#&&. plz divert your attention away from the hand

[storybounded]

Wip of my take on Deuce’s menace of a mom 😂. It’ll still be a bit till I am finished but 👀

[noisyquokka]

Could I request a blurb with kevin from the boyz where we get stuck at home during a snowstorm but then eventually have to go back to work/school, the regular grind ig? Fluffy and cute stuff plz ^-^

The Place To Be

PAIRING - Kevin x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - Spending three days in the house can easily bring on cabin fever. Well, except when Kevin's around... It's even harder to get back on schedule when he's actively doing his best to keep you near.

WORDCOUNT - 1.9k

WARNINGS - Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, sarcastic comments/insults incoming (It's just that kinda relationship), just two (2) dorks doing cute shit together and being cute together, Kevin being a menace

A/N - So it's not a blurb (I'm basically incapable of writing anything under 1k words) but I hope you enjoy it all the same!💛 Edit: I'd like to formally apologize for thinking I posted this like 3 weeks ago when it, in fact, sat in the drafts 🤡 send me to the pit of flames, y'all!

"Good God, how many shades of the same yellow does one paint kit need!?" Kevin shakes his head, squeezing the tiny tube of Cadmium onto the palette. He's sitting beside you, working on a paint-by-number piece that he'd bought months ago. What better time to crack it open than today? You turn your head to the canvas, taking in his progress.

"Those are not the same shade, Kev." You point to the few yellows you assume he's referring to, along with the one he'd just added to his palette. "That's a light yellow compared to this one. This is more of a lemon." You reach for two others; Golden and Saffron. "And these are two different shades, babe."

"Golden, Lemon, Banana Cream, Pineapple, Pear. I don't see a difference!"

"And you call yourself an artist... pfft." It's a mumble that's loud enough for him to hear, one that earns you the bump of his knee into yours under the table. You chuckle in response, bringing your palm to rest under your chin.

His eyes rove over the canvas, and you can see the cogs turning in your boyfriend's head as he figures out how to twist this paint-by-number into his own little masterpiece. The box was labeled Cottage in the Mountains but you knew Kevin. He'd add his own little touch to the canvas in the end.

"I know I'm hot, but quit staring, babe!"

"Oh, so hot that the snow is still falling." you pipe up, sarcasm thick in your tone. Kevin places a hand on his chest dramatically, rubbing at his pec as if you've wounded him. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your hairline before he diverts his attention back to the tubes of paint.

"Felt that one deep in my chest, at least five years off my life." He presses another kiss to your nose, finding the smirk on your lips when he pulls away. "You trying to kill me off early?"

"Ugh, you got me. I'm actually an assassin." You reach for one of the painting knives on the table, running your fingers over the blade like a villain in a movie. "Unfortunate that I have to break it to you when we're stuck in this house together, snowed in... no one to come looking for you..."

"Well, when you say it like that." he trails, taking the knife from you. He's so unbothered, too used to this back and forth that you two have conjured as your love language. The corners of your lips curl up in a grin, and you bring your hand up to cradle his jaw, pressing your lips against his cheek in a quick kiss.

"You are the only thing saving me from this hell. So thank you for staying with me." you say. Kevin chuckles, dipping his brush into the dollop of Cadmium.

"We live together, you know." 

"Well yeah, but you could've chosen to paint in the office or something."

"But I didn't." The paintbrush moves over the canvas with sparse flicks of a wrist, the man's attention taken up by the careful strokes of his workspace. Your smile hadn't faded by much, but watching him work brightened it like morning glories.

"No, you didn't." you murmur. You get up from your seat, carding your fingers through his hair before leaving a kiss on top of his head. 

It's a simple thing, really; with below-zero wind chills and a snow band that wouldn't let up, you two were stuck inside. The whole town had shuttered with the storm, putting the safety of the citizens above all else, which in turn, canceled any non-essential traveling. With the snow falling at a pretty good clip, plows couldn't clear the streets fast enough. Living in a cold climate long enough had humbled you, and you easily knew when it wasn't worth going out. It also taught you how to make a mean chicken and veggie soup. Speaking of...

The paintbrush halts its movement over the canvas, brown eyes sliding back to where you disappear into the kitchen. His stomach rumbles, those familiar scents of seared chicken and simmered vegetables distracting him from his work. Kevin finishes the bit of paint off before cleaning off his used brushes, standing from the dining table and padding after you.

"Need any help?" He smiles, watching the moment your head turns to find his form standing in the doorway. You wave him over, stirring the soup in the Dutch oven. Long arms find their respective place around your torso, pulling you slightly away from the stovetop flame.

"You're like a dog," you mutter, setting the ladle down on the counter. You turn to face him, his fingers sweeping your midriff with the action, leading him backward until his hip meets the island. "always sneaking into the kitchen, nosing around for scraps."

"Does that mean I get whatever my heart desires?" He leans against the marble, dipping his head down till his forehead bumps yours.

"Depends." you reply with a sly grin, hands sliding over the fabric of his hoodie. "What exactly are you looking for?"

Your question is met with a cheeky smile and a raised brow, strong hands slipping around your waist.

"Nothing too demanding, just you and me cuddling on the couch after we eat?" The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he cocks his head to the side. "And a taste of that soup?"

You twist away from his grasp, bringing your attention back to the stove. The soup simmers on medium heat, steam rising above the broth as you stir the menagerie in the pot. You hum to yourself, feign thinking it over. Kevin's arms catch you as you instinctively lean back into his chest, fingers trailing over your side. After a moment, the ladle is placed on the counter again, and you reach to the left to wretch the drawer open for a spoon. It's all the answer Kevin needs.

“Nothing too demanding?” you finally ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. The remark is too easy to pass up cracking jokes, and it earns you a breathy laugh as your boyfriend rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Maybe later, if you're feeling up to it." He matches your humorous teasing easily, following it with a kiss on your shoulder. You bite back a smile, taking the spoon to the pot with a careful hand, a sample taste that you blow on before turning to your boyfriend. You keep your free hand under the spoon as he takes a sip from the utensil, licking his lips just like a dog.

"Perfect!" he replies, eyes soft as he glances down at you. Fingers glide up the wrist that's holding the spoon, stealing it easily to go back for seconds.

"Biased!" you counter, reaching for the spice rack.

"For you? Always," Kevin admits, taking another sample from the pot. "But your comfort food always tastes the best."

"I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment to my cooking skills."

"Both." The word falls off his tongue quickly, and you scoff.

"Don't go eating it all, there's still ten minutes left on the timer!" You swat his hand away from the pot, stealing the spoon back with a half-hearted glare.

"Is that your way of telling me patience is a virtue?" he questions, taking you back into his grip. He catches the sidelong glance you spare - the shoulder that you shove back into him in retaliation - and he grins. 

"That's exactly what I'm saying." You take from the few spices you've used in the soup already, adding a little more into the pot. Kevin intently watches you work, a looming heat over your shoulder that warms you more than the flame in front of you. He doesn't let go of you when you finally back away from the stove, opting to pull you with him until he's once again leaning against the counter and you're pressed against his chest. With seven minutes left on the timer, you let your attention drift to the man clinging to your waist.

Large hands sweep up your back and pull you closer, brown eyes locked with yours for a brief moment. Patience practiced, his gaze briefly drops to your lips and then he’s leaning in, a gentle brush of his against yours that has you instinctually wrapping your arms around his neck. The warmth of his breath makes the hairs on your neck stand like electricity coursing through your veins. You nuzzle your nose playfully against his, earning yourself a lazy grin.

The space between you dwindles to nothing once he captures your lips in a kiss. It's soft and sweet, a simple little thing that has a smile pulling at your lips, and suddenly the kitchen is the coziest place to be. Kevin's ears twitch at the sound of your laughter, heard in between liplocks and small pecks.

The best sound he's ever heard.

It's when you lean into him and curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck that he pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours. Just in time for the timer to go off.

It's like this for the three days that you're stuck at home; a simple routine that you quickly grow accustomed to as the hours drag on. While you don't mind sticking it out with your boyfriend, you're not against the idea of racing out into the yard to bury yourself under the several feet of snow that has fallen. Kevin makes it bearable when he's got you wrapped up on the couch or in bed, nothing more than the sound of your collective breathing and tangled legs under blankets.

It only becomes a problem when the snow has ceased and snow removal has wrapped up.

"Kevin, baby, I have to get up!"

You're still in bed, imprisoned in your boyfriend's embrace while you watch the minutes quickly deplete for you to get ready for your shift. Kevin whines into your neck, his arms tightening when you try to pry them off.

"Don't you have sick days left?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Take a sick day." he pleads, eyes closed as he snuggles into you.

"You know I can't do that."

Cue the grumbling like a perturbed feline being chased from the bathroom sink. You can't help but laugh at the response, trying once again to escape the man's clutches. He only tightens his grip again.

"Kev, come on, now," you whisper, turning your head towards your boyfriend. "We've been stuck in the house for three days."

"Take a sick day," he repeats, mumbling the words against your neck. His lips are warm against the skin, nipping at the delicate flesh lazily before he lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"Please?"

It's hard to protest when he's looking at you like that; like you're his only reason for staying in bed another day. The heat of his body sinks into yours and you feel the protests on the tip of your tongue succumbing to the thumb massaging circles into your hip. To be completely honest with yourself, you'd be willing to skip work daily if you could stay wrapped up in Kevin's arms like this for the rest of your days.

You sigh softly, knowing your attempts to convince him to let you go are failing. The puppy eyes have won you over, and he'll melt any defenses you can muster up with them.

Your hand juts out for your phone, grabbing it from the nightstand. It's a quick unlock and a couple of taps, a quick call to your supervisor that you can't make it in due to the driveway being snowed in. A little white lie. When you hang up, you shoot your boyfriend a look.

"Happy?" you ask.

Kevin sighs contentedly, pulling you close as he makes himself comfortable again.

"Very."

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

[suuooe]

anger | suo hayato x gn!reader

✧ hurt/comfort, mostly fluff. established relationship or situationship or very close friends? ya'll be the judge of that.

a/n: hi. hello wind breaker fandom. a week ago when i was on these tags like a daily routine it was a desert, now when i decide to upload things myself it's suddenly an oasis.

this is brainrot. suo hayato has been in my brain for 2 weeks plz send help. it's close to 12 am when i publish this, so this is something me in a few hours have to deal with but i hope ya'll enjoy <3

"… Hayato?"

Suo hums in response to your call of his name, although he doesn't turn around to face you - instead focusing his attention to the different type of tea sets on your cupboard to pick out the set he wants to use for the occasion.

You falter a tiny bit, on the outside it doesn't seem like anything was amiss. He came over the usual time, greeted your grandparents and handed them fresh baked goods he had gotten when he passed through the town. He had greeted you like normal, given you a quick hug before taking the tray of various teacakes you had prepared for the day to head to your room first. It was a normal day, the same routine and almost the same smile he's given you each day.

And yet, you can't get over this gnawing feeling that he seemed a bit more…

"… Are you angry at something?" you decide to ask in the end.

His movements halt, the kettle in his hands were halfway bent downwards to pour out the tea you had brewed for the day. His visible eye blinks once, twice and a third time before he places the kettle down back on your table and leans back to sit on the floor. And for the first time you had entered your bedroom, his attention is now on you, head cocked slightly to the side in mild confusion. "What makes you ask that?"

You divert your gaze away from his own, scooting yourself a bit closer to the middle of your bed while letting out a sigh.

"… Sakura-san came over yesterday evening, you see." even though your eyes were focused on your hands, you could still see the slight tensing of Suo's body before you. "He wasn't worried, in his words at least. But he did tell me how you behaved a bit differently when you fought this group the same day he came over… Keel was it? I- I didn't know that such a big fight had happened."

The smile had long dropped off of Suo's lips.

You could feel the tension rising in the room, your next sentence coming out a bit more meek than you had intended, "How he had to stop you from doing more damage to your own opponent since you had clearly knocked him out. A-and Nirei-kun had texted me right after too, telling me how you were worried about him after the fight. Judging from how he just told me to ask if you're okay, I'm assuming he wasn't there at the scene, but-"

"… What are you implying, [Name]?" While his tone is light, you notice that's there's a hint of irritation laced within the question, at you or at his classmates for telling about what had transpired the day before - you don't know.

"Nothing! I'm not trying to make you do or say anything! I… I guess I just wanted to see if you were…" you take a deep breath and raise your head up to face Suo head on, only to jump when you find the boy already right in front of you, bent slightly to keep eye contact with you, "… okay." you breathe out in the end, the close proximity making you whisper out the last word.

While he's not smiling, you can tell that Suo's eye is still gentle, indicating that he wasn't particularly mad. Not anymore at least. Blinking slightly, you raise your hand to cup his visible left eye, your thumb rubbing his cheek, "At least you're not hurt." you murmur, Suo letting out a chuckle while closing his eyes, deciding to not answer and instead nuzzle into the palm of your hand.

A few seconds pass before Suo opens his mouth.

"I admit, it wasn't my most honourable moments, losing my cool like that." Ah, so he was indeed enraged during that fight. The hands that were once again clasped behind his back unfurl themselves to instead gently place themselves on each side of your body, in a way trapping you between the wall behind you and Suo's frame. He lets out a deep sigh before resting his forehead against your shoulder. "It's also why I wanted to drop by so early in the morning. Just to get out the residual anger in me, but I'm fine." he whispers, leaning a tiny bit up to give your cheek a peck - a small chuckle leaving his lips at how you immediately tense up.

"So you're doing fine now?" you ask again, raising your arms up to wrap around Suo's shoulders. The brown haired boy only shifting slightly to lean most of right head on your shoulder, the small breaths he lets out hitting the exposed skin on your neck, making you shiver.

"Yeah." he starts, closing his visible eye as he takes in the gentle aroma of steeped tea in the room mixed in with your own scent, "I'm fine now."

[rumblelibrary]

Headcanons for Laszlo plz

On John Moore engagement party, Doctor!Reader was holding a fancy fan, walk around the palace, lots of people talking but there this person were talking to himself, you approach a bit, his words are very unique, he turn to you, they are having a good chemistry together, Laszlo give a kiss on back on hand giving a card

The Queen's Fan [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Doctor!Reader]

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: My first Anon request!!! I am flyinggggg

When you received the invitation to the engagement party of Miss Violet Hayward with Mr John Moore, you weren’t surprised, instead, you took your time to study the invitation in every detail: the kind of paper, the designs, the subtle requests hidden in the polite formulas of a formal invitation. All of that was a small tip on how the party will be and you expected a lot of unusual display of richness.

You have cured and followed Miss Hayward mental and physical well being for three years by now and you knew well she wanted you at that party, just as much her also her godfather. Mr Hearst, which had the audacity to always try to break your professional oath asking for more informations about what Violet said privately to you, never hid a very specific attraction toward you which only prepared you to have to allow him zero space of conversation.

He once asked you if Violet really loved John Moore, the boldness of the newspaper magnate always surprising you.

For that evening you ordered a special dress of a dark blue colour with golden inserts, the off-shoulder design was breathtaking and the long pendant earrings framed your neck lusciously.

But the real protagonist of your outfit was your fan: the very own fan that was designed to celebrate the marriage between the Dauphin Louis (future Louis XVI) and Marie Antoinette in 1770. A very special piece that you acquired through an art auction and, knowing Violent’s passion for the 16th century style, it will be perfectly on theme.

So you walk in, fanning slowly your way through the party, you wear no mask because the fan is covering that role.

The place is absolutely crowded, the music played by the most sublime musicians of New York, the flowers the most exotic, the decor the most extravagant.

Your meeting with Violet was brief and you gifted Mr Moore a condescending smile in the time he spent messily introducing himself, he looked like he was ready to leave the party at any time, a rat in a labyrinth looking for the exit.

You also noticed how his talks and attentions were often diverted to a young blonde woman and you know well who she is, because of her fame on the newspapers, and also because Violet told you about her. You studied their interaction as you picked a glass of champagne.

You felt sorry to admit that their body language was screaming mutual interest, but you left the questions aside dodging Doctor Markoe here and his small gathering of followers there.

“But please Doctor Y/L/N, I am in need to discuss your last scientific paper”

You smirk at his childish attempt to measure himself above the others by calling in your attentions.

“I will be waiting for a letter from you then, Dr Markoe, I am not here to discuss my writings, but I always answer professional inquiring in less than a week”

You smile fanning yourself away deciding to visit the second floor, because the party took so many floors.

Alcohol pouring behind every corner, the most delicious pastries being served, this celebration looked more and more like the daydream of a child on a sugar rush, which made you smile because Violet is just as that.

As the music vibrates through the halls you move along the corridors, halls covered of decors and laughters scratching away any phantom of charm in such a façade. You follow with your eyes the beautiful bride-to-be in the process of unveiling the the very first German-designer luxury motorcar and tugging a very uncomfortable Mr Moore off the eyes of her personal court. A smile creeps on the side of your mouth. Violet, so close to her reptilian brain made of instincts.

So pure and so conflictive.

Your eyes follow the party as young girls in age of marriage throw themselves to the cake, ripping it off as jewels emerge from it, they scream and hit each other as all those valiant men stare and cheer for their wigged champion.

“It is more than somewhat depressing.” A man says close by, his broad shoulders catch your eye as an old man quickens his path away from him, you smirk, you recognise a kindred spirit from how others move away from truth “Such a wanton extravaganza fills me with melancholia. It is like Versailles. So far I have counted three Louis Quatorzes and at least four Maria Antoinettes, what was it she said to her starving subjects? If you don’t have bread, let them eat cake.”

He sighs, by now you are close enough to see the side of his face, his composure and his stance are the ones of a man on a mission.

A true old school romantic. You thought.

“Brioches” you say from behind him “she said brioches, nevertheless she probably meant for a cake in that time, so your reasoning is not flawed” you assure him. He turns around taken aback, like you were spying his thoughts and not listening to his words.

“Besides, you can count more Marie Antoinettes on our same floor, and I believe Lord Hessloff there awarded himself to be the less famous Louis XV who however had a better selection of concubines to follow him” you added moving your fan in that direction.

“I pity how nobody dressed as Louis XVI” the man adds then, trying to provoke you.

“That would grant us a show” you add right back at him, he smirks but there’s a veil of sadness in it. You both know the only man in odour to be beheaded here is the groom.

His eyes scan you, he studies you briefly and discreetly as you speak.

“Your fan, It is the first appropriate decor I see in this party” he says but soon corrects himself “historically accurate, I mean”.

You smile allowing that compliment “I am spirit keen to accuracies”

He smiles, he is amused, his eyes shine and all that melancholy a distant memory.

“May I be allowed to introduce myself, I am Dr…”

“Dr Laszlo Kreizler, I know” you assure offering him your hand as he politely shakes it, his right hand does the job but you sense a sort of imbalance in the grip “it is impossible not to know your fame in the scientific field, the study over childhood traumas you have produced can still be considered a leading chapter to treat younger patients”

His feature shining, his interest is awake, you are way more than he expected or assumed, you’re intriguing him and he can’t hide it. He shifts his posture, his lips press together collecting courage and vocabulary to express his surprise.

“So you’re also in the field”

“I am Doctor Y/N Y/L/N”

“The very Dr Y/L/N” he repeats. He smiles, widely, as he bows his head slightly on side with a breathy chuckle, he is absolutely fascinated “This is no place for all the questions I want to pin on you, very respectfully. There is a reasoning in your ways of challenging structures among human thought and your articles, those are the real challenge for any masculine diverted mind”

You smile, he charms you, this elegant man with his distinctive accent. He must look stuck up on a first glance, but you see the fire in his eyes. A man that can give way more one can foresee.

You reach to him handing him your card.

“Do call me then” you say, he looks down at the business card like a prophet looked at the gifts from God.

He reaches in for the card with his left hand, he takes it reading over and over your name graciously written in that elegant but simple font, even your business card anticipates something he is not able to express just yet.

Or maybe he is.

He slowly moves the card across his left hand fingers like a well accustomed card player.

Now your card rests between his little finger and his ring finger, his hand gently guides yours in as he slowly places a kiss on your skin. A single shiver arises from that simple touch, an electric shot that goes up to his brain and down your spine. Your skin doesn’t fail his first impression as it smells like fresh picked jasmine. His beard just as soft as it looks scratches your knuckles.

All the well costumed gentlemen know you never touch the skin with the lips and a kiss on the hand should only a formal gesture, but none of you is well costumed nor conventional.

There’s no need to hide that simmering intent between the two of you.

The dance has begun, you know the steps and with this gesture he proved to you he is going to follow none of the conventional ones.

That’s a real charmer.

You smile slowly covering your mouth with your fan as you move to walk away.

“Have you ever heard of the fan language?” You ask him, his undivided attention showering over you just pulls you even more to a place of need.

You close your fan and move it to your right hand to open it again in front of your face, face of the design toward him.

You both know what it mean.

Follow me.

[crazyfreckledginger]

Billy Hargrove x Reader - “What We Have”

After the casul drinking party on the empty parking lot beside school ended, Billy insisted he take you home, although, not yet, he wants to spend a little more alone time with you. 

Requested by @softboi-vibes Omg I wanna request that u carry on with the billy imagine and billy comes up to (Male readers or gender neutral readers bedroom and it leads to billy doing what he has been wanting to do for ages, maybe a rough blowjob or just rough sex idk JUST MAKE IT NSFW PLZ ❤️❤️❤️❤️) 

A/N: I hope you still want this after the ridiculously long wait, I’m so sorry about that! T-T I hope you like it and that I did a good job!! [Genderneutral, it’s in second person]

Warning: smut, oral, blowjob, swearing (?) 

After school closed, there was a pretty lively party in the empty parking lot. Having been friends since you arrived halfway through the second semester, and being this close to Billy could only be described as eventful. Something was always happening: either exciting or tiring, with no in-between. 

What was always unexpected around Billy, however, was how he acted toward you. The hazelnut-haired man was strangely nice and less of an ass? 

But you both felt comfortable together so it eased these thoughts a bit. 

"I should go, my battery is running out." it was only Billy, you and someone else you didn't remember this late in the night. 

"Okay." you nodded. 

Billy took a drag from his cigarette, nodding at his friend and gesturing to him as a goodbye. 

Awkwardly, you scratched your forearm, watching as the man you barely interacted with walked out of the parking lot and disappeared into the darkness. 

"I'll take you home." Billy flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and stuffed it into the ground with his boot. 

"Are you sure?" you inquired.

 "Mmh," he nodded to the car door as he opened his and slipped inside. 

Without another word, you sat in the passenger seat. 

Both of you were comfortable in the vehicle but Billy didn't start the engine. Watching in your peripheral vision, you distinguished his figure. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, like he was frozen. 

"Are you okay?" your eyes finally locked with his. 

Billy wore an unreadable expression, which was very unnerving.

"W-What?" your nervous tone of voice did not go unnoticed by the most popular guy in school. 

"You always seem on edge with me." his beautiful eyes narrowed suspiciously, but it only seemed like he was shooting daggers at you.

"I-I don't-" 

"We're friends aren't we? So why are you scared of me?" 

"Y-yeah, I guess." you cleared your throat with a low tone, your eyes diverting to your window. He remained silent for a moment. 

Then why are you so confusing ? 

He did intimidate you a little bit, but it was how strange and different he could act depending on the person. 

"Why are you so nice to me?" it was not the perfect time to ask, but when would it ever be? 

"Hmm?" he raised an eyebrow at you, sitting back down into his seat. 

"You're… not the nicest person to other people, but you're really sweet to me, why?" you didn't miss his gulping as you uttered the word 'sweet'. 

"It's just how I am." he responded. 

"Why with me?" you ignored his excuse. 

"Because…" he trailed off, suddenly feeling a little shy, he laid back further into his seat, biting his lip as his eyes trailed up and down your figure. 

Wanting to know his answer, you acted like you didn't see what he just did. 

"You're… different." 

He didn't miss the eyebrow raise you sent his way. 

"Let me show you." he placed his hand on your thigh, a smirk on his lips as he leaned in close. Swiftly, he captured your lips into his before you could process what was happening. His free hand went to cup your jaw, guiding you and giving himself full control over the kiss. 

The small moan you released into his mouth made him more bold, and soon enough, he was practically hovering over you. 

Pushing the seat back, he unbuckled your seat belt after his. You grew more confident as well as the makeout session progressed. Leaning his seat back, you straddled his lap, cupping his cheeks as his calloused hands wandered up and down your sides before they grasped your sides. 

His cheeks were very flushed when you pulled away from his lips to latch your own to his neck. 

He grunted under his breath. Your hands moved to his jeans, locking your gaze with his as you undid his belt, button and pulled his zipper. 

Kitten licking down his Adam's apple and to his collarbone, your ass accidentally pressed against the horn, making a loud noise. 

It made both of you jump out of your skin and your head hit the roof gently but still a little bit painfully. 

"Are you okay?" he blurted out without thinking. 

His hand reached out to pat your head but he quickly retracted it because of how vulnerable he felt. 

For his sake, you ignored it but you would be lying if you thought it didn't make your heart flutter. 

You grinded against his crotch as you kissed him again. Immediately, he moaned in surprised, his lust-filled look returning. 

"Fuck there isn't enough space." he opened the door wide and pulled you outside with him. 

Your (E/C) eyes scanned the empty parking lot. Not one person in sight. Your hand cupped his trousers and he gave you a sensual look as he chewed on his lower lip. 

Quickly getting on your knees, your fingers pulled his jeans to his ankles, before lowering his black underwear down just enough to release his length. It was extremely hard and sensitive by the way he was subtly squirming.. You gave the tip a quick peck. 

Billy grunted in need. Agonisingly slowly, your lips enveloped his tip and sucked slowly. 

"Oooh, fuck." he groaned, leaning against his car, his head falling back. 

Progressively, you took more and more of him into your mouth until his tip teased the back of your throat. You appreciated the little time he left you to adjust to his size and no longer than that, you started bobbing your head. 

Your hands found their way against his thighs as he released a stream of curse words. 

He had been waiting for this for a long while and now he was going to savour it as much as possible. After maintaining a steady, decently fast pace, one of his hands slithered into your hair, half-dictating the pace you should take and how deep you take him. 

"Fuck you're so good at this." a strained moan escaped him. 

Your tongue rubbed on the bottom side of his dick, increasing pressure on it and only faltering on how fast you were sucking him off. 

You didn't hear the tiny whimper from him as his breath caught in his throat.

His thighs tensed more under your touch. 

Your eyes glanced at him momentarily, liking how his head was loosely hanging, mouth agape and eyes shut closed. He was breathing heavily. 

Billy was getting closer and closer to his release. 

One of your hands went to fondle his balls, which prompted the loudest moan yet out of him. 

He watched down on you as you thoroughly fucked your throat on his cock, it was quite an attractive sight to watch, and even better one to feel. 

His hand gripped the top of the car door that was connected to the roof so tightly he was certain his knuckles were white. 

His cheeks burned intensely as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Billy couldn’t take it anymore and, as his hand slid along the open door, his knees buckled under him and he sat down on the seat; Unable to handle the pleasure you were giving him as your tongue circled around his base and his tip teased the back of your throat.

A strained grunt barely escaped him as he twitched inside of your mouth. 

Your (E/C) eyes met his, and he was extremely close. The look you gave him could have single handedly brought him over the edge if your gag reflex didn’t make you clench around him, tearing his attention away from your intense gaze. 

He felt incredibly exposed, but as you fondled his balls one last time, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he cursed loudly, cumming deep down your throat. 

His muscles spasmed and you decided to pull out as soon as he melted in the seat. You wiped your now clean lips and stood up planning to head back to your seat but Billy had other plans, grasping your wrist and pulling you back to him. 

Understanding his gesture, you straddled his lap, after he tucked himself back in. 

His hand slowly caressed your cheek, gazing into your eyes. You could tell by the look on his face that he’d never felt this way after sex before -- or it was extremely rare. 

“D-do you want to stay out for a bit?” he murmured, caressing your hips as he inched closer to your lips. 

“Sure,” you murmured with a shy smile.

Comments, votes and feedback improve motivation, writing and publishing, so it is in your best interest to leave some! :)  

Want to be tagged? Let me know in whichever way you are the most comfortable with!

Tagging: @lumifuer​ @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy​ @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx​ @lostnliterature @batette​ @schweeeppess​ @gearsinice​ @mizmahlia​ @tina8009 @alex--awesome--22​ @disa​ @caswinchester2000​ @arewegonnagetsuedforthis

[blakescoven]

11 with Xavier 🥺 plz!

11. Telling them a dumb joke just to see their smile 

A/N: cant believe I actually wrote something after MONTHS. This is trash I’m sorry :( and things got out of hand because it’s about 2k words oops, but thank you for the ask darling, I had fun🖤 (Despite my proofreading there might be grammar mistakes because of my italian illiterate ass, so please be nice)

Warnings: they’re ghosts here, but honestly just dumb jokes, fluff and a heated moment but if you blink you’ll miss it haha

It’s one of those mornings. One of those mornings when the sunlight peaks through the window waking you up. But why even bother sleeping when you’re dead? Well, call it a habit, call it boredom, call it not wanting to let go that crumb of routine which, as much as possible, allows you to keep holding on to whatever is the shred of humanity left within you; like a fading flame that, for some reason, is still burning. Or at least this is the only way to not dissociate from reality and preserve your sanity.

Based on the amount of light, it must be almost 9 am.

Before even opening your eyes, you already know that he isn’t there. It’s when you turn to the other side of the bed that you get the confirmation; he’s not beside you, just crumpled sheets cold to the touch.

It's one of those mornings you perfectly know where he went. As much as he may not want to admit it, Xavier is pretty predictable.

Halloween has just slipped by, and all of you however-reluctant-residents of Camp Redwood spent 24 hours of complete freedom from that hellmouth, that place which does nothing but constantly remind you of that life that none of the souls stuck there had the chance to live. 24 hours to do ‘whatever the hell you want’. On this occasion, you guys are used to split up and part from each other; it has become a sort of established practice not talking about what you did on those hours, a somewhat “private full-day experience” that you all have this silent agreement to not share.

But then there was Montana being Montana, who enthusiastically bragged about how many frat guys and girls she hooked up with and then mercilessly killed at those wild college gatherings, despite your well-known disappointment on killing innocent people in cold blood. But actually, you’re almost a hundred percent certain that she and Trevor annually spent that day together, doing crazy things and partying all night long. For the first few years, after becoming aware that all the trapped souls are somehow unbound from the invisible restraints and free to step outside the borders of the ‘slaughter camp’, acclimatizing to the evolution and changing of times has been particularly challenging.

You were the one of the gang that for years had used those 24 hours to find a way to set you spirits free from redwood, once and for all. You talked to mediums and psychics, charlatans, coming close to obsession; it has been Xavier who persuaded you to let go, begging to just give up.

“Xav, there must be a way out of this, a loophole…something that could release our souls and let us move on, I-”

“Babe stop, we tried hard enough, but that's just the way it is…and then at least there’s a bright side,” he claimed with a faint smile, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“And what on earth can that be?” you sighed.

“We've got all eternity to be together.”

He’s always been your rock. A hotshot and a dork too, but still. You wouldn’t want anybody else by your side for the rest of your non-life. 

So, from that moment, once a year, you and Xavier chose to make the most of your ‘day off’ going on dates, like normal couples do. For over three decades.

Then, as they say, the sun comes up and reality sets in.

And every time, without skipping a year, having to go back to the camp and dealing with that dreadful reality killed Xavier’s mood drastically. His aching heart led him to want to pass the day after in complete isolation, lost in his thoughts, grieving about what he has lost.

“I need to be alone for a while, Y/N” he used to mumble with a shrug, his usual confidence gone all at once, “This ‘let’s play humans’ thing was a mistake.” 

And every single year you let him walk away, respecting what has now become a sort of ritual, of cathartic moment. Year after year seeing all those people living their lives, achieving their dreams, having a purpose, or just solely breathing was too much for Xavier. Realizing that he won’t ever have anything of this. For this reason, you always gave him space. But not today. You’ve always felt powerless; all you want is finding a way to let your boyfriend know that, as he had said decades ago, ‘it’s time to move on and accept your new reality’. No more sorrow. If there’s something you know is how to cheer up your favorite aerobics instructor. 

On this November 1st of what should be 2020, Xavier is, as well as the last twenty years, sitting on the dock by the lake and staring off into space, surrounded by a disturbing silence.

“Boo” you seductively whispered in the shell of his ear, appearing out of nowhere kneeled behind him.

“Nice try,” he replies sarcastically, albeit his tone was rather emotionless, plain. “…but I can tell when you’re around.” He doesn’t even turn, totally unimpressed by your weak attempt of scaring him.

“Lame” you smirk, suddenly getting up, “Thought you could use some company, tough boy.”

You can’t see his face but you’re sure he is rolling his eyes now. He just sighs. Oh, and do you love his drama queen manners.

Without a real invitation to join him, you sit down again, this time right next to him, swinging your legs off the dock. You stare at the same direction he’s looking at, nervously tapping your fingers on the hard-wooden planks to the beat of an 80’s song.

“So,” you casually begin, though he seems pretty lost in his own thoughts, “Why don’t we skinny dip? I bet that could wash away that sad face.” you grin, biting your lip. 

You’ve never been this cheeky before, but what’s wrong in testing the waters?! Honestly, you’re not even sure he is actually paying attention to what you’re saying; you feel almost lucky he acknowledged your presence. You sure as hell won’t budge or back off this time, you won’t indulge his annual pity party. This time you are more than determined to make your boyfriend feel better, even unleashing your secret anti-sadness weapon.

Evidently caught off guard from this unusual boldness, Xavier lifts his head and turns to you with a surprised look on his face, but frowning at the same time.

Damn it, how can he be so attractive even when he furrows his brows like that?

Right now, the glare of sunlight on the water is perfectly reflecting off his sharp features, and, in this one moment, it’s like everything else falls away, and it’s just the two of you. Nothing else matters but him. Just a few seconds and you’re positive you’re going to forget the reason why you are there in the first place.

It’s the soft sound of his voice that brings you back to reality.

“I’m not sad.”

You shoot him a spare-me-that-bullshit-glance, that doesn’t go unnoticed, since he immediately emphasizes what he said in an attempt to make it sound more convincing, a few octaves higher.

“I’m not sad, Y/N!”

Very well Xav, time to bring out the big guns then.

With what you think is the most serious and straight expression your face can make in that moment, you tenderly place a hand on this cheek, which results in his brows furrowing even more, as if he’s silently questioning your sudden change of demeanor. He’s already preparing to get your lecture when instead you come up with:

“Do you know why ghosts are terrible liars?”

With a combo of a dramatic pause and a poker face, you bite the inside of your cheek noting his confused and puzzled look, “You can see right through them.”

Xavier’s blue eyes suddenly widen, shocked by your brainless joke that you’re certain he wasn’t expecting. You remain silent and he looks at you with his mouth slightly open, completely speechless.

“No way, no no no,” his eyebrows raised even further, “You didn’t say what you’ve just said.” and despite his apparent grimace, he lets out a loud laugh he really can’t hold back.

“Any chance to unhear this cringe-worthy joke?”

“Oh stop, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Are you kidding me?” he dramatically snorts. Theatrical might be the right word to describe the way your boyfriend always reacts when he’s at a loss of words.

“If you were searching for a non-physical way to kill me, you just found it.” he puts a hand on his forehead.

“Then why are you laughing, blondie?” you tease him.

“Because you’re the worst comedian ever, baby.”

Yeah? A bulb glows on your head.

“I disagree. Now tell me, what do you call a ghost-comedian?”

“Don’t you dare.” he warns

“DEAD-FUNNY” you scream back, then bursting into laughter.

It starts as a chuckle, but soon Xavier can’t help but mirror your reaction, cracking up himself.

It’s a laughter that fills his lungs, so hard that it takes his breath away, loud yet so warm and pleasant. The lack of oxygen doesn’t matter. All the distress of the past few days melts; as long as you two stay together, the tension is relieved.

“Jeez, you’re lucky you’re the love of my life,” he lightly shakes his head, “...otherwise I would run away from you as fast as I can.” he lies, lightly bumping your shoulder.

Fixing quite unconsciously his signature bleached hair, always perfectly styled, has been his tic for ages. The first time you noticed it was when he nervously tried to divert attention from his blushing, finally bent on making a move on you. You two were friends, but head over the heels for each other.

He smiles at himself; even the thought alone of spending the eternity in that purgatory without you is inconceivable.

“Why don’t you write a book with all these bad jokes?!” he mocks you.

“Only with you as a ghostwriter!” and proud of your quick-but-cheap pun, you put on a massive shit-eating grin on your face.

“Are you fucking with me, Y/N?” Xavier smiles at you lovingly, pinching your side that he knows is a ticklish-weak-spot. 

Your body twitches to escape his hold and push his hands away, but when you grab his wrists something shifts inside you. Are your eyes clouded with…is it lust? You’re not sure what it is, but you give him a little smirk, and, much to Xavier’s surprise, you straddle him placing your hands on his toned chest.

“Not yet, babe…unless it is what you want.”

“God Y/N, you suck at flirting” he claims but the groan that slips out means he can’t hide his arousal as much as he would.

“Teach me, then. Still got the moves?” you slightly shift, making sure to adjust your position with a slow grind against his half-boner. He hisses and lets out a little moan in response.

“Very well, but I think we should work on your flexibility first.”

What follows is a series of slow open-mouthed kisses on your jaw and love bites on his neck. You will never get tired of this, not even in a million years.

“Hey, Romeo and Ghouliet! Stop fucking your brains out and get over here…we have a sort of guest.” Chet screams from the lakeshore.

“We are not!” You both manage to say, reluctantly interrupting your heated kiss.

“I’m dead dears, not stupid.” the brunette winks.

Damn cockblocker.

“A guest?” Xavier questions, tilting his head and looking at you as if you know what Chet is talking about. You shrug and ask the athlete who this person is and what exactly they want.

“I think it’s about our…condition. Clairvoyance shit, I don’t know. Her name is Billie Dean Howard or something.” Chet explains, not sure either what all this is about.

Xavier is the first to get up, helping you do the same.

“Maybe she’s just a ghost-obsessed freak who wants to reopen the camp?!” you wonder out loud and tenderly link your hand with your boyfriend’s, ready to go.

“Yeah, maybe. But it wouldn’t be a bad idea, though.”

[author-morgan]

The reader being jealous yes pleaseee☺️

Here you are nonny, hope you don’t mind that I took things to the more lemony side. [also I assumed this one was tied to the ask “Omg plz write more about alexios”]

Alexios x fem!Reader

THE LAST TIME Aristophanes hosted a symposium, it ended in disaster —for you at least. One of the playwrights spilled wine all over your favorite dress and the courtesans refused to let Alexios be even after they’d seen him enter the party with you on his arm. You left the party upset and perhaps even mildly jealous. Tonight though, you’d take your own portion of sweet vengeance. 

It’s a scarlet peplos with an untraditional neckline that dips down past your sternum and has golden chains to hold the sides together at your hips that you know will add fuel to the ongoing war of teasing you and Alexios have declared on one another. He steps into the room and swallows hard when he sees the dress. “You’re wearing that tonight?” Alexios asks, voice suddenly parched. 

“I am,” you remark turning away from the looking glass, tossing two braided ropes of hair over your shoulder. “Do you like it?” The question is innocent enough, but the intentions behind it less so. He’s always been touchy and with an ensemble this revealing you know it will be a struggle for him.  

His bottom lip is between his teeth as he takes in the divine sight before him. “Yeah,” Alexios rasps, rubbing the back of his neck and diverting his gaze to the bare stone wall, “that’s the problem.” Your lips kink as you pass him, motioning for him to follow along —it was rude to show up late after all. 

Sokrates and Euripides are quick to draw Alexios into a conversation and Alkibiades takes to you. You’ve known Allie since the two of you were children, always getting into trouble and creating more headaches for Perikles. Alkibiades can tell by the look that you’re up to something. 

“You look ravishing tonight,” he remarks with a teasing simper, eyes quickly darting down the length of your body. He’d entertained the thought of seducing you in the past, but he couldn’t —you’ve been a sister to him for so many years. “Is this because of what Damalia did at the last gathering?” He questions, one eyebrow raised. 

“Am I that predictable?” You query in return. Allie laughs, handing you a cup of wine. 

“Xanthippe mentioned she wanted to speak with you–” he takes a long drag from his own cup of wine and watches as your eyes flit over to Alexios “–don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the competition, myself included.” You roll your eyes and give Allie a nod of thanks before joining Sokrates' wife in a private room off the courtyard. 

Taking your leave of the gossiping ladies after some time, you spot Alexios lounging in a corner —tired of the conversation. You take a seat next to him on a floor cushion, swinging your legs across his lap deciding this is a good time to push the bounds of his patience. He knows the glint in your eyes all too well. Ignoring the look of warning, you lay a hand on his thigh, unwittingly rubbing circles over the taut muscle with your thumb. Your hand slides up his thigh a little more and a budding hint of satisfaction grows when he shifts, spreading his legs a fraction wider. “Behave,” Alexios hisses, gripping onto your wrist before your hand can move any farther. 

Leaning in, you press your lips against the juncture of his jaw and ear. “Why don’t you make me?” You challenge, kissing his jaw. 

His grip on your wrist tightens and his other hand moves to rest on your lower back. “Don’t tempt me, love,” Alexios responds his own gaze darkening. Taking a chance, you kiss him —knowing no one in the room would be paying attention to the two of you, tucked in a dim corner. You bite down on his bottom lip and devour the rough groan torn from his throat. You pull back with a smile —you’ve won this round. 

Alexios grips onto your hand, practically dragging you out of the villa. He has you thrown over his shoulder by the time you reach your small home in Athens and a trice after that, he’s has you bare before him —the scarlet dress puddled around your ankles. Alexios surges forward, and takes your lips between his teeth, rolling his tongue over your bottom lip and then sucking. His hands slide down your back, cupping your bum for a moment before he hoists you into the air close to him until you’re sitting on his forearms with your legs nowhere to go but around his waist. Your hands bury themselves in his soft hair out of instinct. 

You barely register it when your back hits the softness of a pile of pillows and Alexios settles himself on top of you. When you reach for the pin holding his exomis up, he swats your hand away and sits back on his haunches. He always takes a moment to marvel at the sight of your bare, splayed out beneath him, but then he doffs himself of the exomis and loincloth. A small, smug smirk tugs on the corner of his lips as he puts together the pieces of the charade you’d played all night. “You’re jealous,” he concludes. 

The observations turn your cheeks a bright shade of red. “Am not,” you refute, too quickly and harshly to be true. He traces his fingertips over a line from your neck to navel, rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine,” you breathe, fighting the urge to cross your arms and pout. “I was jealous.”

Alexios nuzzles your neck, and you can feel the smile on his lips when he kisses the spot where your pulse is racing before drawing back to look at you. “You’ve nothing to worry about,” he whispers —bringing one of your hands to his chest, “my heart is yours and only yours.” But then he slides your hand down his abdomen, past his navel, and gives a wicked smirk when he cups his semi-hard cock and balls with your hand. “And so is this.”

He devours the soft laugh that leaves your lips at the statement. Your laugh turns into a sharp gasp when two fingers slide into your heat, curling deep within you. Alexios’ face contorts and breath catches when you wrap your hand around him —stroking until his cock is hard and pulsing within your hand. He rips your hand away and dips his head down, dragging the scruff of his chin over your breast before drawing a pebbled nipple between his teeth. 

Your fingers push through his hair again, holding him against you as his fingers work you the way Hephaestus works hot steel. “Alexios, I need you,” you choke when he presses his thumb into your clit. The soft plea is a siren’s song to his ears. There’ll be many more opportunities for him to take his time, but right now you need him, badly. 

Alexios’ fingers slip from your heat and he positions the head of his cock at your dripping slit, tracing over it with excruciating slowness until you’re covered in each other’s slick. He rests a finger on top of your clit, and then in a fluid motion, he buries himself to the hilt as he presses on your bundle of nerves. He relishes the noise it draws from your throat and the furrow of your brows —eyes half-lidded. 

He braces his weight on his forearms and seeks your lips with his own. You stay unmoving for a while, your cunt fluttering around him until you see Alexios’ restraint is hanging by a thread. You grind your hips, a silent signal for him to move within you, and soon you’re a breathy, writhing mess beneath him as he thrusts —first slowly— until his movements increase in speed, a crescendo you can also feel in your body. 

“Lexi,” you cry, hands digging into his biceps. He doesn’t cease his movements when he latches onto your breast, roughly biting and sucking until you’re whimpering soft cries and pleas and praises. His other hand caresses the curve of your hip and bum. Alexios' head falls forward and he can see his cock sliding in-and-out of your warmth, again and again, breasts bouncing with each thrust. 

You open your legs wider, beckoning him deeper and feel yourself coming close to the edge of release, the coiling of energy deep within your core, and you reach down to guide his fingers to your clit. And when his fingers begin their familiar rhythm, his lips crash onto yours, urgent, and your walls clench around him, toes curling, and heels pressing into the pillows scattered around. Alexios groans into your mouth. He presses harder against your clit and swallows the hoarse moan that spills from your lips, his lips moving in tight strokes but his resolve begins to slip. 

Alexios throws his head back, the tendons in his neck straining as his whole body shudders. He lazily thrusts into you, then stills, dropping back down to his forearms, sliding his softening cock out of your warmth —sweaty chests pressed together. You kiss the corner of his lips before he rolls onto his back, chest heaving and wearing a wide grin. “Are we even yet?” He asks with breathy laughter. 

“Maybe,” you muse, propping your chin upon his chest, running your fingers over the dark smattering of his chest hair. Alexios’ hand slides down your back, giving your bum a rough squeeze followed by a soft swat. You laugh softly, pushing forward and placing a short kiss to the tip of his nose. Yours and Alexios’ games are fun but tiring after some time. “How about you make breakfast in the morning, and we’ll call it even?” You suggest. 

He nods, smile never fading, and settles his lips on yours to seal the deal. Breaking apart with a contented sigh, Alexios slips one of his arms under you and drags you closer to him. He turns his head, lips ghosting across your forehead —his thumb rubbing soft lines over your shoulder blade. It’s in these moments you really feel like the luckiest woman in all Hellas. 

[tagging my fellow Alexios lovers @nemo-my-name-forevermore @levikra @nonelleke and @wallsarecrumbling, if you want to be added to my tag list drog a message in my inbox!]

[elena-reina]

Shut Up and Kiss Me - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request:  I have a request and this is my first! I'd live to say I love tour writing, though. May I get a super fluffy story where draco knows this Ravenclaw and begins to crush on her from afar? They end up having a bunch if classes to gether and he always sees her writing some sort of notes. Then he ends up finding out she's only a half-blood and becomes really conflicted with his feelings. Then, after a while he begins to find little notes with snake and bird doodles then confronts her? Plz and thx - Anon

Warnings: FLUFFFFF

"Look there she goes.”

Draco’s eyes traveled across the room, following where you went. He had developed a crush on you ever since he started paying attention to how fiery of a person you are.

“Listen, Professor. I understand what you are saying about Hippogriff’s, however they are beautiful creatures and should not be discriminated against,” you spoke out toward that pink-dressed maniac commonly known as Professor Umbridge.

The whole class has quieted down, now staring at the scene unfold. Draco, amused, leaned back in his seat and folded his arms loving the conversation at hand.

Even though, a hippogriff did try and attack him once.

“Now you listen here you-”

“And I know, I know!  The half-horse, half-eagle creatures are immensely proud and can extremely dangerous. BUT! They are only prone to attack with their razor-sharp beaks and foot-long talons if they are not shown respect,” you continued, “But, if you refuse to show them respect, of which I’m sure won’t be very hard for you Professor with all due respect, you will get attacked.”

You smiled innocently, knowing that she is beyond pissed off.

“That is ENOUGH! I do not want to hear anymore of your mouth, Y/L/N you will report to my office this afternoon, are we understood?” Umbridge’s shrilling voice yelled aloud.

Draco’s stomach began to knot. Whatever Professor Umbridge had planned would not be good. He’s heard rumors about what goes on in her office and he would hate to hear any of it happen to you.

You stood your ground, and sat down calmly.

“I have not said nor done anything wrong, so I will NOT be joining you in your office, Professor.”

Biting his lip, Draco wanted to step in and do something. He knew things were only going to escalate for the worse, but he also knew stepping in would put him on Umbridge’s bad side. So it was a lose-lose either way.

If it were even possible, Umbridge’s face got even more red than before.

“MISS Y/L/N!”

Draco quickly stood up.

“Professor, Y/L/N is feeling a bit under the weather and becomes snippy when so. Please excuse her, she does not mean to be disrespectful.”

Your eyes glanced towards his, as he shot you a look to shut up. You turned back towards Umbridge and forced a cough out.

“It’s true. I’m terribly ill,” you sighed,” I’m barely getting over it.”

There was a long silence until she spoke up.

“Very well. You will be cleaning the halls then when you are feeling better. I expect them to be done within a week at most,” she glared and stormed out.

From that moment on, Draco knew you were something special. He even went out of his way to get the same classes as you. But you guys have not ever spoken, and if so it was as quick as saying excuse me to pass through.

Sometimes you would glance his way, but quickly divert your eyes when you sensed him about to look up. There was definitely chemistry between you two. Everyone else saw it and felt it. Knowing you’d never have the courage to speak to him directly, you did what you do best.

Draw.

You loved to draw, and what better to draw than yours and his houses together. The raven and the serpent. You’d draw them on little pieces of paper with different styles and textures each time and throw them inside of your notebooks for safe keeping.

And what’s even better is that Draco took an interest into what it could be you’re writing. Given, he would not care if he saw you writing every once and a while, however this was not the case. In every class he’s walked into with you in it, you always had your head down writing whatever it was in your notes.

Day by day, Draco’s infatuation grew. He was beginning to get the courage to ask you out, however nothing is ever that easy. With Draco being the Slytherin King, there were bound to be a few obstacles, and by obstacles I mean jealous people.

And who might that be? 

Take a guess.

“Drakey! Drakey!” Pansy’s voice yelled through the halls. She noticed how Draco’s attention span would focus less on her and more onto you. This blew her over the edge, especially the moment she found out not only are you not from the same house, but you are a half-blood.

And there’s no way he would ever get with you, Pansy was sure of it. She had to be.

Draco rolled his eyes and kept walking.

“What do you want Pansy, I’m trying to get to class,” he sneered, not stopping once to meet her pace.

“I have something extremely important to tell you,” she said, tugging on his arm.

“Well out with it,” he said.

“I know you are beginning to like that Ravenclaw girl,” she began.

“Her name is Y/L/N, and none of that concerns you,” he spat, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Pansy with a glare.

“I know it doesn’t, but I just thought you’d like to know that she isn’t your type. She’s not pure, like you Drakey and doesn’t deserve you. She’s only a half-blood,” she giggled, batting her eyes innocently. 

Draco took a pause and continued walking, shaking Pansy off his arm.

You were a half-blood. He would have never guessed.

The next day, Draco didn’t know what to think. He still did very much like you, but due to your status he was conflicted. 

A pure blood dating a half-blood? It didn’t make any sense!

But somehow, a little part of him wasn’t completely opposed to the idea.

Still lost in his thoughts, Draco wasn’t watching where he was going and crashed into something soft making him stumble a bit.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going-”

In front of him was you. While he stumbled, you completely fell to the ground, papers surrounding you everywhere. Groaning you sat up on your knees and began to collect your papers.

Regretting what he just said, he also bent down on his knees and began to help you collect your papers. 

“O-oh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t see- I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he quickly apologized.

You nodded, trying to quickly grab all your drawings before he could see them. And then as you stuck out your hand to grab one of the last papers, you instead touched the top of his hand. 

Draco grabbed the paper and turned it around, peering at the drawing on the paper. On it was a beautifully drawn black raven with a scaly serpent surrounding it. 

“Did you draw this?” he asked. Your cheeks flushed pink, nodding. 

“It’s amazing, truly. All the detail is very keen, why’d you choose to draw these in particular?” he asked, looking into your eyes.

Deep down, he kind of knew, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I guess... I just... I wanted to draw the house’s mascots,” you spoke flustered.

He let out a little chuckle.

“Okay, so where’s Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?”

“Well, you see-”

“As a matter of fact,” he paused and grabbed the other papers out of your hands and began to look at them,” All of these are a raven and serpent together.”

You were at a loss for words.You only knew that speaking any more would just dig yourself into a bigger hole.

“You like me, don’t you?” he suddenly spoke aloud. Actually hearing those words, made you feel numb. 

You did, but how was he gonna take it. Especially with you being a half-blood. You knew his status, you knew how cruel the Slytherin’s could be.

However before you could comprehend anything, your eyes widened as Draco leaned over pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, sweet, and hesitant. It was like he was expecting you to pull away, but you didn’t.

Instead, you closed your eyes and kissed him back. You’ve wanted to do this for the longest. Your heart was pounding hard against your rib cage and you could feel butterflies going crazy in your stomach. Draco pulled away, resting his head against yours as your eyes lightly fluttered open. He was looking at you nervously through his cloudy grey eyes.

You were beyond ecstatic, but you knew it would never work.

“I... Malfoy,” you said, emotionally pained, “I’m.. not a... pure blood like you.”

You turned away, defeated at what could have been. He reached out, gripping your chin and turned you back to face him.

“I know and I appreciate your honesty, Y/L/N. And believe me, I’ve thought about it, but I don’t care,” he spoke.

Your body began to turn numb again.

Was this really happening?

Did those words actually come out his mouth?

“You’ve had no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that to-”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you grinned, throwing your arms around his neck, confidently pulling him close to you, and kissed him.

[peculiarmindset]

Are you taking prompts? If you are, I have one for YoI. Viktor+Yuuri+Yurio out to eat, Yurio keeps burping at the table and the older guys are all "knock it off, that's rude!" But then one (or both!) of them accidentally burps and suddenly they're hypocrites. (Burp only plz)

I’m always open to taking prompts! And hehe, this one sounds fun XD

URRRRRRP!  

“Yurio!” Yuuri and Victor both chided the blonde teenager.

The ‘podium family’ were currently out, having a nice dinner at a homey but very popular family restaurant. Of course, the skaters (especially Yurio) was in disguise, as to hide from any of their fans.

Victor and Yuuri had invited the teenager out to dinner with them, and Yurio begrudgingly agreed to their offer (only because it was a free meal and he had nothing better to do, dammit!)

“Uuurrrrppp! Oh fuck off! It’s-uurp! all this damn soda’s-ulp! fault!” Yurio burped, rolling his eyes at them. He was never good with carbonated drinks, but the soda he had ordered seemed to have more…bubbles in it than other sodas.

And now, the teen found himself helpless as he couldn’t help but let out all of his burps.

“You should at least say 'excuse me’ Yurio! Where are your manners?” Victor told him, pointing his fork at the blonde teen.

Yuuri sighed as he gently pushed down Victor’s hand that was holding up the fork. “It’s also rude to point your cutlery at others too, Victor.” The Japanese man pointed out.

Yurio snorted as Victor pouted at being scolded by his fiancé. Yuuri faced towards the teen and raised an eyebrow at the him. “Yurio, burping in public, especially in a  restaurant, is rude. Victor’s right and you should excuse yourself.” he said sternly.

The blonde huffed but didn’t give a rude comeback to the Japanese pig since the man spoke to him nicely (unlike that rude fiancé of his). “Urrrp! Fine! Excuse me….$&@*%…” Yurio grumbled incoherently at the end, sulking into his seat.

Yuuri gave him a kind smile as he reached forward to comb back a few stray strands of hair that had gotten onto the blonde’s forehead. Yurio batted the hand away but stopped his grumbling.

As the the couple began talking about the upcoming season, Yurio decided to play a little prank on them (at first he was just gonna prank Victor, but he decided to add in Yuuri as well because the blonde also considered this as payback for all the times he had to witness the couple’s gross PDA on a daily basis).

He ordered two more glasses of the same bubbly soda, making sure the two men in front of him were still occupied by their discussion.

When the sodas arrived, Yurio shouted out something and pointed to the window behind them. While the couple’s attention were diverted, Yurio quickly switched their waters with his sodas (both liquids were clear-colored) and he added a healthy amount of hot sauce to their spaghettis (thank god they ordered something red).

“I don’t see any strange old man outside.” Victor frowned as he and Yuuri turned back in their seats.

Yurio shrugged. “I guessed I must have mistaken it for the old man with shedding silver hair in front of me?”

Victor gasped as he clutched his chest, wearing a look of agony on his face. “My hair is NOT shedding! Yuuri! Yurio called me old and shedding!” He whined towards the other.

The Japanese man unfortunately was too busy laughing to defend his offended fiance. “Yuuri!” Victor pouted, noticing his fiancé was close to tears in laughter.

Yurio merely crossed his arms in front of his chest, making sure to keep his face looking bored and secretly anticipating what was gonna conspire next.

And the next moment did go exactly as he had planned- as soon as the two men calmed down, they both dug into their meals. Not even ten seconds after taking a bite of their spaghetti, they were both frantic from the extreme spiciness as they quickly reached for their drinks.

The teenager watched as both men chugged down at least half their glasses before lowering their drinks, a strange expression on both their faces.

UUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP!

UUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP!

Yurio bursted out in loud laughter as the two men in front of him let out the largest, wettest belches he had ever heard (aside from those fake burps you hear on tv and stuff). Their burps nearly brought that whole place down.

As it was, both Victor and Yuuri’s faces were bright red as pretty much all the eyes in the restaurant were on them. “YURI-OOUURRRRPPPP!” Victor yelled before it immediately turned into another loud burp. The silver-haired Russian quickly clamped his mouth shut with his hand, looking horrified.

Yuuri, on the other hand, didn’t bother to say anything as he kept his own mouth covered, letting out smaller burps in quick sessions. The Japanese man really wanted to die right then and there.

And young Yurio merely sat back in his seat, giving the burpy duo in front of him a wide, shit-eating grin on his face. “What? It’s not my fault you two can’t control yourselves- and we’re in a restaurant too, you know.” He pointed out mockingly at them. As the couple reddened even more at that, Yurio let out a loud sigh, shaking his head sadly.

“Haahhhhh…and really, you’re not even gonna say, 'excuse me’ afterwards?  I guess I’m not the only one here with no manners, huh?” He scoffed.

This will show them to never mess with the Russian tiger ever again.

[ijustwant2write]

The Funny Foreigners-Ragnar Lothbrok x Reader One Shot

(A/N: WOOHOO! ANOTHER REQUEST! I’m so glad you guys are asking for stuff, I love hearing other people’s ideas. Keep them coming! 🙆)

(GIF credit to owner)

Masterlist

Summary: This was requested by anonymous: ‘Can you do a Ragnar request plz where ur a princess in England and he comes over with his army to England (rolla, flokia). He meets the king cause they’re making an alliance, then him and his army meet the princess. He takes a liking to her because she’s cheeky, likes riding her horse and sneaking off into the woods, and goes into the woods in secret to practice her shooting with her bow. Then the king and Ragnar make a deal that she has to marry him and she finds out when it’s announced at the feast.’ I hope you enjoy it!

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name (Y/LN)= Your last name (Y/F/N)= Your father’s name

Characters: Ragnar Lothbrok x Reader

Warnings: Just fluff. Also this is a big long.

Another A/N: I’m going to use quotation marks instead of speech marks when the characters are supposed to be speaking Old Norse.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I sat at the window in one of the towers of my family castle, looking out across the land. A huge army was heading our way though not to battle. Vikings were here in England now, raiding and claiming land. When I first heard of this, I was petrified; they were known for their victories in battles. But my family were lucky, we had a history with the pagans, a good one too. Hopefully that would be useful.

My great-grandfather befriended one of the vikings rulers, making an alliance. Since then we had relied on that to keep us safe from them but there seemed to be a problem now. I prayed everyday that my father would fix this.

The vikings were going to take the whole day to get here. Why waste the day watching them? Jumping from the window ledge, I made my way out of the castle and sneaked towards the stables. Along the way I watched my people, all of them looking nervous at the thought of Vikings coming to negotiate; we had forewarned them so that no fighting would commence. As I entered the stables, my horse made a noise of greeting, nudging my body with his head.

“Shh, father doesn’t know I’m here, as usual.” I whispered, starting to saddle him up. Under his blanket was my bow and some arrows, hidden from the rest of the world.

I had gotten so used to this now. Father didn’t mind if I went out riding, as long as I had a chaperone. But that was so boring, how was I supposed to gallop through the forests and explore new parts with someone on my tail? Due to doing this most of the time, I knew how to get to the forest without anyone spotting me and once again I had achieved this. My horse was very strong, he was faster than all the others causing the wind to increase and make me feel like I was flying.

We stopped as I got deeper in, the training space our guards used coming into view. Smiling to myself, I hopped off, tied him up before cheerfully walking to the targets. From a young age I had always been interested in fighting though no one would show me. However whenever my uncle visited, he would sneak with me into the woods, going behind my father’s back to train me; we could only cover archery though. Over the years I had improved immensely but no one would see that.

Just as I shot the first arrow near the bullseye, I heard crowds of people and horses. That must be the vikings. They travelled fast. Running towards the noise, I wanted to see if I could see them. Looking out, I could just about spot them coming over the hills. My heart started to beat faster with excitement. Although my father would not let me learn how to fight or go anywhere by myself, he taught me about the pagans, they were just fascinating.

Throughout training, I kept on checking the progress of the vikings and how close they were. When I decided that they were almost here, I made my way back, smiling the whole time. It turned out I underestimated the pagans as they were already there when I got back. Quickly climbing off my horse, I gave him to one of the stable boys before rushing to the front castle steps. Father, his courtiers, guards and the vikings were all there, everyone watching as I ran to them.

“Sorry, sorry, I did not mean to be late.” I could feel the blush form on my face.

“As I was saying, my daughter would not dare to direspect our guests by turning up late.” my father stated, pulling a was out of my hair.

The group of vikings chuckled, diverting my attention to them, or rather, one of them. He stood in front of the group, clearly the leader. His blue eyes were what captured me, he had a strong physique about him too; I loved his hair as well, quite a few of these men were gorgeous.

'Forgive me, I did not mean to disrespect you.’ I spoke their native tongue.

The leader seemed surprised, speaking English.“You speak very good Norse.” His accent was thick.

I smiled.'And so is your English.’ This was only a very small portion of the vikings. Some were guarding the boats, Some were camping outside our walls and this small group was here to negotiate. I learnt that the leader was the great Ragnar Lothbrok I had heard so much about. The rumours were true; he was strong, smart, witty and handsome. My father had announced that there would be a feast tomorrow to honour our guests as well as whatever agreement we came to. Unfortunately I did not speak to any of the vikings again, but Ragnar was in my dreams that night.

The next morning we had guests at breakfast. Ragnar, his brother Rollo, friend Floki and some of his other advisors. I sat next to my father, across from Ragnar, a nice compliment to my breakfast.

Ragnar was the first to speak.“I thank you for your kindess and for letting us stay. We are glad that you want to create an alliance.”

“Of course Ragnar, it is an honour to have you here. We shall discuss this later though, when my daughter is no longer present.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to not scoff. Ragnar spotted this.

“Why can’t your daughter be here? Does she not get a say?”

“She is a woman, they don’t have a say in most things.”

“Well, from where we’re from, women are very, very important. They’re are many shieldmaidens, probably better than most of your men.”

I smiled, looking at him from under my lashes. He smirked back, winking as well.

After breakfast, I was told that I had to attend some lessons, which I would obviously not. As I walked through the corridors, I could hear someone following me. Before I could see who it was, Ragnar turned me around, still smirking like earlier.

“Princess.” He greeted.

'King.’ I said back.

“I do not have a lot of time left in your kingdom. Please, would you show me around your home?”

I really wanted to, ever so, but I knew what others would say.“I do not think that is wise.”

“Why not?” His smirk never faltered.

I did the same, beginning to walk away.“Because it is frowned upon for a man to be left alone with a woman, especially a funny foreigner.”

He caught up to me.“Funny foreigner? So you treat all your guests this way princess?”

“No, only the ones in interested in.”

Of course I showed him around. It would be out of my nature to obey my father’s orders. Ragnar did not seem phased by the looks we were given or the fact he was risking breaking an alliance. It felt risky, and I liked it, it gave me a sense of excitement I hadn’t felt before. All men I had come across before were so boring, always playing by the rules or scared stiff of my father. But not Ragnar.

“And this is where the men train.” we had somehow ended up walking all the way into the forest where I had been earlier. Being with him, it felt as if time didn’t exist.

“Have you ever been here? Trained I mean.” he asked as he inspected the equipment.

For some reason, it felt as if I could trust him.“Only in secret. My uncle trained me in archery for a while but he left. I’m still not very good.”

Ragnar looked at the target where my arrow still was then back to me. Pursing his lips, he gestured for me to go to him. My feet moved before my mind could decide. His hands went to my waist and I slightly gasped at this close contact.

He stood behind me, hands still.“Shh, I’m helping you.” he whispered, shivers going down my spine.

He began to position me the way you would stood whilst shooting. I could feel his body so close to mine, yet at the same time it wasn’t close enough. After he felt that I was in the correct stance, he snaked his arms around mine.

“W-what are you doing?” I stuttered almost silently.

“I’m helping you to shoot better.”

“But there’s no bow…or arrow.”

“We don’t need one.” I loved the feeling of his hands grasping onto mine, mimicing the feeling of aiming. Our heads were touching as we looked at the target.

“Now, fire.” he instructed.

I listened, releasing my breath I had been holding as I did so. God, what was this man doing to me?! After that flustering moment, we carried on walking together. He acted as if nothing had happened but I think I was the quietest I had ever been in my whole life. Ragnar knew he had got me, I bet he was like this with women all the time; I didn’t mind it though.

The feast was finally upon us. As my handmaidens helped me get ready, I decided to wear my most beautiful (somewhat revealing) dress, wanting Ragnar to be amazed when he gazed his eyes on me. This man was amazing. I had barely talked to him and he already had me wrapped around his finger. Now I wanted to do the same to him.

The sound of music but me as I entered the hall as well as the smell of mead and food, and the heat from the mass of people. Out of everyone in that room, my eyes still landed on Ragnar first. It seemed that he had done the same as he made his way over.

“Princess,” he licked his lips as his eyes looked me up and down,“you look ravishing.”

I grabbed some mead, looking elsewhere.'King, might I say you look…less barbaric tonight.’

He chuckled.“Thank you. But I think we both know that you like that about me.”

“Do I? I’m sure there’s a few more things I like.” The flirting was interrupted by my father standing from his throne, holding his hand out for the music to be stopped. Everyone turned to face him, wondering what he would say.

“Friends, family, I thank you for attending this feast. Our friends from across the sea have come to our country, and although they may be enemies of some, they aren’t to us.” he raised his cup to Ragnar who did the same.“My family has been close friends with their people for many years but now I feel that the alliance has to be made stronger. We respect these people, we want to remain close allies. Which is why I have come up for a way that the bond can never be broken.”

“And what would that be my King?” Ragnar asked impatient as he drank more mead.

“For you and my daughter to marry.”

Surprisingly there was an eruption of cheers and applause from my people and the vikings. I was shocked by all this. Me, the princess was going to marry a viking, not some good moraled, boring Christian man! This was such good news, I could have a new, exciting life. Looking up at Ragnar, he was already smiling.

He leaned in close.“Looks like you’ll have to learn a little more than archery, my princess.”

'Then you’ll have to teach me, my King.’

[iincandcscence-a-blog]

DEAD ( MAKE ME CRY PLZ )

» MEME:  send ‘dead’ for my muse to react to your muse’s death.  ||  accepting. 

     🔥  ;;  »»  one moment he was fighting by her, defending her from any rogue that tried to lay a hand on her.  he’d taken a few hits that were intended to kill her, performed many fatal shots on the opponent;  his movements were more calculated, an attempt to keep her safe.  a lingering promise in the back of his processor.

don’t harm her.

in a way, protecting her from harm was part of this deal.  he didn’t want her to get so fatally wounded in the midst of a fight, when ratchet or first aid or even velocity couldn’t help her.  his desperation to keep her safe caused him to think less of himself and more of her;  such was his way of life, to want to place safety of others above all.  every contingency plan, every strategy, even the people he chose to stand beside him were always carefully planned.  never again did he wish for something wrong to happen because of another, like with dealer, or getaway, or even brainstorm (  who, admittedly, he eventually forgave  ).  he’d chosen his allies well and he hoped that it would serve him well.

it brought him to wonder how the decepticons here had caught them so off guard.  was there another rogue element in his team?  this battle was filled with struggle, dust and energon staining his bright colored metal, cerulean optics having to be shielded in some way or another and a mic extended to relay to his team.  the chatter was not much;  it was mostly rodimus trying to coordinate a thorough attack, trying to prevent harm from each of his team.  with vivace in the mix, he held most concern for her.

the next moment, as he charged forth to burn up some more bots that opposed him (  while dangerous to himself  ),  rodimus was separated from vivace.  in the carnage of the decepticons trying to take down their strongest fighters, including himself, he couldn’t go to find her.  the lingering promise pushed forward, reminding himself of what he had said he wouldn’t do.  and so, trying to push through the decepticons, rodimus struggled to find her.  in his carelessness, he felt himself fly back, landing with a loud thud as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.  it wasn’t until a short time later did he reawaken, hearing the muffled cries of someone familiar…

he tried to move, sight almost static as he tried to see what was going on;  to no avail could he see very far.  he couldn’t feel much below his knee joints, guessing that he had rerouted his pain receptors subconsciously before waking up properly.  arms slowly moved, golden servos slowly pressing into the ground and feeling the dirt go into the seams ever so slightly, as he then struggled to lift himself up.  there was a loud ringing in his audial receptors as there was yet another explosion dangerously close to him, smell of burning energon filling his olfactory sensors and deterring him from the scene.  it caused him to stumble in his stance, static filling his voice as he forced it to reset along with his optics.

soon he found himself surrounded by what he could make out to be bodies of the fallen, mostly of the ones they had been fighting against, though worry was soon ever present as he tried to call out for vivace.  when there wasn’t yet a response, he hesitantly crawled to his pedes, balance completely off and causing him to collapse multiple times as he moved.

          ❛  vivace…!  vivvie, where are you?  ❜

it was quieter than he had seen it before.  he wondered if he was out for longer than he was supposed to have been.  there was a worried look that crossed his face as he tried his best to climb over the masses, spotting a few still standing, fighting in the distance.  he swore he could see her silhouette of vivace, a slight smile dancing across his face.  so she was okay, and holding her own.

as soon as he had diverted his gaze away, a sudden wave of pain washed over him, the prime feeling himself collapsing to the ground, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe.  there was an aching yet sharp pain in his spark, pulling him further to the ground and gripping at his chassis, trying not to cry out in agony.  he immediately shifted his servos to his helm as he whimpered, unsure of how he was meant to react.  if it was supposed to be so excruciating.  as the pain subsided, but only subtly so, rodimus felt as if he was emptier than before.  as if there was something missing that his spark longed for, his frame shaking from the sudden experience.  questions were quick to come and go through his processor;  what was it?  what had he done to cause this?  last he checked, he didn’t sustain any wounds nearby his chassis, so perhaps it was…

          ❛  no.  ❜

rodimus hastily stood, trying to run, stumbling over his pedes as he cried out helplessly for vivace.  this couldn’t be happening.  this wasn’t what happened and he just had a sudden wave of pain from some sort of injury he had sustained without being aware.  he was just imagining this up and he did not just feel what he thought he felt━

by the time he had gotten there, ratchet was leaning over someone on the ground, hastily trying to work, drift trying to divert rodimus’ attention.  when it didn’t work, when rodimus shoved his friend aside and tried to reach ratchet, ultra magnus had to step in.  tell him that he was heavily wounded and he needed to take some time to get examined.  the speedster could only glare and shove him aside, collapsing to the ground from his loss of balance.  with static in his voice, inconsistent muttering coming from him, he did his best to see what ratchet was trying to do.

or, what he tried to do.

optics widened at the sight of vivace on the ground, her once bright colors dulled to grey, optics holding none of the life that they used to.  his fears proved to be true, his servos shaking immensely as he reached for her own, feeling how cold they were.  how cold they shouldn’t have been.  he then lowered his servos to the wound that ratchet had tried to fix, golden digits soon tainted purple with the color of the energon.  no.  he couldn’t believe this was happening.

          ❛  ratchet, please, please tell me you can save her!  please.  for the love of primus, she can’t have━  i couldn’t━  ratchet, please, i’ll do anything!  i just…  i can’t…  ❜

azure optics glanced around to the crestfallen looks given to him by his comrades, his friends, as he felt his spark ache in denial.  rodimus glanced back to vivace, stifled whimpers and cries emitting from his frame as he slowly pulled her into his arms, cradling her as if she would come back at any moment.

          ❛  please, vivvie, please don’t leave me, you━  you can’t.  i promised.  i promised.  ❜

any attempt to move the captain or her was immediately met by aggressive protest.  once all have realized that it was best to leave both her and rodimus be, they left one by one, all until drift was left to sit by and watch his friend choke on his sobs and his pained cries.

the battlefield was all quiet, too quiet for rodimus to handle.  he was going to miss those pure moments of laughter, her stories, her jokes and her dancing.  the moments of intimacy where he would lean on her for support, and in turn gave each other the love that they both needed.  the moments where rodimus would have to step back and sigh in happiness when he saw her, when she would talk to another bot that flirted with her and he’d intervene.  those moments where their servos lingered together even as they went their separate ways, those looks they gave each other long after the joke was over.

          ❛  i’m so sorry, vivvie.  i━  i couldn’t protect you.  ❜

he was lost without her.

[foilfreak]

(LOL JK, I WROTE BOTH CHAPTERS IN LIKE 4 HOURS. NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM!) Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 6

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link posted in comments below)

“SALLY!!!” Angie greets in a cheerfully aggressive way, flying out from nowhere and knocking Salvatore to the ground as he heaves his way up the path toward the Beneviento estate.

“G-good evening… A-Angie… is D-Donna… home? I-I’d like to… t-to speak w-with her” Salvatore asks, somehow not even surprised by the fact that he was currently looking up at the darkening sky as the spastic porcelain doll his sister communicated through frantically flew in circles around him, like a small child who’d been given too much candy all at once.

“Hahaha, ya, she’s here. We saw you coming up the hill, so she should be waiting for you inside” Angie answers, giggling to herself as she slowly levitates up into the air, staring at Salvatore all the while. “This better be worth our time, Sally-boy, or you’ll owe us a huge favor, you got it?” The matrimonially dressed doll croons before frantically taking off toward the house without waiting to see if Salvatore was following, laughing maniacally all the while.

“I-I’ll k-keep that in m-mind…” Salvatore mumbles under his breath, flipping himself upright from the prone position in which he’d landed on his back. Picking himself off the ground, Salvatore took a deep breath, hoping that Donna was in a good enough mood to give him what he needed, before finally following after Angie.

“DONNA! SALLY’S COME FOR A VISIT. I DON’T KNOW WHY, THOUGH!” is what Salvatore hears Angie scream just as he hobbles through the front door of the estate, the Beneviento home looking just as dark and empty, save for all the doll’s of course, as the last time he was here.

“Tores,” Donna greets simply, appearing out of nowhere behind the hooded man, much like her doll had done just moments earlier.

“D-Donna! Y-you’re looking w-well” Salvatore greets back, fiddling nervously in front of the younger woman, his inability to read her expression due to the presence of her black veil causing the deformed man to sweat anxiously, despite both Angie and Donna’s use of their familiar nicknames for him. “How a-are you d-doing? H-have you m-met… your g-gift yet?”

“I have” the veiled woman answers simply, after a long moment of silence, turning her gaze to the other room, where some ornate chairs, a coffee table, and a couch sit in close proximity to one another, creating a delightfully cozy area to host party guests, if such things were to ever actually grace a house such as the Beneviento’s. Currently the only thing the sitting area hosted was a tall, grim looking man, dressed entirely in black, with a pale, gaunt face, and long, unkempt black hair that fell gracefully upon his sleeping face.

“All he’s done since he got here a few hours ago is sleep and stare off into space” Angie whispers quietly to Salvatore. “Donna says he’s just resting and adjusting to being out of the pod for an extended period of time, but I'm starting to think he might just be brain dead.”

“I take it you have met your gift as well?” Donna says suddenly, regaining Salvatore’s attention just as she motions for the deformed man to follow her out of the room and away from the still-sleeping man in the other room.

“U-uuuuuh… y-yes… yes I’ve m-met mine… th-that’s… actually th-the reason w-why I’m… h-here…” Salvatore stutters nervously, as he hobbles behind the younger woman, struggling to keep up as Donna effortlessly floats through the confusing maze of the Beneviento estate.

“Hahaha, keep up, ugly, or I’ll make you test one of my puzzles before entertaining your little request” Angie giggles sadistically as she flies past Salvatore’s shoulder and zooms down the hallway to the left. Hoping that Donna wasn’t purposefully trying to trick him so that Angie could make good on her threat, Salvatore books it down the hall, breathing a sigh of relief when he catches up with Donna just as the funeral clad woman enters her personal quarters.

“I’m sorry for the sudden change in location, but I wanted to give your concerns my full attention without fear of waking Antxon from his slumber” Donna apologized once Salvatore had closed the door to her workshop behind him, removing her veil from her head and placing the ornate head covering on its designated stand, revealing the large, veiny tumors that grew from her right eye to the deformed man. Smiling kindly at Salvatore as the deformed man removes his hood.

“N-no worries” Salvatore assures, lowering his hood to reveal the array of bulbous growths that grew along the front and back of his neck. “I’m j-just glad you… h-have s-some time to h-help me.”

“Of course, it's not a problem at all, Sal. At least, not after the incredible favor you did for me, it isn’t. I didn’t know what I was going to do when that huge storm we had last year broke parts of the waterfall off and flooded the house. I thought I was about to lose everything all over again before you came in and diverted the water flow back down the opposite side of the cliff. The fact that it’s a little late in the evening means nothing if I can repay you for saving what remains of my home” Donna says kindly, a beautiful smile spreading across her face.

Salvatore giggled and looked away in embarrassment, unused to being praised so heavily, even by Donna, the sweetest and calmest of Salvatore’s younger siblings. But regardless of that fact, yes, it’s true, Salvatore is, in fact, the reason why the Beneviento estate still stands proudly, if a bit dilapidated, on the cliff it had been built upon however many centuries ago by Donna’s ancestors. After a large summer storm knocked out several of the rocks that had previously ensured the waterfall pointed parallel to the house, the flow of water was forced to change due to the presence of a new hole through which water could, and did, flow heavily through.

Donna was practically paralyzed from her hysterical sobbing when Salvatore finally arrived with a potential solution to the slow but agonizing destruction of her childhood home. Angie was all but convulsing madly on the ground just a few feet away, a sickeningly humorous display of the debilitating fear and madness that was flying around inside Donna’s brain at that moment. Shockingly, Salvatore’s potential solution, to open up a new, larger hole on the opposite side of the cliff that would hopefully divert the flow of water away from the Beneviento house, ended up being exactly what was needed to solve the problem.

A couple of powerful swings of the tail of his much larger, much stronger fully-mutated form had the rock on the other side of the cliff falling away like small pebbles, allowing the river water to burst forth from the brand new opening. The hole through which water had been escaping onto Donna’s property slowly drained itself of water before stopping altogether, the waterfall having been successfully diverted to the opposite side of the cliff side, saving the Beneviento home from previously certain destruction.

If it weren’t for how understandably distressed and thankful Donna had been due to the results of the situation, Salvatore would have been just a bit annoyed by how frantically she sobbed while insisting upon paying the deformed man back for his kind services. Salvatore didn’t really see the need. He was more than happy to help Donna out with her problem, but he didn’t do it with the intention of getting a favor or payment out of the younger woman. Sure, it would be nice if, because Salvatore did something nice for Donna out of the kindness of his heart, Donna was willing to extend the same kindness to him when he called out for assistance, but that had never been his intention.

He wasn’t Karl, after all.

Regardless, Donna had been insistent that Salvatore may call upon her for whatever he may need in the future, and it would appear as though today was the day that he would be able to take advantage of Donna’s kind offer.

“I-It was n-nothing… I a-assure you… I was… h-happy to do it f-for you… b-but since… y-you offered to d-do something… for m-me… in return f-for what I did… I-I figured I’d… make u-use… of i-it…” Salvatore trails off, hoping he wasn’t imposing too much upon his sister. He knows she said he could ask anything of her, but even someone as talented and powerful as Donna had her limits. The deformed man can only hope that Donna will be able to assist him this time just like she has many times before.

“Of course. What is it that I can do for you? If you’re looking for manual labor of some kind, I’d certainly be willing to lend you as much of a hand as possible, but unfortunately my true skills lie in only a few areas, so I apologize if I prove to not be much help in the long run” Donna says bluntly, though her unintentionally self-deprecating speech is quickly shut down by Salvatore.

“N-no no, not a-at all… I’m w-well aware of… w-where your s-skills lie… and th-that’s why… I’ve c-come to you f-for this” Salvatore explains hurriedly. “I-I need… a dress.”

“A dress?” Donna asks, the rise of her left eyebrow revealing just how much Salvatore’s request had shocked her.

“Y-yes” Salvatore nods his head. “A d-dress… f-for a very beautiful y-young… young woman…” the deformed man says, trailing off as his cheeks begin to burn from outright embarrassment of his own words. How much more desperate and pathetic could he possibly sound?

Donna merely chuckled at the older man’s sudden bashful behavior. “Oh? So you’d like a dress commissioned for your gift would you? Well, isn’t that sweet.”

Salvatore turns away as his whole body burns with shameful embarrassment. Now, it wasn’t as though the deformed man wasn’t comfortable around Donna to talk about these sorts of things, but Salvatore wasn’t nearly as close with Donna as he was with Karl, so a part of the mutant man couldn’t help but wither slightly as the black clad woman’s soft laughs slowly came to a stop.

“Forgive my rudeness, I don’t mean to make you feel bad by laughing at you. I actually think your idea to give your gift a gift of her own is quite smart and charming. Are you looking to woo your gift, Tores?” Donna teases goodnaturedly, using her nickname for him to boot, as she walks over to a nearby drawer and begins pulling out fabrics of various colors and materials, gently placing them all out on the table in the middle of the room for Salvatore to see.

“I-I don’t k-know about… th-that… I th-think I’ll just be h-happy if…i-if we can at l-least… be f-friends.”

“But you would like more?” Donna asks knowingly, smoothing the fabrics out.

Salvatore let's his gaze fall to the floor as he fiddles with the leather bracelet on his left wrist, grimacing as selfishly filthy and domestic thoughts begin to fill the deformed man’s mind, twisted visions of tender embraces, brutal love making, and soft, loving kisses shared in a bed filled with so many children; his children; their children, scattered here, there, and everywhere across the warmth and safety of their nest, filling in every space not currently occupied by either of their parents. Surrounded inside and out by the love of the family he’d never allowed himself to dream of before. Not that Salvatore's sick and disgusting mind could ever come up with an image as pure and wholesome as this one on its own.

“I-I would… I’d l-like… a g-great deal m-more… th-than I’ll p-probably ever b-be worth… b-but I can’t h-help it… she’s just s-so… so… sh-she’s everything I’ve ever w-wanted in life… and s-still someh-how s-so much more… I h-haven’t been able to… t-to stop th-thinking about h-her… since I f-first laid eyes u-upon her… I-I want to g-give her… e-everything… I w-want to be h-her everything… i d-dont know… if it’ll e-ever work… b-but a p-part of me can’t help b-but… can’t help but w-want to try… just t-to see if m-maybe… maybe… i-it could?” Salvatore admits somberly after a few moments of silence.

Donna hums in understanding, remaining silent as she continues to gather up her supplies. After a few more moments of searching, the younger woman finally sits at the large sewing table, turning to Salvatore as she picks up a thick and luxurious looking silk material, dyed the color of bright red blood, a small smile on her face. “Well, if you’re planning on winning your gift’s affections through the use of gifts, then we’d better make sure we make her a gift worth falling in love over, yes?”

Salvatore gasps in excitement as he realizes what Donna’s words really mean. She’ll help him make a dress that he can gift to Nadine!

“O-oh thank you… th-thank you, thank y-you, thank you thank you thank you!” Salvatore praises, grabbing Donna’s hand and shaking it excitedly between them.

Donna chuckles in amused fondness. “But of course! Anything for an older brother as reliable and helpful as you! Now, the actual construction of this dress will, unfortunately, take some time, if you are looking for something fancy and luxurious, that is. There’s also the issue of measurements, as the dress will need to be custom fit to your gift’s unique frame if you want it to look the way it's supposed to. However, if you’re in a rush and would like something to give her today, I could throw something suitable together for just the time being. It won’t be the final version of course, but she'll at least have something to wear while I work on the real dress in secret. Does that sound like an agreeable plan, Tores?” Donna asks, folding her hands in front of her, making her look very professional and serious.

Salvatore nods his head. “Yes, th-that’ll be j-just fine! I’ll l-leave the d-design of the d-dress… u-up to you, D-Donna… I t-trust your e-expertise… h-however if y-you do h-have… something… th-that I could g-give Nadine t-today… then th-that would be a-amazing… as well…”

“Nadine” Donna repeats slowly, smiling again. “What a pretty name that is? Which one is she?”

“Th-the blue one… w-with white… f-freckles… an-and fins.”

“Ah yes, I remember now. Mother Miranda spoke quite poorly of that particular subject. Said she was an absolute menace, if I recall. What do you think of her?” The black clad woman asks, curiously.

Salvatore shrugs his shoulders. “I-I’ve not m-met her officially… yet… I g-got nervous an-and hid… under some c-crates… when she f-first woke up… b-but she seems… surprisingly… m-mild mannered and calm… as f-far as I c-can… as far as I can t-tell.”

“I see” Donna says, “well that sounds interesting. Though… why were you hiding under crates, again?”

“... I-I don’t w-want to talk about i-it” Salvatore mutters softly, the embarrassed heat returning when Donna chuckles at his behavior.

“Oh, don’t worry, Tores, you know I’d never judge you about something like this. Were you afraid she’d hate you when she saw you? Is that why you hid?”

Oh, Donna, sweet, kind, wonderful, omnipotently all-knowing Donna. How Salvatore hated her ability to read him like yesterday’s newspaper.

“M… maybe…” Salvatore hesitantly admits, before a thought crossed his mind.

“W-were… were you… w-wearing your veil… f-for the same r-reason… Donna?” Salvatore asks, realization causing his eyes to grow wide as he looked up at the younger woman, a soft chuckle escaping her in response.

“I suppose you could say that” Donna breathes. “I know my… mutation, isn’t nearly as bad or even life altering as yours were, but… I simply can’t handle the looks of pity, disgust, and fear that the villagers leveled me with whenever I dared leave my home. Not like you can at least.”

“I-I don’t know… i-if I’d call what I-I do… ‘handling’... I-I try to hide m-myself away… j-just as much as y-you do, Donna” Salvatore interjects, taking a step forward and reaching out to take the younger woman’s hand in his own, a comforting gesture is what Salvatore hopes it comes across as.

“I suppose… but at least you feel a sense of comfort and confidence whenever you’ve lured someone into your reservoir. You have the home advantage and are capable of utilizing and manipulating your surroundings to best fit your needs. Whenever someone enters my home however… well, let's just say the comfort of a home field advantage isn’t enough to soothe my mind of the constant worries and anxieties that come with having a total stranger in my home.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. Salvatore was more than aware of Donna’s uneasy and traumatic upbringing, as well as how much more damage her cadou mutation did to her as well, both physically and mentally. Unlike Karl however, Donna at least had the distinct advantage of being an adult when her mutations took place, but this didn’t really end up doing very much for her in the end, only shoving the already reclusive young woman even further into her grief stricken shell.

It had taken Salvatore no shortage of effort and time to slowly but surely work his way past the hard exterior of Donna’s shell, slowly convincing her to open up until she was comfortable enough around him to both hold a conversation for longer than 5 minutes, as well as take her veil off in his presence, a gesture that Salvatore honored by removing the hood of his cloak as well. Since warming up to him however, Donna has proved to be a valuable, if difficult to get a hold of, figure in Salvatore’s life, and the deformed man was proud to call such a talented and pleasant young woman his younger sister. Even Donna herself would admit to greatly enjoying the times when the deformed man would go out of his way to pay her a visit, if only to sob about the latest romance film he’d watched while she worked on her personal projects.

In the years that they’ve had to get to know each other, Salvatore is proud to say that he’s managed to learn quite a few more personal things about Donna, and one of those things happens to be the fact that Donna hates nothing more in this entire world than random strangers in her house.

“I-Is this… about h-him?” Salvatore asks, knowing Donna knew exactly who he was talking about, despite having turned her head away so the unhooded man couldn’t read her expression.

A gentle squeeze of the hand has Donna talking. “I just… don’t know what to do with him. Mother Miranda gave us these gifts but didn’t tell us what we were supposed to use them for, other than “whatever we want”. But what if I never wanted a gift in the first place? What if I don’t want to have to tiptoe around my own damn home just so that some poor sap doesn’t have the daylights scared out of him the second he sees me?” Donna laments, sighing heavily in frustration and fear. “From what I’ve hear, your gift sounds like an absolute madwoman, so at least you’ll have something interesting to look at even if she rejects you. All mine had done all day is sleep and look like he left his brain behind in the pod. What on earth am I supposed to do with a brain dead body? I might as well give him to Heisenberg as an early birthday present.”

“W-well… I don’t k-know if I have a-any better of a “ch-chance” with my g-gift as a-anyone else… b-but I do th-think that… if you w-want to have a g-good relationship… o-of some k-kind… with y-your gift… then… m-maybe you need… to be th-the one to r-reach out… reach out an-and try and start it… y-yourself… sh-show him th-that you mean… n-no harm… and that you j-just want companionship and a-acceptance… an-and maybe… maybe if h-he wants… the s-same thing… you can… you can m-make something… out of th-that… m-make things w-work out best f-for the both of y-you… i-in whatever w-way works b-best… for the b-both of you… not a-anyone else” Salvatore suggests, feeling like he’s talking entirely out of his ass at the moment, but hoping that Donna, as smart as she was, would be able to get at least something out of his meaningless rambling.

“Hmmm… make things work for us in whatever way works out best for us, huh?” The younger woman asks, though seemingly more to herself than anyone else. “You know what… I think I might just give that a try. Thank you, Tores, you’re always such a wealth of knowledge and wisdom!”

“W-well… I c-certainly do my b-best” Salvatore blushes, rubbing the side of his neck happily as Donna giggles and turns her attention back to the fabrics.

“Alright, well, with that emotional conundrum handled, why don’t we finish our conversation about the dress you’d like to eventually give to your gift. I have a few pieces already made lying around that I'm sure will fit her, I’ll just need to shorten them a tad bit, so I'm not as concerned about what you’ll be giving her today as I am about getting an idea of what you’re looking for in the dress you plan on giving to her in the future” Donna says, breaking back into her serious business mode.

With a nod of his head, Salvatore begins describing to Donna the vision he has in his head, both for the dress as well as how it will fit on Nadine’s uniquely structured body.

“Hmmm, that definitely does sound like a challenge” Donna admits once Salvatore has concluded his explanation, “however, I don’t think it will be so difficult that I won’t be able to do it within the next few weeks.”

“S-so, you’ll d-do it?” Salvatore asks, hopefully.

“Yes, I’ve already said that I’d be more than willing to aid you in whatever you needed, but the fact that you’ve come to me with a problem I can solve with my needle and threat just makes me excited to start working. I hope its to your liking once its finally finished!”

“Oh, t-trust me, Donna... I k-know both N-Nadine and I… will be v-very pleased… with th-this dress… once i-its finally f-finished,” Salvatore assures as Donna leads him out the front door of the Beneviento estate, their conversation having concluded and Salvatore still in need of something to go along with the gorgeously pristine white satin nightgown that Donna had given him to gift Nadine until her real dress was ready.

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Donna says kindly. “I’ll do my very best on it, you can rest assured about that, at least. Anyways, I won’t keep you much longer, since you still have quite the night ahead of you it seems. At least, if you’re planning on heading up to see her too, you will.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Salvatore nods his head solemnly. “Y-yes… I am s-still planning on g-going up to see… Alcina… just to see i-if she has… anything else… I c-could possibly g-give Nadine.”

“Whatever it is, you’ll have to pry it from her like an old rotting tooth, I imagine” Donna comments quietly.

“I-Im afraid you m-might be… b-be right about th-that one” Salvatore laments, though the thought of surprising Nadine with an even more incredible gift than just the satin nightgown filled him with a sudden inexplicable feeling of determination, as though nothing in the world could stop him so long as he had his beautiful Nadine to return to.

“B-but anyways… I w-wont take up… any more of y-your time… th-thank you, Donna… you h-have no idea… how m-much this means to m-me” Salvatore thanks as he begins heading back down the hill.

“You’re welcome, Tores. And who knows, perhaps one day… if things with both our gifts turn out well… we could all get together and share a meal… all of us together?” The black clad woman asks, her hope and apprehension for what the future may hold plain as day in her voice.

Salvatore merely smiles as the younger woman. “I w-would enjoy that g-greatly, Donna… an-and Nadine would a-as well, I think… let’s t-try and… and set s-something up… for after w-we’ve all been g-given some time… to a-adjust to our n-new living s-situations?”

“I think that sounds wonderful, Tores. Have a safe journey, and do let me know if Alcina could please return my large mannequin. Those things are a pain to make myself and yet she never remembers to send them back after she commissions a new dress.”

“Don’t w-worry, Donna” Salvatore chuckles as he hobbles away, beginning to make the rest of the journey toward Castle Dimitrescu along the still-snowy village paths, “I’ll be s-sure to let her k-know!”

“BYE, SALLY! SEE YOU NEXT TIME!” Angie all but screeches as she flies past Donna and crashes into something inside. Salvatore chuckles when he hears the audible sigh from Donna, knowing that she’s about to have her hands more than full, even without her gift factored into the equation.

Oh well... at least it would make for a funny story to hear about later!

So long as Donna survived the whole ordeal, that is.