#(dark red is the closest i could get to the brown hair i gave him)

[misiahasahardname]

school is my number 1 top priority

[ninchen1909]

The wrong groom

Pairing: Ivar the boneless x female reader

Word count: ~ 2.500

Hey,

this is the first time I write for a Vikings character. Also English isn‘t my first language, so I apologize in advance for possible mistakes.

I hope you have a great day!

Warnings: mention of killing disabled children, mention of alcohol, kind of arranged marriage but also not

"How can you ask this of me father?" you turn to him angrily, your dress swinging elegantly around your body. All of your father's advisors look at the floor, not daring to say a word. Even the priest, who always follows your father like a faithful, obedient dog, stands before you with his head bowed.

"How can you ask me to marry one of these barbarians, they stand for all that we despise. How in God's holy name can you ask me to marry one of these sinners?"

Your face is flushed red with rage, your hands clenched into tight fists. You have always been different from all the other princesses you have known. You never let anyone tell you to shut up and you always stood up for your convictions. At some point your parents realized that they could never chastise you and made a deal with you to control your temper at least in front of visitors and other nobles.

"You must do it my beloved daughter, for our kingdom, for our freedom and for our people."

Tears well up in your eyes, whether from anger or sadness you can't quite tell yourself. A few days ago, you were simply the princess of one of the smaller kingdoms in England, never attracting the interest of the Northmen until they suddenly and without warning attacked your city. Half of your army have already been killed and it is almost certain that your city could not withstand another attack.

"But why me father, why not Sophie, you've wanted to marry her off for a long time, she's older and wiser than me." Your tone has by now lost its sharpness, desperation winning out over fear.

"Sophie does not have your strength, my child, she would perish in their world, but you can become stronger in it." The look in your father's eyes becomes softer, you even think you can recognize pity in it.

"Do I even have a chance of getting out of this unmarried?" your father shakes his head, a defeated sigh escaping your throat.

"They are already on their way to us, King Ragnar with his sons and some retainers, we will discuss the details at a feast today."

"May I at least know the name of my intended?" you cross your arms stubbornly in front of your chest, a behavior for which other princesses would have experienced great suffering, but your father has to suppress a smirk.

"Prince Sigurd"

A few hours later, the feast is in full swing, together with your sister, your father, and his closest confidants, you sit on a raised table in the back of the Great Hall.

Your appetite has left after a closer observation of the Nordic table manners. Disgusted, your mouth tightens as you see them talking with their mouths full and not seeming to understand the meaning of cutlery at all. The wine flows in streams and soon you realize that they seem to be able to hold more alcohol than the men in your town.

All evening you feel the eyes of one of Ragnar's sons on you, you know from the description your father gave you of your future husband that it is not Sigurd. Crutches are leaning against the wooden bench next to him and his attentive, alert eyes follow your every move. His dark brown hair, like the hair of the other Northmen is worked into beautiful braided hairstyles. Your father seems to be able to interpret your gaze clearly, as unobtrusively as possible, he leans in your direction and whispers to you:

"This is Ivar, he is the youngest son of Ragnar and according to stories also by far the most bloodthirsty and brutal among the brothers. So stay away from him."

A silent nod is your answer, but to your own dismay, your father's words don't repulse you, but rather make the interest in  Ivar grow in you. During the whole time, his ice-blue eyes are constantly directed at you, even when you look directly at him, he does not avert his gaze from you, but gives you an arrogant smile, much to your astonishment.

Throughout the evening, your eyes meet again and again, and each time anew goose bumps cover your body, the dangerous aura that surrounds him captivates you, and as if automatically, your hand finds its way to the cross that hangs around your neck, you clasp it tightly with your fist.

The festivity goes on like all the previous ones. Everyone gets drunk and all the noble, God-fearing men, as time passes and alcohol consumption increases, look for a young woman for the night, who in no way resembles their spouse.

With your father's consent, you get up from the table as inconspicuously as you can and leave the hall almost in a hurry. You hold up the skirt of your dress to get ahead faster and so you walk quickly straight towards the stables.

Your entrance is accompanied by the excited neighing and nervous scraping of hooves as you make your way as quietly as possible to the last stall. In it stands your most faithful friend in the kingdom, the only one you don't have to worry about betraying you. Carefully you push the latch aside and enter the box with slow steps. Dark, loyal eyes beam at you as you lovingly bury the flat of your hand on the snow-white fur.

"Greetings, my old friend," you carefully lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, the smell of fresh hay rising to your nostrils, and for the first time this evening, you seem to be able to breathe properly. You tenderly stroke your horse's nostrils as you hear a steady clacking sound in the front of the stable. With a jerk, you turn around, prepared to spot the potential danger and fight back if necessary.

However, you would never have expected to meet the person who is now standing in front of you. You watch as he moves slowly but smoothly toward one of the hay bales and drops onto it, his crutches leaning next to him within reach.  Now he looks at you through his thick lashes. The sky-blue of his eyes makes you shiver pleasantly and for a brief moment you think your legs would give out their service and make you fall uncomfortably to the ground. Quickly you try to hide this.

"What are you doing here my prince, shouldn't you be out in the hall getting drunk with the other men and lusting after the women?"

You yourself are taken aback by your direct words, but you don't let this show. Unlike expected, your words do not make him angry, but rather seem to amuse him. For a short time later, a raucous, throaty laugh fills the stables.

"You're different little raven, aren't you? Most of the other princesses I know are obedient and well-behaved, but you carry the fire of Freya in you." An arrogant but also admiring smile spreads on Ivar's face.

"You are also different from most people I know, because most people I know have two functioning legs and can actually walk of their own free will."

no sooner have you said these words than you regret them. You never wanted to be someone who limited others only to physical attributes. His smile begins to stiffen and the playful spark has also disappeared from his eyes.

"I guess you're right about that little raven" you notice him reach for his crutch and tense his upper body to hoist himself up. You hurry to place a hand on his forearm, an apologetic expression coming to your face.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just you they don't get many people like you, most of you are..." you dare not finish the sentence, which Ivar takes from you though.

".... Killed or left for dead. I know."

Under your hand you notice how his muscles relax again and Ivar seems to loosen up again. An uncomfortable silence spreads over you, only the scraping of hooves and the flaring of nostrils can be heard around you.

"You said before that I had the fire of Freya in me."

With a nod, Ivar indicates for you to continue talking.

"Who is Freya?"

a slight smile spreads across his face after your question and he leans a little further towards you.

"One of our goddesses, especially in times of war we think of her and make sacrifices to be in her favor."

"So you're comparing me to a goddess who brings death and disaster to people?"

you raise an eyebrow.

"Believe me that is an honor, she is one of our Most Favored Gods, but if it soothes your Christian heart, she is also the Goddess of Marriage and Love."

Slightly you nod to yourself as you soak up this knowledge.

"You said Freya is one of your gods, who else do you make sacrifices for?"

Ivar looks into your face trying to find some form of dishonesty there, however the only thing Ivar can discern there is genuine curiosity.

Eagerly, you listen to his soothing voice as he tells you about the father of the gods, Odin, Thor, Loki, and all the others gods.

After the feast, King Ragnar has decided to stay with his whole troupe until your and Sigurd's wedding, so that you can then sail back with them to their homeland and a new life.

Against all expectations, you spend most of your time with Ivar instead of your future husband. You realize that none of the stories do justice to Ivar's character, at least not when he is with you. Of course, you recognize his gruff, sometimes even sadistic manner when he is with other people. With you, however, he is tender and attentive, always giving you his complete attention and patiently explaining everything you want to know. He tells you stories of his adventures and of what awaits you in your new home.

With each passing day you notice how your feelings for Ivar increase and your interest in Sigurd decreases until it finally ceases to exist, each day your heart yearns more for the man with the crippled legs. Never does he treat you as if you were beneath him. Every day he tells you stories about his travels, his homeland and his gods and to your own amazement he listens attentively to your stories about your god. After only a few days you realize that his mere presence makes you happy, every day you wake up in anticipation of spending your day with him. And he seems to feel the same way. In all this time Sigurd never once seeks your company, nor does he make any effort to get to know you better. Ivar even more so.

Three days before the wedding you can't take it anymore, you have to stand by your feelings or you will be unhappy for the rest of your life.

With quick steps you make your way to the throne room with one hand grasping the skirt of your dress so as not to trip without knocking you push open the heavy wooden door and look into the astonished faces of your father and King Ragnar.

"Daughter, how dare you..."

"Father, please forgive the intrusion, however, I need to talk to you about something that has been depriving me of sleep for several nights now."

At your words, your father's features soften and his voice loses some of its original sharpness.

"Speak then, my daughter."

"I don't want to marry Sigurd, I don't think we're right for each other either..."

Your father interrupts you, before you can finish your sentence.

“You are going to marry one of King Ragnars sons, that’s not something I’m going to debate with you, daughter.”

“Yes father I know and I’m going to marry one of his sons, just not Sigurd..”

Your father sinks back into his chair, your eyes briefly fall on the King of the Northmen, his bright blue eyes patterning you with interest.

"Why don't you want to marry my son Sigurd, he's a good man".

The Northman squints his eyes slightly, eagerly waiting for your answer.

"I do not question that he is a good man, however I have the impression that we would not be good for each other."

"And why do you think that?"

Ragnar rises from his chair and walks toward you with slow steps, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. Nervousness rises in you, but you try to suppress it with all your might.

"And I want to hear the real reason."

"With all due respect King Ragnar, I am not under the impression that Prince Sigurd is interested in finding a wife and starting a family. Besides, I don't think I have the physical attributes your son desires in a partner."

A smile creeps onto his lips, while your father is shocked and enraged by your bluntness.

“Daughter, how dare you to speak to King Rag..”

“Fair enough…”

The Northman interrupts your father without sparing him so much as a glance.

…..which one of my sons do you want to marry princess (y/n)?“

“Prince Ivar, my king”

The shocked gasp of you father fills the thronroom and even king Ragnar seems surprised by your demand.

“I noticed on our first day here, that you weren’t really found of him, so what changed?”

“That’s true, at first I was scared of him, I heard many stories about how brutal and violent he can be and to be honest I don’t doubt that for a second. But as I spend time with him, he showed me, what I believe is the real him. He is soft and caring with me, he lifts up my spirit every time I see him. And he never gave me the feeling like I was inferior to him because of my gender. He is smart and a excellent strategiest, I wasn’t lucky enough to see him fight so far. But from what I heard, he is a outstanding warrior too.  And I would be honored to become his wife.”

After your speech you lower your head slightly, not daring to look at your father, a short but intense silence falls over the three of you. It feels like an eternity, until you hear King Ragnars loud an clear voice.

“Then so be it.”

[fanficfanatic000]

Small town freak

Scar eddie munson x fem reader in small town

TW 18+ read if you dare

You always lived in this small town your whole life you were always quiet it's not that you hated talking it's just that alot of people in your town weren't interesting. No one liked rock music or dark clothing or horror movies just you the odd fucker out And the men weren't really fun or hot they were nice but they were more focused on work and moving away. Yep small town Everly but little did you know a certain man was gonna walk in your life.You get dressed in your red tank top and black ripped jeans and you quickly put your combat boots and eyeliner on you were craving those spicy chips you love and your favorite drink. You run out the door and you walk to the closest convenience store and minutes passed and you finally arrived you open the door and the bell rings on the door. You rush towards the chips and you grabbed 2 bags one for niw and one for later and you made your way to the drinksYou open the freezer door and you look for your drink until you see it on the bottom shelf. You sighed and bent down when you got bumped into. Pushed on the ground "S-Sorry are you okay? " You look towards the mysterious deep voice to see the dark brown earthy kind eyes. A scar on his left cheek. Messy longer hair and a silver ring cladded hand extended to you. "Hey are you okay?" he said softly. You took his hand and stood up. "Uh yeah im okay..." you look him up and down noticing the dark color pants and a black t shirt under his black leather jacket with the creative Jean vest over it. And you see him look you up and down then his eyes met yours. He visibly gulped pink blush creeping across his cheeks "uh sorry. Can i ask you a question?"You nodded yes "sure." "Um have you played dnd?" You were caught off guard by the question. "Um no i havent well ive wanted to i just never really had anyone who played it.." you rambled. He smiles "well your in luck sweetheart beeeecauseee i have started a club for dnd just show up this friday" he hands you a little hand made card: everly hellfire club starts on Friday"Ive handed like 4 out so it should be enough people " he rocked back and forth. Toe to hill "ill be there... im y/n"He smiles wider "im eddie. I uh i just moved here" he stares at you "well eddie i'll see you friday" "see you frida-y" his voice cracked. .After that interaction you couldn't stop thinking about that boy eddie the way he stood the way he talked and he played dndLike a fucking dream of yours you couldn't wait for friday which was the day after tomorrow and tomorrow you had work at The movies cause you had to pay the rent of your apt room young adult life rip.At your work you had to wear a bright orange red t shirt and black pants. Not bad but not the best on you. passing movie tickets to people all day wasn't bad but it was a small town and most the people were teenagers or the young adult ass wholes who never grew up fully over flowing the cups and spilling everywhere play wrestling eachother when you overheardThem making fun of someone who sounds Pretty familiar "yeah have you seen that freak walking around he gave me a card for nerd club and have you seen his scars he probably cut them himself by the looks of him".... you wanted to kill them just for saying anything about him bad. But you couldn't or you'd be fired. You were on your last strike already from going off on a asshole named Chad. So you ignored it.FridayyyyyyyYES YOU ARE SO FUCKING EXCITED You did everything to look your best slightly messing your hair up eyeliner. Slightly ripped black jeans shorts. Black boots with tiny silver chains and a off shoulder t shirt of your favorite band You were ready and slightly late FUCKKKKKYou rush out the door and drove as fast as you could without officer John seeing.You parked in the almost empty parking lot wondering if you're actually early or late You close the car door and you take a deep breath and walked into the rental lot. You opened the door

part 2 out now follow for more em storytelling

[elliemarchetti]

Obsession (Part 2)

@jilymicrofics’s prompt #28. Hope I nailed it.

Part 1

Prompt: Nostalgic

Words: 690

After yet another day spent groping in the dark, James threw himself on the creaking bed of the small hotel room he had rented. He hadn't been too sophisticated with his temporary accommodation, and for some reason he liked the idea of ​​the place having a single window looking out onto a dark grey concrete wall.

Technically, he could’ve gone home. His colleagues had found nothing to indicate where the bastard might have taken his wife, and even James himself had ascertained that there was nothing out of place. The murderer, and now also kidnapper, hadn’t touched anything. The table was set exactly as if Lily were to emerge from the kitchen at any moment with a roast pan in hand, her brown suede jacket was hanging on the coat rack in the hall, and her favourite ankle boots, the ones she had recently worn to every event they attended, were right beside her fuzzy slippers. Everything was normal but she was too painfully absent for James to be able to stay in that house without going crazy, so he paid in advance for a week at the closest place to the police station he could find.

He shouldn't have worked on the case. He was too involved, and even his partner feared that he might risk his own life to get back the woman he loved, but since their superior hadn't objected when he saw him enter the office less than twenty-four hours after the fateful call, who was Sirius to speak?

With a loud sigh, James pulled his wallet out of the coat’s inner pocket, searching for the small wedding photo he always carried with him. In the image now slightly creased at the corners, Lily was laughing happily as he made her twirl, her red hair half hidden by the voluminous veil she had chosen, the transparent sleeves of the dress highlighting her slender arms. She had always been tiny, more than a few inches shorter than him, and weighed so little compared to a man... He had to forcibly stop his mind from taking this dangerous path, one that led his imagination to what that psychopath could’ve done to her, or could be doing right at that moment.

He had to stay calm, to rein his emotions, otherwise he would’ve worked to the point of exhaustion, until his eyes asked for mercy and closed spontaneously. He felt guilty, and he felt fooled, but he knew it was of little use, that he had to keep his mind clear to earn a chance to hug Lily again.

Even before they got married, even before he started the academy and probably even when they were just kids, she had always been his anchor, a safe haven in the storm; the fact she now was the victim, the centre of his work and not the one who lightened his days and made him smile, made him forget for a moment the horrors he witnessed, added a layer of sadism to the whole ordeal.

“This is what he wants,” Sirius had told him when he found his best friend with his head in his hands, staring at an unspecified point on a folder full of papers whose meaning he could barely understand. “If you panic, he wins.”

But James wasn't panicking. He was just homesick, obviously not for a building but for the sense of peace that space shared with his wife and only her gave him. He missed walking through the door and smelling dinner, or seeing her curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace reading one of her terrible romance novels. He missed her closeness, her laugh, and how her eyes became bright when she recalled the good old days at school. He was longing for something that would never return, because even if he found her, even if by some miracle she was unharmed, such a trauma would change her, and nothing would ever be the same again.

“I miss you,” he murmured to the smiling face in the photo he still held in his hands, praying that, somehow, she could feel him close.

[thecentrium]

What are the Elliott from Earth characters’ eye colors? An investigation

Another wordy investigation into minor character details, it’s the spiritual sequel to my height estimates post…

The default eye color for most EFE character renders is the same: a dark reddish purple pseudo-black (or sometimes just actual black), used generally for the lineart of features on nearly every character design. But beyond that stylization, what eye colors do they have, and where can we find a hint of it?

The best/most direct approach here is just to find and base it on some official visual source where the characters ARE shown with actual, distinctive eye colors in some way or another. And since there’s nothing that does that in the show itself, probably concept or production art.

Indeed, the only available visual that wasn't just the same usual render images using either black or that dark red-purple color, and that gave them unique individual eye colors at all, turned out to be this production art gif, a run cycle animation test with the early designs:

The eye colors there are based on unique outline colors for each character—and although it’s still a situation of matching eye and outline colors, I think these can be considered legit and not just like the stylized black pupils in the regular character renders, since

1. in this animation the eye color is something unique and different for each character rather than the same for everyone, and both eye color and lineart color are features that are often chosen to reflect or match the rest of a design (like they do there) so those features could easily go hand-in-hand and overlap like that anyway

and 2. in this case there’s actual colors for the eyes being indicated at all rather than it just being black or a purplish substitute for black, so it’s the most direct thing we’ve got for an eye color reference

So there’s a deep green for Mo (technically his earlier version Martin there, but design-wise they're similar and have the same colors), and a warm brown for Elliott. BUT, there’s one more thing. That’s not the color palette Elliott has now, so it's questionable if this should even apply to him for his eye color still!

But we can still use this—if we just adjust what we've already got here to match his current design.

The warm brown and deep green lineart/eye colors in the designs above seem to have come from the overall color palettes of the characters, since like I mentioned both those features are ones based on the rest of the design here. There’s a green used for the mostly-green Martin, and warm reddish brown used for the warm reds and yellows that define Elliott’s palette there.

So if a warm-colors palette gets a warm brown outline color, a palette with its main colors split between warm (e.g. red-orange hair) and cool (e.g. blue clothes) gets a more intermediate hue. Orange and blue in particular can even mix to make a warm (brown) or a cool (green) color…

So an intermediate outline/palette color like that is probably best matched by or interpreted as an intermediate human eye color, like hazel, a mix of warm (brown) and cool (green and gray) colors! Like these:

(Plus, a warm hazel like that is visually rather close to brown and kinda has the same overall feel to it, so even then this color is still akin to the original brown eye color we got from the gif earlier and it isn’t too drastic an “adjustment” from it)

So, with that development art as our closest official indicator of eye colors: Mo has deep green (fitting for a reptile?), Elliott has warm hazel, what about Frankie?

Although it took a few extra steps to bring things up-to-date and find our conclusion for Elliott, with him there was still some sort of source material to start from. But Frankie isn’t in that development art gif, and while maybe we could do that “based on palette colors” method again, that was really only done to follow the pattern of the designs from the gif for the characters there in it and slightly adjust it to the new palette; and besides, repeating that method for more characters might not keep working as fittingly anyway.

But that’s all really besides the point. There’s a simpler way for Frankie. Assuming she and Elliott are genetically related (which is material for a whole other post, but long story short I have my reasons and evidence to think that they are), we can just extrapolate from Elliott for her!

If Elliott has hazel eyes, it’s likely he got them from Frankie, especially considering Frankie’s warm/reddish but darker natural hair color—see below—that makes a hazel or even light brown eye color fitting for her. So it’s likely she’s also got a warm hazel, maybe even more of a light brown (the lines are kinda blurred with defining eye colors anyway).

The end! A bit of a long read for what should have been a simple question, but if you made it down here I hope you enjoyed it, I love making pointless investigation posts like this they’re so fun

[inneedofalobotomy]

Zane Morgue

Author's Note: Hey, Tumblr! This is the backstory for my Creepypasta OC, Zane Morgan. I recently thought of making him after re-joining the Creepypasta fandom. You guys may see more of him on my account! At the time of writing this, I'm planning to include characters that don't belong to me, such as Toby, Slenderman, and probably Masky and Hoodie. So credits go to Kastoway/GrisGrisDoll, Eric Knudsen/Victor Surge, and Marble Hornets. You might notice that there's only one chapter, that's because I'm planning to split this up into multiple parts and take criticism from this one and make sure the next chapter is better. I'm sorry if I mischaracterize any of them, or if there is something wrong with my story, feel free to let me know in the comments and I will probably update this chapter later on to correct my mistakes. That's all! Enjoy the story.

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Chapter One

July 6th, 2010. 9:57 P.M.

Running, that’s what Zane has been doing for the past 30 minutes. Running and running with no set destination in mind. The zipper from his backpack made a small 'cling' noise as the bag shook with each step. The bloodied weapon in his hand dripped with red with every movement. The man looked a bit thinner, he was kind of pale and had messy dark brown hair with his fringe to the side. He finally came to a halt and fell on the ground, panting. As he took deep breaths in, he processed everything going on.

About 51 minutes ago, Zane Morgan and his dad had one of their usual fights. His father had been getting more violent with each fight recently. The older man pushed Zane into a shelf, knocking over a product using some sort of acid that burnt the side of his face on contact, causing him to cry out in pain. He can't remember what product it was because the scene played out so fast. He, out of anger and self defense, picked up the closest thing to him that could hurt someone.

And then, about 48 minutes ago, he had murdered his father with a hatchet in the garage, beheading him, his head flew off like his neck ejected it. After realizing what he'd done, looking down at the severed head on the ground, Zane ran up to his room, packing whatever he could find in his backpack, his toothbrush, toothpaste, money, food, drinks, whatever he thought he'd need. His iPod and headphones were already in his bag so he didn't have to waste time looking for those. He didn't even drop the weapon because it'd give the cops more proof that he did it and would start looking for him.

As he processed this, he began to grow shaky. He didn't cry though, no, that would lead someone right to him. Plus, he didn't feel like he needed to, strange. He let out a sigh and looked around, taking in his surroundings. Trees, trees, trees, all he could see was fucking trees. Skinny ones, big ones, tall ones, short ones, trees. He picked himself up and walked around, trying to find himself a place to sleep. As he walked around, he noticed papers that were plastered around the area, all of them had the same violent-looking handwriting. He didn't mess with them. The pages weren't his priority. Finding somewhere to sleep was his priority.

Zane went off the trails and started walking, he wanted to go so far that it'd be hard for police or anyone to find him. He walked for about 7 minutes before stopping and finding a place to sleep. Zane sat down on the grass and laid his head down on his backpack. He put the hatchet in his backpack with the blade sticking out so it didn't get blood on anything. He'd start walking again when he woke up. As his eyes closed and he gave into sleep, he thought he saw a pair of long black legs in front of him, though it could just be his imagination.

July 7th, 2010. 8:04 A.M.

Zane woke up and grumbled. So it wasn't just a bad dream like he'd been hoping. This was real. He killed his dad and there's no chance of him going back home. He touched the side of his face and it stung. He didn't know what to expect, he was still kind of hoping it was all fake. He picked up his bag and brushed off his pants before continuing his walk to wherever. No country, state or city allowed murder, so there's nowhere he can go.

He sat on a bench and opened his backpack, he rummaged through the bag, trying to find the drinks he packed. Zane finally found them and pulled one out. An energy drink. His favorite kind of drink. It wasn't the smartest decision of him to bring cans of Red Bull but he was just grabbing whatever he could find at the time. He cracked it open and took a sip of it. He finished the drink before crushing the can and dropping it. He had no time to waste. The police or someone probably have found his dad's body and head and were now on the hunt for Zane. He picked himself up and continued his walk.

10:42 P.M.

"Jesus, how long have I been walking?" Zane thought to himself as he sat down on the grass. He was far from his old home now and didn't know where he was. He was probably in some other city's park now. The thought of that was confirmed when he stumbled upon a pavilion. He sat at one of the picnic tables inside it and put his head down. He needed to rest, he was tired and his legs were aching.

He pulled out the iPod he got for his 14th birthday in '06. Man, what a time that was. His first birthday without his overbearing and in-obvious-need-of-help mom. The wealthier side of his family gave him somewhat expensive gifts out of pity for him because he no longer had a mother. That wasn't the only thing though, it was the first birthday he's had without her locking herself in her room and sobbing for a while. He never figured out why his mom did that. It was just something that happened whenever his birthday arrived. Maybe she was disappointed in him? No, that can't be, he's worked too hard in everything for her to be disappointed in him. Maybe she was a narcissist and wanted to make his birthdays all about her. But she never really did anything that made her seem like a narcissist besides that. Maybe she felt guilty, but for what? Why would she feel guilty?

In this state of reminiscing, Zane heard a noise, one that sounded like rustling. He turned to the location of the sound and saw that it was coming from the trees behind him.

"Hello? Someone there?" he called out.

"Probably just an animal," Zane thought before turning back to the music player. As he was about to put on some whiney emo song, which he didn't get through legal means, he felt a presence behind him.

He turned around and saw a figure standing right behind him. He looked tall, well from where Zane was. It was dark so the only other thing he could notice about it's appearance was it's striped sweater. Or was it a sweater? No, it's a hoodie.

"H-Hi!" the figure behind him greeted.

"GAH! JESUS FUCK!" Zane yelped, taking a deep breath after, "you scared me, man."

The figure just looked down at him and twitched. Zane took a closer look at him. What was that thing around his mouth? Was he wearing goggles? What was he planning to do with those hatchets in his hands?

"Uh... Hi..." Zane greeted, "uh... cool hoodie..?"

"Thank you! Is that a h-hatchet in your bag? I like hatchets, I have t-two of them!"

"You seem... upbeat," Zane pointed out, standing up and grabbing his bag. The man looked a bit shorter now that he stood up. About 5 inches shorter maybe.

The man held out a gloved hand. "I-I'm Toby," he stated, twitching a bit.

"Zane," the other replied, shaking his hand. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater as it got warmer, revealing a black symbol on his right wrist. Toby looked down at the symbol, noticing it out of the corner of his eye.

"What's that on your wrist?" he asked before grabbing it and studying it closely.

"Oh here we go," the taller male thought as his hand was taken. The marking had been on him his whole life. He wanted to pass it off as a birthmark, but no birthmark looked like the symbol. And it definitely wasn't a tattoo. Nobody would tattoo a random newborn.

"No, I'm not in a gang, or a cult. That is just a mark I've had on my wrist for a while."

"G-gang? Cult? What're y-you talking about?" Toby asked.

"Oh, sorry, that's just what people ask me when they notice it."

"That symbol looks f-familiar. Oh! I have the same one! O-on my neck!" the man stated, pulling down the collar of the turtleneck he was wearing under his sweatshirt, revealing the same symbol.

"Oh.. cool. Why're you wearing a turtleneck under a sweatshirt? Don't you get hot?" Zane asked.

"No, not really. I c-can't really feel heat. Besides, you can't b-be talking. You're w-wearing a sweater in July."

"...You have a point there," he replied, taking back his arm and crossing them.

"Now, what did Slendy say w-when I find s-someone with that symbol..." Toby wondered aloud, his neck cracking.

"Oh! Right! You get to come with m-me! Slendy's waiting for you!" He said to the taller one.

"Who? Slendy?" Zane asked, confused, "I don't know a 'Slendy'."

"Slenderman! Y'know, the t-tall guy with no face and wears a b-business suit?"

"Huh... I think I know who that is... Why's he waiting for me?" He responded. He can remember a few moments from his life where he's seen a tall man in a business suit watching him, why would it want him now?

"You're one of his proxies n-now! You get to serve him and kill for him and-"

"I'm sorry, kill? Serve?" Zane interrupted. He didn't like the sound of that. Serving implied he was a slave, and that implied he was going to be ordered around, which was something he hated more than anything. The sound of killing didn't sound to exciting either. He killed his dad and seeing him dead on the ground with his head separated from his body was enough. A part of him wanted to do it again and again but he was more stable than that.

"Yeah! Slendy's our master! And we're the ones that k-kill for him. Not just us, there's M-Masky and Hoodie and Kate," Toby explained.

"Yeah, no. Sorry, man. My Lizzie Borden days are over," Zane replied.

"Why do you still h-have the hatchet then?" Toby pointed out.

"So the police don't know that it was definitely me."

"And they're not gonna question the guy with the b-b-bloodstained axe in his backpack?" he questioned, pointing out Zane's faulty logic.

"No, of course not, they're gonna let me go free," the boney one replied, sarcastically

"W-Whatever, can you just please come with me? Slender's gonna be pissed if I return e-emptyhanded."

"Sorry, Toby. Can't you just tell him that you couldn't find me?" he asked.

"No, he's g-gonna see right through that bullshit," the masked one explained.

"Damn, still though, I'm not willingly becoming some murderous slave," Zane replied.

"Well I-I'm not leaving you until you agree to come with m-me. Slendy's already pissed with me enough." Toby responded, stubbornly.

"Great."

[fateinifty]

Our story begins with a young child named Enro. He grew up in an orphanage. From the time he was born, they found him in a carriage held by his mother. A young girl the same age as him walked up to him. She had dark red hair that stood out. She had different colored eyes—her right eye was blue, and the other was brown. Everything about her, including her pale skin, was filled with bruises. She asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

He had never asked himself that question. "I don't know."

"Well, I want to be a knight of the order so I can protect people," she said.

He thought to himself, what a noble cause. "Since you don't have a dream, once we get out of this orphanage, let's become knights of the order and protect people," she continued.

Enro thought about it. "Yes, I'd like that."

The next day, Enro thought about how nice the girl was and realized he had never asked for her name. He planned to ask her that day, but she was gone. Enro looked all over for her. She had been sold by the owners of the orphanage. Enro was reminded of the sick truth: they were truly alone in this orphanage. They were nonexistent to others. They could be gone just like that, and nobody would even cry. But he cried. He knew they existed. He knew they were important, but they were invisible to the world. They had dreams and aspirations. What did they do so wrong to be kept in this prison? But now, Enro had found his purpose: to bring justice to her forgotten dream and become a knight of the order.

While he slept, he heard screams. He looked outside to see the Ignicel cultists, who had no purpose but to kill. He had to run; he had to survive. He couldn't let her dream die. The cultists were in the building. He heard the screams of children. He ran out into the hallway, seeing a cultist.

"We found one here!" the cultist shouted.

He ran and ran, the cultist chasing after him. He didn't want to die. But he couldn't run forever. He grabbed a small iron rod and hid behind a wall. When the cultist approached, he struck him in the jaw, disorienting him. He struck him once more, knocking the cultist to the ground. Enro grabbed the cultist's dagger and hid behind a cabinet on the floor, hoping nobody would find him. Tears filled his eyes as he saw children being kidnapped.

He knew his spot wasn't too safe, so he ran to the closest room and put a cabinet at the door. He was in the nursery. There was one other child there, crying and holding a baby. He heard banging at the door and looked for a way out. He ran to the child, a boy two years younger than him. He grabbed his hand and headed for the window, running as fast as he could to the woods. He couldn't die—not yet. He had to stay alive.

Holding the dagger in hand, a cultist saw them and gave chase. They kept running and running. The boy, holding the baby in one hand, couldn't keep up and fell. Enro picked him up and hid behind a tree, his breath heavy. He could hear the cultist right around the tree. He grabbed the dagger and slashed at the cultist's arm. The cultist punched Enro to the ground. The child cried and cried.

The cultist was distracted, and again Enro went in for a cut, grazing him. “You brat,” the cultist snarled, slamming Enro to the ground and holding a knife to his throat. The child threw a rock at the cultist, hoping to save Enro. Enro pushed the man off, punching him. The cultist got up and was about to kill Enro, but suddenly he was slammed to the ground. “I can't move. What is this?”

Enro grabbed the child and ran for safety. They ran far away and set up camp at the bay of a river.

“Why did you help me?” the child asked.

“I don't know,” Enro replied.

“Thank you, mister.”

“My name is Enro. What's yours?”

“My name is Ken. This baby here is Light; he's my baby brother.”

He could see the pair shivering. “Let's set up a campfire.”

“Okay,” Ken agreed.

Enro held the boy’s hand and offered to hold Light as they walked. “Do you need help with him?”

“No, it's okay,” Ken said, holding on tight to his brother. They walked around, looking for sticks and logs, and placed them near the bay. Enro could hear Ken's belly rumbling. Once they got enough logs, they now had to worry about food. They looked all around, only finding snakes. Eventually, they found a kady, a small creature that relied on the trees to stay alive. Enro used the dagger to climb up the trees and grabbed the creature from behind. They went back to the river where they lit up their campfire. They huddled together for warmth.

“Ew, this tastes nasty,” Ken complained.

“It's the only thing we have, Ken.”

“Wahhhhh,” Light cried.

“Dear, dear Light, everything's going to be okay,” Ken comforted his brother.

They had both fallen asleep. Enro put his hands over them. Maybe they could be a family; they could be the love they never experienced. The night came and went. The next morning, they kept moving. They couldn't risk the cultists catching up to them.

[espresso-lessdepresso]

i7

fluff

a/n: 1. This is purely for and with long-haired Schlatt and 2. I have made the sad discovery that I cannot pronounce 'bouquet' to save my life. Enjoy.

This was perhaps one of your best outfits. And definitely, the one which you put the most effort into. What you wore was nothing too extravagant but nothing too simple either, considering the venue that was decided. It was comfortable but not too far from stiff since you wanted to show that you did in fact try to dress up and that this day was important for you. It was lightly detailed and complimented your body just the way you wanted. It was perfect. 

Standing hand in hand in front of yourself, you waited for Schlatt at the entrance of the restaurant.

Losing one of your closest friends for the sake of romantic desires was not something you could ever imagine doing but... not telling him your true feelings made you feel like a bubble about to burst. You had mentally prepared yourself for rejection when you asked him out. You even went as far as to prepare a nonchalant reply for when he would refuse your date proposal. Although, when he fervently agreed and even went to extent of suggesting a restaurant, you felt like you were going to combust, evaporate and melt all within a single second.

20 minutes passed.

You did not prepare yourself for the alternative path for rejection. As you waited for Schlatt, a thought crept past your now brittle wall of confidence. 

Perhaps he stood you up.

You were too caught up in the idea of the date that you had... let your guard down and completely ruled out the possibility of him never showing up. Lips pressing into a thin line, you felt the cool breeze brush against your all-of-a-sudden warm cheeks. You felt defeated and utterly stupid for hoping. 

Sighing, you turned around to leave when-

Thud!

You staggered back from the sudden collision.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry...Y/n!”

You found your footing and realized that you had walked into the very person you thought you would not be seeing today.

“Schlatt?” 

As you stepped back, you couldn't help but take in his appearance.

Schlatt sported a dark green button-down shirt on top of a plain white t-shirt. The buttons were opened from the front and his sleeves were carefully rolled up to his elbows. Along with his beige trousers and matching green sneakers, his long hair was pulled back by his usual black hairband, though a few locks threatened to slip past it.

At that moment, you felt as though your breath had been taken away by how charming and downright handsome Schlatt looked. His chest heaved up and down and you then noticed how heavily he was breathing. Droplets of sweat hung across his forehead and his reddened cheeks seemed to match yours. Maybe he was the one who ran into you and not you into him. 

God forbid if that snarky waiter caught you two looking like this, he’d think that the both of you just finished making out– The heat rose to your cheeks again and travelled down the back of your neck and up the tips of your ears.

“I’m late.” Schlatt huffed, “And I’m so sorry.” 20 minutes. You stood outside for 20 minutes waiting for him and all he had to say was– 

“These are for you.” What Schlatt held up to you pretty much into your face were not some sorry flowers that you would get bundled together by an uninterested employee at your local supermarket. Wrapped in brown and white sheer paper were a bouquet of variegated tulips. The ones where the colour in a single petal would bleed into a different colour. The ones you held were in reds, peaches and whites.

Speechless and still, you stared at the flowers. “They were supposed to arrive in the morning but...” He sheepishly gave you tight-lipped smile “They took longer than expected.” Eyes flickering between you and the tulips, he asked, “Do you like them?”

You were bitter that he made you wait so long outside as people entered and left the restaurant, passing stares at you. But you could not deny the swelling feeling inside your chest, swooning over him, his charming self and the tulips that he very much did not need to get for you. “I...Yes. I do. They're very beautiful Schlatt... Thank you.”

Schlatts eyes softened as he gazed at you, beautiful. He’d say the same for you--

“I hope the two of you are done standing outside.” You jumped at the intrusion of this soft moment by a very bored and nasally voice. The snarky waiter continued without care, “We can’t keep the tables reserved all evening. Hurry up. You love birds can chit-chat inside after ordering something.”

You turned back to Schlatt just as he turned back to look at you.

He gave you his winning smile, sweeping the back of his hand across his forehead to whip off the sweat. “We should...”

You simply nodded and without thinking, or perhaps being too occupied with the thoughts of the tulips and to what extent he went gift these to you, you grabbed his hand and walked inside together. That moment, Schlatt felt his neck and ear burn and redden, matching yours. 

++++++

I hope we all are enjoyers of long hair, yes?

Engage and let me know if/how you like the writing. Reblogging/Sharing is much appreciated.

master list

[honeyquinns]

would you do joseph x actress!fem!reader

you were ready to go premiere, you gonna support your secret boyfriend, your dress is definitely lovely. Later, Joseph get in premiere, he continue as he look at camera, he turn as you come, you definitely smile at him, he did notice you that you came. You were deeply proud of him

(hope you will write it, thanks so much and have a good day)

wait this is so cute i have ideas !!

LOVELY SECRETS

joseph quinn x actress!fem!reader

warnings // just fluff. nothing bad.

—————————————————————

you and Joseph have been dating since you first met through Jamie. you and Jamie already knew each other since around the ‘Twilight Saga’ era. he gave you the idea of auditioning for Stranger Things. he knew you’d been a fan of the show and his agent let him know there was another role open to be part of the california gang. when you got the part, everyone had met up for a table read and you sat next to Jamie. you were both new to the cast and as you looked around you noticed more new faces. first was Eduardo who you actually knew for years and then your eyes landed on Joseph. Jamie saw the way you both would steal glances from each other and decided to introduce you two. when covid hit, Joseph has just went back to the UK but you two would facetime constantly every day and practice your lines with each other and when things settled down and he was able to come back to the states and film, you two really hit it off and began dating.

it’s been about a year since you’ve wrapped filming for season 4 and 2 years since you and Joe have been together. you’ve gotten pretty serious but still nobody knows. you both decided it was best to keep it a secret for privacy reasons. you just knew with the way the media acts and how much attention Joe has gotten from new fans, all absolute hell would break loose. the only ones who knew of your relationship were your two closest friends. your best friend Melanie and of course, Jamie. tonight was the premiere of season 4 and you were quite nervous since no one knew of your relationship so you both thought it was best to drive separately and go as friends. “hey my love, you ‘bout ready?” you hear him say, turning around you eyed him up and down. he looked absolutely stunning in his dark brown suit, his rings on both hands and his curls pushed back. not to mention how the facial hair just made him look even sexier. “yes i’m ready” you walked toward him and he began to look at you the same way but even more lustful. you were wearing a long black dress that hugged your curves, your hair straight and simple, and the necklace Joe gifted you on your one year anniversary.

“you look incredibly stunning” he looks at you, lost for words with how shocked at how gorgeous you look. “you clean up pretty good, Quinn” you say smiling at him and blushing. even with a simple compliment, you were almost weak to your knees when it came to him. it was like love at first sight. he grabs your hand and twirls you around, pulling you clothes to him. “i love you, you know that” you look into each others eyes. who would’ve thought the person you’d imagine a whole life with could be this amazing? almost perfect? “i love you even more” you gives you the most passionate kiss that just makes your foot pop. you know, the one in princess diaries that Mia got to experience? that’s the one. you two were inseparable. “let’s get out of here, yeah?” you nod and head to your cars, driving to the event separately.

once you got to the premier you were greeted by your security, plenty of paparazzi and lots of fans. you waved to the fans, taking a few photos, and signing some autographs. your security and one of the workers of the event guided you to the red carpet for pictures. you posed so the paps could get all your good angles, letting a few guide you on some and waving. you continued to walk down and you turn seeing Joseph now on the carpet. he looked so beautiful and so happy, you couldn’t help but smile at him. he looked up smiling back at you, waving and you waved back. “hey Joe! get closer to y/n!” a pap had yelled. Joe walks over to you, putting a hand around you and setting it on your hip. you both posed for a few photos and parted ways for interviews. you were in the middle of an interview when you stole a couple of looks at Joseph. you were happy that he’s getting a lot more known. he had confessed to you that this is all he’s ever wanted, to be an actor and to not just have fun but to make an impact on people and to others who wanted to be actors. although you didn’t meet until the table read, you just felt like you’ve known him for many years and were genuinely and truly proud of him. “so y/n! how’s everything been for you since filming? you were huge around the time you filmed for ‘Twilight Saga: Eclipse’ and have laid low for a while doing films here and there but how does it feel to be back on the scene for a huge show like Stranger Things?” you were pulled out of your admiration from the interviewer, “you know it’s been really.. amazing to say the least. i was pretty young when i played Bree so of course, i want to finish school. coming back into the game i was really nervous because it had been so long but it’s been incredible to work with many talents like Millie and Caleb and of course the queen herself, Winona. i’m just honored to be apart of an amazing cast” you express kindly with a smile. you continued a couple more interviews and walk to where the rest of the event will be held with all of the cast and crew.

you sat down at a table with Jamie, Eduardo, Maya and Joseph. Joe’s hand was directly on top of your thigh. his thumb rubbing soothly on your skin, as he leaned to whisper in your ear, “you having a good time tonight, darling?” he asks sweetly. “yes it’s been amazing. how’s your night been, lovey?” his lips still near your ear, “it’s been quite good. although i miss you being close to me.” you pout your lip out at him. it would’ve been nice to show off for the cameras and everyone stating that you two were a couple in theory but you didn’t want to have to deal with any of the drama that the media and fans liked to come up with. they would ship Joe with Grace and make the most crazy accusations with anything regarding Joe with another woman and you just simply didn’t have the time to deal with it. Joe understood that and he was more than comfortable to keep your relationship private. it’s a lot more peace of mind for him knowing that he could keep some things in his life private but also keep you safe from any hate that could come. “you know, you two would make a really good couple” you both turned to Maya who was giving you both a suspicious look. “yeah i’ve noticed that these two are always super close-“ Eduardo chimes in “maybe you guys should you know..” he trails off. Jamie giggles at both of them “trust me loves, i’ve been playing cupid since the table read. sooner or later, these birds are going to get married.” you always loved how Jamie would go along with the secret but hint that you were together. you both laugh “i mean i keep wanting to take her out of a date” Joseph says turning to you, “maybe we should go on a date, huh y/n?” you caress his cheek playfully “you know what? i will go on a date with you Joseph.” you say factually. “hmmm i’m feeling some sarcastic, yet love energy in this room and i think you two are dating” Maya gives you both a squinty look and turns away to pay attention to the Duff bros who are now speaking about the series. you, Joe, & Jamie all look at each other and giggle about what Maya had said.

after the night was over, you head back to his place. you throw off your shoes and clothes, jumping into his guest bathroom shower while he’s in his and meet back up in his room. you go through his closet and pulling out one of his baggy t-shirt’s to put on and hop in the bed with him. “i really had fun tonight. even though we weren’t together, it felt good just to be in the same room as you” Joe says kissing your head as you’re laying on top of his chest to feel his heart beat. “me too, Joe” you slightly pull your head up to look at him “you think one day we’ll be able to just be open about our relationship?” he thinks for a second “yeah of course. eventually the fans will have to understand that i’m a grown man and i will have someone and get married and all that jazz.. plus i think the paps would absolutely love getting all the exclusive pictures of our day.” he smile into your forehead, giving it a light kiss. “hm.. i love you, you know that?” you look at him with the most loving eyes. no one has ever made you feel the way Joseph has. “and i love you y/n. i adore everything about you.” you give him another kiss and turn over to get comfortable in bed. he leans over to turn out the light, putting the volume down on the tv and wraps his arms around you. “goodnight my love” he says. “goodnight lovey” and you both fall asleep peacefully.

a/n: hi!! so i took a romantic, simpy route but i thought it was so cute with the simplicity aspect of a relationship 🥹 and now it’s almost 3am so i have to sleep haha! don’t forget to reblog 🫶🏽

[its-snicket-here]

If it's ok can I request Ainz/Momonga with a younger sibling!reader? Like maybe they're not as good at the game as him, perhaps clumsy even, but they still want to keep their brother company whenever they can?

So like, Ainz basically spoils the hell out of you. I mean THE HELL out of you. He doesn't care what you say, he's going to spoil you.

I want to say your age would round around maybe 12-14 years old to be exact on how young you are for some of that child naivety you held, so... Big scary skelly brother at your service!

To be honest, when you first begged Ainz for you to make you an account for you to join in with him, he was hesitant to do so. With all the PKing the whales/older players does, and how... 18+ it is with it's themes, he would rather have your mind be still naive for a little bit more until you understand more of the complex things.

During character creations, you were hella picky because you didn't like the idea of being designed as a monster. So thank gods above that one of the character race was a doppelgänger, because that's the closest to being a human with a sort of monster like look. Plus it also fits on your flaws on your very little game sense.

RIP your brain trying to understand all the info dump on you when the first few days happened

Your form contains a simple black winter coat, with black fur trimmings around the cuffs, neck, and the ends of the coat. Underneath the coat is a simple white dress shirt and a pair of dark red slacks to go with the outfit. A pair of dark brown boots goes along with the fit too.

Your hair, face, and body changes a lot over the corse of time because you were having trouble on deciding your final look to stay over the corse of the years. Then you settled on having your character to resemble you, despite Ainz's protest about how you're probably gonna get doxxed for that.

You spend your skills mostly on stealth related perks, because you don't like fighting a lot. Thus, Ainz and the group usually send you out in the front lines to scout.

Ainz gave you a bracelet that allows to teleport him to you when you're in grave danger though. He has trust issues with you scouting out alone by yourself. Despite you complaining that you are a big person and wanted to big person things by yourself.

10/10 big spoon Ainz in-game and in real life.

Ainz low-key admits that he feels much more happier in this draining world that the two of you suffers in. It's his main motivation of continuing to live on despite struggling and used gaming as his way to cope with life.

You'll steal his jackets he owns. Take it or leave it.

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

When the two of you were transported into the game, you were transported in your room that you spent most of the time decorating with detail while Ainz obviously was teleported to the throne room with Albedo.

When you were lost, confused, and scared. Obviously you had a panic attack, thus activating the bracelet that allowed Ainz to be summoned.

It was sure of a shock for the two of you seeing each other. Especially to you, as you didn't knew who this (assumed) very wide and tall skeleton right in front of you.

Ainz immediately hugged you in a spooning position, despite his features would deem... uncomfortable because he's mainly made out of bones. Though that doesn't matter, wait, yes it does. Damnit.

So... You have an Ainz that is stuffed to the brim with pillows and blankets. Just imagine a skeleton the endured a pillow stuffing like a thanksgiving turkey.

He'll rock you around like what he'll used to do when you became very fussy to go to sleep, had a nightmare, or during those... storms the city would have occasionally.

During the cuddle session, Ainz would try his best on explaining that it's him for real, and that the two of you are transported into the game for some unknown reason.

When you didn't believe him, he started showed you a mirror so that you could look at yourself. Bad idea, Ainz.

This ended up you crying even more, not believing that the two of you aren't transported into this world and that Ainz is playing a mean trick on you.

Incomes Yuri and Pestonya with their motherly instincts to a young supreme leader.

Ainz will do with all his power to put Shalltear and you away from each other and anyone else that is willing to flirt/do sexual advances to you. He go dad mode on you.

You are his main motivation on working to bring the two of you back at first, though later on while the stages of kingdom domination was happening it... sort of slipped from the two of you about leaving.

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

You don't fight. Period.

Hell, Ainz doesn't even allow you to fight in-game or "in game." He absolutely refuse you to even join the darkness group.

No, don't give him the puppy eyes and tears.

No

...

Fine, only if you pinky promise to get out of the fight, ok?

Like earlier mentioned, your skills focuses on stealth and scouting. So, of course again, Ainz would usually send you out to scout to at least sharpen and hone your skills.

Your only source of "weapon" is a skill called [Star Light Flash]. It's a skill that causes blindness, confusion, stuned, and burns the enemy or enemies if they fail to get out of its range. The weaker the enemy is, the longer the debuffs stays or its instant death they meet.

Demiurge is in charge of training on honing your spells or at least giving you some ideas of attacks that you can help yourself and anyone.

At first Cocytus was originally supposed to train you, but due to his... size for hands on training. You almost got yourself squashed into a red paste??? Do doppelgängers even have blood??

So, it ended up with the Lizard tribes helping you, specifically these three lizard folks: Zaryusu, Sharsuryu, and Zenberu.

Zaryusu and Sharsuryu are in charge of training you with melee weaponry, specifically spears and swords. While Zenberu is in charge of hand to hand combat.

I say Zenberu is pretty ballsy with his teasing on you, while Zaryusu and Sharsuryu are just like "Shush! You're going to get us killed you big oaf!"

Whenever Lupusregina is over at E-Rantle to check up on the village, you begged her to take her with you. Like, begged her with those child eyes of yours. Who couldn't say no to a child? Yuri and Pestonya can. Ò^Ó

Ok, now onto the clumsy part-

You're only clumsy because of your balance and low sense of perception when traveling fast.

Like, if you're balancing a pile of books or something heavy like a treasure chest for some godly reason. When running, you'll trip and fall over nothing. When walking, you trip and fall over nothing.

Hell, your fights has its clumsy moments. Such as falling off a tree on accident, falling on your enemy instead of dealing a KO, crashing into a wall while meaning to turn into a direction. Worse of all, shifting into the wrong person/animal at the wrong moment. Pandora's Actor is now in charge of teaching you how to shape shift.

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

[Sibling's Love] - Because of the connection to another player via email, phone number, or linked accounts. Whomever is the eldest or the older account will now gain a ATK buff of 160%, Speed increased by 240+ points, and mana capacity will be increased by 1,000 with a mana regeneration of 200 points a second when the younger sibling is hurt. While the younger sibling will now gain the defense increase by 200%, Speed increased by 200+ points, and health regeneration by 400 points per second. [Activated once the younger Sibling's health has reached less than half health]

[Star Light Flash] - "Remember, whenever you need help use the stars..." -- Unkown || Dealing a short spark of light from the stars with a 6ft radius, the opponent(s) would now be blinded, stunned, confused, and burned status effects. If the opponent is far weaker than the user, it could deal fatal damage or even death.

[Bridge of Faith] - A bracelet that is used to teleport a selected player to the summoner. [Can be obtained in guild shop]

[Thieving Boots] - "Hush..." -- Artrius Kelivian || Boots from an infamous thief that used to be the greatest can hide tracks and sounds when moving. Speed increased by 120% [Stealth Track and Silence Obtained]

[Brooding Coat] - "His eyes are brooding despite the cheek smile he held on his face. Blood spattered on his coat, while the necklace of the Omnipresent Stone was pocketed in. He will not stop at nothing when stealing...." || A coat that used to be stained in blood when things started to get complicated for him. A shame, he doesn't want to fight really, but one has to fight in order to live. [Invisibility obtained] (Mana Capacity/1 mana point)

[Stylish!] - Despite his job, he still needs to be presentable to the other's eyes. || An outfit that contains a plain white dress shirt with dark red slacks, the materials made that fit seems to rival a noble. Cunning and Charisma is increased by 110+ points. When in a debate battle, all choices will have a much stronger impact and will no longer be held back by specific point levels.

[Hunter's Blade] - A black blade with unknown origins. || A simple blade with very sharp ends. Does its job with infinciting a very slow yet strangely quick death to the inflicted. Very hard to heal in normal terms... [Bleeding status]

[santheinfluencer]

A Librarian’s Motive

Pairings~ Kim Namjoon x Black Reader

Genre~ Fluff & Romance

Summary ~ You go to the same bookstore every other day to enjoy the downtown scenery and even better coffee. One day your visit is more enjoyable than the rest.

Word Count~ ???

~

The summer’ heat crept into the early 90′s as kids and young adults were seen walking the streets of Seoul. Some enjoyed ice cream and others were seen with water bottles trying to beat the heat.

Luckily for you, the small yet spacious library kept you comfortable with your surprisingly second book since this morning.

“Second book already? That’s got to be a new record for you, y/n.” The red head beamed a smile at you before continuing to stock the once empty shelves with books that have been returned.

“Agreed! But to be fair, I was halfway finished with my other one. You’re actually putting it on the shelf as we speak.”

She paused as she looked in her hand to see the book you were just reading.

“Oh wow, how did I miss that?” You both giggled before you returned to your place in the book.

A couple more hours past as you can now see the sunset and the night life of Seoul starting to bloom. More restaurants opened along with clubs, bars, even indoor activities.

The bookstore would close within the next hour, so you decided to get your things together and finish up your last bit of coffee. Celeste, the beautiful red head from earlier seen you gathering your belongings and spoke up.

“Leaving soon y/n? Do you want to check out another book before we close for the weekend?” Because the library was privately owned, weekend visits were not an option.

“Not this time, I may visit a friend or actually make plans for once.” The girl smiled before going back to wiping the front desk counter.

“Your just like my grandpa back home in Scotland, such a shut-in, and would rather read with a cup of coffee.” While being here for school, Celeste would go on and on about her country if you let her. She even inspired you to visit one day.

Just before you exchanged your final goodbyes, a tall and handsome man with dark hair and square rimmed glasses made his way inside the library. He was dressed rather casually with long dark jeans and a shirt that showed how buff he was.

However, the thing about him that drew you in the most was his eyes...they were focused and cut right into you.

Delectable. That’s what he was.

“Celeste! you can head home early; I have a few things to take care of tonight.” After giving off a nod, the woman waves to you before going to the back to complete her routine.

While you were standing there gawking at the male, he turned to you and gave you a smirk and polite head nod before disappearing into the many shelves.

You quickly walked out of the establishment and going straight to your car.

To say you’re a blushing mess is an understatement. you could feel your brown cheeks turn warmer as you thought about the encounter.

“How have I not seen him before? He’s the owner...right?!” It was a bit odd in a sense. Considering you’ve been consistent with your library visits, how have you not seen that beautiful man? 

With a few deep breaths, you pulled out of your parking space and began driving the short distance drive to your apartment.

~

The weekend passed rather quickly with you having not done much; but catching up with a light workload and a small lunch date with one of your closest friends seemed to be more than enough for you.

It was now Monday, and you sat on your couch staring mindlessly at the tv as Jersey Shore played through your Hulu account.

Your calico kitten named Cinnamon took a liking to your lap as she lied sprawled out onto you.

You eyed Cinnamon before lightly moving her to the other side of the couch, in which she did not take lightly. You got ready to go where you enjoy the most.

The library.

Plus, this was a good excuse to get a new book...and see if that handsome stranger would make an appearance.

You slid on a pair of regular grey sweatpants along with a regular white crop tee and matching white converse. You were sure to touch up your hair with a bit of gel and made sure your edges were completed until you were satisfied.

The drive to the library was unlike any other time. Anxiety filled your body in slight hopes to even get a glimpse of the male...and maybe even speak to him if the anxiety didn’t get too much in the way.

This is what you needed...right? Besides, the worst he could say is no.

~.

After parking your car and making your way around the front of the building, your body felt hot, and your nerves were through the roof. 

You’ve spoken to plenty of guys and have gotten plenty of numbers, but this time felt so different. Perhaps it was because this time you were the one approaching the man? Maybe it was because you needed a little self-assurance and a confidence boost.

You entered the usually quiet library and seen that like usual, there were no more than ten people enjoying their books, some getting coffee, and some chatting amongst themselves quietly.

Celeste wasn’t here due to it being her day off, but luckily Jenna was here. 

You two weren’t as close as you and Celeste, but Jenna was always there for small chats and book recommendations when you needed her. However, Jenna is usually present for a few months at a time considering she visits her boyfriend in California for a few weeks at a time. 

You quickly went straight to the “Drama” section of the library and selected “How It Ends” by Laura Wiess. This was a traditional favorite considering you’ve read it a few years back.

You made your way to the small table next to a window that let in as much natural light as you needed.

It wasn’t long until you were a few chapters into the book and the library slowly gained more people...but sadly not the person you were looking for. College students, elderly, even young kids stopped inside to either return or check-out books...but sadly, not who you were waiting for.

Jenna spotted you with your long face and giggled before finishing her task with helping a customer before walking over to your slightly slumped figure.

“Why the long face? Are you waiting on a date to show up?” She gracefully placed her long dark hair behind her ear before fixing her small gold hoop earrings.

 “I wish. Last week I came here and saw a gorgeous man who I assume works here? He told Celeste to go home for the night while he locks up.” She looks at you intriguingly before shifting in her spot.

“What did he look like?”

You didn’t hesitate to give the memorized description that played in your mind like a broken record. From his eyes and deadly gaze to his tall and buff frame. 

As Jenna’s face lit up, you knew you’ve struck gold.

“Oh! I know who you’re talking about! Hes the owner of this library and our boss. I believe he owns two libraries, and the other is in Goyang.” As if on cue, the male you’ve been waiting for all along walks in.

He was dressed more formally than usual. He wore black slacks with a white button up and a different pair of glasses that weren’t like the solid black square frames you saw last time.

Jenna gave a light bow before the two began exchanging a few words in Korean.

Before going back to work, Jenna gave you a quick wink and headed off.

“I remember your face.” You glanced at the man and saw his deep dimples bury into his cheeks. “Mind if I sit with you?”

You mentally kicked yourself before nodding and returning a light smile.

~

A few minutes passed as you continued to read your book; stealing glances at the male every few minutes. He worked on his laptop and sipped from his iced coffee as his focused gaze never left the screen.

He was stunning.

You went back to reading until you were interrupted, but not at all mad.

“I hope this doesn’t seem like a strange question, but do you enjoy coming to this library? Or do you perhaps feel as if there could be improvements?” You were slightly taken aback before answering honestly.

“Not at all! The scenery and atmosphere are lovely and not at all overbearing. The coffee is amazing, and the service here is nice. I have no complaints.”

A light blush was spotted on his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That’s good. I work to improve all of my establishments...I’ve also noticed you’ve taken a liking to this one.”

You glanced at him with a confused look in which he quickly stammers over his words and blushes harder from embarrassment.

“Sorry ma’am I didn’t mean it like that...I check my cameras after every few days and noticed you were a consistent visitor.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. To some it might be creepy, but it was no secret that you came very often.

“May I please have your name?” He smiled with dimples on full display as you both locked eyes.

“Kim Namjoon, and you?”

“y/n y/l/n”

You both spent the rest of the evening talking about the library, personal interest, and a small portion of your dating life. He was such a tree hugger and loved everything art and theatre life. You both talked about museums and upcoming shows that would be playing this time of month as well.

You both talked for so long, you didn’t even notice the night sky and how every person that once filled the library were gone.

“Well, it appears I should be locking up soon... would you be free to go on a date with me tomorrow?” 

You smiled at the male as he looked back with full anticipation.

“I would love too.

~

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

shiver, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader mentions of jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

summary: Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin set you up after vain attempts to cure your, what they call, chronic high-strung workaholic tendencies. Bleh. As if a date with Min Yoongi is going to help the situation. You aren't going on this date and, even if you did, you wouldn't take him home and fuck him all night. Or admit he was giving you that shiver.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, slight crack (you tweezed a hair off Jimin's dick); mentions of previous partners and implied smut; smut (fem reader, mild bondage, f-receiving oral, lil bit of a praise kink, doggy); non-idol!AU - music producer!Yoongi x pansexual, softdom!reader, ft best friend and ex-bf!Namjoon, (maybe too) close friend!Jimin, friend!Taehyung

--

“Look, I like dick, okay? The gender attached to it doesn’t bother me. A dick’s a dick and if you want to put it in me, I’m down, and if you don’t and wanna do other stuff, that’s cool too, I’m just letting you know I like dick–”

“Who are you talking to?”

You exploded, rocketing your desk chair backwards, nearly dropping your phone, gawking at the tall, dark, handsome man with the baritone voice standing in your bedroom door, blinking at you slowly with his brown doe eyes and long lashes, black-brown curls framing his tanned cheekbones and strong brows.

“T-Taehyung?!”

Kim Taehyung raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Why were you practicing a speech about dick?”

You clutched your phone, flapping your jaw loosely, pointing to it, to him, to yourself, rambling nonsense.

“There’s this app and I was writing a message to someone and they were worried about – but I wasn’t sure if it sounded right – and what, why are you here…?”

He raised the other eyebrow. “I want to talk to Jimin about something. He said he was going to stop by later so he gave me your key.” He raised his hand and, there it was, your house key. “Said it was fine if I just walked in.”

Park Jimin… said it was fine… to walk into your apartment? Without asking you first.

Who raised this child?!

To be fair, it was fine. You weren’t upset at Taehyung specifically. You didn’t know him as well as Jimin, who was one of your closest friends, but he was Jimin’s best friend. You trusted Jimin’s choice in friends, but, jeez, he really was lackadaisical when it came down to your personal space. He acted like it didn’t exist.

“Ah… okay,” you said, clearing your throat and placing your phone, screen down, on your desk.

“Why is Jimin hanging out here? You guys dating?” Taehyung asked off-handedly.

You nearly choked on air.

“No, we are not,” you snorted, walking up to him. He looked nice. Taehyung always did. He was casually sexy in his green sweater and dark gray pants. He was the kind of guy who could wear anything and look great simply because he walked around with such calm confidence. “I don’t know exactly; he said we should hang out and watch movies because I’m, how did he put it, a chronic high-strung workaholic who needs divine intervention.”

Taehyung nodded, pursing his lips. “True.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped.

He ignored your outburst. “I suppose he considers himself the divine intervention?”

“Uh, well, yeah, I guess, I didn’t think of it like that–”

“You’ve never thought about his dick?”

You blinked rapidly. “What.”

Taehyung shrugged. “I mean, you guys hang out a lot. And you like dick,” he added, gesturing to your phone, to which you abruptly jerked to stand in front of it so it was no longer in his vision. “You might want to consider seeing his dick.”

“I’ve seen his dick.”

Now it was Taehyung’s turn to blink rapidly. “What.”

You raised your hands in innocence. “He had a hair on his dick.”

“… What.”

You scratched the back of your head. “Well, he had a hair growing on the underside of his dick and he couldn’t get to it so he asked me to help, but you can’t exactly pluck a hair when the dick is limp so I helped him get hard and then I tweezed it off and he was very upset, even though he was the one who asked me to do it so I don’t know why he was so sobby about it, but I ended up putting it in my–”

Taehyung was staring at you, slack-jawed.

You stopped speaking, realizing what you were saying.

Your front door opened.

“Hey, Taehyung! Thanks for leaving the door open for me. Where are you guys? Oh, there you are. What are you guys doing?”

You both turned to look at the cheerful, oblivious face of Park Jimin, his previously blond hair freshly dyed black. He must have been at a hair appointment running late. He sent you both a big, beaming smile.

“Eh?”

-

"I need you to do something."

"What?"

Once again, someone needing you to do something. Who would have guessed? Just an endless cycle of people asking you to do things. When is someone ever going to ask you what you want to do? Hm?

Hmph.

He shoved another spoonful of red bean ice cream in your mouth and you continued listening because of it.

"I need you to sleep with Min Yoongi."

You choked and had a mild brainfreeze.

"Just kidding, I only need you to go on a date with him."

Not much better.

You gawked at Park Jimin, who continued calmly scooping out another spoonful of ice cream to feed you. As if this was normal behavior. You missed the blond hair on him. Blond-haired Jimin didn't suggest this kind of random bullshit. Black-haired Jimin was evil. His hair was full of secrets.

You know, that kind of person.

Jimin lifted the spoon and opened his plump lips as if he was instructing a child how to eat. You gave him an indignant scowl and he shoved the spoon in the crack of your open lips. That got him a disgruntled tut.

"Jimin, I'm not library book, you can’t let your friends borrow me when they need to look taken."

He rolled his eyes, all the sass and lacking in class. "That was one time, and you know Taehyungie's ex was a persistent bitch."

"Yeah, I had to slap her, remember?"

Jimin's hair has been black then too, when he asked you to help him. Mmmhmm. Help.

"She deserved that slap!"

"But why did I have to do it?" you grumbled. "You can slap a ho. You don't need me."

"I shouldn't hit a girl no matter how much of a lying, cheating scumbag she is," Jimin puffed, angrily jabbing at the ice cream and shoving it into your mouth. You glared at him. Why was he taking it out on you? He was lucky you loved this brand, otherwise he'd be getting slapped right now.

"Oh, but I should, okay, cool."

"You'd slap anything and call it your bitch."

You were about to retort but then you lowered your hand, frowning. "Okay, true, but that doesn't explain why you're pawning me off to Yoongi now."

"Because you need it."

And you snapped your head around to see Kim Namjoon, your ex-boyfriend, now best friend, waltz into your bedroom like he owned the damn place. You did, in fact, give him your key and you were expecting him, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but you complained anyway, because that’s what humans do. Complain.

"Is nothing sacred in my home?" you muttered as Namjoon grabbed your desk chair and rolled it over to the bed, sitting down in front of you and Jimin. You were wearing black pajamas with little cats on them and Jimin was wearing the yellow ones with little dogs on them. Button-up shirt and long pants. Same brand and style, different print. Namjoon, however, was wearing a white graphic t-shirt and loose brown trousers with thin tortoise-shell and gold framed glasses that didn't have any lenses in them.

You were very tempted to poke him in the eye but, alas, you had some self-restraint.

"I thought you were going to talk about this last night," Namjoon mused, raising an eyebrow at Jimin.

Jimin suddenly seemed incredibly interested in getting the perfect spoonful of ice cream. "I got distracted."

"Horny. He means he got horny."

A violently large chunk of red bean ice cream was shoved in your mouth.

Namjoon laughed at your near-death expression.

"Don't tell him," Jimin hissed. "That's fucking weird. He's your ex."

"Then why would you do it?" Namjoon chuckled. "For the record, the relationship is no longer romantic, so I would no longer have a say even if it did bother me."

"I... well..." The younger man sputtered awkwardly.

You coughed and beat your sternum, glaring at Jimin. "The hell was that for? I rode your dick!"

Namjoon seemed highly amused and suddenly invested. "Ah, yes, and then?"

"Well, maybe it would have helped the situation..." Jimin said shiftily, eyes darting about as he turned bright red.

"Helped what?" you grunted, rubbing your throat at the uncomfortable sensation of a half-frozen esophagus.

"Doesn't seem like it helped," Namjoon remarked, placing a hand on his chin, still smiling.

You narrowed your eyes. "What are you talking about? All Jimin was going on about last night was how he hadn't had a good fuck in years–"

Namjoon snorted. "Years? Huh, that's odd, I seem to recall you getting laid four months ago at that party."

"That was four months ago and it was terrible!" Jimin whined, shaking the spoon. "And why are you talking about this with her, ahhhh!"

You and Namjoon shared a confused look as Jimin freaked out and snarfed down the rest of the ice cream, completely forgetting that he was using it as leverage to convince you of his grand master plan.

"Was it nice?" Namjoon inquired, diverting his attention from Jimin’s panic.

"Yeah, it was nice to have a partner who wasn't a complete idiot for once."

"That's good. I'm surprised you didn't ask before, honestly. You two are always hanging out."

"Never thought about it. What about you?"

"Ah, I fucked that girl who works at that coffee shop."

"Oh, yeah, the one with the nice tits?"

"Mmm, unfortunately that's about as much good as you can say about that one."

"That's sad. I'm sorry."

"Heh, no big deal, it'll happen when it happens. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that."

"Can you guys stop doing that thing?" Jimin grumbled from his spot on the bed, clutching the ice cream container and surrounding himself with your copious amount of cat plushies, including your one-meter-long giant calico cat. His ears were still red.

"What thing?" Namjoon asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, what thing?" you echoed, raising your brows.

Jimin rolled his eyes. "I don't get why you guys broke up."

"Pretty simple reason, really."

"I think it's obvious," you agreed.

Jimin looked from you to Namjoon, frowning.

"Well?' he demanded.

You looked at Namjoon and he caught your eye, trying not to smile. "Oh, he wants us to tell him."

"Huh, kinda seems like it, yeah. A little invasive, don't you think?" Namjoon pretended to think, rubbing his chin.

"He is a little bit of a, how to say this, nosy little brat."

"Hello, I am right here?!"

"That's a little harsh. Perhaps more akin to the local neighborhood bird that's always flying around, intruding on conversations with their loud chirping."

"You are very kind."

Jimin looked livid. He chucked one of your cat plushies at your head and you cracked up, falling to the bed laughing. Namjoon shook his head, laughing with you in that rich, full tone with low depth, a little goofy and with a lot of dimple.

"It's a dumb reason, but basically we weren’t feeling that spark," you explained, sitting up and pushing your hair out of your face. "Sure, we could fuck just fine, but it was too obvious that something was missing. We're better as friends."

"You wanna get married if we're both eighty and single?" Namjoon joked.

"Yikes, if I'm eighty and single, fuck, might as well."

"Perfect, always wanted to know how much libido I would have at that age."

"Anyway," Jimin scowled. "Back to the matter at hand."

"Oh, right, what do you think about Yoongi-hyung? He's single and he’s nice."

You rubbed your nose. “Ah, I don’t know him very well. He’s quiet, isn’t he? I get the impression that he’s a chill and lazy guy. Doesn’t talk much.”

Namjoon nodded. “Maybe you need that.”

You made a face. “Why?”

“You are kind of a chronic high-strung workaholic,” Jimin cut in.

You twitched. “No, I’m not.”

Namjoon nodded sagely. “You kind of are. I would know.”

“Ah, don’t do me like that,” you sighed, admitting defeat.

“Did sleeping with Jimin help?” he prompted.

“Why would that help?”

“Wow, that’s really rude,” Jimin snapped.

“But why would that help me be less of a workaholic?” you retorted, frowning. “I’m not following your logic.”

Namjoon rubbed his chin. “Maybe just a date then. With a calm guy. It will be a change of pace and you can get to know Yoongi-hyung better at the same time.”

You twisted your lips. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I think you’ll like him if you knew him better.”

You frowned.

“I don’t want to be passed around your entire friend group like a hot potato, Namjoon. I’m not going on a date with him.”

-

“Wow, Namjoon, you look a lot like your ex-girlfriend. Is it that new diet?”

Why are you standing here? Why did you agree to this? Why is did people ask you to do things and you do them? Because you were nice, that’s why. Deep, deep down in that frozen glacier canyon you called a heart. Shit. Why couldn’t you just be a bitch? That would make life a whole that easier.

“New diet and a lot of plastic surgery, modelled after the hottest woman I know,” you said sarcastically, turning around to face the deep voice.

“Mmm, I agree.”

You froze a little, seeing Min Yoongi standing there nonchalantly. Black hat with two silver rings punched into it, black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, black jeans with rips at the knees. Nice black boots. Silver hoop earrings and an assortment of silver rings. Yoongi had always dressed well, but it felt strange knowing he still dressed like this even though it was to meet you.

Well, maybe it was just because he was out being seen by people and not you specifically.

“I didn’t know you liked rap,” Yoongi commented, holding up his ticket.

You held up yours. “I like all music. And who doesn’t like Epik High?” You laughed a little. “Funny that you also printed out the ticket. Does that make us old?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I like having a physical copy. For memories.”

“Mmm. Sentimental.”

He looked to the direction of the venue. Then he looked back to you. There was something different in his expression now. You tilted your head. Then you saw his dark brown orbs slide up and down. A strange shiver went up your spine.

Yoongi was checking you out.

And he wasn’t hiding it.

“You look nice.”

You didn’t miss the way the side of his lips curved upwards, giving his words little bit of a dangerous edge.

You looked down at yourself, at the black denim jacket layered over a long black-and-white striped shirtdress. Thick-soled knee-high black boots, because you were going to a concert and wanted to be comfortable. Your mesh silver choker cut into your neck a little from looking downwards. You wore a single ring on your left hand, middle finger.

A silver raven’s skull.

“Ah… should have put forth more effort. You look neater than I do,” you mused, starting to walk.

“Hm.”

You almost didn’t hear his next words.

“If you had put forth more effort, it might have been too risky for me.”

You ticked you head back and found Yoongi smirking at you under his hat, flashing a bit of his white teeth.

“You gonna drink?”

-

“I told you, I gotta drive.”

“I’m not pressuring you. I’m just confused why you would buy overpriced water.”

You clicked you tongue. “Well, they don’t exactly let you bring your own.”

Yoongi chuckled, taking a sip of his beer.

“And besides, you’re buying even more overpriced alcohol, so you’re worse.”

His eyes slid to yours. “I need it.”

You unscrewed the cap and drank the cold water, feeling it ice your veins. “And I need hydration.”

“You don’t drink because you lose control, huh? Control of what, exactly?”

You shifted on your heels. “I get too oppressive. It’s no good for anybody.”

You usually arrived early to these things, so there was time to kill. There were lots of people around, but for some reason it felt like the only person you could hear was Yoongi standing right next to you. The other people around you were only white noise.

“Namjoon and Jimin say you work too much.”

You clicked your tongue. “Namjoon and Jimin need to mind their own business.”

Yoongi chuckled. There was a dry rasp to it, low and sexy. “You still work at that hospital?”

“Yeah. I work on their software. There’s always something wrong with that outdated piece of shit,” you muttered. “Should really just tear it up and overhaul it, but the superiors won’t do it because it’s expensive. Like it isn’t expensive fixing it every five seconds, but okay.”

“Heh, that’s how that generation is. Outdated.”

You huffed. “Mmm, you can say that again.” You cocked your water bottle to him. “You work at the same music company as Namjoon, right? Producer?”

Yoongi nodded. “Mhm.”

You sensed a little bit of embarrassment for some reason. Then you noticed he was looking at your ring.

“You wondering about this?” You turned your wrist and held it up, water swishing behind it.

“You always wear it. Namjoon give it to you?” he asked, taking another sip of his beer.

You shook your head, laughing a little. “Nah. Different ex.” You looked down at it. “And they didn’t give it to me. They said something to me and it stuck with me. When I saw this ring, I decided to buy it.”

You recalled the quote like it was yesterday.

“Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door.”

Yoongi blinked at you.

You translated the English from Korean and he raised his eyebrows.

“Edgar Allan Poe?”

You dropped your hand, clicking your tongue. “Basically saying I was a lingering poison of a human being and they wanted to break up with me.”

Yoongi tutted. “Interesting. How creative.”

You rolled your eyes. “What I get for fucking literature majors during university, I guess.”

“But you brought the ring anyway.”

You paused, looking down at the silver raven skull.

“To remind myself to stop fucking literature majors.”

You looked up at Yoongi and his eyes searching your expression. It was suddenly a weird moment, his eyes so solidly on you, as if he could see everything, but that was impossible. Your skin tingled all over, even under your clothes.

“They were insecure, huh?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “Made me question every fucking interaction I've ever had, wondering if I left the wrong impression or could be misinterpreted or some shit. Everything was so messed up.” You frowned, adjusting your shoulder slightly, sighing out the thoughts of the past. “Ah, it was a long time ago anyway. I’ve already erased them.”

“Is that why you broke up with Namjoon?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why does everybody think there’s some big drama between Namjoon and I? Would we still be friends if there was something that serious?”

Yoongi took another sip. “I think I speak for everyone when I say it seemed like you suited each other.”

“Hah, it’s not that we don’t have similarities. Kind of the opposite, really.” You waved a hand. “You know, two people have certain preferences and one of us was always on the bottom and neither of us liked that. Maybe it was him or me, and I love the guy, but not like that. We could fuck and it would be great, but we both agreed there wasn’t that… feeling. That shiver you get with that person. Sometimes I think we only got together because everyone kept pressuring us, saying we should, and not because we actually wanted to.”

“Hmm.”

The lights dimmed and you turned to face the stage.

“What about Jimin?”

“What about him?”

“Heard you plucked a hair off his dick.”

You twitched. “Let me guess, Taehyung told you.”

“Taehyung told everyone. He was a bit drunk.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Jimin’s a great friend, but he’s a bit clingy with me. Always wants to be near someone. It can be good for some people, but I don’t think I could take it twenty-four-seven if we were actually dating. Not my type.”

“Do you have a type?”

You shot Yoongi a look as the crowd began to hum with excitement. “Do you?”

Those cat-like eyes gleamed in the impeding darkness, a flash of white from his open-mouthed smirk.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to this date if I didn’t.”

-

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yeah, it was great. Never seen you excited like that, eh, Yoongi?” You smacked him lightly in the arm, smirking. “That’s the most energy I’ve ever seen you have.”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. His cheeks were lightly pink, although he didn’t seem drunk. “I have energy. I’m just not wasting it.”

“Hmm.”

A short silence as the crowd filtered out around you, but again, even though you were surrounded by people, the only one that seemed to be heard was the man in front of you, peering down at you from underneath his black cap, a small smirk on his lips, tiny flash of pink tongue as he moved it inside his mouth.

“You driving home, yes?”

“Yeah.” You stared into his brown eyes. “Want a ride?”

An eyebrow lifted. “Inviting me to fuck?”

Blunt.

You scoffed. “Nah. I already told Namjoon and Jimin I’m not gonna be passed around their friend group like a hot potato. This was nice though. I enjoyed it.”

He looked you up and down again. That strange shiver went up and down your spine again. He stared you down. You stared back, unrelenting. The world was loud, but this moment was your eyes and his eyes, electricity between them.

Yoongi’s smirk widened.

-

"I always wanted a beautiful woman to tie me up."

Men. Women. Nonbinary. Agender. Gender neutral. Gender fluid. Didn't fucking matter, people were people, and they always wanted shit from you. Always. It was always about what they could get from you and how they could pretend to be what you wanted to get what they wanted. Everyone always looking out for themselves.

You could respect that.

Just, for once, it would be nice if someone wanted to give you what you wanted.

You cracked your neck and looked down at his dark eyes covered in messy black hair, his pale cheeks less pink now, his head on your pillows and sandwiched in between your plethora of cat plushies, pink lower lip in his teeth.

Smirking.

Wasn't hiding a damn thing.

"Who knew you could be a bad boy, Min Yoongi?"

His smirk widened, tongue between his teeth.

"I'm good when I'm good. When I'm bad, I'm better."

His black cap with the two silver rings was somewhere on your bedroom floor and so was his leather jacket, his shirt, his jeans, and his socks. His pale wrists were tied together with red bondage rope. Yours. You were straddling his chest, missing only one article of clothing.

Alright, you were missing socks too.

No one fucked with socks on. If you did, maybe it was time to reevaluate your life.

“You don’t mind being tied up, hm?” you taunted, sliding out of your jacket, tossing it aside.

Everyone wanted something.

What did Min Yoongi want?

Yoongi let his tongue slide out, dancing in the air. Taunting you back before replying.

“Just because you’re tied up doesn’t mean you’re not in control.”

Your hand paused in front of the button placket of your shirtdress. You traced a button with your thumb, slowly, watching his face. Spread your legs more, lowering yourself, hovering over him. You could feel him breathe under you, patient, humming with energy. He flitted the wet pink muscle, skimming his lower lip, waiting. Dark brown orbs hazed with lust under strands of black.

“You wanna stop after sitting on my face, that’s fine, but you have to at least sit on my face.”

You chuckled. “Yeah?”

You sat down on his torso and he sucked in a breath, eyes flicking down to the darkness still covered by your shirt, then back up to your face. You shifted your hips slowly, smearing the hot, dripping softness on his skin.

“Could just… stop here.”

You scooted upward, drawing a fat line of your juices up his chest and to his neck. You knew how much pressure to apply. Didn’t seem to matter though, because Yoongi didn’t seem to give a fuck. He tipped his head back, pressing his Adam’s apple into your throbbing heat and shuddering in pleasure. His gaze found yours and you stopped, suddenly trapped, a moment of his eyes and your eyes, electricity flaring between them.

“I’m glad Namjoon asked me to take you on a date,” Yoongi drawled, deep voice vibrating your heated, wet core from his throat. “Made me feel less guilty about wanting to fuck you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Got some weird bro code rules or something?”

He smirked. “Oh, I respect him.” He swallowed and you felt a shiver slide up your spine, feeling the action from your throbbing pussy faster than you heard it. “I just want you more.” Exhale, and you felt the warmth against your shirt, making it flutter. You unbuttoned it slowly, one by one. “Want to see the satisfaction on your face when I make you cum.” Slowly, not parting the shirt yet, letting him see the line of exposed skin. His eyes travelled up and down shamelessly, not hiding anything. He noticed you observing him and grinned.

That open-mouthed smirk, teeth and hint of tongue.

“Come on. Give it to me.”

Voice so deep it seemed to be shimmering through you, dark eyes flashing in the darkness.

Teasing you.

“Gonna make you cum so hard, you’ll untie me and beg me to fuck you.”

You cocked a brow.

“Let’s see.”

You sat on his face.

You felt Yoongi’s smirk against your soaked folds for a second before his tongue slid in, instantly making your thighs tense at the sensation. Hot to hot, wet to wet, no, wetter, your hands on your headboard as his tongue curled inside you, thrusting upwards, drinking the wetness from you, low moan vibrating through your torso and you felt his eyes on you, on your shirt slowly opening, one shoulder gliding down, and you shrugged out of it, suddenly boiling, skin pricking from the heat of his gaze, tossing it aside, leaving you in your black bra.

He tipped his chin up and you gasped, feeling his tongue swipe upward, fuck, a smooth, deft motion, circling your clit. You clicked your tongue and rolled your hips into his face. Yoongi chuckled before latching onto it and sending a burning wave of pleasure through you.

Your nails dug into the headboard, making a loud scrape.

He purred your name against your packed nerves and you drenched his chin, glaring down at him.

Yoongi had the audacity to bounce his eyebrow in response.

Alright, you could admit it.

Going on a date with Min Yoongi was not a waste of time.

You grinded against his face and he sucked and licked your clit at the same time, fuck, moans in his throat, not unaffected by you humping his face, but resolute, focused on his task of pleasuring you, shivering as your hand fitted around his head, fingers tangling in his already messy black hair, roughly fucking his face as his tongue assaulted you, somehow the perfect mix of demanding and servitude, hot exhale on your skin, your juices covering his chin and cheeks, your soft thighs pressed against his face, teetering between suffocating and barely enough breath, closer, closer, the tightness rising within you, looking down as you felt your opening flexing against his chin and his eyes flickered up to you instantly, imprinting the memory of his dark brown orbs overtaken by black pupils staring into yours, lips wrapped around your clit, in the midst of pushing you to the edge.

“Fucking shit,” you hissed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Something flitted in his eyes and he looked back down immediately, increasing his pace and you moaned, closed fist against the headboard, but not missing his reaction. A slow smile grew on your lips, hand in his hair relaxing, massaging his scalp.

“You like being praised?” you purred, sweet octave to your voice.

The quickest flick of his gaze before licking your clit furiously as a reply.

Hot sparks igniting your veins, drawing in a tight breath, staring down, putting a little more weight on him, but Yoongi didn’t say anything, not even looking at you anymore, so close. You knew it would only take a little more. You could tell from the viscous slickness that was coating his skin that you had maybe seconds left.

“A handsome face and talented tongue,” you breathed. “No wonder I couldn’t resist you, Yoongi.”

His whimper made you tremble in delight, eyes to eyes, addicted to it, him to you and you to him, and you gasped his name, biting your lip and throwing your head back as your hips rocked into his mouth and spilled onto his face with a wet squelch, fuck, so much even you could smell it, hearing Yoongi groan as it filled his mouth, his tongue shoving into your folds and lapping up the rapid pulses, your throbbing clit on the back of his tongue, pressing into you, his nose in your crotch, one of your hands in his hair and one on the headboard, muscles flexing and quivering with the ecstasy, eyelids closing, immersed in it. Savoring the feeling coursing through your body, from your core to your limbs to your head, filling you with shivers that were unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You removed some pressure from his face, letting go of his head, but Yoongi followed, hungrily licking you all over, nipping at your inner thighs, flinches of pleasure extending your high before going back to your pussy, up, down, side to side, drenching you in his saliva and drinking your cum like it was his fucking life force.

Well, shit.

You opened your eyes, panting.

Damn.

You had a whole speech prepared for Namjoon and Jimin about how setting you up with their friends was a bad idea and how they should mind their own fucking business and now you had to prepare a speech about how you needed your house keys back because you were going to fuck Min Yoongi every second of every day and you hadn’t even had his dick yet.

You looked down at him.

Yoongi’s eyes were slightly unfocused, exhaling heavily against your crotch, staring at it.

“Fuck me, you have a pretty pussy,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuck.”

Half of your cat plushies were on the bed and the other half were on the floor.

“You have an excellent tongue,” you chuckled. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

He blinked once and his gaze was on you, half-shyness, half-cockiness, wholly sexy as fuck.

“Didn’t want to make Namjoon feel bad,” he snickered, pink lips shiny with your juices. “You would have left him a lot sooner if you knew.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Something about his tone make you think Yoongi meant it on some level.

You wouldn’t have tried to find out, but now that you experienced it…

Maybe.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

Yoongi gave you that smirk you were beginning to become addicted to seeing. “That all you want from me?”

You laughed, sly and full.

“No, Yoongi, I’m gonna need your dick.”

-

“I don’t beg, so I’m not untying you.”

“Damn, what a terrible result.”

Yoongi didn’t seem the least bit worried about it.

He sank his nails into your ass and pushed himself in, your hand snaked below to guide him. You weren’t unreasonable, after all. You helped him put on the condom and shoved your tits in his face, rubbing your nipples all over his cheeks, his pink tongue stretching from side to side, eyes on you the entire time, getting harder and harder with the way you manhandled him, moaning into your skin.

Not hiding anything.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed, gritting his teeth, gripping your ass, wrists still bound. He violently smacked his hips into your ass and you grinned, hands now on the bed.

“Mmm, what a nice…” You pulsed, making Yoongi groan. “Hard.” Again, hearing his ecstasy. “Cock.” He scraped your ass and up your back, gasping for breath, desperation in his touch. You turned your head, giving him the reflection of his own smirk. He gazed back, eyes glazed over, torso shuddering from the repeated massaging of his length buried in you, all from your muscle control.

“Hold on, Yoongi.”

Something between teasing and adoration, and you visibly saw Yoongi tremble in excitement.

“You got it.”

You turned back and sank your hands into your pillows, sliding on his stiffness and ramming yourself back onto it, making both him and you groan in unison, rough, deep strokes of visceral fucking, you commanding the pace. Didn’t matter if you were the one on your hands and knees, you used him and he wanted to be used, barely able to grip your waist, moaning your name and fucking you back, loud, sloppy smacks of ass to crotch, flexing your shoulder blades akin to a lioness on the prowl chasing their prey, and you heard Yoongi chuckle, breathing swallow and euphoric.

“Look at this back view, fuck, you are the sexiest woman alive.”

Breathless with desire, smug at having you, in awe of your prowess, all at once, clutching the small of your waist as you clenched around him, the shudders of your walls closing in, painting his crotch and balls with you, his quivering moan trapped in his chest because he could barely get it out. You caught your lower lip between your teeth, feeling him fill you as you pushed back, the rush immeasurable, unfathomable, anchoring your palms into your mattress and growling his name, the smacking of hips to hips, desperation to desperation, a brief reprieve as you snatched a cat plush and jammed it under your chest before you reached back and felt for the end of the rope, unlacing the knot with ease, and Yoongi yanked his wrists free with a swift hiss of satisfaction, grabbing your ass and fiercely fucking you, harder, rougher, just as much for him as it was for you, your name falling from his lips, unable to hide his lust, chasing it, chasing you, and you didn’t let up.

“Yoongi, fuck, yes, your cock feels so fucking good, fuck!”

Deep, intense, powerful, everything you were and everything he was, and it all crashed down, stealing your breath, pleasure clawing up your spine and taking over, lungs suddenly emptied with the force of each hard pulse of pleasure snaking upwards to fill the void, squeezing him so hard that you weren’t sure if that was voluntary or not, your joined inner thighs trembling and dripping, sweet slickness sliding down, drenching you and Yoongi, his groan piercing the air and cutting through your thoughts. His cock twitched and jerked, pumping thick gushes of cum and swelling the condom inside you.

Fucking shit, did you hold your breath? Everything lightheaded and hazy, reaching up and slapping your hand against the headboard, sucking in a lungful of air and rocking your hips back, riding the wave. Your felt Yoongi’s grip on your waist tighten, his pants so heavy you could feel the weight of his exhale on your back, heating your skin.

Snarl in your throat, definitive.

“I need this cock, Yoongi, need you and this perfect cock and I’m going to use it until I’m done.”

Rolling your hips, listening to his wanton moan at your words and the sensation, the messy squish of your movement, clenching around the sensitive head, slow, tight, your fingers curling to a fist, his name on your lips, low and seductive, and he responded in kind, your name in the same tone, drunk on the moment, the feeling, the power you had over him.

His nails in your back, creating long lines down your spine, and the shiver you got with that person, dancing up and down your vertebrate, unmistakable.

Yoongi gave it to you.

-

“Hey, so how’d it go–whoa!”

You popped your head out of your mountain of cat plushies and glared at the offender who burst into your bedroom. Who the fuck was that?

Guess.

“Jimin, do you know what personal space is?” Yoongi muttered from beside you, lifting himself on his elbows to peer disapprovingly over your naked shoulder.

“He doesn’t,” you mumbled, flopping back down.

“So… went well?” came Jimin’s cheerful and teasing voice from the doorframe.

You heard a cat plush get thrown like a cannonball.

“Ow, fuck, okay, I get it, hyung!” Jimin cackled, stumbling down your hallway. “I’ll come back later!”

“Don’t,” Yoongi snapped back, grumbling as he slid back down on the bed.

“You better pick him back up later,” you warned, referring to the plush.

“You dumped half of them on the ground so we could sleep.”

“No, they fell because we were fucking.”

You opened your eyes to see Yoongi smirking at you. There was a cat plush next to his head. One of your favorites. You picked it up and bonked him in the head with it. He made a disgruntled grunt and flinched away from it, ending up closer to your face. Eyes to eyes, electricity between them. You smirked, matching him, leaning in, arm curving around his head.

Tapping the tuxedo cat plush on his shoulder.

His breath against your lips, lust and fondness, not hiding anything.

“Hey, Yoongi.”

“Hm?”

Playing along, a willing participant in your games, one eye open, as if he was winking at you.

“I like you. You’re mine.”

He chuckled, a little raspy, a little embarrassed, and a lot amused.

“Sit on my shoulder, my raven. I’ll never ask you to leave.”

--

masterpost

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 29}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

“It’s not very professional of us to be late to our own party.”

Cassian was sitting on the couch, even as he hollered up the stairs, knowing Nesta could hear him.

“Don’t blame me,” she called back. “I’m not the one who decided to give the toddler a candy cane while he was wearing a white shirt.”

Cassian snorted, looking at the child in question, though he knew she was using Nyx’s last minute wardrobe change as an excuse. Nyx had been downstairs with him for nearly twenty minutes, the candy cane devoured long before that. The dark green sweater he now wore made his blue eyes sparkle and he giggled up at him, grinning. She was still in their bathroom, making herself look absolutely gorgeous, no doubt, but they were short on time.

“People are going to start arriving at seven and it’s six-fifteen now,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“I know, I know, shut up!” she yelled, but even Cassian could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Dada,” Nyx said, walking toward Cassian. “Nums?”

Nums. Cassian assumed it derived from the word yum, which meant that he was hungry. With a sigh, Cassian picked Nyx up and said, “I promise, as soon as we get to the restaurant, we’ll eat. I’m hungry as shit, too.”

“Way to teach the toddler how to curse.” Nesta’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs and Cassian spun around. He whistled as Nesta made her way down the stairs in a red dress and black heels.

Her long, golden-brown hair was down and in loose curls. Her lips were painted red, and green sparkles lined her eyes.

Cassian lifted a brow. “You look festive.”

Nesta chuckled. “Thank Elain. She’s the one that told me I’d better show up looking like Christmas or she’d make me look like Christmas when she got there.”

Cassian laughed, quietly. “Well, I think you look absolutely stunning.”

Nesta smiled as she stopped in front of him. “Thank you.”

They kissed, and Nyx babbled, loudly, letting them know it was time to break it up.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled, running a hand over his dark hair. “Let’s grab you a snack and we’ll go.”

“I want a snack,” Cassian protested, following her into the kitchen.

She was dropping a handful of goldfish crackers into a zip top bag, and looked at him over a shoulder. “I can’t tell if that was an innuendo or not.”

His eyes traveled down her body, snagging where her tight dress hugged her ample assets, but said, “For once, it wasn’t. Though if you want to sneak off to the store room later…”

Snorting, Nesta sealed the bag up and rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not.” She brushed past them, handing the baggie of crackers to Cassian as she pulled both Nyx’s and her own coats from the closet. “It is Christmas Eve though. Who knows what Santa may bring you when we get home?” She asked with a wink.

Cassian groaned. “You can’t tell me that now. We won’t be home for, like, six hours. Tease.”

“That’s what you love about me,” she muttered, helping Nyx put his coat on.

“There’s a lot of things I love about you,” Cassian promised.

Nesta rolled her eyes, but gave Cassian a kiss, anyways. “Suck up.”

Cassian grinned, and followed Nesta, carrying Nyx to the car.

It was a short drive to the restaurant, and when they arrived, it was already packed. Being Christmas Eve, the place was closed, but that didn’t mean that the place was empty. All of the employees and their families were there, along with Nesta and Cassian’s closest friends - which included Elain, Azriel, and Peresphone. Viviane was there, of course, both with Kallias and per Cassian and Nesta’s invitation. Other than that, their employees and their families filled the room. Considering Nesta had only begun with a few servers, seeing the extended family that they had built brought Cassian more joy than he could express.

Once they entered the restaurant, Nyx was instantly reaching for Viv. Cassian spotted Azriel and Kallias by the bar, and he chose to quickly join them while Nesta joined her sister and niece by the appetizers.

“Everything looks absolutely gorgeous,” Elain said, hugging Nesta, handing a grinning Seph to her.

She snorted. “I can’t even begin to take credit. I hired someone to decorate.”

Rolling her eyes, Elain said, “Well, it all smells amazing, too.”

That, Nesta could take full responsibility for, and she would. One of the large banquet tables she used for catering was stretched between two massive Christmas trees, and every festive holiday food that anyone could possibly want was piled on top. She was most proud of the beautifully decorated sugar cookies that were on every flat surface she could sit a plate on.

Looking around, she saw Nyx was already nibbling on one and she couldn’t stop her chuckle.

“You all seem to be doing well,” Elain noted.

Nesta raised a brow, looking from Seph to Elain. “Pardon?”

“You, Cass, Nyx…” Elain shrugged, with a grin. “You all seem to be doing well.”

Nesta looked over at the bar, where Nyx’s face was covered in the icing from the sugar cookie and Cassian was laughing at something that Kallias or Azriel had said. She laughed, softly. “Yeah, we are.”

Elain took Nesta’s hand, and when Nesta met her sister’s eyes, she smiled. “I’m glad.”

“No, no, no,” Nesta chastised. “We aren’t getting sappy.”

Elain gasped. “I’m not getting sappy.”

Nesta chuckled. “Yeah, okay.” She looked back over to Cassian. He was already looking at her. He smiled. She blushed, looking away.

“Honestly,” Elain began, taking Peresphone’s hand. “Tell me.”

Nesta sighed, laughing quietly. “I don’t know. Everything is going…really well. I don’t know. I… I feel like we’re a family. Cass is a great dad, and Nyx adores him. And, he calls me mama now. Which makes me feel amazing, even though I’m not sure that it should. It’s complicated, you know? I know I’m not his mom, and Cassian knows that he’s not his dad, but… We’ve filled those roles. We’ve filled those roles and we love those roles, El. But, it sucks, because...we’re not his mom and dad.”

Elain looked at Nesta for a long moment before taking her sister’s hand. “Do you love that child?”

Nesta blinked. “Of course-.”

“Does Cass love that child?”

Nesta took a deep breath. “Of course he does.”

“Then you are his parents,” Elain said, carefully. “No, it’s not biologically, and Feyre and Rhys will always be his mom and dad…but you two are their stand-ins. You’re his mom, Nes. Cass is his dad. By blood? No. But, by love? You’re what he has, and he is blessed because of it.”

Nesta told herself not to get too emotional, but she had been having a hard time with that lately. It was hard not to get too emotional when it felt like everything was going right.

Nesta didn’t believe in perfection.

But, she felt like her life - her life with Cassian and Nyx - was pretty damn close to perfection.

“I like seeing that look in your eyes,” Elain said, quietly.

Nesta snapped back to reality, raising a brow at her sister. “What look?”

“Happiness,” Elain said, simply. She nodded to Cassian. “Things are going well with him, I take it?”

Nesta leaned across the table. “Are you...asking me about what goes on in the bedroom?” She gasped. “Elain.”

“What?” She said, sipping from her wine glass. “He’s only been pining after you for nearly six years. I’d bet a man who’s been doing that would have some plans when he finally had his chance to—.”

“There’s my girl,” Azriel said, smiling as Seph saw her daddy approach and started giggling.

“I should go mingle,” Nesta said, even as Elain gave her a look that said This conversation is far from over. “You guys are still coming over for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Azriel replied, and Elain nodded in agreement, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Nesta did as she said she would, stopping around the room to see her servers, cooks, managers, bartenders. Along the way, she met their families, their husbands and wives and significant others. Their kids and parents and siblings. Anyone they decided to bring, Nesta welcomed them with a warm smile and kind words.

Cassian did the same, although not for as long, and ended up sitting with Viviane and Kallias, bouncing Nyx on his knee. Nesta couldn’t help but look at him every so often, admiring how handsome he was, admiring how much Nyx admired him.

Just as dinner was ready to be served, Nesta stood in the middle of the restaurant and clanked her fork against her wine glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for coming,” Nesta said, smiling as she looked around the room. “This last year has been so incredible. With the addition of our bar, we really skyrocketed, and business has been better than ever before.” A round of applause echoed through the room. “Because of that, I’ve been able to double our staff, which has been incredible. I wanted to have this little party tonight to just show you all how incredibly grateful I am for each and every one of you. So, let’s eat, drink, and celebrate until the clock strikes twelve!”

No one had any complaints about that.

The caterers brought each table a beautiful display of food and Nesta took a seat next to Cassian to enjoy it all.

Everything was delicious and all in attendance made sure Nesta knew they enjoyed every bite. It wasn’t long before the plates were cleared and desserts were brought out. Nyx managed to stay mostly clean, though that was mostly due to Viviane helping feed him, rather than Cassian leaving him to his own devices. Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she watched, especially when Kallias, eyes shining in adoration, brought her hand to his lips. Right next to the diamond sparkling on her ring finger.

He had proposed a few weeks prior, to no one’s surprise but Viviane’s and would be married just after the new year.

After years apart, they swore they knew what they had been missing in their lives, and didn’t want to waste another minute without the other.

Nesta found herself pondering that as she watched Cassian, talking and laughing with Azriel, Nyx already starting to doze off on his shoulder.

Happy. She thought back to Elain’s words. She had never been as happy, as perfectly content in her life, as she was now.

Her restaurant was thriving. She loved what she did, wouldn’t ever want to do anything else, woke up happy to go to work.

Nyx was the light of her life. Watching him grow, learning who he was going to be one day… Being his mama was the greatest gift she’d never expected.

And Cassian… She had found the love of her life, even though he’d been right in front of her the whole time. Kallias and Viv, their time apart hadn’t been intentional. Nesta’s separation from Cassian, that had all been by their own doing. And she wouldn’t let another minute slip by them. She would make sure he knew how much she loved him, for the rest of his life.

As Christmas rolled around at midnight, everyone started to go home. Nesta and Cassian would be soon behind them, considering they still had to put out gifts for Nyx to open in the morning. Nesta couldn’t wait. She knew he was still a little bit too young to understand what was going on, but she was certain his little day would be made, nonetheless.

With a yawn, Cassian came out of the kitchen, Nyx sound asleep in his arms. “Alright. Back door is locked. Trash is taken out. Kitchen is clean.”

“Good,” Nesta said, feeling tired, too. It had been a good night. A long night, but a good night. “Let’s go home and wait for Santa.”

Cassian groaned as he picked up Nyx’s diaper bag and headed for the door. “What if Santa is too tired to bring presents tonight?”

“I don’t think Santa has that option,” Nesta chuckled. “And, if Santa is lucky and does what he’s told, he might have a little surprise under the tree, too.”

Cassian raised a brow as he stepped into the chilly night. “Oh yeah? Tonight? Or, does Santa have to wait until morning, too?”

She rolled her eyes, taking the diaper bag from him and letting him carry Nyx out to the car, before locking the door. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

He winked at her before buckling the sleeping toddler into his carseat and then they were on their way. Before they knew it, they were home, and as soon as they pulled into the driveway, fat, fluffy snowflakes had begun to fall from the sky.

“Looks like you get your white Christmas after all,” Cassian crooned, knowing Nesta had been slightly disappointed it hadn’t snowed before the party tonight.

She sighed as they entered the house. “I hope so.”

Cassian took Nyx upstairs to lay him down, and though they’d joked about Cassian playing Santa all night, Nesta was the one to lay all the presents out underneath the tree. Of course, only she knew what lay in the boxes wrapped in festive paper for Cassian and Nyx, but she saw a few with her name on them.

She resisted the urge to shake each one of them and investigate.

After she pulled a large, rectangular box wrapped in sparkly paper out of the bag, she couldn’t resist the urge any longer. After looking around the living room, she gently shook the box. A throat cleared from the top of the stairs.

Nesta yelped, spinning around from where she sat on the rug in front of the tree. Cassian stood on the top stair, his arms crossed, a brow raised as he chuckled. “And what is it that you think you’re doing?”

“Just…checking things out,” Nesta said, slowly, setting the gift on top of the others as Cassian made his way down the stairs. “He asleep?”

“Drooling, snoring, the whole nine yards,” Cassian said, plopping down next to her on the rug. “We get to eat cookies and drink lots of milk, right?”

Nesta snorted. “I think he’s a little young for that part yet.”

“Damn,” Cassian whistled. “I was looking forward to it.”

Nesta laughed, crawling into Cassian’s lap. “I mean, if you want milk and cookies, by all means, get yourself some milk and cookies.”

His fingers lazily dragged up and down her back, the gesture nothing more than a soothing habit he’d picked up. “Maybe tomorrow. So I can share the cookies with the already energetic toddler.”

They sat on the couch, still in their party finery, and those fingers trailed that path on her back. Her head was tucked under his chin, and after a moment, he breathed, “I’m so excited for tomorrow. For him to wake up and see his presents.”

Nesta’s voice was a sleepy drawl when she responded. “I want him to love Christmas as much as Feyre did.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “He will. We’ll make sure he knows what an important day it is for our family.”

Our family.

The words had become common for them, as they realized that’s exactly what they were.

A family.

*

“MamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDada—.”

Cassian groaned, rolling over to his nightstand, where the baby monitor sat. Nyx was going on and on and on and on, apparently ready to be taken out of his crib.

Cassian blinked, checking his phone.

It was seven in the morning.

It was Christmas.

He was tired, he wouldn’t deny it. Nesta had worn him out the night before - more than once, under the tree, and again in their bed before Cassian passed out.

It wasn’t a day for exhaustion, though. It was a day of celebration and love, which is why Cassian pulled himself up and smacked Nesta on the ass before he climbed out of bed.

“Wake up, Nes. It’s Christmas!”

He was stumbling out of their bedroom before Nesta had even opened her eyes. As he approached the nursery, Nyx’s voice grew louder and louder. The moment he pushed open the door, Nyx was grinning, holding up his arms.

“Merry Christmas, buddy,” Cassian said, chuckling as he picked Nyx up out of his crib. After a diaper change and a switch into his Christmas onesie, Cassian was carrying Nyx down the stairs, yelling for Nesta to hurry up.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, yawning as she swept into the hallway.

Presents were obviously pretty high on the priority list, but in the Nazari-Archeron household, only one thing came first:

Breakfast.

Cassian gave Nyx a sippy cup of milk as he turned on the coffee pot and put the cinnamon rolls Nesta had prepared before the party last night into the oven.

He was stirring two spoons of sugar into her coffee when he heard her come into the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas, my handsome, little man,” she said, pressing a kiss to Nyx’s cheek. He giggled and held onto her face, giving her a wet, smacking kiss as well. It was something new he’d picked up and something Nesta adored to no end.

“And Merry Christmas to you,” she said, smiling up at Cassian, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rose up on her toes and kissed him.

“Pretty sure you told me that already, in quite a few ways last night,” he smirked, and she rolled her eyes smacking his chest.

“Eat quick,” Nesta said, sipping from her mug. “Santa came.”

Nyx babbled something as he drank his milk. “Too impatient to see what he brought you?” Cassian asked, sitting at the table, waiting for the cinnamon rolls to be done.

“Don’t act like you’re not,” Nesta grumbled, looking out the back window, where a newly fallen blanket of snow covered the yard.

“You’re going to make us all go outside and build a snowman, aren’t you,” Cassian muttered, as the alarm for the oven went off.

Nesta chuckled, pulling them out and turning the oven off. “Of course, I am. I didn’t buy Nyx that little snowsuit for nothing.”

After a quick bite to eat around the table, they were cuddled up together in the living room, by the tree. Nyx looked up at the strung lights in wonder as Cassian took out the first gift and slid it toward him.

“Go ahead, buddy, the first one is yours,” Cassian said.

Nyx blinked at the box before starting to hit it with his little fists.

Cassian snorted. “Well, at least it’s not breakable.”

They opened Nyx’s presents for him one by one and once he was sufficiently distracted with a brand new set of brightly colored blocks, stacking them up and knocking them down, giggles filling the room, Cassian and Nesta moved onto their own presents.

There were, of course, the generic things that they both expected from each other. Cassian gave her an entire new set of utensils for the kitchen, a wine and cheese subscription box for the year and a cookbook full of desserts he’d seen her eye for more than a few months.

She gave him a set of woodcarving tools, a new pair of boots, and a year-long membership to the new, fancy gym they had just built down the block that he had been eyeing every time they drove past it.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “I love it.”

“Of course,” she said, and kissed him, softly. “Now, let’s go build a snowman!”

“Wait,” Cassian called, even though she was already on her feet, heading toward the staircase. “You forgot one.”

There was no way she could have seen it.

It was tiny, and nearly blended into the tree skirt.

Nesta knew one thing for sure - she hadn’t put that one under the tree last night.

“Nyx, come here,” Cassian said, holding out his hand.

Nyx giggled, picking up his blocks to take with him, as he walked across the rug to Cassian.

Cassian handed him the little box. “Here. Bring mama her present.”

The words alone were so cute that Nesta couldn’t help but smile. She sat on the couch as Nyx waddled up to her, his blocks in one hand, her gift in the other.

“Thank you, buddy,” she said, laughing quietly as Nyx went back to playing with his blocks. Nesta slowly undid the bow on the top of the box, and tore off the wrapping paper.

She was left with a small, black velvet box.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, nearly forgot how to move, as she looked at the velvet box in her hand. Her thumb brushed over the soft fabric. “Cassian…”

“Open it, Nes,” he whispered, and she could hear the smile on his face.

She opened the box and fought the quiet gasp as she gazed at the beautiful ring inside.

A brilliant, cushion-cut diamond was nestled in the center of a ring of diamonds, and in the colorful lights of the Christmas tree, it sparkled.

She repeated herself, not quite remembering how to speak. “Cass…”

He gently took the box from her hand and slid from the couch, settling down on one knee.

“I know we haven’t had the most conventional relationship, but who we are, where we came from, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. This past year has simultaneously been the best and worst of my life. I lost my best friend, my entire world got turned upside down, but…” He took her hand in his. “I have the family I never imagined I would. I love Nyx. I can’t imagine a day without him now. Or a single minute without you, Nesta. I love you and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life reminding you of that.”

She was crying.

She didn’t know when the tears had begun, but they were streaming freely down her cheeks.

“Nesta,” he breathed, his voice a ragged mess. “Nesta, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She had begun saying the word before he had even finished his question. “Yes, Cassian, absolutely, yes.”

Cassian was pulling her toward him, kissing her without a care in the world. She laughed as their lips met, an unworldly amount of joy flooding throughout her body. They kissed, and Nyx laughed, and Cassian slid the ring onto her finger.

His fiancée.

His future wife.

He wasn’t sure how exactly he had gotten here, wasn’t sure how either of them had survived the past year, but somehow, they had. And they’d done it together.

It was a situation that could have damned them, that could have destroyed them both. There had been hard times, but the good far outweighed the bad. Just like he knew the future would as well.

Cassian could face anything, as long as his family was at his side.

[thegirlintheswivelchair]

Deep, Disastrous Love || H.H

Pairings: fwb!harry holland x crewmate!reader

Summary: You decided to amp up the meaning of a booty call and surprise Harry at the club. Little do you know, Harry’s struggling with how to deal with your fwb set up.

Wordcount: +3.2k

Warnings: SMUT (like so much of it y’all…it’s pwp), thigh riding, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!!!), super brief mention of alcohol, Angst (it gets angsty folks...sry), readers a tease and in complete denial, some swearing, and overuse of ellipses, aand I wanna say that’s it. (let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: Ok, so this turned into its own thing real quick. I meant for this to be a small little smut fic I could throw out there while I’m slowly making progress on everything else I’m writing! Jokes on me, this turned into its own monster and essentially I made pwp...lol I tried to do something here that I’m not entirely sure if it worked characterwise. So any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Ok, much love, and thanks for reading, liking, and reblogging!

MINORS DO NOT READ. +18 ONLY! THANK YOU!

----

The moment the elevator doors shut, your chest began to tighten as a certain anticipation and fear worked its way around your lungs. Butterflies raged in your stomach, and you felt your heartbeat pick up. 

You had never done this before. You had never surprised Harry. Not at a club, a party, heck you’d never even surprised him at his own door. It had always been a texted booty call or a drunken shag after a night out. That was the way your relationship worked when you weren’t just hanging out as friends. 

This, however...This was new territory. This was you showing up uninvited, purposefully teasing him, and hoping he’d take the bait.

You turned towards the mirrors that surrounded you and looked yourself over. The makeup you’d chosen wasn’t exactly dramatic, but it was smokier and sexier than you usually wore it, and like any fantasy you’ve had about a night like tonight, you rocked a deep, delicious red on your lips. 

Your hands found their way to your dress as you smoothed it out over your figure, making sure everything was perfect. It’s black fabric clung to your body, accentuating the right curves while forgiving others. It was the type of dress that made you feel invincible, and tonight you needed that.

Seeing the numbers steadily tick up to the rooftop where the club was, you turned back towards the doors and took a deep steadying breath in just as the last chime rang. 

Showtime.

The vibrations from the music thrummed through your body as you made your way towards the bar. Your eyes were already scanning the place, looking for the mop of curly red hair you were so familiar with. You didn’t see him until you had gotten your drink--courtesy of a gentleman down the way--and were sipping on it.

Harry was surrounded by a few of his friends, drinking what looked like his usual beer, and sporting a white t-shirt and jeans. You noticed he’d cut his hair. It was shorter, much shorter, than the last time you saw him. His curls were still there, but away from his forehead, no longer loose and running into his eyes. It was a clean cut, and there was something about the new look that had you biting your lip just thinking about what you might do to him tonight, given the chance.

Having found him, you knocked back the rest of your drink and started making your way towards the part of the dance floor closest to Harry and his friends. 

Alcohol and your focus on giving a show kept the self conscious feelings of dancing alone away, and the more you got into the music, the better you felt and the freer you moved. 

It wasn’t long before you started attracting attention. You felt eyes on you, saw the looks some people were giving you, watched the calculations being made for how they would approach you. 

But there was only one pair of eyes that mattered to you. When they finally found your figure, it was like fire licked over your skin. Starting at your feet, gliding up your legs, and wrapping around your torso the flames followed where his eyes traveled. 

You saw out of the corner of your eye, his whole body turning towards you, his tongue darting out and licking his lips. A smirk played on the corner of his mouth as his expression darkened. You could tell he knew what you were up to, and the thought alone added fuel to the fire burning across your body.

Not wanting your game to end just yet, you made it seem like you hadn’t noticed. You turned away from him, still dancing, pretending to be lost in the music. Your hips swayed, and you moved to the rhythm until you felt a pair of warm hands slide across your waist and pull you against a firm chest.

The hands guided you to keep moving as a low murmur made its way to your ears, “Didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

You smirked and murmured back, “Thought I’d spice up the meaning of a booty call.”

You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “Spice is right. Showing up here looking like this...” His voice trailed off as his hands slowly slid up and down your sides, and you felt the ghost of a kiss on your neck. The fire that followed his touch was beginning to pool at your core, and you wondered how long you could keep the act up.

“You like it?” you asked as you grind into him, your smirk growing when you heard him hiss. 

Like it? Was that even a question? Harry had seen you look sexy before, but it was never for him. Tonight though, you’d come here looking drop dead gorgeous, playing for his attention, and you ask if he likes it? If he said that didn’t make his heart do a somersault, he was lying through his teeth. Not that he would admit this to you. You were just playing a game...Thankfully, games he could do.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, his voice getting somehow lower than before.

He spun you around so your chests were together, and you looked into his eyes. Their usual warm brown was already darkening, and the glint you saw in them made your panties wet. “Why don’t we go somewhere I can show you how much I like it?”

A smile grew on your lips despite yourself, and you nodded, biting your lip to suppress the grin just a little bit.

----

Harry barely had you through his hotel room door before he was pushing you against the wall. One hand was on the back of your neck, the other dead bolted the door as he crashed his lips into yours. His body pressed against you, your chests moving together as you breathed each other in. He smelled of beer and something musky that you’d always attributed to being him. The familiarity comforted you and sent your heart racing, but that might have been from Harry’s wandering hands.

“This is a new dress isn’t it?” he mumbled in between kisses.

You nodded, “I bought it just for tonight. Just for you to take off.”

Harry moaned at your answer. He wanted nothing more than to rip the dress off you, but he didn’t want the night to end that quickly, not when you were in his arms again, and certainly not when you looked like this.

“Such a naughty girl…” He murmured before his tongue licked along your bottom lip, asking you to open. You gladly let him in as he slotted his knee between your legs, pressing against your core. Sparks erupted in your belly as you melted into the feeling of him all over your body, your arms encircling his neck, one of your hands finding his hair, the other pulling him closer.

Lost in the moment, tongues exploring each other, you almost missed the way his thumb caressed your jaw in the heat of it all. The gentle touch shot to your core, and your hips involuntarily thrust against Harry’s thigh, a little whine coming from the back of your throat.

You felt Harry smirk into the next few kisses as he slid his thigh back and forth underneath you, making you whimper as he gave you the friction you wanted.

Both his hands dropped to your legs, traveling up and under your dress until they stopped at your ass, massaging and squeezing as his leg kept moving against you.

He broke away from the kiss to look at you grinding on his leg, his own cock hardening at the sight. Your head was thrown back against the wall, lipstick starting to smear over your swollen lips, and eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building in your stomach, “Fuck. Look at you in this dress, riding my leg, making a mess of it.” He said softly, licking his lips as he thought about tasting you. Oh god did he want to taste you. He wanted to fucking eat you, make you squirm and come all over his mouth.

He felt your legs starting to quiver, and he leaned forward, kissing and nipping his teeth up your neck until he reached your ear where his voice whispered, “You’re already close aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” You gasped, unable to say much else as the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Go on then, lemme see you fall apart on my thigh.” Harry said as he kissed along your jaw, his mouth swallowing your moans as he reconnected your lips  just as you came. 

Even as the pleasure flooded your system, you knew it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more. 

“Harry,” you breathed into his lips, his hands beginning to roam your body again, finding the zipper on your dress and tugging.

“Mmm?” He hummed as his lips moved to your shoulder, sucking at the soft skin while his hands slid the dress straps off your shoulders. The dress pooled at your feet, and all that covered you now were Harry’s arms and the flimsy lace thong already ruined by the night's activities. 

“I want you,” You said. The ache was building in your cunt again as you tugged on the hem of his shirt, wanting to get rid of all his clothes so you could actually fuck.

“Needy tonight, huh?” He teased as he pulled away, letting you remove his shirt. He stopped you as you made to undo his pants, his hand covering yours. You looked up at him, your mouth forming a pout, but he only smirked in response saying, “Not yet.”

He led you backwards towards the bed until your legs hit the edge.

“Gonna give you the attention you asked for.” 

He said this casually, but the look in his dark eyes made your breath hitch. You had really only aimed for a good energetic fuck, but it seemed you might have sparked something deeper tonight. 

Harry told you to get on the bed, so you crawled up to its head and watched as Harry climbed after you, situating himself between your legs. His hands smoothed their way up your thighs, and found the band of your panties and pulled.

Once they were gone, Harry groaned at the sight of you. You were fucking divine, every part of you. He kissed the inside of your knee and slowly, methodically began kissing his way towards your center until he reached your throbbing core.

He kissed gently around your clit, frustrating you until you whined, “Harry, come on.”

“So impatient,” Harry chuckled, and you could feel his warm breath on your folds, hovering right where you needed him. 

You were about to whine again when you felt his tongue dash out, lapping at your clit. You jolted at the feeling, your hand immediately flying to his hair, wanting to secure him to the spot, make sure he wouldn’t stop. 

As if he could have stopped...Once Harry tasted you, there was no going back. He hummed with pleasure, and licked at your folds again. He licked from your entrance to your clit, tasting your sweetness on his tongue, and began to swirl his thick muscle around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, savoring every whimper and cry of his name he heard you utter as he ate you. 

It was embarrassing how quickly you were reaching your climax again having had barely any control with the first one. Something about the way he was moaning almost reverently, murmuring praises about how good you tasted, and how beautiful you were was sending you flying to your next orgasm.

“So close, Har,” You mumbled.

“I know.” Harry hummed into your core. He could feel you getting closer as you tightened your grip on his hair. It was almost painful how tightly you held him, but the pride of how fast you were rising and the sheer hotness of you chanting his name had him licking and sucking like he’d starve without you. It wasn’t long before you came all over his tongue and chin.

A proud smirk curled over Harry’s glistening lips when he finally let go of your clit. You watched him move up your body, never losing eye contact until he was hovering over you, licking his lips absently. You barely gave him time to wipe the come from his chin when you pulled him down into a searing kiss. He met your lips and matched the passion with which you were kissing him.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, and you felt yourself clench around nothing. You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him in you. You wanted to feel every part of him inside you. You wanted his chest pressed against yours and your legs to be wrapped around his body as he ruined you for tomorrow. It was why you had come out tonight, and you were going to feel him, every inch, every vein.

Your hands made their way to his pants, and this time he let you pull them down. His cock sprang free, erect and already leaking, making you even more aware of how empty your pussy was. You immediately went to pump it, but Harry caught your hand before you could.

“‘M not gonna last at all if you do that.” He said breathlessly, removing his pants all the way.

“Then fuck me already,” You answered back with a quick but pointed kiss.

“Gladly,” He said, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he lined himself up with your entrance.

A deep moan came from both of you as Harry pushed in, barely slowing as he bottomed out. You breathed an ok, letting him know you were ready, and he started thrusting lightly into you, but you both needed more and the pace quickened.

The sounds of skin on skin filled the room as Harry slammed into you, his own panting and moans mixing with yours in an off-kilter duet.

“Fuck, Y/n/n, you feel so good.” Harry muttered into your neck.

You barely managed more than his name in answer before your words turned into a cry of pleasure when he shifted your leg just enough to find your g-spot, hitting it over and over and over again. 

All you could feel was Harry, all you could think about was Harry and the way he made you feel. It was all too much to process, and something you didn’t want to process as your high raced to its peak, so you let your pleasure drown it out, getting lost in each thrust of his cock.

Your hands pressed him closer as your nails dragged down his back, no doubt leaving a mark in their wake. That did nothing but drive Harry closer to his own edge, but he wasn’t sure what was sending him faster, the sex or the stupid complicated feelings that were beginning to course through his veins right now.

Having you this close, thinking about you coming here to see him, and the way you were saying his name...It all felt like a jumbled mess of thoughts, and he didn’t know why...No, he knew why, but he wasn’t gonna think about it…

He changed positions one more time, finding an even deeper route through your slick walls as he hammered into you. Both of you moaned in unison, and your walls fluttered around him--a telling sign you were reaching your climax. He was so close himself, the knot just waiting to snap. 

Harry leaned down and kissed your neck, before panting softly, “Come with me, Y/n.”

You hummed and nodded, too far gone to answer with words, and together white hot pleasure explode and rushed through your bodies. Your lips once again found each other as you rode out your orgasms.

When you were finally too sensitive to take anymore, you gently pushed Harry away. He stilled his movements, but didn’t immediately move away, hesitating. It was so tempting to just roll onto his side, taking you with him so you could continue cuddling, but he knew that’s not how this worked between the two of you. You teased each other, kissed, fucked, and left. Falling asleep was certainly a possibility, but you were always gone before he woke. Always making sure what happened in the night, stayed in the night.

Harry looked at your face, absolutely fucked out, with a soft smile playing on your lips as you lazily blink back up at him. He returned the smile, before sweetly kissing your cheek and carefully getting up to grab a warm washcloth.

The cool of the room engulfed you when his body left yours, making you cringe at both the loss of him and his warmth, but you were entirely too tired to care. Even when Harry was back, and you felt him gently cleaning you up, you were already half way asleep, thoughts of him moving in and out of your consciousness.

He was so good at making you feel good. He knew you like the back of his hand. How had you gotten so lucky? You weren’t sure, and frankly you didn’t want to question it. You weren’t going to complicate what you had when it was going so well. Clearly, your gamble had paid off tonight, but it meant nothing--Well not nothing. This was one of the hottest hookups you’d ever had with Harry. You smiled to yourself at the thought. You might just have to do something like this again if it got Harry this riled up.

When the bed to your right dipped down, and you heard the covers shuffle and slid over you, you instinctively turned towards his warm body, nuzzling into his chest and sighing with complete contentment ready to sleep a few hours before finding your way back to your own bed.

Surprised, Harry didn’t immediately wrap his arms around you. He wasn’t sure if he should, knowing full well they’d be empty again in the morning. 

But you won. You always did. If he was going to keep doing this with you, not knowing when he’d have you in his arms next, then he was going to take every chance he had to hold you close. Besides, you were still one of his best friends and a fellow crewman on set. He’d see you tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that. An empty bed in the morning didn’t need to mean anything...

At least that’s what he kept telling himself when he felt you stir later that night and get up, giving him your habitual goodbye kiss on the cheek. And it’s what he told himself when he heard the sharp click of the hotel door closing, his hands automatically grabbing the other pillow to hug. And it’s what he told himself the next day when he saw you flirting with another guy on set while your eyes flicked to him and winked.

Yeah. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. So why couldn’t he stop himself from falling for you. Because he was, and it was turning into a deep, disastrous love.

----

tagging some moots that might enjoy... (you can always let me know if you don’t wanna be tagged ☺️)

@harryhollandsgirlfriend @cocoamoonmalfoy @greenorangevioletgrass @violetlilysunshine @thsquad @hazofmyheart @hollandsmushroom

[heliads]

Touch-starved

Based on this request: “after getting close to the reader before the Orpheum through writing sessions and such and hating the fact that they “couldn’t touch”... well now that Julie freed them from Caleb... it’s game over now and Luke uses every chance he gets to express his love for y/n.”

masterlist

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs pulled up around your chest. A never ending stream of tears leaks from your eyes, and you stare unseeingly at your feet. It’s over now, isn’t it? Luke is gone, and there’s no coming back from this. Not ever.

You had thought that he might be coming back just once, when Julie walked out onto the stage of the Orpheum. You think you might have been one of the only people in the audience to see the red rims of her eyes, and realize that she would be alone for that performance. Had the boys crossed over already? You never even got the chance to say goodbye.

Then they had appeared, bursting into existence on the stage in time to the music. Luke had been there too, and you’d watched with bated breath as he flickered in and out of sight before finally making it through, away from whatever was holding him back to stay decisively with his band. You had allowed yourself a sigh of relief, the hope that he might have finally completed his unfinished business and be allowed to stay with you.

Even the thought of Luke makes you break out into a fresh wave of sobs. How long had it been since you had met him? Two weeks? Three? It didn’t really matter- it still wasn’t enough time. He had burst into your world in a splash of color and music, bringing with him endless memories and good times. At first, he’d been mainly concerned with your best friend, Julie, but after he realized your skill at songwriting, he started dropping by your house too.

Then ten minute writing sessions became half an hour, and you started visiting Julie’s studio to hear Luke play and offer advice. They became more frequent, a part of your life that you grew to depend on just like food or drink. You became close friends, and then even that wasn’t enough for the two of you. You’d look up from your notebook to see a pair of warm brown eyes hurriedly glancing away, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. You’d stare at the way his hair fell in his face and the curve of his hand as he pushed it away. You knew it when time seemed to pass far faster with him than anywhere else, or when all your songs seemed to be about him. You knew then that you loved him.

You were afraid to say anything about it, too terrified to lose those golden hours in the brightly lit studio and dark, star-studded nights. When he first told you that he loved you too, you weren’t sure what to say. Could it ever be true that Luke, this boy full of sunshine and overwhelming happiness, would ever fall for a girl like you? Yet it was, and you loved him all the more for it.

Like it or not, there was always something hovering in the corner of your mind every time his hand brushed over yours just to pass through it, or when you turned to see Luke staring at your lips, knowing that there was nothing he could do. In the end, Luke was a ghost and you were human. No amount of love could change that, although the two of you certainly gave it your best try.

But none of that mattered now, did it? You’d take a thousand missed kisses, a hundred lingering stares just to have him back. You had looked up when the boys disappeared after their final bow, and seen the look on Julie’s face. The two of you had locked eyes, and that one stare communicated a thousand words and pains, all saying the same thing. They’re gone. They won’t come back, not this time.

You knew that if you were a good friend, you would have gone to talk to Julie after her concert, but you just couldn’t bear it. You did talk to her, technically, you gave her a hurried hug and brief exclamations of pride over her performance. You both knew it was only superficial, like if you focused on the songs themselves you wouldn’t have to think about the fact that the boys were truly gone from you. She understood, and she had pulled you tight one last time before you disappeared, both of you mourning silently for the bandmates never to be seen again.

You had driven home silently, flying up the stairs and closing your bedroom door behind you with a click. Only then, with the door firmly shut and with yourself finally alone did you let the tears come. They washed over you in waves, racking your body in sobs. You missed Luke, missed him more than everything. You’ve never loved anyone like you love Luke. Loved Luke. Now he’s gone, and you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with yourself.

So you sit alone, crying your heart out. The tears have subsided a little bit. Gone are the loud sobs, replaced instead by inaudible agony. In a way, the silence hurts even more. There’s a sound behind you, the click of your window sliding open. You don’t bother to turn around, speaking to the person with your back facing them. “I’m sorry, Julie, but I really can’t talk right now.” You continue nursing your tissue box, but freeze when you hear a new voice instead.

“I’m not Julie, Y/N.” Your eyes widen, and you whirl around to see him. Luke. Can it really be Luke? You stand up hesitantly, your knees buckling. In the back of your mind you realize you must be a mess, with your teary eyes and everything, but none of that matters. The only thing that’s worth a fragment of your time is the fact that the boy you love is here, and walking towards you. “Luke?”

He smiles. “Guilty as charged. Oh, and I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve.” You frown at him, confused, and then he reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Stunned into silence, you return the embrace, burying your face against his shoulder. Your hands clasp around his back, and it takes everything in you to just stand there.

After a moment that seems more like a year, he leans away, tracing your cheek gently with his hands to wipe away your tears. “You don’t have to cry anymore, Y/N. I’m here. I promise.” You shake your head slowly in bewilderment. “How is this possible? I mean, you’re here, and I can-” You break off, unable to think about anything more than his hand on your cheek, your palm pressed up against the curve of his back.

Luke smiles slightly, the corners of his mouth sliding up. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m here with you, and that’s more than I can ask for.” He looks at you for a moment, then leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. You feel your heart race in your chest, and kiss him back.

After that, you feel like you’re on top of the world. You have Luke, even when it seemed like you’d never see him again. You find yourself making excuses to drop by the studio and feel his kiss on your cheek, to walk home with him, hands linked together, to do anything and everything with him.

On one of these days, you’re stretched out on the faded sofa in Julie’s studio, brow furrowed as you study your math notes. There’s a test tomorrow, and you’d be a lot more miserable were it not for the fact that your legs are draped across Luke’s lap, his hand tracing idle patterns into your skin as he considers his battered songwriting notebook.

Luke must feel your gaze lingering on him, because he looks up with a grin. “Hey, I know I’m good-looking and everything, but I think you should be focusing more on your math. That’s what you said you needed to do, isn’t it?” You feel your cheeks burning and roll your eyes, pretending to be unaffected. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If anything, I should go study somewhere else so I don’t have to be distracted by your, uh, hideousness.”

Luke laughs, the sound ringing like a bell in the empty studio. “My hideousness?” You nod. “Yes. I know it can be hard to hear, but-” Luke leans forward, cutting you off with a kiss. He pulls away, noting the blush spreading about your cheeks with a grin. “You still sure about that?” You huff in irritation and look away, but can’t help a grin.

It is a frigid November afternoon, and a walk through the neighbourhood on the way to Julie’s house has only made you even colder. Rubbing your arms in an attempt to keep warm, you open the studio doors and slip inside, where it’s not much better than the outdoors. You don’t see anyone inside, so it looks like you’ll be waiting for at least a little longer. 

You glance around, hoping to see a blanket or something to keep you warm, but your eyes fall instead on a flannel jacket. It’s brown and soft, tossed casually across a chair. Nobody’s here, and you’re absolutely freezing, so you put your backpack down on the ground, picking up the jacket and sliding your arms into it. The flannel is warm, and you wrap it around yourself, breathing in the familiar scent.

You’re only in the studio for a few moments longer when Luke poofs into the room. He spies you and grins, heading towards you with a flurry of conversation. “There you are, Y/N! I was hoping you’d drop by. Alex and Julie just came up with this amazing idea for a song, it’s got a good melody but I know you’d come up with some killer lyrics if you heard it, and-”

His words die off as he comes to a stop in front of you. “Is that my jacket?” You glance up at him, then back at the flannel still wrapped around you. Your hands fly to the sleeves, and you start to tug it off. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. It was really cold, and it was the closest thing and-” Luke’s hands cover yours, stopping you from removing the coat. “No, it’s fine.”

He grins at you. “Looks good on you.” His hands leave yours, traveling up to rest instead on the curve of your hips as he pulls you close to him. Your hands thread in the soft curls of his hair as he kisses you. You’re beginning to think that you could stay here forever, but then you hear the faint sounds of commotion drifting up from the area outside the studio doors, and Luke groans softly.

“That’s the boys.” You pull away, laughing at the disappointed look on his face. “They’re your friends, try not to look so sad about it.” Luke reaches for your hands again, slowly running his thumb against the curves of your wrist. You shiver slightly, although this time it has nothing to do with the cold. Alex and Reggie are getting closer to the studio, so Luke presses one last kiss to your forehead before it’s too late. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave so I can walk you home?” He mumbles against your cheek, and you nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. This moment, right here, so close to Luke? You wouldn’t trade it for anything, and you know right then that you’ll be in love with him forever, as long as he stays by your side and you stay by his. Forever sounds good to you.

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>