrified the Magician would do something else to her. She didn’t want to end up as a thumbsucker too.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, you naughty girls are well overdue some corrective punishment. So I thought we’d have a little competition. A fun little game. The five of you will go through a series of challenges, with penalties for the unfortunate losers, voting periodically to eliminate one of your number until only one of you is left. Those who get voted out will receive a special punishment, in addition to any… alterations that I make to them over the course of the game. But the winner will get something very special. Three wishes. Anything they want. Anything at all.”

Abby shivered at the thought of these ‘special punishments’, but her eyes lit up at the thought of three wishes. Anything she wanted? Anything at all? If she could win…

“We’ll start the first challenge very soon, but first we need to get some num-nums in those cute little tummies of yours. Follow me, girls. Lunchtime.”

He led them out of the hall and into a large sunlight dining room, and none of them could think of anything else to do but follow. Blushing bright red, Susie tried to tug her tiny skirt down to stop herself flashing her new childish underwear with every step. Madelyn tried desperately to remove her thumb from her mouth, but it was hopeless. The harder she tried to take it out, the more urgently she sucked. A line of drool ran down her chin. She wanted to wipe it away, but for some reason she couldn’t, as though the simple knowledge of how to wipe her face clean had been blocked from her mind. She knew she looked monumentally stupid, a grown woman in a stylish suit sucking her thumb and dribbling down her chin like a giant toddler, but she just couldn’t stop herself!

The women stopped dead when they saw the chairs that were seated around the dinner table. They were highchairs. But even worse was what was placed on the table in front of each of them – a baby bottle full of milk, and a large bowl of mushy baby food.

“You must be joking,” said Katherine, wrinkling her nose.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” said the Magician. He waved his hand, and bright pastel-coloured bibs appeared around each of their necks.

Katherine cringed at the sight of the canary-yellow bib that now adorned her front. She couldn’t stand anything that messed with her elegant, classy wardrobe. The other girls looked down distastefully at the bibs on their own chests as well.

“In fact,” the Magician continued, smirking once again, “I think you’re all going to enjoy your lunchies very much.”

Abby suddenly realised she was hungry. Very hungry, in fact. She stared at the bowls of baby food, and the bottles of creamy milk, and her stomach rumbled. Hers wasn’t the only one.

“Hungry babies!” the Magician laughed. “Are you all keen to get some yummies in your tummies?”

The five of them rushed forwards and clambered into their highchairs. They were tight and uncomfortable, but none of them cared. They were all too eager to eat. Abby picked up the tiny plastic spoon next to her bowl and started shovelling baby food into her mouth, not even caring that she was getting most of it smeared around her lips. Madelyn was finally able to pull her thumb out of her mouth with a wet pop, only to shove the nipple of her baby bottle into it instead and start guzzling down the warm milk inside. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Katherine crammed her spoon into her mouth messily. She knew the Magician was doing something to them, knew that she’d never normally do something like this, but it didn’t matter. Baby food soon spattered her bib and covered her chin. It was an insult to her refined upbringing, but she just couldn’t control herself! It was so tasty!

The Magician chuckled as he watched the five women desperately shovel down baby food and drink up their baby formula. In no time at all, they were finished, sat in their highchairs with their stomachs full to bursting and their faces and bibs covered in baby food.

“Such messy girls!” he announced, making them all blush. A wet cloth appeared in his hand, and he went around one by one, wiping the girls’ mouths clean. A particularly malicious smirk appeared on his face when he reached Madelyn, and saw the drool that was also wetting her chin. “Such a dribbly baby!” he cooed.

Madelyn glared at him, but the intimidating effect was ruined slightly by the mucky bib she wore, and the fact that the Magician was wiping her chin for her like some stupid toddler who couldn’t do it herself. Her thumb immediately slipped back into her mouth.

“Alright, girls,” he said once he was done and they were all getting out of their highchairs. “Back to the hall. Follow me.”

They trailed back into the brightly lit hall, groaning a little at how full they were. Becky couldn’t believe she’d just eaten the kind of meal those stupid brats at her daycare ate every day. It had tasted so good in the moment, but now she felt disgusted with herself. Even if it was magic, how had she let herself be reduced to their level?!

“Now, we’re almost ready to start the challenge…” the Magician said to himself once they were all back in the room they’d first appeared in. “What have I forgotten…? Ah yes!” He snapped his fingers.

Abby felt a sudden coolness around her legs, and a strange thickness between her thighs, as if her underwear had suddenly expanded. She looked down and squealed in horror. The other girls did the same. Anything they’d been wearing below the waist had vanished, to be replaced by bulky, white, disposable diapers. Susie had kept her childish new clothes, but now instead of her baby-duck patterned undies, it was a thick, crinkly nappy poking out from beneath her miniskirt.

“W-what have you done?!” Katherine shrieked. Her dress had vanished entirely, leaving her in just her a nappy and a bra.

“We can’t have anything covering up your diaper, sweetie. I need to be able to see if you’ve lost the challenge and need changing. You can have your dress back later, little miss. If you're good."

Madelyn cringed as she looked down at herself. She looked especially ridiculous with a suit jacket on the top and a bulky nappy on the bottom, a mockery of the strong, independent woman she was.

“Now we can get started,” the Magician said. “You see, that yummy baby food you all just ate has a very special property. Aside from making your tummies nice and full, it has also, for the next half an hour or so only, reduced your toilet training to the level it was at when you were three years old.”

All five women went pale.

“So,” the Magician went on cheerfully, “we’re going to have a little game to see how well you were all potty trained. Don’t worry, I don’t expect any of you to be able to stay dry very long. The challenge will end when someone makes a stinky in her pants, at which point everyone else will be allowed to use…” He waved his hand, and a row of pink, plastic training potties replaced the chairs they’d been sitting on earlier. “These.”

All five girls fidgeted nervously, their thick diapers crinkling between their thighs.

“And what happens to the person who loses?” Becky asked fearfully.

The Magician grinned. “The first person to fill her nappy will become incontinent. Permanently."

#mellowsadistic

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sserpente · 4 months

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A/N: What if you accidentally pickpocket the wrong person? What if that person… is a rogue vampire elf who will demand something in return? Something… red? (Astarion's not ascended in this one)

Words: 1180 Warnings: mentions of prostitution

Your stomach was rumbling. How many days had it been? Three? Four? Truly, it had never been this bad before. Ever since Gortash had become archduke, the city was drowning in chaos and misery. Benevolent and generous people who’d usually slip you a coin or two walked on now, avoiding your quiet pleas to spare some change for a starving woman.

You didn’t want to do it but what other choice did you have but to pickpocket people? In the dead of winter, merchants rarely left their food out for too long and the taverns were not busy enough to slip your hand into a bag or two.

The streets were your best bet now that the sun was retreating and lit torches threw their warm light on the cobblestones, creating eerie shadows wherever you looked. Your victim would have to be someone rich, someone who could afford to part with currency. Someone like… him. Heavens, he was gorgeous.

A noble, for sure. He was elegant. Full white hair, pointy ears indicating he was a high elf, no doubt… clean and sophisticated clothing. Surely his pockets would be full and he wouldn’t miss a couple of gold coins disappearing to fill your belly with food tonight.

You approached, snaking past a passer-by to wait for the right moment. The elf turned… giving you just enough movement to dip your fingers into the small pouch attached to his belt. One, two, three, four… five gold pieces should be enough to buy yourself a warm meal tonight and perhaps some bread to feed you for the days to come.

“Why, you insolent little…” Panic washed over you when he spoke with a start. The elf’s gaze met yours as he flipped around—red orbs boring into your own, anger flickering in his. His hand snatched your wrist in a tight grip before you could yank it back and flee.

“You have picked the wrong target, darling.”

“I’m sorry… s-sorry, don’t… don’t tell the Steel Watch, please! I’ll leave.”

But it was a different kind of hazard this stunningly beautiful elf was radiating. Red-eyed elves were rare in itself but there was something else—something that told you that you had just made a very grave mistake in provoking this particular stranger before you.

“The Steel Watch?” The elf laughed. “I have no interest in reporting you to the Steel Watch. But in all honesty… you could help me out with something else.”

He was charming—more than you would have liked to admit. There was a sweet tone of seduction in his voice that went down like honey, so much so that you almost wanted to agree with him. But if there was one thing you had sworn to yourself, it was that you would never sell your body to ensure your survival.

“I… no. I don’t do… that.”

“What?” Anger appeared on the elf’s face. No, you realised… it was actual appalment. “I didn’t mean… I am talking about your blood, dear. You smell delicious.”

The thought of him being a vicious murderer on the hunt for the next thrill crossed your mind like a slap in the face—but your theory was rapidly disproved when he flashed you a disarming smile. Fangs. He was a vampire.

Your eyes widened, fear now fuelling your body more than the adrenaline ever could. You twisted your wrist, desperate to break free from him. But the relentless hunger had made you weak.

“Now, now, darling, no need to be scared. I am very, very… nice,” he said slowly, purring each and every word.

Dragging you after him before you could utter another word of protest, he slipped into the shadows and a dark side alley. A rat fled as you stumbled against the wall, abandoning the rotten carrot it had been gnawing on.

“I told you, I’m sorry. Please… don’t kill me,” you breathed out.

“Kill you? I’m not going to kill you. I just need a little taste. I was going make do with a drunk tonight but this… this is much better.”

He sighed when you squirmed, resulting in his large body pressing you even further against the brick wall. Your dirty dress scraped against the rough material. You lifted your head, biting your lower lip.

“How about this? You let me have a little nibble and in exchange, I’ll let you have the gold pieces you were going to steal from me. I’m not much for charity but I can work with a little… transaction.”

He would… was he serious? You blinked at him, surprised at yourself for even considering his words. If you accepted, would this truly be any different from selling your body in more intimate ways?

“I promise I’ll be gentle. You won’t feel a thing.”

“You know, most vampires would have ripped my throat out already,” you said. Your voice was a little shaky but you stood your ground. You had no choice, after all.

The stranger smiled. “I’m not most vampires, darling. Besides, I’m only a spawn, so you should consider yourself lucky. So? What do you say to my little proposition?”

“I…” Your stomach growled again, making the decision for you. “F-fine.”

“Excellent. My name is Astarion.”

You told him your name with a stutter following his seductive smile. Each and every muscle in your body tensed when he leaned forward, brushing your hair out of the way to reveal your neck to him.

One moment you could feel his hot breath against your skin, in the next you felt his sharp canines breaking it to draw blood. He’d held his promise. The initial pain subsided so fast that you questioned whether it’d been there to begin with. His mouth closed around the wound he caused, sucking your life essence out of you sip after sip after sip.

It felt… good. You’d expected it to be uncomfortable, to be dancing on the edge of unconsciousness or even death but this… perhaps he’d been just as hungry as you. Perhaps he’d been just as desperate as you. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Your eyes fell shut as you gave in to the soothing sensation. Astarion moaned against your neck, a wordless sound of approval of your taste. You couldn’t help but feel flattered when he finally pulled away and licked his lips, a small trickle of blood staining the right corner of his mouth.

“Hmm… thank you, darling. That was…”

“Astarion! Astarion! Where the hells did he run off to now? I swear if he’s stealing scrolls from Rolan again, I will…”

The vampire rolled his eyes all the while you kept catching your breath from this unusual and strangely… erotic experience.

“I’m coming, Gale. Gods, the man is a nuisance.” He paused. “I shall hope to see you again, darling. You were delightful.”

Astarion slipped away gracefully, leaving you to sink down against the wall but before he did, he gently placed the entire gold pouch he’d been carrying in your palm with a sly smile.

Against all reason… you were hoping to see him again too.

#astarion #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancunin x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #neil newbon

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candycandy00 · 9 months

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The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 5 (Final)

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated! If anyone has any comments, questions, etc, please feel free to say so! I love talking about my stories lol. Thanks to everyone who has followed this story this far!

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex my. Blood. Bondage. Biting. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader. This is dark and quite intense!

Late in the evening of your last night as Sukuna’s offering, he summoned you to the bedroom. You wore the pink robe he’d given you and the shrine maidens had perfumed your hair and lightly painted your lips with a pink glossy color. When you walked into the bedroom, alone, you found Sukuna standing beside the bed, his own robe tied so loosely that the front of it was open down to his waist. His bare torso, with its toned muscles and black tattoos, made your breath hitch.

“Take off the robe,” he said in that voice that made you melt, “unless you want it to be ruined.”

You slipped it off, still feeling a bit shy about being naked in front of him. He had already seen everything, but you always felt so… inadequate. He was perfect in every way, and you were just a normal woman. But you were getting a bit more used to his eyes roaming over your body, so you folded the robe and laid it on the dresser, then turned to face him.

He gestured toward the bed, and your eyes shifted over to it. You immediately noticed something that hadn’t been there before. From each of the two wooden posts at the head of the bed, there were thin red ropes attached. You stared at them, wondering about their purpose, until a terrible thought entered your mind.

You looked at his face, and he was grinning. That’s when your fears were confirmed.

He stepped closer and placed his hands on your shoulders, slowly sliding them down until they reached your wrists. “Get on the bed so we can start,” he said, rubbing your wrists gently.

You felt panic rising in your body. What did he plan to do to you that would require him to tie you to the bed? But you couldn’t refuse him, no matter what he asked of you, so you climbed onto the bed and laid on your back.

Sukuna climbed onto the bed after you, straddling you with his knees on either side of your body. He looked down at you, and his heated gaze caused the growing wetness between your legs to drip out of your folds. You tried to remain perfectly still as he pulled your right arm up above your head and tied the red rope tightly around your wrist, so tightly that the rope rubbed your skin in an unpleasant way. He then tied your left wrist in the same fashion.

When finished, he stared down at you. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like being completely helpless to my whims and desires?” He hovered over you, his loose robe sliding against your bare skin. “Are you excited, or frightened, by what I might do to you?”

Looking up at him, it was obvious what he was doing. The way he loomed over you, the way his robe fell open, the way he looked at you… he was intentionally turning you on. Your heart was beating rapidly, making your chest rise and fall with your quickening breaths. “Both,” you said in a weak voice.

He moved down, making sure his body rubbed against yours on the way, and spread your legs with his hands, positioning himself between them. He leaned down so that his face was very close to your soaking wet pussy and used his fingers to open your folds. “Already so wet for me,” he said. Then he moved his fingers around, rubbing everywhere except your clit.

“You want me to touch it, don’t you?” he asked, his finger moving dangerously close to that hypersensitive bundle of nerves. “This poor little neglected clit. It’s desperate for my attention, isn’t it?”

Your body arched up slightly, trying to get his finger closer to the bullseye. “Yes, please!”

He grinned widely. “Alright. I’ll be merciful and pleasure your clit all night,” he said, making you sigh in contentment, but then he added another comment that made your blood run cold: “But if you cum without my permission, I’ll hurt you.”

You raised your head up from the pillow slightly to look at him with your panic-stricken face. “W-wait!”

He leaned down suddenly and ran his tongue over your clit. The pleasure shot through you like lightning, your hips bucking off the bed as you moaned. “Please wait, Lord Sukuna,” you said, tears filling your eyes.

He looked up at you, that smug expression on his face. “Beg me to let you cum, and I might show mercy.” With that, he used his thumb to rub over the tender nub, then licked it again.

You squirmed and whimpered beneath him, completely defenseless with your arms tied above your head. “Please… please let me cum, Lord Sukuna!”

He looked you in the eyes as his thumb kept rubbing over your clit. “Denied,” he said, and you let out a half moan, half sob, your body jerking and thrashing.

“Please, I beg of you! I can’t bear it!” Your voice was higher than usual, your cries frantic. “Please… please…”

He used his tongue again, the tip of it teasing your clit and even pressing under the hood.

Your arms pulled against the ropes, burning your wrists. Tears were streaming down your face. “Please, Lord Sukuna… I’ll do anything… just please let me cum!”

“Denied,” he said again, before giving one more long lick and finishing off by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

The pleasure was too much. An orgasm rocked your body, making you clench up and cry out. Sukuna raised up to watch you, but his thumb kept stroking your engorged clit mercilessly even as you rode out your climax.

“You came without my permission,” he said in a low voice. “What a bad girl.”

You were sobbing now. “I’m sorry, my Lord. Please forgive me!”

His thumb was still rubbing you, and you could already feel the pleasure building. “Now I have to hurt you,” he said, his voice pure silk, “to show you what happens to those who disobey me.”

As you watched with teary eyes, he lifted one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. He pressed his mouth against the plush flesh of your inner thigh and gave it a small kiss before running his tongue over it. Then, while looking straight at your terrified face, he opened his mouth and sank his unnaturally sharp teeth into your thigh.

Your body jolted, reflexively trying to pull your leg out of his grasp as blood began to weep from the bite and into his mouth. It hurt, badly, his teeth feeling like knives cutting into your skin. You cried out in pain, again pulling against the ropes in a futile attempt to free yourself.

But perhaps worst of all was that his thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, and now you were on the verge of cumming again.

He slowly pulled his mouth away, licking up the blood dripping from the red bite mark and giving you the most seductive look you’d ever seen, smiling against your fresh wound. Then, within seconds, his tongue was lapping at your clit again. It was even more sensitive than before, and your whole body was shaking.

There was a tremor to your voice as you cried out for mercy. “Ahhh… please… allow me to cum….ahhhh!!”

He raised his face to look at you, letting his fingers take over for his tongue. They stroked your nub as he said, “Denied. You’ve already disobeyed me once. Why should I reward you?” The purr of his voice against your spread open pussy nearly sent you into orbit.

“Please forgive me… ahh… Lord Sukuna! Forgive your pitiful offering… ahhh… for cumming!”

He smiled again as he dove back in, not giving you even a moment of relief. His tongue and lips and fingers were all working together to stimulate you, and before long, another climax hit your body like a boulder. You screamed out, pulling tightly against the ropes, your hips rising and inadvertently pressing up into Sukuna’s mouth, making the pleasure even more intense.

He stroked your clit through your orgasm again, sending currents of pleasure rippling through you and causing your body to spasm in the bed. Your face was soaked with tears as you looked at him. “Please forgive me…” you murmured weakly.

He pulled away from you and moved up toward the head of the bed, making sure his bare, muscled torso rubbed across your prone body as he did so. Once he was face to face with you, he licked your lips, then licked tears from your cheek, then moved his mouth to the underside of your exhausted right arm. He held it tightly in one hand and licked the flesh there. You shook your head. “Please… don’t!”

His lips curled back into a smile, showing you his teeth, before he bit into the soft, tender skin. Again, pain flooded your senses. He licked and sucked at the wound, his mouth making obscene sounds right above your head, his body pressed against yours. He was deliberately choosing the most sensitive places to bite, to inflict the most agony. You whimpered and shut your eyes, trying to block it out.

Then he moved back down, and his fingers were holding your flesh so widely open that it hurt, and his tongue was alternating between battering your now sore clit and gently licking it. Sobs shook you as you kept crying. “Please… please…” was all you could say.

“Please what? You have to tell me what you want of me,” he said.

“Please… allow me to cum… Sukuna…”

He stopped for a moment, and your eyes snapped open. You’d called him Sukuna, not Lord Sukuna. You glanced down, afraid to see the anger on his face at this show of disrespect. With you so weak and vulnerable right now, the punishment could easily finish you off.

But he was just staring at your face, seemingly in wonder. He gave you a strange, unreadable look, then returned to torturing your clit with overwhelming pleasure. You didn’t even have the strength left to jerk and squirm, so your body simply twitched under his hands and mouth as you begged him to let you cum.

He continued to deny you, and when you climaxed a third time, you laid there under him, panting, pleading for forgiveness in a small voice.

He moved up your body again, and this time he extended his tongue to lick one nipple before wrapping his lips around it. You looked down in disbelief, then shook your head frantically again. “Please, no!”

Another smile crept over his features as he turned his face toward yours. “What was it you told me in the bath earlier?”

Your eyes widened, then slammed shut again.

His voice drifted up to your ears. “Tell me again, and I might have pity on you.”

“Please don’t make me say it, Lord Sukuna,” you whimpered, trying to turn your face away.

“Oh? Why not? Was it a lie?”

You opened your eyes and looked at his face. “No! It wasn’t a lie! It’s just…”

He took your nipple into his mouth again, licking it gently. “Just what?”

“Ahh… it’s just… I know a pitiful offering like me… isn’t allowed to love you… my Lord…”

He pulled himself up so that he could say into your ear, “Just for tonight, I’ll allow it. Now say it again if you want my mercy.”

You looked at him in shock, but he was already sliding back down, his mouth encasing your breast.

“Lord Sukuna, I love you!”

Just then, you felt his teeth on your nipple, and they bit down slowly. He didn’t bite as deeply as he had on your thigh and arm, but he broke the skin, allowing blood to dribble onto his waiting tongue. It hurt, probably even more than the other bites because it was in such a delicate place, and you screamed as his teeth sank just a tiny bit deeper. He licked the blood off and pulled away, then moved back down.

His thumb was already rubbing your clit again, but now his hot mouth was on it again, and you thought you might just die right there. “I love you,” you said in a breathy voice, then repeated it like a mantra. “I love you. I love you. I love you!”

Having his tongue running over your clit while you poured out your feelings so shamefully made your head swim. You could only lie there helplessly as he did whatever he pleased with your body. You were still crying as you made a final plea, “Please let me cum… I love you so much…”

That’s when you suddenly felt his teeth graze over your clit, and all at once your tired, aching body was on full alert. You looked down in horror, shaking your head, but he just grinned up at you and said, “You have my permission to cum.”

It was like a dam broke. You sobbed out a moan as you finally let all the heavenly sensations you’d been trying to block out wash over you. He continued licking and rubbing with his fingers until you were nothing more than a quivering piece of flesh underneath him.

When it was over, your body went limp, and you laid there breathing hard as he leaned over you, watching. He remained there for a little while, then stood up and turned away from the bed. Was this it? Was this the end? You couldn’t bear it.

*******

Sukuna tightened his robe as he glanced back at the offering still tied to his bed. Looking over her weak little body, all splayed out, and the red, bloody bite marks he’d left on her, made it even harder to ignore the pulsing erection he’d had since he first bound her wrists with the rope. But he didn’t mind taking care of it himself. He’d decided to let the night end on her pleasure instead of his own.

It was the least he could do for her, considering what he planned to do to her.

As he started to walk away, he heard her soft voice say, “Lord Sukuna… could I make a final request, before you kill me?”

He looked back at her. She’d slipped and called him only by his name once, leaving him slightly annoyed that she had immediately went back to using “Lord”. He rather liked the way his name had sounded being moaned from her lips, even though he had beheaded at least three people for being so disrespectful in the past.

His eyes met hers and he asked quietly, “What is your request?”

Her face was red from blushing so much, but she held his gaze without looking away. “I want you inside me again, one more time.”

He hadn’t expected that, and he must have been wearing a surprised expression, because the offering averted her eyes and said, “Please?”

Sukuna stepped back over and sat on the edge of the bed beside her naked body. “I thought you wanted me to be gentle today,” he said in an uncharacteristically kind tone. “If I fuck you now, I won’t hold back. I won’t be able to. I’ll be rough with you, I’ll hurt you. I’ll fuck you as hard as I can, because anything less would leave me unsatisfied.”

Her eyes looked like they were made of glass as she stared up at him. “I don’t mind. You can hurt me.”

His cock was throbbing between his thighs, but he kept himself under control. “Be careful when you say things like that,” he told her, wanting nothing more than to mount her right there and then. “You’re making it hard for me to contain the monster you know I am.”

She arched her back, lifting her hips from the bed as she moaned, “Lord Sukuna, please… take me… hurt me… cum inside me again.”

The last of his self control evaporated into thin air. His robe was ripped open and discarded, then he climbed onto the offering and pushed her legs up, letting them rest on his shoulders as he rammed his entire cock inside her drenched pussy. She cried out, from pain or pleasure, he couldn’t tell, but her face looked blissful as he pounded into her.

Every other time, Sukuna had maintained some level of control. He hadn’t wanted to wreck her so quickly, but now that control was gone. With her writhing beneath him, her arms still tied to the posts, her eyes wet with tears and her body rising up to rub against his, he surrendered completely to his desire to be buried as deeply inside her warm, wet pussy as possible.

He fucked her like an animal, harder and deeper than he’d ever fucked anyone before. He could feel his cock slamming against her cervix, bruising and battering it as her whole body jerked with his violent thrusts. The whole time, she was murmuring something between her moans and cries. A word he couldn’t hear clearly enough.

One of his hands groped at her breast, and he realized too late that it was the one with the bloody, bitten nipple. She winced and shuddered, still mumbling that unknown word, and he quickly switched to the other breast. As an apology, he took the injured nipple into his warm mouth and licked it gently, still thrusting into her with deep, powerful motions.

She jerked against the ropes again, and he remembered that she liked to wrap her arms around him while being fucked into oblivion, so he reached up and ripped the ropes free of the posts. Her arms, no doubt sore and tired, encircled his neck and clung to him. She buried her wet, tear-stained face into his shoulder, and that’s when he finally identified the word she’d been uttering all along.

His name. Only his name.

Her voice was unsteady, her body shaking with sobs, and she continued clutching him while crying out his name.

She must have been in pain, but she never once asked him to stop or even slow down. She accepted his violence, his brutality, deep into her delicate form.

“I love you more than anything, Sukuna…”

He heard the words but didn’t acknowledge them, only continued fucking her wildly. He didn’t know if he loved her. He didn’t know if he was capable of love. What he felt for her was contradictory and confusing. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to hold her. He wanted to give her more rich, beautiful robes to wear and watch her smile as she tried them on. He wanted to use his cursed technique to inflict a thousand tiny cuts all over her body, then lick the blood from all of them. He wanted to share more meals and baths with her. He wanted to string her up from the ceiling by her arms and relentlessly fuck her until the only word she was capable of saying was his name. He wanted to go to sleep with her in his arms.

He simply wanted more of her, in every way possible.

She clenched tightly around him every time his tip rammed into that sweet spot that made her moan. Soon she was screaming out his name as she came for the fifth time that night.

Her ragged breathing and trembling body pushed him over the edge, and he drew back onto his knees, pulling her with him, letting her legs slide off his shoulders and wrap tightly around his waist. His mouth crashed into hers as he squeezed her against him as hard as he could, finally cumming deep inside of her.

They stayed entangled that way for a while, even after the last of his cum had shot into her womb, wrapped in each other’s arms, theirs tongue mingling together. When he broke the kiss, he looked down at her face. She was more lovely then than she’d ever been, her face flushed, her lips parted, his own saliva and hers all over her mouth, her eyes glazed over as she stared up at him lovingly.

“You can kill me now, Lord Sukuna,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I can die happy, being so full of you.”

He was still completely buried inside her. He didn’t want to pull out, but the night wouldn’t last forever, and there was still much to be done. He lifted her off him, and her body was limp, too exhausted to move. He laid her back on the bed and stood up. She was watching him, trying to stay conscious, but after a few minutes she passed out again. He pulled a sheet over her and watched her sleep for a while. Then he summoned all three shrine maidens.

The women walked into the room with their heads down. He had already pulled on a clean robe, and was tying the sash at his waist as they entered.

“All three of you, look up. I need to be sure you understand my instructions.”

The three women hesitantly raised their faces. This was probably the first time they had gotten a good look at his face. One of them glanced at the bed, but said nothing.

Sukuna gestures toward the offering and said, “She is not to be touched in my absence, by anyone. She is not to take a husband. Do you understand?”

The women seemed shocked, but they nodded their heads.

“Make sure all her needs are met until the festival next year,” he said, then looked over at her sleeping form before adding, “See to it that she is well fed. I wouldn’t mind seeing some more meat on her when I return.” With those words, he gave the women a grin that intentionally showed off his sharp teeth.

All three women paled at the sight, clearly aware of his… unusual dining preferences.

His orders given, the women left the room while he prepared to leave the village. His attendants were working on loading all the material offerings into his traveling cart, though he’d told them to leave the pink cherry blossom robe and any food offerings that hadn’t spoiled. He dressed in his thicker outer wear and then walked back over to the bed, taking one long, final look at the girl who had pleased him like no one ever had before.

She was still asleep, and he was glad of it. A teary goodbye was simply not in him, and he knew she would be sad to see him leave. He wouldn’t take her with him. The things he did would no doubt frighten and repulse her, and he was too invested in his goals to allow for such a distraction. But having someone waiting here for him didn’t seem so bad.

He glanced back to make sure no attendants or shrine maidens were nearby, then he bent down and kissed her lips.

Minutes later, he was gone.

******

When you woke up the next morning, you were shocked to still be alive. The shrine maidens informed you that Lord Sukuna had left the village in the night, as he did every year. You felt an ache in your chest, a pain that you had felt once before. You thought it was probably heartbreak. You’d wanted to be with him forever, even if that time was fleeting like the cherry blossoms he liked so much.

Then the shrine maidens told you that you were not allowed to marry until the next festival, and you realized what that meant. He wanted you to be the offering next year! Your heart swelled with love at the thought.

And so you returned to your family and your normal life in the village. Most of the villagers, including your parents, refrained from asking you about your time with Lord Sukuna. You had returned to them covered in bruises and bloody bite marks that the shrine maidens had bandaged, barely able to walk. They had assumed you’d been brutalized and deemed it insensitive to question you about it, though it was clear that many people wondered how you had survived.

You didn’t volunteer any information either, except to tell your parents that it hadn’t been as bad as they imagined, if only to keep them from worrying so much.

Your life was a bit dull, but happy. You carried on as you had before, but secretly, deep in your heart, you longed to wrap your arms around your Lord’s neck again, to feel him inside you. You watched the seasons change, eager for spring to come again.

*****

Epilogue:

Cherry blossoms drifted to the ground all around you as you pressed your forehead as low as possible, bowing with the rest of the gathered villagers in the festival grounds surrounding Lord Sukuna’s shrine. You heard his footsteps, and your heart was beating so fast that you thought it might burst from your chest.

Would he even remember you? Would he ask for you specifically as the first night’s offering, or would you need to volunteer? Regardless, you were so excited to see him again, it was very difficult to keep your head down as his footsteps came closer.

They approached, but instead of walking by you, they stopped right in front of your bowed form. You drew in a sharp breath, looking only at his sandaled feet. He crouched down, his knees becoming visible, and then you heard his voice in your ear: “You can look up now.”

You raised your head immediately, and found yourself face to face with your village’s deity. Tears sprung to your eyes, and he gave you the same smug grin he often wore. His hand brushed the tears from one cheek and he laughed as he said, “You’re always dripping whenever you’re near me.”

You blushed, but smiled as he took one of your hands and pulled you up. Nearby, the village elders who were escorting Lord Sukuna to the base of his shrine looked at you with shock. They’d heard you were a survivor, but the look of rapture on your face, along with Lord Sukuna’s behavior toward you, must have been totally unexpected for them.

Sukuna looked at them and said, “I already have a woman for the week. No more will be needed.”

The elders quickly bowed despite their surprise. “As you wish, Lord Sukuna,” one of them said.

“Oh, but do make sure plenty of fresh fruit is offered,” Sukuna added, then gave you a meaningful look and said, “We especially enjoy peaches.”

Your face turned crimson at the memory of last year, but you couldn’t stop smiling as Lord Sukuna kept hold of your hand and pulled you up the steps to his shrine.

Once you were far enough away from everyone else, he glanced back at you and said, “I hope you’re prepared. I’ve had all year to think about all the terrible things I’m going to do to you.”

You smiled at him, bright and happy. “And I’ve had all year to look forward to it, Lord Sukuna!”

Once again, you thought you caught a glimpse of a faint pink tint to his face as he turned back toward the shrine’s doors. “Smile all you want, but I’ll show you no mercy. You’ll be screaming on my cock by nightfall.”

You stepped closer to him and said in your sweetest voice, “Lord Sukuna, please wait until we get inside the shrine to say such things. I’m afraid I’ll leave a mess on the steps if you keep making me so wet.”

His eyes shifted back to your face, and then his gaze slid down your body before returning to your eyes. He grinned, baring his teeth. “Such a needy little offering.”

The two of you entered the shrine, dismissed the shrine maidens, and closed up the doors behind them, eager to begin a week of utter depravity.

Tag List:

@yourmumsthings @boogeysmoth @gojoscumslut @slut4animedilfs @urcrybby24 @kaqua @chiisana-akuma @httpslu0 @thoreau-ly @poopoobuttsy @idk-bro-gay @morgueswrld @pastelbluecloudy3

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x you #x reader

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lexsssu · 5 months

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Moon (Kaedehara Kazuha)

TAGS: Kazuha/Dragoness!reader, breeding, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Kazuha is all too used to seeing odd things from his perch atop Beidou’s ship. Sailing across the sea for months at a time had accustomed him to the strange happenings that occurred when one could only see and smell saltwater for weeks.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

His neck practically snapped towards the direction of the unfamiliar voice, ruby orbs widening and jaw dropping as he beheld an ivory-haired young woman seemingly floating in the air. She was sitting on thin air as if she had a chair beneath her, but the samurai knew that if he held his hand out his fingers would touch nothing.

Whoever or whatever she was, the golden hue of her eyes twinkled as the soft beams of moonlight gave her body an ethereal glow that solidified Kazuha’s theory that if not a figment of his overactive imagination, she was definitely some sort of spirit unbound by the shackles of mortality.

Because how could a mere human ever look as beautiful as she did? Merely a glimpse of her pure visage stole his breath away as all the flowery and poetic words he could use to describe her seemed stuck in his throat.

“Yes. Beautiful…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please, allow me just this once and I shall never ask anything of you ever again. You can return to whichever realm you’ve come from, but please...just this once and I’ll be satisfied for the rest of my life…”

The wandering samurai’s whole body was flushed from head to toe, rational mind fogged thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol he’d downed earlier after finding himself in a somber mood. He’d allowed himself to be goaded by his fellow crewmates for once, drinking until he could barely even walk straight as the ale numbed his senses.

But no amount of drink can ever numb the feelings that had inevitably planted itself in his heart like a small seed, blooming into a flower as night after night passed where he’d spend the majority of his evenings in your company. It didn’t help that as otherworldly as you looked, you were as down to earth as any ordinary person.

Perhaps that’s what hooked him in the first place.

The soft smiles you’d send him would send his heart aflutter, the melodious giggles had him captivated, and everything else you did set his blood ablaze with feelings he never thought he’d experience as a man who prided himself in being as airy as the wind he wielded.

“You’re so warm...so...so soft…!” Kazuha gritted his teeth as sweat dripped down his temple, hips unrelenting in their thrusts as he was consumed by his undeniable desire. He had you on your knees, face down ass up as he pummeled the entire length of his cock into your warm and tight hole. His red eyes glowed with fire, so unlike the calm winds, as moans and whimpers were coaxed from your pretty lips that he'd had the pleasure of tasting just earlier.

While he was no green boy, his brother-in-arms Tomo having repeatedly dragged him to the red light districts of the places they'd wandered to, he wasn't as easily swayed by carnal desires as the other man. Usually, he just waited at the oden carts located near such establishments, conversing with their owners and or other patrons as he waited for his inebriated and satiated friend to finish.

But this? Kazuha had never felt such an intense need to stuff his cock inside a willing cunt and paint it white with his virile seed, but then again you weren't just any willing cunt, were you? The platinum-blonde is enamored with you, a corporeal spirit, to the point that you made him throw away all his calm out the door.

That is why he fucks into you so furiously, plowing you with the single-minded mission to pour all his desires inside of you. Since you're a spirit and he's a human there's no way that his seed will take, right? Despite reassuring himself, a small and dark part of Kazuha fed him images of you glowing with a maternal shine as your belly swelled with life.

Such an image has the samurai speeding up his movements, hips sputtering all too soon before shoving the entire length of his cock inside your warm and moist insides as jets of hot and gooey cum filled you to the brim.

He is always a careful man, because he knows that he can't give a good life to any woman who wants to wed him and bear his child with his current situation. However, he supposes that it's alright to finish inside you, because this is most likely the last time he'd see you and as a spirit there was no way your body would actually accept his inferior seed...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, look who the cat dragged in. Took you long enough to visit, Kazu-chin~"

"...Tomo?"

"In the flesh! ...Or maybe not since my soul is still definitely mine, but it's the body that's new since the old Shogun fried me back then. Hahaha!"

"But...but how?"

"It's all thanks to our new archon! You should've seen it. I've been hanging out here ever since I died, but no one can see or hear me except for her of course! She kinda just appeared all of a sudden and me being the gentleman that I am, I watched out for her and you wouldn't believe how shocked I was when she could apparently see and hear me!"

The former fugitive could only gape as he stared at his old friend with wide eyes, acting as animated as he was before challenging the raiden shogun. Tomo however, wore new attire now that was especially befitting of a samurai that served a worthy lord. Unsurprising as he was now apparently part of the new shogun's honor guard.

"Anyways, I told her all about what's been happening here and you know what she did after I finished the whole story? She marched straight towards the shogun and ANNIHILATED her. It looked like something straight out of the Archon War with how ruthless she was! Oh, but she didn't hurt anyone else after that. Heck, she even returned everyone's visions and gave me a new body that she just conjured from nothing. So here I am now, back and even badder than before!"

The new captain grinned as he flexed his 'new' body, posing embarrassingly until Kazuha gave him a deadpan stare at his antics. A group of handmaidens passed by, giggling as they gave Tomo sly looks which the man returned with his own flirtatious wink.

"...You've essentially died and risen from death, but you're still an incorrigible flirt as always"

"It's not my fault that the ladies just can't get enough of this—"

"Tomo? I was looking everywhere for you—"

And just like that first night beneath the light of the moon, the young man practically snapped his neck at the speed at which he turned to behold the owner of the voice that haunted him even in his dreams.

There you stood, as beautiful and ethereal as the last time he managed to hold you. Except...there seemed to be some roundness around your midsection, almost as if you were actually preg—

"KAZUHA!!!"

Like a predator that caught sight of its prey and assured in the inevitability of its kill, you pounced and he could do nothing except catch you in his arms. He took care not to embrace you too tightly however, conscious of your apparent condition as his fried brain tried to take in all the revelations that had been dropped on him in less than an hour.

You purr and chirp as you rub your cheek against your mate's neck, scenting him and staking your claim upon the male as he stood still as stone from the information overload.

Meanwhile, Tomo was equally shocked and amused at the turn of events.

"...Huh, so you're the bastard that knocked up our new archon… Guess this means I'll be a very proud godfather and uncle very soon!"

The former scion of the noble Kaedehara samurai household turned wanderer, branded a fugitive, escaped as a sailor, was now the consort of an archon and a soon-to-be father.

...He knew he should have never befriended Tomo in the first place.

#lexsssu writes #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x y/n #genshin kazuha #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact smut #crossposted on ao3

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linkemon · 3 months

Text

Period headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Ruggie Bucchi

• Ruggie wouldn't be surprised by the period in the first place. If there are guys for whom this is a taboo topic, he wouldn't be one of them. He saw so many things on the streets as a child that neither pain nor blood scares him. He would also have no problem talking about it loudly. It's just a normal thing.

• He would definitely be a master of home remedies during your period. His years of odd jobs and all kinds of life knowledge would be invaluable in this matter. He would brew you homemade teas to help with the pain. All herbs are collected and dried by hand by him.

• While he is invaluable when it comes to home-made medicines, when you feel like snacking, he can be a miser. Cookies, chocolates, chips at Sam's? He's always short of money. But don't worry, if you really want some, he will somehow get money from Leona. Will you know about it? Not necessarily...

• Ruggie tolerates mood swings very well. Not only did he undergo training while working for Leona but he also got used to the fact that a woman is right, even when she isn't. In Savanaclaw, they lead in most relationships and thus he will tolerate any moodiness you may have.

Ortho Shroud

•A prefect in need? Ortho noticed it first! Before he downloaded the exact module, he thought you were seriously ill. He was very concerned about your health. Only when he downloaded the appropriate data did he understand what was going on.

• You can be sure that his information will be verified and supported by scientific evidence. He and Idia have access to data that an ordinary mortal will probably never even see. Therefore, expect a slightly medical approach to the topic.

• You will be scanned frequently unless you specifically do not want it. But let's be honest, these won't be just ordinary scans. You will get full information about what hurts you, where exactly and what is the best way to deal with it, so it sounds like a good deal.

• Ortho believes you should get plenty of rest. A warm water bottle, a blanket and off to bed! He will ask Grim to stay with you and not make a fuss, which surprisingly the cat will do (you don't know that there is a promise about can of tuna behind it).

• He will get you some medicines from the school nurse if you don't feel up to going to get them. Same with snacks and pads or tampons. Where does the money come from? He belongs to the Styx, one word and Crowley will generously create a new fund for your needs, which you won't find out about until long after the fact.

• You will receive a personalized cycle tracking app. Idia was allegedly bored. In reality, however, his hair was red the entire time he was creating it and he explained to his brother that he was only doing it at his request.

Jade Leech

• Menstruation is not a foreign concept to him. The point is more that Jade, like his brother, knows it from theory. Everything looks different under water and he never had to face this problem with his mother, for example. But there's no need to worry. Years in business have accustomed him to learning new things quickly.

• If you like specific foods, whether before or during your period, Jade's has you covered. Mostro Lounge has a wide range of products and if you want something specific, he will simply cook it for you. It's best if it contains mushrooms but if you don't want them, it's fine...

• As with Ortho, there is no problem with money. He is a good businessman. What was the point of doing any business with Azul if he didn't make money?

He knows your dorm doesn't have enough money. He often jokes with a serious face that you will work it off later but in the end it never happens. In the worst case scenario, he will ask for a kiss on the cheek in exchange for help.

• You can be sure that at the first opportunity he will do some off-campus mega business related to hygiene products. There aren't many people interested in the NRC but outside? He can take over the world and give you free samples. He will ask you for advice and opinions. Guaranteed that at the end of the process you will come up with a new formula or scents. You are happy and he is rich. Two in one.

• He is not open enough to talk about period in front of others, like Ruggie. He won't shy away from it but he just has a little bit more tact and won't talk about it until the conversation clearly stirs that way.

#ruggie bucci x reader #ortho shroud #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanons #period #black chariot #idia shroud #dire crowley

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howlingday · 5 months

Note

Jaune Arc fell into ice. That's the last thing he remembered. Now he's in a strange grove with spirits watching him all the time.... He thinks they might be broken.

Team RWBY are faunas researchers who've found the discovery of the century. A human man still alive in ice. It's a contested theory that ancient humans eventually evolved into faunas and with a member of the previously thought extinct species they might just be able to prove it. Now how to get closer to him

(tldr stone age jaune dealing with modern day faunas RWBY being horny on main for him. The spirits must be crazy)

Last Man Standing

The last thing Jaune remembered that cold winter evening was sulking across the ice to get away from his cheating ex-girlfriend. What was supposed to be a romantic night of welcoming in the new year instead became the worst heartbreak of his life, made worse when she called him out as a spineless nobody that no woman would ever want. She also said his hair looked shaggy, which didn't hurt as much as the betrayal itself, but it still stung.

Then everything got fast. Then everything got cold. And then everything got dark.

When he awoke, he took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling a sweet scent of strawberries. His eyes still shut; he leaned forward to get closer to the smell. This earned him a yelp, a slap, and a scream. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a girl in a red hood running around the corner. Did she have dog ears?

"Where..." Jaune groaned as he leaned forward, noticing the hot air blowing over him. Though he was still partially frozen in ice, he managed to push his way through the, at best, hard slush of his cocoon. He looked down to see his clothes were soaked. "Ah, man..."

"I'm telling you, Weiss, I know what I saw!"

"Ruby Rose, the specimen has been frozen for at least a thousand years! Even if he did manage to thaw out, he wouldn't... be..."

The two young women stared at Jaune as he twisted his hoodie like a used dishrag, water spilling onto the floor. He turned and saw them, his eyes nearly as wide as theirs as they stared at one another.

For Jaune, he'd never seen anyone like them before! It was like something out of an anime. Two beautiful girls, one with pointed, dog-like ears, while the other had a long and bushy tail twitched back and forth. For them-

"CODE GRAY!" Screamed the tailed girl. She then rushed out of the room, dragging the other girl behind her. The dog-eared one glanced back with sort of sad eyes. None of it sounded good to Jaune, and considering the wailing sirens and flashing lights, he had to get out of wherever he is and fast!

Tossing on his still damp shirt, he made for the exit, accidentally knocking over a poor girl with rabbit ears. He gave a hasty apology as he continued to bolt down the hallway. Unfortunately, this caught more people's attention, and eventually a woman came barreling after him, hand on her beret to keep from flying off her small, round ears. He couldn't see much of her eyes past her designer shades, but what he could see spelled death.

"Incoming!" Jaune looked ahead, flipping backwards as his neck slammed into an extended arm. He gave a hoarse groan as he looked up to see three women towering over him. One was the same woman as before with round ears poking from her beret, the cute appearance contrasting with her snarling scowl. Another had gave a cheeky grin as she leaned forward a bit, showing off her cleavage to her catch, all the while a long, blonde tail swished about.

But the third and final woman gave no hint of any sort of emotion. Neither anger nor joy, but simple indifference. She reached behind her and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, tethered by a thick cable with glowing blue lights that ceased and revealed an opening with the click of a button. Her pointed, red dog-like ears made her look all the more intimidating.

"You're under arrest."

#rwby #rwby au #lone human au #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #velvet scarlatina #yang xiao long #pyrrha nikos #wolf!faunus ruby #squirrel!faunus weiss #bear!faunus coco #horse!faunus yang #fox!faunus pyrrha

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oneshotnewbie · 3 months

Note

Emily Prentiss x child!reader where reader is sick or feeling down and Emily takes care of her? 🥰

ᕚ---ᕘ

Emily Prentiss sat in a meeting room at the FBI headquarters, surrounded by her team. The tense air threatened to suffocate them as they discussed the latest information about the case at the table. A serial killer was terrorizing the city and the team was working hard to hunt him down.

The analysis of evidence, witness statements and tiny digital traces were in full swing. Everyone in the room was concentrated and focused when suddenly Emily's phone rang in her jacket pocket. Her hand instinctively went to the device, her mind still lingering on the details of the case.

"Please excuse me for a moment," she said, pressing the green button, already guessing from the number that this call would turn her day upside down as she stepped out of the room. "Agent Prentiss," she spoke up, her voice sounding calm and professional.

"Mrs. Prentiss, this is Mrs. Johnson from kindergarden," came the concerned voice on the other end of the line and Emily bit her lip as she placed her free hand on her hip. “I’m sorry to interrupt you in the middle of work, but it’s about y/n.”

A pang of concern shot through Emily. You were her light, her pride - her daughter. She forced herself to remain calm, but her heart continued to race hard against her chest. "What happened? Is she hurt?"

"No, nothing bad has happened to her. However, she has a high fever and is complaining of stomach pain. We think it would be better if you picked her up and brought her home," your kindergarden teacher explained to her and the black-haired woman took a deep breath as she relaxed, thoughts racing in her head.

She could hear the concern in your kindergarden teacher's voice and knew she had to act immediately. But at the same time, the unsolved case was intruding on her priorities. "I'll be there right away," she assured, then hung up.

Her gaze lifted to her team, who were looking at her expectantly and when she came back into the room, they were just about to begin presenting her with the latest theories they had considered during her conversation. But Emily immediately stopped Penelope with a wave of her hand. "I have to go. Y/n got sick," she explained shortly, pulling her jacket from the chair.

"Would you like one of us to accompany you and help you with her?" Rossi offered, but Emily shook her head. "No, I can handle it. This isn't the first rodeo of illness. Please keep me updated on the status of things," she asked, hurrying out of the room.

Her heart pounded loudly in her head as she rushed through the endless hallways of FBI headquarters. Her thoughts were swirling - worried about you, but also worried about the case that she couldn't just leave behind.

When she finally got outside, she got into her car and drove to the nearby kindergarden, lights dimmed while driving carefully. Her mind worked feverishly to come up with a way to balance these two important aspects of her life over the next few days.

As she hurried out of the car and headed to the kindergarden entrance, her heart was still beating fast with worry for her little daughter, and she couldn't wait to wrap her arms around you.

When she entered the comfortably warm house, her eyes immediately fell on you, lying at a table in your group with your head resting on your arms, surrounded by the other children who were happily playing. Emily felt a pang in her chest when she noticed your red cheeks and lack of energy. She quickly walked over to you and knelt down in front of you.

“Y/n, love, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, placing a hand on your forehead to feel the fever as you lifted your head up briefly. You smiled weakly and opened your arms for her to hug you. "My stomach hurts and I'm tired."

The black-haired woman sighed softly as she looked at you lovingly and pulled you into her arms. "We're going home now, okay? Then we'll work together to make you feel better."

You nodded and let your mother pick you up as she turned to your kindergarden teacher to say goodbye and thank her for the call. You rested your head on her shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around her neck while your legs hung weakly against her. She quickly took your rain jacket and backpack from the wardrobe, which was decorated with your name, before leading you to the car.

On the way home, Emily tried to cheer you up by telling you stories and reassuring you that everything would be okay. But inside her, the worry was gnawing at her - your fever was very high and she needed to get it down as quickly as possible.

When you both finally got home, Emily put you to bed and tucked you in lovingly after giving you the first helping of fever juice. She promised to stay by your side until you felt better, gently stroking your warm abdomen to ease the pain.

While you slept, she used the quiet time to ask the team for new information, make you soup and tidy up the apartment. She tried to organize her thoughts and come up with a plan to balance both her role as a mother and her work as an FBI agent. It wouldn't be easy in the next few days, but she was determined to get through both. For you and for those she needed to protect.

She checked your sleeping state and fever several times an hour without waking you up. She kept the lights on in the room dimmed, and the silence in your otherwise noisy room enveloped her like a comforting blanket. The day had turned into an unexpected turning point, and Emily was grateful that she was now here to care for you.

You had recovered somewhat in the last few hours, but the fever was still high. Emily was no longer worried about the work she had left behind - right now the priority was solely on you. She remembered being sick as a little girl and her father lovingly caring for her. Now it was her turn to give the same care and love to her own daughter that her father had once given her.

As you slowly woke up, Emily smiled lovingly at you, relaxing from the mountain of untidy toys before turning to your bed and stroking your cheeks. "Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?" she asked and you yawned and rubbed your eyes tiredly before sleepily stretching your arms out to her. "My stomach doesn't hurt anymore but I'm still tired."

Emily nodded understandingly and handed you a glass of water and some easily digestible and lukewarm soup. She stayed by your side, read you stories, played little bedside games with you and comforted you when you had another headache.

The day passed slowly, but she enjoyed every moment of being close to you. She felt grateful for the precious time you spent together and for the opportunity to give you comfort when you needed it most.

As evening fell and you were visited by Aunt Penelope and JJ, Emily allowed herself a moment of peace. Her heart was filled with warmth and contentment as she heard your gentle laughter mixed with the laughter of her best friends, even though this day had brought unexpected challenges. She was grateful to be there for you. As a mother who loved nothing more than caring for her little daughter.

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kimchikrust · 3 months

Text

She Rocks the Ball 1.0 an addition to Act on Heavenly Principles (x katsuki)

“Another year, another red carpet,” Denki breathes, glancing out the tinted windows. There are photographers, interviewers, and dedicated fans lining the entrance to the venue, waiting in anticipation for their celebrity heroes to appear.

Katsuki gets his grumbling out in the car before he plans on going silent for the rest of the night. It’s their fourth annual Hero’s Ball since graduating high school and earning their license, and it’s turned into a night Katsuki dreads every year. It was an evening of small talk, dreadful music, and small portions, but at least he had his friends.

Katsuki and his friends were in the top hero class in high school. They were big fish in a small pond then, but now, there were other, bigger fish in an ocean of talented heroes. It only meant more stepping stones for Katsuki as he climbed the ranks. But that was the sole reason he grit his teeth and attended the ball: the new rankings announced for the year. His spot in the top ten solidified for another year until he can rise higher.

“Alright, you animals,” Eijirou announces at the front of the limo. “They’re almost ready for us.”

Katsuki and his friends attended the same as they did the year before and the year before that. Five heroes together, an unofficial team often seen together by the public, climbing out of the back of a limo like a clown car.

“Big smile, hothead,” Mina antagonizes Katsuki with a grin. She’s dressed beautifully in a sponsored gown and glittering hair accessory for the event. “Gonna need a babysitter?”

“Fuck off, Shido,” he mumbles with no real heat, adjusting his collar for the twentieth time.

It was Katsuki’s turn to escort Mina into the event. The past few years, the other fellas in their group of friends walked with her. It started when Eijirou wanted to escort her to the first ball as friends. The following year, Denki wanted a turn. Last year, Sero walked her in, and Mina’s been pleading with Katsuki to take her since.

Soon enough, the door popped open, and Eijirou climbed out first. Sero and Denki followed suit, and Katsuki went after them. Like a gentleman, he faced Mina and took her hand as she stepped out in heels, and he could hear the roar of approval from the fans behind him.

Lights flashed and blinded him as he guided Mina’s hand to rest on his arm while walking her up the carpet. Katsuki wasn’t smiling; he tried his hardest not to grimace at the flashing assault. But Mina was smiling enough for the both of them, satisfied to walk with her friend into the event.

“This is so much fun,” Mina gushed, hugging Katsuki’s arm tight, which he allowed on the premise that she was his friend. No one else would have dared, especially with the constipated expression he had no control over.

“How are you two this evening?” An interviewer stopped Mina to ask, expertly avoiding any shutdown from Katsuki.

“So far, so good,” Mina jokes, glancing up with bright eyes at Katsuki’s stoicism. She was completely unfazed by his attitude, and that’s precisely why he had no problem escorting her.

“Escorted by the final member of the Bakusquad,” the interview sets up with buttered enthusiasm. “What will you do next year?”

“Well, we’ll get to it when we get to it,” Mina brushes off through clenched teeth. As the only woman in their close group, she often complained the most about the bullshit questions the news always had for her.

The interviewer nervously faces Katsuki, forced to look up from under his towering figure.

“What about you, Dynamight? Any theories on the rankings this time around?”

Mina digs her nails into Katsuki’s arm, and he holds back any reaction to it. The petty brat Mina is, taking out her frustration on her friend than the asshole interviewer.

“I don’t, but Pinky does,” Katsuki grits out politely enough. “She’s been yapping our ears off lately on what she thinks each of our ranks will be.”

“Yes! I had to look up a few charts for their stats online,” Mina admits sheepishly, preparing herself for a rant on the rankings for this year. As attractive and feminine as Mina was to the public, she was just as obsessed with the rankings as he and the guys.

Katsuki tunes out what he’s heard from Mina three times over at this point and briefly scans over the entrance to the venue. Izuku and Ochako are there as a couple, occupied by the photographers and giggling quietly between each other. Eijirou and Sero are taking interviews together while Denki interacts with fans.

Other former classmates are there, too; Shoto Todoroki attended with his older brother, but Katsuki can’t remember the frost user's name. The rest are nameless idiots he couldn’t remember if he’d met before.

His eyes land on you last. He had no idea you were there or that the Commission had even invited you, but you fit like the missing piece of a puzzle. You’re wearing a beautiful gown that reveals the skin on your back and the delicacy of your collarbone. Katsuki can faintly make out faded scars in the exposed areas – a demonstration of pride for your job.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he thought you looked beautiful. You weren’t speaking to anyone or in the scope of the paparazzi but striding right into the venue. You weren’t smiling or appeared to enjoy the event as you marched past the interviewers and fans.

“Dynamight, what are your thoughts on the American Hero, Sentinel?” The interview’s voice finally reaches Katsuki’s ears, and a glare casts over his face.

“What does it matter? She’s just another low-level hero down in the ranks,” he says without thought. A natural response from the fan-favorite hero, Dynamight, and the interviewer couldn’t look more pleased.

By the time Katsuki was making his way inside, it felt like hours had passed. He and Mina had regrouped with the other three men and decided their dining table would be the ‘base’ for the rest of the night.

The reserved table that Eijirou had graciously bought for them still catered to two other nameless heroes and their dates, and the others were kind enough to make conversation during the meal. Katsuki ate silently, responding when his friends brought him into conversation and dozed off in boredom.

When Mina excused herself to the bathroom, taking Denki with her for the ‘trip,’ and Eijirou left to serve himself more food, Katsuki took on people-watching with Sero.

“That man is almost twice the age of his date,” Sero comments as he glances at another table for Katsuki to notice.

The blond casually looks over and confirms Sero’s claim.

“I think that’s one of the members of the Commission Board,” Katsuki laughs indignantly.

Sero grimaces and massages the crease between his brows. “Man, are you serious? That’s disgusting.”

Katsuki doesn’t get a chance to respond as your reappearance derails his train of thought.

You’re leaning over another board member’s shoulder, talking into his ear sternly. Your face read all business, and Katsuki wondered if you were attending the ball or working it.

The man waves you off, and Katsuki watches the flicker of anger in your eyes before you accept defeat and walk away.

“Scoping out the competition?” Sero says in a playful tone.

“She’s not competition,” Katsuki mumbles irritably. “She’s not even on my radar.”

“Then why do your eyes linger?” Sero presses, leaning back in his chair.

“They do not-”

“Oh, look, she’s walking this way. Excuse me- Hi!” Sero’s fat hand slaps over Katsuki’s mouth as you’re flagged down and notice them. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Cellophane, but please call me Hanta.” Both men rise as you approach them, and Sero extends his hand forward.

“I’ve seen your work before,” you nod in acknowledgment, accepting his handshake like a tycoon. “It’s nice to see you as well, Lord Dynamight.”

Sero stifles a laugh as he glances at Katsuki, desperately craving to poke the bear.

Katsuki breathes patiently before saying, “Just Dynamight is fine.” He doesn’t miss the wink you send Sero, which has Katsuki’s friend busting out in laughter and holding his stomach.

“Are you both enjoying your evening?” You sound like a host catering to patrons, so Katsuki is urged to ask.

Sero beats him to it.

“You don’t look to be. How come you’re not seated anywhere?”

You sigh tiredly before smiling. “I’m working the event as security. The board thought it was a better idea than outrightedly attending.”

Both men frowned and glanced at one another, thinking the same thing.

“Well, that seems odd, but we’re glad you could still make it.” Katsuki fights the instinct to roll his eyes as his friend speaks for him.

“Yeah, it’s grueling, but work is work,” you say enthusiastically. Pivoting your hip out, you reveal a little radio attached to your dress. “I even got my radio now.” You look up at Katsuki, and he feels his ears grow hot.

The last time he saw you, you didn’t have your radio yet, and your reference made it sound like a secret joke only he understood.

“Anyways, it was nice meeting you,” you say to Sero as you take a departing step. “They need me in another area, but have fun for me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Katsuki says, grabbing his jacket from his seat and making Sero’s eyes bulge. “Shit’s boring anyways.”

“Hey, rude,” Sero comments, placing his hand over his chest. “You’re just gonna ditch me?”

“It’s really okay, sir,” you side with Sero. “Please, stay and enjoy your event.”

“Nah, I’ve got a few questions for you. Keep doing your job. I’ll do what I want.”

You hesitate, glancing at Sero briefly before your radio earpiece grabs your attention.

“Forgive me. Enjoy the evening,” you tell Sero before walking with haste in the opposite direction.

Katsuki doesn’t falter, falling into step behind you, and you don’t bother glancing back to see if he’s following.

a/n: hehe only pt 1 bc pt 2 is still wip 👀 & special shoutout to my new moot @hinatas-gym-sock 💗

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #act on heavenly principles fic #my writing

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romione-trope-fest · 3 months

Text

Red Rings

Fic Title: Red Rings

Author Name: @honouraryweasley12

Selected Trope: Soulmates

Brief Summary: While recovering at Shell Cottage, Hermione discovers something that will change her relationship with Ron forever.

Word Count: 4831

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: Mentions of torture

~~~

Her eyes opened slowly, as had been the case for the past week as they rested and recovered from their ordeal at Malfoy Manor. She could hear the seagulls in the distance, the faint sea-salted air wafting in through the barely cracked window. Hermione blinked a few times, waking up from her slumber and feeling strangely refreshed.

It was the first time she’d woken up without a pounding headache, which seemed to indicate progress. She was starting to feel like herself, after the torture she’d been subjected to. Her visible wounds had healed, the cuts from the blade and the glass from the chandelier criss-crossing her neck and skin with small scars. The tremors of pain and the muscle aches remained but had lessened in intensity.

Another sound got her attention, a soft wheezing of low snores. Noting that Luna’s bed was empty—her temporary roommate starting each day early so that she could ‘bask in the glow of the rising sun’—Hermione peered over the edge of the small bed and couldn’t help but smile. Ron was curled up on the floor in a tangle of blankets, his ginger hair sticking up haphazardly as he clutched his pillow.

After a long day of planning left her feeling weak, he’d insisted on staying the night, in case she needed anything. He’d been so sweet to her since he’d saved her from a certain grisly death at the hands of Greyback. His gentle care for her, and his patience during her recovery served to push away any lingering hurt around his abandonment.

As if on its own volition, her arm reached down and she gently brushed her fingers across his pale, freckled cheek. The same spot where Bellatrix had struck him, but that mark had mostly faded away, thankfully. The same spot where she’d once kissed him before a Quidditch match.

His nose twitched, and she had to stifle a giggle. Her eyes were suddenly drawn to a small line of red around her wrist. She frowned, as she hadn’t noticed it before. It looked like someone had circled her skin with a red pen.

Perhaps the ropes the Snatchers used had burned her skin, the injury just blending in with all her other scrapes and bruises from that horrid night. She shrugged it off as she watched his almost blonde eyelashes blink for a second, before she was met with the brilliant blue of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Ron yawned and smiled at her. “You seem like you’re feeling better.” His hand reached up and caught hers, holding it against his cheek.

“I am, no headache this morning.”

His eyebrows raised. “Seriously, that’s great news. That means you’re getting better.”

Hermione nodded. “Thank you for staying last night.”

His thumb brushed the back of her hand, sending shivers through her whole body. “Of course, anything for you.”

The tips of his ears blazed red, but he didn’t look away. She knew he meant it. She could get lost in those eyes.

Ron broke them out of the spell. “Shall we go down for breakfast?”

“Yes, I’m famished.”

“Your appetite is returning, that’s another good sign.”

It was comforting and natural, so Hermione continued to hold his hand all the way down to breakfast. She snuck a quick look down and noticed that he had the same red mark around his wrist. Odd, but it did support her theory that it was the bonds they’d struggled against when they were captured.

They sat down at the crowded table and greeted the rest of the houseguests. Hermione tried to help Fleur, but the French woman instructed her to relax. She took a seat next to Ron, facing Harry.

“How are you feeling, Hermione?”

“Much better, thanks Harry.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yes, I slept well.”

Harry turned to Ron. “What about you, did you sleep?”

Ron looked away and nodded slightly. Harry gave him a pointed look, and Ron returned it, his eyes wide. Harry looked at her again and then back to Ron, before shaking his head. She wasn’t sure what that exchange was about, but she was going to find out. It felt like they were hiding something from her.

It was a quiet breakfast between Bill, Fleur, Dean, Harry, Ron, and herself. Luna had eaten early and was down at the beach, while Griphook and Mr. Ollivander preferred to stay in their rooms. Hermione tried a few times to spy on Dean’s and Harry’s wrists; there was something strange about that scratch mark that was bothering her.

Ron leaned over halfway through the meal, his voice tickling her ear. “Everything alright?”

Hermione nodded, feeling silly. “Yes, just checking something.”

As Harry held up a bowl for Fleur to fill up with extra croissants, Hermione had a perfect vantage point, and Harry had no such mark. He must have used dittany to get rid of it already. As they finished and began clearing the table, Dean yawned and stretched. His wrists were also clear of any blemishes.

Harry pulled them both aside after they’d all pitched in to clean up the kitchen. He whispered to them in a low voice, his eyes darting about for anyone listening. “Let’s take a break from planning today. We made a lot of progress yesterday, and I know you were quite tired after, Hermione.”

Her face twisted into a look of indignation. “Harry, I’m fine. You don’t need to treat me like a child.”

His tone was hard, not taking her plea into account. “You need to recover for us to have any chance of pulling this off. It’s just one day.” He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “Rest up today, the both of you.”

Hermione started to argue but stopped when she saw the look on Ron’s face, his features looking far more exhausted than they had earlier. “Please, Hermione?”

She hadn’t even noticed they were holding hands again as he gave her a quick squeeze.

“Fine, we can clear our heads today and come back fresh tomorrow.”

Harry nodded, his eyes downcast, and made his way out of the small cottage for his daily visit to Dobby’s grave, leaving the two of them alone.

After a moment, Ron yawned again. “I think I might just take a quick kip on the sofa.”

Hermione nodded. “Before you go, come with me. I noticed that we both still have scratches that need mending.”

She led them back to the kitchen, which was now empty. She asked him to get the dittany while she got a towel and put it down on the table, before placing her wrist on it. As Ron sat down, she grabbed his hand and did the same.

“See?”

He examined the mark and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s kind of weird they’re the same. I noticed mine a few days ago, but I figured it would heal.”

She poured a couple of drops of dittany on his wrist, and nothing happened. “Odd, that should fix it.”

She tried the same on her own wrist, and just like his, nothing happened. “I don’t know why it isn’t working. I might need to research healing charms a bit further.”

“I’m sure it’s fine Hermione. Maybe the dittany has lost its potency or something. I think we should use this day off to get some rest, like Harry wanted.”

Ron cleaned up as she sat there, trying to puzzle out what these red lines around their wrists meant. It was strange, because under closer inspection, it didn’t look like a cut or a scratch. It was almost embedded in her skin, like a Muggle tattoo.

“You want to head up and rest for a bit?” Ron held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to help her up and walk her up the stairs. Though she’d argued with Harry, if she was honest, another day of just rest couldn’t hurt. Perhaps she’d take a quick bath later, but for now, she wanted to try and figure out the mystery of this red band.

Ron helped her into bed and tucked her in, gently kissing her forehead before he turned toward the door. She could see his ears aflame, and she smiled. “Get some rest, alright?”

“I will. You too, you look tired, and I’m sure the floor wasn’t comfortable.”

Ron shrugged. “Cushioning charm. If you need anything… anything at all, just call out, ok? I’ll leave the door open a bit so I can hear you.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

She watched as his lanky figure retreated down the hall and the stairs, before reaching under the bed to retrieve her beaded bag. She had somehow held onto it through her ordeal. She spent a few minutes digging inside to find some of the books was looking for. If this mark she and Ron shared was magical, as she was beginning to suspect, then surely she’d find an answer in her books. They’d never let her down before.

After two hours of research, she’d found nothing describing what she was seeing. What she wouldn’t give for access to the Hogwarts library right now! Her head was swimming with information, so she put the books away and lay back down, trying to work through everything that had happened over the past week.

She must have nodded off, because she woke up with a start an hour later, an idea in her head. Her door was open wider than she remembered, and she instinctively knew that Ron must have come up to check on her. It made her feel so cared for.

She pulled herself out of bed and quietly padded over to the stairs, unsure of where anyone else was. She went downstairs, only to find Ron asleep on the settee, though he seemed restless with a frown on his face. She hoped he would fall into a deeper sleep and get the rest he needed. No one else was around, having vacated the cramped cottage to take in the warm afternoon.

The idea that had struck her was simple. She realized that she was sharing the house with a wizard who had a vast amount of knowledge around magical lore. Luna had even mentioned everything she’d learned from Mr. Ollivander while they were held captive. Perhaps the old wandmaker might have seen something similar in his time, either in a book, or through the sheer volume of people he’d met in his lifetime.

She snuck up quietly, so as not to disturb Ron. She approached the door where Ollivander was staying and knocked quietly, hoping that he too wasn’t sleeping. He’d faced many months of brutal captivity and needed the recovery time more than she did.

“Come in,” a frail voice called out.

Hermione gently opened the door and poked her head in. “I was hoping I might trouble you for a moment.”

He squinted at her. ��Of course, Miss Granger.”

She slipped in and closed the door silently behind her.

“Would you mind opening the curtains? I’ve missed the sun.”

She pulled open the pastel blue curtains, flooding the room with afternoon light.

“Ah, much better.”

She surveyed the older wizard. He certainly looked better than he had a couple of days prior, when he’d come down for a quick dinner. Some colour had returned to his face and his silvery eyes seemed sharper in the sunlight.

He beckoned Hermione to approach, so she pulled a worn wooden chair over and sat down next to his bed.

“What can I help you with?”

“I’ve noticed something strange, on both me and Ron, and I wanted to ask you if you’ve ever seen anything like it. I’m certain it’s something magical, but the books I have access to don’t seem to mention it.”

He sat up, intrigued. One of the traits that made him such a legendary wandmaker was his curious nature. He’d often had to research deep and ancient magical lore to improve the wands he was creating.

“You see, we both have this thin red mark around our wrists, but they don’t seem to be an injury, as dittany did nothing to them.”

She thrust out her arm to show him.

The older wizard examined the mark carefully, turning over her wrist to see the path all the way around. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Hmm… that’s interesting. Yes, very interesting indeed. You said that both yourself and Mr. Weasley have this mark?”

“Yes, just the two of us, no one else that I could see. I thought it might have been from the ropes that bound us, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. The mark also seems to be under the skin. We certainly didn’t have them until after we were captured.”

Ollivander nodded for a moment as he continued staring at her marked skin. “I believe I know what this is, but you may find the idea unbelievable.”

Hermione let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “What is it?”

“This is very old magic. Ancient, in fact.”

Hermione gasped and jerked her hand away. Everything she’d read about old magic was steeped in horrible, antiquated beliefs and traditions.

Ollivander let out a dry chuckle, perhaps his first laugh in ages. “Not to worry, my dear. Many misunderstand this type of magic. This, I believe, can be a good thing. Much like the magic Harry’s mother performed in sacrificing herself to save him when he was a baby.”

“But how?”

“Magic is extremely powerful, as you know. What can make it even more powerful is connection. Connection between us, as witches and wizards. Connection with the world around us. Connection to our wands, which help us to hone and amplify our magic. But in this case, I believe that connection leads to our very core—connection to our souls.”

Hermione nodded, not completely understanding. She allowed Ollivander to continue, as she formulated a thousand questions in her head.

“Do you believe in fate, Miss Granger?”

She frowned, not liking where this conversation was going.

“Judging by the look on your face, I believe you were going to say no. That is fine, you can have your beliefs. One of mine is that there are powerful forces at work, for good or for ill. I believe that through these forces, some people meet and create an important connection. Given what you’ve shown me, I believe that is true of yourself and Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione gasped. “Are you saying that Ron and I are… soulmates?”

“Not quite, it is far more complex than that. Soulmates imply a pre-destiny. What I believe is that you two share a deeper connection, one that’s been built over time. A connection you both chose to forge. From what I’ve seen, this mark is a rare thing. A physical manifestation of a soul bond.”

He paused for a moment, watching the disbelief on her face. He seemed to be thinking of a different way to approach this.

“Have you asked yourself why the Cruciatus Curse that you endured did not affect your mental state? Most people who endured what you did would have been driven to madness, especially by such a powerful and uniquely hateful witch as Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“I-I just thought I got lucky. That I did everything in that moment to keep focus and not lose myself to the pain.”

He looked at her shrewdly. “Did Mr. Weasley do anything to protect you, given this connection between the two of you?”

“He… he tried. He tried to take my place. He volunteered himself to take that torture for me, but Bellatrix didn’t allow it. She said he was next if I died under questioning.”

“Ah, so though he failed, he was still willing to sacrifice himself for you? In much the same way we’ve seen protective magic work before?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You see, this is where I believe the soul bond came into existence. For it to happen, there would have to be a strong underlying foundation of connection already. Perhaps you love Mr. Weasley, or he loves you. I think you love each other for it to manifest in this way.”

“I’ve not heard of any of this happening before.”

“This is ancient magic. Even though he couldn’t protect you physically, I believe your souls bonded in that moment and he was able to protect your soul, your very being, through his love for you. The torture being inflicted on you was not on one, but rather split across two souls, and that protected you from experiencing the full power of the curse.”

“Wouldn’t that mean that he would have felt the same things I was when I was being tortured?”

“Very astute. Miss Lovegood told me you were extremely bright. He likely would have felt it in a different way—as you felt it in your body, he felt it in his soul to save you from having to. The despair he would have felt and his own screams, as I recall, reflected that. Like he was losing an important part of himself, which he was.”

Hermione nodded slowly, not even aware that her cheeks were wet with tears from Ron’s sacrifice.

“The soul bond itself can exist due to a deep connection, that is known, but it’s rarely tested in this way. What you went through, this attack on your very souls in such an extreme, violent way, is why I think the mark has shown itself. Your connection was stretched to its very limit, to its very breaking point had you not survived, and yet you overcame it. It’s miraculous, really.”

Hermione looked back down at her wrist, and was filled with warmth, and of love for Ron.

After a moment, Ollivander spoke again. “Are you going to tell him what we’ve talked about?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I owe it to him to tell him, and I want him to know I feel the same way about him.”

“Then I wish you luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. This means so much to me.”

“It is nothing, my dear. You and your friends have rescued me from a much darker fate, and for that I will be forever grateful.”

Hermione said her goodbyes as the wandmaker settled down to sleep before she shut the door and made her way back to her room. The conversation took a lot out of her, and she required her own rest, her hand around her wrist and thoughts of Ron playing in her head as she drifted off.

Her eyes opened to the late afternoon sun, and her Ron leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his face.

“How long have you been up here?”

“Just a few minutes. I could hear your snores from downstairs,” he teased.

“Oh, shush!” She blushed, and he chuckled.

He pointed to the weird lumps under her blanket. “What are those?”

“Oh, just books. I was doing a bit of light research before sleeping.”

He gave her a knowing look. “Did you actually rest?”

“I did, I promise. Did you get some sleep?”

He nodded slightly but didn’t meet her eyes. “A bit.”

She sat up in bed, all the while staring at the bags under his eyes. “Do you want to take a walk with me, Ron? I could use some fresh air.”

He strode toward the bed and held out a hand to gently help her up. “Let’s go, I think everyone else is outside anyway.”

“Can we walk down to the beach? There’s something I need to discuss with you in private.”

“Did you find something out about these marks on our wrists?”

“I did, but we can talk about it later.”

With their hands connected, they made their way out of the small seaside cottage. They waved to their friends, before walking down the worn path to the sand below. The tides gently rippled against the shoreline, the air warming their skin. The weather was surprisingly lovely for March.

They walked slowly for a few minutes, their hands swinging freely between them. The breeze was making a mess of her overgrown curls, making her feel carefree for the first time in months.

Hermione could feel Ron’s eyes on her, most likely making sure she wasn’t overexerting herself. She met his glance and smiled, which he returned, seemingly relaxing.

They came across a large piece of driftwood that had likely been placed there as a place to sit. Hermione tugged Ron toward it, and they took a seat, staring out at the mesmerizing body of water.

Ron pushed his hair back from his forehead, before placing an arm behind her back, bracing her. “What did you want to discuss? Is it about these marks?”

“Yes and no.” Hermione glanced at him. “What was that exchange with Harry about this morning?”

“What exchange?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Ron. You know what I’m talking about.”

Ron shook his head in mock anger. “Bloody know-it-all.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She placed a hand on the denim of his thigh and gave it a quick squeeze. “Now, please tell me.”

He huffed but started speaking after a few seconds. “I haven’t been sleeping much. Every time I close my eyes, I hear your screams in my head—it’s like I’m right there in the cellar again, re-living the torture. The first couple of nights I woke up screaming, but we shielded your room from it so you could rest and recover.”

She looked closely at him through the tears forming in her eyes as he continued. “All I can picture is you, alone on the floor of that room, Bellatrix standing over you as you scream and writhe in pain. It’s like I can feel it in my gut. It takes me hours to fall into a restless sleep, and then I’m exhausted when I wake up.”

Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. “Oh, Ron. Is that why Harry was asking you about sleep this morning?”

“Yeah, he knows what I’ve been going through, but I swore him to secrecy. I didn’t want to tell you and worry you; I just wanted you to focus on getting better. Should have been me who got tortured, Merlin knows I deserved it.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” She wiped her sleeve across the wetness running down her face. “I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if she’d have done that to you.”

“I couldn’t stand it either, I was out of my mind trying to get to you. I just can’t seem to get past it. That, and the guilt from abandoning you… and Harry. I’m just so… fucked up. The only thing making it better is being able to take care of you and seeing you recover. Of seeing you alive.”

She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her as she lay her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. They both craved the closeness.

She heard him sniffle a few times, and could feel his breathing slow down before she pulled away and met his eyes. “I think I might know what’s happening.”

He smirked slightly. “Course you do. Found it in one of your books, did you?”

“No, not this time. I had a chat with Mr. Ollivander.”

Ron’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? When?”

“While you were sleeping. But I-I’m a bit afraid of telling you what I learned, because of what it might mean.”

Ron’s voice was low. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know, Ron. I trust you.”

Hermione pulled his arm into her lap and slowly traced the red circle around his wrist. “Mr. Ollivander had an interesting theory on what this is, and it relates to why you might be having trouble sleeping.”

He nodded, his breathing quickening from her tender touch, his eyes following the path of her fingertips.

“He told me about the deep connections that we can form through the power of magic, and he believes we have formed such a connection… between our very souls.”

Ron’s eyes widened as he stared at her. His voice croaked as he asked the question she hoped. “How?”

“It’s like when Harry’s mum sacrificed herself for him. First, there had to be a strong foundation already between us, one we’ve built deep within ourselves. In Harry’s case, it was the love of a mother for her son. In our case…”

She trailed off, her cheeks hot at the implication. Ron just nodded, his face pale despite the sunshine. “Go on.”

“He believes that when you volunteered to take my place at Malfoy Manor, to sacrifice yourself for me, that something like that happened again.” Hermione could feel tears forming again and spilling down her face, and her voice hitched, knowing there was no going back. “Except this time, since you physically couldn’t protect me, your… your soul bonded with mine and you still protected me, my very being. Because… because you love me.”

Hermione let out a sob and threw herself into his chest. His arms immediately encircled her as she cried against him, overwhelmed. He held onto her tightly, but she felt his whole body shaking, his own tears dripping and landing in her hair.

“Oh, Ron. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cried, suddenly flooded with guilt at her previous actions toward him, this man that loved her with his very soul.

He sniffled loudly, before he whispered. “You don’t feel the same.”

“NO!” Her shout startled him as she pulled back and looked up at his red-rimmed eyes, her arms still at his sides as she shook her head vehemently. “I do feel the same, Ron, I do. I love you, too. The connection is so strong because we love each other.”

She hugged him tightly again, and it was like they were one. “I’m sorry because I treated you so terribly when you returned. I was just so heartbroken.”

“I deserved it, Hermione,” he whispered in her ear. “I never should have left; it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

“I forgive you, a thousand times over. I owe you my life, Ron.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, love.”

Her breath caught at the word. She looked up at him, and though she knew she looked terrible, he was gazing at her like she was the most precious, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He tucked a curl behind her ear and cupped her chin in his hand.

“Do you know how badly I want to kiss you right now, Hermione? I’m afraid that if I start, I’ll never be able to stop, and we have bigger things to worry about right now.”

She nodded tearfully. “You’re right. We have to save the bloody world first.”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You swore! My soul’s already a bad influence on you.”

She grinned, her eyes roaming his face openly, taking in the wonderous sight of the man she loved. “The worst.” She moved out of the temptation of his embrace and sat next to him, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

He picked up her hand and kissed it, before examining her wrist.

“So, this mark is because of the soul bond?”

“It’s usually something you only feel. Ollivander thinks ours manifested physically because our bond was tested in such an intense way, and we still survived it. It’s why I wasn’t harmed mentally by the torture, and why you’re experiencing nightmares and pain. You need to heal from the torture you took on to protect me, just as much as I do.”

“Yeah, I think I do. I slept a bit better last night—even though I was on the floor, being close to you was comforting.”

“Good, you need to get your rest. You’ve been taking such care of me, but you need to focus on yourself, too.”

“I will, especially now that I know what’s happening. I’ll think good thoughts, like when you told me you loved me.”

He turned and swiftly kissed her on the forehead, which is all he dared to do for the moment. Standing up, he dusted the sand off his trousers and helped her up again.

“What do we tell Harry?”

“I don’t think we should tell him anything, Ron. He has enough soul-related matters to worry about. He needs to know we’re with him.”

“You’re right, as always. Since there won’t be any other opportunities, I want to say it properly. I love you, Hermione Granger.”

She beamed at him and wiped away another stray tear. “I love you, Ron Weasley.”

He knocked his shoulder into hers playfully. “If you ever get the urge to jump me and snog me senseless, feel free. You have my permission.”

She giggled and squeezed his hand as they walked back toward Shell Cottage. “One day, love.”

#submission

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