#trample on your enemies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowersandbigteeth · 4 months

Note

Orc boyfriend with what he thinks is a tiny, smol mate who's so smol, so delicate, so sweet... They're actually pretty firmly built for a human, while a bit short, along with being stubborn and sassy and ready to bite heads off for their adorable XL size boyfriend.

I've got so many orc stories going right now, but you know I'm not mad about it ^_^ I love Orcs <3 There are so many different ways to write them. I have another couple of Orc asks I'm working on, as well 🥵

Orc (Cedar) x thick f reader

Word Count: 5K

Tw: sfw orc fluff, some brief descriptions of battle, brief mention of sa, size difference

More monster fluff here

“Put the stick down, sugar. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You scoffed at the soldiers circling you, their eyes dark with lust.

“We just want to have some fun,” another said, his eyes drifting over your shapely hips. “Don’t you owe us a debt of gratitude for rescuing you?”

You squeezed the iron fire poker that you had gripped in your hand.

“Rescuing me? You didn’t get your rocks off burning down the damn village?”

“It was a strategic maneuver,” the leader of the armored men said with an oily smile. “We are here to liberate you.”

“By assaulting me?” you snapped.

There was not a doubt in your mind that the second you lowered your weapon, they were going to drag you into some dark corner and act out all of the sick thoughts they had echoed on their faces.

Your King’s soldiers weren’t good guys. When they heard there was an Orc camp nearby, they couldn’t be bothered to attack it directly. Instead, they burned down your village. They said it was to prevent them from resupplying.

It was true you did business with the Orcs, who were technically your enemy, but they never acted like enemies. While big and quite scary-looking, they paid in gold and were always polite to the women running the shops. You never felt the least bit unsafe alone with one, and occasionally, they’d help you out with things that needed done– fixing roofs and cartwheels. The men of the town had all been conscripted for the war, so it mostly the ladies keeping the village afloat. The soldiers had made a whole lot of children and the elderly homeless.

“Come on, sweetie, this game is getting tiresome.”

One of the soldiers dared to approach you, and you didn’t hesitate a second, swinging your poker and smacking him so hard in the head that his helmet crunched. He collapsed on the broken boards that had once been the floor of your little noodle shop.

“Now that’s a crime!” the leader barked.

He waved to his accomplices.

“Get in there and restrain her!” Their eyes fell on the collapsed soldier, and they looked between one another, trying to sort out who was next to get a whomping.

You flexed your wrist, preparing to swing at whoever came at you next, when you heard the heavy steps of an Orc approaching. The soldiers were too inexperienced to know what that sound meant. You’d heard them approach every day at dinner time for several months. It wasn’t until he was shouldering his way through what was left of your door that they took notice.

“The enemy approaches! Your swords!”

The Orc you knew as Ash, wrinkled his brow and let out a lilting call to gather his brethren. The ground rumbled as more heavy feet ran towards you.

Wood splintered, and what remained of the ceiling creaked as they tore the walls away, making more room for a fight.

Faced with five nine-foot Orc barbarians armed with axes almost as big as their bodies, the soldiers tried to run for it. You screamed as they threatened to trample you, trying to force their way through the back wall, but they never reached you.

The Orcs didn’t need to draw their weapons, grabbing every soldier and smacking them against the ground until they stopped moving—a gruesome way to die, but practical.

When the danger was crumpled into a wet gnarl of bones and metal, their eyes turned to you. Ash said something to his friends in their own language before he stomped across the room and plucked you up like a kitten, cradling you in his arm.

“Hey, What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Quiet, little one. You’ll give us away.”

You puckered your lips at him, annoyed, as if the stomping of five tons of muscle was quiet. When you tried to wave your poker at him, he plucked it out of your hand but didn’t drop it, tucking it instead in his belt. He said something else to his friends before turning to split away from them.

You had no reason to panic. The Orcs had never harmed you, but being taken away from the group put frightening thoughts in your head, and you instinctively started screaming.

The Orc sighed, sounding tired, when four more soldiers came skidding around a corner, swords in hand. You looked up at him apologetically, smacking your hand over your mouth to stay the scream that didn’t want to stop.

He set you on the roof of what was left of a building and pat you on the head, a gesture that you read as “stay” before pulling out his axe. You weren’t going anywhere, even if you wanted to. The drop was fifteen feet down, and the stairs were just charcoal at the base of the building.

“Attack!” the leader of the soldiers shouted, but their moves in their heavy metal armor were slow. Ash swung his arm in a sweeping stroke that sliced four of them in half where they stood. The other one, eyes wide with horror, turned tail and ran.

Replacing his axe, he picked you up again and headed into the woods. This time, you had enough sense to keep quiet.

You’d never been to the Orc camp before, but you heard it before you saw it. The brassy sound of a grinder and hammers on metal rang through the trees, blended with the shouts of the Orcs in their language. There were lots of huge tents and fires spotted here and there. The camp was buzzing with activity. Orcs ran around shouting at one another, some gathering weapons, some sending groups in the direction you came. You recognized many of them as some of your customers. They often came in groups and hauled away vats of the noodle stew you sold.

A few Orcs waved at Ash but didn’t pay you much mind as he carried you to the nicest-looking tent. It had a banner outside of it with a gold bear embroidered into the fabric. Ash set you on the ground at the door and handed you your poker before patting you on the back, indicating you should go in.

“What’s in there?” you asked.

He said something in Orcish that you didn’t understand and walked away. There were too many other giants around to attempt an escape, so you pulled aside the fur covering the door and peeked inside.

“Hello?”

Your question was returned with a deep voice, smooth as a glassy pond.

“Enter, little one.”

Taking a few steps inside, you were faced with what you could only describe as the most handsome Orc you’d ever seen. His skin was a deep olive, and his hair fell over his shoulder in a long, dark sheet with small braids here and there. His tusks were large, but they seemed only to highlight how well his lips were formed. His features were harsh and defined but not unattractive, with a straight nose and deep-set gold eyes. The only thing you could point out as a flaw was a dark scar from his forehead to the right corner of his jaw.

You assumed the Orcs were blunt tools, sprinting into battle with no real plan, but this one was sitting at a high table examining maps with a book in his hand.

“I’m…I’m not sure why I’m here,” you said, brandishing your poker, though you didn’t feel like you were in any particular danger.

“I asked Ash to fetch you,” he said without looking up. “You’re the noodle shop woman.”

“My name is (Y/N), not “noodle shop woman,” and I don’t have a shop anymore. The soldiers burned it.”

He put his book down and turned his gold eyes to you.

“That’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes drifted over you before they settled on the poker you were still holding up.

“You were feeding most of the camp. If there’s no shop to visit, you can make noodles here.”

You blinked up at him.

“Oh…Am I your prisoner?”

He chuckled.

“If you’d like to go back to your people, I won’t stop you, but judging how they burned down your village without hesitation, I think you’re safer with us.”

You had to admit that made some sense, but you still weren’t buying it.

“I can’t stay here with you!”

He tipped his head, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly.

“Why is that, little one?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“First of all, I’m NOT little, and second, an Orc camp is no place for a lady.”

A shudder that had nothing to do with fear shot down your spine as his eyes moved over your body. He crossed the room, scooping you up, and setting you on his table. Your feet dangled far from the ground.

“What- What are you doing?” you snapped, waving your weapon at him.

“My neck was hurting from looking down at you. You’re very short.”

The sparkle in his eyes told you he was teasing you, which drew heat to your cheeks.

“Maybe compared to you. You’re unnecessarily large. What are you doing with all of that muscle? Are you going to arm wrestle your books?” you pouted, eyes drifting to the massive bicep peeking out of the fur vest he wore.

He laughed out loud, gracing you with a wide smile.

“You’ll fit right in here.”

You raised your nose at him, trying to look unconvinced.

“Where will I even sleep? All of your tents are big and drafty.”

“Since you’ve declared your intention to court me, I wouldn’t mind if you slept here.”

“Declared my intention to— Where did you get that idea?”

He flicked a fingertip at your poker.

“In the old days, Orc females came to their males' tent and threatened them into submission with their favorite weapon.”

Your cheeks burned like hot irons, and you almost dropped it.

“Well…I’m not trying to court you. It’s for protection.”

He snorted at you but nodded his head.

“If you say so, little one, but it will be much warmer in my tent if it’s drafts you’re worried about.”

“I don’t even know your name. Ash called you something in your language. I didn’t understand…”

He examined one of the feet you had dangling over the edge of his table. Compared to his big hand, it was tiny.

“Cautalin, it means something close to general in your language, but you can call me Cedar. That’s what my mother named me.”

Your eyes traveled over his barrel chest and thick arms.

“Seems about right,” you said, finally setting your poker down.

He picked it up, looked it over, and tested the weight in his hand.

“Not a bad choice,” he said. “Light but effective.”

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, feeling cheeky.

“Do you feel like submitting?”

You watched a flicker of heat ignite in his eyes, and he slowly set it down.

“Come on, let's get you to bed, killer.”

He picked you up again, walking you over to a large pallet covered in furs.

“This is your bed.”

He gave you another smile.

“We’re in the middle of a battle; I won't be sleeping tonight. It's all yours.”

Though you weren't quite sure about sleeping in his bed, weariness overtook you at the sight of the comfortable, cozy furs, and you crawled in, wrapping yourself up to your chin in blankets.

He put your poker next to you and blew out the candle, slipping out the front flap as you dozed.

—

You woke to yelling, but not the sound of battle. Crawling out of your furs, you picked up your poker and peeled out of the flap Cedar used as a door. Another Orc you didn't recognize was the one yelling, and Cedar had his arms crossed, looking bored.

Your eyes drifted to about twenty women, elderly, and children, cowering in the chilly morning air, their faces streaked with soot from the fire.

“They’re our enemies!” the strange Orc barked.

“Really, Asvoth? Are you really afraid of a handful of children and their mothers?”

“This is a war camp, not a nursery.”

“It's my camp, not yours. They stay.”

“I outrank you. I can take your command.”

Cedar snorted.

“Yet the King hasn't trusted you with a unit of your own. You're nothing more than an errand boy with a fancy title. Any of these children could take your job.”

Asvoth’s face turned a deep forest green from both embarrassment and indignation. He yanked the sword he wore on his back to his hand. Without thinking, you hopped in front of Cedar, waving your poker at the intruder. You had no idea why, a fact you only considered after you’d already put yourself in harm's way. Still, you'd made your move so the only thing to do was follow through.

“You heard Cedar! We’re not leaving! Get on if you know what's good for you!”

Asvoth sprung forward, dropping his sword toward your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, preparing for pain, but there was only the clang of metal. Opening one eye, you glanced up to see Cedar’s axe blocking the other Orc’s blow.

There was a moment when you thought Asvoth might overtake him, but Cedar’s muscles weren't all for show. He shoved the other Orc back, and he toppled over, landing on his butt in the dirt. His sword landed in front of the children with a CLANG.

“Woah!” the little ones cheered, circling around it like it was a strange animal.

A few of them tried to pick it up, but it was far too heavy, making their eyes pop even wider.

Cedar nodded at him, and a pair of Orcs from the camp dragged Asvoth up by the collar of his tunic, pushing him towards the forest.

“I'm reporting this!” He shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled towards the woods.

Cedar waved a hand at one of his Orcs, beckoning him closer.

“You and Orin follow him and make sure the King gets our side of the story, not his.”

When the situation seemed settled, Cedar looked down at you and patted your head.

“Thank you for your protection, little suitor,” he said with a smirk.

Your cheeks blew up in flames, but you puffed your chest and looked at the children watching Ash pick up the abandoned sword. They hopped around him like little bunnies, begging him to teach them to use it.

“I have no idea what you mean! I’m here to make noodles! Point me in the direction of my kitchen! These little mouths are probably hungry.”

He chuckled, but guided you with a large hand on your back to a large tent filled with whatever food supplies they had rescued from the village. You wrinkled your nose at the primitive workspace, but there were enough flour and eggs to work with. You were surprised to find someone had stuck in a lower table, perfect for your height. After washing your hands in a water basin, you got to cooking.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked Cedar, who had plopped down in a chair and was reading a book.

He smiled.

“Reading.”

You blinked at him, putting your floury fists on your hips. “Are you surveilling me? I’m not going to poison you all! I have to eat this too, you know.”

He tipped his head to the side, his gold eyes sparkling in the makeshift hearth.

“The sound of cooking is soothing. I liked to study in the kitchen while my mother cooked when I was a boy.”

You looked him up and down.

“I can’t imagine you as a child.”

You thought for a second, tapping your chin.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Orc child, actually.”

He looked back down at his book, shifting in his seat to get comfortable.

“You will,” he said as he flipped a page.

Your brow wrinkled at that nebulous statement, but you knew everyone was hungry after the long night, so you got back to work.

By midmorning, you had a stewpot big enough to feed an army filled with noodles, vegetables, and what little bit of venison the Orcs had been able to hunt between the battle.

“All done,” you said, clapping your hands and creating a puff of flour in the air.

Cedar got up and shouted something to his men, and two Orcs appeared to carry the big vat into the central circle so it could be served. You felt a sense of satisfaction when all the bowls were passed out and the children, tired humans, and bloodied Orcs were eating. The mothers spoke quietly between one another, while the children could hardly sit still, their big eyes following the Orcs every movement.

“Here.”

You looked up to find Cedar holding a bowl out to you. A grumbling stomach had you accepting it, and he patted the seat next to him for you to sit down. The two of you ate quietly for a moment before you asked him a question.

“What are you going to do with all of us?”

“Hmm?” he asked.

“Well, I mean when the battle is over. We have nowhere to go. Our town is destroyed.”

He looked at the children who, after scarfing down their bowls, were engaged in some game with Ash.

“I was hoping you would all return to our capitol city with us. That’s where we live when we’re not fighting.”

Your eyebrows jumped.

“To the Orc city? We’re humans. Don’t your people hate us?”

He shrugged.

“There are some weak minds who reveal their own fragility with their hate, but the rest of us like your kind. This whole war started because we wished to create allies amongst the humans.”

“What? The soldiers said you attacked!”

He chuckled.

“Your king has a very effective propaganda engine. That’s probably the only thing about him that is effective. We sent a delegation party to him to discuss our interest in mingling with you humans. You all are prolific; despite your size, you’re a sturdy bunch. We thought marriages would bolster our numbers and strengthen your stock. Your King attacked, and we were forced to defend ourselves. The force that attacked us was decimated, and he declared war.”

“You mean…you wish to mate with us?”

His eyes slid down to you, and he gave you a sharp nod.

“Is that so surprising?”

You thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t know…Maybe a little. You’re so strong. You’re not afraid we’ll diminish you?”

His thick hand cupped your chin and rubbed some flour away with his thumb. Your heart raced at his touch.

“Size is not what makes us strong. Our strength lies in our unbreakable bonds. Your King will be defeated, not because his forces are less than ours, but because he orders his men to betray his own people.”

He nodded towards the children, who were playing chicken fight on Ash and another Orc’s shoulders.

“They will remember it was men who burned down their village, stole their fathers from them, assaulted their mothers and Orcs who took them in, fed them, and helped them smile again.

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed.

His smile widened.

“I will remember you took up arms to protect me against an enemy twice your size. You belong among the us.”

Suddenly the wool dress you wore was much too hot.

“I should go wash these before the next meal,” you squeaked, grabbing his empty bowl and scurrying away.

Once safe in the kitchen tent, you pressed your hand against your chest, trying to still your heart. Why did Cedar make you feel so fluttery? You’d never felt this way around anyone before. You usually kept to yourself and steered clear of romance. It had to be the battle, you decided. You were still hyped up from the night before. In a day or so, you were sure it would pass.

Dunking empty bowls in ice-cold river water helped cool your thoughts as you tried to focus on what to make for dinner. The Orcs stocks were pretty hefty, but they and the children ate a lot. You’d noticed many of the parents tipping some of their bowls into their little one’s, making sure they were fed properly in case the next meal didn’t come.

It saddened you it had to be this way. What horrible person decides to burn down their own citizens' village? Who was the King even protecting you from? Not the Orcs, that’s for sure.

A loud rabble outside dragged your attention away from the dishes, and you picked up your poker before peeking your head outside.

A few Orc scouts were speaking in rapid Orcish to Cedar. When they paused, his eyes immediately looked around for the children and frowned before he spoke to you all.

“The human King has sent reinforcements. They will close on our camp by nightfall.”

The mothers all gathered their children to their skirts, looking weary.

“Women and children to the kitchen tent! We will keep you safe, but you must stay hidden!”

You made way as a small stampede of humans rushed past you, many pushing their children to hide under the table.

“What’s happening?” You asked Cedar as people and Orcs rushed around.

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, looking disturbed.

“Someone ran back to your King with a story that we’d kidnapped you, not taken you in from starving in a burnt-down village. We will win this fight, but then we will have to make the journey back to the capitol. They will keep attacking if they think you’re within their grasp. Do you think you can explain this to your people? We don’t intend to take anyone by force, but I wouldn’t trust the King’s soldiers.”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you need.”

You hurried back to the kitchen, where the humans were muttering to one another.

“Should we flee to the forest?” Isla, the former town candlemaker, asked. “Can we depend on the Orcs to protect us?”

Another woman scoffed.

“We can’t trust anyone. These Orcs are kind now, but they’ll sell us out at the drop of a hat.”

Linda, a quiet woman who worked as a weaver, whimpered.

“But we’ll starve in the forest alone. Word is the King’s men have raized every town for fifty miles!”

You inserted yourself into the conversation, holding up your hands.

“No one needs to escape to the woods. The Orcs are going to take us back to their capitol to keep us safe.”

Linda squeaked in horror.

“The Orc capitol?! Where they can enslave us?!”

“They have no plan to enslave you. Don’t you want your children to be safe? We will be safe behind their walls!”

“Or…when the King takes the city we’ll all be hung as traitors!”

“Shawna, don’t put that in her head. Linda, we’ll be fine. I trust Cedar.”

You paused on that thought, realizing not only was it true, it didn’t make any sense. You’d only just met him. Your conversation was interrupted by the shouting of men outside.

“We’ll talk about this later,” you hissed, “Here, take this.”

You armed the humans with whatever haphazard weapons you could find, mostly butcher knives and skillets.

Outside, you could hear the clang of weapons and the squelching sounds of metal piercing flesh.

“What's happening?” Linda asked, trying to get around you so she could peek out of the tent flap.

“Stay back!” You barked. “If they see us, we’re in trouble!”

You could tell she was losing it, hopping from one foot to another, her hands getting slippery on her knife.

“No, no, no,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to go with the Orcs. Even a human monster is better than them!”

Before you could grab her, she skipped through the doorway, running wildly into the fray. The other humans gathered around you, their opinions spilling out like loose marbles.

“What is she thinking?!”

“Linda, come back!”

“Let her go, she’s nuts.”

You clenched your jaw, squeezing your iron poker.

“She’s scared. I’ll go get her…you all stay put!”

Before anyone could stop you, you darted after her, trying to catch sight of her red skirt through the mess of armour-clad humans and massive Orcs. The King had sent a much larger force than the one that had burned down your village. The battle around you was brutal. You almost slipped on a puddle of blood, your eyes frantically searching for Linda.

You found her pointing her knife with shaking hands at a human soldier.

“What are you doing? I’m a human, too!”

“The King ordered you all dead!” he snarled, raising his sword at her. “No witnesses! Come on, do your duty to the kingdom, and die quietly!”

Panicking, you launched yourself at him, whacking him with your poker as you barreled into him. The two of you went down, metal clashing as you fell and dropped your weapons. Both of you scrabbled for purchase in the blood-soaked earth. You could hear Linda screeching beside you as you tried to overpower the soldier. His armor, now slick with mud, made it impossible to get a hold of him, and he triumphantly dragged himself to his sword, clumsily grabbing it by the blade and flinging it in your direction. You saw the metal flash in the firelight before pain exploded between your eyes, and your vision went black.

—

“Please tell me she’s not dead,” you heard Linda’s voice from far away.

Isla scoffed.

“You’d better hope she’s not, Linda. This is all your fault!”

“I'm sorry!” she simpered, “I made a mistake! I thought the soldiers were here to free us!”

“Free us from what? A good meal and a safe place to sleep?”

You dragged your eyelids open, vision blurry for a moment before it cleared.

“What…what happened?” you murmured.

“She’s awake!” Isla gasped.

You felt her cool hands against your cheek.

“Take it slow, here; have some water.”

She pushed a tin cup into your hands, and you wet your palette with a few sips. Looking around, you were surrounded by the humans, all looking very concerned.

“Is everyone okay?” you asked.

Isla smirked, and the other women tittered a bit.

“Thanks to you, I suppose. That chieftain or warlord or whatever saw you get knocked in the head and went berzerk. He killed most of the soldiers all by himself.”

Another woman poked her head out of the tent.

“She’s okay! You guys can untie him!”

“Untie who? Is the battle over?”

Isla nodded.

“Yeah, all the soldiers are dead. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up so we can move the camp before the King sends anymore. Can you believe he ordered them to kill us? I guess so he could claim the Orcs did it and get more support for the war.”

She smirked at you.

“And as for who's tied up, your Orc friend thought you were dead. The others had to tie him up so he wouldn’t go on a rampage. He was ready to storm the King’s stronghold! You ought to see the ropes they had to use…thick as your waist!”

You heard the roll of stomping feet, and Cedar burst through the tent flap. His hair was wild, and his tunic was red with blood. He fell to his knees in front of you, holding his hands as if he couldn’t decide if you were safe to touch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully prodding the bandage you had wrapped around your head. “That monster didn’t do any permanent damage, did he?”

“She’ll have a scar,” Isla said, “but I think she’s fine.”

Cedar’s face lightened, pulling you towards him, his big arms wrapping around you.

“Thank the goddess,” he sighed with a heavy breath. “I thought they’d taken you from me.”

He cupped your cheeks between his palms when he finally let you go.

“You are so stupidly brave, little one,” he gasped, eyes wet. “You have more honor than your people deserve.”

Behind him, Isla waved the women out of the tent, leaving the two of you alone. Not used to so much intimate attention, your cheeks warmed, and you weren’t sure where to look.

“I just didn’t want Linda to get hurt,” you muttered.

He gave you an odd smile, scooping you out of the cot you’d woken up in.

“Once I get you to our home in the capitol, I’m going to have to keep you locked up for your own safety,” he said, patting your head.

You looked up at him from where you were tucked, leaning on his bicep.

“Our home?”

He grinned at you, counting on his fingers.

“First step to Orc courting: Threaten your desired with your weapon. Done. Step two: Allure them with your cooking skills, cooking or hunting something delicious. Done. And the final step: Display your honor through a grand act of bravery. Done! You’ve effectively and thoroughly seduced me, little one! All that’s left is to take you home!”

He tipped your chin up with one thick finger and dipped his head to press his lips against yours. Your whole body felt like it was made of butterflies, every nerve flickering with excitement. Despite being covered in blood and mud, his kiss tasted like honey and sage. It felt like a warm cup of tea on a chilly morning. Your eyelashes fluttered shut and you sank into his warmth, despite yourself, happy to be alive and in his arms.

“Oh!” you gasped as he straightened his neck.

Your mouth fell open, unsure what to say. Before you could think of anything, Cedar carried you out of the tent, shouting orders at his men to pack up the camp so you could leave for the capitol.

#monster x girl #orc x reader #monster x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #soft yandere #orc boyfriend #monster romance #monster fluff #male yandere #yandere fluff #yandere romance #monster boyfriend #orc #orc romance

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fangisms · 8 months

Text

wish it on your worst enemy

A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words

Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers

George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.

You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.

"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.

"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.

"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"

"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"

"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.

"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.

"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.

Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.

"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.

"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."

You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.

"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.

"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."

She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.

"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"

"Oh, George—! He's not my..."

"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.

"May I ask... what became of him?"

"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"

You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.

"You just have to love ‘em while you can."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.

You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.

"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.

How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.

He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.

Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.

George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.

"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"

"George!"

The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.

“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"

"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.

You look down and gape at the mess.

"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."

He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.

"That's adorable," he warbles.

You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.

“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"

"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”

Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.

"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."

"But Pomfrey—"

"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”

Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.

But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.

"You're very beautiful."

Daggers. “Shut up.”

He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."

"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"

"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"

But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.

"Quit staring."

"Sincerest apologies."

You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.

"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"

"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."

"Be serious, Weasley—"

"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."

"That's not fair!" you say.

"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."

Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?

"You're being idiotic—”

"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"

"George, quit it,” you say.

"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"

"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"

Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.

And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.

You groan.

"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."

He shrugs. "I am crazy…"

"Do not—"

"… Crazy in love."

"I hate you"

"I know."

You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.

"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."

He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."

You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.

"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.

"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.

"Good. And if it does, then—"

"Then I’ll quit the team.”

"What!"

"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."

Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.

"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"

"Oh, so you won a kiss.”

"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."

"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”

You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.

"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"

"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"

"Madam, he's awake!”

"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.

"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low

"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."

He grumbles something under his breath.

Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”

You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"

"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.

"Well, what else would you be?"

"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”

“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.”

“Sap.”

masterlist

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fluff #fluff #fanfic #x reader #x fem!reader #fanfiction #hp universe #enemies to lovers

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enkephallic · 2 months

Text

Limbus Company: Deep Analysis of Sin

So, I decided to take a deeper dive into the different sin types in Limbus Company.

The TLDR Version:

Wrath - Unable to accept something

Lust - Having a strong desire

Sloth - Losing sight

Gluttony - Satisfaction-seeking

Gloom - Controlled by pain

Pride - Contempt of others/selfishness

Envy - Desire to surpass

Regarding the sinners' skills, the sin position is important as well. A S1 sin is a surface-level appearance, but S3 represents something deep inside them.

The detailed explanations are under the cut!

Wrath

Wrath, on the surface level, can present as being irritable or hard to get along with.

Wrath S1 examples

LCB Ishmael, who seems irritable and nitpicky at first.

Seven Heathcliff "Why am I doing this stupid job?"

Hook Office Hong Lu "Don't speak so softly, I'll feel homicidal"

S2 gets closer to how they really feel. The feeling of wrath comes from the feeling of "I can't accept this" - whether it's how they're being treated, how their environment is, etc.

Wrath S2 examples

LCB Heathcliff (past speculation) - Discriminated, mistreated, resenting what's happening to him

LCB Sinclair (past) - I don't want to get prosthetics

W Corp Hong Lu - Bored with his job.

And S3 wrath represents a strong rejection - they won't accept Anything they deem contrary to their own beliefs and ideals. It is a violent refusal.

Wrath S3 examples

N corp identities who are brainwashed - Kill all the dissenters and heretics.

Pequod Ishmael - "It's MY way or the HIGHWAY, god damn it!" (Throws a fit if another ID kills an enemy)

R Corp Ishmael - Hates it to the point she's looking for Singularity information of old R corp

LCB Rodya - I can't accept this armchair revolution and endless poverty. I have to kill this old windbag.

Lust

Lust in this case is a pursuit of something non-physical - a relationship, an ideal, a core element of your self. On the surface level, this can present as really wanting to be something.

Lust S1 Examples

LCB Don Quixote - Wants to become a great Fixer.

W Corp Ryoshu - Wants to be a great artist.

Sous Chef Gregor - Wants to improve his cooking.

S2 is a little stronger than just normal desire. They will willingly hurt other people or trample them to achieve their goal.

Lust S2 Examples

Tingtang Gangleader Hong Lu - Uses violence and is callous to those invading his turf

The One Who Grips Faust - Massacres Sinclair's village to get what she wants

LCB Ryoshu - Her idea of beauty ties in with violence

S3 is a little different - It's desiring something so badly on an existential level. It's pretty much what they live for.

Lust S3 Examples

R.B. Chef Ryoshu - Needs to be one of the Eight. Will stop at nothing to achieve this.

N Corp Heathcliff - Not brainwashed, doesn't really want to be. Wants to preserve his "true self".

G Corp Gregor - After an irreversible transformation, fully believes his reason to exist is to be a killing machine.

Interestingly, both LCB Heathcliff and Hong Lu have a Lust S3.

Sloth

Sloth is inaction, watching from the sidelines, not seeing what is in front of you. This can start with just simply being misguided, believing something to be true when it's not.

Sloth S1 Examples

W Corp Don Quixote - "I am working at a Wing!! CHOO CHOO!! Sally forth!!"

LCB Outis - Her piss-poor act of blind acceptance and obedience.

LCB Meursault - It is simply none of my business if Sinclair hyperventilates and vomits on the floor.

S2 sloth is more purposeful, not taking action when one should or purposefully being ignorant of reality.

LCB Faust - Does not tell Dante and the others a lot of information and doesn't stop sinners from running amok.

LCB Hong Lu - Despite being perceptive, does not seem to register bad situations as bad or react to pain appropriately.

G Corp Gregor - This feels wrong but I'll just continue with it anyway.

S3 sloth is a total loss of vision, not being able to see what's important to them. Losing sight of all they used to desire, and doing nothing about it.

Dieci IDs - Lost their memory and doesn't even remember what was most important to them.

K Corp Hong Lu - Doesn't seem to mind his total loss of freedom and autonomy, despite desiring freedom in other IDs.

LCB Yi Sang - Could not care about anything he once loved or aspired to be, until he was able to gain his wings once more.

Blade Lineage Don Quixote - Once used her strength to fight alongside her comrades, but now kills for purely her own sake.

Gluttony

Gluttony is a desire to be satisfied, whether it's something material or psychological. This can present like greed or selfishness at first sight.

S1 Gluttony Examples

LCB Rodya - "I want meat, I want money, I want to gamble!"

LCB Ryoshu - "Let me smoke. Let me do as I please."

Lantern EGO Don Quixote - Curious about the abnormalities and wanting to know more about them

S2 Gluttony is wanting more at a crucial point in their life, or desiring more than they could chew. It could also mean getting hooked into something or addicted.

S2 Gluttony Examples

LCB Ishmael - "I quit my job, I need something that's not labour hellscape... Hm? That hag can sure talk..."

R Corp Heathcliff - Began deriving enjoyment from killing

N Corp Don Quixote - Didn't even need the brainwashing, got hooked onto the N Corp ideology herself

S3 Gluttony seems to be the final stage of seeking what they desire - being satisfied, even when they shouldn't be.

S3 Gluttony Examples

Tingtang Gangleader Hong Lu - Seems completely happy and enjoying himself

Seven Heathcliff - Actually learned to like his job

W Corp Hong Lu - Doesn't want praise or a raise, just fine with how things are now

Gloom

Gloom represents pain, and how it affects how the person treats their situation or other people. On the surface level, they may appear melancholic or having given up.

S1 Gloom Examples

LCB Yi Sang, LCB Gregor - Self explanatory.

Rosespanner Meursault - Crushed by work

R Corp Ishmael - Headache, pain, does not like it here

S2 Gloom is a moment of despair, when something in their heart was broken. This may also involve guilt and inflicting pain.

W Corp Don Quixote and most W Corp IDs (Except Hong Lu and Ryoshu) - The shocking reveal of what W Corp really is.

N Corp Heathcliff - "What the hell am I even doing??"

Lobotomy EGO Heathcliff - "All my friends are dead."

S3 Gloom can represent letting their pain affect how they treat others. Lashing out, being insensitive to others' pain, or simply giving up and accepting the hurt as inescapable.

W Corp Yi Sang - Abandoned hopes for freedom, just wants it to hurt a little less

G Corp Outis - Knows she cannot escape the unfair treatment

LCB Ishmael - Lashes out and hurts others because she is deeply hurting, making it more painful for her too

Pride

Pride is the belief that they are different from other people, and so the rules don't apply to them. This can seem as arrogance at first, even if they are not actually like that.

S1 Pride Examples

LCB Sinclair - Rich boy 1

LCB Hong Lu - Rich boy 2

LCB Faust - Doesn't hide that she thinks she's better than everyone else

S2 Pride can contain disdain for other people, and believing they are better than those around them. Therefore, their actions can be excused in their eyes.

S2 Pride Examples

LCB Meursault and LCB Outis - Competent and they know it themselves. Outis thinks of her comrades as dirt and points and laughs when they die.

W Corp Ryoshu - Her art comes from chopping up the dead and deformed passengers, doesn't give a single shit about them

LCB Rodya - Believed she was special enough to make a difference and split the hag's skull.

S3 pride goes a step further - their own desires take precedence over anyone else's. They may even see other people's lives as literally the same as a blade of grass. If they want something, they'll trample everything and anything.

S3 Pride Examples

The One Who Grips Faust - Probably doesn't even give a shit about the grand ideology or her minions. Just did it because she could, and wanted to.

The Middle Little Sister Don Quixote - "I can kill anyone who disrespected my organization!"

LCB Ryoshu - Has the littlest regard for human life.

Envy

Envy can start out with the simple desire to surpass someone, to become better than others. To want more than what other people have.

S1 Envy Examples

Tingtang Gangleader Hong Lu - Began wanting to be stronger, to have more power.

LCB Heathcliff - Rich bastards are annoying, they don't deserve it more than I do

Shi Ishmael - Just wants to survive in a world of dog eat dog

S2 envy is the need to be better than what you once were, to surpass yourself and get something accomplished.

S2 Envy Examples

LCB Yi Sang - Bettered his own craft and created the mirror.

Pequod Members - Lay their past self to rest, and opted to hunt the whale.

R.B. Chef Ryoshu - Wants to make better and better pies

S3 Envy is the result of their desire to surpass - or that they have accomplished something, but with a heavy price.

S3 Envy Examples

W Corp Ryoshu - Extremely powerful, but her sword will suck up her health if she doesn't charge it properly.

R Corp Heathcliff - Gained insane power but lost something important to him in the process.

LCB Sinclair - Was able to avoid getting prosthetics but his whole family dead.

Pequod Heathcliff - Managed to get out of the Middle but is covered in scars he can't erase.

I will continue to write more specific theories, but this is how I feel about the sin affinities right now! I'd love to write about EGO and enemies as well soon.

#limbus company #meta #fan theory #faust lcb #ishmael lcb #sinclair lcb #don quixote lcb #gregor lcb #project moon #outis lcb #lcb heathcliff #lcb hong lu #lcb ryoshu #lcb rodya #lcb yi sang #lcb meursault

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lustspren · 3 months

Text

Darkbloom ft Arin.

length: 7k words✦

Arin & Male Reader

genres: succubus¡ (or maybe something else) dom¡ Arin, femdom, cum denial, hard sex, bdsm, diabolical breeding (?, blowjob, overstimulation, thriller, horror attempt (?

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Skepticism is a double-edged sword. You learned that in a way that you wouldn't wish even on your worst enemy.

You were always told to take care of your stress, keep it at a healthy level so that it didn't affect other aspects of your life and your physique, but life events weren't exactly working in your favor. Quite the opposite.

Abusive boss at work, parents who do nothing but trample all your achievements and point you out for what you could be but aren't yet, a completely brainless roommate, a landlord who made your life miserable with the rent, and if all that wasn't enough, you were a complete failure in love. Things seemed impossible to get worse, but you were very wrong.

All the accumulated stress began to take its toll on you one by one. The mildest thing was the constant headaches and chest pains, but as the days went by your face began to stain, it wasn't acne, but you had more pimples and blackheads than normal. You didn't worry too much about it, you just bought a few skin care products and the problem went away.

Until anxiety arrived. And for that there were no products you could buy.

It wasn't something pleasant at all, especially considering that they were random episodes when you least expected it. Knots in the pit of your stomach, panic attacks in high-stress situations, a constant layer of nerves wherever you go, lack of appetite, etc. You lived with it every day, but that didn't stop you from staying strong and continuing to fight life with your head held high.

But since there were never enough misfortunes, something happened to you that, in your 22 years of life, had never happened to you. Sleep disorders. They weren't a big deal at first, from 3 nights you could suffer from insomnia in 2, and it wasn't even anything severe, it just delayed your usual bedtime a little, however, everything went downhill very quickly. The insomnia had almost completely disappeared, but now every time you woke up you felt as if an African elephant had walked over you several times. You slept, but you didn't rest. And that led to the damn narcolepsy.

Just like anxiety, it came at the most unexpected times and in the most inopportune situations. You got more than one scolding at work because of that, and your boss, as asshole as always, didn't even bother to try to understand you or find a solution to your problem no matter how much you explained it to him. Of course you never told him that he was part of the problem.

Everything accumulated, and as if living with anxiety problems, headaches, narcolepsy, and poor sleep wasn't enough, strange things began to happen.

One night you went to bed early, it had been an extremely exhausting day and you had a migraine that was going to kill you at any moment. You thought that valerian tea would help you sleep peacefully that night, and surprisingly you were right, but when you woke up in the morning you felt an intense burning on the right side of your body that went from your ribs to the mid of your thigh. You thought it was due to a bad sleeping position, surely the fabric of your pajamas had been making some kind of harmful friction, but when you undressed to take a shower you froze when you realized that what was burning on you was a large mark of red-hot scratch with a little blood seeping from several of the wounds that, you didn't have to be very smart to know were from a hand. You would associate it with something caused by sleepwalking issues, and taking into account your recent history it wouldn’t have surprised you, but those were nail marks. And your nails were neither long, nor sharp.

You were never a believer in paranormal things, you looked for a logical explanation for everything or left it as a mystery, no matter how incredible it was. But with the incident that night, no matter how much you turned it over in your head and discussed it with one of your close friends, you couldn't come to any coherent conclusion. Something had given you that scratch. Something big.

However, being the skeptic that you were, you didn't let that affect your bedtime —which was already screwed up enough. You continued to sleep every night with the same false optimism, thinking that it was only a matter of time before the insomnia and all your sleep problems would disappear. Much to your misfortune, this time you were wrong. And not only that, the worst was yet to come.

One day you couldn't stop tossing and turning in bed, looking for a comfortable position to sleep for about an hour. Finally you were just on your back, with one leg drawn up towards your body, your left arm on your chest and the other on your head. You did your best to relax with breathing exercises, and after a few minutes you fell asleep.

Hours later you woke up with a start, agitated and in a cold sweat. Your chest inflated and deflated as if moments ago something had been cutting off your breath to an almost fatal point. You didn't remember anything at all, you hadn't even had a nightmare as such, everything just went from deep black to sitting in your bed, at 3 in the morning, with the strange feeling that you were being watched. Everything seemed in order, but the aura in the bedroom was heavy, as if you were at a high latitude where oxygen became more difficult to breathe. You looked to the left, towards the door whose lower frame let in the light from your hallway, and then to the right, staring out through the translucent curtains that covered the exit to your balcony. The deep silence was overwhelming even though you were used to it, but the wind began to howl, shaking the branches and leaves of the tree that was right in front of your residential building. It was normal at that time, but it started to blow harder, to the point where you thought the tree was going to fall. Your anxiety attacked the pit of your stomach, and as panic began to take over your body, you heard a feminine laugh in the distance that gave you goosebumps.

Despite being several meters away from your window you could hear it clearly. It was creepy, high pitched and uncontrolled, like those you heard coming from witches in the movies, but she didn't sound like an old, dilapidated and crazy woman, she sounded like a whole and upright young woman. It could have been your suggestion at the time, but you felt as if the echo of laughter was resonating within your walls. You soon realized that wasn't the case, but rather the laughter was getting closer and closer. Until he was inside your room.

The noise came from all directions, from the floor, from the ceiling, from the corners and from the walls. It felt like a powerful sound system installed inside the concrete, playing the unbearable sound over and over again. You desperately covered your ears with your pillow, but the noise was so loud it was useless. You had an uncontrolled urge to cry, but just when a tear was about to run down your cheek everything stopped. Sudden silence, once again.

Distrustful, you slowly removed the pillow from your ears, looking at every corner of your room in case the macabre woman appeared, but nothing happened. Everything was still in deep silence, even the wind had stopped blowing, and when you decided to lie down with your heart still in your throat, something started trying to open your door.

With a scream you turned and stared at the door, the knob was moving violently, and the entire door seemed about to fall out of the frame because of how hard it shook. You looked through the frame below, expecting to see the shadow of whoever was trying to break in, but there was nothing. Whatever it was, it was doing it from inside. You were immersed in a deep dread that led you to hide under your covers like a little child, just waiting for everything to stop. A few seconds passed in which you simply stayed in the fetal position, did breathing exercises to counteract the panic, and clung to your pillow as if it were going to protect you. That thing would come in any second, you were already resigned, but everything stopped. Sepulchral silence.

You didn't want to get out from under the covers, the fear that something was still out there not letting you move. The notion of time became blurry for you, it could have been 10 minutes or an hour until you gathered the courage to peek over the top edge of your blanket. There was nothing in your room, everything was still perfectly in order.

Your phone served as a distraction for a few minutes. You scrolled through every social network non-stop, looking for stimuli that would make you relax and forget about what just happened. However, the funny posts did not make you laugh, the tender things did not move you, and the news did not produce the slightest emotion in you. And even though you were still terrified, your body demanded you sleep again, so you put the phone aside and turned to your natural side, turning your back to the door.

But looking there made your blood run cold. The glass door that led to the balcony, which you locked every night without fail, opened.

You couldn't sleep the rest of the night.

From that day on you decided to finally try to make a change in your life. You had a small savings fund that was going to help you survive for at least a month, so you quit your job. Your parents reproached you for this, but you cut off communication with them in absolutely every way. Two stress sources less. Thanks to that you had several days of peaceful rest. You believed that everything would get better for you, however, you had the feeling that it was already too late.

Everything had disappeared, your anxiety, your stress problems, your insomnia and your narcolepsy, but now there was one last big problem that was the icing on the cake. Sleep paralysis.

Same as always, it started in an almost harmless way. The paralysis lasted less than a minute, nothing comparable to those that followed. It got worse and worse with each day, you heard whispers, voices, shadows where before there was nothing, dark silhouettes that looked at you from outside the balcony, and worst of all, you woke up with random scratches and bruises on parts of your body that you would never have hurt yourself.

That was not an impediment for you to continue living your life normally, it was going too well for the first time in a long time for something that happened only once during the night to ruin it, so you decided to focus on the good part that life offered you. Exercise and good nutrition became part of your daily routine, as well as normal interpersonal relationships. Many toxic friendships that did not bring you anything good were also put aside, and you felt like a fuller human being since then. Your life was going so well that sleep paralysis seemed like a rather small price to pay compared to what you got after overcoming it.

But you remember when I said the worst was yet to come, right? Yeah, yes you do.

The worst night of your life. At that moment you thought it would be the last.

That night you had your valerian tea as you always did, an hour before your bedtime. It had been a productive day for you, in the morning you went to the gym, you came home and then you went out to lunch with a girl you met at one of your training sessions, and when you got home you dedicated yourself to building a Lego set that you had saved for a long time, but you left it halfway because you got distracted and got busy with other things.

When you put on your pajamas and got under the blanket you were more than ready to face whatever you were hallucinating when you woke up in the middle of the night. That had become a habit for you, and you already knew how to get out of it quickly. But this time you noticed strange things again, none of them were especially strange as such, but things that hadn't happened months ago and that were now all coming together. To begin with, the wind was blowing much stronger, just like that traumatic night, and a light drizzle disturbed the previously profound silence that characterized the street where you lived. It was not unpleasant for you, the sound of the drops falling in a certain way contributed to your tranquility and relaxation.

One of the dogs on your street was howling repeatedly, and no matter how much Mrs. Yvonne told him to shut up, he just wouldn't stop. The last time he had done that it was because someone who lived in that house had died, but earlier that day you had greeted Mrs. Yvonne's daughter on the way to the gym and everything seemed in order. The howl could be heard far away and was covered by the sound of the drizzle, so it didn't bother you either. Maybe the booming music just a few apartments away could have been a little annoying, but you could perfectly fall asleep that way. After a while looking at your social networks you were ready to close your eyes, and when you turned to your side you saw something that you wanted to never see again. The damn door was open again, just like that night.

Not wanting to give in to panic, you got out of bed as quickly as you could and closed the door again, but not before taking a look at the long street in front of your balcony. Everything looked as usual, only now the asphalt shone from the reflection of the lights in the puddles that the drizzle was beginning to form. You could see the dog howling at the window of the third floor apartment at the end of the street. You noticed that in his pauses between howling he was looking in your direction. A chill ran down your spine, but you wanted to think it was just a coincidence. You turned to go back to your bed, but first you looked at the Eiffel Tower behind the Paris buildings, hoping that perhaps its light would protect you from the night. How deluded.

As you settled back into your bed you thought about the door, this time trying to fool yourself that it would surely have a logical explanation this time. Maybe this time you did forget, or maybe the wind had shaken it in such a way that the lock came out of place. Whatever it was, you weren't about to ruin your night, so you just turned your back on the balcony, hugged your second pillow and closed your eyes.

You opened your eyes and you were in the most terrifying, atrocious and colossally brutal place you could imagine. The glare of the gurgling river of lava just meters from your feet blinded you and prevented you from seeing the entire scene. You took a few hasty steps backwards, tripping over a rock that made you fall on your butt to the ground, the dark, hot reddish sand staining your hands. When your eyes got used to that light you felt like your soul was leaving your body. Hundreds of people of all ages and ethnicities, chained one behind the other by rusty metal hooks stuck in their empty eye sockets, slowly walking along the river of lava that stretched from up the hill, winding through large rocks of all shapes, most of them with sharp peaks and whose foundations fell off to fall into the lava with big splashes.

The line of people moved forward at slow, tortuous steps, their decomposed and burned bodies somehow still standing. Their feet were scorched up to the fibula thanks to the lava, and their hands were cut off so that they couldn't remove the hooks from where there used to be eyes. But they still had a mouth with which to scream in deep agony and suffering, in a way so heartbreaking that it penetrated your bones and managed to convey to you what they felt. You wanted to look where they were going, but your stupor didn't let you take your eyes off what was watching those people.

Humanoid-looking figures, as tall as a four-story building, with spindly limbs and glossy skin as black as the night itself. They were not wearing any clothes, so their thin, almost bony physique was completely exposed. They also had no facial features, just slight depressions where their eyes should be and a line that ran from their chin to the middle of their neck. Their heads were completely bald, and the fingers of their hands were long and pointed, reminding you of the legs of a spider. They did not interfere in any way with those condemned to torture, they only limited themselves to watching while they prowled around in an apparently intelligent manner. Detailing them, you realized that they did not walk, they floated just centimeters off the ground. All looked exactly the same, some flew away into the air and disappeared in the smoke, others stayed to watch with interest what was happening there.

You looked away for a second, and as you looked further the river became thinner and thinner and the rocks much bigger, now looking more like small mountains. Behind them, a flaming lava fall that came from so high the smoke prevented you from seeing the origin. It was like a huge hellish cave with no roof, a cave in which you were trapped with those things.

You tried to run, but when you tried to turn around, something kept you pinned in place. You didn't feel anything touching you, it was as if your entire body was inside an intangible prison that made your paralyzed muscles vibrate and feel outside that plane. You would soon discover the horrible reason. One of those things was facing your direction. No, in fact it was looking at you. The thing had no eyes, but you knew it, you knew that you had attracted its attention. Not exactly for the better.

You were terrified, you wanted with all your might for that horrible nightmare to end. The humanoid thing, however, had other plans. If it had any plan. The vibrating feeling in your body disappeared, that was a good thing. But you no longer felt your body at all. The next thing you knew, you were levitating very slowly away from the ground, and that damn thing was coming towards you. It wasn't until it was in front of you and you were level with its non-existent face that you really realized the colossal magnitude of that thing. Its head was easily larger than your entire entire body.

You levitated in the air in front of the thing for a few seconds that felt like hours. You didn't know for sure if looking at the slits that it had instead of eyes was the right thing to do, but you couldn't do anything else, in fear even your eyes were paralyzed.

After a while of just floating you started moving again, this time forward. The line that ran down to its neck, which from that distance you noticed looked like a stitched scar with hundreds of small interlocking stitches, opened wide to either side. There was nothing inside, and that was the scary thing. It was pure black in there, not a hint of shadow, or light, or anything. Pure emptiness that you didn't know why, but you had the feeling that it wasn't emptiness itself. There was something in there, something that perhaps escaped your understanding as well as that of the human being.

You floated slowly in there, unable to scream or move a single muscle. Your limbs disappeared into nothingness, and the only thing your peripheral vision saw was pure black. The sound was completely suppressed, similar to when you went underwater. And when you noticed the scar closing behind you, you woke up with such a start that your chest hurt.

You tried to scream with all your might, but nothing came out of your mouth. You also tried to move without any success. Another damn sleep paralysis. You closed your eyes, already used to the sensation and knowing how to get out. However, no matter how much you closed your eyes, the paralysis did not go away. Resigned, you opened your eyes again, thinking that maybe it was a matter of time, but looking around your room you realized that something was not right.

A shadow in the upper corner of your room. It shouldn't be there, there was absolutely nothing to project it, much less when your entire room was dark and the only light in it came from outside. You stared in that direction, and then you heard that damn laugh again, only this time it was within your four walls. It came from the darkness. You were coming from a horrifying nightmare worthy of the most disturbing horror movies, the last thing you needed to hear that maniacal laugh again. The shadow seemed to pulsate with a life of its own with each laugh, and spread in all directions until it broke away from the corner. A speck of pure blackness floated slowly through your room, and after a few turns around each corner, it came down to you. You shouldn't have, but you felt weight on your body. Not the typical feeling that there was something on top of you like in all sleep paralysis. No, there was something on top of you.

The darkness had materialized into a physical object. More specifically a person, who was straddling you and who you could see. She was a woman, but not just any woman, possibly one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your entire life. She looked dark due to the lack of light, yet you could make out a faint shine in the dark brown hair that passed behind her ears and fell free down her back. You would have been somewhat turned on by the fact that she had two pretty small breasts exposed, if it weren't for the two enormous horns protruding from either side of her head, curving back and then forward in a hooked shape. Her horns weren't the only thing different about her, so was the strange artificial fabric that seemed to cover every part of her body except for her torso, neck, crotch, and apparently her buttocks. Detailing it, you realized that it looked exactly like the skin of those things in your nightmare, and that it was part of her body, not some kind of suit. A symbiotic relationship between woman and... something.

Dread invaded your body again.

"What's wrong, little boy?" the woman asked with a giggle that you knew more than well. She leaned forward, and you delved into her delicate, princely features. Completely contrasting with the two shiny black irises in her eyes, "Oh... right, you can't talk," her voice sounded like any girl's, even sweet.

She raised a hand and brought a long, sharp nail to your mouth. The nail didn't touch you, but it seemed to tear something in the air around your lips. You were finally able to scream in terror.

"What are you?!! What's going on?!!" you whimpered, trying to move even a single muscle in vain.

"You humans are too stupid to understand," she leaned in even closer, her breasts now pressed against your chest, her face inches from yours, "But I think you saw something very similar to me in that nightmare of yours," Her smile gave you chills. She didn't have teeth, she had blades.

"A-are you one of those things?!"

"See? You're too much of an idiot," she remarked, "I'm one of those things... but at the same time I'm not. If I were, you'd already be dead inside the void."

"The w-...what?"

"In your nightmare one of my kind swallowed you, right? Inside you cease to exist. Your body leaves the physical plane, and your soul is sent into nothingness. Nothing pleasant of course. But luckily for you..." she pressed her nail in the middle of your chest and moved down past your navel, tearing your t-shirt along the way, "I'm not here to do that."

"Please leave me alone... I haven't hurt anyone! I'm a good person!!" Despair grew more and more inside you, and with it, fear.

"I don't care if you're a good person or a bad person," she laughed again, "I just care about what's right here..." her hand moved down to your crotch to cup it against your cock.

"Don't touch me, god, please don't," you wanted to cry, but your eyes didn't even produce tears, "Don't hurt me!"

"Aw..." she straightened, "but I'm not going to hurt you! At least... not too much," her macabre smile spread from ear to ear, and her eyes looked at you before she transformed back into a shadow

The speck of darkness, smaller and more concentrated this time, fluttered throughout your entire body. You tried to follow her with your eyes, but the only thing you saw was how all your clothes were torn to pieces by what you knew were her nails. Once again you tried to scream, but nothing. When you were practically naked she materialized again on top of you, and your body began to burn everywhere. When you looked at yourself you noticed that your entire body was scratched and red hot, some wounds were even bleeding a bit.

"Stop trying to yell, you're annoying," she rolled her eyes, "and don't make me stop you from talking again."

"What are you going to do with me?! Why me?!"

"Because you used to be a little ball of negative emotions... you lured me here. And there's no turning back, not until you give me your darkbloom seed," you didn't have to be a genius to understand what she meant by that.

"But I'm not one of yours!!"

"I know. But I'm not looking to create one of my own..." her devilish smile terrified you again. On the other hand, you weren't completely in control of your body, and her thighs even covered in that fabric felt pleasant on either side of your hip, "You wouldn't understand. You're a stupid, primitive human."

"Y-You're not a demon, aren't you?"

"Demons don't exist, fool. Stop asking questions, you wouldn't want your little brain to explode with information it can't understand... wouldn't you?" She brought her hand closer to your cock, you feared thinking she would rip it off, but she just subtly grabbed it and started rubbing it. You hated that it felt good, but you hated more how you went rock hard in a matter of seconds.

She kept moving her hand on your cock, maybe a little too hard, but it felt like any other girl's hand—clearly none of those girls were half of a species unknown to you. At first she did it slowly, and you enjoyed it. In a normal circumstance you would have let out a small moan, but you couldn't produce any sound other than words.

"Just… don't kill me," you pleaded, looking into her eyes. The fear in you didn't go away, but you weren't going to let it control you. It's not like you could do anything anyway, you just didn't want to give in to panic and test the patience of a supernatural being.

"No one said anything about killing you. But I hope your body can withstand what I'll do to it."

The woman got off you and lay down on one side of you, with her head above yours, so that what was on your right were her pair of pretty tits. You didn't know why, but you wanted them in your mouth. She raised a thigh on top of yours, the artificial fabric covering her body feeling soft and warm against your skin. Her body pressed against the side of yours, her pussy—seemingly as normal as her tits—rubbing against your pubic bone.

"Suck my tits. You humans love that, don't you?" she ordered over your head. Her hand gradually moved faster on your hard cock.

"To human women... yes," you believed what you were saying, but those tits and she looked like a human, "I-I can't move anyway."

"I'd let you move and take control. But I don't think you want to suffer the side effects of touching me with your hands," she moved her hand faster, and suddenly you were able to gasp.

"And they are?"

"You could become addicted to me. Dependent on my body. And believe me, you wouldn't want that," was what she said before covering your view with her chest and putting one of her tits in your mouth.

You expected a different taste, maybe a pungent or rotten taste, but it tasted like skin, normal skin. You started moving your tongue and lips. Her chest felt soft, like a small cotton cloud inside your mouth. You still felt a little uncomfortable and strange with what was happening, but when the hand on your cock started to feel that good you had no choice but to give in to your carnal impulses. Now every time she switched from one mound to another inside your mouth you ate it as good as you could, sucking and licking both nipples as if your life depended on it—maybe it did.

"You seem really good at that," you never thought she would moan, but she did, "what else is that mouth good for other than asking questions you don't want to know the answers to?"

Without stopping moving her hand, she sat up and climbed on top of you again. This time she turned her back on you, which she also had uncovered. At that moment the moon came out of the clouds, and illuminated both her "normal" skin and her other skin. One looked beautiful and pale, the other looked smooth and shiny despite being a deep black. Just like those damn things in your nightmare. Her hair looked normal too, a deep brown and with a shine that looked like hair gel, but you couldn't be sure. Anyway, you stopped seeing both her back and her hair, as she leaned back until her unexpectedly beautiful ass was planted against your face.

Her pair of thighs pressed on either side of your head, as you felt them you realized that the closest thing to what that second skin felt like was the tightest latex. But it wasn't latex, there were no seams or edges anywhere, both skins fused together naturally. Of course that wasn't the important thing at the time. Your face was buried between her ass cheeks, and your mouth met a very dangerously delicious pussy.

You were going to put your mouth in motion, but you felt a tingling in your lower abdomen. She had not stopped moving her hand for a single second, she moved it in a frantic and tireless manner. You were about to explode, and just as you were going to release your load—or your darkbloom seed, as she called it—she stopped. Now you could scream and complain, but it was no use being smothered against tender, warm flesh. You couldn't squirm in protest either. It was a desperate feeling.

"Stop complaining and eat, you damn scum, eat!" it could have been a figment of your imagination, but you almost felt her voice distort a little as she said that.

You ate. You ate as well as you could, imagining that she was a normal woman—in a way she was. Passionate kisses, licking, sucking, everything necessary to make her moan more and more, and louder. You wondered if the neighbors would hear any of it through the walls. It was quite late, maybe 3 or 4 in the morning. If so, you were going to get a good scolding later.

In an unexpected act she collapsed forward, and with one hand grabbed your cock to put it in her mouth. You had to make a mental archive, but you were sure it was the best that had ever housed your cock ever. It was a feeling impossible to describe in words, but it made sense for you to attribute it to her simply not being human. She bobbed her head up and down expertly, as if it were the most exciting sport for her. You just ate, tasting the most delicious pussy you had ever felt against your lips.

Her mouth took every inch of your cock without any problem, making it clear that her gag reflex was non-existent. With each pump you felt her nose touch your balls and her chin touch your pubes. You moaned against her pussy, and she moaned even louder. Her thighs pressed on either side of your head tensed, and you felt that if she wanted to, she would have crushed it like a watermelon. She ground her ass against your face, rubbing her extremely wet pussy against your mouth and nose. That didn't make much sense to you, if she wasn't human, how could she secrete fluids?

Your cock vibrated with her moans, and her pussy vibrated with yours. You knew she wasn't going to let you cum unless she did first, so you doubled your efforts. These paid off faster than you expected, as she seemed to orgasm with a ragged, uncontrolled scream that made her pull your cock out of her mouth.

"Oh yes! YES!" Once again, her voice seemed to distort as she screamed and writhed on your face, but you were no longer sure if it was your imagination, "now you let me see that seed!"

She didn't reintroduce your cock into her mouth, but rather she went back to what she was originally doing. She grabbed your cock with both hands, and she started moving them aggressively up and down. Without any care or kindness. It hurt you a little the way she did it, but apparently that point of ecstasy brought her to a state where she didn't care about you—she never did in fact—but about her own pleasure and desires. You didn't mind this at all, you were already too close, and this time it really seemed like your lucky moment.

Her thin hands rubbed your cock up and down so hard and fast that you felt like it was going to catch on fire any second. You let out a loud muffled moan against her pussy, and in the midst of rapid movements of her wrist you came.

"That's it, give it to me!" She grunted as you shot jets of hot cum into the air, and then she squeezed your balls so hard that you screamed in pain, "More, give me more!"

She didn't stop moving one of her hands, nor did she slow down even though you kept shooting cum everywhere. The overstimulation and the grip on your balls continued to bring uncontrolled screams from your throat. Your cock ached, and you didn't think it was possible, but as soon as you stopped cumming, less than five seconds passed until you had another spike of pleasure. More cum shot everywhere, more screams of pain.

"So hot, so thick… so delicious!" This time you confirmed that, indeed, her voice did distort when she felt sexual arousal.

You were starting to feel too much pain, but she stopped right then and got off of you. When you saw her she was all covered in your cum, from her face to her tits and her abdomen. You also noticed that she had eaten some, as it was between her lips. Her dilated eyes seemed to have a glow coming from within, a sparkling white glow.

"Now you're going to give me your seed..." her tone of voice was normal again, but it sounded menacing and malevolent, "you're going to fill me with that magnificent piece of meat, and you're going to make my dark womb awaken."

"I don't want to put anything inside you… just leave me alone," it wasn't unusual to say that you felt drained during sex, but this time you felt literally drained of your vitality. You even felt dizzy.

"YOU DON'T CHOOSE THAT!" she screamed again with her voice distorted, so much that it didn't sound like her. Then she swiped your cheek with her nails, which sharpness you felt piercing your skin. As you felt the liquid run down your cheek you knew you were bleeding, and not a little.

Dread took over you again, and you began to hyperventilate.

She straddled you and then planted both feet on the mattress, adopting a squat form. She then took your still sore cock in one hand and started to stroke it until in some mysterious way it was hard again. She looked into your eyes, and after putting your cock straight, she impaled herself completely on it. She let out a squeak in her throat and threw her head back.

If her mouth felt good, her pussy felt like a transcendental experience for you. It was a mixture of overwhelming sensations, it felt wet, extremely soft, and extremely tight. You felt it throb around your shaft, producing tickling sensations that made you shudder. It would have felt better if it weren't for the fact that your cock felt like it was going to melt and you felt on the verge of throwing up and passing out.

Of course she wouldn't be nice to you at first, she started jumping on your cock with all the strength she had. You felt her ass bump against you so aggressively that you thought she was going to split you open. It felt wonderful, your cock sliding in and out of an unearthly pussy entirely, the non-existent friction making you moan with what little energy you had left. She dug her nails from each hand into your ribs, and you whimpered in pain. She didn't dig those blades deep, but enough to make you bleed there too.

"YES YES YES! IT FEELS DELICIOUS, YES!" she moaned between growls of pleasure, jumping on top of your cock again and again.

Your room was filled with violent sounds of flesh hitting flesh. You would have worried about the neighbors—not just your building, the entire street—but you were in the middle of a situation that you felt was close to literally killing you with pleasure. Her tight pussy wouldn't stop throbbing and working wonders on your cock. You also started to feel that her walls were feeling warmer than normal. Hot, not enough to cause burns, but hotter than a normal pussy could be.

Inevitably that led to you cumming again. You felt pleasure, and a lot. But you also felt pain, proportional to the amount of pleasure. A bittersweet feeling that made you want to cry. You shot much more cum into her, and felt her walls squeeze your shaft with the force of a hydraulic press.

"GIVE IT ALL TO ME, MGHHH!!!" distorted voice. This time she terrified you.

She had another orgasm while you filled her with thick liquid, but that didn't stop her. On the contrary, she looked even more excited. She didn't seem to look overstimulated, yet you were dying of pain.

"Stop it, please! It hurts a lot! STOP!!" you pleaded desperately, your jaw tense as well as your teeth. You closed your eyes, hoping that everything was just another horrible nightmare and that it would be over. This one didn't.

"SHUT UP, YOU PIECE OF SCUM, YOU'RE MINE!!" The distorted and terrifying voice not only echoed in your ears, but also the walls of your room. Just like that night.

In the blink of an eye she turned into a ball of shadow again, and in a matter of milliseconds she was now bouncing on your cock but with her back turned to you. Now you could see her beautiful ass bounce against your pubes and your cock continually appear and disappear between her butt cheeks. She knew it was going to turn you on. The bitch knew it, and that penetrated your bones with anger.

Her nails dug in again, but now in your calves. Same thing, you felt the burning of her tips digging in. You began to feel pleasure and the tingling in your lower abdomen again. You were close, but you also started to feel terribly bad, as if you had caught a sudden fever that made your body ache all over. Your head hurt too, and your eyes felt heavy. You were fainting.

"GIVE ME MORE!!" With that last evil scream from her you came.

The last thing you saw was your cum spilling between her folds and staining all over your cock. This time she did move slower, and the moment she got up from your cock, her second skin began to crawl with a life of its own to cover her entire body in black. Your cum stayed inside that bodysuit, and your vision went black.

The last thing you heard was that damn maniacal laugh.

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

Spren Notes:

Well, this is certainly radically different than anything I've written before lol. I hope I did well and didn't embarrass myself.

#oh my girl smut #smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #x male reader smut #x male smut #horror smut #arin smut #male reader smut #male reader insert

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thatbitchery · 5 months

Text

SUCCESS FORMULA 101

Lets talk about what really makes a person succesfull. No I don't mean the recycled stuff & the magical thinking manifesting stuff. Let's talk the real stuff. What really, like really really makes a woman succesful?

1 . The idea- decision gap

Planning is a productive form of procrastination. You overestimate the amount of control you have over time- space reality if you think you can anticipate the future & hold your own. Exhibit A: covid. Yes get your skeleton nailed down and have a second third fourth opinion but you have three days after the idea to begin execution. Do not overplay your power, you don't have that much control and your powers of perception are based on the past, not future. If you must plan get the first draft down then work with that. Here's a secret- you know those ultra succesful people you know? They're making it up as they go. Adaptation>> planning. If you want success reduce your idea to execution gap to max 3 days then go get it. Risk aversion is the enemy of innovation.

2. Embarrassment

My mentor taught me to not only anticipate but be fully amenable to embarrassment. Especially if you're looking at a career in creative and performed arts you can NOT skip this one. You want to be a singer? Writer? Influencer? Blogger? Vlogger?There will be a reddit thread about how much you suck. This is the fabric of success. Resilience is a woman's best friend. Embarrassment is the portal to growth. First day in the office messing everything up asking stupid questions underdressed with that accent- that's the price you pay for sitting on that CEO seat one day. The way to the top is from the bottom.

3. Boredom

Success is found in the small, mundane, repetitive, boring day to day tasks. It's hard to get far especially in corporate spaces because the boredom is crippling & we are innately a progressive species which means dopamine & adrenaline seeking so you leave your boring tasks for the high of chasing a new goal- no. Get very comfortable with boredom or move to creative arts. Success is found in consistency and consistency is found in repetition. Closing that million dollar deal isn't what made you succesful. It was the repetitive boring practises of sitting through meetings with a collective IQ of 18 that taught you patience, negotiation, jargon and attunement. It's not meeting the right guy that gave you a successful relationship it was your 8 year long friendships that you no longer pay attention to that taught you to communicate, empathise, have boundaries , the right way to love & be loved and recognize value. We tend to credit the spikes for the outcome when it's the consistency of the mundane that got us where we are. Success is the really boring stuff. Really really boring stuff. Success is a buildup.

4. Hierarchy

The swapping of "self sabotaging stupidity" with "feminism & empowerment" is easily one of the greatest downfalls of our generation. Social species= hierarchical you're not being a boss babe queen by speaking to your superiors in a condescending manner & inserting your opinions bc "you have a right to whatever". Uh , you don't. You don't have the right to embarrass your boss or call him out, you don't. Be the boss first then you can call the shots don't let rich kids on tiktok trick you into thinking you can get away with disrespect. Know your place. Power isn't taken its transferred. Meritocracy >> democracy if you want the right to throw your mouth around be the CEO then you can call the shots till then act your paycheck & plan your exit or social climb to a point your opinion matters because meritocracy will always trample democracy. Don't be stupid.

5. Baby & the bathwater

Another culprit for my generation's failure is the witch hunt & self righteous campaign that's cancel culture & virtue signalling. Influencers build their reputation on it so Candace Owens gets to call Beyonce out but you shut your mouth. Learn the concept of dichotomy and learn to take what resonates with you &go. The higher you climb the success ladder the lower your morals go & the more terrible people you have to tolerate so you'll sit 4 hours on a table with a sexist ugly pig making wild sexual innuendo because once that deal is signed your dreams come true. If you're walking a path of self proclaimed righteousness where you can't talk to people who do this and that don't bother. & this level of dissociation & delusion that allows you to think of people as good or bad will get you manipulated left right center. You want to be succesful? Not your monkeys, not your circus. Take what's yours and go. Don't lie to yourself & sabotage your own progress bc you're on a little righteousness campaign.

6. Learn to use people

The greatest resource on God's pretty beautiful earth is human beings. And time. Every single thing you want will come from a person, learn to use people & be used by them bc a relationship requires an exchange of value, don't be a greedy leechy taker. The most important part of success is human resource. If you're struggling with communication & negotiation dedicate everything you have to fixing it. The capital city of success is mutually beneficial relationships ie relationships where people consciously consensually use each other in an equilibrium of value exchange.

7. Emotional intelligence

Sucess doesn't like emotions. In fact those two are sworn enemies since the dawn of the planet. When emotions walk through the door success jumps out the window. Now, I want us to understand- when I'm saying this I'm not saying be a robot- you're not. Emotions are important. They're a compass. You look at them, listen to what they're saying and decide what to do with that. I'm not saying make an enemy our of your humanity, emotional intelligence isn't synonymous with emotional negligence. I'm saying you don't make decisions based on them. You don't express them in public unless it serves you to. You don't shut them down- don't be a psycho- but also don't make them something theyre not- an identity. It's a compass. You need it to move in the right direction, but you carry the compass not the other way around.

8. Offensive

This is where women in particular mess it up- never play defensive. Ever. Unless it's a backhanded game & manipulation tactic always play the offense. Defending yourself is weak af. Find a way to be on the offensive. Victims don't make it. They don't. They get the sympathy & provision & that's it. Success is a literal jungle hun especially corporate your little tearjerkers might get your bf to not leave you but in your office they'll get you abused & disrespected & shamed. Again- it is within the nature of a social species to attack its weak & at home you're safe bc your friends & family really do care about you but corporate & success is a competition. They hit low. They hit hard. It's merciless, you're competing for the same thing. Always play the offense. Always be in the offense. It's better to be the bully, if you get bullied you bully them worse &let everyone know yeah no I bullied him now what? Exactly. Be the mean girl. Be the bully. Take the offensive. Offensive is progressive. Defensive is survival.

9. Routines

Ive found that most people don't know the difference between routine & schedules. Wake up @5 to workout is a schedule. Working out before breakfast is a routine. I'll tell you this as someone with ADHD but an unbreakable routine, if you can not keep up with the time you'll mess up. You don't need to allocate time to set a routine. A routine is a sequence of events that's turned habitual. So if my routine is wake up work out drink water get my vitamins in it doesn't matter if I wake up @ 5am or 1 pm that's the sequence of activities that will take place. Routine is about muscle memory. It has to be subconscious. You have to instinctively know this is whst I should do & have it so ingrained that you don't even think about it it just happens. Training your muscle memory is a superpower. >86% of your day is governed by muscle memory. Think about that. If you just subconsciously headed to the gym and made a healthy meal & studied. Like, while spaced out. Just think about it. Like I said success happens in consistency & repetition. Quick take a guess how muscle memory is formed.

10 Reality

Success is delusion averse. Take the world for what it is and people for what they are & reality for that- reality and stop trying to substitute millions of years of evolution & adaptation with cheap politics, values and morals. Don't be dumb. See the world as is not as you wish it was. Forget all the self soothing politics you're buying into and go science. You can not undo in one century what's been in motion for eons though. Sociology & politics are just self soothing distractions. The world is what it is when you die it'll be exactly what it I'd, you're the one that'll have burned herself. Don't be stupid. Women can't be stupid.That XX is synonymous with Xtra Xmart okay? Okay.

TBY

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austinsastrology8991 · 1 year

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Mars Aspects, how you like to WIN

if you win,i dont win so i gotta turn my loss into yours, becsuse we can't all be winners. i didnt change my mind, just chose a better outcome, whats your choice?

Mars aspecting sun - winning at all costs, they appear like a winner, but the means and ways they go about it are so in your face, you become impressed but simultaneoulsy concerned. but thats what gets them off. they turn the expression show dont tell, into show and tell everybody. which gives them more enemies, but also makes em more fierce. also flambouyant just to throw their enemies off lol. mars aspecting moon - they like to win behind closed doors. they want you to belive in them, simply becsuse they believe in you. its what gets them emotionally secure i guess. the security of winning. but its just confusing becsuse for example we watching tv on da couch, and your trynna pull a funny. sit down we still love you we just tired. but if you put them in there place expect a tantrum. mars aspecting mercury - basically death note. intellectual competitors/debators always playing the chess game of anything; "whats the best move here" also super entertainign speakers, can talk super fast and aggressively. also very into learning, they want to dominate the intellectual sphere. they wanna argue with everyone but no one wanna bite back lol. also > can't catch deez hands

mars aspecting venus - agrresively charming. there charisma just exudes from there aura naturally, people just laugh at these guys so easily, because they just are likeable with it. also people love it when they are angry, they just fall for em harder. but they dont like to get angry becsuse theyd rather just be charming mars aspecting jupiter - so much movement, they move like the "wacky waving inflatable arm tube man" - family guy. but seriously the way they move peopple just cant believe they move like dat, they move so strangely but hypnotically. also so much energy these guys can do a million sets in da gym and eat the whole fridge. they just got way too much energy and it shows... they also just get really lucky w competition, victory just lands in their lap lol. mars aspecting saturn - these guys are always striving to be da best at whatevrr there mind is set on. if they gotta goal, then whatsver is obstructing there path better move or they gonna trample all over it/ya. kinda intimidating. but this usually sets them back, but in the end only makes them stronger/ more fierce. because to them the fear people have of them is also getting in there way lmao. unless it works to there favour... basically control freaks and they only care about their agenda, but will pretend to have your interests in mind, just to get there ends. mars aspecting uranus - these guys are the true psychopathic freaks, everyone i know with this aspect is sadistic and also enjoys getting hit. people stay away from them, because they know they just wanna hit them lol. even when they acting nice, after like a week they show their crazy psychotic side, and everyones like yeahhhhh idk about you. but they dont mean harm they just view violence as intriguing i guess.... they like to win by fighting everyone and anyone lmao, but its play fighting, unless you try them... they really are the psychopaths; extremely calculated and precise with there attacks. they think they doing you a favour by attacking you lol. mars aspecting neptune - idk why but they always getting sexualized, probs because they are an easy target, and there submissiveness gets people going like "i can hurt them and they will literally just apoliogize :D" i feel bad for these lot, but there forgiveness really does shine through, i guess they dominate through submission... go figure. they like to win you over with their pure hearts <3 mars aspecting pluto - they literally do nothing and everyone is intimidated lmao. you can just tell these guys will not just kill you but torture you and enjoy it lol. thats why they always acting like they are not a threat, because they are begging for someone to challenge them, but they are so bad at acting innocent, everyone can tell they are a wolf in sheeps clothing. its all or nothing with them. but they choose their prey very carefully... they like to win at all costs no matta the price.

#mars aspects #astrology aspects #astrology observations #astrology notes #astrology placements #astrology #astrology community #astro observations #astrology blog

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cherrychilli · 6 months

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Slip of the Tongue

A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers

Chapter one

Eddie Munson, AFAB reader, neighbor! reader.

Reader and Eddie are the same age - she's in College and he's repeating his senior year once again.

Chapter Summary: You discover that Eddie's been practicing a very interesting new trick on his guitar, one which he offers to use on you under the guise of giving you some much needed stress relief.

A/N: Listen, series scare the shit out of me but I'm trying to challenge myself with a tiny one. I kind of already feel like I'm biting off more than I can chew but I'm going to give it my best shot.

Inspired by those clips of Steve Vai and Jimi Hendrix. ifkyk.

Chapter warnings: Nothing explicit this chapter. Some suggestive stuff but the real smut begins next chapter, so if you want more you better let me know!

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He's doing it again. Of course he's doing it again.

You tilt your head forward, forehead dropping into your hands. Heatedly, you mutter your annoyance under your breath, thumbs rubbing at throbbing temples and eyes squeezing shut when the music picks up to an ear ringing volume.

Eddie Munson took sick pleasure in riling you up – you were certain of that given how he only ever seemed to plug in his guitar when it was time for you to study your coursework, wrecking your concentration and making your temper skyrocket with a kind of ease only he was capable of.

For years, you’d taken issue with the fact that your trailer neighbored his own, your bedroom becoming an echo chamber for every blaring chord progression and heavily distorted guitar riff that strummed out from Eddie's open window.

And as always, you felt the need to make your displeasure known.

Abandoning your textbooks, you hastily shove your shoes on to stomp over next door. You knew from painful experience that it was best to head behind the Munson’s trailer and approach Eddie’s bedroom window than to pound on the front door, the sound of his playing almost always too loud for him to notice your knocking.

Trampling over the patchy, dry lawn that lay between your homes, you made your way across, rounding the corner and striding up to the open window, fuming with thoughts of what you’d yell at him this time when you caught sight of the metalhead.

As expected, he's rocking out in the center of his unruly bedroom. No doubt having tuned the rest of the world out, channeling so much of his wild, boundless energy into his playing.

His mop of dark messy curls aren't tied back today, allowed to sway, tumble and whip around his face as he played to an audience of some devilish looking posters and a couple figurines that stood on his crowded desk, probably a part of that fantasy game he's always going on about.

He's dressed in grey sweats that hang low around his hips and a ratty old band tee that tended to ride up, you couldn't help but notice.

‘At least he’s got clothes on today’, you thought to yourself mirthlessly, only a touch thankful for the silver lining of not having to confront him while he's shirtless or in his boxers again. Not that he’d ever minded you seeing him like that before.

Your last encounter with Eddie was one you hoped to soon forget, cringing because he'd caught your gaze wandering when you came over to reprimand him for the noise again, becoming noticeably distracted by his bare chest and the tattoos adorning it.

You don't know how it happened, only that you fell into a sort of daze when your eyes slipped lower to follow the slope of his pale tummy, leading to the sparse trail of dark hair which thickened below his belly button and disappeared underneath the waistband of his boxers.

D'you want a picture or something, darling?, he'd quipped, growing even more pleased with himself when your face turned hot and the embarrassment of getting caught had you stuttering out the first thing you could manage.

"F-fuck off, Munson", you spit back and retreated awkwardly, the sound of his barking laughter as you did so ringing in your ears long after you made it back into your room and hid underneath your blankets for a good hour.

Yeah, that was hard to live down. As was trying to expunge the image of Eddie's unclothed torso from your mind.

Most times he could anticipate your arrival, like a lightning storm only he could forecast but this time he hasn’t seemed to noticed you yet, tongue pinched between his lips in concentration while his fingers travelled skillfully over the ebony fretboard of his guitar.

Watching him play like that sometimes made you think that if he hadn't plagued you for half your life with all of his antics, you might have admitted that he was good musician - that he had talent most people didn't care to acknowledge and maybe even go so far as to say that you found it impressive that he’d managed teach himself how to play in lieu of any lessons.

But you weren’t about to sing Eddie Munson's praises. Not when he was seconds away from making you pop a vein.

Taking a deep breath in, you prepared yourself to start the unpleasant cycle of bickering with your neighbor once again, hoping against hope that, at the very least, it'll be a short exchange this time.

“Ed-"

You meant to catch his attention with a single shout but the heated call flattens on your tongue in an instant, heart beat kicking up as you watch what he does next.

He lifts his treasured Warlock and you're half afraid for him when he casually flips the front of the instrument towards his face, its angular design and jagged edges enough to worry you even when he played on it the regular way.

But it's when his tongue stretches out, long and slick like a serpent, that things start to feel...hazy. Speechlessly, you stare as he slides it along one of the guitar's six strings, following the length of it from near the bottom of the fretboard while his left hand continued to flit over the strings by the neck, creating harmonics in a way you’d never thought was possible before.

Are my palms sweating?

The sound begins to shift again and your eyes bulge when he slides his tongue back down, flicking and picking the guitar strings by the tip of it with more speed and dexterity than you'd thought was possible, his fingers continuing to move seamlessly to hold down every note.

Eyes closed (and there was no chance of you letting that happen) there was no way you could've told the difference than if he’d been playing with his fingers all along, the sound just as sharp and crisp as as every time before.

It's filthy, bordering on vulgar the way he’s moving the silky pink muscle so expertly, so much so that it makes you feel like you're intruding, peeping in on something that only happened behind closed doors.

But that gnawing feeling isn't anywhere near enough to make you stop looking. Your gaze stays planted firmly on Eddie's mouth, the sight making your head crowd with static and your belly swirl with heat. Your thighs had been clamped together too, you realize, a sickening realization dawning over you when they rub together, registering the dampness pooling between them underneath your skirt.

Oh my god…am I w-?

And just as abruptly as the realization had sunk in, the song ends. Deafening silence returns to your shared corner of the trailer park when Eddie sets the guitar back down to hang by the strap fixed over his shoulder, eyes flicking to you as if he'd known all along that you'd been standing there, gawking at him.

"So, what do you think? pretty good, right? been working on it for weeks", he pants out, chest rising and falling softly with each labored breath.

Somehow, this feels so much worse than when he caught you staring the last time.

With luck, you're able to shake yourself out of your trance like state, round eyes narrowing in preparation to berate him as originally intended

"Fucking hell, Eddie would you keep it down? I'm trying to study!", you agonize, scrambling to find your fury again.

But your tone doesn’t seem to bother him, it rarely ever did. So he leans through the open window, elbows resting on the window pane, eyeing you up and down all amused.

"You look stressed", he observes, and it's the flippant way in which he does it that ticks you off, with the kind of lopsided smile you’d often described as annoying. For the most part because he’d almost always done something to that effect before flashing you one.

"I am", you confirm with an acidic glare, hoping he couldn't tell how frazzled his little performance had left you.

"And you're not helping so knock it off"

Turning on your heel, you're desperate to retreat back to your place for a reprieve, heart hammering inside your chest when he calls out to you again.

"I could help you relax, y'know"

The way he says it makes you pause, like he's about to let you in on a secret.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps. "I'm not buying weed from you Eddie", you answer back over your shoulder, trying to look unimpressed as you attempt to turn him down.

"I wouldn't charge", the boy winks at you without missing a beat, undeterred by your cold attitude and you hate that his persistence makes your face feel hot.

"But that's not what I was going to suggest"

"Oh?"

You turn around to face him again, intrigue building.

He takes a moment to scan you thoughtfully, brows furrowing, almost as if he's weighing the outcomes of what might happen if he were to continue.

"You liked what you saw, right?", his brown eyes flicked down to his guitar and back up to you in quick reference to what you were hoping to avoid.

The mention of what you'd witnessed him doing with his tongue brings that hot, sticky feeling sitting at the base of your stomach back in full force, alarm bells ringing in your head.

"What does that have to do with anything?", you ask cautiously, realizing a second too late that you’ve only confirmed his suspicion.

"Well..."

Eddie curls a finger up at you, rings glinting in the sunlight, beckoning you closer and for some reason you actually oblige, stepping up to his window until you’re only a foot apart from one another.

Low and throaty, he whispers to you. "I can do a lot more with my tongue than just shred on my guitar", flicking the muscle salaciously between his lips like a viper ready to strike.

It should revolt you, watching the crude gesture courtesy of the bane next door, the implication behind it enough to make your skin crawl.

So why doesn't it?

Why does it make you want to leap at him and close the distance between the two of you, hungry to feel his tongue against your own?

"You're disgusting", you tell him instead in an attempt to deflect, voice wavering through the lie.

But he's too astute to be fooled now. "And you like it", he counters easily.

"So are you going to cut the bullshit and climb in here or what?"

You stare at the hand he holds out to you and before you can think to just walk away, before you can pull yourself together and stifle the roaring fire inside lapping at your bones, your fingers have found their way to his.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x reader

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thewordfortheday · 2 months

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Jesus said,"I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you." Luke 10:19

Jesus Christ defeated satan on the cross of Calvary and stripped him of his authority. He is a defeated foe. Don't let him intimidate you, he cannot touch a single hair on your head. You are God's child, covered with the blood of Jesus. No enemy can harm you. So, walk with confidence and in the authority of God.

#bible verse #daily devotional #christian quotes #bible quotes #inspiration #daily devotion #christian quote #christian life #scripture #bible #satan

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kasagia · 4 months

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Lovers to strangers

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Lantsov princess! reader Summary: The worst thing that can happen is to go from a passionate, ardent feeling to cold indifference. Turning the people you held dearest into strangers. But could YOUR Aleksander ever be a stranger to you again? You have to choose what is more important to you. Ravka and the crown that is rightfully yours, or the man who trampled on your naive, young heart. The choice should be simple... right? Word Count: 8.9k Inspired by: Chance Peña - Lovers to strangers Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

The evenings at the Little Palace were your favourites.

Especially since, from the window of Aleksander's chambers, you had no view of the Grand Palace—your golden cage.

Princess of Ravka. A prisoner in her own country. Well... at least there was one place in the capital where you didn't feel like you were locked in.

Or rather, a bed...

"I can hear your toughts…" the man cuddling up to you mumbles into your collarbone. You can't help but giggle at the feeling of his soft lips brushing against your skin. The feeling of his rough beard gives you pleasant shivers.

"I thought Grisha couldn't read in minds… unless you have another special ability of which I don't know, my general." you say teasingly, stroking his hair.

You can't help but touch this dangerous man. Something has drawn you to him since the first day you came back to Os Alta after Nikolai's disappearance. And as you managed to get a taste of this incredible man, you wanted more and more.

"I have many things that you don't know yet, moya tsarevna. I am a danger. I will break your heart if you trust me so blindly."

"Saints, I love when you speak old Ravkan." you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Besides, you can't break something that doesn't exist."

It doesn't take long for him to kiss you back. His hand is immediately on your check as he pushes you back on the pillows. He hoovers above you, his lips (far from being gently) moving against yours as his tongue is slipping into your mouth like a snake. He conquers you in every sense of the word.

"Aleksander..." you moan, brushing against him.

"Your grace." he says teasingly, and then completely moves away from you. You look at him furious and offended as the frustration grows inside you. "My little brat. She always has to have what she wants, right?"

"You should know better than to challenge me. I am the heir to the throne, your princess."

"If I remember correctly, you have two older brothers." he points out, placing soft kisses on your collarbone. His beard tickles gently, only further amplifying the fluttering butterflies in your stomach.

"If I remember correctly, I have a general of the Second Army as my secret lover. The Darkling. With your shadows by my side and our combined intelligence and manipulation skills? We are unstoppable."

"Who said I wouldn't betray you? That I wouldn't make myself tsar and take you as my concubine or mistress?" he asks darkly, smiling slyly at you. His pearly teeth gleam menacingly, only making you laugh.

"You won't. You love me too much… Besides…" you lean closer to him and put the dagger to his throat. He laughs a little as he notices that it is the weapon that he had hidden under his pillow. "I'm much more than just a pretty face and royal blood. If you betray me, nothing will stop me from making you my enemy. It works both ways, Aleksander. If you hurt me, I will hurt you back. I won't sit and cry over my fate. I am creating my legacy and future. Not any men."

"I see." he grabs you by your hips and pushes on the headboard of the bed. You moan as he takes the dagger from you and puts it on your throat. "But don't you think this is better? You under me, trembling with desire." he whispers seductively into your ear. And you almost surrender to his touch and the seductive tone of his voice. Almost...

"You don't want an obedient toy. You want an equal. Only I can be one." you say confidently as you two stare into each other's eyes. You both breathe fast and heavily. You reach your hand towards his and put it on the tip of the dagger. "You wouldn't drag me to your bed if you didn't see it. You despise my family, just as I do, and Ravkans, but here you are: in bed with the princess of Ravka. And we both know that is not all about power, connections, or being part of a greater plan, is it?"

He looks at you deeply, watching your every little reaction as he leans towards you. His shadows play around; a few of them are climbing onto the bed and gently brushing against you two. You tremble with pleasure as you feel them on your hot skin. You moan, pressing yourself against him. You feel the coldness of the metal against your skin, and a little drop of blood slowly falls down on your chest.

He throws the dagger away and uses his tongue to lick the trace of blood on your skin. He sucks up the little wound he made a few seconds ago. You see the shadows getting around you as he loses himself in you.

"You're mine, Aleksander." you whisper into his ear. "And we are all we need anyway. Only I am able to see and embrace the darkness within you." you feel his moan at your words before you hear it. You tremble at his reaction.

"You will regret that, Y/N." he warns, or rather anticipates. You see the sincerity and concern in his eyes as they talk about how you will inevitably abandon him.

"Maybe. But not now." you gasp and pull him to you as you two kiss greedily. His hand goes to your waist, pressing you closer to him. You shiver as you feel the cold metal of his claw ring against your skin. "Sasha..."

"Say it again." he demands. His dark eyes glow against the shadows swirling around you. You lift your hand to caress his cheek softly and tenderly. Your fingertips brush against his chin as you slowly slide your hand down to his neck to trace the hickeys you've already given him.

"Sasha..." you moan as his lips brush against your jaw to tease your neck with their softness and warmth.

"Again." another silent command as the shadows begin to surround you more and more.

"Sasha... moi souveryni... moi ottenok (my shadow)." he silences you with a hard, demanding kiss, tangling his large hand in the back of your head and positioning you to suit his needs as he deepens the kiss, searching for your tongue.

Yes... the darkness of his chambers was definitely your favourite place on earth.

"Are you mad?” you huff, glaring at your elder brother.

You sit in your deceased father's chambers, discussing Ravka's fate in whispers among the nobility. Your eldest brother, Vasily, is chatting with some of the nobles, hoping that he will gain their sympathy as he is going to take the throne after your father. Little did he know that you two had other plans for Ravka.

"What? Do you have a better idea? Mother is going crazy, Vasily wants to play king, and the Grishas are about to start a civil war on us. There's no other way."

"I didn't become a widow just to fawn over some man again. Especially not over him. Besides, isn't he having eyes only on that Sun Summoner of yours?" you ask, nodding towards Alina, who is forced (as Vasily's fiancée) to stand by his side and listen to all the nonsense the nobles say.

"I'm not telling you to marry him... well, at least that's not what plan A is. Just approach him. Find out what he wants and whether he's willing to make arrangements with us. After all, you used to talk often. Especially at night in his chambers."

"Nikolai Lantsov, our father is lying dead in a coffin and you dare to remind me who I visited at night and who I didn't?"

"Please, as if you ever cared about that disgusting pig, who unfortunately for us was our father. Besides, you'd be curious too if I suddenly broke up with the love of my life and let our father sell me into marriage with Shu. Which was very surprising for all of us. You loved Kirigan. I know you did. And he felt the same." you roll your eyes at him, wondering where the bastard got this information since he wasn't in the palace at that time.

"And now I hate him. No. That's too much to say. I don't know him. I don't care about him. He's a stranger for whom I feel absolutely nothing. A traitor to the nation and the crown." you say, not hiding the anger in your voice.

"Don't say that as if we weren't called like that by our countrymen and subjects. But since you don't feel anything towards him, then I guess you won't be offended if I tell you that I solemnly invited him to negotiations regarding a possible settlement and peace?"

"What?! What did you… He agreed?" you ask him, shocked and annoyed that, after dropping such a bomb on you, he doesn't even dare look you in the eyes.

"Yes. As a sign of good will, we exchanged prisoners. I gave him back the Grishas he wanted, except for Genya, of course; it took the three of us a very long time to clear her name and guilt about killing our father. It would be too suspicious if we let her go so... easily." he nodded towards Alina, who was giving you a desperate look and asking for help. She was on the other side of the room with Vasily, who desperately tried to... get closer to her. "Sorry, I have to play hero. I just wanted to let you know that he agreed. He's coming tomorrow, right after the funeral." he says, and he approaches Alina to save her from the company of your brother and the nobility... and in the process, he saves himself from your wrath.

You shift your gaze from him to your hands and nervously start picking at your nails. You haven't seen HIM since you left Ravka to marry the Prince of Shu Han. When he treated you so vilely, putting the Sun Summoner on his pedestal, he forgot about you.

And you promised yourself a long time ago that you wouldn't let anyone neglect, humiliate, or disregard you. Especially to someone who isn't worth it. Who chose to ignore you when he meant the world to you.

That's why you decided to do the same as him and slightly modify your plans. Unfortunately, your husband turned out to be an idiot who did not meet your expectations and would only interfere with your grand plan. It's fortunate that he died.

"My princess." Genya's voice breaks you out of your thoughts. You shift your gaze to the woman in the red kefta. "Can I ask you for a minute of your time?"

"Of course." you say, leaving the room with the redhead. "Any news from David?" you ask as the two of you walk down the hall.

The nobles who pass you throw unfavourable glances at Grisha next to you, but you don't pay them any attention, or if you do, you give them a look that makes them look away from you.

"It's as if… he wrote that they were leaving their hideout and heading towards the palace." she speaks so quietly that only you can hear her.

Many things have changed since the Darkling's small, and fortunately unsuccessful, show of strength. The Grisha divided; most of them followed their general, wanting to finally gain some rights for themselves, and some of them stayed on the side of Alina and the crown.

So you had to return to the country quite quickly and strengthen the contacts with your spies. Your late husband's family was quite reluctant to let you go. Especially his younger brother, who was the only heir to the crown after his death... you could say that you and Niklaus started getting along much better after your husband's death.

Genya was a new addition. You had a pretty close relationship even before hell broke out in Ravka. You trusted her... within reason. And you were grateful to fate that she didn't join Alina. You didn't like the Sun Summoner... and it's very possible that private grudges played a large part in your dislike of her.

"How many of them?" you ask as you enter your office. The guards give you a curt bow and close the door behind you.

"Not enough for him to think about any plans of attack. But you can never be sure. I heard he acquired a new skill. He creates monsters from shadows. The nichevo'ya or something like that."

"He must be stupid to attack the palace now. We'll deal with his new skills later. For now, we need to locate Baghra. Where is she being held? Is she being held at all, and if not, where is she hiding? This old hag is the key to all of this. We can't do anything without her; we know as much as five-year-olds about the fold, amplifiers, and merzost." you say, flipping through the pages on your desk.

"Alina and Mal are working on locating another amplifier. They're scheduled to leave soon."

"Impossible. They're not going anywhere. I will not risk the lives of our only Sun Summoner and Compass to Morozova's amplifiers. The Darkling is heading this way; his men and spies may be anywhere, and recently, the number of Fjerdan provocations on our border has tripled."

"They won't stay locked up here."

"I am aware of this. But they won't move from here in the next two weeks. Our priority is peace with either the Darkling or the Fjerdan. We cannot wage two wars at once—civil and with another country. It's best if there's none, but I guess it is not possible. We have shed too much blood in the fold itself; we need to end this centuries-old conflict and not escalate it, because Ravka won't take any longer what is happening here."

"About that… I doubt that General… Darkling will be willing to compromise." you sigh, knowing full well that she could probably be right.

"Then we'll have to remove him from the picture." you say slowly, wondering if you were really ready for this.

"You mean..."

"I do not know yet." you interrupt her, not quite sure what you're going to do. And even if you knew, you had no intention of revealing such plans to anyone. "It depends on what the situation requires of us. Alina is too young to be a general. She may be a symbol of hope and a new, better future, but she is not fit to lead an entire army. And the Darkling… is unpredictable and out of any control."

"You miss him, don't you?" her question slightly catches you off guard.

You tried your hardest not to think... about him. Or what could have been if things between you went differently. You simply couldn't afford it. You had to be strong for Ravka, your subjects, and your brothers. And thinking about Aleksander certainly wouldn't make your situation any better.

"I… I think I miss the idea of him that I created in my mind. I miss the man I thought I knew. But in the end, he turned out to be like… just like anyone else."

"Like all powerful men." she sums up your statement, staring at the window behind you.

"Exactly." you nod, thinking about what she must have gone through under your father. That's why, whoever would take the throne, you promised yourself that you would make sure that there would be a whole new era for Ravka. "Genya." you call after her before she leaves your office.

"Yes, my princess?"

"Make sure you make time for David. After this hell… you two deserve the best." you give her a small smile before sending her away. You sigh, rubbing your hand over your forehead. There were so many things to plan and very little time.

But you can't help but think about Aleksander. There were rumours that the fold had destroyed it. That he had become crazy, ruthless, and devoid of any empathy or conscience.

Your hands involuntarily move to the cabinet and open it. You take the bracelet he gave you into your hands. Now you know that it had a special, rare piece of metal in it that allowed Durast to locate you from miles away—an ability Darkling must have used many times in the past. You made sure it was deleted, but... sentiment didn't let you throw it away. You don't know why. Or at least you don't want to admit to yourself this little weakness from the past.

"Why do you want to rule Ravka?" you frown at his question. You open your eyes and turn to the side to look at his face.

You took a little trip outside the palace. You were lying in a clearing in the forest on a picnic blanket. Your head was resting on Aleksander's stomach. One of his hands was lazily running through your hair, and the other was playing with your own hand.

"Why not? I would look nice on stamps and coins." you laugh carelessly, playing with his fingers.

"Answer the question." he says seriously, sitting up. Your head rests on his lap as he leans over you and looks at you with those piercing eyes of his, analysing your every little reaction.

"I don't want Ravka to look like it does now. Vasily is... like our father, conservative, without any new ideas, wanting to continue repeating established patterns. And Nikolai... is too controversial. He has revolutionary views, and the rule of both will end in a civil war. I don't want us to shed any more blood. Grisha and Ravkan... we are one. We are the same. Only you live a little longer and have additional benefits from your powers, but... it doesn't change the fact that we are born and die the same way. We believe in the same thing, and we want the same thing."

"Which is?" he asks, whispering, his dark eyes trained on you the entire time.

"Peace." you say, leaning back into him and closing your eyes. Sunlight filters through the treetops, illuminating your face. You sigh, wrapped in the warmth of your beloved Aleksander's arms and his scent. "Love." you add, opening your eyes and giving him a small, uncertain smile.

"You want to be loved?" he asks, disbelieving that someone like you, the daughter of the Lantsov family, could only want something so... simple. You always talked about taking power with ambition and fire in your eyes. He never thought that you didn't want it out of pure greed, but simply out of a desire to make Ravka better. Just like him.

"Everyone wants it. Even you, my mighty and scary shadow summoner." you snap him out of his thoughts by lifting your hand and caressing his bearded cheek. "And trust me when I say that I can give you all of the love of this world that you need."

"You don't know everything about me." he denies, knowing full well that you would run away from him, terrified, and that all your love for him would evaporate the moment you found out he was the Black Heret.

"You don't know everything about me either, sweetheart. I see your darkness. I see your struggles. You won't scare me away. You cannot. No amount of your shadows and the darkness of the past will do that." you promise, and he looks at you in shock. You push yourself up on your elbows and kiss him sweetly and lazily.

You act as if you have all the time in the world, and the only thing that matters is the two of you. And he allows himself to lose himself for a moment in this little fantasy you created with him in a forgotten clearing near the fountain dedicated to the Starless Saint.

"Eya fyela chi, moya tsarevna. For as long as I breathe. We shall rule together. Side by side." he whispers against your lips, and he's no longer sure who he's trying to fool. You or himself.

"I want nothing more, Aleksander." you reply, straddling him and cupping his neck as you pull him in for another kiss.

And he realises a very sad and bitter truth. That never before, in anyone else's arms, under anyone else's touches, kisses, and whispers of love and adoration, had he felt so happy and at peace as he did with you.

"Wow. Did Genya help you?" you snort at your brother's reaction as you enter the council room.

"What? Can't I dress nicely myself?" you mock him gently, laughing. You could slightly improve your appearance with the help of your favourite Grisha. After all, you had to show yourself to your ex somehow. And you were going to make sure the bastard would squirm, upset and mad that he wasn't with you anymore.

"Yes, you can, but you usually don't. Is this for a certain dark rebel general?" he teases with you, at which you roll your eyes.

"NO. And I wish you wouldn't insinuate such things. I'm not saying you're dressing up for the Sun Summoner or for that squaller of hers who's arguing with her all the time. Exactly! Who are you ultimately in love with? I haven't been able to keep up with the updates lately. You know. Saving my country from the fire of rebellion, and so on."

"You know what... I was going to wait here with you to spare you a one-on-one confrontation with our very peaceful and cute Darkling... BUT I remembered that Alina was waiting for me. Will you entertain your ex until we get here? Thanks, sister." he winks at you, smiling when he sees your expression fall, and he heads towards the exit, humming.

"Son of a bitch." you mutter under your breath as he walks past you.

"Yes, indeed!" he replies with an even bigger smile. You can only laugh and shake your head at him as he leaves you alone in the room.

You pace around the room, nervously picking at the bracelet on your wrist.

This was supposed to be the first time you would see him since you left for Shu Han and married their prince there. You heard that he changed after the events in the fold. That he went crazy about Alina and became obsessed with HIS Sun Summoner. His lust for power and greed only increased his dark madness, which made even his most trusted Grisha fear.

You heard rumours that he always had shadow monsters by his side and that he received a souvenir from his volcras in the form of black scars marring his face. Though you're not sure if anything can disfigure him.

Somehow, you feel him approaching. Before he touches the door handle, you know he's behind it. You lean against the table with Ravka's map on it and wait. Your heart beats rapidly as the silence of the room is broken by the sound of the door opening.

He doesn't come in right away. He freezes the moment he sees you. You take in his new appearance carefully, less surprised to see him than he is to see you. He has a few black scars on his face, his complexion is sallower, and his eyes are cloudy, probably from lack of sleep.

"Kirigan." you say, as he still doesn't make any moves towards you. The sound of your voice wakes him from his trance. He closes the door behind him, letting in a single shadow creature that follows silently behind him. You only stare at it for a moment before your gaze returns to his dark irises, which have been staring at you continuously since he opened the door.

"Princess." he watches you carefully, as if looking for any flaw—the slightest shake in your stoic and unflappable demeanour. Something that would prove to him that you're not better off without him. "I've heard about your husband's death. My sincere condolences." he says it in the most insincere tone you've ever heard.

"Thank you. It is very hard. He was such a good husband. Possibly the best I could come across." you say, smiling sadly, which only angers him more.

You see him press his lips into a thin line. His dark eyes never leave you, as he takes in every new detail in your appearance. His shadow monsters stand obediently behind him.

"Is this necessary?" you ask, nodding towards the shadow creature.

"Does it scare you? My Nichevo'ya are always with me." he says, as if to challenge you.

"No. Not at all. But now I don't wonder why no one else is besides it." your snide remark clearly hurts his pride. He takes a breath to respond, but the door opens again, and this time Alina and Nikolai join you.

"Aleksander." Sun Summoner greets him, and you roll your eyes. Of course he would tell her his real name. After all, it was his solnishka.

"Alina." he nods at her, taking his eyes off you. Because how could you compare to his sunshine?

"Nikolai. Welcome everyone. I guess we can start." Nikolai interjects jokingly, trying to break the obvious tension in the room. And by the way the three of you look at each other, you already know that this isn't going to be an easy negotiation at all.

"Egs." The man next to you hands you what you want. "Flour." He pours it in for you, which you let him do, considering that there wasn't a single bag in the Little Palace's kitchen and you were both too lazy to look for a bowl to measure it out with. Besides, you know it would end just like last time—a big war that the servants would have to clean up later. "Sugar." He hands you a clay jar, and you taste some of it before pouring it into the dough. You wince when you taste the salt, at which he laughs loudly. "Aleksander! What did I tell you last time?! I'm making you a birthday cake; you could at least not try to sabotage me." You roll your eyes at him and reach for the sugar yourself.

"I told you it wasn't necessary. There are other activities we could engage in." He murmurs against your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"If you had told me earlier, and not after the amazing sex, calling it the best birthday present you ever received, then we could. Now take your hands off me and help me mix the dough."

"But it's my birthday… shouldn't I be the one giving you orders?" He asks, giving you puppy-dog eyes. You break your facade and lean in, kissing him sweetly, only to pull away from him the moment his hands touch the hem of one his shirts he gave you to wear.

"Maybe next year. Now you better figure out how we can fit 200 candles in here for you." You pat his chest and try not to bite your lip as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and starts mixing the dough. You watch him uninhibitedly, though, and the way the muscles in his arms move.

"Actually, a little more."

"How many?" You ask curiously, taking a sip of wine from his glass since yours is long gone.

"531." You choke on your alcohol, and he laughs, wiping the rest of the cake off his hands and patting you gently on the back.

"Saints, I'm sleeping with a fossil."

"Just half an hour ago, you were doing it very enthusiastically, I must say."He whispers seductively, pressing a kiss on your temple as you transfer the dough to the baking tin.

"Oh, shut up." you say, trying to resist him somehow, but you both know how it will end soon. "Because someone will come in here and see us."

With a wave of his hand, a thick layer of shadows appears around the door. The palace kitchen is immersed in a gentle darkness; the only source of light is the fire from the stove where the cake is baked and the window.

"We have a while before it's ready... can I play with my present again?" he asks, picking you up and sitting on the table, getting between your legs.

"Do not say that. It's creepy." you say, pushing his hands away from the ties of the shirt you're wearing. He's not at all put off and instead attacks your neck with kisses.

"It's my birthday; you told me I could do anything with you, moya tsarevna." He reminds you, biting lightly on the skin of your neck and making you moan.

You tangle your hands in his hair and push him away from you. The disgruntled frown on his face reminds you of the face of a grumpy child, but you can't laugh now since you're trying to regain control of yourself.

"Within reason... so don't think you can seduce me with your old Ravkan, touch, or kisses. We are not doing that here." you state firmly, but he doesn't give up.

"But lapushka, you are the only dessert I want, milaya. Moi sol ye tselai. Zyoma maya olya. Eya chela (I'm hungry) for you. Eya fyela chi, don't you love me too, moya koroleva?" He whispers against your skin as he places kisses all over your face, his beard tickling you again, making you go completely soft for him the moment his lips capture yours in a hot, deep kiss that takes your breath away.

And neither of you are surprised that you almost set the kitchen of the Little Palace on fire, completely forgetting about the cake.

"I want my summoner back." you huff at his absurd demand, at which he frowns at you furiously.

"You have no right to her."

"She had trained under my and Baghr's gaze. She owes me. Her service will be enough payment."

"She is the bride of Ravka and the fiancée of one of my brothers." you continue firmly, not allowing anyone else to speak up and ignoring Alina's annoyed look at you.

"One of them?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?" you growl in anger. He shifts in his seat; the strange creature is hovering next to him like a faithful dog, reacting to his every slightest movement. The son of a bitch tried to intimidate you.

"Not at all. It's good to know who I should get out of my way."

"If you mean what I think..." you start threateningly, completely ignoring his shadow monster.

"It would be very hard for her to be the bride of Ravka without a groom." he finishes his thought, smirking ominously at you when he sees your furious reaction.

"Oh, not at all. I would also be able to marry her." you tell him, and he glares at you madly. You hear this strange thing growling at his side. Apparently, it must have felt and shared his emotions.

"While being already mine? I doubt so."

"I belong to no one, and she belongs to Ravka!" you shout, standing up and slamming your hand on the table.

"She belongs to Grisha!" he stands up as well, banging his fist on the table. You both lean over the table on opposite sides, looking at each other hatefully. Shadows gather around him, behind his back.

"She is a person! And can speak out for herself. Thank you two very much. You know it, right? Saints, you two are perfect for each other." Nikolai interrupts the two of you before you two start a fight. He rubs his eyes with his hand and looks at the clock. "Gene… ekhem… Lord… um… Mister Kirigan. I think it would be better for all of us if we went to sleep. You and your people had a long way here; I'm sure you would use some sleep and the comfort of a bath." you'd laugh at your brother's awkwardness if your ex didn't get on your nerves like a damn master.

The Darkling sighs, nodding. He stands up, brushing invisible dust from his all-black kefta.

"I guess my chambers are still where they were?" he asks, heading towards the door, and you just can't help but stab him in the back at goodnight.

"You are not allowed to walk inside the Little Palace." you say stoically. Aleksander stops. Nikolai and Alina look at you as if you were a madwoman, suicidal.

"What?" he asks, turning towards you to glare daggers at you.

"That's not your property. You don't choose where you sleep."

"I built a Little Palace with my own hands when you were not even planning to come to this world!"

"And yet I am the one who has any rights to it. Besides, if you want to play that card, most of the population on this planet wasn't even planning to come to the world, and yet you are not going around and claiming things that don't belong to you. It also didn't stop you from seducing someone much younger than you."

"You… you are walking on very thin ice, princess." he growls at you furiously, getting so close that you're only a few centimetres apart. From this distance, you can get a good look at the black, raw scars on his face.

"I am not afraid." you reply firmly, looking at him defiantly and tilting your chin up. You both breathe heavily. Rage is boiling within you two; you both know it's not just caused by the disagreements over Ravka and Grisha, but something far more personal...

"You should be." he whispers. Your breaths practically mingle...

"If you say: make me, I will throw out my dinner. And I would rather not." you roll your eyes at your brother.

You throw one last hateful glare at Aleksander and walk to the exit. You can't stop yourself from hitting him in his arms with your own. He growled something under his breath, mad, but you don't care to listen.

You leave the room confident that you've won this little battle between the two of you. Little did you know that the real one wouldn't be fought between you until late at night.

"A chauvinistic imbecile who thinks that just because he was born first and has a penis between his legs, he has the right to behave like a future king. Even his stupid horses are smarter than him."

"Don't insult the horses, darling." Aleksander mutters over his papers, looking through the latest reports from under the fold.

He was about to leave for Kirbirsk to supervise the crossing of a new type of boat to the other side of the wall of shadows. You didn't like the prospect of being away from him for such a long time. Especially when your oldest (and probably stupidest) brother tried to convince your parents to marry you to the prince of Shu Han.

"Doesn't it bother you? Seriously? What if he succeeds and you will never see me again?" You ask furiously, crossing your arms and looking at him.

"No way, you're too much of a nuisance for me to get rid of you so easily." He replies jokingly. However, when he finally looks up at you and sees your serious, mad attitude, he throws the papers on the desk and stands up. He walks over to you and cups your cheek with his hand tenderly, which you reluctantly allow, still furious with him. "Even if something like that happens, which I highly doubt, given your manipulative skills, connections, and a large, beautiful mind that many men should fear, I will come for you. Always. Even if I have to fight the volcras, I will always come back for you." He says, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "You are mine, moya tsarevna. I'm not sharing you with anyone. Especially some pompous, high-born idiot who haunts Girsha like a haunting dog."

'But how long will it last? How long will you be feeling like this? I will die. Much faster than you. I am like a small ink stain in your long-lived book of life." you say, fully aware that you two are a lost cause.

But he doesn't let you think about it for long. He latches onto your lips hungrily, redirecting your thoughts to him and this moment between you. He pins you to the war table and effectively takes over your every little cell as his tongue tangles with yours. He moans softly as you tangle your hands in his hair. He somehow manages to distance himself from you. He rests his forehead against yours, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

"You are not a stain. You are my light. Something I have wanted for centuries but could never experience. You saw me... all of me. And you never turned away. You never judged me for who I was or what I did. And I will do everything. Everything in my power to make sure you shine for me as long as possible, moya lapushka."

"So you won't replace me? For someone else? More powerful? Equal to you? You won't change us from lovers to strangers?" you ask as he places small kisses on your cheeks, jaw, neck, and collarbone.

"Never." he whispers against your lips before kissing you again, his fingers finding effortlessly their way to the buttons of your dress, stroking and kissing every little bit of your skin he exposes as a promise.

Which he breaks a few weeks later when he meets Sun Summoner.

You know you shouldn't fall asleep in his chambers when he's back in Os Alta, but you've been doing it since you returned to Ravka.

After your first sleepless night in your chambers, you snuck into the Little Palace and into his chambers. And you hated yourself for how pathetic you were when you fell asleep the moment you wrapped yourself in his black blanket.

At first, you were tormented by memories of the time you spent with him, but as the days and weeks passed, memories of him only haunted you in your dreams. And now it was mostly habit that kept you in the general's chambers. After all, you spent a lot of time here. In fact, most of your happy memories. What a pity that they were just a facade, a web of lies that Aleksander had been weaving since the beginning of your relationship.

You shiver as a sudden chill passes through you. You reluctantly get out of bed and wrap yourself in a blanket. You walk over to the window, making sure it's closed, and close the curtains, plunging the room into complete darkness.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around you, pulling you into a broad chest. Before you can scream, a hand covers your mouth, and when you see the familiar black ring on one of the man's fingers, you go into a fit of pure fury.

You struggle against his grip, screaming into his hand, trying to bite it somehow. The blanket falls off of you, causing his arm to press you tighter against his body. You heat up as you feel yourself perfectly fitting against his body, involuntarily remembering... much more pleasant situations when he pressed you against him.

"Stop it. You'll only get tired. And I want to talk to you like a civilised person, so calm down." He whispers in your ear. His bearded cheek brushes against yours as he moves his hand from your mouth to your neck, squeezing gently as a reminder that if you try anything, he's ready to punish you.

"Calm the fuck down yourself. Since when does a civilised man sneak into a woman's bedroom to talk to her?"

"This isn't your bedroom."

"And this is not your palace." you reply teasingly, and by the way he tightens his grip on you, you know he has a scowl on his face. You smile, pleased that you're able to get under his skin.

"This is debatable. Will you stay still and listen to me, or do I have to hold you like that? Not that I mind, but I'd rather look at your face."

"And I feel disgusted every time I look at you, so I'd rather stay like this."

Not a second passes after you finish your sentence when he turns you around in his arms and pushes you against the large window behind you. You're glad you managed to close the curtains earlier; otherwise, you would have been pressed against the cold glass instead of the soft, velvety fabric by the angry Black Heretic.

And you wonder if you're losing your mind or if you've gained courage if you don't feel an ounce of fear as his shadow monsters circle around you. You can't quite recall how he called them since his dark eyes stared at you with an intense fire, which made you speechless for a while.

"You really have nothing else to tell me?" He asks calmly this time, running his thumb over the base of your neck. As if he were playing with his prey.

However, subconsciously, you know that he won't hurt you. If not for the sake of his feelings towards you, then at least because he's not stupid enough to kill Ravka's princess while he's negotiating... which you actually have no idea why he agreed to.

"Like what?" You finally ask, breaking the silence that had fallen between you. His face falls, you see a hint of disappointment in his eyes, and your eyes involuntarily land on the scars on his forehead, cheek, and nose. And suddenly, you feel a huge need to run your finger over them.

"I don't know... maybe why did you run away? You left and got married to Shu Han dog without saying me anything!"

"I didn't want to interrupt your fun with Alina. Honestly, what did you expect after you found yourself another woman? That I'll stay in some fucking threesome with you and your Sun Summoner?! You're not that good in bed, sweetheart." You mock him and the fact that he had the nerve to call you out on what you did. As if he wasn't the first to break the promises you made to each other in the privacy of his chambers. You were supposed to be partners in crime. It's not your fault that he decided to turn you into strangers.

"You know damn well that she was only a means to an end! The issue here is that you left me! You of all people turned away from me and ran away as if I meant nothing to you!" He shouts madly, slamming his hand on the window behind you in anger. You're surprised it didn't break into pieces under the pressure of his strength.

"Is that why you stuck your tongue in her mouth?! Because she was just a means to an end—a weapon you wanted to use? Besides, when were you going to tell me about widening the fold?!"

"That wasn't a reason for you to run away to another fucking country and marry anyone only to spite me!"

"But it was enough for you to kill him?!" You further question his actions, revealing to him that you know full well on whose orders the poison was poured into your husband's chalice... or that the black scars on his body were not caused by an infection.

"And how else could you be mine again?! Also, don't pretend that you have any morals. We both know that you didn't particularly mourn his death. I had to somehow fix the mistakes you made because of your bratty attitude."

"If you would just be honest with me from the beginning, you fucking distrustful son of a bitch, then there would be nothing to fix!”

"Do you want me to be honest?" He growls furiously, leaning towards you, your noses practically brushing against each other as he keeps his gaze on your eyes. "There wasn't a single damned second that I didn't think about you. Not a single dream without you, tormenting me because I can't have you. Do you know what I was thinking about in the fold when I thought I was going to die? About you. All I could think about was the time we spent together, when I had you in my arms. I do not want anyone else. Alina or any other fucking Sun Summoner. I don't want power; I can't do anything without you by my side anyway. So don't stand here and blame me for ruining our relationship when I love you with all the shattered heart I have left."

"So don't give me reasons to leave." You whisper, tired from all this arguing, as he reinforces your belief that you both suffered without each other and that you got under each other's skin so deeply that it was impossible to stop thinking about each other.

You hold back the tears you promised yourself not to shed because of him. He cups your cheek tenderly in his hand and rests his forehead against yours as you breathe out shakily, trying to maintain your facade in front of him.

"Maybe you should stop running away every time you have doubts about me? Why can't you have some faith in me?" He asks in a shaky voice, making you open your eyes to meet his pleading gaze. It's the first time in your life you've seen him so... defenseless. Open. Vulnerable.

"I have no doubt about you, Aleksander. I know you are capable of anything. That nothing can stand in your way if you really set your mind to it, not even Alina or Baghra. I don't care about Alina, what you wanted to do with her, or if your plans were moral or not. The problem is that you lied to me. You went behind my back."

"And look where it got me. Do you think I'll do it again?" He asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss on your forehead.

He rests his lips against your forehead for a while, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling your scent as you both try your best to have a proper conversation and don't melt in each other's arms.

"I don't now. You gave me many reasons not to trust you. Alina's case, destroying the fold, Baghra being your mother. I guess the list goes on and on."

"The last one had reasonable reasons." he says, pulling away from you to look into your eyes.

You can't help but burst out laughing. He smiles and cups your cheek in his hand. The healed scar from the amplifier attracts your attention.

"You removed it. Why? That was your only connection to Alina and her power." You ask confused, realising that the strange connection between them didn't disappear because Alina became stronger but because he completely removed the amplifier from his system.

"The only connection I want to have is with you." He says confidently, taking your hands in his. "Besides... after using Merzost, I became... weaker. Holding this amplifier would cause infection, poison my blood, and ultimately kill me."

"Are you… dying? After the second use of Merzost?"

"Don't worry, moya tsarevna. I have a long enough life ahead of me with you." He says, caressing your cheek. "And after discovering some entries from my grandfather's diary, I know how to extend it for you."

"What if I don't want it? If I don't want you anymore?"

"Then I have nothing to lose. I will do anything to bring Grisha to the throne, to their place above everyone else in this damn country. And I'll make sure you stay by my side. Willingly or not. You always belonged to me. You were supposed to rule with me, side by side. And with the time I will provide you, I am sure you will find in your heart the love for me again. Although I doubt that any of us could lose it in such a short time."

You shiver at his certainty and his dark gaze. However, it is not a thrill of fear but of excitement... and you are not surprised that this was his plan B. If you were him, you would do the same.

You signed a pact with him on the first night you spent together. There was no turning back from then on. You were supposed to be together. As absurd as it may sound. Princess of Ravka and the Black Heretic. Otkazat'sya and Grisha. Monsters on Ravka's throne. But only you would be able to restore balance without causing a civil war.

You might not trust each other, be suspicious of each other, or disagree with the decisions you made, but you knew that you both had Ravka's best interests in mind. No matter who else gets hurt, that was how the word worked: you were either a martyred saint or a selfish sinner. And you weren't going to suffer for the sake of anything else but your country. And Aleksander was fed up with his people suffering for who they were, simply for being.

Together, you could do great things.

"Tomorrow is the reading of my damned father's will. His last will is about to include who he wanted on the throne. We have enough time to…"

"I've already taken care of it. You will be a beautiful, wise and cruel tsaritsa." He cuts you off before you can finish your thought, and you smile. One mind. You've always acted like this... but only if you didn't hide anything from each other.

"I will have competition, with such a tsar at my side." you say, and finally allow yourself to lean in and kiss him. His mouth is a little chapped, but you don't mind when all you can focus on is the warmth that engulfs you in his arms again and the pleasant tingling that spreads from your lips throughout your body as he groans in pleasure. You pull away from him just as he wants to deepen the kiss. You tease him a little, and you reach out to caress the black scars on his face with your fingertips. "If you look at Alina even once, I will gouge out both of your eyes and make sure your little sun never shines again." You whisper, placing small kisses where the scars are most visible.

He doesn't freeze; he doesn't tense up. He just moans quietly at the touch of your lips in the places he hates the most and which you seem to treat with fascination and tenderness.

You were as jealous of him as he was of you. You both would kill anyone who dared to steal the other from you. And you both know it's not the worst thing you are able to do for each other.

"Don't worry… I'll only be able to see you. And how beautiful and breath-taking you will look in the crown and my black colours."

"Black?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him and pulling away slightly.

"Yes. You're mine. As well as I am yours." he says, picking you up as he walks to your bed.

"I won't wear a kefta. This damn thing is hard to take off," you tell him immediately, at which he laughs, unbuttoning his own.

"We'll see." he replies to you with a mischievous smirk and leans over you, kissing you again.

And later that night, as you lie curled in each other's arms and discuss the plans you have for Ravka in whispers, you know you wouldn't have it any other way. Even if you face more fights and doubts with him. And there is no doubt that you would try to manipulate each other to get what you want—to try and make the other feel guilty just to bring your own plan to life—but neither of you wanted to be left on top of the world utterly alone.

It was too late for you to be strangers to each other again. And since neither of you cared about your reputation, your morals, or who you would become in the eyes of the world, you might as well make them fear you. You will be the most terrifying pair of lovers in history.

And as he fell asleep, you started playing with the ball of light with a small smile on your face, squeezing his hand as an amplifier you needed to strengthen the connection you managed to make with Alina that no one knew about. Well... besides you, only the Durast, who made an engagement ring for the Sun Summoner, knew that you were trying to gain from her the power you needed to be an equal for the sleeping Shadow Summoner wrapped around you.

You would tell him... in time.

First, you had to learn how to use your new powers and make sure the connection between you and Alina would last. However, this required much more drastic measures than putting a collar around her neck or a small ring on her finger.

You press a kiss on his chest and rest your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him. You fall asleep in his arms, wondering how you'll convince him to give you some of his mother's bones... or his own.

After all, Morozova's amplifiers were the strongest.

You will soon see this for yourself when, right after your coronation and marriage, you find out that you were unconsciously carrying one under your heart after this night.

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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

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Jungkook/platonic!OT7

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Part 1: Rain]

There's something strange about Jungkook.

Main tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Werewolf!Bangtan, strangers/enemies to lovers, romantic Jungkook x reader, Platonic bangtan x reader, eventual smut, mentions of past emotional/psychological manipulation, hurt and comfort, fluff!, some wariness from MCs side

Length: x Words (will be added later)

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

"Here-" Jungkook offers, having taken off his zip hoodie for you to hold over your head. "-so you don't get wet." He smiles, and you take it after a moment of contemplation.

It's only after, when you walk after him through the woods, that you notice the full, partially colored tattoos covering almost every inch of skin of his arm, probably even up his shoulder- some ink found on the back of his hand, too. "Careful!" He suddenly says, reaching out to hold you- just in time, because during your blatant staring at his exposed skin, you'd failed to notice the large tree root sticking out from the ground. "You okay?" He asks, and you're stuck in place for a second-

Oddly mesmerized by his golden eyes looking at you from such little distance.

But it doesn't take long for you to snap out of it and nod, before you step over the root, quietly urging him with another nod to continue walking- something he does, but not without looking at you with something almost like suspicion. The rain isn't letting up- rather intensifying now, as he picks up his steps to get through the woods at a faster pace, your hand subconsciously reaching out to grab onto the back of his shirt to keep up- something he notices, as he smiles and reaches out his hand for you to hold. "We're almost there, promise." He tells you, and you nod, trusting him-

and he stays true to his word.

Because not even a few minutes later, there's an actual path now- not man-made, but trampled down from generations of animals and people alike it looks like taking the same route. It leads you both to a more open space, wooden cabins in varying sizes built long ago from the visuals of them, lights turned on in the largest of them. A door opens- multiple people are seen, one waving, before more seem to try and get a glimpse of who Jungkook is bringing along.

"They're really nice. Some of them can be a bit intimidating, but I promise you they're completely harmless." Jungkook reassures you as he notices the way you slow down now, and you nod, a drop of water falling from your nose. You've got no idea where you are at this point, so you can't do much other than trust him, for now.

Even though you're incredibly nervous at the prospect of being in the same house as an entire pack of wolves.

Someone seems to break up the people squeezing together to catch a glimpse of you, leaving only two in front of the house, door now closed. "Hello." One of them says- friendly, but not inviting. "Jungkook?" He asks, and the wolf next to you sends you a reassuring smile, before he talks, and explains to who you assume must be his packleader.

"I didn't know you were back already." Jungkook says, hugging him in a greeting for a second, before he steps back to stand next to you again, telling the young man your name. "She was just kind of.. having a picnic near the entrance path when it started pouring. And she's here without a ride or anything, so I offered her to stay until it clears up maybe." He explains.

"My name's Namjoon. I'm the packleader here- have you told your pack yet that you'll be here?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"I'm human- I don't have a pack, and my friends know I'm up here so if anything happens I can ask them to pick me up." You shrug, trying to appear relaxed- even if you're straight up trying to lie since you don't actually have.. well, friends. Though you're sure Namjoon must already notice that you're just putting up a front.

"I see. Alright then." He says, before he turns around, opening the door. "You guys can stop eavesdropping now, by the way." He scolds his packmembers inside, who all, except for one, have been actively listening in on the conversation.

"Sorry.." a tall guy with broad shoulders laughs softly, opening the door a bit wider. "We were just curious. Come inside you two, you must be freezing!" He ushers you both in, and you follow with a bit of hesitance, trying to distract yourself with rather examining the interior of the large cabin. Jungkook takes a moment to talk to his pack, probably to catch up with his leader and to tell the rest that you're.. not too fond of werewolf people.

All while you're in the bathroom, towel drying the ends of your hair while contemplating your life choices.

That's a whole pack of wolves- seven people currently present, and god knows how many more members they have! If they wanted, they could literally just cook you for dinner tonight, and no one would even really notice. Since you work as an independent person, you don't technically have an employer, and like mentioned, you only really have one somewhat friend who you text once in a blue moon.

No one would miss you if these guys were to just.. murder you. Or do even worse.

"Hey- you okay?" Jungkook's voice calls out through the closed door, a knock before that announcing his presence.

"Y-yeah, I'm done." You say, opening the bathroom door to reveal the young wolfboy who's looking at you with his golden eyes filled with worry. And he's not the only one-

most of his other packmates somewhat look into your direction with varying degrees of the same emotion. "Let's stop staring at her, maybe then she'll feel a little less like prey." the only one who's not currently looking at you says, making most of the other's avert their eyes caught red-handed.

"I'm sorry, if you'd like I'll show you my den- I mean, house! You can stay there by yourself if that's a little less threatening to you." Jungkook offers, and you shrug, before nodding.

Right now, you feel way too crowded. Like they're circling you, waiting for a chance to strike.

You both run a little from the main house to another, smaller one- a small cabin, cozy and a little chaotic inside. "Sorry- I didn't clean up." He laughs a but bashfully, turning on the lights before he swiftly throws an empty paper bowl from the small table in front of his kitchenette into the bin nearby.

"Its fine." You reassure him, feeling a bit better in here. "I'm.. is it really fine if I stay here?" You worry, and he nods.

"Its totally fine. You can even sleep here if it doesn't let up- which it won't, to be honest." He says.

"How do you know?" You wonder.

"Senses. Perks of the wolfblood I guess." He offers kindly, walking over to put a blanket on the couch. "I'll just make you a place to crash if you want, I promise I'll sleep at the packhouse so I won't bother you-"

"No-!" You rush out, actually a bit unintentional, as you swallow, before you collect your words properly. "I- could you maybe stay? I don't.. sleep well alone.. during storms." You mumble. "I know it's stupid but-"

"Its not." Jungkook promises, a warm glimmer in his eyes like a warm furnace during a cold winter day. "Seokjin- one of my packmates, the tall one with the broad shoulders who gave you the towel-" he says, occupying himself with putting a pillow on one side of the couch, "-he's similar. He needs the pack together during storms or he can't sleep well. Something to do with instincts." He shrugs, walking onto an open room with a bed inside, where he steals another pillow and a thick blanket to put on the bed.

"Oh." You say. "Then you should sleep with them-" you start, but Jungkook laughs.

"Nah, he'll be fine. He's treating me too much like a pup anyways!" He jokes, finishing up the couch before he moves the small coffee table further away for space. "There you go. Oh, you can charge your phone here too- let me get you a cable for that-" he perks up, before he moves into his bedroom to search for one.

Something feels... off.

You're no longer very worried about things going south for you, the small cabin offering you a warm place to stay- and in a way, his company is oddly soothing. He's kind, clearly not out for blood, and you also feel pretty sleepy, as the exhaustion from the last week catches up with you.

You've never felt so.. tired, but in a good way. As if your body is finally preparing to rest and restart.

"There. You can plug it in over there- just not on the left, that ones kind of wonky. I need to fix that up soon." He chuckles a bit shyly, and you nod, plugging your phone in near the small TV.

"Did you make this.. yourself? Or..?" You wonder, as you look at your phone starting.

"Yeah. Most of us built our homes ourself. It's like a coming-of-age thing almost." He says, pride swelling up in his chest at your next words.

"I like it. It's very.. warm. Welcoming." You nod, looking at him, who's staring back at you with round cheeks and even rounder eyes.

"Thank you!" He grins, slightly sharpened canines reminding you of what he is, down the line, and past his soft words and gentle looks.

But it doesn't scare you.

"I'll leave the door open in case you need anything." He offers, as he walks into his bedroom. "Have a good night." He smiles, and you nod, phone in your hand vibrating once to tell you it's started and charging.

"Thanks-" you say, smiling back a little hesitant. "-.. and good night to you too." You offer, before you watch him get ready for bed.

And that night, despite being alone in the woods and in the same home as a wolf-

You sleep soundly, tightly, no dreams haunting your slumber at all.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook x reader

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inferno-0 · 1 month

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Frame

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You just need the shots.

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Sorry for the English.

Titans have always defeated their enemies. For millennia, if not more, they have fought for balance and peace on this planet. They were all strong in their own way. Even those same pests had some potential, but decided to go the other way, with poor results in the process. Victory has always been on the side of good. It had to be. Any way. Especially for creatures like Kaiju, who are truly majestic.

They had their own zest, and maybe even several.

Some people liked them

And some preferred to run far away, the main thing was not to look at them and save their lives. But that's what life is for, to preserve it and make that remnant richer than being eaten or trampled by the Titan. But do the Titans really need to do anything to humans? Their work is done.

There was no enemy and there was no point in doing anything else.

It's just people who are like that. Their size was really poorly chosen by nature and therefore you have to somehow survive and turn on instincts for advancement.

It's no one's fault that half of humanity actively avoids all these Kaiju.

It's just a smart decision of nature, or maybe fate itself, that gave all these Titans the ability.

The ability that people liked, who are not afraid of them and consider them something beautiful and attractive.

Especially you. A simple girl, an ordinary resident in the city,

Just a creature with a destiny to follow.

But this fate was difficult and you didn't know what to do and how to decide.

For some reason, your ego can't get enough of all these shots from the news on TV. You've always wanted something more, and you didn't know what it was. Even photographs that were accidentally photographed by people were kept for themselves. Everything that had to do with the Titans, you put aside for yourself. All the information that kept you afloat was yours.

You were obsessed.

Especially from the moment He arrived.

You've seen this fight and watched it several times. The Lizard fought other Titans unknown to you. You couldn't find an animal that matched these looks, but they all looked mysterious and beautiful in their own way. But there was a bad intention behind this beauty. You have heard and understood that these two Titans were parasites. That is why the one who fell into your soul mercilessly destroyed them. The one you've always liked and the one that sticks in your head to this day.

It's been many years since you've seen it. You didn't know where he was going or what he was doing. But perhaps he, like all animals, slept somewhere and accumulated strength for the next fight.

You've always been following the information about this Titan. Especially when he came back a couple of years later.

You've seen this fierce battle once again. But it's more terrible with the enemy. Their struggle was serious and decided the future fate of the planet. Two alphas and two kings.

But you've always been in favor of the former, and for good reason.

He won again and left again. And you were left sitting in your room and looking at the photos, which were added a few years later. And again. Struggle.

No matter how many years pass, no matter how many times you learn everything in your life. Your brain couldn't get it out of your head. So much time has passed, and you're still into it. Any ordinary person would call you crazy and frivolous, a person with a childish imagination and inspiration in the next book with Dinosaurs.

Or maybe it was.

For these people.

For you, this was the first step to destiny. Yes, it all started with simple reptiles and dinosaurs, and then the Titans, which seductively torment your soul. But you don't mind. You just need to shorten the distance to them.

And to him.

The one that ate up your brain and all the unnecessary thoughts every day.

You couldn't help but think about him. For you, it has become something ordinary.

It's already familiar.

A habit that only gives you a step forward.

And off you went.

The next struggle that was in front of your eyes. The Four Titans. Two by two, and Odin died. You didn't understand how you managed to survive in such a deadly situation. Buildings collapsed step by step, you desperately ran where your feet led. Where my instinct led me. The loud screams of people, the growls coming from somewhere above, made you close your eyes and ears and squeeze into yourself like a child in a corner.

It wasn't like what you saw on TV.

It was scarier.

It was worse.

But for some reason, you didn't run where the rest of the people who were saving themselves were running. You ran to him.

To Godzilla.

Its spikes were visible between the buildings and you took advantage of this by speeding up your run. The closer you were, the scarier it became from the size you gradually notice in front of you. You knew you could die, but you went anyway.

You've been dreaming for so long and couldn't miss this moment.

You don't care if you're going to die.

It's like someone steps on you.

You want and move forward, crawling through broken roofs and structures. Yes, it was difficult, but you walked.

They were practically near you, but not yet completely. They won't see you. Much less will He see.

A couple of meters left. You've already noticed the big ape that was called Kong. You recalled the struggle that took place a few years ago. It was him. The only thing that distinguished him from that image was a large and yellow metal glove, which seemed to increase his strength.

But it doesn't matter, what matters is that the one you admired, or even loved, has also become different. You walked to the last tall building that could withstand such storms and looked up.

Your favorite.

A creature that has sunk into your little heart from the very beginning. That has become something mundane in your head. He was in front of you. The changes that touched him excited your mind even more. His breath was pink, and his spikes became sharper and more curved. The legs have clearly become longer.

So beautiful and so attractive.

You watched in amazement as the Titan shot its beam into the sky, pulling apart the cold clouds, letting the sun into the world. It was perfect. It was so beautiful that we didn't notice how we pulled out the phone for another photo. This picture will be truly sensational. The most beloved in my entire life.

A smile immediately enveloped your face, you slowly picked up your phone and looked across the screen at Godzilla, who was unaware of anything. But he's unlikely to notice.

The finger cautiously approached the mug through which your life would sing again for a few days.

Squinting your eyes, you gasped for air.

"Click"

"Oops" You pursed your lips into a thin line and carefully moved the lens away from you. Okay, that wasn't the plan. It was ridiculous. A failure and a mistake that will probably ruin your life right now.

Reaching for your pocket, you put your phone back in and took a step back.

I don't think the sound reached them because of the difference in size, you just need to quietly step back from this fuss.

Slowly turning your back on the Titans, you took another step away from them. The quieter the step, the stronger the crunch of stones under your feet, which was a problem.

"Everything is fine. All.. Good.." You could barely hold back a sigh.

"Everything is wonderful..."

A huge shadow immediately loomed over you, right over your pathetic body. Your shoulders stiffened. You remembered how you came here without fear, but with a suspicion of death.

And here she comes.

That is, He came.

Warm air enveloped your shoulders. A rhythmic growl followed you, as if interested. You didn't dare turn your head, but you can't run away either.

Two options and two different answers.

How could you not hear this colossus approaching you?

Absurdly.

You swallowed, praying you wouldn't be in any danger. Just like yard dogs, they will smell it and move on. But not everyone does that.

Making a different decision, you jerked away from the Titan, jumping off a collapsed chunk of the building until you stopped again with a furious scream at your back. Out of your fear, another one sounded, but this time another, more rude. And it didn't seem to be aimed at you.

With tension, you turned all the way.

The two Titans growled at each other as if to say something, but it was not yet known what it was. Very strange. But you silently thanked the monkey for not letting you offend, to put it mildly.

You looked at the two kaiju one more time before pulling out your phone again.

Turning on the camera and adjusting the lens, you pointed your gadget at one cute Titan on the left. You didn't notice it right away, but when you caught your eye, you decided to take a picture and capture it as a complement to your passions.

Squinting your eyes and adjusting for an angle, you finally clicked.

"Click"

"Damn" You banged your head on the screen, bumping your forehead right at that button, where there was another click in the direction of the Titan. "What's the matter... "

The three of them stared at you.

The three mighty Titans fell abruptly silent. The one in white was just looking at you curiously, bowing his head slightly while the other two looked at each other. Although Godzilla still had a quiet growl in the direction of Kong, who just turned away with a frown, not wanting to start a fight again.

Now you're in their sight.

Here it is, embarrassment in front of an idol.

You raised your eyebrows, looking back. If you say something, they are unlikely to understand.

Lifting the camera again, you brought your finger closer to the button once more.

"Click"

With a shake in your hands, you brought the screen closer to you, staring at the photo in the hope that the second attempt would not come. You breathed a sigh of relief. All three of them looked at you peacefully, without screaming and without anything that could ruin the shot. Even Godzilla silently stared at you, even though it was scary. But you didn't mind.

All that's left to do is reach out, poke your hand on that muzzle, and feel the texture of the scales.

But it will only be in dreams.

So far.

And now.. Enjoy a bunch of beautiful Titans that flaunt in your lens. After all, it's not for nothing that you stepped on that very step as a child.

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#godzilla #godzilla x kong: the new empire #godzillaxreader #godzilla monsterverse #x reader #king kong #King kong x reader #Shimo #Shimo x reader #Titans x reader #Kaiju #I'm a walking delirium #I just love the Titans

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fayeriess · 4 months

Text

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ WHEN ANGER

TURNS TO HONEY ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

daemon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: tensions rise between house targaryen and house royce after the death of your sister, lady rhea. the night of princess rhaenyra's wedding feast, accusations come to light, a finger pointing to the brother of the king — who just so happens to be your lover.

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, loose enemies to lovers trope, scratching kink (??), graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of loss of virtue, daemon being daemon, the usual hotd shenanigans

a/n: yet another installment of 'birth of violence' that has me fanning myself silly. bear with me if there are any mistakes or if you find anything to be incorrect, as i am still slowly easing my way into the fandom. enjoy friends <3

“I am making an accusation.”

The moment those words were spat out of your cousin's lips with the utmost venom he could muster, you had suddenly wished you were hidden behind the thick walls Runestone provided; mourning the loss of your older sister.

Gerold Royce should have bit down harshly on his tongue the second his heart burst in flames with overwhelming heat — hatred for the man before him, eyes narrowed with murderous intentions he so desperately wished to act on.

This occasion was anything but the correct time to address such serious matters, especially under the scrutinous eyes of the King, his heir, and his Hand who had watched with such caution that you had opted to distract yourself by digging your fingernails in the wax-coated skin of an apple you had plucked from the vast array of foods.

The rhythm of your breathing had grown uneven, breasts squeezing uncomfortable against the upper trim of your dress, pillowed lips pressed in a thin line.

Daemon Targaryen leaned back in the finely carved wood that made up his seat, nodding in faux understanding at your cousin's bold choice of words. Craning his head slightly to scan his violet eyes across his elder brother and Lord Lyonel Strong, his lips jutted before parting to speak.

“In King’s Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you.”

There it was. The infamous insult that sharpened the blade — stabbing it into the already agonized heart of your relative, as well as your own through the sonorous music pouring in the canals of your ears.

You had known this so-called slander to be true; knowing his profound hatred for the Lady of the Vale had finally been acted upon in the treachery of her brutal murder. It was an unfortunate occurrence you had trampled upon.

Her skull was bashed to bits, remnants of brain matter scattered about in thick clots of crimson that had decorated the grass and watered the dirt. You had touched with the pads of your fingers, still slightly warm to the touch. Deep within the pits of your stomach, weaved in your intestines, you had known the silver-haired man before you were to take the blame for her untimely demise.

However, you were in no position to come to such a decision, and nor would you ever be. Therefore, Daemon Targaryen would walk away with every limb intact, and you would continue to suppress your fury, forever scarred by the loss.

It was only then that you had sharply stood from your seat, apple long forgotten as it dropped onto the table with a quiet thud, momentarily attracting the curious gazes of those across from you, the others none-the-wiser as they continued to prance about.

Piercing, violet eyes caught yours for a fraction of a millisecond and if you weren’t as aware as you were now, it was something you were sure to miss.

Destastation never consumed you so… barbarically.

Gerold stepped forward, chubby fists clenched and shaking with contained wrath.

Daemon took it as no threat, offering an amused smile as if to mock his feeble attempt at intimidation and defense of his house, his name, and his cousin.

“The truth is, I’m glad you’ve come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance.”

“What inheritance?”

“Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband whatever she was due now passes to me.”

His words to you became a jumbled nonsensical mess.

Surely he had too much wine to drink before he had strutted through the thick doors of the feast hall, all mighty and proud of his feats and dirty achievements.

Before you could stop your actions, you strutted up the four short steps, forcing position next to Gerold whose jaw had grown taut with anger, teeth grinding against each other, practically shaking in place.

“It seems you’ve forgotten that Lady Rhea has a sister,” Your sharp words cut through the pause of uncomfortable silence that had settled despite music still echoing in the expanse of space, dimly lit, cozy yet unnerving at the same time. “and truth that no heirs have been brought forth, I have a right to claim. As long as I continue to breathe, you will take nothing.”

The finality of your statement seemed to have temporarily embedded itself in some part of Daemon that wasn’t as rot-ridden as he was, as he had nodded curtly at you, taking longer than necessary.

His lingering stares had never failed to send a chill down your spine, numbing you at the very core of your existence whenever you’d catch his gaze. He had preferred your presence over your sisters, despite the little time you two had spent together. Though he quickly figured that since you and the eldest bronze bitch had come from the same cunt, you were bound to have the same irritating little quirks — he just found you more tolerable, more sheltered than Rhea.

After all, the eve he had flown on the back of Caraxes back to King’s Landing, he had filled you — had given you something to remember him by. It showed when hues of purples and blues decorated the expanse of your stomach, under your ribcage, everywhere he could reach until you could no longer take everything he had to offer.

Daemon loved to ruin pretty things. And even though he had stated that the sheep were much prettier than any of the women in the Vale, he had not thought of you.

Roughly circling your arm around Gerold’s bicep, you tugged him away, and back to your designated seats, pulling him down to sit with as much strength as you could.

“Do not ever make such accusations in front of other lords and ladies of the realm.” You seethe, feeling him stiffen under your near-suffocating grasp, lips pressed together tightly before he nods.

“Good. Now eat, you’ve been neglecting your needs.”

And without a word, Gerold obeys.

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There’s moonlight casting shadows over the gargantuan towers of the Red Keep, basking certain spaces with a luster so gentle, it almost felt as if you were on your homeland, feeling the grass between your bare toes, inhaling as much fresh air as your lungs could home.

You could not do that here.

You could not taint your body with such putrid, toxic air as what loomed over in King’s Landing in thick clouds, dusting over the already sinful streets, waiting to discreetly make its way down your throat until it attacked every single cell in your body. Refuge from the disastrous occurrence of tonight's feast was not to be found here.

That was something you had quickly come to realize when you had picked at your fingernails draped over the ornate decoration of one of the many balcony railings that riddled the large fortress, mind wandering to other things that developed a small bubble of guilt.

You wouldn’t feed the monster. No. You couldn’t feed it the small handful of ill-at-ease altercations you’ve had with your brother bound by marriage, and the way he looked at you only intensified it to the point where you were sure it was to burst open, spilling your intestines and long-kept secrets.

“There you are. You know, you’re very hard to find.”

Clutching at the fabric of your dress, you rubbed it between your thumb and pointer fingers, spine straightening with such haste that it cracked slightly, back still turned to him.

That voice had haunted you in your dreams once, maybe twice if you could recall correctly despite your enthusiasm to find a way to rid them from the tissue of your brain. It had chosen to gather in the outer fluid of your skull instead, sloshing around the forefront from to time whenever Rhea had mentioned her cunt of a husband. They had not consummated their marriage, as he had no interest in sticking his cock in the likes of your sister, an eagle with wings far too big for her body.

That was something he despised about her, amongst many other things. Yet, he couldn’t find it in his dull, black heart to take any of it out on you, a vision among many; a person in his dreams he wishes he could call a stranger.

You had robbed him of something, and although Daemon wasn’t quite sure of what exactly it was, he’d figure it out in time. As he always did, no matter how rash.

“Should I be honored to be in your presence after you’ve sought me out, then?”

A brush of wind passes, seeping through the thin material of your clothing, through your skin, and wrapping itself around your bones.

“I think I should be … lady of the Vale.”

Turning your head in his direction, you narrow your eyes into slits as he makes his way toward you, hands clasped together firmly behind his back, hair slightly disheveled.

There’s a lump in your throat that you swallow with difficulty, heaving out a large, dramatic sigh, keeping your eyes locked on the side of his face, the slope of his nose. His brows were furrowed, the lines of age even more visible on the face you’ve only had the pleasure of touching once when he had thrust into you.

The mere thought of it calls upon the guilt again. So, you resist.

“I am in no mood for jesting, I only wish for a moment of peace. That is all I ask.” As tired as you had sounded, you had felt even more defeated knowing that no matter how much tea you’d ingest when you reached your temporary chambers, it would not be enough to keep your rumination at bay.

There’s a whistle somewhere nearby, a momentary distraction from how close he’s standing to you, shoulder to shoulder, body heat practically radiating like the fires you’d set deep within thick branches and high grass.

“You have a sly little tongue on you, don’t you?”

“Only when one claims what is to be mine.”

“Hm,” He hums, turning his head slightly to stare you directly in the eyes. “So eager to replace that dear sister of yours. Tell me, how did she so tragically pass again?

Daemon was trying to get under your skin. It was a skill he was best suited at, especially in a time of vulnerability such as this, with no one else around to diffuse the fire sparking between the both of you as your chest expanded so wide, that your lungs burned,

Grinding your teeth together, you could taste nothing but wine on your tongue as you pressed it against the roof of your mouth.

“A snapped neck and a crushed skull.” He tutts, “Such a shame.”

“Do not speak of my sister in ill manners when she has no way to defend her honor.” You spat, hand shaking at your sides, nails digging into your clammy palms – leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Is that not why she has a sister to take her place when it suits her, to fuck her husband without remorse.” The smirk that appears at the corner of his lips has your chin wobbling in anger, a hand outstretched to clasp at the lining of his blood-red sleeve; the same blood-red that painted your sister's head when it laid cracked open on blades of grass.

“Laying with you was an insult to my virtue.”

Slowly, as if you were to strike him at any moment, Daemon raised a hand, gently pressing it against the pillowed flesh of your bottom lip, wet with saliva and ready for him to devour all over again; the taste of citrus coating his taste-buds.

“I rather enjoyed our time together.” He admits with amusement as if the agony written on your face was purely a source of entertainment.

With unshed tears burning behind your irises, you blink, wrinkling your nose in mild disgust at the man in front of you. “Fuck you.”

And with that, he presses his lips against yours, teeth clashing against teeth as the heat of his mouth overpowers your will to resist. You’re putty in his arms and he knows it by the way his free hand grips your hipbone, gripping as if you keep you in place.

It’s messy, yet delectable all the same as his tongue mingles with yours, hot and needy as they dance, heads growing hazy from lack of breathing. A quiet moan escapes you when Daemon tugs your bottom lip between his teeth as if he were starving, pulling you as close to his chest as he can manage.

You’d burn for this, surely; for fitting in the arms of your sister's husband as if you’d belong there — for feeling some sort of desire — lust all for the man who had taken her from you. It had become all too real to you when he had brought you into his chambers and unclothed you slowly as if you were a sight to behold, drinking you in like the most expensive wine he’d ever sought out in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

It had all become too real when his hands had greedily palmed at your breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth with such enthusiasm, that you were positive this was an entirely different man from the one you had come to know. His cheeks were hollow as he sucked, nipped, and swirled his tongue around your hard bud, an arch in your back only encouraging his movements.

The organ in your chest was beating erratically, practically pounding on your ribs, hoping to crack them one by one and leave you a shell of yourself before you were to return home.

Just for tonight.

You’d feel his touch one last time before you’d beg for forgiveness for the rest of your life.

When Daemon removes his mouth from your chest, he finds himself sucking the skin at the base of your neck, paying attention to a particular spot you had reacted to, bruising all he could to claim you just like he told you he would the first, and only night he bedded you.

The sensation of the bare skin of your legs wrapped around his waist sends him into a frenzy as he inhales sharply, slapping his hands at the meat of your thighs before trailing one between your legs to palm at his hard cock, dripping with pre-cum and ready to bury you to the hilt.

“One last time.” You whisper, letting it mix in the heavy air, watching the way his brows furrow before the only emotion in his dark eyes dissipates.

He wastes no time, gathering your arousal on his tip before he’s sheathing himself into you, groaning lowly in the crook of your neck as your walls shape around him. Your insides are on fire with the way he’s stretching you, left hand gripping at the sheets near your head.

“I’ll never grow tired of this.” He says it as if he’d have you for the rest of his life, a soft lilt to words that you’d find praising if they weren’t coming from him, a Targaryen — a dragon conqueror.

Biting down on the soft flesh of your lower lip, you stared at his features, clouded with a certain haze of carnal desire. The feeling of your heart beating quickly against the bones of your ribcage subsided when a flow of arousal made itself known at the burning intimacy of the action, causing you to clench around his cock buried within you, your nails dancing down the nape of his neck to the expanse of his back.

A groan left his throat when that not-so-innocent sound he relished reached his ears, and it was hard not to pound you into the satin sheets right then and there. Instead, he pressed his bare chest against yours, skin hot and flushed, his wet lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

As the muscles in his back flexed, the light sting of where your sharp nails had once been clawing desperately reminded him just how much he loved the feeling of your nails breaking the skin there the first time. The sadistic action secretly becomes one of his favorites as you do it now. It was physical proof that he could please you in a way no one else could touch you in all the right places, and watch your pretty eyes roll into the back of your head.

Every single reaction you had to even the slightest touch — was all because of him. He’d want his touch to be all you’d ever know.

“So good, sweetling,” He drawled lowly. A quiet but adequate praise before he removed one of his hands from your side, producing a sharp hiss from you as his palm slapped against the outside of the fat of your left thigh once more.

You whined, the pulse between your legs aching with arousal, your slick pooling at the base of his cock when he’d fully unsheathe himself only to ram, back into you again. “Such a tight little cunt, huh?”

Wrapping your legs around his unclothed torso as much as you could manage, you crossed your ankles, pushing him in until he touched a spot so deep within you that you choked on your breath, the air seemingly knocked out of your lungs by his harsh movements as he continued to stretch you.

With closed eyes, you let your eyebrows furrow in concentration at the euphoric feeling he brought to you, a relentless pace that sent your toes to curl involuntarily.

The air was hot and the sheen of sweet blooming between the both of you did little to quell the intense heat. Skin slapping against skin and your lewd moans echoing off the thin walls and right back into your ears was all that could be heard aside from his panting.

It was only when his hand had slipped near your neck to cup your jaw, that you had let out a sob so pathetic that he had chuckled right into your skin, tears distorting your once clear vision of him as he continued to pump himself in and out of out.

“Look at you.” He cooed, “So pretty with those tears in your eyes.”

Your fingers had flexed uncomfortably near the top of his spine, nails scratching against the expanse, and moving toward his scalp, twirling wisps of loose silver hair around your finger as the frame squeaked beneath your bodies.

His guttural groan vibrated throughout your chest, rattling your body. The burning sting that seeped through the minor, raw wounds encouraged him to hold your hips down, ramming so deep into you, that you had started to writhe beneath him.

Daemon could tell you were close.

How could you not be with the way he was abusing your cunt; rocking you through your orgasm.

The slow, deep breaths he took to steady his breathing helped you focus on calming your own as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, thrusting one, two, three more times before emptying himself in you, painting your walls with his seed, filling you to the brim before swiftly pulling out of you.

Your gaze never left his fit, naked figure as he ran a hand through his hair, shuffling toward the end of the bed, back hunched and toward you as the silence and realization of what you had done ate at you.

Never again. That was a promise you intended to keep.

Never again.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen angst #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd #daemon targaryen

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ereardon · 6 months

Text

Snowed In || Friday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 3.2K

Masterlist here

“And this just in. More than a foot of snow is expected in areas across the Tri-State, with Scarsdale already at seven inches and counting. LaGuardia has shut down their runway, with Newark and John F Kennedy airport soon to follow.”

You groaned, flicking off the TV and opening the cabinets. They were predicting the worst storm in two decades and somehow all you had in the cupboard was a lifetime supply of ramen noodles and red wine.

Outside, the snow was falling in soft clumps. You looked out the window which overlooked Fifth Avenue. Very few cars or taxis were on the road, and the people who were outside looked miserable.

And then the phone rang. You dove for it, expected it to be your mom with yet another tidbit of news that she thought was groundbreaking, as if you didn’t already know that Diet Coke was bad for you, but the male voice on the other end startled you.

“Ella?”

You squinted, pulling the phone back and registering the caller ID. Jake Seresin. You groaned. “What could you possibly want, Jake?”

“Nice to hear from you, too,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. It had been a decade since you last heard from Jake Seresin. He was just as obnoxious as you remembered.

“Listen, Seresin, if you called just to give me shit, I didn’t need a reminder that you’re a dick. Memory serves well enough. Goodbye.”

“El, wait!”

You frowned. “What?”

His voice softened. “I’m sorry to do this,” he said and you felt your stomach tightening. “But you’re the only person I know in the city.” Jake paused. “I’m stuck at JFK.”

“Don’t eat the egg sandwich,” you said, recalling a moldy sandwich you had gotten once at the airport on the way to Berlin. “Have a good flight, Jake.”

“Ella, I’m stranded,” he said and you groaned. “Can I stay with you? Just until the airports open back up.”

You looked outside. In the two minutes since Jake had called, snow had started to fall faster, coating the streets and sidewalks and innocent pedestrians.

“I’m sorry,” he said and for perhaps the first time that you had known him in almost fifteen years, Jake Seresin sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t my only option.”

Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him, he was standing in the doorway of your college apartment with a bouquet of flowers that Suzannah had grabbed and trampled on in fury.

“Ella? Are you still there?”

“Fine,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Fifth and 12th Street. Apartment 4B.”

“I owe you, El.”

“Two days, Seresin,” you replied. “Anything more and you get a hotel.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

***

You had hated Jake Seresin for as long as you could remember. Or at least, since the first time you saw his smug face in a poli sci lecture. He was sitting in the back, drinking a cup of coffee and doodling on a notebook. At the end of class, he had come right up to you and asked if he could copy your notes. When you said no, asking why he hadn’t taken his own notes, he had called you sweetheart and shot his best grin.

You turned on your heel and walked away.

Two years later, your roommate Suzannah has been stupid enough to fall for his charm, and you were treated to the unfortunate experience of having to listen to the two of them having sex behind the thin walls of your apartment. More than once you had stumbled into a shirtless Jake in the bathroom, smelling like sex and acidic cologne. Once he had walked in on you naked and instead of hurrying out like a normal person, he had leered.

You had doubled down on your hatred for him from that moment on.

When the doorbell buzzed you sighed, peering at the small ring camera before pressing the buzzer. “Come up.”

The minute between buzzing him in and Jake knocking on the door felt like a century. It always did. There was something so awkward about shuffling around, waiting for the door but not wanting to be too eager to open it when the knock finally came.

Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open.

Jake Seresin in the flesh. The same goofy, brilliant grin from a decade before. Sandy blond hair dotted with melting snowflakes, cheeks ruddy and pink from the cold. He wore a light jacket, far too light for the extreme weather, and held a duffle bag in one hand, cowboy boots soggy and wet, dripping on your doormat.

“Jake.”

He smiled, leaning in for a hug and you pulled back at the last second so he stumbled over the threshold. Jake righted himself. “Ella. Still hate me, I see.”

You turned, shaking your head. The sound of the door closing was followed by the plop of Jake’s bag on the ground. “Shoes off,” you called out, and there was a clattering as he kicked off his boots.

Jake appeared a moment later, his jacket removed, revealing a tight henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He took a look around the studio. It was surprisingly large, for New York standards. Not Sex and the City unrealistic, but nice, with an alcove to the right that held your queen sized bed, a large couch against one wall and a dining area in the center.

The galley kitchen off the main hallway was large and the bathroom was relatively spacious for a studio. It had just been you for so long that you didn’t think twice about the size. But something about Jake in your space made you realize maybe it wasn’t as spacious as it looked to your smaller frame. He hulked in the hallway.

“Nice place,” he said. “Been here long?”

“Four years.”

He tipped his head. “Always knew you were going to end up in New York, didn’t you?”

You sighed, plopping down on one end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What are you doing here, Seresin?”

“I told you, I was stranded at the airport,” Jake replied, stepping forward and taking a seat on the chair opposite of the couch. You grimaced. His outdoor pants were touching your indoor furniture. That was the downside of having guests. If Jake could even be considered a guest. Don’t guests have to be invited? Or wanted.

“On your way to where? Somewhere without extradition laws?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Ten years, Finn. Ten years and you haven’t changed.”

“Have you?”

The words clung to the air. The elephant in the room. It didn’t matter that it had been nearly a decade since the last time you had seen Jake Seresin.

His betrayal still stung, even if it had never been directed at you.

“Ella,” he whispered. Outside, the sky was darkening. Without the constant bumper-to-bumper traffic that was a given on Fifth Ave, the street was uncomfortably dark. There was a dampness that chilled your bones, even from the comfort of being inside. “Please. Can we just put aside the past for the next few days?” He looked older. Small lines at the corners of his eyes. Jake Seresin had a loud, boisterous laugh, you remembered that about him. The way he could liven up a party. The way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room.

This time you were.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Finn?” he said, bringing back your nickname from college. “Truce?”

You leaned back against the soft white couch cushion. “Fine.”

Jake grinned. It was magnetic and you hated him for it. “Well, let’s celebrate then. Got anything to drink?”

“Been here one minute and you need a drink already?” you asked, standing up. Jake’s eyes roamed over your leggings and sweater as you made your way into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Someone never got over their frat days I see.”

Jake reached out, taking the bottle from your hands and turning it on its side. “You must be doing OK,” he said. “This is a one hundred dollar bottle of wine.” You handed him the wine opener and he undid the top easily, sliding out the cork and laying it on a stack of magazines on the marble coffee table.

“Anything is better than that Franzia shit you used to love.”

Jake ignored your comment, instead turning the bottle and reading the label. “I did a wine tour in Lebanon a few years ago. This was one of my favorite vineyards.”

You frowned, holding out a glass and he tipped the neck of the bottle against the thin rim, dribbling it into your glass. “So did I. That’s where I got that bottle.” You pointed to the 2015 Chateau Musar in his hand.

“What were you doing in Lebanon?”

“Writing a story,” you replied. “What about you?”

“Went with a friend,” Jake said. “We met in Portugul and decided fuck it, let’s go to Lebanon.”

“Still wildly dependable I see.”

“I have a job, Ella. I’m an adult.”

You laughed, tugging your knees to your chest. “Oh yeah?”

Jake nodded, setting the bottle of wine down. You let your eyes roam over his fancy jeans, cashmere socks, shiny watch that you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he was doing OK for himself.

“Fine,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “You have a job. Slow clap. Who doesn’t?”

Jake shook his head. “Still bitter,” he replied, tilting his glass to his lips. “Whatever happened to you and Connor Gray?”

“Oh God,” you muttered. “Fuck no. Do you know what he’s doing now? He’s a fucking DJ in Bushwick.” You mimed gagging. “I’d rather eat my left foot than date some Chelsea-boot-wearing guy who drinks craft beer and tries to serenade me on a hot rooftop in Brooklyn on his shitty guitar.”

Jake tipped his head back with a laugh. It filled the room. You had almost forgotten how boisterous his laugh could be.

“What about you?” you asked. “Any poor unsuspecting women?” There was no ring on his finger, no tan line or dent to show that perhaps he was divorced instead.

“Nope.” Jake put his glass down. “Single.”

“Really? Jake Seresin, single.”

“It’s hard out there, Finn,” he said, his voice hitting a register you couldn’t quite place. Something between sadness and begging for understanding.

“You were never without a date to a formal in college. Couldn’t even go out without girls throwing themselves at you.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think the player in you would just shrivel up and die the minute we hit thirty.”

“I’m still twenty nine,” Jake corrected. “And I don’t know what to tell you, El. It was fun for a while. But then I started to feel kind of gross. Like Leo DiCaprio. A new girl all the time. I couldn’t go to a single wedding without people asking about the girl who I had brought to the last one. But she was long gone.” He paused. “Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the same girl for more than a month or three dates.”

You frowned. Jake Seresin, a reformed manwhore? Not possible.

He shrugged. “There, is that my dues for the night? Told you my dating life so now you owe me shelter from the storm?”

“For now,” you said, standing up. “Interrogation can resume later. I’m hungry.”

“Then let’s eat.” Jake looked outside. “It’s pretty shit out.”

“Agreed.”

“What do you have for food?”

You winced. “Honestly? I mostly eat out, so not much.”

Jake stood up, brushing past you so closely you could feel his broad chest press against you for a second on his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll figure something out. You relax.”

“Relax? With you in my apartment? Fat chance, Seresin.”

He rolled his eyes. “Going to be a long weekend, isn’t it, Finn?”

***

Jake somehow managed to make a perfectly edible dinner out of the almost-expired food in your fridge and what was left in the pantry. The two of you sat at the small two-person table you had pressed against one set of windows overlooking Fifth Ave.

Anyone looking in might think it was a date. Even though Jake had dated Suzannah for almost a year, you two had barely spent any alone time together. That’s how you always tried to keep it with your friends’ significant others. A simple conversation here and there, usually while your friend was showering or getting ready or coming back from the store.

Never like this.

After dinner, Jake insisted on cleaning. As if it would make up for the countless times he had left shit in your apartment sink in college. You stood at the window, watching the snow pummel from the sky, coating the street in a thick blanket that it couldn’t shake. There was no one outside walking around. It felt apocalyptic and you cringed knowing that you still had at least a day alone with Jake and nothing to do but be in each other’s presence.

“It’s dark in here,” Jake said, startling you. You turned as he reached for the overhead light.

“Stop,” you said and he froze. “Lamps, dumbass. Why do men always want to use ceiling lights? Do you like being bathed in fluorescent light?” You strode over to the dresser along one wall, flicking on a candle warmer lamp and another small lamp on the far side of the room. Warm light spilled out into the room.

“Does it matter?” Jake asked.

“Yes.”

Jake shook his head. “Alright, Finn. I’m all yours. What do you want to do?”

“You mean other than throw you out in the snow on your ass?”

Jake stepped closer. “Am I really that bad?” he whispered.

You looked up. Clear green eyes, perfect almond tanned skin. Hair swept back in a carefree manner. You could tell why Suzannah has lost her fucking mind over him all those years ago. He really was too pretty to be true. “Maybe.”

Jake looked around. “Well I would say I can get out of your hair for a few hours, but there’s not really many options.” He was right. Minus the alcove where your bed sat, the apartment was a pretty open floor plan.

“Let’s just watch TV and watch the minutes tick by on the longest day known to mankind.”

Reluctantly, you settled down onto the couch and flipped on the TV. After scrolling for a solid five minutes, Jake groaned.

“What, Seresin?” you demanded.

“Take longer,” he complained.

“Fine, you do it.” You shoved the remote into his chest, trying to ignore how nice his chest felt beneath his shirt.

Jake took the clicker and flicked through the apps before settling on a movie.

“No,” you argued.

He turned to you with a grin. “It’s a guilty pleasure. Humor me, Finn.”

You grimaced as Twilight started. Jake laughed his way through the serious parts of the movie, cackling out loud at the spider monkey bit and you found yourself laughing along next to him. God, Carlisle really was hot. So was Charlie. That’s how you knew you were almost thirty.

By the end of the movie, the two of you had shifted comfortably on the couch. You were no longer three feet apart. Instead, your feet were crossed over each other, almost precariously touching Jake’s where they sat propped up on the coffee table.

It was the first time in years that you could remember sitting through an entire movie without some guy trying to feel you up or make a movie.

The credits started to roll and you reached for the remote just as Jake did. You pulled your hand back like it was on fire and he handed it to you. “Sorry,” Jake said softly. His voice had grown huskier in the hour and a half since the movie started. “Your TV. Your remote.”

“It’s fine,” you said and it was gentle. He smiled. There was something devilish about Jake Seresin’s smile. It was too perfect. You cleared your throat. “I, um, should get to bed

“Me too.”

You stood up, clicking off the TV. The room felt darker without it, just the soft lamps illuminating small circles of light. “I’m going to shower. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows. The couch should be big enough for you.”

“Thanks, El.” There was something so genuine about the way he said it that threw you off. Who was this stranger and what had he done with the dickwad from Stanford? “For letting me stay.”

“See how much you like me after a night of sleeping on that,” you replied, digging in the closet near the hallway for pillows and a comforter, dumping them in Jake’s arms. “Do you, um, need to use the bathroom first?”

“I’ll go after you.”

In the shower, you were acutely aware that no more than twenty feet away, Jake Seresin was fiddling around in your apartment. You had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours with him at Stanford, but this was different and you both knew it. When you entered the living room, steam pummeling out of the bathroom door, Jake looked up from where he stood shirtless in the living room. “Oh, God!” you exclaimed, holding one hand up to your face. “What the fuck?”

“Fuck, fuck, sorry!” Jake grabbed for his t-shirt on the couch, tugging it on. “OK, you’re safe. All clear.”

“This isn’t Barcelona, Seresin,” you complained, stepping toward the dresser and sliding open a drawer, pulling out a pair of silk pajamas. “Or a rave in someone’s basement.”

He sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. “Been that long since you’ve seen a shirtless guy, huh, El?”

You hated that he was right. “Fuck off.”

Jake chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”

“Maybe that’s why no girl wants to date you for more than a week,” you snapped. “Because you’re a dick.”

Silence hung in the air, thick like the snow clumping on the streets outside the window. You held your breath, letting your lungs sit there and burn. Jake’s eyes haunted yours.

You felt bad. Never had you ever expected to feel bad for Jake Seresin. Golden boy. Womanizer. Player extraordinaire. But this was obviously a sore spot and you knew it.

He looked sad, sitting in your apartment living room in the near-dark, face drawn and quiet. An unease squeezed at your stomach.

“Jake, I–”

Jake stood, cutting you off. “It’s fine. I’m going to use the bathroom if that’s OK.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You watched his frame disappear down the hallway, rounding the corner into the subway tiled bathroom. As you sat down in your silk robe at the edge of your bed, the silence in the apartment, usually so comforting as an alternative to the bustle of the city outside, felt stifling. When Jake returned in the dark, flicking off the final light and settling onto the couch, you held your breath, waiting for him to say something.

But nothing ever came. The two of you laid there, ten feet apart, separated by a wall of silence.

You had spent ten years who knows how many miles away from Jake Seresin and never given him another thought. Why was it that ten feet now felt like a lap around the equator?

The chill in the room wasn’t in your head and it wasn’t from the blizzard outside. You and Jake had created frost all on your own.

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @fangirlvoice @buckysteveloki-me @eli2447 @bellaireland1981

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #jake hangman x you #jake seresin au #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #hangman series #hangman imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

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