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cherrysoojins · 1 year

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💌 𓂂 ⟢ 🕸️ ♡ ☎️

SPIDERMAN ! smau.

one. ch. 1 ! what to do when she texts? (but you can’t talk to her normally)

being spider-man comes with a lot advantages, but those advantages can have their disadvantages. like jung wooyoung not being able to show up to study groups to be able to see the girl he’s crushing on big-time.

— please revert back to ( master list ) for warnings !

jung wooyoung knew how to talk to people, don’t get him wrong. in the case of MBTI, the first letter definitely started with an “E” for extrovert.

especially as your friendly neighborhood spiderman, he had to put himself out there at least a little bit.

“hey there!”

“how ya’ doing today?”

and a little bit of, “hey! since i’m spiderman can i get a lick of that ice cream bar?” to random little kids who were walking with their parents. he never got a bite of the ice cream, but he sure as hell got a stomp to his foot by an older woman in high heels.

so much for being their damn hero.

nonetheless, he knew how to talk to people. put him in front of a random person he’s never spoke with before, in or outside of the spiderman suit, and he could talk to them for many hours on end, even if he was the only one really doing the talking.

he could do that to any person in the city of seoul, or even outside.

except for one person.

you.

instead of a random person, put him in front of you and suddenly he’s a middle school boy realizing pretty girls actually do exist and they aren’t just a figment of his imagination.

he can still remember his first time bumping into you. a red, blushing mess who stumbled over his words just at the sight of you as he helped you pick up your textbooks because his shoulder roughly slammed into yours, causing you to drop them.

it was his spiderman-ly sense of duty to immediately bend down and help you out, but the second he looked up to utter an, “i’m sorry” it definitely came out as something like, “i’m, oh my god, sorry.” if he remembers correctly. and if choi san was true to his word and did overhear him say that, and wasn’t lying to make him feel even more embarrassed about his first encounter with you, then yeah. he was pretty sure he said something like that. which in hindsight, could definitely be played off as he felt really bad to anyone without context (you, who smiled and accepted his apology, brushing it off in the sweetest way ever).

but if you had context, you would realize the struggle he had taking his eyes off you and how his mind took one hundred million pictures of just your face alone so he could remember it and a recording in his head of your sweet, soft voice saved into “the best sounds ever” files in the front of his mind in second place.

the first best sound is when someone calls him handsome, but your voice extremely close behind that one!

he also tries really hard to remember the soft feeling of your hands brushing against his and the smell of caramel radiating off of you.

point is, he can not talk to you like he can talk to anyone else. he absolutely cannot formulate a proper sentence without at least slipping a cuss word in there because his own thoughts cloud over what he actually wants to say (which is you’re so freaking pretty and have the best personality known to man-kind and he has this insane, school-boy crush on you even though he hardly knows you, but that’s whatever) whenever he sees or communicates with you and he has to hold himself back.

this sort of thing doesn’t only happen in person either, no. it’s clear when he is perched on the roof after doing his city patrol and saving a cat from getting eaten by a dog while thinking about you because you loved cats so much, your family even ran a cat rescue center, and then his phone vibrates with a message.

jung wooyoung can talk to people. even more so text, he can most certainly text. he types everything he would say to the persons face, and it’s a habitual thing, especially when choi san is your best friend.

but he knew that one day, that habit will somehow fuck something up.

now he’s done it.

and now that’s he’s done it, there is unfortunately only one option left in this god forsaken world that could help him.

choi san.

now, there were two ways you would answer.

“oh…”

or,

“sorry did i disturb you? you don’t have to answer if you’re busy, we can talk later! or not at all if you don’t want to!”

or both, either way, that’s a bingo for him for guessing.

but god, were you the sweetest person on earth. especially to wooyoung, who you hardly even know and this is probably just the way you text and talk to people you don’t know, he guarantees you’re different with your actual friends, but for goodness of all cats well being you acted like such a saint and he loved every minute of it.

except when he made stupid texting mistakes and made you feel bad.

he was wearing his underwear. he needed some luck on patrol today.

jung wooyoung can talk to people, he really can.

but talking to you was like asking him to join the avengers. it takes time.

💌 tag list — @luvvvlyjoong , @92dzgf , @yeomingis , @hwasboyfie , @wooyoluvrr , @shingsoluvely , @jaerisdiction

send an ask or a private message to be added or removed from the tag list ! if your name is red and bolded, it means you may have some settings on that will not allow me to tag you! & as always, if i missed your tag, let me know!

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riallasheng · 2 years

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Fragments

Just a small surviving fragment of a very OLD fic (like nearly 25 years old) that I had fun rereading and figured I’d quick post ^^ It’s actually a fragment from my ‘As the Wyrm Turns’ fic, just for chapter 4ish.

Under the readmore cause it’s fairly long.

Events from the comics are in this fragment, and a passing reference to Agent 21, a special agent of the comics (and in my canon Penny’s father) is present too… The comics used to be more widely known and read in the late 90s when I wrote this ^^;; TV Century 21 (1967) Story Eight: Issues 110-117 The Trapped Spy: where-in on Apr 14th-15th 2067: Agent 39 (Paul Metcalfe in this verse) of the World Government steals state secrets from Bereznik, but is trapped in a cave while trying to escape, the World Government sets up a false emergency where the President of Bereznik’s daughter is trapped in a buiding to force IR to rescue the spy. Schnannigins follow and the end result is both the President’s daughter and the spy are rescued, the head of Bereznik’s Secret Police is killed by Scott, and Scott destroys the documents to stop the World Government from doing this again… and Lady Penelope Story Five: Issues 37 – 42 Down Under: where-in on Sept 24th - Oct 5th 2066: Penelope and Parker stumble upon a plot by a Bereznik General with aspirations of becoming the new Bereznik President. The General has hundreds of missiles that he plans to use to blow up all the capital cities of the world. He temporarily holds Penny captive, but Scott is called in by Parker to the rescue. The General is stopped, but destroys the base / evidence and flees… only to be shot down by Scott

“I must admit… This is not a mission I anticipated taking. I thought you and White took us on as pilots, not as on the ground agents.”

Conrad raised an eyebrow, lips quirking slightly. “Oh? You know what the mission is then? When Colonel White hasn’t even called the two of us in?”

Juliette sighed and shoved at her fiancé’s hip with one stockinged foot – as if the co-founder and Second in Command was not fully aware of the mission and had not been listening in on the radio call she had just received! – before ducking down to kneel beside the bed, reaching under it with a grumble as she tried to fish out her boots.

How had they ended up UNDER the bed, anyway? She distinctly remembered tossing them up against the wall near the door, where she’d be able to pull them on quickly once she got back into her flight suit, and-

She paused, then leaned back to sit on her heels, eying Conrad.

Who just raised both eyebrows, his expression one of perfectly innocent befuddlement.

…ruined, of course, by the way his grey-brown eyes danced, and the way he pressed his lips ever so slightly together to keep even a hint of a smile from showing.

“Conrad… Mon cher…”

“Yes, Juliette?”

“…WHY did you throw my boots under the bed?”

“Your boots are under the bed? Why ever would they be there?”

Juliette smacked Conrad’s knee, making the limb jump and the man wince.

“Ah… well, I suppose I deserve that.” He got of the bed and knelt down beside her, laying down on his side and stretching out to grab the boots and pull them out. “Sorry, love. I went to grab our dessert while you slept, and stumbled over them as I returned and… well, my plan – such as it was at one am while balancing a platter of ice cream – was to kick them aside. …My aim was better than I realized, as they sailed under the bed so smoothly, they failed to wake you.”

Juliette shook her head. “We really must work on that quick temper of yours, mon cher, before it is the end of you.”

Conrad chuckled. “If my end comes from accidently kicking the boots of my true love under the bed, it will be an end I meet laughing.”

Juliette smiled and got up, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her boots on over her flight suit before getting to her feet and giving the toe of each a tap on the floor to settle them properly. Conrad sighed and got to his feet as well, walking over to where his own uniform was waiting. “I must admit… I find it worrying that you are aware of a deployment apparently before our CINCSPEC. If our security is that thin-”

Juliette smiled. “It is not that our security is thin, it is simply…” she sighed and shrugged. “Agent 50 is one of the best spies in the world, if not THE best.”

Conrad knew that, just as well as Juliette did. Both of them were certain Lady Penelope had ‘cased the joint’ without anyone the wiser… no matter that Cloudbase was 40,000 feet above the Earth’s surface with the only way in or out being carefully screened aircraft. Lady Penelope might have been Conrad and Juliette’s friend, a friend and co-FAB agent to Shaka, and a friend, co-FAB Agent, and her father mentor to Dianne; but that simply made it MORE likely that Penelope would have been sneaking about and discovering all she could, not less. Both to test them, and to ensure that they would be safe here.

“I’m worried,” Juliette admitted quietly. “Agent 50 has been in bad situations before, but she rarely feels that it is not something she can handle, and I cannot think of a time she was willing to call in aid from the World Government rather than the FAB, local governments under the guise of a rich socialite… or International Rescue, no matter her claims to not be part of their organization.”

“Given that what she said they were dealing with… International Rescue likely is not an option this time… although to be frank, I do wonder how long it will be before International Rescue decides to act anyway. I know she said that she would sort the matter out, but-”

“I wonder if we could just inform them they would need to have a communications black-out to respond and request International Rescue not to send ‘Rescue One’ on this mission-?” Juliette wondered aloud.

“No,” Conrad said firmly as he pulled his vest on, zipping it up and giving the black body-armor a tug to settle it properly, then sat down on the bed to pull his own boots on. “I’m certain that’s not an option on Rescue one if nothing else. Every mission International Rescue has taken into Bereznik has been one that has Thunderbird One flying alongside Thunderbird Two as escort, and Rescue One has been present every time a mission has even the slightest hint of someone, or something, from that country showing up. …half the time only Rescue One showing up and no one else! Remember the mission Agent 50 told us about in Australia, last September?”

Juliette sighed, shoulders slumping. “So, if International Rescue gets involved, it is a certainty that we would be dealing with Rescue One.”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?” Conrad shrugged at Juliette’s raised eyebrow. “You must admit Rescue One is highly skilled and quite… decisive. That is something we likely will need, if what Agent 50 thinks is true.”

“Decisive,” Juliette sighed. “You would call it that.”

“And what would you call it?”

“Terrifying.”

Conrad blinked, surprised.

“Mon cher, Rescue One has a reputation that is…” Juliette walked over and began to make the bed, Conrad coming over and helping her without a word. “It is… frightening. Especially for the Commander of a Rescue Operation. He is as ruthless as I am, and while that is a good trait for one in a career such as I choose, for a rescue operation…”

“It is painfully obvious that the man prefers saving lives to ending them. Everyone I know who has had direct interactions with him speaks highly of the man, even Paul does, despite the mess that was his rescue in Bereznik this April.”

Juliette nodded. “I know. …but during that rescue, Rescue One killed Colonel Tobolsk – killed the head of Bereznik’s Secret Police and Second in Command of the country! – with a high-powered missile to the man’s chest.”

“Fired while rescuing one of his team members who’d been imprisoned at Tobolsk’s complex while the Colonel tried to stage an assassination of President-General Benenora – an assassination attempt that Rescue One had prevented before going to get Rescue Four out of Tobolsk’s building,” Conrad pointed out. “There is a reason Benenora never raised a fuss about his Second being killed or Paul being rescued from that cave-in. Granted, the man probably as happy about Tobolsk’s death as he is his daughter being saved. But no matter what, International Rescue is the only organization that has full fly-over clearance, and he gave them permission to rescue the trapped spy – despite Paul having data on the regime.”

Juliette frowned, and sat down on the bed.

Conrad tilted his head and sat beside her. “What is it?”

“Rescue One destroyed the data that Paul… that Agent 39 risked his life to procure. He stopped ‘President’ Benenora from being killed. He killed Tobolsk. He risked his life, personally, to save Donella Katania Benenora… who became the new head of Secret Police just a month later.”

“I do wonder if she’s going to REMAIN such,” Conrad muttered, frowning faintly. “I ran into her a few times in the War, when she was a Blue Beret for the World Army. She was an honorable woman, if blind to what her father – her country and government – were doing. I can’t see her staying where she is for long.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Maybe I should talk to White, see about getting a word or two into the right ears so we can give her an… option… if she decides to do what… what I would expect from someone like I met.”

Juliet smiled. “We already have a Blue, and I doubt you could convince Adam to give up that designation, mon cher.”

Conrad smirked. “Marine is available.”

Juliet shook her head, her smile fading as she brought the conversation back on topic. “There is also the issue that last year Rescue One killed that General – one of the highest ranked in Bereznik, who was all but certain to oust Benenora as President-General – who was fleeing the Australia base Agent 50 destroyed.”

“Agent 50 said she requested that, especially after the General destroyed the mountain base and all the evidence of Bereznik’s attempt to destroy Unity City and multiple other capital cities,” Conrad pointed out.

“I know. I just… What if he is-”

“Rescue One a Bereznik sympathizer? Or worse, part of their… government?” Conrad frowned faintly, then leaned back, arms crossed and staring at the ceiling as he considered that. “It’s… possible. But I don’t think that is the case. Paul said Rescue One destroyed the data he had stolen to force the World Security Council to never use International Rescue again, not to try to protect Bereznik secrets, and Paul is a damned good judge of character and motivations.” He sighed and ran a hand though his hair. “…and that was something that was both effective and – much as I hate to admit it – necessary. The W.S.C.’s call to CREATE a rescue situation to try and force International Rescue to save Paul… to save Agent 39… was a damn stupid one, and if International Rescue hadn’t done what they did-”

“The Council would have done it again. A hundred times over. A guaranteed way of rescuing our personnel from hostile situations?” Juliette shook her head and muttered a few curses in French.

Conrad nodded. “Plus, there is the fact that Agent 50 trusts him and speaks highly of him. I can’t see her being fooled – if only because she’s worked alongside Dianne and Shaka, and she has worked beside both myself and YOU, my love, and I can’t see all of us being fooled.”

Juliette sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “That is true. …but then why her determination to ensure International Rescue did not respond to this?”

“It could simply be due to… the situation. The same reason that you and I are about to be called in by Colonel White to be sent off to Bereznik to aid Agent 50. With what we are likely to be finding there, the Thunderbirds and their other machines might actually be a hinderance or worse… especially if what some of what Green has speculated about their communications is accurate. This is a matter that we dealt with, personally and effectively, before. We were, to put it bluntly, a winning team and it makes sense to send in a near certain solution than trying to change things up.” He shrugged. “Adding International Rescue to the mix would be-”

“Less than optimal?” Juliette asked.

“There’s an understatement.” He sighed and got to his feet, pulling his cap on and offering a hand to Juliette, pulling her to her feet and into a quick hug. “You and I both know that Agent 50 will be on this mission… be it officially or not. We can ask her for her reasoning and opinions when we get to Bereznik.”

“That is tr-”

*“Destiny Angel. Captain Black. Report to Command.”*

Conrad and Juliette met each other’s gaze, then nodded.

“Spectrum is Green, CINCSPEC.”

#captain scarlet #fanfiction #thunderbirds #Lady Penelope #conrad turner | Captain Black #Juliette Pontoin | Destiny Angel

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joonbh · 3 months

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#kamea 20 #kamea 20 exfoliating foot cream

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cosmocutis · 6 months

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Healthy Feet, Happy Summer: Bellonia Moisturizing Foot Crack Cream

As the warmth of summer approaches, our feet eagerly anticipate the freedom of sandals and barefoot walks on the beach. However, this joyous season quickly becomes uncomfortable for many due to dryness, cracked heels, corns, and fungal infections. But fear not, because Bellonia Moisturizing Foot Crack Cream is here to rescue your feet and ensure a summer filled with comfort and confidence.

Dryness and cracked heels are not only unsightly but can also be incredibly painful. Bellonia Moisturizing Foot Crack Cream is formulated with nourishing ingredients designed to deeply hydrate and repair even the driest and most damaged skin. Enriched with emollients like Urea, glycolic acid, and shea butter, this cream restores moisture, leaving your feet feeling soft, smooth, and rejuvenated.

Corns, those pesky patches of hardened skin, make every step uncomfortable. Bellonia Moisturizing Foot Crack Cream contains gentle exfoliating agents like urea and salicylic acid, which help to soften and remove corns, revealing healthier, smoother skin underneath. Say goodbye to the discomfort of corn and hello to walking on air.

Fungal infections, such as athlete's foot, thrive in warm, moist environments, making summer the perfect breeding ground. Bellonia Moisturizing Foot Crack Cream includes antifungal ingredients, which work together to combat fungal growth and prevent infections, keeping your feet fresh and healthy all summer.

With Bellonia Moisturizing Foot Crack Cream, you can step into summer with confidence, knowing that your feet are well cared for and ready to take on any adventure. Say goodbye to dryness, cracked heels, corns, and fungal infections, and hello to healthy, happy feet. Embrace the joy of summer, one step at a time.

#footmoisturizingcream #foot cream #foot care #footcrackcream

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dermaessentia · 8 months

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The Ultimate Guide to Moisturizing Foot Creams

In the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, our feet often bear the brunt of the load. Whether it's the long hours on our feet, the relentless pounding of pavements, or the exposure to harsh weather conditions, our feet deserve some pampering. The forgotten heroes of foot care are here: moisturising foot creams. The rest of this piece will examine the science underlying the softness and the art of happy feet as we explore the why, what, and how of these creams.

Why Moisturizing Foot Creams Matter:

Our feet endure a lot on a daily basis, from long hours of standing and walking to exposure to various environmental factors. Neglecting foot care can lead to dryness, calluses, and even painful cracks. This is where moisturizing foot creams come to the rescue. These creams are designed specifically to moisturise, nourish, and revitalise worn-out feet, leaving them feeling renewed and revitalised.

Key Ingredients to Look For:

Shea Butter: Shea butter is well-known for its rich, creamy texture and for providing intense hydration and skin elasticity.

Aloe Vera: Soothing and cooling, aloe vera helps relieve irritation and inflammation while providing intense hydration.

Tea Tree Oil: Tea tree oil helps fight fungal infections and odours thanks to its antimicrobial qualities.

Peppermint Oil: Offers a refreshing sensation and helps alleviate aches and pains.

Glycerin: An effective humectant that draws and holds moisture to keep your feet feeling smooth and soft.

Choosing the Right Moisturizing Foot Cream:

When selecting a foot cream, consider your specific needs. If you want to treat your cracked heels thoroughly, a thicker, more emollient cream is a better option. For daily maintenance, a lighter formula may be more suitable. Always check for hypoallergenic options if you have sensitive skin.

How to Use Moisturizing Foot Cream Effectively:

Cleanse: To start, wash your feet with a light soap to get rid of any debris or pollutants.

Exfoliate: To encourage greater product absorption and remove dead skin cells, scrub your feet.

Apply: Generously apply the moisturizing foot cream, focusing on dry areas and massaging it into the skin.

Cover: For an extra boost, wear socks overnight to allow the cream to penetrate deeply.

Take Away

Investing in a quality moisturizing foot cream is a small yet significant step towards self-care. With the right ingredients and a consistent routine, you can achieve silky-smooth, happy feet that will carry you through life's adventures. Treat your feet well, and they'll thank you every step of the way!

FAQs

Q. How to apply foot cream?

Ans. To apply foot cream effectively, start with clean, dry feet. Take a generous amount of cream and massage it into your feet, focusing on dry or calloused areas. For an extra boost, wear socks after application to enhance absorption. Make this a nightly ritual for softer, more supple feet.

Q. What does foot cream do?

Ans. Foot cream hydrates and nourishes the skin on your feet, preventing dryness, cracks, and calluses. It often contains ingredients like shea butter, aloe vera, and essential oils to soothe, moisturize, and rejuvenate tired feet.

#moisturizing foot cream #moisturizer cream for foot #best foot moisturizer cream

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blxckchxrrybxby · 3 years

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Unprecedented [Pt.2]

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader x Wilhemina Venable

Warning(s): Smut.

A/N: I went rogue with this. I’m crying because you guys liked the first part. I love you all so much. Also I feel like there’s not many stories with a y/n who acts more similar to Venable. That’s why I’m here.

Word count: 4,163

Pt.1 Pt.3

Thursday.

The wind blew the chimes and the rain poured oh so heavily on Thursday.

Classes were canceled since everyone fell a bit behind on studies yesterday, but that was to be expected. The carpets reeked of spilled vodka and rum seeped into the floor boards.

The Supreme was still very livid.

Her heels clicked speedily down the stairs as she made her way to Venable’s office.

No one had ever been allowed to step foot in there unless it was Delia. You didn’t know how you felt about this, but you also refused to bring it up as a problem. You always did have a bad habit of ruining good things.

Perhaps Mina just needed her own environment that was not trudged on by others. Maybe Cordelia was only allowed in there because she was the fucking Supreme and no one could refuse her presence; not even Wilhemina. Either way, you weren’t allowed in and you weren’t going to make a fuss about it now.

“I just… I can’t believe them! How immature could they possibly be?!”

Wilhemina slowly lifted her gaze up from the pile of news clippings on her desk to observe the furious witch entering. Her slender fingers removed the glasses perched delicately on her nose as she straightened up her posture (as much as she could); leaning back into her chair. To witness her lover in such an angry state almost… amused her. She wondered if she could pull that kind of emotion out of her. From the thought alone, a rather sadistic smirk etched itself on her lips. Cordelia refilled the sitting woman’s mug as the smell of coffee entranced her senses. Wilhemina’s amusement transformed into admiration.

“We leave for a counsel meeting and this is what happens?!”

She watched in splendor as Cordelia moved to pour herself a bit of tea then followed with two sugar cubes— all the while, still fuming. Today she seemed as fiery as the redhead’s locks.

“Oh! And my carpet! Don’t even get me started on my precious Persian wool that now reeks of alcohol!” Mina blinked in response. She was still trying to recall the moment that she granted the Supreme permission into her office.

And just like she remembered— she didn’t.

With an all-too-calm demeanor, Mina reached for her mug. In which Cordelia abruptly halted her venting and popped the woman’s gloved hand. Wilhemina gasped at her girlfriend’s action, as her left hand came to the rescue and soothed her right. “Oh don’t be dramatic, darling. That wouldn’t have hurt a fly.” Wilhemina’s expression shifted into a squint. Her? The dramatic one?

Delia quickly removed the mug from the desk and brought it over to her tea tray. “Sugar? Cream?” She called out, perching herself on one of Mina’s favorite armchairs. The woman in purple merely stared at the witch; still utterly caught off guard by her range of emotions. Within two seconds, Cordelia had come to her own conclusion.

“Sugar it is.”

Mina couldn’t help but to massage her temple and let out a soft chuckle at Delia’s antics. Sometimes the woman was so unpredictable. As she rearranged some of the clippings on her desk, she missed the part when Cordelia slipped a powdery substance into the mug. By now, she could tell when her lover’s back was giving her hell by her strained posture. The Supreme then added more sugar to the black liquid in hopes of accommodating for the bitterness of Mina’s medication. She made sure to crush up the pill prior to entering the room.

Once the mug was returned back to the oak desk, Mina smirked at her lover and took a cautious sip. The last thing she needed was a burnt tongue. Cordelia propped herself up on the wooden mass, facing Wilhemina, and enjoyed her tea. The sound of rain battered the windows and spread a gloomy hue throughout the room. The fireplace crackled softly and for once, it was if all the elements of the world had come together to comfort the two women instead of torture them.

It had always amazed the Supreme how two people could grow up so… neglected, yet find a way to love one another. Granted, it’s taken many tries and failures, but… they made it work. Whenever the world became too much, it was as if they could detach from it together. All was calm and peaceful, and if anyone were to ask them if they needed anything else to fulfill their lives, they’d say they had already found it within each other… but then came you. You were the setting sun between their day and night.

Before Cordelia could fully zone out, a soft grasp to her thigh brought her back to reality. For the first time today Wilhemina was going to speak.

“As much as I would delight in witnessing you punish each and every girl who attended that inconceivable party last night, I think their inadequacies have caught up to them-“

Delia frowned, ready to interrupt, “Whose side are you-“

Now it was Venable’s turn to administer an infliction. She smacked the blonde’s thigh; promptly hushing her, “Listen.”

Cordelia did as she was told— aching from how low and authoritative her lover’s voice became.

“What do you hear, Cordelia?”

Mina had made a point. The coven was eerily quiet. Most likely due to half the girls still being passed out drunk in their beds and the other half refusing to make a sound thanks to their hangovers.

“Hm. I suppose you’re right, Ms. Venable.”

“I’m always right.”

The witch smirked mischievously; setting down her teacup. Her hands laid flat against the desk as she shimmied over to center herself in front of her lover. Mina knew what this would lead to.

“Can I help you, Ms. Goode? You’re in the way of my work.”

The Supreme chuckled, slowly uncrossing her long legs, “You absolutely can.”

Mina placed her purple, ceramic mug down away from Cordelia. Supreme or not; she could be a clumsy mess. Following the dismissal of obstacles were her gloves. They slid off of her hands with ease as she stared into her lover’s lust filled eyes.

“In what way could I be of assistance?”

Cordelia’s heel hooked under the office chair’s arm, pulling the redhead forward.

“Like this.”

—

In contrast to the others, you didn’t drink much last night. Therefore, this particular morning was rather soothing for you. You had spent it outside, mindlessly swaying in a rocking chair on the porch. Your mind was completely overtaken by a book Mina had gifted to you a few months ago. Your attire consisted of sweatpants, your favorite top, and a cardigan.

There was something off about your mood this morning, but the inconsistency was small enough to ignore. No one knew you were out of bed and Cordelia was too busy in Venable’s office to notice you had slipped out. The weather was ghastly for most, but you happened to enjoy watching the wind blow the rain sideways. So much so that you were tempted to feel it on your own skin. Once you had enough of torturing yourself, you discarded your book and ran down the porch’s stairs into the rain.

The knitted cardigan slipped down from your shoulders onto the bend of your arms as you held your hands out. With your face tilted towards the sky, you exhaled indescribable emotions and inhaled serenity. Carefully, you propelled yourself from the ground; always hating the limitations of gravity. After all, that’s how you ended up here.

Unlike some of the other girls, you had already known what you were capable of prior to arriving at Robichaux. Levitation and clairvoyance came with ease. It didn’t take a spur of emotions from unsolicited confrontation for them to develop. It was actually the opposite.

You happened to be the eldest of far too many siblings; hence, the third parent. And since your own parents had you while they were young and didn’t take the time to mature themselves, you were head of the household; hence, the only parent. Plenty of trauma came along with having to mature at such a young age, but there was no time to cry about it. Emotions didn’t stand a chance in a household where there was rarely enough food to get by.

When tensions got high, you never lost your cool. In fact, you never played into it. To you, if the confrontation didn’t end in peace or an increase of money, it wasn’t worth your time. All of this to say, it wasn’t rare for you to walk away in the middle of arguments or detach from reality. A nightly levitation session would always ease your mind.

When you were brought here, it was more of an escape plan than a punishment. You had heard about the coven and thought it couldn’t be any worse than what your life already was. So, in the midst of your parents arguing, glass shattering, and too many internal voices to comprehend, you made your way outside into the rain and levitated. Mostly to clear your mind. Once the usual dysfunction had quieted down, you opened your eyes and returned back to the ground; meeting your family’s stunned faces. After they had witnessed you floating in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm, it was off to Robichaux you went.

Once you were done enjoying the rain, the soles of your feet slowly laid themselves against the ground.

“Aww, done so soon?”

Your eyes opened to find the swamp witch twirling next to you; just as drenched as you were. You let out a soft giggle as she pulled you into a hug. No one had admired your quirks as much as Misty. When you first arrived here, you had to admit that she slightly irritated you. She held a sense of carelessness that enraged something within you. Of course, once you realized it was simply the envy of what your inner child never got to be, well… she was quite alright with you.

“Good morning, Misty.” You said as you both shared a tight embrace. You knew you had heard her inner thoughts tweeting around in your mind before her presence was accounted for, yet you simply ignored them.

“I was just heading off to the greenhouse before I noticed you out here. Wanna join?”

You smiled softly, “Perhaps in a few. Let me go change first.”

She nodded with the biggest grin and parted ways as you made it back inside. You shivered at the contrast in temperature and walked towards the stairs before your mind focused on a particular voice. You were used to the constant buzzing of thoughts in your mind (and rarely spoke since it felt like added noise to an already loud environment) but this was different.

This was Cordelia.

It was rare for the Supreme to let you in. Typically, she kept her mind like Mina’s emotions; guarded and locked away. Your body turned away from the stairs before making its way towards Wilhemina’s office.

Please don’t stop…

Both eyebrows furrowed. Did she realize that she had let you in? Surely she’d feel your presence.

Right there… yes, yes, yes!

Your face reddened as you felt a distinct heat rise within you. Your hands laid flat against the office door before you built up enough courage to press your ear against it.

“…yes, baby. Right there-”

“When did you get this wet, Delia? Hm?”

You bit your lip as the voices of your lovers became abundantly clear. You could only imagine Delia propped up on a desk as Mina rammed into her. Then again, what if she wasn’t using a strap? Regardless, being in between the Supreme’s legs with her skirt bunched at the waist made the room— err, hallway that much hotter. For a moment there was silence. Suddenly, Cordelia’s raspy moans sounded just enough for you to hear.

Your thighs pressed together as the witch’s whimpers grew muffled. Perhaps Wilhemina was kissing her in the midst of finger fucking her? Maybe she stuck her fingers in the blonde’s mouth to quiet her? Who knew? Not being able to watch the two was torture for you. Not being included felt worse.

Little did you know, Cordelia felt your presence as soon as you came back inside. She knew opening up her mind would lure you in and craved for you just as much as Mina. With her mouth agape and legs spread open, Wilhemina devoured the Supreme. Cordelia bit her bottom lip hard in order to keep from being too loud; gaining anyone’s attention aside from your own. Her fingers grasped a handful of Mina’s blazing hair while moving her hips against the woman’s mouth.

No matter how tidy the blonde liked things, she always loved seeing Mina’s mouth glisten from her juices. The dripping mess aroused her even more. She’d always been the redhead’s preferred beverage… before you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The Supreme’s raspy voice broke off into a moan as Venable lifted her head; continuing to pump her fingers deep into her panting lover. The sound of her fingers slamming into Cordelia’s wetness over, and over, and over again could have easily brought you over the edge.

“Shhh, wouldn’t want to wake the others. How would they feel seeing their Supreme getting fucked with her legs wide open? Especially by Ms. Venable?”

The redhead was quickly met with a loud moan as her fingers fell victim to the witch’s contracting walls. Mina knew what she was doing. Although Delia loved her privacy, the idea of being caught always did something to her. It was as if Wilhemina was unraveling the goody (or should she say Goodey) two shoes, little by little. Her thumb rubbed fast, tight circles around Delia’s swollen clit; continuing to pump her fingers mercilessly. Despite the aching her arm would feel later, this was worth it.

“Yes, yes!! I’m almost—“

“Stop your blubbering and cum for daddy.”

With that, Wilhemina curved her fingers, directing the pressure against the Supreme’s Gspot. She relished in watching her lover’s legs shake uncontrollably on her desk, back arched, breasts revealed through her opened blouse, and her skin completely flushed. Her pussy contracted repeatedly around Mina’s fingers, spilling a slick creamy substance.

Without hesitance, you cracked opened the heavy door just enough to catch a glimpse of your Supreme with her swollen lips apart in pure ecstasy. The fire did little to light the rather dim room, but you could see her bare chest heaving. Her eyes were still closed. Venable kissed in between her thighs, before licking cum off of her fingers. You watched the dominant woman wipe the slick off her face as she settled back into her chair. As your eyes scanned back over to Cordelia, you were met with her doe eyes focused solely on you. With a smirk, she sat up and looked at Mina.

“Allow me to return the favor?”

Mina only smirked. Cordelia climbed off the desk and got on her knees. Her hands spread Mina’s legs apart, before pushing her skirt up.

“Mina, baby. You’re so wet.”

You could see the redhead flush a bit from the comment. In response, she rolled her eyes and glanced at the blonde, “You’re welcome. Now, do something about it.”

Cordelia smirked to herself and slipped two fingers underneath the cotton fabric keeping her away from her meal. With ease, she slid it over and propped one of Wilhemina’s legs on her shoulder. Her mouth instantly came into contact with her lover’s warm core; not wanting to waste any time. Wilhemina let out a gasp, gripping her right hand in Delia’s hair and her left on the arm of the chair. She tried her best to steady her breathing while watching the submissive woman hungrily eat her out. The sound of licking and sucking and moaning filled the room once more. Somewhere in between then and now, Mina’s hair had fallen loose. The sight made you weak. Sure you had witnessed her like this before, but she always took your breath away. You squirmed in your same spot as you enjoyed the show.

Mina stroked her fingers through Cordelia’s hair as the blonde made eye contact with her; tongue still flicking against the redhead’s clit feverishly.

“You’re doing so well-“ Mina stopped to moan, letting her eyes roll back slightly as the Supreme shoved two fingers into her, “Fuck, Delia. Tell me how much you love it.”

She removed her left hand from the arm of the chair and slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, one by one. Cordelia nodded obediently, sucking on Mina’s clit as she did so. This caused the redhead to buck her hips as her precious Delia smirked. With a soft pop, she removed her lips from her lover’s clit to speak.

“I love tasting you, daddy,” she purred. The dim light from the fireplace flickered across their radiant features as they stared at one another.

“Does daddy feed you well?” Mina questioned while letting her blouse fall open. Cordelia couldn’t help but to stare lustfully at the lace bra her lover wore. The same lace bra she despised for covering up another part of Wilhemina she so desperately wanted to taste. The Supreme slowly kissed her way up from Mina’s stomach to her cleavage; fingers still moving deep and slow inside of the seated woman. Mina’s chest rose and fell with anticipation as the blonde teasingly brushed her lips across her lover’s.

“Always.”

With that, Wilhemina gripped Cordelia’s throat; smashing their lips together. The Supreme fought for control, but per usual, Mina’s tongue dominated her mouth. After an intense make-out session, the witch submitted back to her knees. Venable’s hands returned back to rest on the arms of the chair as Cordelia’s head disappeared underneath her skirt. You watched as she slightly threw her head back and groaned.

They were both intoxicating in their own way. Mina’s eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She looked down, grasping enough of her skirt to reveal Cordelia’s face yet again. Her free hand tugged and yanked on the blonde’s hair as her hips slightly lifted and legs trembled.

“Ohh, keep going… yes-” she stopped to let out a moan, “don’t you fucking stop.”

Cordelia moaned, doing everything in her power to please the other woman. It wasn’t until Mina’s eyes found yours that her entire being fell apart. Her mouth fell open and face scrunched up. She gripped Cordelia’s hair, holding her as close to her pussy as she could; finally cumming onto the witch’s tongue. A mixture of groans and whimpers rang through your mind as you quickly backed away from the office.

You needed some fresh air and a moment to yourself. Making your way upstairs was a challenge considering how weak your legs felt. It was as if the world was spinning. You made it into your room and stripped of your clothes; quickly getting into the shower. Hopefully the water could soothe your mind and body.

When you emerged from your room for the second time that day, the Supreme stood there with her fist up— ready to knock.

“Oh!” She began, mostly out of shock. You jumped back from the sudden engagement and gradually arched your eyebrow. You weren’t typically the talking type. Your facial expressions communicated more than your words. She let out a chuckle and continued, “I see you’re awake. I was just debating on knocking or not.”

Awake? Of course you were awake. She had caught you watching her orgasm not too long ago. You stared up at her for a moment as your eyebrow relaxed back into its natural position.

“It looks like you chose to knock.” You replied sarcastically as you glanced at her fist that still remained in the air and watched as she quickly put it down, with a soft blush. How adorable could she be?

“That depends.” She stated with a smirk gracing her plump lips. Once it dawned on you that she had read your mind, you playfully nudged her arm and smiled.

“Hey, we agreed on no telepathy!”

Cordelia laughed softly and nodded, holding her hands up in defense, “okay, okay. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself and let you do the same.” She moved to the side, allowing you space to head towards the stairs as she joined you, “Although, I must admit… it’s so hard to resist when all you do is stay inside of that pretty little head of yours.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and (in an attempt to disregard the remark) chuckled at her, “Little? Have you seen my forehead?”

She smiled while following you into the kitchen, “How could I miss it when it’s my third favorite place to lay my lips?” Her eyes scanned down to your behind as you bent over to explore the fridge.

“Oh?” You questioned. With arms full of ingredients, you turned towards her. “And what about the other two places?”

Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, “Ask Mina.” You playfully squinted your eyes at her just as the woman in purple walked in.

“That’s Ms. Venable to you.”

You sat everything down on the counter and turned in time to witness the two women sharing a quick, yet intimate, kiss. Your head tilted a bit as you focused on the way the Supreme’s fingers held onto her lover’s plum blouse in an attempt to elongate the display of affection. Before you became accustomed to the two authoritative women, you’d never guess you’d see the day Wilhemina Venable would show an ounce of love to anything but her coffee cup. Let alone be lucky enough to experience it.

As their lips departed, you hungered to feel what Cordelia felt. You were still aroused by what you had witnessed earlier, and the shower did not help at all. The blonde’s eyes met yours once she pulled away from the redhaired woman. With a smirk she spoke, “it looks like someone wants a piece of Ms. Venable too.”

A great heat met your face as Mina turned around with her eyebrow arched. Her dark orbs met yours as she strode towards you with her cane tapping menacingly. She stopped in front of you, not allowing for any space to come between the two of you.

“Well, y/n? Take your piece. Or do I have to give it to you myself?”

Your core ached at the question, and before you knew it, your hands were gripping at the satin material, pulling the intimidating woman closer. Your lips molded with hers, moving in sync, as a hunger took over you. You knew she’d fuss over her lipstick being smeared, but you couldn’t care less. Her fragrance intoxicated you; engulfing your senses in lavender and warmth. Wilhemina let out a low groan as you nipped at her lips— your way of asking for more. She blindly sat her mug upon the counter then gripped your neck, pushing you away.

“You didn’t possibly think I’d let you have your way after last night, did you?”

A deep frown situated itself on your lips. The party. Is this what all of this was about? Some kind of cruel tease to punish you for being a part of something you didn’t even plan?

“I didn’t have any part of that. Sure, I drank some alcohol, but I told them not to throw it in the first place.” You stated while trying to pull the woman back against you.

“And that makes you what, exactly? Innocent?” She asked, leaning her face closer to yours. Your chest rose and fell similar to hers not too long ago. Just as you were sure she would close the gap between your lips, she moved away and went to sit.

You slowly frowned before letting out a scoff and massaged the bridge of your nose, “This is ridiculous.”

“Is that so?” Cordelia asked, chiming in. You bit your lip to hold your tongue. No matter the circumstance, she was still your Supreme and Wilhemina was your superior.

“May I be excused?”

“y/n, we’re in the middle of a conversation-” Cordelia started but you shook your head.

“No. We’re about to get into an argument and as much as I love being lectured, I’d prefer we skip that part.”

“This isn’t about preference. It’s about maturity.” Wilhemina stated.

“I’ve been mature since I was in diapers. I practically learned how to wipe my own ass, so don’t talk to me about maturity. If you need someone to belittle, go to Madison or some other girl, but do not start with me. I told them not to do it. No one listened. The end. Now, may I leave?”

They went silent for a moment before you politely excused yourself and made your way out of the kitchen. Maybe Misty could help you cool down.

#wilhemina venable x reader #cordelia goode x reader #wilhemina venable #Cordelia Goode x reader x Wilhemina Venable #Wilhemina Venable x reader x Cordelia Goode #cordelia goode #ahs coven #coven

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years

Text

Hot Chocolate (Birthday/Christmas Special)

Summary: Levi is bound to spend this birthday on his own, seeing that you're halfway across the globe as an exchange uni student. What he doesn't know though is that you have planned a huge surprise for him. NSFW 18+

Notes: sorry for any mistake you guyss please enjoy this

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: f l uff, nsfw

Warnings: nsfw, the sexies

Disclaimer: I do not own the gif, I simply found it on Pinterest.

White heavy cream fell fluidly out of the carton it was stored, squeezed by Levi's calloused hand and into the small metallic pot that he rested his other hand onto. The mixture, an aromatic, dark brown hot chocolate, lightened in color upon a few stirs of his tool. Slowly with his hand he disposed of the empty carton in the recycling bin, making sure to wipe any stray droplet of white on the counter.

He blinked as his mind went blank, forgetting the next step of the recipe but only momentarily. His thoughts once again traveled to what troubled him, but he continued with his stirring in fear of burning the beverage he was set on making. With his teeth sinking dangerously at the tip of his tongue what he needed clicked in his head. Corn flour. A quorter of a cup.

He didn't bother tasting the mixture as he lowered the fire of the stove to the minimum, he simply marched to the corner built in cupboard, hands searching furiously for the porcelain vase that held this oh so precious corn flour that would act as the stabilizing factor to his hot chocolate beverage.

Seconds later he brought the fire to an halt absurdly, never ceasing with his stirring careful as to not have the mixture stick to the pot. He didn't like his chocolate adorned with burnt flakes or the taste they brought to his mouth neither did he like cleaning the burnt pot before having to pop it in the washing machine. As his hands reached for the cups he had set beside the stove beforehand to his alchemy, he helped the thick mixture in with a spoon.

The cups were immediately transfered inside the over; an attempt to keep them from any predatory fly that could have entered the apartment before Levi had a chance to realise and in addition keeping them sheltered as they reached a drinkable temperature. Levi threw the pot into the sink next, sighing to himself as he grabbed his thick latex gloves and out them on his hands. With a twist of his hand at the handle the watered started running on his gloves hands pot making him grab his steel wool.

His hand came to his forehead, wiping some sweat as he sighed again, hanging his head low as he gritted his teeth in frustration. His eyes squinted in anger, his hands dug into the inox of his sink and his heart sink dangerously low as he felt the room run cold due to the sun quickly setting behind the horizon.

Why had he made that chocolate, it beat him. The two of you hadn't spoken in at least two days and he liked -or rather chose- to blame it on your busy studying schedule, rather than the fight the two of you had over that call two nights ago. He had been to angry to admit he was acting like a brat to you, he had been too proud to simply say that he wanted your attention, instead he had resolved his anger into grumpiness, causing your overworked mind to snap.

You were gone as an exchange student in Japan for too long and both your busy schedules and the enormous time difference had dug their ways into Levi's life very negatively. Before you he had never lonely when he was alone, but now, now that he had gotten a taste of what it was to be with you, now that you had been ripped away from him from so long, he definitely felt lonely. And angry. And it killed him that he was almost on time for your arranged video chat, when you didn't even show any sign of being in existence still.

It made his boil though, by now, it must have been the 26th in Japan and you had spent your day ignoring him, not even bothering to open his message. Had he been so cruel to you while admitting he wanted you here with him? Was it that you didn't have enough decency to let him you know you were alright? That was what he simply wanted to know, in the end.

Sighing again he ripped the gloves off his hands and grabbed his phone. His fingertip touching the button provided him immediate access to his homescreen and he quickly entered Instagram dragging the homepage down a couple of times to let it load any new activity. Internally he knew, he would have been glad if he was to see a story or a post by you, any sign that you were alright would do for him.

Of course, as if on cue to shake him of his miserable thoughts his phone rang, buzzing in his palm. His eyes fell on the small window the revealed the caller id to him. It was Erwin, naturally, as he always used to shower him with phone calls on his birthday even up until the moment he was at his front door. Levi didn't missed out on those signs of affection, it's was quite the opposite really. He cherished them deeply. Seeing how much of an impact he had on his friends' lives moved him whether he showed it or not.

And so, while holding back his saddened sigh he picked up the phone, greeting his friend through greeted teeth.

"Hey Levi, uhm, I kind of need you at the moment, am I interrupting anything?"

"No," Levi spoke, biting painfully on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hold himself back from sprinting out on his frustration. Of course Erwin could try and hide behind his finger, Levi knew that much. The blond was aware he wasn't interrupting anything, but he was still kind enough to ask; he always was sappily kind when it came to such sensitive subjects.

"Great look, I'm on route twenty two, fifth exit, I'm out of gas can you please come to my rescue and bring me some?" Erwin paused for a moment and then proceeded to mumble through an overly amused breath "I'm sorry I'm doing this to you tonight."

"Did you take your father's run down car again?" Levi questioned.

"No... yes. I'm sorry Levi I felt like I wanted to drive his car tonight. I shouldn't have to drag you here too, I'm sorry."

"No it's fine," Levi bit back, hissing at Erwin's unhealthy habit of wanting to drive his father's antique due to its sentimental worth. But then again, he reminded himself he wasn't in a place to judge. "Give me 15 and I'll be there."

Fidgeting his fingers on the counter without throwing a second look he came in contact with his car keys. The familiar jiggling sound gritted through the air proudly as Levi pierced his finger inside the key loop, finally pressing the keys steady to his palm. With another grunt, he hang up the phone, bringing the device to the palm of his hand once again.

His mind begged him to open his texts with you again -his initial goal ever since the moment he opened his phone- just to stare at the screen or at his unopened text, his insides begged to boil with concern at the process but he figured had all night to do so, prolonging his misery could definitely wait now that Erwin was in need. And thus he simply marched to the hanger behind his front door, eager much to quickly get a hold of his warmest jacket before having to step out in the cold apartment corridor and consequentially outside in the cold December weather.

___

You forced Hange to suppress her giggles as you slipped the metallic key inside the lock to your shared apartment with Levi. With an exaggerated jump though Hange let out another scream fill the air, ignoring yet another playful rasped gaze you consequentially threw her. Laughter bubbled from the both of you as you kept on locking eyes, amused by the upcoming execution of your plan.

The plan was simple really. You had Erwin call Levi for any emergency he could come up with and only when he left the house you and Hange would sneak in, light up the aromatic candles you spent weeks picking. You would make some hot buttered rum and light the fireplace to warm up the house. Then, Hange would leave right when Erwin would call you to announce that Levi was on his way back and you'd wait for him with the biggest smile on your face.

"Okay now let's see how much time we have." You said and rubbed your hands together to warm them up. Leaning with one hand over the wall you moved the heel of your left foot on top of your right one, pressing down enough so you could wiggle your foot out of the shoe. Doing the same for your other foot, you removed your jacket and hung it behind the door.

"Erwin said it will take Levi about twenty minutes to get to him, they shall spend about ten to fifteen minutes fueling his car, but he promised he'd try his best to delay Levi if we need to. And then add another ten minutes for him to get back." Hange spoke, fixing her glasses onto her nose.

"You think I have enough time to take a bath?"

Making sure to slip her shoes off after you, Hange nodded in your direction and proceeded to set her heavy backpack on the couch. One by one she took the candles and a lighter out, eventually smirking to herself as she tried to come up with a plan on how to neatly set them around the living room.

"Hange!" Can you put those in the bedroom?" You spoke, ripping your shirt off of you before your finger came to graze the side of your mouth as your mind sunk in your thoughts.

"Ha!" Hange huffed "as if you're even going to make it to the bedroom!"

Your cheeks burned as she spoke, eyes widening slightly at how your mind told you she was completely right. Of course you and Levi wouldn't make it to the bedroom at least until later tonight. It had been months since you had last seen him and it was his birthday, you wouldn't even be able to rip yourself off of his arms. Thus you simply threw a mellow smile at Hange as you sprint to the kitchen checking to see if you had all the ingredients you'd need to make your choice of drink.

Coincidentally, you opened the oven and your eyes immediately fell on what was inside. Your expression softened as two grey toned cups shone in your orbs, the smell they emitted deliciously filling your nostrils. You smiled to your self as you thought about how your lover didn't miss out on making your traditional Christmas drink.

It was unbelievable how kind hearted Levi was, in contrary to what people thought of him, you thought. Most of the times -and simply because he didn't allow otherwise- the only thing people who weren't close to him saw was a cold demeanor, a sharp tongue and a foul mouth. It all would be too ironic if they knew how Levi was behind closed doors. Taking notice of small everyday details, sticking to his beloved routine, cherishing moments with his loved ones, remembering everything most people would ignore about others and showing his love in the sweetest yet most Levi way were only a few of his virtues.

Of course he wouldn't miss on making your favorite strawberry scented thick hot chocolate, even if you had spent the last few days not speaking to him, even if as of now he remained ignorant as to why. You assumed he believe it was about that ridiculous fight and you could admit you purposefully riled him just enough for him not to expect to see you. You were sure, seeing he had shown a previous liking in surprises like this, that his jaw would hit the floor when he'd see you.

Guilt rushed through you at the thought of you making him feel miserable even in the slightest, but Hange couldn't just have you standing there, sulking in your anxiety over how things had led up to this moment. If you wanted to make it in time for when Levi came home you'd have to rush. Hange insisted on shooing you out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, urging you to act fast, before Levi came. Sensing she was right, you settled for running to retrieve a new pair of underwear and a clean towel before jumping in the shower.

Stretching your arms to close the curtain behind you as you stepped on the white marble tiles you twisted the faucet handle to the right, letting a deep sigh escape from the depths of your chest as the hot water started running.

___

The sound of keys jiggling together filled what should have been an empty apartment, making Levi's arrival known only to you who stood inside the kitchen. He stepped inside a few seconds later, ripping his shoes off of his feet before slipping into his fuzzy slippers.

His hands immediately reached for the wipes and rubbing alcohol he kept on a stand right next to the door, silently grabbing a wipe and coating it in the strong smelling disinfectant before bringing it to his phone and keys. He spent a good minute cleaning the items meticulously only stopping when he felt satisfied to set them on the stand. He took a step to turn around with his goal to walk to the kitchen and heat up his got chocolate. Judging by the time he could still try to reach out to you before the day ended.

With a quick glance around the room, though he found himself freezing in his spot.

"Great, now I'm so shit mad I'm seeing fucking things." Levi announced -seemingly only to his own self- the moment he laid his gray orbs upon you.

"No Levi, you're not seeing things baby."

Standing up for your seat on the kitchen table you shot him an adorning look; your eyes squinted and your cheeks puffed up, coated in a sheer scarlett color. You silently watched as his eyes grew impossibly wide, flickering between you and each lit candle that showered the room in plenty of romantic golden light.

His legs were slightly trembling, his knees going weak at the sudden need to intake all of what was unraveling before him, but with his heart hammering in his whole body he only managed to part his lips before even beginning to thing if what to utter.

"Merry Christmas and happy birthday my Vee." You smiled again, mouthing the tooth rotting sweet nickname as you walked to him with open arms and a longing look on your face.

He wasted no time, even if his head was starting to buzz in confusion and uncertainty, he bucked in his stand before sprinting towards you. His hands quickly wrapped under your bum, lifting you up on him while prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. With painfully squinted eyes his nose nuzzled up between your neck and your chest, inhaling your magnetising aura sharply as he span you around. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, embracing his head in a loving manner as you couldn't supress your bubbling giggles.

His strong grip on you wasn't ceasing, not even for a moment as he began mouthing his questions; he didn't even care that his voice was muffled by your own form.

"How- I mean when?" He spoke and only hugged you tigher onto him.

"Well, you thought I'd ever miss this day?" You placed a kiss on the top of his hairline. "I was supposed to be here days ago but my flight got delayed, so Erwin and and Hange came up with this surprise plan."

Levi's hands loosened their grip on you slowly was you tried to slide down his body carefully; this breathtaking moment could only ever last for so long, Levi figured as he set you down. Kissing you was the next task he assigned to himself, but it could only happen after he got a good look at your face.

God, he had missed you so much.

So many months had passed since the last time he had been graced with seeing you this close to him and in the moment what he was witnessing almost felt too unreal. Your tender eyes looked into his with adoration and warmth, your chest dwelled with tainted breaths as your hands slowly came to cup his sharp face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't responding at all, I really had to leave to go to the airport after that silly fight we had, I couldn't just tell you I was coming." You said and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Although I was really temped to."

Levi wrapped his arms around you again and hugged you to his chest- this time he missed on levitating you if the ground, even more fiercely than he had done before. He simply huffed in amusement in the crook of your neck, mouthing a sole 'thank you' against you.

The next kiss you shared was maniac and passionate in nature. His lips didn't just graze over yours, the engulfed them. He sucked onto your tender flesh as if his life depended on it and you couldn't get enough. You found yourself grabbing his shirt, then running your hands through the short spiky hair of his undercut.

His slick hands cupped your own face as he pulled back only to catch his breath for a moment.

"I've missed you much I can't even be patient to talk with you."

"Me too" you announced, a hazed look masking your face.

You took a few leading steps to the couch, careful not to disturb the candles in the corners of the coffee table that before it, much afraid of setting everything on fire in your despairate state to have him. Your mouth launched feverishly onto his as you threw him onto the gray sofa.

Levi didn't fight it, not even for a moment. His tongue shoved inside your mouth, rolling around yours, slurping and cherishing each corner of your mouth as he took small intakes of breath through his nose from time to time. His tender hands loosened their grip on the sides of your face, the action eliciting a small whine from your occupied mouth but to was quickly gulped down by the movement of his lips that came to suck on your tongue.

You felt his fingertips travel down your clothed body, skillfully sinking underneath your shirt before restlessly traveling back up taking the cloth away with them. You only broke away from each other for a singular moment, breaths hitching and tinting the air around you, so much that you could almost ignore the way your heart sped it's throbbing in your ears. His hips bucked longingly int you from underneath, the friction already driving you crazy.

As his hands shoved longingly inside your pants you let another moan slip from the depths of your throat, though it was guickly muffled by your lover's mouth attaching on yours , making you melt into him. You felt his fingers graze ever so slightly over your still clothed crotch, painfully flicking their way through your flesh.

Roughly, he pulled back, detaching his want body away from yours while fixing his gray eyes into you. He didn't bother speaking as he tagged at the sides of his shirt, ripping the article of clothing away from him in such quick movements, as if it was the only thing getting in his way from getting close to you.

With hanger widening his eyes he stared at you again, prompting you to put your hands into him, to feel him all the while he run his hands into your form. He failed in exploring your body as he had wished though, with a shagged breath he only managed to bring you close, in a proximity that didn't even allow a kiss to be exchanged. You simply nuzzled into the crook of his bare neck, rubbing the tip of your nose in calm circles against him as you breathed hot huffs of air onto his skin.

His back was still so muscular and ripped despite his skin being so overly smooth under your tender touch, the more small trails you rubbed over him the more he sighed in greed and over exaggerated longing. Licking his lips with a constipated look on his face, he placed a tender kiss on your collarbone before traveling back up, just to teasingly rub his bottom lip over yours.

Breaking the kiss you grabbed his hand, bringing his palm close you your face. You teasingly picked his pointer finger, making sure to scratch the inside of his hand with your nails as you brought the digit to your mouth. His mouth, running ahead of his own desire to stay quiet, blurted lewd moans at your soft suckling and with all blood boiling in his body he was unable to even think about chocking down on his sounds.

He was on his back before he even knew it. It seemed like squirming was the way to go now, right underneath you as you placed kisses all over his chest and torso. With slow hands you reached for his pants, fidgeting with his zipper and buttons before wiggling your arms inside the dark denim.

Quickly, any remaining article of clothing was discharged thrown anywhere on the floor; you could worry about that later but right now you couldn't seem to be able to pay attention on anything else than each other. You had missed him, he had missed you, there was only so much that the two of you could process momentarily.

It was the high of the moment mixed with your scent that pulled him even even more as you craddled him to your chest while never ceasing the bobbing of your hips. The kisses that he sucked in you, sped up the beating of your heart against his as soft skin mingled with your own. Even that was painful to him, the extend to which he had missed you didn't leave any space for him to pull just an inch away from you, as if he wouldn't ever be able to get enough.

"My Levi, I've missed you so much." You spoke with hitched breaths, lips grazing his earlobe ever so slightly.

Levi allowed him self to eventually grunt in response letting harsh huffs of air through his nostrils while trying to guide your hips to an alt.

"Keep talking like that and I'm not going to last." He spoke, his fingering digging into your thighs to put an halt to your movements.

It didn't work -he should have known it wouldn't work- because you only slid down on him longingly and fast, sending his mind in the familiar pre orgasmic haze he so wished to momentarily be freed from.

"Who said," you paused only for another tainted moan to slip outside your lips "I want you to last?" You placed a kiss on the skin behind his ear, careful not to suck and create any loud noise that close to his eardrum.

Levi only threw his head back, his hips starting to work onto a hard, quick rhythm against you. He trembled under your words and every deep thrust, every feel of your insides on his throbbing length was only contributing to the build up in his abdomen.

He hair, sweaty as it was, stuck on his forehead as it dripped, but you paid no mind in his salty taste as you kissed your way all over his forehead and cheeks, nose and jawline, trailing your tongue on any sharp edge of him.

Your legs were shaking now and much to your best wishes you struggled with your thrusting onto him. You only managed to gyrate your hips, earning another moan of him as you ceased your movements, sweat dripping off of your own forehead as if mimicking his antics.

His hands nearly slipped from your thighs as wet as they were but he managed to get the message you were trying to convey; with jaded breaths he started thrusting maniacally from underneath you, damaging through you as pleasure dueled in both your bodies.

Yearning splashed all over his face and his grunts only got louder. Your foreheads collided as you cupped his face, noses nuzzling up, eyes staring deep into eachother.

Gentle. His ultimate indulge into you was gentle and earth shattering at the same time. His veins popped in white hot pleasure and his chest boiled with numerous erotic moans as his abdomen screamed throughout him, leaving him with barely enough time to mechanically reach just to pull out. His head hung low onto your collarbone while his head throbbed, unable to come down from his high just yet. He couldn't even move his eyes to see you, although he knew by listening to your panted breaths that you were in the same position as him.

Pushing him back to lay down on the couch, you kissed all over his face for the thousandth time tonight.

"I'd never ever miss this important day, you know." You smiled, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose.

"It's not that special, brat" he spoke shyly as he cooed into your face rubbing his upper lip to your cheek. You recognised the action; it was a habit of his to coo in such way, any overly soft thing grazing his top lip indulged him in endless calmness and you hummed to yourself in amusement to the feeling.

"I missed you."

"I know. You said that." He huffed, his lips puckering to hide the playful demeanor behind his next words. "But I don't think I heard it right, mind repeating it?" His fingers trapped your nose between them and swayed your head from side to side before moving to your naked back to press you closer to him him once again.

"You're such a tease. I love you Levi."

"I love you too," He blurred with eyes that burned into yours and proceeded to place a sweet kiss onto your sweat drenched hair "so much, you brat."

Taglist go off: @ackermans-freedom-inc @hawkssnugget @berrijam @levisbrat25 @nobody-knows-anymore @callmepromise

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi #levi ackerman imagine #levi snk #levi attack on titan #snk x reader #snk #AoT #aot x reader #snk imagines #levi imagine #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #Attack on Titan Imagine #attack on titan #aot season 4 #snk season 4

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icaruskeyartist · 3 years

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“I know what you are.” His voice is hushed, serious, and he’s looking down, past my eyes and towards my lips.

At least, I hope it’s my lips because if he’s looking at my boobs, this entire conversation is going very differently from expected.

“Tell me then. I want to hear you say it.” It’s almost ridiculous how much taller he is than me. I know I’m pouting; my lower jaw is tense and when I bite my lip back into place, the sting of it is almost enough to break me from my bad mood. It’s really hard to take things seriously when you’re almost breaking your neck to look at someone as he confesses learning your deepest secret.

“You’re a vampire.” Edward’s eyes flickered over my face, fear and awe clear. If only he knew just how badly I wanted inside his mind.

Vampires don’t have a very good handle on their emotions. It takes practice to blend in with humans, practice that I have plenty of. But he’d followed me out hunting. I’m thirsty. That’s my excuse for what for losing it, shoving Edward back hard enough I could feel a rib crack under my hand.

“You’re a moron,” I said, getting into his space faster than he could react, swiping his legs out from under him. Edward landed with a grunt on his ass, and I planted a muddy boot in the middle of that pristine cream sweater, shoving him into the leaf litter of the forest. “Following me out here, unveiling my secret like it’s what, some sort of romantic gesture? I’m a predator Edward. I could kill you here without breaking a sweat.” Literally, but that’s not in keeping with the saying.

“You won’t.” Edward is watching me, his breathing shorter, more pained, but he’s making a good effort to not show his pain. He hadn’t even moved his hands to try and pry my foot off his chest. “You’re a good person.”

I ground my foot down, shoving my heel purposefully into that broken rib. “I am not a person. You’re clearly infatuated with me. Like... like those stupid videos of baby ducks following cats around. You mistake tolerance for love when everything about me is supposed to draw you in. You should be afraid.”

“If that’s how it is, I accept it.” Oh dear lord, he was suicidal. I’d had my share of these idiots before. Usually it took a couple scares to set them right, or I at least had an easy, if not very delicious meal. But this was the first time I was both so drawn to a person and couldn’t read their thoughts. Edward had no idea how unique he was.

I shoved him with the foot that’d originally been pinning him down. “You’re lucky I’m trying to go green for my meals.” Fucking coven rules. “I’m leaving. Call yourself a search and rescue team. There’s reception here.”

“I’ll see you in class?” he asked, and I made a face at that hopeful, sappy look on his face. You’re supposed to be hard to read man! Work to save yourself at least a little!

“Probably.” I spun on my heels to take off, putting enough distance between the two of us that I could no longer smell that cloying cinnamon scent of his blood. Fuck! I probably should’ve just killed him. It’d be easier than this.

#twilight fanfiction #twilight knock off #yeah so in addition to all my other writing I guess I'm doing this

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xbunnybunz · 4 years

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The terrible, you. (2/5) [Wolf Keum x Reader]

Summary: After Wolf Keum unwittingly rescues you from seedy men in the dead of night, he can't shake you from his side. After a while, he's not sure if he wants to.

Genres: Romance

Date: June 16, 2020

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Wolf Keum did not consider himself a man of mild temper or endless patience. Even before his enrollment in Ganghak High School, his name was written in the books beside a blaring caution sign, touting him the district's most feral and impulsive brawler.

When he set foot into school as the new student who had beat the shit out of the fucker, Forrest Lee, he was unsurprised to find that a target was slapped onto his back by not only Hyeongshin students, but Ganghak seniors as well. It amused Wolf that seniors would find him to be a threat, given they had been cocky enough to publicly announce a week before his arrival that they would beat his ass bloody.

Though it was his ferocity and adrenaline that made him the hottest topic of Yeongduengpo, he was by no means dull.

Wolf didn’t often pride himself on wit or dexterity, but he had more than a few tricks up his sleeve to get him out of a pinch. This is why, on his first day at Ganghak, he expected there to be no less than seven people ready to jump him in front of his class. This is also why, before the end of the first bell, he had managed to disband the entirety of the menagerie with nothing but a single punch.

The psychology of hierarchy was a heap of bullshit, but it was still incredibly effective for someone who wanted to inflict fear. Pinpointing the overzealous ringleader had been easy enough, but knocking out five of his teeth in the middle of his obnoxious “lecture” was even easier.

Wolf remained unflinching when the body hit the floor, the silence that followed the sickening crack was deafening enough to hear the pearly molars clattering across the tiled floor. When he walked into his classroom, Wolf was acutely aware of all the people in the room, as well as the other six delinquents, pissing their panties. He knew he was safe for the remainder of his school year, but “safe” was not the game he liked to play.

The rest of the day was a hunting game.

Unbeknownst to them, Wolf Keum did not spare people. He was a natural predator, and he enjoyed every moment of the chase. He stalked, waited and pounced whenever the opportunity arose, and this time he didn’t stop swinging until he could mop the floor with their blood. When the last bell rung, he had made his way through the list three separate times. He relished in their wide-eyed terror, enjoying each time his bruised knuckles connected with an already-askew nose, blood seeping through the bandages- savoring feeling of the old reign crumbling under his cruel pursuit.

Rumors spread like wildfire, and soon everyone knew that Wolf Keum had hung seven of the strongest Ganghak seniors up to dry… Thrice.

He was keenly aware that this was why people often avoided him, but he was indifferent. The natural order of things had been set straight, and he was satisfied with keeping insects under his heel no matter how they begged, pleaded, or kissed his ass.

This is the reason why, when you appeared at Wolf Keum’s side for the very first time, every student at Ganghak High school flew into chaotic disarray.

The girls of Ganghak sat with their white knuckles pressed harshly against their lips, some praying for your safety while others silently cheer you on from the sidelines- also occasionally stopping to make sure they had a first aid kit nearby.

The boys couldn’t believe their eyes when a girl came strolling into the male wing of the school, a small pink plastic bag in hand. They became even further bewildered when you had parted your lips, blush dusting your cheeks, and dared to ask for audience with Ganghak High School’s wild card, Wolf Keum.

Wolf wasn’t as surprised by your appearance as he was entertained. He had recognized your uniform from the night before, but he didn’t think you would seek him out, let alone attempt to thank him.

Especially because it wasn’t his intention to help you.

Still, fate had dealt him his hand. He watched your form, bowed at the waist and offering up a single packaged cream puff.

He spent little time wondering how you knew his preferred snack down to the brand, and instead observed how strangely steady your hands were. From his seat he saw your still form, showing none of the tremors he was used to seeing from men twice your height and build in his presence. His eyes flickered back over to you.

It was impossible that you didn’t know of him, since you had so endearingly called him “Wolfy” the night before. And yet you had voluntarily walked into his den, finding not only him, but the some of the most intimidating students in Ganghak as well.

Did you not realize how absolutely fucked you were if he gave the word?

“Yo.”

You looked up at him, and Wolf met your stare with his own blasé gaze.

He crossed one leg over the other and leaned in close enough to see his own reflection in your eyes.

“What is this?”

Wolf hears you gulp, and watches your eyelashes flutter as you stutter for an answer.

“S-sorry, I hope you don’t think it’s weird. A wrapper fell out of your pocket yesterday after… You know…” You trailed off, and your eyes darted about, cheeks darkening.

While you were conflicted about admitting that Wolf had saved you in front of his followers, Wolf was silently wrapping his mind around why you had stuttered when you spoke.

In the meanwhile, all of Wolf Keum’s lackeys allowed their thoughts to wander. All of them exchanged incredulous, bug-eyed glances at the idea that Wolf Keum had somehow gotten busy yesterday after kicking the shit out of the Hyeongshin kids.

“I just wanted to see you again.”

Wolf felt the heat emanating from your face, saw your eyes darting skyward, down at the floor, anywhere and everywhere but at him.

He leaned back.

See him again?

A coy smile played on his lips; his eyes still upturned with delight. It wasn’t as if he had a shortage of shuttles at his beck and heed, but there was something so damn absurd about someone waiting on him of their own accord- something so fucking hilarious about someone seeking him out and bearing their defenseless, gullible mug to him of their own volition, and for some blasphemous reason, he liked it.

He plucked the pastry from your fingers and allowed electricity to spark where his skin made contact with yours. He watched, pleased, as you startle and bounce back up from your bowed position, eyes glimmering, cheeks pink and nerves frazzled.

Wolf let a lascivious smirk cross his lips and peered at you through his bottom lashes, knowing exactly what it was you came here for.

“...I’ll enjoy it.”

Your face broke into a wide grin, heat climbing up to your ears and seeping into the back of your neck.

“Thank you! I really hope you do!” You bow again and scamper off, throwing back one last glance at Wolf before escaping from his den, unscathed. He watches as you vanish behind the door; the cream puff wrapper crinkled quietly, seeming a lot smaller in his hand than yours.

Wolf Keum was not known for tolerating nuisances or humoring outlandish requests, he knew this just as well as the several gape-mouthed fuckers at his side. But true to his capricious nature, he was an individual heavily swayed by his instincts. And right now, the buzz in his fingertips where he brushed your skin stirred an endless abyss in his gut, strumming his wild and impulsive heart- demanding more, needing more.

You would be back. He knew it.

The hunt was on.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum x reader #wolf keum #fanfiction #reader insert #the terrible you

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eirabach · 4 years

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Playing Fair [1/1]

For Day 3 of @pen-and-ink-week-2020! Prompt: precious. This is what I call ‘smut adjacent’ in that there’s nothing outright filthy here but there are certain insinuations so you probably don’t want this open around your boss or your nan, capiche? Excellent. Onward!

There isn’t often time for this.

Not between rescues and royal premieres, not with four brothers and two fathers and a dog and a Parker lingering around every corner and threatening to pop, fully formed and wide eyed, from any given comm unit at any given moment.

They’re used to -- well. Making the most of the odd moments given to them, that’s all. And it isn’t that she’s complaining, not at all, not for a moment, but although contorting herself in the back of a Thunderbird at 60 fathoms deep brings its own particular thrill, there’s really something to be said for a very large bed with a very soft duvet and the company of a very willing man with a very willing mouth.

Too willing, possibly.

“I didn’t think you were being literal.”

Gordon’s mouth curls into a grin, and he nips at the skin of her ankle. She jumps, shoving at his shoulder with the foot he isn’t holding.

“I’m a very literal kinda guy.” He shifts infinitesimally higher, drops another open mouthed kiss to the inside of her calf. “Plus, I’ve been waiting like -- forever to do this, okay? Let me work.”

Penelope groans and throws her arm over her face. “You’ve been waiting forever. To kiss my leg.”

“Not just your leg.”

She huffs into her elbow, wraps her free leg around his shoulders and digs her heel in.

“You genuinely intend to kiss me all over? Won’t that get tiresome.”

He grins up at her, flutters his lashes like the absolute terror that he is. “Oh I think I can handle it.”

“I didn’t mean for you.”

“Aw.” He pouts, and she digs her heel in harder. “Is her Ladyship not getting her own way?”

"Don't make me beg. I won't do it you know."

She can feel his laugh chase the tip of his tongue along the hollow behind her knee. "Oh really?"

"Oh really. Countless nefarious types have tried, darling."

He shifts his weight, his hand at her hip, and she tucks her arm behind her head. Glares down at him as he rests his chin on her thigh and flutters his eyelashes at her.

"Bet they're not as nefarious as me."

"I shall get up and leave in a minute."

Gordon pouts, drops his cheek against her hip bone and walks his fingers up until she's practically shaking with frustrated desire and just sheer frustration.

"Aw don't spoil my fun, Pen. Look --" He jumps up, dropping her leg as he does so, and leans forward to rest his fingertips against her ribs. She pouts back at him, but his grin only gets wider. “I can stop?”

“I didn’t say -- hey!” She squirms as he runs his nails lightly over the dip of her waist. “Oh! No, that’s unfair you know I’m ticklish!”

“Do I?” He stops, catching hold of a flailing arm, and presses a kiss to the inside of her elbow. “See, I don’t know that I did know that. Was it in the papers? An expose on Lady Penelope’s deepest, darkest secrets?”

She huffs, settling back into the mattress as he kisses down her forearm. “Hardly.”

“Good.” He pauses his ministrations to turn her hand palm up in his own, and traces her life line with the tip of his ring finger. “Know why?”

He runs his finger around her palm in little circles, eyebrows drawn tight as though the action requires every ounce of his concentration and her breath catches in her throat.

“Not the foggiest,” she murmurs as his mouth follows his fingers and creeps up toward the thin skin of her wrist. “Shall you tell me, or am I to suffer this torture in silence?”

His laugh is a soft breeze across sensitive skin. “You think this is torture?”

“I may be being facetious.”

“I may not know what that means.”

“Gordon.”

“Yes?” The kiss he drops to her wrist is hot and open mouthed, the hint of tongue a cruel little tease that she would protest if she could.

“What are you doing this for?”

He shrugs one shoulder before dropping her wrist to nose at her collarbone.

“Do you know when I fell in love with you?”

“Not precisely.” His teeth graze the hollow of her throat and she digs her heel in tighter.

“Me neither.” It’s a confession made against the rise of her breast, chased by the tip of a tongue against sensitive flesh. “Only -- god. God, Penny. Do you have any idea how long I’ve --”

He groans against her belly button as she winds her hand into his hair. A little victory.

“You’ve got a freckle.” He rubs the pad of his thumb against the edge of her hip bone. “Right here. Did you know?”

She says nothing, only shakes her head, because he’s kissing her with purpose now, hands coming up under her knees and pushing them apart, breath hot against damp skin, and she tightens her grip until she feels him shudder.

“God but you’re perfect.” It’s a whisper, less than that, something she feels more than hears, her blood hot and his mouth hotter. And she doesn’t want to ask -- not now, not when he’s finally -- finally --

The bastard looks up, grins.

That bastard.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I’m not finished yet.” He’s grinning up at her like the cat that got the cream, calloused fingers stroking the ticklish spots behind her knees. “Are you ticklish here too? You look kinda unhappy, should I stop? Maybe here?” He traces his fingers up, up, only to stop to draw patterns into the juncture of hip and thigh. “What do you think?”

Penelope takes a deep breath. Smiles.

“I think you’ve forgotten something.”

“Oh?” He taps his lips, smug and sweetly unsuspecting. “I can’t possibly --”

It’s easy. Only a twist, the arch of a back, the flinging of her weight to one side and then -- yes,perfect. Gordon blinks up at her, with eyes blown wide with lust and surprise, as she sits on his chest, her knees now pinning his arms to his sides and her smile promising a vengeance that oh, she is going to enjoy.

“Turnabout is fair play.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #gordon tracy #penelope creighton ward #pen&inkweek2020 #clare vs writers block

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rainebowkitty · 4 years

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Absolutist's Son, Queen's Devotee (Oofy Riddle Fic)

History is often warped over time as ideals change and people evolve. It’s no different for the Queen of Hearts and her legends of villainy. Only in the Twisted Wonderland her story paints her as the heroine, and poor, impressionable Riddle Rosehearts falls victim to the tyranny of not only his oppressive mother, but a boisterously absurd queen as well.

(Basically an angst fic I wrote on a whim about Riddle discovering that his mom and the Queen of Hearts are both villains terrible inspirations to look up to and how that realization literally shatters him. Oh, and for the sake of making sure he can’t deny it, the reader can make anyone relive memories and potentially alter them? by simply touching the person, so guess what kind of stuff he has to relive? I won’t spoil anything, but it’s oofy)

Warnings: Mentionings of beheading

Now! Enjoy my first fic in weeks!

It was nothing but a mirage. It had to be.

Riddle was hyperventilating, his chest heaving up and down in a sporadic pattern as he absorbed the news. His first instinct was to deny it, was to force those thoughts of corruption out with every inch of his small being, with every fiber of magic his shaking form possessed.

But one couldn’t run from a vision, right? Pulling away did nothing as the images you pressed into his mind like a hot coal into his fist still lingered. How did you-? How dare you taint the Queen of Hearts’ legacy with such fallacies. How dare you challenge his mother’s golden rules, the very rules he tried to enforce in order to benefit Heartslabyul as a whole.

What a laughable lie all of your conjurings were. It was the cruelest slap to the face as he pushed you off of him, his shoulders tensing as he backed up, almost hugging himself. But you just reached out once more. And Riddle, his arms crossed over his chest defensively, couldn’t move fast enough to slap your hand away.

“STOP IT!” He screamed. “UNHAND ME!”

But he was quickly lost to his thoughts, a blank expression dawning on him as his eyes stared at nothing in particular, mercury orbs wide in disbelief.

A small, youthful redhead sat on a lonesome bench in a private garden. The boy was awaiting his new instructor’s arrival whenever a small rodent caught his eye. It was the most adorable creature the boy had ever seen. It was a pale cream color, small and petite with little spines poking from its back. Its curious, pink nose scrunched itself up multiple times as it sniffed the ground. It wasn’t long before it was sniffing the young boy’s gloved hand, ultimately deciding whether to name him friend or foe.

After the critter gave the boy a thorough security check, it allowed the redhead to gently pet its head with two fingers. Minutes ticked on until the spiny rodent allowed itself into the boy’s palms, pink nose now smelling a smiling face. Joyous, childlike laughter bubbled from the usually serious boy. It was so free, so pure in its form that you’d mistake him for any old kid with a thing for dressing up perhaps.

But no, this boy was Riddle Rosehearts, son of a famous, stern healer, sharing a moment of joy with a wild woodland hedgehog. The two made quite the duo, both short in stature yet fierce in appearance with either spikes or a menacing glare to keep them safe. Anyone would’ve mistaken the two as friends; boy and boy’s best friend. However, Mrs. Rosehearts wasn’t anyone, and she wouldn’t allow her prestigious son to mingle with vermin such as this primitive hog.

“Riddle, put that rodent down!” She commanded as she approached him. “I’m glad you wore your gloves today. There’s no telling how many diseases that thing has.”

The young boy hastily set the critter back on the grassy ground, the light-furred animal scampering under the bench and behind Riddle’s foot as if the boy was capable of protecting it from the intimidating woman. He couldn’t even bargain with his mother for the chance to have a real strawberry tart on his birthday, let alone secure the life of a defenseless hedgehog.

“Sorry mother,” the boy would’ve muttered had the woman not pounded it into his head to speak clearly if he was going to speak at all. “Where’s my tutor?”

It was an honest question, one he thought was reasonable to ask whenever he was busier than any kid in town. It often felt impossible to remember everything and yet his mother just scoffed at his question as if he should already know the answer.

“We changed locations for your lesson,” she crossed her arms in annoyance. “I believe I told you during yesterday’s tea time, but I had a hunch you’d forget.”

Of course Riddle thought. How could he be so forgetful when she even reminded him?

“Well hurry along now,” she tapped her foot impatiently as Riddle left with thin grace. He was so close to running, to sprinting just so he wouldn’t be any more tardy than he already was, but his mom would chastise him for that. He opted instead for speed walking, a heartfelt apology already forming in his mind to recite to the unlucky tutor. He knew people didn’t like their time being wasted and to do this in his first meeting with this particular teacher was unthinkable. He almost didn’t hear his mother’s last words as he sped off, but unfortunately he was conditioned to tune into her beguiling voice.

“Please be more mindful next time, Riddle,” her tone was more bitter than she liked her tea and it didn’t take much imagination to guess the expression she wore either. “You’re on a strict schedule for a reason. Remember that.”

Then she did something Riddle hadn’t heard her do in a long time. She chuckled.

“If you can remember, that is.”

Riddle picked up his pace without looking back.

“Riddle!”

His mother’s distraught cries rang through the corridors as he dashed down them one by one. He checked each room, his hands clumsily fumbling with the knobs far too long for his liking. He was panting, short huffs of breath rippling through his small form as he tried not to trip over his heeled shoes with each panicked stride.

“Riddle! Please!”

Another shriek. Riddle swore he heard a heavy sound trail his mother’s call, the thick, harsh reverb of it sending shudders through his already shaking body. When would he find her? When would he save her like the dutiful son he was meant to be? She always told him to be on schedule. Was this what she meant? Did her job as a healer leave her with such a tight grasp of time and its passing that she wanted to transmit that trait to her son too? “Son,” his mom wept, a crack in her usually smooth, authoritative tone creaking from her throat somewhere nearby. Riddle stopped dead in his tracks, the satisfying click of his heels dying with his momentum as he strained to hear anything over the throbbing of his own heart. It was silent again before he heard the precise cling of metal. That sound was followed by a burly chopping sound, the greedy blow of an axe striking its target as his mother’s sobs were abruptly cut with a gasp.

Riddle felt the material of his gloves as his clammy hands clenched into fists. He felt an unquenchable fire bubble inside of him, but for the first time in years he couldn’t express it with his voice. Did all that time biting his tongue for his mother really leave him speechless during her death? Was yelling rendered pointless whenever he was so shaken to his core he was unsure his vocal cords would ever function the same way again?

His legs wobbled before his knees buckled, not allowing him to collapse or to take another step further. He was in the middle ground, so close to being able to escape while also being entirely numb. If he should run from whoever murdered his mother, he was left defenseless by shock, fear, guilt and shame. That desire to rescue her was now unachievable, so he surrendered, shutting his eyes tightly and awaiting the worst in his defeat.

Eternal seconds passed as tears trickled down his pale cheeks. Then he felt what he was waiting for; a clap on the shoulder. Wait, a clap on the shoulder? He almost jolted, but his frozen legs and body wouldn’t let him complete the action properly. Instead he almost fell over. He struggled to turn around and catch himself without face planting into the tiles, but he managed it, seeing his mom in perfect health, not a drop of blood in sight of her commanding presence.

He had believed that presence was shattered. He had been so sure that the only parent he was ever devoted to had fallen and he had failed to intervene. He had failed to protect her, he had failed her as her son. And for a moment he was content dying that way by the same husky axe he was convinced someone stained on her flesh, her blood sputtering over an elite uniform well-known and revered across the world as the hope she inspired did nothing to save her in the end. He was ready to die a failing coward who’s magic was advanced for his age but deficient when it truly mattered. He was ready to be beheaded like the Queen of Hearts herself, like he was certain his mom had been.

He was ready for that legacy, not one of crying before his mom as he stuttered out broken apology after broken apology for not reaching her in time, longing for her to tell him sorry for deceiving him in such a harsh manner. To tell him that for once she was the mistaken one. But that moment never came. Only lectures followed as he sobbed for his mommy, a mommy who would never comfort or console him. A mommy who only existed in the depths of his imagination, someone he had to force into his mind to even gain the willpower to sprint down these halls as he searched for that proud, loving figure.

But his actual mom was not that loving figure. There was a reason she chose to test him this way, and there was also a reason behind the oppressive axe as her method of execution. There was a reason he was seconds late to her calculated demise and a reason he thought he had to die the same horrible death. The same death as the Queen of Hearts.

Not her too.

There were flashes of a short figure sitting on a throne; glimpses of a wide, cruel smile as soldier after soldier was sent to the guillotine. Memory after memory cycled of someone royal and absolute going over daily tasks Riddle had grown so accustomed to. Directing people to paint the roses, hosting Unbirthday parties and kicking out the guests unfit to reside at such a refined event. Only this time unruly subjects were given a harsher punishment than simple banishment. They were disposed of to make sure the same mistakes weren’t repeated down the line. But no one was to mourn in the Queen’s court, only obey the current rule set which offered no times for heartbroken liegemen.

For countless years their activities were outlined for them, their stories pre-written until someone new and daring appeared in Wonderland. A fair lady named Alice, always depicted as malicious and mischievous for disregarding the absurd rules of such an exotic queen. However, now the Queen’s destiny was chosen, her agenda hand-picked by those she once ruled. She was the one being dragged to her untimely end by the very subjects who should obey her. Only it wasn’t the Queen’s turn to atone.

It was Riddle’s.

“MAKE IT STOP!” Riddle sounded increasingly desperate as he pushed you away once more. He was about to see himself die like the Queen he so virtuously admired. He would pay for all of her unjust punishments. He was left with his neck stretched across the bloodied plank of the guillotine, a sharpened blade raised high above his head ready to fall and end it all with one swipe. Or maybe it wasn’t sharpened. Maybe they wanted to see him suffer that much. Maybe those peasants wanted to see the Queen suffer that much as she shouted her last command to an audience now deaf to her cries.

Riddle was gasping at the intake of knowledge. The tales always ended with the loyal subjects corrupted by a filthy miscreant named Alice. Why did she resemble you so much in this vision? You weren’t anything like her. You had no intention to harm Riddle or to taint the Queen’s name. So why were your graceful eyes looking upon him with such stinging pity? Why was your touch causing grandeur delusions beyond his control to prance along his brain like bunnies on a time crunch? And why did it all feel so real when the storybooks never lied to him before? Was this dorm, the Queen he held on such a high pedestal, really horrible enough that all it took was someone sweet like you to talk to the lowly peasants and humble nobles to overthrow her? To overthrow Riddle himself?

He swallowed hard as his skull ached, his shoulder blades burning as he backed himself farther into the thick wall behind him. You made no move to touch him, having realized he had seen enough to understand your purpose and the lie he’s been living. Even so, there was so much frantic confusion in each detailed memory that he craved for you to explain.

“Why?” He croaked as he stared you down fearfully. “Why did you show me that?”

“Because you were living a lie,” you spoke soothingly, but it did nothing to ease the panic in his eyes. “You deserve to know the truth about those you look up to.”

“Y-you don’t understand,” his lip trembled. “I’ve made myself to be like them in every way. When I was overwhelmed trying to abide by my mom’s rules, I’d turn to the Queen of Hearts because her rules were simple. I could follow them. I was always right by her standards. But if she was wrong all along and so was my mother then… what does that make me?”

You were unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t your intention to leave the boy’s ideals crumbling with the realization that his top role models weren’t deserving of such an incredible, dedicated follower. You wanted him to see that he didn’t need them anymore, but whenever everything he built his seventeen years of life upon could be linked back to his mother or the Queen of Hearts, you realized telling him might have been more detrimental to his health than anything else. And your silence to his question only further engrained this inferiority into his collapsing psyche.

“I’m just as horrible, aren’t I?” He whispered loathingly.

Once again you were silent.

“ANSWER ME!” He shouted, tiny fists bawled in an attempt to deny their shaking. If only he knew that his entire body was quivering as he seethed, every ounce of showcased hostility suddenly evaporating as he backed into the wall again, almost cowering away as he became aware of his sudden lash out.

The trauma you unveiled, the bittersweet fairytale you wanted to share the true nature of despite Riddle’s solid belief in the tale he’s always been told, it was incomprehensible for someone so faithful. But what were you to do when your idea of showing him the grim reality wasn’t associated with the potential need to reassure such a fragmented boy of his own personal good deeds?

“If you have nothing else to say,” he straightened his posture and hardened his expression, though the anxiety in his frame was still evident. “I’d appreciate it if you left.”

“But-”

“Don’t. Just return to your dorm,” he more so pleaded than commanded. “Please.”

So you left him to his feelings like he asked you to. It was a mercy you stayed quiet if you truly viewed him as suffocating as those he idolized for their severe disciplines and the success that seeped like bitter sap from following such intensive mandates. He didn’t want to know the truth behind your maze-like emotions for him just as he didn’t care to uncover the honest goals of those he strived to imitate when he thought he already knew and lived by them anyway. But if everything he was boiled down to the distorted perception of a nonsensical empress and an imperious, overbearing mother, then what original shards of himself could he rely upon for revision of his old ways? How could he become more than a Queen’s foolish prophet or the successor of an illustrious healer?

Most importantly, where did their wicked influences end and his own sense of identity begin?

If you enjoyed this, maybe I can write more following this realization of Riddle’s? I’ve also been told I write Riddle and his mom’s relationship really well so be prepared for more oofs involving that whole mess I’ll gladly accept headcanons you’d like to see play out between them. I’m here for your angsty needs, by all means ask away

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #queen of hearts #heartslabyul #twst angst #twst fic #fanfic #riddle's mom #miss rosehearts #mrs roseheats #mama rosehearts #second person fic #golly it's been awhile since I posted anything original #but prepare for a double whammy cuz it's kalim's bday!

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haro-whumps · 4 years

Text

Box Boy Plurality: Reliable

CW: villain monologue, referenced dub/noncon, slavery, gag use, dehumanization, degradation, brainwashing, creepy + intimate whumper

Tag List: @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook @whumps-the-word @frnkieroismydaddy @whumpity--whump--whump @michelleswhumpyreblogs @jo-castle @newandfiguringitout @lumpofwhump @infested-with-bloodv2

Masterlist

02’s knees hurt very, very badly, but his back hurt worse. The dining room floor was unforgiving against the bruising on his knees, and having to hold still, muscles in his back taut despite how much they ached, served as a reminder to 02 of what his new owner had done. Had just finished doing, even though they were now acting like nothing had even happened. They sat at the table, the other pet, Soren, cozied up to their side, claiming most of their attention, the two of them eating something that smelled so good it made 02’s stomach burn and twist and cramp. He was, reluctantly, grateful, to Soren.

He’d saved him. He was continuing to save him, by draping himself so artfully over their shared owner, by feeding them careful bites and shifting attractively, every so often, just often enough to keep himself interesting.

02’s back was grateful, even if his brain had a hard time getting there. He was--still pissed. The pain didn’t help with the anger, any. The guilt didn’t temper the anger, either, knowing that he’d needed rescued, that he’d forced Soren into a position where he had to service their master like some television whore.

Fuck. Fuck! He hated this. Hated the pain. Hated how the floor kept going in and out of focus, his earlier exhaustion laughable compared to this. Hated knowing that the moment Soren stopped being captivating and pretty and sweet, their owner would turn back on 02 and the pain would start again. What would they do to him? Starvation seemed on the menu (ha), they were in a good position to just lift up their foot and stomp down on 02’s aching back, or maybe they’d just kick him in the side while they got up. They had some sort of fucking god complex, it could be that they wanted him to know just how far below them he was.

Exalted (and what the fuck? The arrogance!) murmured something into Soren’s ear, and Soren got up. 02 twitched, knowing that whatever was about to happen, it would start (resume) now, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. And Soren cocksucking wouldn’t work twice. He felt his breath picking up.

“There, 02, see?” Exalted purred oh so fucking smugly from where they sat. “You kept your ugly little mouth shut, and you waited until Soren was done just like you’d been told, and now you get rewarded for your troubles. See how much nicer things are when you obey?” Their tone was saccharine, syrup-sweet, and 02’s teeth grit. Yeah right.

Except Soren set a plate down in front of 02, and he immediately began drooling, sealing his lips shut and swallowing hard. A trick? 02 glanced at his new owner (it made him woozy), waiting for the punchline.

Exalted grinned. “You behave so well for someone with such a bad attitude. Good boy, 02, you may eat now.”

02 lifted his shaking hand and Exalted tutted at him, making him flinch. “Did I say you could use your hands?”

Right. Right. Well, okay, not the worst thing he’d ever been forced to do; and this food was much more enticing. He bent down further (ouch) and bit into it like a dog with its foodbowl. He hated it. But it tasted so good, and he was hungry, and he needed the energy, and 02 didn’t know when his next meal would be. Mike hadn’t fed him much, but there was a routine, and he could carry on knowing Mike would simply beat him when he felt like it, nothing else. But Exalted, 02 gathered, was significantly more methodical. Much more like the Processors at the training facility. And with the Processors, the pain had never stopped.

His chin and nose and cheeks were messy, no precision when he ate like this. He could hear Exalted murmuring to Soren, and his returning, hesitant, “Yes Exalted”s and “I understand, Exalted”s. Was 02 just an example for Soren? A “Don’t act up or I’ll treat you like shit, too” before he started getting too out of line?

02 licked the plate clean, then ran his tongue along his mouth, chin, nose, everywhere he could stretch his tongue to reach. He lifted himself back up slowly, knees hurting, wondering what he should say, and if he even gave a fuck about what he should say. Probably something humiliating and grovelling like ‘thank you’ or some shit. Gee willickers Exalted, thanks for feeding me! Thanks for showing off the fact that you control every aspect of my life and not being a total and complete demon about it!

The hand in his hair made him flinch, his back searing with the spasm, moisture in the back of his throat getting sucked down the wrong way and choking him before he coughed. The pain came now, right?

“Easy, boy,” Exalted murmured, toying with 02’s hair as he tried to get his lungs working again. “So jumpy.”

“I wonder fucking why!” 02 shouted, and was immediately struck backside the head for his words. Dizzily, he swayed down close to the floor, back protesting the movement, knees stinging at the shifting pressure.

“Such a filthy mouth. But then again, you’re a filthy person.” Exalted stood up, Soren with them, and 02 bit down angry, frightened tears, his fatigue and the pain leaving him vulnerable to the traitorous habits of his own body. “We’ll need to fix all of that, and fortunately one of those will be remedied quicker than the other. Back down to the basement, come pet.”

02 tried to stand. He genuinely did. He made three attempts before Exalted simply ordered, “Crawl.”

It was humiliating. It was painful. 02 couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a mercy or not, and he hated that. He scooted down the stairs butt first like a goddamn toddler, embarrassed and exhausted, and bit back relieved tears when he finally got to the basement bathroom and saw thin wafts of steam coming from the shower Exalted had turned on. Not burning, not freezing.

“Soap and shampoo thoroughly,” Exalted ordered, Soren pressed up to their side with their arm around his waist, looking like a doll, an angel, some sort of forest deity all dressed in draping cream and white and gold. Worried. Pitying. “More than once, if you need to.”

02 bit down hard enough his teeth ground together. ‘Yes Exalted’ was the right answer, but he really wanted to tell them to fuck off again.

But he was so tired.

Ultimately, they didn’t wait for a response, simply strode past him with Soren trailing after them, sending 02 a final, nervous glance before shutting the door behind him.

The warm water felt so good. So stupidly, mercifully good. The Processors hadn’t let him have this; a gift for pets that kept their mouths shut. Mike hadn’t cared, but if 02 took too long he’d be punished for wasting hot water.

Exalted was wealthy, with a water heater the size of a tank in their utility room, and had specifically told 02 to wash twice.

He almost fell asleep, lying in the tub, warm water seeping into his skin and aching joints, dirt and blood sifting down, over, past him and into the drain. He let the spray lull him until he finally felt strong enough to stand, albeit on shaking legs, and he set to actually cleaning himself.

He guessed the fact that he’d been given hair-growth shampoo and conditioner made sense, given Soren and Exalted’s hair. Still weird though. He wondered, as he worked it to a lather, if he’d be able to read things much, now. Mike had let him. Made him, really, doing that stupid fucking job for him. Would Exalted care?

He’d keep his mouth shut about it until Exalted brought it up. And if Exalted didn’t bring it up, it was their own damn fault if they didn’t want him to. He’d read as much as he fucking wanted.

He didn’t know how much later it was when he finally felt, really and truly, all the way clean. He also didn’t give a rat’s ass. He was warm and clean and it felt nice, and everything out that door was going to be painful. He took his time drying off, and when he limped out the door he stumbled backwards, then down onto his ass. Exalted was right there, walking towards him with terrifying timing.

“Come on then, mutt,” Exalted said, staring down their nose, and there was Soren, right on their heels. “Put these on,” they said, tossing a pair of dark orange sweatpants at him. “Into your box.”

Soren watched Ren lock 02’s box anxiously. He’d never seen this side of Ren before. He honestly hadn’t believed they could be like this. When they turned back to him he stared up at their eyes anxiously, one hand on his collar and the other on his wrist.

“Easy, pet,” Ren shushed, caressing his cheek. He leaned into it, needing their comfort so badly. Everything with 02 was scary and new and unfamiliar but he knew this, knew the gentle touch of their palm and the way they soothed him down from his worries. “Just the bed for you. I won’t put you in a box, you’re not bad for me, easy Soren, you’re fine.”

Soren bit his lip.

“Oh, pet, what is it? What do you want to say?”

“Just, um. At my facility,” Soren started softly, eyes down, “they kennel trained us. It--It wouldn’t be a punishment for me, Exalted. I, like my box. It’s comforting.”

Ren was quiet a moment, and Soren risked a glance up. They seemed surprised. Then they smiled, and kissed Soren, and he kissed back because he needed this touch.

“What a good boy you are,” Ren praised, warming Soren. “Such a good boy for telling me. I had no idea you liked your box.”

“I, I like the bed too, Exalted,” Soren said eagerly. “I just, it wouldn’t be a punishment for me, I guess it would kind of be like a rare treat?” Soren hoped he was making sense.

“I understand.” Soren relaxed. “You’re so good for saying so. Would you like to sleep in it tonight? Maybe keep 02 company?”

Soren bit his lip and nodded. That sounded wonderful. A chance to talk, and the familiar safety of his box while everything else was being chaotic and confusing and scary. He let Ren lead him over and helped them move 02’s box to the ground, wincing a little when he heard 02 squeak, and then climbed into his own box, feeling his body settle the moment he laid down.

“Goodnight, my precious bird,” Ren said, muffled through the wood, and Soren smiled into the pitch blackness.

“Sleep well, Honored One.”

It wasn’t long after Ren left that 02 spoke. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I wasn’t lying. I really was kennel trained,” Soren assured, subtly shifting and feeling the close walls of his box, taking comfort in how little he could move. It was like being in a blanket burrito, only sorta better and very dark. “But we don’t have to talk; I know you’re tired.”

“I meant--everything. The cocksucking and for during dinner. Thank you, I guess, you didn’t have to, and I, fuck, appreciate it?”

Soren frowned, trying to think of what happened during dinner. Mostly he’d just desperately tried to ignore 02 and act like everything was normal, which had worked until they finished eating, and then he had to go get a plate for 02 and Ren had ignored him in favor of staring at 02, which they’d never done before! He touched his collar, reminding himself that this jealousy was absurd and dumb. Not to mention, Ren was being very harsh on 02, so Soren didn’t even have anything to be jealous of! More than anything, he should be worried about 02 (and he was, oh he was.)

“You’re welcome,” he said softly.

“Must be hard,” 02 said, “having a fucking freakshow like that for an owner.”

Soren felt rage flare up, replacing his confusion and anxiety. “Don’t call them that!” he snapped. “Ren is wonderful and treats me very well; you’re just a loudmouth!” That was--mean. That was rude, and Soren shouldn’t have said that. “You’ll see,” he tacked on, quieter, guilty, “they’re very kind. They’ll be kind to you, too, once you stop trying to fight them.”

“Shit, you actually believe that.”

Soren sighed and rolled onto his side, away from 02. “Of course I do. This is the first time I’ve ever seen them hurt anyone.” Soren hugged his arms and let the smothering blackness comfort him. “You’ll see. They’re reliable; soon enough you’ll believe them too.”

“I doubt it,” 02 said, quieter as well, now. “But thanks.”

Soren fell asleep with surprising ease. Given everything.

Ren listened to their pets talk, and spent a mild moment attempting to determine if Soren fell asleep first or not. Unable to see either of them, it was a coin toss, and no need to imagine up reasons to punish their new plaything when there would be plenty of real, solid reasons to do so, soon.

They pulled Soren from his box in the morning and kissed him, slow and sweet and much longer than they normally would. “Go shower and change, pet. You smell like old newspaper.”

Soren giggled with a “yes Exalted” before he rushed off, only glancing back once with a worried lip and look as Ren flipped the hatch on 02’s box. They helped him onto his feet, admiring the bruises they’d left, and turned his head this way and that, titillated by the glower he gave them.

“Since Soren is busy and I need to get dressed for the day, why don’t you go make breakfast for us, mm mutt?”

They watched his internal struggle, the little gears of his maggot brain churning slowly, but only briefly this time. Turned out he wasn’t interested in getting a repeat of last night this early in the morning. Ren went back up to their room, getting dressed and doing their hair and makeup just so before popping by Soren’s room and helping him with his jewelry. They entered the kitchen together, and 02 looked at Ren apprehensively.

They ate, they phoned their work to let them know that they’d be taking the day off, they let Soren feed 02, and then they took both their pets into the living room and pulled out one of the two nifty little tools they’d stowed in their skirt pocket, but kept it hidden in their palm just yet.

“Now, 02,” Ren started, seated on the couch with Soren leaning preciously against their side, 02 kneeling at their feet, “I’m going to teach you a lesson; it is up to you whether you would like help being good during this lesson.” Ren stretched the gag between their hands, like they were presenting him with a fine necklace and balancing it on their fingers for maximum appeal.

He was familiar with this tool. He very, very evidently hated it. His glare was nothing shy of delectable, and oh, they’d drool if it wasn’t unseemly. They let the moment drag out, staring with a faintly pleasant expression at the storming boy, Soren a warmth at their side. 02 said nothing, did nothing, but if he was playing the waiting game, his knees would ache long before Ren got bored.

Slowly, with clear evidence that it caused an immense blow to his stubborn pride, loathing radiating from him like a fire on a cold night, 02 lifted up on his knees, leaned forward, opened his mouth, and bit down on the center of the gag.

“Good boy,” Ren praised immediately, caressing his face as they fastened the straps and delighting in how he couldn’t stop himself from shivering at the kind touch, even as they gagged him. “See? You’re learning already.”

They pushed his shoulder gently and he sank back down onto his knees, and they wrapped an arm around Soren, tucking him into their side sweetly. “Now, 02. You are stubborn and you are vile, but those are only temporary afflictions, and you will be cured of them. I give you a week, maybe a week and a half before I have cleaned you of these deformities,” 02 made an offended noise, but given that he couldn’t talk, Ren kept going, “Maybe two if you’re really stubborn, and I have every intention of detailing to you, right now, exactly how that will happen.

“You see, 02, there are four factors to making a good slave: fear, obedience, stress, and loyalty.

“Fear is generated by pain, yes, but far more than that, fear is generated by inconsistency. A person can go through immense pain, but if that pain is consistent, reliably given, and tracked onto preconceived patterns, that person will adjust. Their mind will adapt, and the fear will simmer to a low boil, regardless of the intensity of pain. But place someone in a situation where nothing is patterned, nothing is sensible, and there is no consistency? They will be afraid no matter the pain or lack thereof. This is why Soren has been so frightened, since your arrival.” They smiled at Soren, nudging his chin up with their forefinger and softening at his nervous returning smile.

“You being here has thrown a wrench in our routine, and I’m behaving differently than he’s seen before. But worry not,” Ren said, their voice going low and soft as they spoke to Soren specifically, petting his hair out of his face, “You’ll adjust soon, my sweet.”

They turned their attention back to 02, who seemed befuddled, angry, frightened, but still attentive. Good. “Fear is what you currently have the most of. You are terrified of me, and it warps itself into anger, which is why you lash out the way you do.” Another noise of protest, but still, Ren didn’t care. “You are in a new environment, I am nothing like anyone or anything you have experienced before, you don’t know what to expect. Soon, you will. You will always have the memories of the pain that I can and will give you, so your fear will never truly disappear, but fear is best kept at a moderate level, middling of the four.

“Obedience is generated by fear and respect. This is why you behave physically, even though you mouth off. You do not respect me yet, because you are used to an owner who does not command respect. You only fear me, fear the Processors that you know you can be sent back to anytime your owner’s dissatisfaction creeps too high.” Both pets tensed at that, and Ren felt a giddy little shiver at it. “Obedience should be kept the highest of the four traits, but through a combination of moderate fear and high respect. It is obedience that lowers pain, causing a decrease in fear and stress, so there’s a positive cycle there.

“You are very obedient, which is good. It’ll keep you conscious long enough to learn how to keep your mouth shut. But over the next week or so, you will incrementally begin to take after Soren, who obeys me because he adores me, first and foremost, with the pain of the Processors a long-distant memory that barely factors anymore.

“Stress is generated by inconsistency, yes, but primarily it is generated by pain. Your body’s threshold can be expanded, but only by so much. People who are stressed make more mistakes, suffer from a higher number of physical afflictions that are more intense than in others, and their bodies do not process food or rest properly, and can directly increase acting out. Stress should be kept lowest of the four, as its presence has no particular benefits but many drawbacks.

“Stress and fear also directly impact each other, which one might assume since they are caused by the same factors. A rise in fear will be inevitably followed by stress, and an increase of stress will naturally be accompanied by heightened fear. However, stress is significantly easier to keep low, since pain only needs to happen with disobedience, but there will always be some inconsistencies in life, due to the fact that a lack of variety is terribly understimulating.

“Loyalty is generated through trust. Trust is generated by consistency and kindness, so we are once again presented with positive cycles. Loyalty should be kept moderately-high, not as important as obedience, but far more important than fear. You are still too new to understand that I am reliable, that I am trustworthy, but it is when I get this fact through your thick little skull that everything will fall into place for you.”

“In the coming days, I will hurt you, but it will be to fix you. I will hurt you when you disobey, every time you disobey, and only when you disobey. You will adjust, adapt, quicker than you believe yourself capable, than your fear currently allows you to believe. You will settle, and with the kindness that comes due to your newfound obedience you will feel your stress lessen and your opinion of me rise, leading to respect, trust, loyalty, and continued obedience.”

Ren gripped 02 by the chin with their free hand, making sure he was paying extra attention to this part. “And every time a change happens inside you, every step forward you make, every ounce of progress, you will remember this lesson, and you will know that I am right.”

They leaned back with satisfaction. “I only want a plaything, 02.” They smiled at him. “This doesn’t have to hurt.”

But it would.

#bbu #whump #box boy #villain monologue #slavery #slave whump #gag use #referenced noncon #dehumanization #brainwashing #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #codependent whumpee #multiple whumpees #ren #soren #02 #mine #writing

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reader-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Celestial Music: Chapter Three

A/N: Here’s chapter three! Sorry it’s a little late today, life happened, and then more life happened, and then more life happened. As it does. But here it is! I’ll link the other chapters later, but if you want to catch up, you can track the tag #celestial music on my blog or in general, or you can check it out on Wattpad, where all the chapters are in one place here. I hope you guys enjoy this one!

Warnings: none, really, except danger at sea

___________

The sea was as relentless as the gnawing in Marysa’s stomach. True to their leader’s words, the invaders had passed her by when the rest of the prisoners got rations of stale bread and a sip of water at dusk. Waves rocked and rolled the boat, battered by the force of winds that Marysa could not have imagined in her little village hugged by a behemoth forest. Thick clouds hovered low over the water with the menacing promise of a late autumn storm. The sight of that alone would have made her stomach riot with worry, had it not been empty from the night before, but the stark silhouettes of tall black dorsal fins that still tracked with the boat made her throat clench with fear.

The whales had somehow kept pace with the invaders’ ships, and there were more of them than Marysa knew were in the pod that lived near her village. Somehow, the group had gone from eight adult whales to over thirty. They kept pace with the long ship, which surged on the steady strokes of twenty oars, each manned by two fierce-faced invaders.

Next to Marysa, the blacksmith’s wife cradled a crust of bread in her hands. She was looking at it with the big, mournful eyes that wondered when her next meal would be. The woman’s eyes kept flickering between Marysa’s face and that chunk of bread in pitying indecision, though she said nothing. The boy on Marysa’s other side had swallowed the last of his meal long ago, and curled into her side with the slow, easy breaths of deep sleep.

When she could take the weight of the blacksmith’s wife’s pity no longer, Marysa sighed, turned, and shook her head at the blacksmith’s wife. With a flick of her gaze between the crust, no more than two mouthfuls left, and Marysa’s knowing expression, the fair-haired woman smiled guiltily and took one more bite of her bread.

The guilt would do her no good, but it was nice to know that someone had compassion for Marysa. The rest of the captive villagers had avoided her gaze, a difficult thing to do in the close quarters of the ship, and most of the invaders ignored her the way they did the other prisoners, as if they were all blades of grass, unworthy of notice even as they trampled upon them. There were a few fellow prisoners, though, whose eyes darted in her direction with a mix of curiosity and raw understanding that made Marysa’s skin itch.

It was too much, that constant interchange of scrutiny and studied oblivion to her existence. One was oil and one was water, one clinging and slimy on her skin, the other washing away any dignity she had left. The strange mixture flowed over her until she felt she might drown in it.

Her father would have told her to stop being dramatic, that she had called this upon herself when she spoke up and painted a target on her back. He would have said it with pride shining in his amber-brown eyes.

But this was his fault, too. Somehow, being Aryn Blársverð’s daughter meant something to these people. They knew her father, or knew of him. They treated that black sword with reverence born of fearful familiarity. If his name was not hers, if his amber eyes did not live on in her face, then she might not have been taken.

Or she could have been attacked and left for dead.

This was doing Marysa no good. She was proud to be her father’s daughter, and blaming him for her own stupidity and the cruelty of other men would not change her circumstances. Her mother, despite her otherwise quiet and gentle, never stood for Marysa blaming someone else for her own problems, or for problems that were out of her control. That was one of the few things her parents had in common: their practicality. Marysa needed some of that now.

The sea still splashed about like water sloshing over the side of a bucket, except this was all inside out. The wooden bucket of the ship had saltwater splashing around it. But the sky had turned that menacing dark that came before a thorough storm, and the wind still battered Marysa, pulling her hair free from its tired braid and whipping her cheeks and eyes with it.

In the dark, a tall figure rose from the back of the boat and danced his way down the center of the boat, balancing on the board like a cat along a fence. The boat see-sawed on the waves like child’s toy in the bath, and this man was tall and broad in the sturdy manner of a tree, but his feet were light and nimble as he made his way to the bow of the boat. He passed Marysa as he went, his murky shadow in the dim light sliding over her.

She went still as he approached, watching him carefully. The blacksmith’s wife’s figure next to her went taut, too. The boy slept on, drooling on Marysa’s coat sleeve, and she wondered how a shepherd’s son could sleep through a storm as a prisoner on an invader ship.

The man rested his hands on the sides of the boat, leaning into the bow beneath a scrollwork dragon that charged forward through the waves. He was close enough that the edge of his cloak grazed Marysa’s bare toes, which she could see but not feel. The cold salt air and cruel wind had numbed them, and she knew she needed to warm them soon, but she did not want to shift and wake the shepherd’s son.

A soft thud startled her, one that she felt more than saw in the shadows. Something grazed the side of her foot, and rolled toward her. It must have fallen from the invader, dropped from his pocket or slipped from his hand. Marysa edged her foot forward, finding the object to be flat and round. It yielded beneath her foot. Not a weapon, then. Marysa ignored the sharp disappointment at that realization, but risked edging the thing closer to her under her foot. Her eyes stayed fixed on the invader, who seemed impossibly tall from her place on the floor of the longboat, while his stayed fixed on that rocking horizon that promised a brutal storm.

Her heel came to the base of her seat, the item beneath it. With steady slowness, Marysa reached for it and slipped it from under her foot. Only then did she glance down to find a disk of flat bread in her hand.

Hunger flared to life in her belly, irresistible in the face of something that might sate it, if only for a moment. Marysa must have made a small desperate sound, a soft groan or low gasp of dismay, for the invader turned his head, tilted it down, and faced her. It was the steady-eyed invader from the inn, the one who had questioned the leader. His eyes were still steady, even as they glinted in the low light, and he looked relaxed. His face was broad and angular, with a prominent nose that leaned slightly to the right. He was handsome, she could admit, though something in his masculine features looked worn beyond the exposure of weather. His knowing eyes moved silently from Marysa’s face to the bread she clutched, then back again. He smiled softly.

Marysa’s heart jumped. That was the smile of a friend, one who saw suffering and meant to ease it. It was also the smile of a cat bringing a mouse to the doorstep, and knows he will have a taste of cream later. That was what made her heart jump, Marysa told herself. Not the way the smile transformed his face from handsome stranger to a conspiring friend, one that could draw her in with thoughtful gifts and gentle words only to ruin her later.

No, he was an invader. She was only afraid, and that fear caused her heart to race.

The invader said nothing. He did not move. He did not raise a hand to strike her, or to take back his little round bread. He merely watched her, as if a storm was not imminent, as if the boat beneath his feet were solid rock, as if time did not exist.

“Einar! Koma brott!” The leader shouted from the back of the boat.

The steady invader spun on his heel and stalked down the middle of the boat, shouting something in that rolling language to his leader. Marysa waited, heart pounding, for the leader to come to her, take the bread, and punish her again. But he and the tall invader with the grace of a cat were in conversation, shouting over the wind and waves to be heard, pointing at the storm. For the moment, they were not interested in her.

Seizing the only opportunity she might have to eat, Marysa wolfed down the piece of bread, not minding how it stuck in her throat like sawdust. She was too grateful to have something in her throat at all to complain. When she finished, the bread sat heavy and hollow in her stomach, as if she had dropped a pebble into an echoing cave. Still, it was food, and it would have to be enough.

The waves continued their relentless battering, and the storm hit with all the wrathful force it could muster. Marysa had thought the winds alone were overwhelming, but this storm was like something out of a fairy tale, where a prince is tossed overboard only to be rescued by a beautiful sea siren. Her mother would have loved this storm, the way the ship was tossed about effortlessly between peaks and swells of unfathomable blue and foamy white. Marysa, however, was terrified. Her white-knuckle grip on the side of the boat did little to soothe that heart-stopping fear, but she was not willing to give it up.

The shepherd’s son was finally awake and clutching as tightly to Marysa as she did the boat, his eyes wide and face pale in terror. His name was Coryn, which Marysa had learned when the blacksmith’s wife had shouted it to wake him. The invaders lit metal lanterns when the rain started, the little orange glow enclosed in wavy, clear glass that distorted the light as it emerged. But it was light enough to see the vague figures around her in the boat, and it was enough light for the invaders to see their leader’s face as he shouted orders, which their swooping oars and busy hands rushed to obey.

Marysa was amazed that, the invaders had kept the boat afloat thus far, as rough as the sea was in this storm. But they were still sailing into the heart of the storm, and its bluster had yet to relent. It was too dark to see far beyond the edges of the boat, and waves taller than the boat’s mast began to take the invaders by surprise. They would rush to steer away from the rising wave with their oars, the sail already rolled up and tied out of the way, as the invaders who were free to walk the boat would brace for impact and lean against the tug of the sea. Marysa caught flashes of their determined expressions in the dim glow of the lanterns and the flickering brightness of lightning overhead. Not at all like the expression she, Coryn, and the other captives were wearing. The invaders were calm, as if they had seen seas like this before and conquered them, and were sure they would do it again.

Behind the force of her awe at the storm’s fierceness, Marysa dimly realized that they would not have a ship like this if they were not prepared for challenging seas and great journeys. They moved with casual efficiency, even if their tasks were completed with the urgency of the knowledge that the task might mean the difference between life and death. They were practiced, prepared, and calm; even the leader’s bellowing voice over the noise of the storm had the same tone of practiced, casual command her father had used when he led the village’s celebratory boar hunt at the beginning of spring.

Who were these people?

But she knew the answer already. They were people like her father. Maybe her father had once been one of them, and that was how they knew his sword. For him to be a legend among such hardened, cruel people, though… her father must have had to do some very cruel things.

It should have been a surprise, that thought. Marysa’s father had always had gentle sternness in his eyes, and a careful way about him, but when he trained Marysa with a blade, there was always something raw in the way he moved. It was that same careful ease that the invaders expressed in every movement, with that same underlying urgency. She had always known, somehow, that her father was capable of violence. But at imagining her father moving among these people, trading passing orders on their tongues with her village’s blood on their hands and the same braids swinging over his shoulders, a shudder crawled down her spine and loosened her hold on the side of the ship.

At the same instant, a wave hit the boat broadside, gushing over the deck and back into the sea. It left Marysa’s clutching hands empty as it hurled her into the thrashing water. It happened so quickly that she had no time to cry out, and by the time she did, it was swallowed by the black water surrounding her. All sound ceased, and in the blink of an eye the world went achingly silent.

Marysa’s open mouth and panicked lungs let in a gulp of salty water. It burned in her chest, in her nose, in her throat. She could not focus on that, though; she had to find the surface so she could breathe air again. Fighting panic, her legs surged in the swimming motion her mother had taught her when she was young, in case she went too far on the beach or fell into the water. When her mind caught up to her legs, her arms followed, and she strained against the current, which felt impossibly strong. What progress she made might not have been in the right direction. The wave had flipped her head over heels when it took her under, and she could not be sure which way was up. She hoped she was swimming upward. Her ears popped, and she was coughing the water, with nothing but water to take back in.

It was a vicious cycle, struggling against blackness for some way out. All Marysa could think was that she had to get out, out, out.

Her arms were tiring, and her legs were giving out. The pain in her chest gave way to blurry numbness, and she knew that was not a good sign. In one desperate launch forward, her head turned and she caught sight of a flash of lightning illuminating the water on her right through the loose strands of hair that had tangled in front of her eyes.

She was swimming sideways.

A burst of despair washed over her, and Marysa went limp. All that effort, and she had been going the wrong way. She fought the despair. She could not give up. She would not give up like her mother had.

Like her father had.

She struggled to swim again, but her strokes were weaker. Marysa was honestly surprised it had taken so long. Still, she fought the sensation, turning her body toward the surface.

Another flash of purple-white lightning brightened the fathomless darkness around her, but this time, it silhouetted a huge black shape that moved steadily toward her.

Garbled sounds and a stream of bubbles left Marysa’s mouth in the water, as panic overtook her. She could not die like this. She had survived her parents’ deaths, she had survived capture by invaders, she would not be eaten by some sea monster. Blindly, she struck out with her right fist, but it moved impossibly slow in the water, and the behemoth came alongside her in the dark.

That behemoth had a deep brown eye in a patch of white that streaked along its head. The ocean was no longer silent; it echoed with clicks and whistles and sighing moans that shuddered within her. For some reason, the tune of her little song flooded her mind, in time with those questioning clicks. She mouthed the last line of it, her eyes closing against her will, as the creature took her coat in its teeth and hauled her upward.

#celestial music #chapter three #my writing #original fiction #fantasy #orca #whales #ocean #storm #i would have followed queue

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

The Ice Cream Bandit

Day 20 –

“Loving you is as easy as breathing.”

“But you’re asthmatic.”

“Your point?”

Day 21 –

“Get out of my face before I hit you.

“I don’t care if your 4 or 40, you don’t hit people.”

…

What you wouldn’t give for a Dragon about now. In a room of suitors you stared at yet another fake smiling three piece donning imbecile who pretended that the whole world didn’t know about his domestic assault charges an ex had filed and promptly dropped before the slew of yacht photos now flooding her social pages between pictures of the fleet of sports cars since having done so. Straight faced you greeted each of them as if you couldn’t feel your father’s eyes boring into you like drills demanding you choose the future owner of your life and crown. You had just gotten your books for your final year of University and had assumed you could be granted a tiny bit of freedom, unlike your mother who had mysteriously taken ill and was shipped back to her homeland to be with family before you could be brought home from middle school. It was since then that he had changed, a King with a secret is a dangerous thing.

At least you were allowed to school still for the time being, that is what you kept reminding yourself. The stroke of a finger against your shoulder down onto your chest granted the owner of said hand a heavy slam into his foot with your heel as you pleasantly said through his muffled groan, “Careful, someone else might take that contact the wrong way. I will give you ten minutes to hobble your chauvinistic ass out of the palace before I throw you off that balcony.”

A flash of a grin came in your pretending to notice another gentleman entering the room near the window to the balcony. The offender hobbled out and the entering male took it as his cue to lay on the charm while your threat was followed and your gaze lowered to the path outside the window overlooking the servant entrance to the kitchens. Again the same flash of blonde hair on the son of your family chef who you had seen and never been allowed to speak with outside of school. Always your allowed partner in classes, and in University the only one welcomed in the zone of nine chairs around you your guards kept for either themselves or to leave empty for monitoring.

Each time he would exit the door in between errands taking him either to the herb gardens or orchards for fresh supplies for the next course in a circle he would turn peering up at the windows. It was easy to find you today, head to toe in a white shimmering one shoulder gown hugging you to the knee where it flared out. Subtly his head would nod anytime he caught sight of you and a stolen stroke of his ear acted as your easily mistakable wave for a nervous twitch. It always meant the same when caught, ice cream would be waiting in your room, how he managed it each time you never knew but still even sharing your bowls in separate places was something, it had to be something, there had to be someone who would care about you and not who you were being forced to be.

“Loving you is as easy as breathing.”

That turned your gaze back to the visiting Lord, “But you’re asthmatic.”

His cocky grin only grew and he fired back, “Your point?”

Inhaling deeply you turned with a flash of a grin to return to your seat as the ‘entertainment’ was set to begin.

Past midnight screams rippled through the Royal Wing and with it Thranduil’s stomach clenched, they had only gotten worse since your last birthday and made it harder for him to remain silent. Even if he knew it was wrong he was held hostage to silence, where strangers would be thrown from the tallest tower for insulting your disrespecting you it seemed the King was exempt from that rule. Through a series of hidden tunnels he found your room and slipped inside, never would he use these forgotten pathways to spy on you or harm your reputation in any way but in your growing sadness he felt an urge to try and ease it, even if it was just a stolen bowl of ice cream with a nameless note on where to leave it for collection later.

Frozen in place he heard the King shout clearly, “YOU WILL BE BETROTHED BY NEXT METEOR FESTIVAL OR I WILL CHOOSE WHO SUCCEEDS MY CROWN MYSELF!!”

“FORGIVE ME FOR EVER ASSUMING THAT I WOULD BE TAKING UP THE CROWN AND WHO I WOULD BE FORCED TO LIVE WITH! I AM SO SORRY I DON’T HAVE THE REQUIRED APPENDAGE FOR A CROWN! ALL THOSE LESSONS ON RULING A KINGDOM JUST A WASTE FOR NO SON TO BENEFIT FROM THEM!! WHAT A FAILURE YOU MUST FEEL FOR NOT HAVING ANOTHER DICK TO FOLLOW YOU ONTO THE THRONE!!” Smirking to himself he heard a door slam and eased the bowl into the usual wardrobe hearing you storming your way back to your suite though for some reason he froze at the next slamming door and continued shouts from the clearly intoxicated King.

A heavy huff sounded in the bolting of your door and wide eyed in your entrance into your bedroom you froze seeing your ice cream bandit standing there equally as wide eyed. Hastily he pointed at the wardrobe, “Chocolate vanilla swirl, kiwi, strawberries, gummy bears and nerds, just how you like it.”

Unable to help it you smirked through a soft blush, “How can you say that with a straight face?” Shrugging in response in your glance at the wardrobe he slipped out of the room and into your study to pass through the door in the bookcase he closed behind him. Noticing you were alone you hurried to your study to turn around mumbling, “Where did you go?” An upward glance source of the shadow passing over you a white moth fluttering around the crystal coated light fixture on the ceiling had you mumble, “Can’t be you, my ice cream bandit. How could you get the bowl up here?”

Turning around you said, “Enjoy the light, and stay away from my sweaters.” Turning to change and curl up to your favorite late night court shows as you ate your ice cream.

In the kitchens again Thranduil froze once more seeing his father pointing at the candy pouches on the counter, “You are not avoiding the question this time, what are you doing with the Princesses’ candy stash? She leaves them specifically-,”

Thranduil huffed, “I took the Princess some ice cream.”

Oropher’s mouth dropped open, “We aren’t the wait staff! There are proper channels-!”

Thranduil, “I know! She didn’t see me!”

Oropher, “Even better! Sneaking into the Princesses’ suite! We could get sacked if you get caught! And you could get beheaded for damaging her reputation!”

Thranduil, “She’s my friend!” That stunned the chef even more, “She had a hard day, I didn’t take cocktails I left a bowl of ice cream and was gone before the King was through demanding she find a betrothed by the festival.”

Oropher was about to speak when his wife patted his shoulder saying, “I am certain he was careful, and does not cross this line often,” her eyes turned to her son who nodded.

“I would never! I just wanted to help her have something pleasant today to distract her form being bartered off.”

Oropher sighed, “Just be careful not to end your life over a bowl of ice cream.”

Three weeks of forced dinners weekly and events you would be dolled up for your true escape was another school party. Each time you were invited and the highest frat full of highly ranked children of Nobles would be there as usual each time you were demanded to go. It seemed the throne of Greater Greenwood was far too tempting for them to ignore, and as usual cameras were subtly stashed throughout with footage up for sale to the highest bidding tabloid for all the nonexistent gossip on you. Instantly they circled you and your skin began to crawl, a flash of white and you strolled after the life raft. Around your thighs your layered coral dress billowed and swayed on the breeze when you slipped out to the balcony.

Rolling his eyes Thranduil tugged at the tie he was forced to wear to attend this party, his braid was too tight and his vest was restrictive, but as always he found the balcony where he would sit watching the stars listening for any sign that you would need rescuing. Last time the ice sculpture tipped, a chair leg broke under a card player tipping him over the time before that, with a full power cut off as the worst he’d done with a snuck hand around your wrist tugging you to the night air guiding you out a back path your disguised guards had been relieved their allowed ally of yours was so prepped to aid in your protection. Heavily he dropped into the seat and sighed again releasing the button at the base of his neck then made work of his sleeves, unbuttoning one to roll up with the other after on his coral shirt matching your dress as per the allotted dress code for the evening.

The usual chatter sounded and then promptly died making him turn his head only to see you exiting the party on your way to his side making his brows inch up. Up at you he gazed and all at once you were wearing his jacket then on his lap with an arm slung around his shoulders with your lips pressed to his. Whispers flooded the party wondering where you’d gone as his jacket he’d set aside was eased on to hide your dress allowing you to be just another random couple in the crowd. It was meant to be one kiss and sure it still remained to be in the content rhythm broken into pace learning the motions of one another. Innocent yet growing more impassioned by the minute your fingers trailed along his cheek urging him on in a stolen flick of his tongue against your lip.

Surely you were just hiding, yet with his arms draped around your hips holding you on his lap flush against his chest that title and barrier of rank slipped away. Years he had left you treats to brighten your evening and now if all you wanted was this kiss he would savor it for as long as it lasted. No hint of alcohol was caught, only the hint of strawberries from your lip gloss that in a brush of your thumb under his lower lip was brushed away. Stolen fragments of glances at one another were taken in a pausing break for air, silent and uncertain how to carry on an inch closer from you brought his lips firmly back to yours again. Hours until the clock inside chimed a third time you remained fixed in his hold and grumbled at your arms retracting in a slow stroke over his shoulders.

He broke the silence, “We should get you back.” Wetting his lips he helped you up ensuring you remained blocked by his frame for the walk to the waiting car as the silently smirking guards followed along. Into the car he slid after you at a head nod from one of the guards who climbed onto the bench seat on the back while the other took the front seat. A subtle slide of his hand to yours along the seat calmed the tapping of your fingers when his palm covered the back of your hand in the folding of his fingers over your palm luring your fingers to fold in over his.

Parked again under the covered park a far from subtle call of the guards in your sheepish glance at Thranduil their heads dropped in bending to tie their shoes at once, though it was the tug on the Driver’s neck bringing him out of sight making you giggle under your breath in claiming another quick kiss once outside the car in passing over the jacket you had shrugged out of. In a whisper you flashed him a quick grin saying, “Night Dew Drop.”

In the rising of the guards and driver again he clenched his fingers around the jacket in his hands, “Goodnight, Princess Pear.” A yearning glance over your back in your path inside he waited for you to enter then turned to make way to the servant’s door, all the way to his room his grin spread with the warmth in his body from the feeling of your skin still lingering on his.

…

Sure enough by morning the pictures had hit the press, and wide eyed over their breakfast table the Greenleaves stared at their son with pinking ears shoveling down his meal before racing off to his chores. They were thankful he was nameless at least and his face was blocked by yours, it really was just those glimmering heels of yours with custom crowns in the soles each designer made just for you ensuring each pair was specially checked for your safety and comfort. A secret betrothal was rumored, though all that was cast out of attention as word exploded of the King suffering a fatal blow to the back of his head while you were found stabbed in the shoulder with a chord loosely around your neck.

It was everywhere, the guards flooded in around you seeing you to the hospital in Lothlorien under the watch of your distant cousin King Amroth, who had spent the better part of the day since your landing there fighting that you not be forced into marriage. Clearly distraught he sat waiting to hear how you were, the attack worsened in the media by the minute until he gathered himself enough to say that he had attacked you in a drug and alcohol induced rage. His balance clearly hindered as one kick sent him back into a fireplace mantel edge. Not two hours alter the surprisingly clean wound was sealed and the bruises around your neck said it all.

Where some had expected full refusal of your place you were the only heir and the council fell gladly in line, those all taking glee in the fact that their daughters now held a better standing in their futures in your being taken as the full and rightful ruler of the Greater Greenwood. Times had changed, and finally it seemed the monarchy was following the rest of the world, no more forced events, no more orders to marry anyone but the one of your choosing. A simple statement by you was had, bruises on full display, that you were taking up your place on the throne and anyone deeming themselves tempted to try stealing rule away by marriage was welcome to leave your lands in search for another crown.

It seemed a tad harsh, until the tidal wave inquiry you took into the actual deals your father had struck. School was on hold as you scoured through them all and the tipping point was found, a trio of Lords, all hung, who had been trifling of pieces of the crown for themselves had been flushed out into the public eye, fully stripped of their titles and financial assets you poured into public fundings that had been long over looked. A full month had passed and after a highly publicized coronation overshadowing the funeral of the fallen and badly used King had the lands settled calmly enough for a startling show of your place back to class. Sparsely at first, as you were due in meetings most days of the week, but you caught up your exams and even stole a highly photographed innocent lunch with Thranduil.

Each day you had settled more into your new tasks and also your new wing of the palace, a troubling thought for Thranduil as there had been no tunnels he could find to bring you your treats subtly, or chances to catch you through a window to see how you were that day. All he could find was a ledge leading to your balcony just across from his family cottage. Supplies in a bag he snuck to the wall staring at the ledge well above his reach.

A clearing of a throat made him flinch back looking one of your guards over, “Careful there, popping up on someone like that.”

Another guard behind him said, “Oh really? And just what is your reasoning for staring at this wall?”

Guard 1, “Someone might think you’re up to something.”

Thranduil shook his head saying, “Thought I saw a moth. Now, let me pass and get out of my face before I hit you.”

The pair smirked and Guard 2 replied, “I don’t care if you’re 4 or 40, you don’t hit people.”

Thranduil scoffed, “I hit people! You don’t know me.”

Guard 1 nodded and grabbed Thranduil’s wrist turning him around to face the wall before they crouched to grip his legs at the knee and said, “Hurry up there Tiny Tulkas and grab the ledge before the next patrol comes by.” When he made it onto the ledge he glanced down at the guards strolling away then turned to continue on. Through the open double doors on your balcony he strolled and looked around at the King’s quarters your Grandfather had once lived in now decorated to suit your own tastes. Setting down his bag on your coffee table he heard you changing in your bedroom, the turning of your doorknob as it was all set out he cleared his throat warning you of his place there.

A sheepish grin later and he saw you smirking up at him crossing the room in your pajamas to see just what he’d brought you. A faked need to wait for the guards to pass by led to his curling up beside you enjoying the sugary treat and eventually to your falling asleep on the couch. If there was concern of your reputation it didn’t last long as a trio of maids continued their verification checks on your safety and claimed the chance to cover you both up and leave keeping the secret with them. It seemed their new Queen had a secret too, but the matching acorn birthmarks on your ankles soon gave reason for why there was a new face attending the Meteor Festival who kept a firm hold on the Queen’s hand until you were pulled away. But little was left to imagine as per your relationship status when in looking up at the meteor shower he stood behind you with his arms draped around your middle grinning as you melted back against his chest with a spreading smile of your own at his kiss on your cheek.

#Theincaprincesswritingchallenge #30daywritingchallengebytheincaprincess #thranduil x oc

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