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mariespen · 3 months

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Hands Off ༉‧₊˚

overprotective!rafe cameron x fem!reader summary: rafe lets his girl go to a pogue party under one condition warnings: description on injury, description of fighting, mild descriptions of assault, swearing

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“You’re funny, princess. Go take your jokes somewhere else.” Rafe said, rolling his eyes, obviously annoyed as he walked out of the kitchen.

“Rafe, come on..” You started to protest, drawing out the ’n’ and sounding a bit more whiny than you wanted to.

He sighed with irritation as he turned back around. He looked at you like you were absolutely out of your mind. You met his eyes with your own innocent look, trying everything you could to convince him to let you go.

The Pogues were throwing a party on their side of the island and of course, you were invited. Rafe already didn’t want you anywhere near them, so immediately you knew your biggest obstacle was going to be your short-tempered boyfriend. It didn’t help that he wouldn’t let you get a word in so you couldn’t even give the whole ‘convincing’ act a try.

“Baby, I said no.” He finished, walking fully out of the room and up the stairs with blatant frustration.

You walked behind him, trying to come up with a plan. You went into your shared bedroom blind, planning on saying whatever came out of our mouth first. He was already on the bed, scrolling through his phone mindlessly when you walked in.

“I’m going, Rafe.” You said sternly, quickly changing your body language to that you were standing up straight with your arms at your side, making every attempt to seem confident in what you were saying.

“No, you’re not.” He said with a laugh, looking at you like he was mocking you.

“Yes I am.” You bit back, walking to your closet to grab the outfit that you had already picked out for yourself.

He rolled his eyes from his place on the bed as you got changed, ready to turn you down again. You tried to keep your head up as you pulled on a skimpy bikini top and bottoms, covering your lower half with a detailed mesh skirt. You sighed, the colors complimenting your skin and everything hugging you perfectly. With your newfound confidence, you strolled out into the bedroom, going to start packing your purse as casually as you could muster. You felt his furious eyes on you when you walked out and you heard him sit up.

“You are not.” He said, standing up off the bed and moving to your side, grabbing your cheeks and turning your face to look at his, “Princess, you are not going to this party.” “Yes I am, Rafe.” You said, trying to keep your confidence as he towered over you.

“No, no you are not. You’re gonna stay in with me, a’ight?” He said, holding your hips and trying to pull you away from your bag.

“Rafe, yes I am,” You said, turning around to face him and putting your hands on your hips in frustration, “And you can either watch me go or go with me.” His eyes lit up and you instantly knew that you made the wrong choice of words.

“Y’know what? I think I’ll go with you.” He said with a smile, walking off to the closet just as you did before.

“No.. wait!” You called after him, walking into the closet as he picked out a more suitable outfit.

“No, no. I’m taking you up on your offer.” Rafe said casually, looking at you with a small, sly smile.

You watched him getting ready, seeing him change his shirt and button it as you stood there helplessly, trying to form a working thought. He finished, moving to kiss you at your place in the doorway. You kissed back, your mind clouding over even more as he took your hand and led you to the bedroom again.

“Ready?” He asked and you nodded in defeat, grabbing your purse off the bed.

He led you out, the house already darkening from the sunset. You slipped on a pair of sandals and he did too. Rafe kissed the top of your head before walking away for a minute, visibly grabbing a gun and shoving it into his waistband.

“Rafe, put it back.” You warned, trying to sound intimidating but he laughed you off, spinning you around and then opening the door for you.

“I said I was comin’.. may as well be prepared.” He said, winking at you.

You rolled your eyes, walking out to the car with your arms crossed. It was warm enough, but there was still a cold breeze at your shoulders and you shivered. You got in, Rafe doing the same not long after.

“Don’t look at me like that, princess.” He said, his eyes lingering on your frustrated face.

You turned away from him, sighing a bit for dramatics. You tried to stifle a laugh when he reached out, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. You turned to meet his eyes and he greeted you with a smile, kissing you the moment you faced him. For the rest of the drive Rafe’s hand was resting on your thigh and your face was turned to the window, thoughts spinning in your head.

It took a few minutes, but you eventually got to the party. There was a good amount of people and Rafe looked at you from his place in the driver’s seat. You looked back and he immediately pulled you closer, kissing you and sloppily leaving marks on your neck.

“Rafe!” You said, pushing him off with a soft giggle as he marked you up.

“What? Js makin’ sure these pogues know you’re mine.” He said, going back to it and you squirmed a bit, finally getting him to let go.

The two of you walked to the part of the sandy beach that the party was being held at. You looked around, a little intimidated by the amount of people that your friends had managed to bring together. Rafe’s hand was on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

You met eyes with Kiara and Sarah, feeling Rafe’s annoyance as he saw his sister there too. The two girls looked at you in shock, partly because you managed to come and the other part was left questioning why on earth you brought Rafe Cameron to a pogue party. You approached them haphazardly with a nervous smile while Rafe stayed by your side.

“Hi guys..” You said as Kie returned your nervous smile and Sarah eyed Rafe.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah spat at Rafe, rolling her eyes when he took a step in front of you.

“Protecting my girl, and you?” He asked with a scoff.

“Rafe c’mon.” You said, stepping out from behind him and talking to Kie.

“Why..” Kie started in a hushed tone, but you waved it off, walking away from Rafe to see John B and JJ.

JJ smiled at you, seeing you walking up with Kiara. Luckily Rafe was keeping a distance, finding some of his own friends to distract himself with.

“Hey, princess!” JJ said and your eyes widened at the nickname as he walked over to the two of you with drinks.

Apparently, Rafe wasn’t as far as you thought, because the moment those words left JJ’s mouth, you felt Rafe’s protective hand on your back yet again.

“JJ.” Rafe said, greeting him for you with a glare.

“Really?” JJ said, his shoulders slumping when he saw Rafe.

JJ looked at you for help and all you could do was shrug and walk up to him.

“Hi, JJ.” You said with a smile, grabbing the drink from him and taking a long sip.

You felt Rafe’s hand come to the cup as he brought it away from your lips and took a sip for himself. You rolled your eyes, taking it back and starting to walk with Kiara again. Rafe followed you and kept a close eye on the other people around you, making sure no one said anything about his girl.

The night went on and you talked with your friends, dancing and letting the alcohol warm you up. Rafe kept a soft hold on your body for most of the time, occasionally letting you dance and instead keeping himself busy by talking with some of his friends. It was pitch black outside and you were slowly getting tired, the original energy that you had was fading off. You went to find Rafe, surprised to see that he wasn’t at your shoulder. You spun around, looking for him and separating from your group.

You felt a pair of hands on your waist, sighing in relief and going to tell Rafe you wanted to go home.

“Baby can we-“ You stopped yourself, realizing that the man who was touching you wasn’t Rafe.

Immediately you shoved him off of you, trying to walk away. He grabbed your arm and panic coursed through your body as you felt his grip tighten.

“C’mon..” The man said, looking at you with drunken eyes, “You’re so pretty, let me see you.” You pulled against him, freeing yourself. You tried to walk away again, feeling anxiety bubbling in your chest. His hands returned to you, pulling your body into his. Tears started to well in your eyes and you closed your eyes, squirming and pushing yourself away.

You felt his hold on you become still and you opened your eyes just as Rafe pushed him fully off of you. Rafe yelled something that you couldn’t understand and gently pushed you to the side before the man stood back up, taking a swing at Rafe, who seemed unbothered as he flashed his gun and took a few swings himself.

You’ve always hated it when he fought, so you looked down at the sand and just listened quietly to the grunts and punches, the occasional cheering becoming more common as the crowd around you became bigger. Eventually you felt Kiara grab you, pulling you away while Sarah and John B pulled Rafe off of the bloody man beneath him.

Your panicked breathing caught back up to you as Kiara pulled you away from the crowd. Your heart dropped as you saw Rafe’s bloody face, hearing John B tell the two of you to leave before the police showed up.

“Are you okay?” Kie whispered to you and you nodded, hugging and thanking her before going to Rafe.

He grinned at you, wiping a bit of blood from his lip before kissing you. You kissed back before pulling away and leading him to the car, checking on him constantly.

“Are you okay, baby?” You asked, touching his busted lip and bloody nose with caution as you walked.

“M’fine.” Rafe said with a smile, holding you close to him, “are you okay, princess?” He asked, kissing the top of your head as he unlocked the car.

You slid into the passenger seat, nodding and trying to calm your breathing. He noticed, putting a hand on your thigh before beginning to drive off.

“You’re okay, a’ight? Told you I’d protect you.” He said, rubbing your skin with his thumb.

“Thank you.” You whispered, putting your hand over his.

“Anytime, yeah?” He said with a smile, “You’re mine, won’t let another man touch you, won’t let em’ hurt you.”

You held his arm to your body through the drive, burying your face in his body the best that you could. He eventually calmed you down as you pulled up to the house. He got out quickly, opening the door for you and helping you out.

You made him sit at the kitchen island, getting out the heavily packed first-aid kit that his family kept in the kitchen. He sat still as you wiped the blood from his lips and the drops that hit his chin. He put his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him and looking up at you with glossy eyes as you wiped the blood from his nose, bandaging the small cuts that scattered his face. His hands wandered from your hips to your back and then down to your ass, grinning up at you as you finished placing the last band-aid on his eyebrow.

“My pretty lady..” He said, kissing you with his swollen lips.

You giggled, kissing back before pulling away, “C’mon tough guy, let’s get to bed.”

He got up, letting you take him upstairs and scattering your neck with dark hickeys the moment you closed the door. You tried to stifle a giggle, eventually pushing his head away and getting changed out of your skimpy outfit. He did the same, getting into bed after you.

“I love you, baby.” You said, letting him hold you close as your hands found their way to his hair.

“Love you too, princess,” He said, kissing your cheek and relaxing into your soft touch, “I always protect what’s mine, yeah?”

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #mariespen #outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe drabble #rafe cameron drabble #overprotective rafe #obx fic #obx #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff

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vampcubus · 1 year

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : kyojuro sure likes to stare, doesn't he? :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, gn!reader, pre-established friendship, background obamitsu meddling. :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 1.4k+

Kyojuro, bless his heart, is so hopelessly attracted to you in ways he’s never experienced.

Everything about you draws him in, from your striking beauty to your quick wit, how despite your snark you always treated others with compassion. You were fast friends, not that Kyojuro was particularly difficult to get along with. You’d even argue that such a person as him was impossible to dislike, at least without feeling guilty about it.

He was blunt, genuine, and brimming with so much enthusiasm it tended to unsettle some. But never you. You would look upon him with quiet acceptance, hanging onto his every word. You didn’t seem to mind his complete disregard for eye contact or his erratic conversational skills.

You just get him, he muses. And he’s never felt a kinship like that with anyone.

Kyojuro has always felt like he was moving faster than everyone else, both in mind and body. The man couldn’t sit still or shut up to save his life, or so the other Hashira would say – endearingly of course. No matter the sentiments his comrades held for him, none of them seemed to keep up quite as well as you did. Which is why he presumed you worked so well together.

He could blabber on about anything and have you following along just fine. Though after a few roundabout conversations ranging from swordplay to street food, he musters the confidence to ask if he talked too much for your taste.

You only quirk a brow and snort, “Pffft, of course not! I like listening to you talk.” and you see something shift in his gaze, the softest shade of pink tinting his round cheeks.

It’s around there when the staring starts.

It’s a subtle change at first, catching his wide-eyed gaze from across the training field. Feeling his eyes upon you as you shared meals together. Stumbling over your words when you realize for the first time that he’s actually looking you in the eye as you talk.

It’s a new and exhilarating feeling to be able to admire those honey-colored eyes fully fixated on you for a change. Too often you found yourself staring back. And the way he brightens when your eyes meet sends your fickle heart into pesky palpitations every time. You swore his pupils bled further into his golden-red irises every time he spotted you.

The idea of his eyes dilating at the mere sight of you endears you even more fiercely to him. As if such a thing was possible. You’re already attached at the hip, not to mention the dozens of joint missions you’ve taken.

His exuberance could be trying when your objective was to blend in, but his swordsmanship more than made up for it. He was incredibly good at taking the edge off when tensions were high, he was an emotional pillar of support, and you were honored to have his focus.

The beloved Flame Hashira was enthusiastic about many things, but you most of all it seemed. You’ve been told by several other Hashira that you were one of his favorite topics of conversation. The image of him gushing about you to other people is as embarrassing as it is flattering.

“Y/n is so easygoing, I cherish their company!”

“Did you know Y/n makes the best rice cakes?”

“Y/n is such a fierce swordsman, I am honored to fight at their side!”

“Y/n this, Y/n that. You’re all he talks about you know,” Iguro points a finger in your face one morning.

“So I’ve heard,” you hum, hand perched lazily on the hilt of your sword, though you’re unsure of precisely why he’s telling you this. Your eyes stray to Kaburamaru, who only flicks his tongue at you, leisurely slithering down Iguro’s shoulder from his coiled position around his neck.

You’ve always known the Serpent Hashira to be abrasive and confrontational, but the sudden interest in your relationship with Rengoku was uncharacteristic. Especially since he usually disregarded your presence unless he had something to criticize. You didn’t dislike him, but you wouldn’t say that you were close.

Did he know something you didn’t?

You try not to make assumptions based on the worries of others, but Kyojuro’s childhood friend approaching you out of the blue to tell you something like that? It makes you wonder just what sort of things Kyojuro has been saying about you to warrant such an interrogation.

Was Iguro trying to discern your intentions as a way of looking out for him? Perhaps your feelings for Kyojuro weren’t as internalized as you’d thought.

“Is this your way of saying you’ll snap me like a twig if I break his heart?” you ask, lips curling up into a sly grin, head cocked to one side.

Heterochromatic eyes blink in surprise, and then narrow.

“You catch on quick.”

“You can relax, Iguro. I won’t hurt him.”

“Few can be entirely sure of that. For your sake, I hope that’s the truth,” he waves you off, turning away in disinterest upon hearing your response.

The encounter leaves you with mixed feelings. Would Iguro have asked if he didn’t already know how Rengoku felt in return? It's an unsettling and gnawing feeling. Not the idea that your feelings could be returned, just the uncertainty of it all. If Iguro noticed it, why didn’t you?

“Iguro approached me earlier,” you say as you sit across from the flame-haired swordsman, currently having lunch at one of your favorite spots to eat.

“Did he now?” Kyojuro acknowledges, eyes still closed as he stuffs another bite of octopus into his mouth. His round cheeks puff out cutely, the image of a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts forming in your mind.

“He told me you talk about me a lot.”

“All good things of course!” he assures, seemingly unbothered by the news.

“That’s the thing,” you chuckle nervously, poking at your food with your chopsticks. Kyojuro’s eyes fluttered open, now focused on your fidgeting hands. “He seemed concerned that you had feelings for me beyond friendship.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you stuff food into your mouth to escape it, eyes focused on your plate. You can feel his gaze, but you’re too intimidated to meet it.

“Would that be a bad thing?” for once, Kyojuro sounds nervous.

It's a subtle strain in his tone that others who didn’t know him as well might have missed. But years of close proximity have made you perceptive to the almost invisible chinks in his armor. Kyojuro was heavily guarded for being such a friendly man, always eager to lend a hand or ear when others were in distress, but quick to clam up when it came to his own problems.

Your heartbeat skips, excited and terrified. Was that a confession? Were you reading too far into things? Was the question rhetorical? All these questions well up inside until you feel like you’ll burst.

You can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re so hard to read,” you lamented, nearly jumping out of your skin when his fingers brush yours from across the table.

“Perhaps If you looked at me, you’d have an easier time,” he laughs, and your heart already feels lighter at the joyous sound.

The anxiety in your tummy melts into giddiness, and you demurely tilt your head up to meet his eyes. They’re crinkled fondly, pupils large, and fully fixated on yours. His golden-red eyes consume yours, inspiring your fingers to twitch against his. You can only compare such an expression to a smitten puppy.

You suddenly feel silly for entertaining any doubts that the Flame Hashira was any less enamored than you were.

“To be completely honest, I have been interested in you romantically for quite some time now, and at a loss of how to contain such strong feelings,” he confessed, and suddenly a lot of things started making sense.

He stared at you so much because he liked you. He talked about you so much because he liked you. He let you tag along to missions he could have easily handled on his own because he liked you. Iguro approached you because he noticed.

“Then no, I don’t think that would be a bad thing at all.” You turn your hand with your palm facing upward to accept his own into your grasp.

Kyojuro’s smile widens, and he nearly shakes the entire restaurant with the volume of his declaration of, “WONDERFUL!”

“See, Obanai? I told you they just needed a little push!” Mitsuri gushes from across the restaurant, just her green eyes and the top of her head peeking over the menu.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader

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beenbaanbuun · 14 days

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Haiii this might be a weird request but I wonder if you could write an angsty Addams!MATZ fic 😭 so sorry if this is weird I've just been feeling really angsty! You can choose whatever happens lol I just wanna cry 🫶🏽

sorry i didn’t write this sooner!!! i really wanted to but i’ve been super busy over the past few days :(( i never feel super confident writing angst but i did my best!!! i hope you enjoy :D

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hongjoong yelled at you… hongjoong never yells. he doesn’t yell when yeosang is being difficult to train or just acting downright feral. he doesn’t yell when clients are being cheeky and asking for far too much. he doesn’t even yell when you’re being a brat and he slips into ‘dom mode’ to punish you. yet he yelled at you just a few minutes ago…

why?

it’s your fault, you tell yourself. if you’d just listened when he told you he was busy, none of this would’ve happened. he was already stressed so why did you think being a brat and pushing his buttons would be a good idea? of course he wouldn’t want to deal with you when he already so much else on his plate with work. it was dumb of you to even think he’d give you the time of day.

you try and keep your tears to a minimum as you stalk through the house. noisy crying would only be another distraction to hongjoong and you don’t want to upset him any more than you already have done. still, despite your best attempts, you can help the shuddered breathing and quiet sniffles as you make your way down the stairs and towards your favourite spot in the house.

the fire is already crackling, drawing you in like the pied piper. you can hear the hushed conversation behind the soft crepitation, but you ignore it, entirely too focussed on how nice it will be to flop onto your favourite rug and fall into a slumber. perhaps when you wake, everything will be fine. maybe hongjoong won’t be mad at you anymore. he’ll smile at you as he tells you you’re forgiven, placing a kiss to your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips. he’ll take you up into his arms and apologise for yelling, speaking to you in the softest, most gentle voice he can muster. it’s a nice thought…

you reach the doorway to the living room, staring up at the large, oak arch that reaches high above your head. it’s carved with intricate details all hand finished by their artist friend, yunho. most of it represents their respective histories, each of their tales beginning from the bottom of the arch and climbing the wood like vines until they reach the apex at the top. prior to your arrival, their wedding had been the carving at apex of the arch, the image of two ravens, each holding a ring within their beaks, sat proudly above everything else.

now, though, the image at the top is entirely different. a lamb with dove wings and a dainty collar around its neck. the ravens still sit proudly on either side of the creature, watching over it as it sleeps. as you stare at it, you can’t help but wonder whether hongjoong will still be upset with you come bedtime. there’s a spare room down the hall that you used to sleep in when you were nothing more than their sugar baby and it was too late for them to send you home alone. perhaps you’ll have to reside in that room tonight, cold and alone and unable to sleep without the warmth of your lovers on either side of you. the thought has you biting your lip to silence a sob.

it doesn’t quite work. you still involuntarily whimper, catching the attention of both seonghwa and yeosang. their hushed conversation halts to a stop as they see you at the doorway, eyes wide and wet as you stare up at the very tippy-top of the arch. your fingers tangle themselves up as they helplessly fiddle with one another, tugging and twisting and picking until blood begins to pool along one of your nail beds. seonghwa can’t recall a time he’s ever seen you like this, and there werewolf had certainly never. they share a wary look.

“my darling lamb,” seonghwa calls to you in a hushed voice. he doesn’t want to startle you by being too loud, but he needs to pull you from this anxious haze you’d found yourself trapped in. he can’t lie that he’s a little relieved when your red ringed eyes flicker over to meet his. smiling is the last thing he wants to do upon seeing you in this state, but he knows his gentle disposition will calm you; it always does. his lips curl up softly. “what happened?”

the werewolf that has taken up residence on your favourite rug watches with concerned eyes. ever since his arrival, you’ve been an annoying little shit. an absolute thorn in his side when he wanted nothing more than to have a peaceful existence in his new home. you have no respect for personal space, you never know when to shut up, and you’re always way too cheerful all the time. they were facts that yeosang just had to accept when he realised you weren’t threatened by his harsh growling and gnashing teeth. all those times he had you pinned to the floor, spit spraying as he warned you to leave him the fuck alone only to have you giggle in his face and call him pretty; that person is nowhere to be seen right now.

“pup?” he hums, deep voice grumbling as his worries work themselves into his tone. even though he quite thoroughly despised you on his entry to the house, it seems you have this magical ability to work your way into the hearts of anyone you set your sights on. you set your sights on him before you even knew him; it took you no time at all to become one of his top priorities. “tell us what’s the matter. we can’t help unless we know?”

you take a few tentative steps into the room, bare feet tapping lightly against the parquet floor. they’re so used to your thundering footsteps as you traverse the house at your excitable pace. the silent footsteps you take towards them make their skin crawl.

you reach the rug, gently lowering yourself until your bare thighs hit the soft fur. your pastel blue skirt—the one that seonghwa had picked out to match the werewolf’s fuzzy blue jumper—bunches up around your waist, but neither of them have the time to admire how perfectly slutty it looked. it hardly seems right when you continue to wordlessly snivel and whimper, not even bothering to lay yourself down alongside your favourite werewolf-shaped pillow.

“hongjoong was mean to me,” you whimper, and seonghwa can’t lie, it confuses him.

hongjoong is mean to you a lot. it’s how he punishes you for being a brat, bullying you into submission until you decide to be a good girl. he calls you names, pushes you around a little—it’s nothing too severe but still enough for him to have earned the reputation as the crueler of the two of them. for a second, seonghwa thinks he’s landed on the answer, you must’ve been a little too bratty and couldn’t handle the consequences…

but that still doesn’t make sense.

if you couldn’t handle the consequences then that must’ve meant you weren’t in the right headspace to be punished. that in itself is nothing new, although normally, you tend to realise that before you decide to go and act out. it could’ve been the case that you didn’t realise you weren’t feeling up for a punishment but then you should’ve used your safeword. the fact that you’re sat downstairs with him and yeosang and not snuggled up in hongjoong’s arms is testament to the fact that you can’t have done that either. his husband would never do something so utterly stupid as to let you out of his sight when you’re clearly still upset over a scene you stopped.

so what happened?

did you just force yourself to take a punishment you didn’t want? no. seonghwa knows you’re too smart to do that just like he knows his husband is too observant not to notice. it’s something else entirely. something that seonghwa just can’t put his finger on.

“i need a little more information than that, darling,” seonghwa coos as he leans forwards to rest his elbows on his lap. his chin sits prettily in the palms of one hand, the other coming to rest atop your head. he pets you a few times, his touch like a cloud as tries to soothe you. your shoulders relax a touch, but your fingers still pick at one another in your lap. seeing you in such a state makes his heart sink. “lamb, what exactly did hongjoong do to make you so upset?”

you sniffle, separating your hands for just a second to wipe your tears away. they fall right back onto your lap, twisting and tugging and smearing the blood around. seonghwa can’t help but be thankful that nothing in the house is pale enough to be stained by your blood; otherwise he’d be marching you the bathroom to wash your hands, begging you to tell him what happened as the two of you walk.

“he yelled at me,” you say simply, as if that would answer all of seonghwa’s questions. it doesn’t. in fact it only fills his mind with more.

“he yelled? as in he raised his voice?” seonghwa asks softly. he hopes that the answer is no; that you just mean that hongjoong has scolded you for something. it’s a little bit of a strong reaction for just a small telling off, but you have been known to take these sorts of things to heart.

but you nod, and seonghwa’s heart sinks. hongjoong never yells at anyone, let alone you, his little dove. seonghwa and yeosang pass an odd look between them.

“master yelled at you?” the werewolf hums as he shuffles his body closer to yours. an arm wraps around your waist and effortlessly tugs you until you’re lay flat against the rug alongside the pretty creature. he lays the hand atop your own, stopping you from doing any more damage to your nail beds. the blood that spills onto his hands is nothing that bothers him. “why would master do that?”

the question is more aimed towards seonghwa than it is you. as close as you are with the couple, it’s only really seonghwa that knows the inner workings of his husbands brain. he always has an explanation to everything hongjoong does…

“i don’t know,” he says, a frown taking over his beautiful features. you hate it because you know it’s your fault. you upset hongjoong, you got yelled at, you told seonghwa, and now you have upset him. every sign points to you…

“it’s my fault,” you whisper. yeosang’s arm tightens around your waist in an instinctive display of protection. from what, he isn’t too sure. “i just wanted him to take a break but he’s too busy right now. i should’ve known.”

of course. seonghwa could’ve guessed it would be down to stress. it’s been a rough few weeks for hongjoong, the stress of yeosang arriving and finding his way into their weird, mismatched family, mixed with an increase in customers with the jewellery business, it’s safe to say hongjoong had barely had a moment free. of course, yeosang has calmed a little by now, but that doesn’t take the stress of the business away from his poor husband. he’s still being worked half to death by demanding clients who have more money than sense.

seonghwa imagines that any moment now, his husband will come to his senses and see that you were just trying to do something nice. that you weren’t just being difficult for the sake of it—which, granted, you often are—but were instead just trying to take care of him. you lacked the grace and finesse that the two of them did, but you still tried. demons, it fills his heart with love to know that you desire to care for them in the same way they care about you. you’re such a precious little lamb for them; they must’ve done something very special in their past life to deserve you.

“oh, my lamb,” seonghwa mumbles through a soft smile, “you have nothing to blame yourself for except being at the mercy of your own empathy. you prodded him because you were worried and that’s very thoughtful of you. your daddy should be worshipping you for such a kind act. i’ll go and see if i can’t talk some sense into him, hm?”

he stands up, long flowing trousers pooling gracefully over his feet. his red nails dance along them as he straightens the material out, trying to iron out the creases with only his bare hands.

“i’ll be back soon,” he hums, “let your puppy take care of you for now.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #matz x reader #yeosang x reader #opposites attract universe #poly ateez #poly ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader

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hoony2k · 3 months

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FAN BEHAVIOUR

Heeseung gets a call from cupid at a fan sign.

PAIRING: heeseung x latina! reader

GENRE: fluff, delusional hee

WARNINGS: despacito mention its heeseung what can i do

WORD COUNT: 1018

NOTE: I'm kind of ? about this like this was supposed to be a paragraph or two, I wasn't exactly sure how to represent mc as latina because generalising an entire ethnicity is strange and I didn't want to give reader a certain body type/hair type. But I do hope you enjoy!

requested masterlist

There is a certain system in each fan sign that Heeseung has committed to memory. Around 60 seconds per fan- give or take. If he thinks about it logically then he's bound to encounter fans that don't bias him, small talk and a cheesy smile while teasing them about their bias works unless they have a Heeseung-centric request.

When he meets his fans, he embodies confidence. Slips his fingers into theirs, with permission of course, waves their hands and asks if they've eaten, what song they loved, and gives a genuine compliment. Apart from saying whatever he feels at the moment, he keeps a list of what fans like the most. And no, he does not memorise fan comments like a syllabus-he only scrolls through them.

But for the first time, when you take the seat before him, Heeseung gets tongue-tied. Momentarily, his brain refuses to respond and all he can do is stare at you and the way your eyes crinkle as an exciting "hi!" escapes you.

Mouth dry and tongue no longer functioning, Heeseung prays you can speak Korean. Except your accent declares don't and suddenly he forgets every English lesson he's had with patient teacher Jake. You stare at him expectantly and the slow crease in your brow snaps him back into character.

"Hello," it's far too enthusiastic, to the point where it makes him want to wince externally but your smile is pleased, shoulders no longer tense and Heeseung pats himself on the back for doing a good job.

You hold out your hand sideways, anticipating a brief handshake but Heeseung turns your palm to rest into his larger hand. A small laugh escapes you and then you bring your poster forward for a signature.

His free hand uncaps the marker in a swift motion, he glances at the poster and on purpose signs a bit too close to Jay's hair. On the table, where your hand rests inside him, Heeseung notices the dark blue coating your nails and realises how good blue looks on him.

"Who's your bias?", he attempts to make small talk. His voice doesn't shake this time. Meeting pretty fans isn't new, but meeting pretty fans that make his knees wobble? Not often but Heeseung can't get off the adrenaline rush that occurs when it does.

When you don't answer after a beat, he looks up from the small note he's not too discreetly writing. Your gaze doesn't leave his and the playful tint in your eyes makes him feel things that he shouldn't because as the seconds go by his confidence is diminishing. Heeseung has never been the best at talking to pretty girls.

"Guess", you tease. You lift your palm (and his) and begin to wave it around. Heeseung's ears flush and before he can stutter, he shuts his mouth. It has to be him…right?

"Me?", he bites the bullet, marker tip pointed at himself. You reply with another smile, smaller but much more meaningful, mirthful.

A hand pushed the poster to the side to reveal a small Heeseung posing. Did you have his photocard?

You nod at his question, a bit shy, too subtle but Heeseung notices because he's been staring very closely, trying to memorise this moment with you and him before the staff tells you to move.

Drawing a heart on the back of his photocard and your expectant smile is all he needs to regain his confidence. He needs to make the most out of this experience, especially if he'll never see you again. He gazes back at you, shakes your arm and musters the most charming smile he can, "I'm your bias, Gracias".

He wonders if he should wink or if that would be an overkill. You laugh and squeeze his hand, clearly amused and entertained. A staff taps him on the shoulder, telling him to wrap it up and it pains him to imagine you leave so he continues, speaks far too quickly and jumbles over his words.

"No, no, you're good," you remind him, "I'm attending the concert soon!" He giggles like a school girl and you begin to stack your things as the girl next to you stands from her seat.

Next to his signature on the poster, a note catches your eye.

"You're my star <3" The writing is titled and rushed but still, you bit your lip to protect your heart from jumping out of your chest. Heeseung hasn't stopped admiring you, but he can't seem to meet your eyes as he observes how you quickly tuck a lock behind your ear after reading his note. It was a spontaneous action, who can blame him for falling for a pretty person?

The staff member returns and taps Heeseung on the shoulder, smiles at you and slowly you get up. Unwillingly, Heeseung allows you to pull your fingers out of his grip and he's already missing you. He doesn't need to, but he piles your merch and hands it to you. Another smile is sent his way, fingers intentionally brushing as you take your merch from him.

In those final seconds of the fan sign system, Heeseung commits to something he usually avoids. Commitments are promises, promises that can be fulfilled but their fulfilment is always uncertain. Sometimes things are just out of his control, yet he can't help himself, his body betraying his mind.

"The next time I sing Despacito, it's going to be for you".

His expectant gaze and promise staggers you for a moment, pausing you in the moment. Heeseung waits to hear your voice one more time, a wish to see you again dies on his lips when a large smile breaks on your face.

"I'll remember it", you make another promise and despite not knowing you personally he knows you will never break it.

In the final moments, Heeseung isn't sure if he'll ever see you in the crowd next time, lost in the sea of people. He's not sure if you'll attend another fan sign, if you'll still bias him in a few months but the small secret shared between you two makes him believe that you felt the connection as much as him.

Thank you for reading!

Please do not copy/translate/edit.

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reminiscingtonight · 3 months

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champagne - turbulence - laughs

Love At First Flight (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

A/N: There was no player attached so I decided to write for Leila!

[WOSO Masterlist]

“Champagne for you, ma’am.”

The soft drawl of the flight attendant has you pulling your eyes away from the movie you’re not even paying attention to. You only put it on in hopes of distracting yourself, but so far it hasn’t done a thing.

“I-- I didn’t order one,” you grit out between clenched teeth.

The flight attendant seems apologetic, clearly attuned to the way you’re nearly jumping out of your skin. “The woman over there wanted to send you something for your nerves.”

You follow her finger to the row in front of yours. There’s a gorgeous woman across the aisle giving you a sympathetic look.

You raise a shaky hand in thanks, trying to breathe in long and deep to calm yourself. It doesn’t work. Downing the whole flute in one doesn’t seem to work either.

It draws a low chuckle from the charitable woman though.

“That bad, huh.”

“That obvious?”

It took some serious convincing on the part of your friends to vacation in Ibiza during the holiday. With most of them flying in from places all over the world, this meant a solo flight for you from your hometown of Manchester. Flying has always been your last choice of transportation, not one for the skies, so you already knew it was going to be a rough ride. You had debated taking some medicine right before the flight, but the frazzle brain that you are, you managed to misplace them right before you left.

If it wasn’t for the generosity of your nearby passenger, you were already seriously debating ordering some alcohol for yourself.

“Do you mind if I…” She gestures to the empty seat next to you.

You nod, turning your body so she can slip in beside you.

“Leila,” she supplies without any prompting.

You’re halfway through introducing yourself when the plane hits a sudden rough patch, shaking you in your seat. An embarrassing squawk leaves your lips and you latch onto the closest thing you can.

Leila winces at the strength of your grip.

It isn’t until a good half minute later, when your heart rate finally starts to settle that you realize what you’ve done. “Sorry,” you whisper, slowly easing your hand off hers.

“It’s okay,” she chuckles. She flips her hand over, quick to catch yours before you can fully pull away. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Something about her confidence has you blushing a bit. She lets you take comfort from her hand, your body slowly relaxing the longer your hand stays in hers.

It’s almost strange, the way you find comfort in someone you don’t even know. If Leila minds, she doesn’t seem to show it. If anything, there’s a smug sort of look on her face as she makes herself at home beside you.

When the silence persists and it’s clear that Leila is content to just sit in the quiet, you muster up the courage to say something. “Whatcha going over to Spain for?”

She gives you a look. “Accent doesn’t give me away?”

You blush again. “Well I didn’t want to assume.”

Leila laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “I’m just going back to see some friends. Haven’t been able to see them much since I moved over to Manchester.”

“Oh, what did you move here for?”

By the time you hear the ding of the seatbelt light, the captain garbling some announcement about landing soon, you and Leila have become well acquainted. It’s almost as if you’ve known each other for years, laughing and trading stories one after another.

She looks almost a bit disappointed that your time together has come to an end.

You’re feeling pretty much the same.

You pause to let her grab her bag first, but Leila waits for you before the two of you start your slow trek off the plane and into the airport. Your hands slowly bump, brushing the entire way off, but something about your bubble being broken has you hesitant to take her hand into yours again.

The closer you get to the luggage claim, the more you realize you want to see Leila again. What are the chances that you’ve run into such a beautiful woman who’s caring enough to sit with a stranger for an entire flight? And what are your chances that the two of you would ever run into each other again? It isn’t like Manchester is small enough for you to hedge your bets on chance bringing you back into her orbit once you’re both back home.

“Would you maybe like to meet up again when we’re both back in England?”

Leila doesn’t miss a step, sending you a wink as she gestures towards your pocket.

Frowning, you reach into your pocket. You’re surprised when you pull out a piece of paper, nine digits neatly written with a little note on the side.

[Call me if you need someone to hold your hand on the way home]

When you look up, the Spaniard is nowhere to be seen.

But with her number in your hand, you know it won’t be long until you see her again.

#leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes #3wp

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thatdammchickennugget · 1 month

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The Marauders Yule Ball Headcanons

a/n - hogmarch prompt 4! <3

Remus;

♢ Remus is both nervous and excited about the Yule Ball. His heart races at the thought of spending the evening with you, but he also worries about making a fool of himself on the dance floor. Still, he can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation at the chance to create magical memories with you.

♢ He struggles to find the right words when he asks you to be his date. He rehearses the moment in his head a thousand times, but when the time finally comes, he stumbles over his words, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. However, your smile and enthusiastic acceptance make it all worth it, and he can't help but feel a surge of happiness at the prospect of sharing the night with you.

♢ Remus spends hours agonizing over his outfit for the Yule Ball. He wants to impress you without looking like he's trying too hard, so he opts for simple yet stylish dress robes in deep shades of blue that bring out the warmth in his eyes. He makes sure every detail is perfect, from his neatly combed hair to the way he adjusts his collar with nervous fingers.

♢ Despite his initial nerves, he is determined to make the most of the Yule Ball. He's a bit reserved at first, but as the night goes on and he sees you smiling and having fun, he loosens up. When a slow song comes on, he musters up the courage to ask you to dance, and his heart swells with happiness as you rest your head on his shoulder, lost in the music and the moment.

♢ As the Yule Ball comes to an end, Remus wishes the night could last forever. He walks you back to your common room, stealing glances at you in the moonlight and cherishing the quiet moments shared along the way. When you finally reach the common room, he lingers for just a moment longer, wishing he could freeze time and savor the magic of the evening a little while longer.

Sirius;

♢ Sirius approaches the Yule Ball with a mix of excitement and nerves, but beneath it all, there's a burning anticipation to spend the evening with you, the object of his affections. He sees the ball as an opportunity to show you a side of himself beyond the rebellious facade, a chance to let his guard down and share a magical moment with someone who's captured his heart.

♢ He doesn't beat around the bush when he asks you to the Yule Ball. He's confident and direct, sauntering up to you with a playful smirk and asking in his trademark charming manner. He may throw in a witty remark or two to lighten the mood and make you laugh, but his intentions are clear: he wants to spend the evening with you and make it a night to remember.

♢ Sirius manages to put a lot of effort into his appearance for the ball, while making it look effortless and minimal, preferring a casual yet stylish look that reflects his rebellious nature. He opts for sleek black dress robes with subtle accents that showcase his Gryffindor pride. Most of his time preparing is spent on perfecting his hair.

♢ At the Yule Ball, Sirius is a whirlwind of energy and charm, drawing you into his orbit with his infectious laughter and magnetic presence. He's not one to shy away from the dance floor, throwing himself into each song with reckless abandon and dragging you along for the ride. His movements are bold and uninhibited, a reflection of his free-spirited nature and desire to make the most of every moment spent with you.

♢ As the Yule Ball winds down, Sirius is reluctant to let the magic fade. He suggests sneaking out of the castle for a midnight adventure, eager to prolong the night and steal a few more moments alone with you. Whether it's a spontaneous stroll through the Forbidden Forest or a secret rendezvous by the lake, he savors every second spent in your company, already counting down the days until he can do it all over again.

James;

♢ James is absolutely ecstatic about the Yule Ball. He sees it as the perfect opportunity to spend time with you, his crush, in a magical and romantic setting. He can't stop daydreaming about the moment he'll ask you to dance and hopes the night will be filled with laughter, stolen glances, and maybe even a chance to confess his feelings.

♢ He goes all out when he asks you to the Yule Ball. He plans an elaborate surprise, maybe with a trail of enchanted roses leading to a secluded spot where he's waiting nervously with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. His heart pounds as he stumbles through a slightly rehearsed speech, hoping you'll say yes and make his dreams come true.

♢ James puts a lot of effort into his appearance for the Yule Ball, wanting to impress you while still staying true to his laid-back style. He chooses stylish dress robes in Gryffindor red and gold, making sure they fit just right and accentuate his charming smile. He enlists the help of his friends to ensure he looks his best for the occasion.

♢ At the ball, James is the life of the party. He loves to dance and doesn't hesitate to take your hand and lead you onto the dance floor. His movements are confident and fluid, and he's not afraid to show off his Gryffindor spirit with a few daring twirls and spins. He's constantly by your side, making sure you're having a good time and stealing glances whenever he thinks you're not looking.

♢ As the Yule Ball draws to a close, James is reluctant to let the night end. He suggests taking a walk outside to enjoy the starry sky and quiet moments together. Maybe he'll confess his feelings under the twinkling lights, or perhaps he'll simply hold your hand and enjoy the warmth of your presence as the magical evening comes to an end. Either way, he's determined to make the most of every moment spent with you.

Peter;

♢ Peter turns into a bundle of nerves when the ball is announced. But as someone who often feels overlooked or underestimated, he sees the event as a chance to step out of the shadows and make a lasting impression, especially on you. He hopes the magic of the evening will give him the confidence to finally reveal his feelings.

♢ His approach to asking you to the Yule Ball is timid yet heartfelt. He may stumble over his words or shyly pass you a note expressing his desire to accompany you to the event. Despite his nerves, his sincerity shines through, and he hopes you'll see past his insecurities and give him a chance to share the magic of the evening with you.

♢ Peter puts a lot of thought into his appearance for the Yule Ball, wanting to make a good impression on you. He chooses attire that's classic and understated, opting for simple dress robes in Gryffindor colors. He may spend extra time fussing over his appearance, hoping to erase any doubts about his worthiness to be your date.

♢ At the ball, Peter is a mix of nerves and determination. He's not the most confident dancer, but he musters up the courage to ask you for a dance, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes your hand and leads you onto the dance floor. His movements are hesitant at first, but as the night goes on, he gains confidence, his steps growing surer as he loses himself in the music and the moment.

♢ At the end of the night he walks you back to your dormitory, his heart full of hope for the future and the possibility of something more between you. Though he may not have danced perfectly or said all the right things, he knows that the most important thing is that he was able to spend the night by your side, and for that, he's grateful.

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#marauders #marauders fandom #hogmarch #hogmarch challenge #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #headcanons #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #peter pettigrew x reader #mari writes

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whorediaries-09 · 4 months

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baby, something with sirius and reader going to a pureblood ball, and her defending sirius against walburga and sirius having heart eyes for her?? reader is pureblood btw, and slytherin, so she's basically perfect but risking her reputation for siri baby

your wish my command 💃

dusk till dawn

pairing- sirius black x lestrange!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, dialogue heavy. (let me know if should add more) a/n- kinda an enemies to lovers?

ps- i hate the banner 💀

the slut club

let's make love tonight make it up, fall in love

the breakfast table seems too loud to be tolerated today. you rest your cheek on your palm, closing your eyes. you pull the wand out of your hair, letting it fall down. drawing incoherent circles on the wood of the table you yawn, too sleepy to let your mouth move and eat your breakfast.

your eyes don't open until the table goes too silent, excluding a few gasps here and there. the chaos murmurs down to a silent rumble. it's not your hand you feel on your head, it's cold and rough.

'you would've fallen asleep lestrange,'

your eyes widen. it's the voice of the casanova of hogwarts, who reeked of an arrogance you hated with all the hate you could muster.

'does it matter?' you snap back, your voice a carrying a heavy spell of drowsiness you didn't recognize. he raised an eyebrow, retracing his hand from your head, pushing a glass of pumpkin juice towards you.

'yep, i wouldn't want a bruise on my date's face tonight,'

the words spill so casually from his lips, it takes you a few minutes to understand what he said. when realization dawns upon you, you almost spit your drink on his face. instead you swallow on it in an unethical way, coughing up.

'w-what?' you splutter.

'bellatrix's wedding. be there.'

'well obviously i'm gonna be there, she's getting married to my fucking brother.'

'yeah so you'd want a date wouldn't you?'

'why don't you take potter? all the pureblood families are invited.'

'i'd love to, but his family isn't going.'

'but why me?'

'i dunno, cause i know you?' he says, sheepish grin on his face. you raise your eyebrow, looking at him questioningly. it's as if you're trying to progress his request. well not exactly a request, rather a command. nevertheless, you consider it for a moment. while sirius' rebellious attitude and image would surely taint your 'perfect' image, it didn't matter because you too needed a date and so did he. and even though you did 'hate' him, you saw your own opportunity, you wanted to grab it.

'so...what's in for me?'

'come on lestrange, you're getting a date out with me, isn't that enough?'

'nope. i would've considered it if you weren't so tacky black,' you return. he huffs throwing up his hands in the air.

'fine, i'll get you your favorite chocolates from honeydukes,'

'you can't buy me with chocolates. you'll do anything i say if i go out with you. deal?'

he glares at you.

'deal.'

***** the grand ballroom of the black manor glittered with the opulence befitting the pureblood elite. the wedding was a spectacle of extravagance, a showcase of the finest robes, dazzling jewels, and a careful dance of political alliances. sirius reluctantly found himself in attendance, accompanied by you that caused whispers through the gathered crowd.

your family was known for it's pureblood lineage, material possessions and wit. the confidence you felt in the satin robes was fake, but your aristocratic upbringing had taught you to never put your head down, even if you didn't feel comfortable enough.

maybe there was a fire within you or a coldness in your gaze that intrigued him tonight. while you were meant to be pawn, he couldn't help but glance at you. you looked different. you felt different. he wondered if you put up a mask at school or there. the latter seemed more appropriate to the image he had created of you in his head.

but still, you felt different. a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere where he felt suffocated.

'remember, no touching,' you breathed smiling as you so shook hands with lucius malfoy. while the gaze from his empty eyes sent chills down your spine, you still smiled.

your eyes locked with your brother. he was decked up in a black suit, your family emblem stitched on it with silver threads. brushing his hair away from his face, he mustered a comical grin, putting up a thumbs up in the air. your mother stood beside him, dusting off invisible dust from the velvet. it was a wonder how he could tolerate her nonsense, considering how many times you had wanted to knock her teeth of. nevertheless you approached her. with sirius behind you.

'good evening mother,' you bowed.

'i see you've brought a traitor as your date. i'm not very proud,'

you smiled. you could talk back, she couldn't use the cruciatus curse.

'you never were mother.'

'glad you caught up.'

'i see someone has chosen my filthy traitor of a son as their date,' walburga's oily voice boomed. sirius backed his shoulders, unconsciously gripping on your arm. while his sudden touch felt ghostly, you controlled your urge to back up.

'lady black, i assure you just because you don't choose your son doesn't mean no one else will. he really is a perfect companion.'

the tension hung so thick, you could cut it with a knife. her eyes gazed over you as if you were rust on iron. you felt his grip tighten on your arm.

'now if you'll excuse us,' you said, turning to your brother, 'congratulations on your wedding brother, but it seems like no one here likes our presence. excuse us.'

****

'you really shouldn't have done that you know. defend me against my own mother.' he says, smoke leaking out of his lips as he passed a thin roll of tobacco to you. you crush it under your toe.

'eh,' you shrug, his eyes not meeting yours. yours wander among the stars, the beautiful twinkling reminding you of the veiled insults and shared laughter the both of you had throughout the night.

'i've never really had a friend you know. it was always my brother, but somewhere i think i lost him too. and maybe defending you against your mother gave me a sense of validation.'

sirius squeezes your arm.

'i feel the same way. i think about running away to the potters, but i fear i'll be the black sheep. my mother has engraved shit into my head. and even though i know it's not true, i feel like it is,'

'shit like? you're worthless? sirius you're way more than their opinion,'

his voice is heavy when he hums. silence ensues, but it's a signal. to maybe meet after dark. or maybe to show the place where the others gave him scars. either ways, you let him hold your hand. you think he needs the comfort, wreck your plans. you think you're the train that truly takes him home. at least for the night.

'i feel like i had to tear down my banners. and sometimes i think clarity's in death, but this doesn't die. and memories feel like weapons. the wounds don't close.'

you draw circles on the skin of his wrist. they are unhealed wounds. and maybe you want to heal them. just for perhaps the night. you want to stay, you want him to know that you're there. even if just for dusk till dawn.

it's a childish question but you let it spill out of your mouth anyways.

'will you be my friend?'

he doesn't answer. he rests his head on your shoulder instead. he smells similar to your father, but he doesn't feel like it. he feels like the train that could take you home.

'you collect broken things and try to fix them. if i won't be one of those unfixable things, then maybe.' he whispers. you tighten your fingers around his. it's a silent promise.

to stay.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #marauders era #sirius black imagine #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you

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llunapastell-reads · 5 months

Text

ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ || ʙ.ᴄ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ :･ bang chan x afab reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ :･ hurt/comfort | fluffy | smut ᴡ.ᴄ :･ 3.7k ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs :･ profanity | sexually explicit | unprotected piv

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ :･ Amidst the mess of an neglected office space, your boyfriend's forlorn piano evokes a wave of painful recognition. You wonder how much dust could collect on your shoulders before Chan realizes he's forgotten you too.

✧.* ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ & ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ

An abrupt thud sends a spurt of pain through the crown of your head. It startles you more than anything, breaking your concentration on the drudgery at hand—cleaning out a long-forgotten cabinet nestled in the alcove of your home office. Well, to call it your office isn’t entirely accurate. With all of your boyfriend’s music equipment overtaking the majority of the space, it feels more like a foreign than familiar territory now. You do have your own desk opposite Chan’s makeshift studio setup, right below the room’s largest window so you can draw in the natural lighting. But it’s been a long while since you last picked up a sketch pad.

Hell, it’s been a while since either of you had the time to do anything in this neglected corner of your apartment.

A mumble of curse words falls under your breath as you soothe where you’re sure a decent bump will form later. A small break feels befitting now that the hoard of art supplies is somewhat organized, and you should probably grab an ice pack for good measure. The task has been looming over your head for too long, which is why this rare lull in your afternoon was dedicated to tidying up the room that has been usurped by clutter and storage.

Work has left you drained of all your free time and willpower, and when you did muster up a speck of vigor, it was usually in the name of chores or other responsibilities. Chan was even worse, all his time being spent practicing as he and the guys geared up for another comeback. His life has always been dominated by his craft—the man wouldn’t have it any other way—but you couldn't help but take note of how your moments together had been reduced to fleeting exchanges between late-night studio sessions and pressing deadlines.

You blink away the thought and cast bleary eyes over your shoulder. The beams of light that flood in through slatted blinds appear almost tangible in the air, so much so that you’re tempted to try and grasp one in your hand. Instead, you trace their glowing pathways across the room, where molten colors of gold and clementine reflect off the keys of a piano on the opposing wall. Each ivory piece seemingly ignites in the setting sun’s radiance, and a deep sigh alleviates some of the wistful feelings that thrum in your chest at the sight; it was only a few years ago Chan had bought that secondhand piano from a local shop after months of contemplation.

He somehow always talked himself out of the commitment, too humble to seriously entertain the thought of spending money on himself, especially when there were always bills to pay. Your relationship was fresh then, and even though the secret of mutually bashful affection had only been confessed a few weeks earlier, you were bold and convinced him a bit assertively to think of it as a business expense. The purchase meant aid in refining his skills, to enhance his contributions to his team: the beloved group of friends who looked to him for leadership with nothing but an unwavering confidence that he never quite felt worthy of. That’s what persuaded him to spend the one-and-a-half paychecks it required—the idea of altruism. The recollection of crinkles that formed in the corner of his eyes from unabated joy seems just as vivid as the luminous piano you’re shuffling over to from across the carpet.

Kneeling before it, your body sinks to eye level with the weighted keys. Hesitant fingers hover just above them for a long moment, as if one touch will disturb the magic of its glow and transform it back to an abandoned piece of dusty equipment. You’re not sure what possesses you to purse your lips and blow instead, but it’s a marvel to watch the tiny dust particles suspended in the air become glitter in the sun. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth the whole time you tend to the instrument with a delicate touch, taking time to wipe down each crevice and bend. It was pathetically sentimental, but the keys were left for last. It just felt disrespectful to invoke any sound without deliberate intent. Once satisfied, you sit properly on the bench and admire your work.

It tickles to consider the extent of abuse these well-worn keys have endured at the hand of its enthusiast owner. The piano was the very first thing he had unpacked when you moved into this apartment a couple of summers ago, your first place together. Almost instantly it felt like home, even with blank walls and no furniture, aside from numerous stacks of cardboard boxes. The only thing occupying the room was Chan with a pencil tucked behind his ear to notate every tweak made to the piece he was composing. Sometimes, you’d catch him grinning to himself once the right notes fell into place and the room would suddenly appear brighter. His presence transformed any space into a beautiful sanctuary.

Hands clutch your chest as if it will somehow quell the sharp pang of longing deep within. Have you been so busy and distracted you hadn’t noticed the depth of the void that had stealthily crept into your lives? No, it wasn’t obliviousness. You just didn’t want to hinder him, especially when he was dedicating himself so earnestly to the career he’s built, to the team that needs him. You lied to yourself, said it was fine that you couldn’t remember the last time you ate a proper meal together, or got lost in a late-night conversation that stretched into dawn. It’s only when your head falls against the sternum do you acknowledge the wetness collecting in your waterline. The relegated instrument before you breeds a deeply discomforting feeling of recognition in your stomach.

Maybe you should just stay here, see how much dust collects on your shoulders until he notices. It’s painful to consider if he’d notice at all.

A melody he penned resonates amongst your distraught clamor of thoughts. The recollection is fuzzy, like it’s being filtered through an old phone line. Your hand moves on autopilot until a subtle and delicate sound emerges from the slow press of a key, summoning a wave of calmness to fall over you. Like a hushed secret, the note seems to linger, its tone rich and full, as if time itself has slowed down by its enchantment. With another caress of a key, and then another, every nuanced vibration somehow finds its place in the tranquility of the room bathed in hazy light.

Your rendition wasn’t perfect, but it felt good to get lost in the memories that surface from the music. You picture those tufts of soft curls bobbing along to the rhythm, chiseled features set in fixated concentration before he lost himself in the song. Chan’s passion was palpable, but what mesmerized you most was the graceful arc of his hands that moved with a fluidity that spoke to years of diligent practice. Hands of a god, Jisung would say when you watched them in the studio sometimes.

Your heart does a somersault when your playing is accompanied by the distant sound of a lock unlatching, followed by subdued creaks of floorboards. A stifled chuckle approaches from the doorway and pulls you from the daydream. “Please, don’t stop,” Chan smiles once your eyes meet. “I love this song.”

The man is a vision; dampened strands of hair appear dark against the flush of his skin, a result of what must have been an intense dance practice. A display of dimples almost distracts you from noticing how his shirt clings to the broad expanse of his shoulders. The black fabric does nothing to conceal the swell of biceps when he folds his arms over his chest. As he steps past the threshold of the space, the contours of his profile suddenly shimmer in the light. There’s a hitch in your breath, and your cheeks must appear flush too, but for a totally different reason.

“I don’t remember how this part goes,” you admit and bashfully turn your attention back to the instrument. Your fingers falter as you hit all the wrong keys, pulling huffs of laughter from Chan at the dissonant sounds you’ve produced.

All your muscles tense once he closes the space between you. Tone arms wrap around your body so Chan can guide your hands to the right keys. His breath tickles the shell of your ear when he leans in over your shoulder, the rhythm calm and in complete contrast to the erratic thumping of your pulse.

“I’ll show you,” the low octave of his voice incites goosebumps.

With tender patience, Chan guides your overlapping hands through the first set of notes. He hums along to the melody, harmonizing with the song while your interlaced fingers explore their way across the keys. How you yearned for this, the feeling of his warmth enveloping you—it excited every atom of your being, elicited a kind of vibrating sensation under your skin. You lean back against him and nuzzle the crook of his neck. A deep inhale has you feeling dazed, the mixture of his musk and the scent of smoky vanilla like a potent drug.

“Y/N, you’re not paying attention,” your boyfriend coos.

Just one more inhale before you can respond. The corners of your mouth curl upward as you ask how he can tell.

“You’re making me do all the work,” he tsks with feigned disappointment.

“I’ll give you a reward for your efforts,” the plush of your bottom lip ghosts over the edge of his jaw, feeling the muscles clench beneath. An open-mouth kiss presses into the bone and you’re unable to resist swiping your tongue along his skin. It tingles when Chan’s muffled groan reverberates against you. It only encourages you to suckle at the spot you’ve claimed to relish in the salty taste.

You’re so focused on him, it doesn’t register that the music has ceased until you feel your hands guided to your chest. With your fingers still intertwined, Chan helps you knead at the flesh over your tank top. You exhale a satisfied sigh when he makes you cup your breast and squeeze. One hand fondles while the other creeps down the expanse of your torso, tantalizingly slow. You have to face forward and focus on the silhouette of your figures just to try and regulate your breathing.

“Do you know what my favorite instrument to play is?” His voice is velvet in your ear, his mouth hot on the expanse of your skin. A shiver is the only response you can manage.

Teeth nip at the junction where your shoulder and neck meet. There’s so much unabated hunger behind it, the pleasure of sudden pain pools in your gut. Chan gently pushes your thighs apart and forces your fingers to trail up the skin of your thigh. A high-pitched whine falls past your lips as your hands brush over where you need his touch the most. There’s no point in attempting to hide how much you want that sweet friction on you, and he knows it. Your boyfriend chuckles with your flesh still in between his teeth.

“It’s you, baby. You make the prettiest sounds,” his words get lost amongst the sound of your labored breaths. Hips reflexively buck forward to meet where hands hover over your clothed mound and you can feel the wetness through the cotton fabric, already so damp from just his teasing. Chan hums with satisfaction from your undoing, then rewards you with soothing licks to the indents left behind from his bite.

He’s all over you but not close enough. Only thoughts of wrapping your legs around his hips and feeling the weight of his tongue in your watering mouth flood your mind, washing away all traces of doubt and insecurity. He must be thinking the same because there isn’t a speck of resistance when you shift your body around and tackle him onto the carpet. The action is impatient, ravenous, and completely welcomed by your boyfriend if his bruising grip on your waist is any indication. Your eyelids slip shut with the connection of lips, finally slotted together after what felt like a stagnant eternity. One eager lick at the seam of your mouth is all the prompting you need to part your lips and allow him entrance. With each brush against your tongue, tiny spurts of electricity pulsate down to your core.

“Y/N… Miss you so much… It hurts,” Chan’s confession comes out like a pained moan in between sloppy kisses. Something lurches in your chest hearing the rasp in his voice. You pull away just enough to discern the furrow in his brow, the desperation behind his widened brown eyes. He felt it too, didn’t he? Amid the long and grueling hours of work, your boyfriend must have agonized in your absence, just as you did in his. This anguish etched across his features is all the sobering confirmation you need and much more than you can stomach.

Did he genuinely doubt that you missed him too? How utterly unfathomable is that! Yet, It’s not like you’ve done a stellar job expressing your feelings either. Fuck, you’re such a hypocrite, weren’t you just spiraling from the same exact thought? You curse yourself for ever questioning his adoration, and Chan must see the moment guilt flickers in your eyes because his expression turns fearful. How could you be so stupid as to entertain the idea that the most devoted person you know might waver? When he loved, he did so with the entirety of his being, never allowing himself to hold back. His passion was simply too profound to be restrained, especially when it came to the matter of you.

“I miss you too, Channie,” it takes more strength than expected to keep your voice from trembling. “More than I can even articulate.”

A long, hard kiss finds its place at the corner of his mouth. You hope the chaste action will convince Chan of the sincerity of your words. The softened gaze and release of a withheld breath trapped in his throat appear to be signs of success, but there are a few other methods you have in mind to truly prove your infatuation with him; lewd fantasies that flash behind your eyelids practically have you purring.

The back of your hand gently brushes down his face and you feel your eyes crease with adoration for the man underneath you. When your tongue dips back into his mouth, the maneuver is not as rushed as before-–it’s heavier, sensual, and much more calculated. You’re desperate to swallow every one of his whimpers, every response you can solicit with a grind of hips against your boyfriend’s hardened length. Chan threads the hair at the back of your head between his knuckles and pushes your mouths even closer together until he’s literally stealing your breath.

You disconnect to gasp for air in the crook of his neck. It feels like you’re floating, so lightheaded from it all that your brain lags to process the instant he flips you down onto the carpet. His features go uncharacteristically serious as he sits back on his heels in between your splayed thighs.

“I need you–right now,”

Chan’s hands reach for the hem of his shirt and time seems to tick by in slow motion. Fabric bunches in his grasp as he lifts it over his head to reveal the sculpted muscles of his torso. Your gulp is audible when he frees himself from the restraints of his joggers, the head of his cock is glazed with arousal which glistens in the setting sun. You can’t seem to shuffle out of shorts fast enough.

If only you could see the view from above, how drunk in bliss you must appear as Chan peppers wet kisses down your body, discarded clothing littering the floor surrounding your joint forms. Intrinsically, your fingers card through his hair, like the grip on the brunette strands could possibly help you hold on to the bits of composure that are left. His licks at your flesh are slow, messy, and reduce you to a blathering puddle. Whimpers have devolved into tortured whines at this point, but that’s just how he likes it—you can almost feel his crooked smile when he noses past your navel.

“You sound so fucking perfect,” Eyes nearly roll back into your skull in tandem with the flat swipe of his tongue up your entrance. But then Chan leans forward to hover above you again, and a part of you wants to mourn the loss of delicious pressure until his smug grin reminds you the best is yet to come. “And you taste so fucking perfect… I wanna feel how perfect you fit around me.” He teases your folds with the tip of his cock, eyes dancing over your features for signs of discomfort. Any other time you would find the consideration endearing, but you’re fed up with clenching around nothing.

“C’mon babe, show me how much you missed me,” The command comes out more like a hiss, and that revenant look on his face immediately darkens with lust. Your generous lover doesn’t show any hesitation when he sheaths himself in you, and the sudden fullness punches the air out of your lungs. Your brows pinch together from the stretch, but a wild smile grows on you; It's been so long since you had him like this that you feel insane with want. Nails drag up and down the muscles of his back, motivating a wavelike roll of his hips with every new mark that’s made. He’s exquisite with the plush of his lip tucked between his teeth, obviously impacted by the feel of rubbing against your walls.

Chan arches his back and drops his head down to watch himself disappear into you over and over. His cock feels impossibly deep once you angle your pelvis upwards to chase after his movements, and you know he can feel it hit that spongy spot that will have you seeing stars soon. It’s invigorating, this feeling of fucking yourself on his thickness, but it must overwhelm him because it’s all too soon that you’re forcefully pinned down at the waist and rendered immobile.

“So eager,” he chides with a smirk playing at his eyes. “Don’t you want me to last?”

You’ll blame the slip of this filthy admission on being shamefully cock drunk when you replay it in your head tomorrow. No time to be shy now. “I want you fuck me ‘til I black out full of your cum, Bang Chan.”

You can practically see the static whirl in his head until a switch flips. The carnal desire that remained locked away in the name of chivalry is finally unleashed, and exhilaration sets your body ablaze. He says nothing, just stares at you with blown-out pupils as a swift tug brings you flesh against him. The strength of his grip remains unyielding, even as he's buried in you to the hilt, and a silent prayer is made for there to be visible bruises left from where Chan’s fingers dig into your hips. He savors the snug sensation for a moment before rocking his body forward with a gratifying intensity. As each thrust jolts your body further up the floor, the rub of the carpet on your back burns but in the most delectable way. Ceaseless expletives and groans pour out of him with every squelch of your cunt, but in contrast with the pornographic sounds, something much more tender and romantic blooms in the center of your chest. Soon it’s clawing its way up your throat, pricking at your eyes until a cascade of tears dampens the hair around your ears.

“So in love… with you.. with you, with y-you,” your mantra is like fuel to the hot coil that threatens to snap in your stomach. It’s clear you won’t last much longer, but neither will Chan, judging by how fervent and unharmonious his ruts into you have become. As the haze in your vision dissipates, time becomes elusive, suspended between eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. The emerging image you find above finally propels you over the precipice; It’s your lover, his sweat-slicked skin, the keen edges of his beautiful face, illuminated in a light born between waning sunset and encroaching dusk that splinters your heart open. You’re certain this room exists outside of the laws of space and time. That’s how it feels, anyway.

“Clenching s-so tight, baby,” Chan pants onto your lips, trailing right behind you with his eyes sealed in a rapture of pleasure. A few more languid thrusts has him humming with blissful satisfaction.

Within the next minute or century, you coax his body on top of yours with idle caresses smoothed into his lower back. He obliges, resting his cheek between your breasts as he tries to steady his breath to a calmer rhythm. Fingers trace taut muscles before finding their way into the mess of curls at the back of his head, and Chan purrs at the gentle massage you give him, the sound reverberating down into your ribcage. He’s a toasty blanket on you, warmed by a radiant kind of love.

Your mind floats somewhere so giddy and cozy that it requires actual effort to rouse the muscles in your mouth to form words. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I’ve been feeling lately. I missed you terribly, but didn’t want to guilt you into leaving work. I know that’s where you should be.”

The abrupt loss of heat against your skin jolts you back into reality once Chan raises on his elbows to pin you with a stare. “Where I should be, the only place I ever want to be–is with you. It’s where I’m the happiest. It’s where I belong, yeah?” His voice is firm but there is no actual hardness swimming in his brown eyes, only a will for his heartfelt look to convey the honesty in his words. The smile you return is a knowing one, one full of endearment and serenity.

“Now then,” Chan gruffs as he plops himself back down against you. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Delicate fingers weave through his hair once more as you rest your head on the carpet. Your gaze fixates to the ceiling above, where shadows and soft light sway together in a subtle dance. You can't think of anything you would rather do than this, with him.

ᴀ/ɴ :･ hehe haha been workin on this for a minute! please let me know if you enjoyed it. this fic is v much a self indulgent story born from the lyrics "there is nothin like doin nothin with you" from 'Nothing' by Bruno Major.

#skz smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fluff #stray kids scenarios #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #lluna.p.writes #with you b.c

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c4tgvtz · 2 years

Note

How do you think the dorm heads [sorry, idk your character limit is] would react when it came time to send you to your own world? They can be dating or secretly pinning after you, whichever you pick. And thank you for reading =3

🕸 [I shall be web anon, love your writing]

➦Oh oh oh!! This'll be a fun one!! And thank you web anon!! I shall remember you >:))

I planned to write this one properly but it ended up too much for me, so you get a sorta hc list because fucking. Like 7 one shots in the one post is too much//

➳How the housewardens would react to MC going back to their world after pining for months

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

CW: None!

Characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Genre: Mild angst???

Note: Mmm this one’s a little sad

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

➳ 𝙍𝙄𝘿𝘿𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙎

You were… going home?

Riddle would look at you, confused when you first told him. As far as he was concerned, Night Raven College was your home now… but it seemed you didn’t feel the same.

When you tell him, you would be able to see his whole body grow tense, and his eyebrows furrow slightly. He’d look away, trying to process what was just said to him. After taking a breath, he’d look back and put on a smile. “That’s wonderful (MC), I’m glad you’ve finally found a way to return home.”

You could tell that something was off though. Riddle had been… watching you for some time, and though you probably wouldn’t notice, he had found himself falling for you, and those feelings were starting to get more and more intense… he planned to finally ask you out at the weekend but… now?…

You were going to a whole different world, quite literally a universe where riddle didn’t exist, and that terrified the housewarden! But it pushed his courage back down. He couldn’t ask you out now.

The entire time he’s with you he’d be trying to draw out conversation, in a pitiful attempt to spend more time by your side. He’d make you tea, he’d offer to go out for the day to hang out for one last time but… well you were leaving tomorrow. And there was no time for frolicking about in the rose maze or just having a last wander around the campus.

You would be gone.

The emptiness that the thought gave riddle would be one that he was saddled with for likely the rest of his life… at least he’d never forget you…

He’d make sure to personally accompany you to the mirror that led you home, and right before you go through, he’d pull you close in his arms in a desperate, tight hug. All he can muster up to say is: “I’ll miss you (MC)… please… never forget us… never forget me….”

And like that… you were gone.

➳ 𝙇𝙀𝙊𝙉𝘼 𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙍

Tch… good riddance.

When you tell Leona, he’d just spend a moment looking at you. He looks judgemental, as if finding you weird for leaving or something, but that’s just kinda his resting face.

Instead, he’s actually just trying to process what the fuck you just said to him. What, you were going back to ramshackle? Nah, you wouldn’t be this excited. So did you mean, back to where you came from… before NRC? The more he thought about it, the more he remembered. Oh yeah. That’s right…. You’re from a different world. Is that where you were going?

At first Leona didn’t really have much of a reaction, other than a shrug, but the more you started to talk about it, and the more excited you seemed… his tail started to flick behind him, a hint of a snarl pulled at his upper lip ever so slightly, and his little ears bent back.

It was a feeling he had felt before, yet when he felt it with you it made his blood boil. Jealousy. Jealousy for anyone who would try and take you from him in this other world.

…okay yeah. He had sort of developed a bit of a thing for you, it was no big deal. Or at least, it wasn’t until now. His heart genuinely ached in a way that he had never felt before, and for the first time, Leona Kingschollar felt… vulnerable but of course he couldn’t show that, so he simply shrugged it off.

“It’ll be good to see the back of ya.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, though it… felt wrong to say. But he couldn’t muster up the confidence for any sort of apology or retraction of his statement. And seeing the way your face fell a little made him want to tear you apart for taking what he said seriously. But there was no telling with Leona.

He made no attempt to force you to stay, but… in his mind, it was all he could think about. He hated sappy romance and all that bullshit, but there was a part of him that didn’t want you to be his partner, but his mate. And that’s how he knew that he liked you. It wasn’t superficial, it was instinctual and raw…

…he actually wanted you.

There would be a ceremony held for you leaving, and the entire time you’d be able to see and feel those harsh green eyes staring at you from the back of the crowd. It would make you uneasy the whole time, but you’d get on with it anyway.

When you get through, you’d realise that your bag felt heavier than it did when you left, and in it, when you open it, you’d find a glass bottle of sand with a letter attached.

It was from Leona…

The letter would talk about how he couldn’t bring himself to actually say goodbye and that he’ll miss you….. Ruggie wrote it for him after listening to him rant…

At least he does actually care…

➳ 𝘼𝙕𝙐𝙇 𝘼𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙉𝙂𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙏𝙊

You… you can’t leave!

Upon hearing the news, Azul would visibly panic, and immediately start trying to convince you out of it before… realising that his own emotions were slipping through. He’d correct himself, fixing his jacket and clearing his throat. “…Apologies.” Hed hum solemnly. “I wish you the best.” His voice was weirdly empty.

It would be easy to tell that he’s upset. When Azul’s in love, he has very little control over what his mind does, and that’s why he gets so distressed by it, it throws a massive wrench in the gears of his mind and messes with everything, but… he couldn’t just stop it.

Standing with you, alone in the Octavinelle lounge, you’d see him look away as he tries to discern his feelings, figuring out what he should show and what he shouldn’t, but it was too late. You had already seen how he freaked out at just the notion of you leaving, so you put your hand on his shoulder as an attempt to comfort him, and at first he flinches, not expecting the contact, but quickly relaxes and just looks at you.

There’s no way he could tell you. Not now. Not ever… it was his secret and it’ll remain that way. Or at least, he thought so. He seemed to have absolutely no idea that it was incredibly obvious he was head over heels for you. Everyone could see it. You could see it. But no one had the heart to tell Azul that his massive crush on the prefect was painfully clear.

Feeling bad for him, you’d take up his offer to spend the day with him, in which he tries his best to “subtly” convince you to stay. Usually, Azul was a master of persuasion, and just being suave in general. But now that desperation was starting to seep into the housewarden’s actions, he didn’t seem as good at it as he should be. Even he was noticing…

In spending the day with him, he’d give you a proper tour of Octavinelle (as if you don’t already know it inside out), play a few games of chess, and have a meal together at the lounge before the night began to roll in. He was running out of time to convince you, but was also… slowly coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t see you again. It stung, yeah… but things change, and after his overblot, he was starting to accept that more.

His goodbye would be where he breaks, hugging you to see you off, but you’d find that he wouldn’t let go, and after just a moment… he began to cry. “Please… I need to… I…” his words would barely be choked out behind his sobs, before he peels himself back and with his whole body trembling, he’d confess. “I need to tell you… that.. t-that… I… I love you, (MC)…”

Putting a hand up to cup his cheek, you smile, and he looks back at you, terrified, so scared that you’ll make fun of him or berate him for feeling such a way, but rather, you lean in and gently kiss him on the forehead. He stops crying and just. Stares at you as you tell him you love him too, and then leave… for the last time…

His love was returned, yet his lover would never return themselves… so that was it huh?…

➳ 𝙆𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙈 𝘼𝙇-𝘼𝙎𝙄𝙈

T-take me with you!!

Out of everyone, Kalim would be the most emotionally distraught of them all. When you first tell him, he’d gasp and take your hands in his own, practically jumping off the ground. “You’re going home!?” He would sound more excited than you actually were to return. “That’s great (MC)!! You’ve been trying for so long I’m so glad you can finally see all your family and friends again!” For most people, talk like that would appear insincere or sarcastic, but Kalim was just very vocal with his thoughts.

He’d spend the day with you, asking about what your home was like and learning about you with a bright smile the whole time. Though the whole time, something would feel… off, as if he was missing something, but you had explained that you were returning to your own world, so… maybe he was just happy for you?

“I can’t wait to come with you some time!! You need to come back and visit!” He’d chirp while eating lunch with you. And that’s when it hit you. He didn’t realise it was a one-way, one-off trip… it would take a lot to tell him, but after a moment of silence, you’d pipe up and manage to say.

You’d watch as his face slowly falls as you speak, to confusion. “What?” It sounded so genuine, like he didn’t understand why you couldn’t return. “But… is… is it not like a mirror?… like all the other portals?…” his loud, piercing voice began to grow quiet as his expression melted from confusion to sadness. You shake your head.

He seriously takes a moment after that, and it seems like this is the most he’d ever thought about anything between the whole duration of your stay here. And the entire time he was just silent. It even attracted a few gazes from others in the cafeteria.

“So I… won’t see you again?” His voice was empty and shaky, and it seemed like a light had left his eyes as he looked back up to you, his food now completely forgotten. You shake your head again, and as if that were a cue, Kalim’s eyes began to tear up and his bottom lip quivered.

“You… can’t go…” Usually, when Kalim cried, it was loud and snotty and a nightmare to deal with… but this? This was different, his voice was quiet, a wavering whisper, and his body seemed to shake with fear. He put a hand out on the table, palm facing up. Understanding, you’d put your hand in his and try to give a reassuring smile, but he’d just grab your hand a shakily lower his head.

Every movement looked like it was laboured, as he slowly sat up and raised your hand to his face gingerly, and kissed the back of your hand. He’d look into your eyes, desperation in his own. “Please… I want to go with you… but I can’t leave my own family and friends…” and you’d nod, understanding the predicament. You didn’t particularly want to go either, with how close you had gotten with everyone here.

When the next day rolled around and you had to finally say goodbye, kalim would run up to you, crying far harder than he had been before, and you’d just hold him and rest your head on his shoulder as he cries and cries. When he eventually does calm down, you let go and turn to leave, but he says one more thing before you do:

“Hey! (MC)! Tell people in your world about us! A-and I love you!”

➳ 𝙑𝙄𝙇 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙀𝙉𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙏

Oh… I had forgotten about that…

Vil would seem… thoughtful, about the whole situation when you tell him. At first it would seem like he doesn’t believe you at all, but then you’d explain exactly how Crowley managed to find you a way home and he’d feel his heart sink.

So he was loosing you?… he’d just stare off into the distance for a minute before sighing and smiling. “That’s wonderful… though it’s a shame that twisted wonderland will be loosing such a beauty…” he’d raise his hand to brush across your cheek, and though that smile would remain on his face, the pain behind his lilac eyes would be easy to spot.

He’d leave you for the day to get your things ready, though while you’re gone, things would be starting to go to shit in Pomefiore.

Vil would end up stressed and upset, causing him to make rash decisions and lash out at his dorm members, leading Rook to take over in running the dorm while a few of the other juniors helped to calm the housewarden down. After about an hour of that chaos, Vil decided that— if he’s never going to see you again, you’d absolutely need something to remember him by.

Immediately, he’d start to try to put together a gift, a way of showing his love at the last minute and hoping that it would last. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it would make you regret leaving, and make everything harder for you, but it was a thought that he shook off. He couldn’t bring himself to dwell on that too much.

Going through his stuff, he’d manage to find a few things he wanted to give you: a beautiful ornate necklace, one with golden charms going down it and a small fake vial of purple liquid as the main charm, a full bottle of his favourite perfume, and a book. It was a book he had memorised inside an out, though it was very dear to him. It was a book of poison recipes.

His only hope was that all of this was enough of a goodbye for you… he put it all in a box, wrapping it neatly and sticking a red bow on the top corner. It looked beautiful, as was customary for a gift from Vil Shoenheit.

He’d spend a while wondering to himself if he should just give it to you and wish you well, or also tell you his feelings. After deliberating that for a while, he decided on a compromise. A love letter would do nicely… So with that in mind, he spent the rest of the night writing out his feelings to you the best he could.

Truth be told, he had always been intrigued by you, but it was only now that you were leaving did he realise just how much he… liked you. Like didn’t quite cut it… no he loved you… and that scared him honestly, which was why he had never even really processed that he did until now, when you were slipping from his reach. He knew there was no way to convince you to stay or to go with you… so this would be his last grand gesture to you.

The day had came. It was pretty late now, and you had spent the whole day saying goodbye to everyone, but Vil was last, and instead of finding him, it was him that came to you, with a beautifully wrapped box in his hands, and a small envelope on top. “Don’t open it all until you’re home safe.” He’d sigh, an odd, unfamiliar affection in his voice. “This is the last time I’ll get to see you…” he sounded regretful as he spoke, leaning in to plant a kiss against your cheek. “But I promise you, it won’t be the last I think of you.”

“I just know you’ll make your world far more beautiful when you’re back…”

➳ 𝙄𝘿𝙄𝘼 𝙎𝙃𝙍𝙊𝙐𝘿

If you’re looking for a reaction, you’re not getting one…

“Y-you really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

The first words Idia said after you told him you were leaving were… jarring. You look at him, confused and a little hurt, but he seems more defensive than anything else. “Look I know you’re j-just trying to embarrass me! Or get me to act all sappy towards you! It’s not happening.” He’d cross his arms and turn away.

Hurt, that one of your good friends wouldn’t believe you on some of the biggest news of your life, you’d leave. But Idia wasn’t trying to be mean, or defensive… he just didn’t want to believe it.

After being with you for so long he had quickly grown to love you. You were the only person other than other that was able to put up with him. You were sweet and kind and pretty and the perfect partner for him… but he didn’t deserve you, you were far too good for him in his mind.

Looking in the mirror, he’d sigh. But that’s when news would get to him… other people were talking about you going home… what? Idia couldn’t believe it. It was real?… you weren’t lying?… now he felt even worse. His stomach turned and his heart dropped straight down into it, and all he could do was just sit on his bed and stare at the wall.

Is this what everything had came to? He had tried to make the right choices! He was sure that he was on the path to the good ending! All the signs were there, and it even seemed like you were starting to show interest in him!…

…no you weren’t. He was being delusional. At least that’s what he told himself. Why would someone like you ever fall for him? He was a complete shut in, an asshole, ignorant, and now? Now he had personally hurt you. What was he worth anyway.

Lying on his bed, he pulled his legs up to his chest, tears pricking his eyes and the ends of his hair flicking red. Of course this wasn’t the good ending, he was a total screw up. This was the worst ending possible, it was so bad that… he had forgotten it was one he could get… you were leaving forever… game over I guess…

The rest of his day would be spent alone, crying in his bed. He’d sent Ortho away to go… do whatever… as long as he wasn’t near him to see his spiral, because things only got worse from there. He couldn’t even bring himself to eat anything for dinner.

Ortho, though he was concerned, wanted to respect Idia’s wishes, so he stayed out of their room until it was late at night and Idia was asleep. It was a good thing he had no idea that he had cried so hard he had sort of just… passed out…

You were standing at the portal. The next day had came, but Idia hadn’t. You wanted to go and say goodbye to him, but time was running out and the portal would close if you weren’t through fast enough. So… no goodbye…

Idia still hadn’t left his room. He didn’t plan to. What’s the point in forming bonds if they always break…

➳ 𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙀𝙐𝙎 𝘿𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙄𝘼

Leaving?… so soon?

To Malleus, your departure from the school would come as quite the surprise. Though he himself helped Headmage Crowley to find you a way home, he never expected it to be so soon. It had only been about a year, and in the grand scheme of Malleus’s lifetime? That was nothing. To him, it felt like you had only been here a few days.

You were an odd little child of man. He had never really known where you had came from, nor had anyone else, but what he did know was that he didn’t want you to return. He wanted to study you more, and keep you close. He had grown possessive, though you were just friends.

He had strong feelings towards you, which was why he looked so hurt when you told him you were leaving. He wasn’t the only one upset, but it felt like it to him. He tried to brush it off, after all, you were just some human that would barely live a fraction of his lifespan… yet… it was hard to think of you that way.

He’d put his hand on your shoulder and look at you with a rather harsh expression across his sharp features. “I don’t want you to go.” He’d state plainly, making you shift under his gaze and step back. You’d tell him that you’d like to stay, but you have a life away from here that you’d like to get back to. His expression would stay the same.

Being a dragon in love was complicated. Especially if the person you were in love with wasn’t also a dragon or fae of any kind. If that was the case, they saw you as part of a hoard, something beautiful and precious that only belonged to them, and that they must protect with their life.

You were that person to Malleus.

After a decently confusing and… annoying conversation about how you had to return home, Malleus let up and retuned go Diasomnia to let you do your weird human things. He didn’t really know what you were up to.

As he often did whenever Malleus had any grievances, Lilia seemed to show up out of the blue to talk to the housewarden. He asked him what had happened and he relayed the conversation you had had with him. He seemed to understand what he was going through, and gave him the best advice he could:

“Malleus, many people who you care about are going to walk through your life, it’s your job to make the most of their presence while you can, spend as much time as you can with them before they go. I can promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

So he took that to heart, and at the crack of morning the next day, Malleus was at the door of ramshackle, looking for you.

When you answer he insisted that you spend the day with him before you had to leave, and that you did. He helped to pack up the last of your things and mostly followed you around for the rest of the day until it came to your departure.

“Farewell, (MC). May we meet again in another walk of life… my love…”

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ihavemanyhusbands · 9 months

Note

can you write something where reader goes to the bear on a date w some asshole who turns out stood you up and made you seem like an idiot for sitting there alone waiting for him to show up for nearly an hour all the while Richie aka FOH rockstar is constantly checking in on you and fuming inside bc how could anyone be so fucking mean and rude to such a perfect girl?!? You end up staying anyways cause you know this reservation was hard to get and you’re not gonna let the restaurant loose money but also obv you’re not gonna leave without trying the food hello…but also cause Mr. FOH rockstar in the nice suit is vvvv charming and you wanna know all about him…..And Richie ends up comping your whole meal and giving you extra dessert <3 and maybe you leave your number on a napkin for him idk

I just know S2 Richie would be such an angel omg ❤️

——

Richie made no comment as he poured you a second glass of wine. He saw you glance at your phone and how your face fell a little at the lack of notifications.

He looked at the empty chair across from you and shook his head just a little in disbelief. You hadn’t ordered anything yet and it had been over an hour since you’d gotten there.

He hated seeing you looking so dejected, especially since he’d already seen your smile directed at him a few times. You seemed so hopeful at the beginning of the night, a lively gleam in your eye.

He’d been extra attentive with you, but tried not to seem too overbearing. The more time passed, the more your shoulders slumped. At some point, you stopped glancing at the front entrance.

He had the biggest urge to punch whatever motherfucker had stood you up and curse him out for being so ungrateful. But instead, he gave you a small smile as you thanked him for the wine, and he decided he was going make sure that the rest of your night was better.

"You know, the chef's special tonight is not one you want to miss," he said, drawing your interest. "An impeccable short rib ragu with pappardelle and pecorino Romano. Pairs real well with what you're drinking, actually."

Your stomach grumbled at his description of the food. You'd been eyeing the dishes people had ordered around you, but you'd denied yourself all of it while you waited. You sighed in resignation, mustering your best smile for him, grateful for his generous attention.

"That sounds lovely, I'll definitely get that," you said, trying to ignore how your eyes were stinging. “Thank you.”

Again, he felt a stab of hatred for that stronzo. He now also felt the urge to kneel down in order to be eye level with you, so he might wipe your tears away if they fell. But of course, there was no way he could fucking do that.

“Comin’ right up,” he said with a wink, striding back into the kitchen.

When he returned, he stalled until you took your first bite so he could see your reaction. Your eyes widened as you hummed in the delight, momentarily forgetting everything else.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” He smiled.

“Oh my God,” you agreed with a nod, smiling a little more genuinely. “You were so right.”

“Only the best of the best for you,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

You couldn’t help but blush at his words, glancing at his retreating form. You chowed down with gusto, occasionally looking up and meeting his eye across the room. You had to admit he was very handsome, not to mention charming.

You appreciated the fact that he had been so kind to you. Sure, maybe it was all part of his job, but the interest felt genuine to you. Maybe getting stood up wasn’t the worst thing in the world, wounded ego aside.

He brought out a special dessert that he confided was not on the menu, and once more he made your skin tingle slightly with a wink.

By the time you finished, you felt much better than you had in the past two hours. You waved him over to ask for the bill, but he shook his head.

“No bill tonight,” he said, placing a hand against his chest. “It’s all on me.”

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused. “I mean I— I just… really?”

He chuckled. “Yes, of course. As long are you are satisfied and content, that’s all that matters here.”

You blinked, then laughed a little incredulously.

“More than that. I think this might be my new favorite restaurant,” you said. “Do you have pen and paper?”

He pulled out a small notepad and a pen from his back pocket, handing it to you. You wrote down your name and phone number, then doodling five stars underneath.

“I hope this isn’t too forward,” you said coyly, handing it back to him.

“N-not at all,” he beamed, his cheeks growing redder. “I was actually hoping you would.”

——

#richie jerimovich fanfiction #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich blurb #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader

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i-wanna-die-like-now · 7 months

Text

Day 13: Stiches!

So I decided to add a short fix for this prompt because I couldn't draw my idea in a day.

Jazz moved down the stairs slowly, almost robotically, if she was more aware of her surroundings maybe she would have noticed she was getting the blood from her hands all over the clean walls that she used for support or that the blood that covered her clothes was dripping onto the steps and soaking into her socks leaving bloody footprints after her. But she didn't notice, her mind had shut down and detached from her body, it had been that way for a while now. She knew what it meant and she knew it was in response to- she knew what it was in response to.

It's for the better.

She tells herself as she finally reaches the bottom of the stairs.

It'll be easier.

Jazz couldn't tell if she actually believed that or was just trying to comfort herself, nothing about the situation was easy.

The living room is empty, it took her a while to notice the TV playing the end credits to the film her parents had clearly just finished. Their small chatter drifted out of the kitchen, it made her feel sick that they sounded so happy, however, the laugh that burst out of her mother made something deeper churn in her chest.

How dare she laugh after what she did. How could she still smile and act like nothing had happened?

By the time Jazz reached the kitchen doorway her hands were shaking.

Her parents' screams sounded far away to her ears, Danny's screams echoed in her mind, his were far more haunting. The memory of his cries of pain and sobbing brought her attention back to her parents and the matter at hand. Their horrified faces morph into panic as they make a move to get closer, maybe they were trying to comfort her or maybe they thought she was injured.

Jazz couldn't tell.

It didn't matter.

"Don't touch me." The words were odd on her tongue, heavy in her mouth, she wondered if she had even said them at all or if she had imagined it. It hadn't felt like she had but her parents' expressions and body language showed that she did in fact voice it, they were both pulled back like they had been slapped.

Good.

"Jazzy?" Her Da- Jack's usually booming voice was quiet and soft, timid. It didn't suit his large frame, but Jazz felt herself grow angry at that. A seething anger that pulled her mind back into the present, her body heaved in a huge breath and for the first time in the last three hours Jazz felt it.

She suddenly felt hyper-aware of the blood that clung to her skin, her shirt was drenched and sticking to her frame in a way that made her feel sick.

Just how much blood had Danny lost? How much did he lose before she found him?

How much had he lost while they cut into him?

A rough scream rips out of her throat, she felt it more than heard it. Her throat burned, it had been burning since her first scream of the night, at finding her brother- it was almost a relief for Jazz to be able to feel it again. Or it would have been if she also didn't have to feel the emotions that came with it.

All she could muster out was a broken "Don't fuck-ing call me that." She hates that her voice breaks, that she's showing them how vulnerable she feels. She needs to stand her ground. Slamming her hand against the doorframe Jazz lets out a sneer and puffs out her chest in mock confidence.

"You don't have the right to call me that. Not anymore." As painful as it was, Jazz put one foot in front of the other and made her way to the lab's door, it was closed.

It wasn't often the lab's door was closed, even when they had been building the portal it had usually stayed open, Jazz had spent months beating herself up for that after Danny's accident. The self-loathing doubled when she found out he had died.

She was supposed to protect him.

Without thinking too much into it Jazz rips open the door, she had to get rid of that stupid portal for good. Ignoring the shocked gasp from Jack and angry yelling from Maddie as she stares into the basement where her parents had spent her whole childhood. Where her parents had built the thing that killed her baby brother and made the weapons they used to hurt him. To catch him. To tie him down and-

The lights were off but that didn't matter because the portal was illuminating the lab. She made her way down the steps quickly only to be stopped by a tug on her arm.

"Jazz! What do you think you're doing, it's dangerous, get back here!" Maddie's hand locked onto her and pulled her back, the blood that was soaked into her socks caused Jazz to slip and fall down the last few steps and out of her grasp.

"Jazz!"

Maddie's voice sounded distorted to her ears as she took in the sight of the lab from the floor, the green glow lighting up the metal surfaces, the portal was closed.

Her hand curled into a fist as the metal table that sat almost in the middle of the room came into focus, ectoplasm coated the surface and the tools they had used lay scattered on the ground. She could hear her parents talking but none of the words reached her.

This is where they did it.

"This is where you did it."

Why?

"Why."

"Jazz what are you talking about, come on let me help you get up, are you okay? You're covered in-in.." Jack trails off.

"Blood." She finishes for him.

There had been so much blood, she hadn't know what to do. With that much, she knew the wound was too deep to leave alone, no matter how much he protested, no matter how much he tried to convince her he would "heal in no time".

She didn't know what she had been expecting when she lifted his shirt, maybe a burn or a gash.

Jack pulled her into his arms to help her stand, worry pulling on his features as Jazz stared ahead, her face drained of all colour.

"Oh! Jazzy-pants don't you worry about that-"

Danny's skin was cold, far too cold for what's considered normal for humans but he's half ghost so surely it's normal… surely that's a good thing his core is ice, maybe it was healing him-

"You have to tell us what's going on, Jazz please talk to u-"

She had a med kit under her bed, she had helped him out with plenty of injuries before so why was he being so reluctant to let her help-

"For god sake Jasmine!"

Snapping her eyes over to Maddie Jazz takes a step back and then another, and another.

She had came down here to get rid of the thing that killed her brother, she hadn't been expecting to see the evidence of what they had done to him laying out in plain sight.

"You're evil, you- Fuck. How could you even do that to another living thing!" The confusion was clear on their faces but Jazz was already reaching for the Anti-Creep stick that was leaning against the wall, anger bubbling over. "You've always been this way, I don't know how I didn't see it sooner, I really should have. I should have known Danny wasn't safe to be around you, he was so sure that you would be okay with it in time."

"Jazz what are you-" Jazz cuts Jack off as she slams the bat into one of the bazookas they had hanging up on display. The metal sparks and crashes to the ground drowning out her parents' screams of panic and surprise.

"All these inventions." She lifts the bat above her head and swings it down to crush the rest of it. "Of course, he wasn't safe!" Her throat burned even more as her voice got louder. "He was never safe, I should have seen it years ago, oh god how couldn't I see it!"

Jazz's voice borders on hysterical as she swings the bat again, this time breaking some beakers that were laying out.

"You never cared for him, you never cared for me!" Voice breaking Jazz feels her tears boil over.

"Jasmine! Stop it, what are you doing? Jack stop her!" Maddie's voice was tight as she ordered Jack.

"Mads what am I-"

"Fucking try!" Jazz screams over Jack, swinging the bat towards her father, her tears burn.

"Jazz I can't, please just, I can't-" He looked so weak, his eyes were bloodshot and his eyelids looked weighed down. He needed to stay awake.

"You have to try, god damn it Danny fucking try!" She was using a sewing needle, a fucking sewing needle, to sew him back together. It was bending. Her hands wont stop shaking. Pulling them back she wipes the blood off and onto her shirt quickly before getting back into position, using her fingers she pulls the skin together, wiping her hands did nothing. She redies the bent needle with her other hand.

Danny lets out a pained whimper as she forces the needle through his skin again, pulling it through the gaping wound on his stomach and pulling the thread tight.

She can see his organs.

She repeats the motion.

Eyes wild and face pulled into a scowl she keeps the bat pointed at them.

"You've spent your life on this lab, on your research!" She spits the word as if it were something disgusting. "That blood came from a living breathing person!"

"Jazz please calm down, that's ectoplasm, it's not blood." Maddie uses a tone she does often, the condescending edge she gets whenever Jazz brings up the psychology of ghosts. "I assure you that no living thing was harmed."

Although her hands were raised in a surrendering gesture she held herself confidently.

Jazz's tongue felt heavy, her body boiling as her anger reached its peak, she didn't even think twice before swinging the bat at their other inventions.

The inventions they made to harm her brother.

The row of guns spark and crash as she beats them with the bat, lifting it above her head she forces it down again and again until she was sure they were unusable.

"These always came first, your inventions or research or experiments!" After one last swing of the bat Jazz leans down and catches her breath, her voice breaking as she lowers it to a whisper. "Sometimes I wonder if you knew all along and were just toying with him." She looks over her shoulder, her parents' forms blurred by her tears. "and the sick part is I'm still not even sure."

"Jazz honey what are you talking about? Please put the Anti-Creep stick down and talk to me, were your parents-" Jack has his arm out, reaching for her with a pained expression.

"You were his parents too!" Jazz screeches. "Although parents is a reach, I was his parent! I raised him, I cooked for him! I held him at night when he had nightmares! I'm the one that had to fix him!" She couldn't see through her tears, she couldn't hear from the rushing of blood in her ears. The only thing she could see was her brother laying down as he sobbed, covered in blood and holding his own organs in with his hands while she took a sewing needle to his skin to stitch him back together.

She wanted to rush back to him but first, she needed to destroy the rest of the lab, the portal.

At least she would have if it wasn't for Jack wrapping his huge arms around her body and lifting her into the air.

"Jazz please calm down, talk to us, you're not making any sense!"

"Exactly Jasmine! You're spouting nonsense and destroying our work!" Maddie's voice cuts into her, it causes her chest to burn. Letting out an animalistic scream she kicks and thrashes around in Jack's arms.

"You cut into him! You fucking monsters, your work killed him!" Jazz couldn't help the sob that tore its way out of her throat. "He thought you'd get better! He always had faith in you and you used that knife and ripped him open!"

She could feel Jack go stiff, his arms loosening around her as he let out a puff of air.

"I had to stitch him back together just like I've been stitching this family back together for years! Because that's exactly what I've been doing and I hate myself for it! If I didn't spend my life stitching everything together then maybe he wouldn't have died!" Finally, her thrashing caused her to be dislodged from Jack's arms, she made quick work of shoving him away and getting past her now pale mother and towards the portal.

It only took a few perfectly aimed swings to render it useless.

"Jazzy-"

"He died trying to fix this portal for you."

"Phantom he-" Maddie paused, looking over at Jazz with an expression she had never worn before. "He's a ghost honey-" Jazz's bitter laugh silenced both of them.

"Half."

She could tell by the horror on Jack's face that he understood, she knew Maddie did too. Maybe she was in denial.

She needs to call Vlad, he would let them stay with him for a while if she explained the situation.

"If you had even cared slightly about Danny you would have seen the signs, it didn't take me long to figure it out and I'm not a ghost expert." Jazz drops the bat on the ground, stepping over it to make her way back upstairs, ignoring the yells of her parents as she slams the lab door closed. Locking it for good measure.

She feels the numbness of before washing over her as she picks up the house phone and dials Vlads number.

#artists on tumblr #digital art #danny phantom #danny phantom fandom #digital doodle #danny phantom fanart #danny phantom angst #danny phantom one shot #danny phantom fic #jazz fenton #tw gore #tw mentions of gore #tw mentions of death #inktober #goretober 2023

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inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

Wind Me Up

pairing: riri ✘ plussize!black!fem!reader

summary: riri williams drives you insane, mostly because you always lose to her academicly. being partners on an assignment can only make things much worse, you're sure. (requested)

contains: fluff, cute fun academic rivalry, reader is a snobby, rich, overdramatic perfectionist (maybe riri likes that), twinge of suggestive behavior

word count: 3840

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: i had too much fun writing this. might just be me projecting my love for snobby girls who are mean to me oops. hope those who requested like the way it turned out! enjoy <333

You grinned down at your test, squinting your eyes and tilting your head to make sure you were reading it correctly. And indeed you were. Ninety-nine. That’s what it read, and the pride that swam through you was electrifying. Highest grade you’d gotten all semester. Your professor was an intense grader, harsher than most, so to score this high was one of your greatest accomplishments. Being the perfectionist you were, odd numbers would usually throw you off, but not this one.

You could not rip your eyes away from the paper before you. Telling your mother later, after weeks of complaints about how Dr. Hanson had it out for you, would be the most satisfying feeling. Nothing could ruin your shine right now.

“Ninety-nine. That’s Cute.” Except maybe that; her.

Exhaling on a heavy sigh, you turned to face her, “What do you want, Williams?”

“So I can’t congratulate you on your lil ninety-nine?” Her lips curled into a smug smile and it took all the restraint you could muster not to carve her eyeballs out with your pen. The familiar feeling of burning irritation began climbing the back of your neck, talons digging deep.

“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous.” You felt a jolt of confidence then, straightening your posture and eyeing her up and down. Riri was wearing a random band t-shirt and jeans, with a pair of Nike Dunks. The jeans hugged her curves well, but the rest of her outfit was just so very… basic. You would never be caught dead in anything similar to what she wore.

Her laugh was even more infuriating than her smile, and your eye roll was unavoidable. “And why would I be jealous of somebody with a lower grade than me? You crack me up, you know that?” Riri lifted her own test into eye view, and sure enough, she had gotten a one hundred. Said it right there in red. Red, what a multifaceted color you thought. Many things were red: the numerical value of both of your grades, the spots you were beginning to see the longer Riri dangled her test in your face, and of course: blood.

That restraint you were so desperately clinging to was slipping swiftly from your grasp. You imagined smacking her, were your rings sharp enough to draw blood? Of course Riri got a hundred. And of course her first move was to throw it in your face. God she made your skin crawl.

All your life, you’d been the best at any and everything you did. Things just came naturally to you, but apparently they came even more naturally to Riri. You’d never admit it out loud, if you did you would probably have to commit heinous crimes to keep it from getting out, but she was better than you; quicker, slicker.

Being second best was not something you handled well. Being second best to Riri’s first, that tangled with your mental stability.

“Having one point more than me does not mean what you think it means, Williams.” You narrowed your eyes, attempting to appear intimidating and unbothered.

Her bright smile blew you back, and you almost faltered, almost. “Trying to make yourself feel better about losing by convincing yourself that a lower grade is better than a perfect one? Damn that’s pathetic as hell.”

“I hope you know, no matter what you do, you’ll always be beneath me.” You growled, your anger evident in every syllable. Fuck restraint.

“And I hope you know, no matter how hard you try, your grade will always be beneath mine. Ima see you later, Two.” Riri smirked at you before leaving the class entirely. You swallowed a scream as you watched her leave. You hated it when she called you that, so obviously she made it a point to do it often.

Your treacherous eyes trailed to her butt and you cursed them, willing them to focus on the issues at hand. You huffed in attempts to calm yourself, and began gathering your things to head back to your apartment. Tomorrow was a new day, and “new days breed new possibilities.” Your grandmother’s mantra was something you held on very tightly to after meeting Riri Williams.

Though the only possibilities your days bred were those that would lead to you beating Riri’s ass at some point before the semester was over. Violence may not be ladylike in the eyes of your gracious grandmother, but grandmother does not know you go to school with the devil herself.

•••

After slipping on your stockings and tweed skirt, you smoothed it down. You slid your feet into your black Louboutins gracefully, then pulled on your matching blazer.

Your high puff looked elegant with your edges laid and plaid headband sitting patiently on top. Really pulled the whole look together. One last once over in your full length mirror, admiring the way your thick thighs and wide hips were framed in your outfit, then you grabbed your bag and headed off.

Most of your classes were a breeze, the ones she wasn't in, to be specific. Your hand shot into the air like a rocket with every question your professors directed to the class. The audible groans and death glares you received from your peers only egged you on more. Shining in an academic environment always put you in the best mood.

But alas, all good things must come to an end, all highs must become lows. And sitting in your chemistry class with the demon spawn herself was the lowest of all lows. You sat in your usual seat, last row, smack dab in the center so you could see everyone in the room.

“Nice shoes. They look new. Bet daddy bought those to cheer you up after coming in second to me, again.” Riri’s graining voice echoed in your ears right on schedule.

“We mustn't comment on things we can't afford, Williams.” You propped your elbows on the table, holding your pencil at point and eraser. Refusing to look at her, you let a smirk climb to your lips.

You could tell your comment struck her right where you intended it to. It took her longer to snap back than usual, exactly thirty-two seconds longer. “Daddy's money can't fix everything. It definitely ain't fixing that forehead.”

She chuckled at your shock and walked to her seat two rows down. “Oh that was real mature!” She'd never commented on your appearance before and you certainly did not expect it. Was there something wrong with your forehead? No one's ever mentioned it being abnormal or unusually large. If there was an issue, grandmother would've said something.

Your professor entered the class and you tried to focus on her lesson, but you’d be lying if you said that forehead comment wasn't rattling around in your brain.

“Okay, so in order for a molecule to be considered inorganic, what must it not contain?” Your hand was in the air then, reaching for the ceiling. Only half a second after Riri’s. You blew out a gust of air as you felt your left eye begin its inevitable twitching.

It was alright. It was only one question and there would be many more. You steadied your breathing, trying to remain as calm as possible, class had only just begun.

But class went exactly how it always went: Dr. Hanson asked a question, you raised your hand, Riri beat you to the punch, she received all the glory, and you were stuck biting down on the inside of your cheek until it bled.

“Last question before I give you your assigned partner for your lab. How many elements of unsaturation are present for a molecule with this formula?” She turned her back to the class as she scribbled on the board and your hand was up before she finished.

When she turned around, and spotted your fingers wiggling above you, her smile was genuine as she pointed to you and you returned it. “The answer is five. Five molecules.”

“I'm sorry, but that's incorrect. Anyone else wanna take a stab at it?” Embarrassment surged through you. Your ears grew hot with shame. Public humiliation was something you enjoyed quite a lot, but never had you been the one to light the match on yourself.

Riri cleared her throat in a rather obnoxious way before she spoke, “I'm sure what my intelligent classmate meant to say, was four. There are four elements of unsaturation present in that molecule. I can list them if you want.” And she did; list them. She turned to shoot you a wink. You snapped your pencil then and it was loud enough to shush the class.

Her stupid smirk was evident even with her back turned. You wondered what would happen if you went down there, grabbed her by the ends of her braids, and swung her small body around like a lasso. Expulsion probably, and Riri was petty enough to press charges. If she found herself coherent enough when you were finished with her, that was.

“Before you leave, make sure you check the board for your assigned partners.”

Riri reached the board before you, because of course she did. When she turned around her grin was as sinister as they came. “It's your lucky day Two, you get to work with someone who actually understands the course material. You should be grateful!” She poked your stomach and it swiveled from the contact. Strange.

“You are deathly unfunny, Williams.” There was absolutely no way in hell Dr. Hanson made the two of you partners. No way. But there it was, yet again in red. You were never a fan of irony.

Riri watched the color drain from your face and your eye’s erratic twitching. She found the whole thing amusing.

Your annoyed grunt sent her into a theatrical fit of laughter. “You know where my room is, we can start tonight. I'll catch you later, Two.”

You stomped your foot and stormed out of the class with no sense of direction, you just needed to be far away from her for as long as you could drag it out. This assignment would certainly cause you to break out in stress hives.

•••

You paced back and forth outside of Riri’s door hugging a bowl of muffins. Knocking would be smart, but knocking would mean you accepted this reality and you did not. You had gone home and stress baked two dozen muffins and three cakes that you had no intentions to consume. Thankfully, your neighbors were home and gladly took some off your hands. And then you found yourself packing some up to bring to Riri’s.

Yet here you were, unable to bring your fist to the door. The students on her floor probably thought you were a lunatic, and they wouldn’t be too far off with that assumption. Just as you were about to knock, the door swung open and there stood Riri.

“Bruh, you gotta chill. I just got like seven messages saying there was some weird girl in heels outside my door pacing. You drawing too much attention to me.”

She grabbed your wrist and pulled you into her room. The feeling of her fingers on your bare skin brought back that silly little swivel from earlier, the one you decided to ignore completely.

It took you a minute to fully process what was going on. Not only were you still in disbelief about having to work with her, being in her room when she was dressed like that certainly did not help the situation. Riri had on short pajama bottoms, very short. Could they even be considered pants? No. You’d decided, and that was final. She was braless under her tank top and the material was fairly see through.

Your mind was spinning at the sight of her, something that has never happened for the duration of time you’d known her. Sure you’d checked her out from time to time, but you were only human. This was… you did not know what this was. You were brought out of your trance by the snapping of fingers in your face, Riri’s fingers. The annoyance you felt then reminded you exactly why you never went past casual glances at her body.

“Don’t snap your fingers at me, are you crazy? I’m not a damn pet.” You scoffed and made your way to her kitchenette. You ran your fingers along the small counter before rubbing them together. Everything was very sticky, you were not fond of sticky.

“What? My room not boujee enough for you?” She leaned back against her desk and crossed her arms. Her eyes stalked your body before coming to a very alarming stop at your chest. Her gaze on you was filled with something you didn’t understand, nor did you want to.

You cleared your throat, popping the bowl of muffins down on the counter, “Dorm life is certainly… a choice. Not one I would make but, hey you are not me.”

“If I had to be you for even a minute, I wouldn’t make it. Especially after you embarrassed yourself in class today, whew. My ego couldn’t take that. Nah.” What an insufferable little woman she was. She had no idea that her welcoming you to her room like this could lead to her own demise. Naïve. In the worst way for sure. If only she realized how many times you’d fantasized about wringing her neck.

“Can we just get started on this stupid assignment so I can leave this quaint little room of yours?” You looked around in disgust and she rolled her eyes before pushing off the desk.

Riri walked over to where you stood and stopped directly in front of you. For someone significantly shorter and smaller than you, her stare was intense. But your own stare was vehement; unshakeable. The two of you stood there for longer than necessary, glaring at each other with immense disdain. Riri broke first and you smirked. Victory.

“These for me?” She pointed to the muffins you brought and you nodded. “Feeding me Two? Don’t let me get the wrong idea about this.”

Your brows furrowed, “And what idea would that be, Williams?”

She moaned and licked her lips after biting into your muffin. You smiled a little at her reaction, validation in any form always had that effect on you, even coming from your nemesis. “You can just call me Riri, you know, like a normal person.”

“Calling you by your first name would imply that we were acquaintances or something. We are nothing of the sort. Now can we please get started on the assignment? If I’m here any longer I’m gonna start to itch.”

She scoffed at your remark, making her way over to her messy desk. Did tidiness mean nothing to this girl? “I meant what I said earlier Two, you should be grateful you got me as your partner. I already did the work. You’re welcome.”

“And you can understand why I would wanna check it over right? Seeing as my name is gonna be on it when it’s turned in.”

She laughed, “You just don’t know when to stop do you? Chill bro, you know how many people been begging me to do this lab for them? You’re getting a free hundred, just take it.”

You studied over her work, gagging at her atrocious handwriting. Something caught your eye then. It couldn't be. But it was, it so gloriously was. An error, small, but an error all the same. Significant enough that it called for a reworking of the entire thing. A full blown, tooth shattering grin broke through your face, dimples popping.

“See man, I told you. My work is perfect.” She thought your smile was about acknowledging a job well done on the assignment, how cute.

The thrill you felt from the thought of bursting her bubble and burning her to the ground was magnificent. “Au contraire. You made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” She was at your side in an instant, eyes traveling every line on the paper.

You nodded frantically, “See here how you got seven? It's supposed to be five. And seeing as you used the same formula for every question…”

“That means the whole thing is wrong.” She pulled the paper from your grip, still in disbelief.

“Yup! Exactly! That's correct. I mean, you saying the whole thing is wrong is correct, not your actual work. Your work is actually very not correct.” You giggled victoriously and clapped your hands as she sat down at her desk.

Riri sighed, “Bruh, can you come over here and help me? Stop acting like a kid.”

“Sorry. But you’re so very wrong.” You beamed over at her. The frustration on her face was sweeter than candy.

“Come here. Now.” Agitation coated her words and you found yourself needing to obey them. You got on your knees beside her and began explaining her mistake. Riri was surprisingly receptive to being corrected and taught, she took instruction well. When you got to the last few problems, she insisted on doing them on her own and you let her. You smiled when she got it correct.

“See what a little listening and paying attention can get you? I mean I would not have made that mistake, but everyone has to start from somewhere I guess.” Her eyes found your lips as you spoke and she smirked. She let them flutter up to your own brown ones and you held your breath. Something in the room cracked a little, and it startled you.

“I’m not gonna lie Two, I like this little back and forth we got going on.” The emotion pooled in her eyes was one you knew well; lust. And it scared the living shit out of you.

You bit your bottom lip, glancing at her timidly, “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Your blood rushed. How could a simple word like 'yes' get you flustered? How was Riri Williams making you flustered? Witchcraft was at play, there was no other explanation.

Your voice came out higher than usual, and suddenly your blazer was way too tight. Your knees hurt from kneeling on the floor for too long, but you made no effort to stand. “And why’s that?”

“Maybe I like pushing your buttons.” The low rasp of her tired voice was enough to set you on fire. Words, you needed words. But sadly, none came. Riri chuckled, aware of what her words were doing to you. “Like right now, you’re so worked up you can’t even speak. It’s cute.”

You blinked slowly at her, “You think I’m cute, Williams?”

“Very.” The breath you inhaled got lodged in your throat. The thumping in your chest centered all of your emotions, you were enjoying the way she looked at you like she craved you.

Riri’s expression let you know she was ready to devour you like she did your muffin. It made your head spin, and she took note of that too. The ache growing between your thighs was not something you could ignore any longer.

Your head dipped to the carpet in her room and Riri snaked her index finger under your chin, “Don’t go getting all shy on me now. Look at me.” And you did. Her eyes twinkled like stars and you were surprised you never noticed their shine before. You supposed plotting her untimely death was the reason for that.

“I don’t understand. If you think I’m so cute, why haven’t you said so before?”

“Now look who’s not paying attention. Like I said, I like challenging you.” She preened.

Your eye twitched then, “But you don’t challenge me, you best me. I do not enjoy being bested.”

“So you admit I’m better than you. I already knew that, but it’s nice to hear. Besides, I’m sure the only time you don’t like being bested, is in the classroom.”

Your scoff was loud and alarming, and so was your blush, “What does that mean?”

Her words were almost an inaudible whisper, “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

They pulled you in, and before you knew it her lips covered yours. That crack in the room spread and shattered everything around you. Her lips were softer than you anticipated and they clogged your mind. She moved her mouth skillfully against your own as she stood up from her chair.

The move made you do the same, but neither of you dared to break the kiss, too many emotions were entangled in it to allow that. Her hand traveled down your sides, cupping your curves and rolls until she reached your ass. She squeezed and you yelped, causing her to giggle into the kiss.

Riri’s hands grazed your large thighs and she signaled for you to hop onto her desk, “Up.” You followed her instruction and she placed herself in between your legs. Her lips peppered warm pecks along your throat as she wrapped a fist around it. You moaned into her touch as you threw your head back.

She seemed to really like the sounds you were making for her as her lips trailed lower and lower on your chest. “Is this okay?” You nodded when she kissed your cleavage.

“Words Two, use your words.” Her tongue slid between your breasts and you shivered.

“Yes, it’s perfect.” Your whimper was soft and needy.

“That’s my girl.” Her lips found yours again and you kissed her with force, surprising her. It was her turn to moan now and you wrapped your legs around her waist, allowing your heels to fall to the floor.

Riri’s hand attempted to slip under your skirt, but you smacked it away with a swiftness, “I’m not that easy, Williams.”

“Like I said, I love a challenge.” She grinned up at you and you returned it.

“Can I just say, I think we’ve discovered that I’m a better kisser than you.”

Her laugh was loud and hearty, “Ima give you that because you’re adorable when you’re over confident. You and that cute forehead.”

“Oh my god what’s wrong with my forehead you freak?” You smacked her shoulder and hopped down from the desk to gather your things.

She only laughed as she walked you to the door, not before getting a few more pecks in and copping yet another feel of your butt.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She pressed her face on the side of her door and eyed you.

“What secret is that? That you’re obsessed with me? I think we’ve covered that.”

She shook her head and smirked, “I did the entire assignment wrong on purpose. Like come on, you really thought I would make that many mistakes on some simple equations? I just wanted to see you get all excited about correcting me, and you didn’t disappoint, lemme tell you.”

Your eyes bulged out of your head at her confession. She was truly a sick and twisted individual, but so were you. A match made in hell if anything.

“Goodnight, Riri.”

#riri williams x black!reader #riri x black!reader #lyricswriting #ironheart x black!reader #myworks #riri williams x reader #ironheart x reader #riri williams x plus size!reader #riri williams #black panther #wakanda forever #ironheart #dominique thorne #riri williams x fem!reader #riri williams x black!fem!reader

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bittersweetarts · 2 years

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Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 4)

Aemond Targaryen x You – Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Word count: 2671 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Angst, misogynistic behaviour (quite sexist), dubious consent

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 4: Morning Sins

From a young age, you were taught that lives are like candle flames, easily snuffed out by errant winds. You were also taught by the Septons back home that sinners who do not repent their transgressions are sent to the Seven Hells, but you could not bring yourself to feel regret or desire atonement for your wrongdoing.

Here you were, alone in bed with a man you were unmarried to. And worst of all, you did not feel afraid or forced, but worryingly, almost at peace. Wrapped in warmth, you found yourself in a dangerous position, with the Prince Aemond bare-chested, holding you tightly while asleep, still and discreet. You watched his bare chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, and when you looked up at his face, you could not help but flush.

There was something so tragically beautiful about his features. You could not help but find his scar handsome, as it seeped beyond the confides of his black leather eye patch. It did not ruin his countenance, but rather made it bewitching. When you first laid, he refused to remove the covering, and you could not help but feel culpable, for you knew that he kept it on for your benefit. He was here trying to make you feel at ease, meanwhile you were here trying to distract him from murdering a person in cold blood.

Although you went to bed late and you were tired, you still woke early, as you always do. The chirping of nuthatch birds before dawn wakes you every morning, and today was no exception. Now, you contemplated how to proceed.

His Grace laid so gently, and you did not have the heart to wake him from his peaceful sleep. Instead, you watched him and tried to muster the will to remove yourself. It had proven to be a difficult task.

The room was still dark, and you were dressed in the previous nights attire. You were not ready to don your evening wear in front of the Prince, and he did not acknowledge the matter either. Your corset, though loose, was still constraining, and you felt sweaty, ready to change into something cleaner.

Carefully, you try to pull an arm of his away. The hold on you only tightened, and you feel a face burrow into your neck. His nose pressed onto a sensitive spot, breathing in deeply, making you sharply draw your breath. A voice mumbles into your ear.

“Sleep.”

“I cannot.”

“Why can’t you try?” His morning voice rasped, and you felt your resolve begin to slip.

Nevertheless, you had your duties, and you knew that you could not stay here forever. You tried again to push yourself up but failed once more, for the hold on you tightened further. His face shifted, and you felt warm lips press on your head.

“Stay, I command it,” Prince Aemond says, his voice lacking its usual authority.

“You know that I cannot, that we cannot.” You argue again, tilting your own face up to confront his. It felt intimate when your eyes met, and your resolve weakened further.

“It is treason to not listen to my orders.” He smiled as he spoke, his breath bating against your face. As you breathed, you could not stop from inhaling his. Tightening his grip and pressing his face against your hair, he hummed, holding you in place. Yes, you felt at peace, but you knew that it could not last.

“It is also treason for me to be here with you.” You weakly argue.

“No, it is not. You are serving the Crown, as you should.” His speech vibrates against your head, and he presses his firm body closer onto yours. You thought you might slip into delirium, yet did not, your innate stubbornness forcing through.

“It is, because it means that I am not with your family, serving them as I should.”

Sighing, the Prince lifted himself and partially released his grip on you. He still held you loosely though.

“I could arrange for someone else to complete your duties, you know,” he says nonchalantly. You frown in response, ignoring him, and pull yourself away. As you do, a chill creeps in.

While walking to your wardrobe, you feel his eye watching you attentively. Again, you ignore it, and begin to choose your attire. Turning around, your eyes meet his, gleaming with mischievousness. Impulsively, you speak in a demanding tone.

“Close your eye or turn around. I must change.” You pause for a moment, and quickly glance back at him, slightly bowing your head. “Your Grace.” This garners an endearing grin on his face.

You knew that logically, you should have gone to the washroom, but you also knew that if Aemond did not respect your request now, he would not have respected your privacy while changing there either. However, you also did not want to know whether he would actually heed your request, so you quickly turned back once more to change, trusting him despite instinct. You ignored pestering feelings of uneasiness.

Once changed, you turn back around, and see that the Prince had actually listened to you. Though the room is still dim, you can see his eye shut. You remained silent, out of nervousness perhaps, and watched him for a moment. Next to him, on your wooden bedside table, an object catches your eye: your hairbrush, which almost glistened in the dark. Instinctively, you touch your hair and realise how tangled it is. Your hair felt like a bird’s nest, and you internally groan.

Once again, logically, you should have informed the Prince that you were approaching towards him only to collect your belongings. Blaming sleep deprivation, you impulsively approach your bedside table, stepping lightly, and grab your brush, foolishly forgetting the Prince’s presence, which was an error on your part. His eye was still shut.

As you leaned down to grab the brush, you feel the chain around your neck tugged strongly from the side. Caught off balance, you feel yourself tilted to your right, and find yourself leaning over the Prince, who was sat upright with a smug smile. Before you realise, you are tugged forward once more, and the Prince pushes himself forward, so that your lips met. As your lips connect, Prince Aemond relinquishes the hold on your necklace, and positions a hand on your waist, holding you upright.

Shocked and wide eyed, you try to pull yourself away, but feel a hand roughly press against the base of your neck, pushing you back forward, and you are forced to kiss the Prince harder.

You hesitate at first, but the room has been uncharacteristically cold, meanwhile Aemond happened to be pleasantly warm. Without meaning, you found yourself melting into his lips, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your hands proceeded to move of their own volition, gliding through the Prince’s hair. As you combed through the soft strands, Prince Aemond releases a moan, and he quivers under your touch.

Instinctively, you pull on his hair, and in response, the Prince harshly bites on your lower lip. You let out a small cry, and as your mouth opens, the cruel Prince seizes it with his tongue, startling you back to your senses. This was beyond improper, and even more appalling was how you were practically falling to pieces with only a kiss. You tried pulling back from Aemond, but again, he pushed against the back of your neck. This time, however, you did not yield. Pulling a hand from his hair, you severely slap the Prince’s cheek.

The slap was hard and its sound echoed through the otherwise silent room. Fear possessed you, and by this point, you had found yourself straddling the Prince without intending to, except now that you had pulled away, you were just sat on his stomach, above him. You were frozen in fear, staring at his face, open mouthed, waiting for his rage to manifest.

But it did not. Instead, the rabid glint in the Prince’s violet eye resurfaced. Dramatically rubbing his cheek where you slapped him, the Prince appeared far from provoked. Rather, there was a look in his face that you could not understand, and his wicked smirk returned.

You knew that Prince Aemond was agile, but his speed never failed to take you by surprise. One moment you were staring down at him, and the next, you found yourself beneath him. The Prince had swiftly pulled you by the waist and flipped you over, pinning your wrists by your side. With a mischievous glint in his eye, the blonde hunched his back, leaning towards you, and he coarsely began whispering, sounding like a madman.

“When I slayed my first bastard nephew, my mother wept, declaring that I was cursed.”

You winced as he spoke, because truthfully, you believed the same. As a religious and family-orientated woman, you consider kinslaying to be one of the most egregious acts fathomable to commit, and this topic brought you great discomfort. You are unnecessarily reminded of how dangerous the Prince Aemond is, once more.

Letting go of a wrist, Aemond moved one of his hands to your hair, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, before gently caressing the side of your face. Your breathing had become rapid due to fear, but you still maintained eye contact with the Prince, in an attempt to convince him otherwise.

“I never did believe it. I have never been devout like that.”

The Prince leaned down to you, pressing his nose against your chest, taking a deep breath before trailing gentle kisses across. You could have sworn that he could feel your heart, for it was racing faster than it had ever before.

“You make me doubt myself otherwise, for how can I not be cursed, when you have become the bane of my existence, having done nothing to have earned it, but by simply existing in my proximity?”

As the Prince spoke, you shivered, and for a brief moment, you wondered whether he was going to actually kill you, because in contrast with his almost loving words, the hateful ferocity in his voice was evident more than ever before. But surely, if he had wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now. So, you try to summon what little bravery you have and attempt to sit up, ignoring his proclamation.

“You missed your calling as a poet, my Prince.”

Similarly, the one-eyed Prince chose to ignore both your words and action, opting instead to pin you down with his body weight. What you felt below was like nothing you have ever known before. Practically crushing you, the Prince continued.

“Tell me, my Lady. How have you managed to garner my devotion? Why is it you that made me pious for the first time in my life?” Your face flushes at his admission, and you feel more embarrassed than you had ever in your life.

As you stared at the Prince Aemond, you realised that his eye began to glow, not due to his fervour, but because dawn had broken, and sunlight began seeping into your room. You did not know what to do with his romantic edict, so you opted to disregard it.

Collecting your hands, you try pushing him away with all of your might. When the Prince finally rolls over, it was not because of your strength, but your adamancy. Quickly picking yourself up, you see the forgotten hairbrush and briskly sweep it through your curls.

“You are ridiculous.” You chime.

“Evidently ridiculous only for you.”

Aemond turned on his side, holding himself up with one of his arms, observing you as you stood brushing your locks, as if you were a street performance.

Exasperatingly sighing out loud, you set your hairbrush down and head towards the doorway. Glancing back at him, you open your mouth, but then clasp it shut. What could you say? Please leave my room discretely? Tell no one about this? Even if he were to keep this night a secret, you had no doubt that even if the Keep’s population had not already thought you his paramour, they would now. You were not oblivious to the spies infested at court, and there was nothing that you could do. Again, you were powerless. The only protection you had now was by being in the good graces of the Targaryen family, and not only Prince Aemond.

Collecting your gown and what little dignity left, you step out of the room wordlessly.

Your breath escaped you as you sprinted off to the Kitchens. You knew that you were incredibly late, and hoped that as normal, the Targaryens would not wake too early for breakfast. You tended to err on the side of caution and always prepared the table spread as early as possible. As you entered the Royal Kitchens, some servants looked up at you in surprise, and a cook that you were normally courteous with jested about your late wake. Though nerves possessed you, you tried to remain lighthearted and attempted to chatter with them as you normally do.

What you did not expect though, was an unsettling encounter with Lord Larys Strong, a man who you tended to avoid at court. You felt guilt for being judgmental, but there was something off-putting about his presence, and you sincerely hoped that it was not solely due to his twisted foot.

Since your arrival at the Red Keep, you have noticed Lord Strong’s lingering stare quite a few times, but it was generally easy to brush it off, for you had noticed he tended to do the same to Queen Alicent and the rest of the Royal Family (in addition to some other noble people at court). He also served the in King Aegon’s small council, so perhaps his actions were warranted.

He also never attempted to speak to you, that is until now.

“My Lady,” you hear a voice as you leave the Kitchens. Holding a heavy tray with many plates and cutlery, you slowly turn, maintaining balance.

“Good morning, Lord Strong.” You greet back, bowing slightly. You realise that the man had been leaning against the wall of the empty hallway as if waiting for you, and he looked like he was ready to begin a conversation.

“Please pardon me, but I have lots to do and very little time unfortunately.” Briefly bowing again, you turn around to continue on, hoping he did not consider you disrespectful. However, you pause as you hear a loud stomp. Turning back around, you see his Lordship slowly stepping towards you, supported by a mighty wooden staff.

“I know that it is difficult.”

Your brows furrow, as you stop to properly face the spindly man. Seeing your confusion, he continues, with an odd, cryptic tone.

“I have carried enough secrets in my life to recognise the burden. The Keep can be quite isolating. If you ever require someone to share the burden with, I am here.”

You were perplexed by him, and realised that your face showed exactly that. Slightly shaking yourself, you forced a smile and bowed once again. You also notice him glance down at the ground persistently, which strikes you as slightly odd.

“Thank you, my Lord. That is very generous, but unnecessary. I am a book open for anyone, and lack any burden to share. Please excuse me.” You try to leave again, but Lord Strong manages to speak before you do, in an almost patronising tone.

“There are many concerning characters in the castle, and intentions are often concealed. I offer you my confidence only because you may find need for it, as secrets always come to light.” His gaze then moves to your chest, lingering there for a moment too long, and your stomach turns.

“That is a beautiful necklace, my Lady, you suit it well.”

With a tight smile, you turn around and insincerely respond, before fleeing. “Thank you, Lord Strong, truly.” As you walk away, you can feel the spindly man’s burning stare.

Author’s Note: I actually have the next chapter completed and will be posting it after the season finale releases 👼🏼 My weekend plans got cancelled so I had some free time and drafted a really long chapter, but decided to split it in two – As always, I hope that you enjoyed! Things are pretty chill atm but will bump up in the next chapter :)

– Chapter 5

Tags: girl-obsessed-with-things 404slayer404 moonmaiden1996 rosaryos roseanimelover jovialfanatic wishfulwithwine missusnora maat-the-prescriptive

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond image #aemond targeryen imagine #aemondtargaryen!thots #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #fanfiction #y/n #house of the dragon #team green #hotd episode 10 #aemond the kinslayer

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five-miles-over · 2 years

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Yandere!Arthur Fleck Headcanons

TW: Stalking, intrusion/breaking in, obsessive/controlling behavior, possible violence

A/N: Thank you to the anon who requested this. I hope you like it!

Arthur Fleck is definitely a jealous, obsessive type of yandere.

Due to his job(s), Arthur wouldn't be able to keep a constant eye on each and every move of yours.

Still he would find a way to let you know that he was always watching you.

After following you to your workplace/school once, he would make a habit of leaving you small notes there. The notes would be things such as "I'm watching you <3" or "You our so pretty" or "Can't wate to marry you :) "

How did it all begin, you ask? Well, it all started when you showed up at his doorstep on a plain Thursday night. An envelope - perhaps a bill - addressed to one "Arthur Fleck" was delivered to you by accident. So, you took it to the address listed on the bill, and found yourself face-to-face with the tall, green-eyed, thin man.

You gently told him what had happened, handed him the bill, and politely bid him goodnight.

Taken aback by your willingness to do the right thing, Arthur became intrigued with you. After you left, he wanted nothing more than to see you again.

The next day, you met Arthur by accident at Pogo's, a comedy club within Gotham. Drinking a bottle of inexpensive liquor or beer, you sat at a table alone...when all of a sudden, you saw Arthur take the stage.

His jokes were...fair. You liked some of the things he said about his schooling. So out of support, you laughed along with him with the best grin that you could muster.

You thought it was just harmless encouragement. But to Arthur, that was the confirmation to solidify what he already believed: you were made for him, that you were an angel sent from heaven to bring him joy in this dreary life of his. And that he could never let you be hurt by anyone, including himself.

Much of what Arthur did was...rather tame. In addition to leaving you notes, he would surprise you while you were on the way back from work/school. He'd give you a spontaneous song-and-dance routine, something inspired from an old film or one of his jobs as Carnival.

When he had a little extra money, he would leave a cheap, small box of chocolates or candies at your workplace. Along with a crude drawing of you and him as stick figures, holding hands surrounded by hearts.

It was easier not to take it personally, even though something in your gut felt very, very wrong about Arthur. He needed help, he needed a professional intervention from a therapist far better than the shoddy ones in the city. Still, a part of you thought that maybe he was just having a little crush, and that it would pass.

But everything changed one Saturday night. It was after the famous talk show host Murray Franklin was assassinated on live television by a comedian known as the "Joker" wearing a colorful costume and clown makeup.

Coincidentally, Arthur was mysteriously gone from you life. He was nowhere near you, much to your surprise. Relieved a little, you relaxed in your apartment with your favorite comfort food and a feel-good television show.

Just then, there was a knock. A familiar voice, calling your name.

Annoyed, you opened the door with a huff. "Arthur, how the hell did you- " At your door stood the same man who killed Murray Franklin, clown makeup dripping in all of its maniacal glory.

"There's no one to stop me now, doll," the Joker sweetly spoke, entering your apartment with a confident stride. "We can finally be together."

You trembled, trying to think of an escape route, any way to get out of this situation. "Arthur, please..."

The Joker slammed your door shut, and turned the lock. "I'm not him anymore, doll. I'm your world now. And don't even bother calling the police..." He pulled out a gun from his pocket and fired two shots at the door, causing you to scream.

"Now, now..." the Joker knelt, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're mine, remember?"

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jbaileyfansite · 5 months

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Jonathan Bailey and Matt Bomer Interview with EW (2023)

Matt Bomer and Jonathan Bailey do some pretty unspeakable things to each other on camera for Fellow Travelers, whether it's the Bridgerton and Wicked star sucking on Bomer's toes in the premiere episode or the White Collar and Magic Mike stud channeling his inner dom daddy throughout. It's the kind of sexual escapades that force you to clutch your pearls and then realize, "I wasn't even wearing pearls. How did these get around my neck?!"

Maybe it's because we don't often see this kind of raw, unfiltered depiction of gay sexuality put on display for television, even on a premium network like Showtime. "I had never read anything like that before in a screenplay," Bomer tells EW.

"It's provocative and it's all the things that will draw an audience in, or at least get people talking," Bailey remarks in a separate interview. "But then, why is it there? Well, it makes sense." To Bailey's point, there's a lot of story packed into the intimate moments of Fellow Travelers. It's like tricking someone to eat their vegetables: the two nearly naked handsome Hollywood actors in their prime is the alluring melted cheese, but that desperation you feel emanating off two societally suppressed gay characters is the broccoli underneath.

"Anything that feels voyeuristic or chemical to the audience whilst watching it is right, because that is just how overwhelming it is when you do finally come together in a world that deems your love and intimacy foul or incorrect," Bailey explains. "So it becomes a multidimensional experience for the performers, but also for the people watching at home. I just think there's no doubt with this that the art of the sex scene is so profound."

Bomer and Bailey star in Fellow Travelers as Hawk and Tim, who first meet and start an intoxicating affair in 1950s Washington, D.C., a time and place when Senator McCarthy (Chris Bauer) has launched the "Lavender Scare" purge of homosexuals from government positions. The series continues to track Hawk and Tim's relationship across decades, often bouncing between the past and the drama's 1980s present, when Bailey's Tim is stricken with AIDS.

The seventh episode, "White Nights," premiering on Paramount+ Friday and on Showtime this Sunday, sees these on-again, off-again lovers in the '70s on Fire Island. Bailey's mustache says it all. The sex reflects this next setting, which was (and still is) a rare safe haven for these men to express themselves openly.

The actors knew how much emotional and physical intimacy would be required of them for Fellow Travelers from the jump. "It was all on the page," Bailey recalls. "I read the script before I spoke with [showrunner] Ron Nyswaner, so I knew exactly what they were trying to do." The pair recall meeting with each other in Toronto, where the show primarily filmed, at Goldstruck Coffee on Cumberland Street. "It writes itself," Bailey jokes of the shop's playful name. "We were like, we need to see how each other are doing. We got to know each other in a way that was vicariously through the characters. That first conversation, we were totally committed to having each other's backs."

The sex scenes weren't something they overly discussed with each other, beyond "certain intricacies" they had to work out, Bomer says. "Obviously, we were very respectful of each other's boundaries. You did the work on the character, you showed up on set, you knew what your job was, and then you just hopefully try to let it fly when they call action."

"When you're going on set and it's 3 in the morning and you've done 16 hours worth of filming and you are about to only start the intimacy scenes, you do have to summon the angels and listen to Enya and draw from the ground to muster up the courage," Bailey says, playfully. "But that feeling of having to build your confidence and to put your armor on to do that is exactly right, because that's what the characters are feeling."

For Bomer, when it came to the onscreen sex, he enjoyed what he calls Hawk's "zero f---s given" vibe. "Hawk does have a public persona that he needs to survive and maneuver in the world that he's in, but underneath it all is a real 'f--- you,'" he says. "That for me was so refreshing to get to play, but it was also really refreshing to see — not that every intimate gay relationship is like that, but to see an aspect of gay sex brought to life in such an authentic and unflinching way."

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#jonathan bailey #matt bomer #interviews #interviews:2023 #EW interview 2023 #fellow travelers #NEW!

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