#bill skarsgard drabble

[anastasiaskarsgard]

can you do a one shot where the Marquis likes to play piano but he’s always been a lil shy about it. One day while the reader roams the marquis’s estate, she catches him playing and quietly listens until he’s finished before applauding

ALMOST

Today had been one of the most frustrating days the Marquis had to endure, for as long as he could remember. As he swiftly made his way down the halls of his sprawling mansion, he tried to clear his mind of all thoughts, but for the first time, could not.

Considering his greatest strength was his perfect control over his thoughts and emotions, he was barely keeping himself together. Even though he had never had a panic attack, and until today, didn't even believe they were real, he knew without a doubt, he was on the verge of having one.

And that was unacceptable.

Slamming the doors to his music salon open, he didn't acknowledge the maids that practically ran out of the room, at the sight of their distressed master. All who worked in his home, knew to give the Marquis the room, if he is in a mood. He was known for being temperamental and cruel, and often preferred to be left alone. He was immune to female and male charms, and had no close attachments to anyone. As far as the staff was concerned, he was a soulless machine, but he paid better than any other house, as long as you minded your business.

The Marquis began to play the antique Grand piano at the center of the room. Worth more than most people would earn in an entire lifetime, it had a haunting quality to its sound that couldn't be found in the newer models. Losing himself in the music, he was able to temporarily forget what had been plaguing him most of the day. As the song came to an end, he felt calm once again until someone had the audacity to start clapping.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around and stood, prepared to tear into what ever soon to be ex employee lost their fucking mind. Instead, he was met with the reason for his loss of control he'd been suffering since he first laid eyes on her.

"what are you doing out of your quarters?" He snapped glaring down at the young woman he had been saddled with earlier today. She was the daughter of a new business associate that was off doing a job for the Marquis, and since he was new, the Marquis often held collateral in the form of people's loved ones to make sure the job got done.

Usually, he'd put them in a room and lock them in for the duration of their stay, but he at least made them comfortable. If wasnt like he put them in the dungeon, which he totally owned since his mansion was very old. The suites he used for their stay were luxurious and had various forms of entertainment to pass the time. His staff kept them fed and even fulfilled any requests they had, so they hardly could call themselves prisoners. But that's what they were in truth, and he'd never cared how they felt about fhat. They were not allowed to roam freely through his home, and hardly ever saw him beyond the initial introduction.

For whatever reason, when he was introduced to this young woman, he hadn't wanted her to be frightened. When she had asked if she was free to explore his estate, he'd given her permission to do so, to everyone present shock.

To his dismay, she had decided to spend the day following him around, asking about his extensive art collection, and making him feel like they'd known one another for years. Never had he been so comfortable in another person's company. For many years people had spread the rumor he was a real psychopath and he had always thought they were likely correct. He had always considered his lack of connection with others to be a positive attribute. In his line of work, attachments were weaknesses.

Deciding he was being far too familiar with her, he excused himself, and made a beeline for the security room, to see how everything was going.

Upon entering, he was informed that everythibg was going as planned, and all endeavors so far had proven successful. This was almost unheard of in his life, and his mind quickly returned to his guest. He couldn't help but wonder what she would do to amuse herself. There were many ways she could get herself in trouble, and as he sat there thinking about how stupid he'd been giving her free reign, he ordered the staff to locate her and then make themselves scarce.

After only a few moments, they found her, and immediately exited the room, leaving the Marquis to sit in front of the screens and observe her. He could see the confusion on their faces with his behavior but he couldn't care less. Their opinions hardly mattered to him.

She was currently in his equestrian facilities, outfitting one of his favorite Andalusian stallions for a ride. Watching how easily she made the normally high strung animal feel at ease was riveting. Although he was a gorgeous animal, hed always been stubborn and difficult with new people. Not so with this woman; you'd think she raised the damn horse the way he was cooperating.

When the traitorous beast actually lowered his head, to make it easier for her to put on his bridle, the Marquis scoffed aloud, and sprung from his chair. Leaving the room without thinking where he was going, he found himself exiting his mansion, walking towards the stables.

Just as he was almost inside, she rode out on a different horse than his favorite stallion. When she spotted him, her face lit up and she smiled one of her disarming smiles and made her way over to him.

"I'm so glad you're done! I asked the stable guy which horse was your favorite, and got him all ready for you to go riding together." She stated enthusiastically. "Do you need to change or can you ride in a suit?"

The Marquis just stared at the girl completely dumbfounded for a few moments. Had she honestly prepared his own horse, and decided that he was going to go riding with her? The absolute audacity of this woman! He didn't know how to respond, so he didn't.

Honestly, he had been wanting to ride as of late. He'd been neglecting his horses, and even though he employed a small army of people to take care of them, he felt a bit guilty when too much time passed between interactions. Because of his guilt, he would go ride with her, not because of her he justified to himself. "I have riding gear I can change into inside. Give me a couple minutes." He'd said before storming off.

He had planned on taking longer than necessary to get ready to make her wait, but decided that was childish. He refused to hurry though, making a point to keep a relaxed pace.

When he'd rejoined her, shed surprised him again, when she took off on her horse at a break neck pace. Chasing after her, he couldn't help but admire her form as she seemed to become at one with the animal. When they effortlessly cleared a fence, he had to veer off to the side, knowing full well his horse was not a fan of jumping.

He slowed his horse to a trot, and looked around at the beautiful scenery. Sometimes he got so absorbed into work, he forgot what a beautiful world he lived in. His work wasn't pretty, so he'd always tried to make up for it, by surrounding himself with as much beauty as possible.

As he came through the trees and found his companion barefoot and splashing around in the small lake he had created on a whim last summer, he couldn't help but smile at her antics. She was the most free spirited, uncomplicated being he'd ever come across. The way she displayed her emotions so freely, and genuinely seemed to enjoy life was intoxicating. Deep down, he knew he should turn around and never go near her again, but he almost didn't care.

Almost.

"come in the water, it's lovely." She shouted out to him "do you mind if I strip down to my underwear? It looks just like a bathing suit, I just don't want to offend you."

"Don't flatter yourself, you couldn't offend me if you tried. If you want to prance around in your underwear, I won't stand in your way." He said with an air of nonchalance, even though internally he was having a celebration.

"you're going to join me right? Do French men wear boxers or briefs?" She asked as she took her dress off and stood before him without a smidge of insecurity. "Unless you aren't allowed."

"why wouldn't I be allowed to swim in my own lake? That is a ridiculous notion." He scoffed, sliding off the horse and storming over to the frustrating woman. "Do you think so little of me, that I am not my own person? Do I seem weak to you?" He asked lowly as he glared down at her. He knew he was over reacting, but he didn't know what she meant and he hated being confused.

She looked so adorable peering up at him with her big doe eyes, as she chewed on her plump bottom lip. "I was just trying to be smooth, and find out if you had a wife or girlfriend or something." She said quietly. Her eyes lowered to her hands as she fidgeted. "you couldnt possibly be single. You're too perfect. Supermodels probably fight over you on the daily."

He smirked and gently lifted her chin to look in her eyes. "Maybe being perfect scares them all away." He gazed down at her thoughtfully, before coming to the conclusion she wasn't kidding. She actually thought he was perfect.

The idea that someone thought he was perfect and desired by hordes of women was extremely amusing. While it was true, some women had satisfied his natural male urges, he never laid with a woman more than one time.

Chuckling to himself, he took his clothing off and neatly placed it on a nearby bench. He knew he had a visually pleasing form, and stayed in top physical form for his own vanity and his career choices. He wore black boxer briefs, and ignored the way she was checking him out as he passed her and dove into the water.

She squealed and immediately followed, swimming gracefully beside him as he cut through the water. Coming to a stop, he turned to her and tried to ask her a question, but couldnt think of what to ask. Not one to ever be afraid to speak up or get answers, he tried to be logical and ask himself what was his issue. Did this slip of a woman make him nervous? Did he care what she thought of him? Or was he just having an off day, and she so happen to be here for it? Was he attracted to her sexually? Did he want to touch her, and in turn allow her to touch him? It wasn't like he was a virgin.

So caught up in his contemplations, he failed to notice, till it was too late, and he'd been plunged beneath the surface. Using her weight to dunk him, she had her hands on his shoulders as she pushed him down her body, underneath the surface. Continuing down by his own ministrations, she lost contact with him when he continued deeper than she was able to go. He opened his eyes underwater, and watched as her shadow rose up to the surface. Swimming swiftly behind her, he made sure to remain behind her where she could not see him. Sneaking up behind her, he grabbed her by the waist and took them both beneath the surface.

She was a very capable swimmer, and he enjoyed their rough housing. He could not recall the last time he had played with someone.

"what's in your hair?" She asked with a look of concern on her face. Reaching up, she ran her hands through his hair, before grabbing his face with both hands, and kissing him square on the lips. It was an aggressive move, but she still remained gentle somehow. Nothing else existed in that moment. He was left breathless when she pulled away, and then realization set in.

He liked her. He really liked her.

Without saying a single word, he swam to the shore, gotten dressed without even attempting to dry off, got on his horse and left her there. He knew he was being a coward, but he hadn't gotten so far in life by following his heart. He was strictly a brain user, and it was telling him to run.

So he had, all the way to the piano.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have kissed you. I read the situation completely wrong and it won't happen again." She stated earnestly.

Looking in her eyes, he could see she really believed she had made an error. He knew nothing good would come from getting involved with him, and she'd likely end up regretting ever meeting him. He was self aware enough to realize he was not a good person. Anyone that he got involved with would suffer in some way whether at the hands of his enemies, or from something he would do, or not do.

Pulling her close, he smirked before kissing her forehead. Placing his chin on her head, he chuckled at the two of them. "Sometimes the hardest thing, and the right thing, are the same."

"do you know the most sad word in the world?" She asked him.

Thinking through many words in several languages, he knew many sad words.

"almost." She sighed, snuggling closer in his arms. "He almost loved her. She almost was good for him. He almost stopped her. She almost waited. They almost were happy. They almost made it."

She pulled herself free from his arms and turned for the door. "my father is here and said everything went well. I just wanted to come say goodbye and apologize." With those parting words, she was gone.

A few days later, when her father told her the Marquis had almost been able to kill the legendary John Wick, but had been killed in the end, she almost laughed out loud.

Almost.

[lihikainanea]

I know you have had a little writers block and not much time to write but in case this can inspire more tiger and Bill hear goes. So Bill is working on a movie that is a mess. He took the job because because he really loved the director, but lets so with rewrites and other politics that director quit. Bill was still in a contracted he could not easily get out out and he did not want to quit something he had already put work into.

Filming finally started back up with a new script and he was doing his best to make his character believable. But his neppo-baby co-star was not helping. Of course he was also considered a neppo-baby by the US press but he did not think he was not a brat like this woman. She wanted to change things in the script. She wanted special foods and no one could talk to her unless she was officially on set. He could not even get her to go over lines or how he could respectfully touch her during scenes since they were playing a couple.

He of course talked though things with Tiger as much as he thought he could but this was a very tough shoot. He would come home late and only get about 6 hours before having to be back on set.

His mind is wheeling one night when he has to do a love scene with this awful girl the next day. Tiger calms him enough for him to fall asleep. His brain has other ideas to fix the thoughts he has about the next day. He dreams of actually having an affair with awful girl. And the sex is just....he wakes in cold sweat. He was moaning in his sleep and he can not even look at Tiger. And boy does he not want to go to work that day either.

Ohhhhh I like this.

Look, I mean, with how many films actors do--every once in awhile, they must work with fellow castmates that they just hate. Abhor. Their hatred is so thinly veiled that it's incredibly palpable to the crew onset, but thankfully things rarely ever make it to the press because of NDAs and big ass scary lawyers and the like. But every once in awhile--we, the ever little-seeing public--we get wind of it. Think Don't Worry Darling. The drama surrounding that production, for the so many reasons it seems to entail, was just--unf, chef kiss to those of us that still love the thrill of a little celebrity drama.

And I'm sure Bill, in all of his perfectionist nature, was also hated on a few sets. His perfectionist nature. His insistence on trying the scene 100 different ways, for 100 different takes, until he was satisfied. Not everyone performs to that calibre nor do they hold themselves accountable to such lofty expectations as that big swedish talking tree, but that's just who he is. That's how he works.

But y'know, I'd even venture to say that it's quite rare that Bill actually likes his castmates and fellows actors he works with. That's not to say that he hates their guts--not at all. But rather he's just pretty...ambivalent about the whole thing. Neutral. He's the Switzerland of film sets. He's a pretty private person in general, a pretty guarded individual, and for him this is a job. Onscreen chemistry is far more important than actual chemistry in this line of work, and he's able to separate the two. He can have great onscreen chemistry with someone that he's not super friendly with, and he doesn't feel any inclination to add the to the inner workings of his closest social circle. Beers after a long day on set is one thing, the occasional celebratory dinner, gifts for the make up and costume crew. Getting to know everyone on a first name basis. But beyond that, Bill is more than happy to go back to his trailer between takes, or go back to his apartment at the end of the day, and cook dinner with tiger or have drinks with some of his friends who flew out to spend a few days with him.

And on that note, he's probably had to work with a lot of actors that he really doesn't like. People who either take themselves way too seriously (Bill thinks method acting is the most ridiculous fucking thing anyone could ever do), or the opposite--people who don't take this seriously at all. And if you call Bill a nepo baby to his face you'll likely be tackled violently from stage left by tiger--but it's also why he's ultra sensitive about those nepo baby actors who don't have any talent, and don't even have the work ethic to build it up.

It's still like pulling teeth to get Bill to admit that his laast name opened up a few doors for him, but he'll also be the first to admit that his initial acting jobs weren't....uh, they weren't great. But he worked at it, he honed his craft, he worked his ass off, and now nobody can say the opportunities he's gotten have been handed to him.

But y'know, the thought of nepotism--well, it doesn't really bother some people.

And maybe on a recent film set, Bill is living in his version of hell. His love interest in the film is a girl in her young to mid-twenties, the type who grew up with two famous parents and all of a sudden decided she wanted to act--so roles were handed to her. Bill's not quite sure how she even got the job given how their chemistry read went, with Bill nearly glaring daggers at her the whole time. She's just the type of person he can't stand. She's loud about everything. She comes with an entourage to everything. It's always over the top, all the time. She never learns her lines. She doesn't give him anything to work with in a scene, reciting her lines like a robot and not leaving anything to improv, natural reactions. She needs a million takes for one scene--not because she's a perfectionist--but because she forgot her lines, or didn't listen to the notes the director gave her. Bill is pretty convinced this entire film could have shot in half the time if she'd just be a little bit of a fucking professional about it.

The whole thing irks him at first, then just pisses him right the hell off shortly after. She's late for the call time, when the other actors are sitting in the transport car well before the ass crack of dawn waiting for her to come out her house. She comes into the makeup trailer blasting her music and yelling along with her entourage, while Bill is reviewing his scene changes and trying to get his head into his character for the day--they knock over his coffee, get in everyone's way, and just never shut the fuck up. Her friends--and her--are all filming all the time, and Bill spends most of his time between takes trying to dodge ending up on someone's instagram or tiktok.

But y'know, it's just so pitifully ironic that the only scene this girl is keen to rehearse--a little too keen, actually--are any of the kissing scenes, or the sex scenes. And with one scheduled in just a few days time, this little nepo baby has been all over Bill trying to find proper times--evenings, of course, with a little wine to loosen up--for them to uh, practice. Bill's gag reflex has been barely contained.

And like, tiger bears the brunt of his rants at the end of every filming day. Whether it's 2AM or 2AM or anywhere in between, he always FaceTimes her when he wraps the day and tiger always thinks that vein in his neck is real damn close to bursting.

"She just...she doesn't get it tiger," he rants, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette, "This is a fucking joke to her. This is my job, my profession, and it's a fucking joke to her."

"Has anyone told her?" she asks, "Maybe she needs to be called out on it."

"Her dad's studio is partially funding this one," Bill exhales, the camera shaking as he continues to walk.

"You're fucked then," tiger smiles sadly. Bill just makes a frustrated noise before continuing to rant for the next hour.

And like, maybe tiger goes to visit him on set right? And she's not it before, the whole rehearsing an upcoming steamy scene with him--but wait wait, I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So, tiger visits him on set and sees firsthand what a fucking nightmare this girl is. Tiger spends most of her time in his trailer but somehow, she still has to dodge what feels like a million cameras all linked to a hundred different kinds of social media, all from her entourage. They ain't shy about questions that are none of their damn business either--shit like who she is, how she knows Bill, what she's doing there.

"I'm his bodyguard," she cracks, except tiger is kind of scary when she's pissed off and she's not really blinking so suddenly the gaggle of girls don't really know what to think.

In any case, tiger can definitely see why Bill has been so pissed off lately. Everything is a joke to this girl, she doesn't take anything seriously, and suddenly she's just real excited about the scenes coming up in a few days.

"We should practice tonight!" she says gleefully, as both her and Bill are sitting in the makeup trailer getting all un-done after the day. Tiger quirks a brow from the back of the room where she's playing with one of the other actor's dogs.

"No thanks," Bill says immediately.

"You can come by, I'll get some wine, we can loosen up."

"No," he says again.

"We need to rehearse," she continues, "We need to practice."

"I've had enough practice."

And thankfully one of the make up artists--tiger makes a note to give her a big hug after--one of the make up artists sees every single hair on Bill's neck stand up.

"Bill, sorry--can you stop talking? It's getting the make up caught in the creases and making it hard to remove," she says kindly. Bill gives her a wide smile.

"Sure, sorry," he says softly.

And that's the end of that.

But like, look. It's plain as day. Bill is chainsmoking. He didn't sleep that night, he just rants and rants at how repulsed he is, and how much he's dreading the next 1.5 weeks worth of scenes. Tiger does her best to distract him--keeps his whisky glass full, hell she even gets him in the sauna and sucks his soul out from his dick just to try and get his mind off it. But the sun rises the next morning as much as we sometimes wish it wouldn't, and Bill has to go to work.

I'll be waiting for you in your trailer bud," tiger says reassuringly, "Remember, you can take as many breaks as you need."

But y'know, here's the thing. Bill is getting through it, because he's a goddamned professional. Is he having fun? No. Does he hate every second of it? Yes. But it's not that. It doesn't take him long to figure out that this girl...she's purposely fucking up the scenes, just so they have to do them again. And again. And again. The scene where he has to push her up again a wall, rip her shirt open, and kiss the hell out of her? Somehow, that scene took the entire day to shoot. 57 takes.

The actual sex scene, him on top of her, both of them wearing nothing but tiny little pasties? Somehow, that took two entire days to shoot. More than 100 takes.

On any set that Bill has been on, things like that could usually be shot in anywhere from 4-6 takes--maybe half a day, depending on lighting and equipment needs.

Bill was livid. He drew the line initially and demanded a closed set, after she brought her entire entourage to watch that day. It took a lot of negotiating, but Bill wasn't budging on it.

And every single day that Bill went to set and have to film that, when he'd get home--man, he took it out on tiger. The poor girl was ravaged. Bill just needed her, needed to completely wreck her, just to get the taste and feel and everything of that other pain in the ass as far away from him as possible.

But y'know, Bill's mind is a cruel place.

And maybe its triggered by something small. He has a long day on set so tiger goes shopping, and when he comes back to his rented apartment she has some stuff strewn everywhere and Bill spots a shirt on the bed. His blood boils.

"What the fuck is this?" he marches over to it, holding it up.

"It's....my new shirt?" tiger says cautiously, "I thought it was cute."

"Get rid of it tiger," he snaps. He grabs his lighter from his pocket, flicking it open and holding it to the shirt.

"Okay whoa," tiger jumps, grabbing the shirt from him, "Easy bud. What's going on."

"She has this shirt," he seethes, "I don't ever want to see it on you."

"Ah," tiger says, "Right. You won't see it again bud."

"Promise?" he puts the lighter away.

"Promise.

But it's enough to just...kickstart some part of Bill's brain that should have stayed dormant. And that night, he drifts off to sleep with tiger in his arms and his thumb in her mouth--except he dreams of her. And it's ~spicy~. A stupid ass, unreasonable sex dream that felt really good. Amazing sex, actually, and from the noises he was making tiger wasn't sure if he was in pain or having the time of his life but the piece of plywood digging in to her back gave her a small inclination.

That is, until he woke up and all but shoved her away with enough force that she almost went tumbling off the bed.

"Bill!" she shrieked, but he was already scratching at his skin and lightly smacking his own face.

"No no no no no," he muttered, "No no no god fuck no."

"Bud?"

His eyes snap to hers and they're wild, pupils huge, his hair sticking up all over the place and his chest heaving.

"You," he says, out of breath, "Here. Now."

"What--"

"Now."

And tiger doesn't have time to do anything before two long arms wrap around her waist and haul her up with force, slamming her into his chest.

"Fuck me," he growls into her neck.

"What?" tiger's still trying to get her wits about her because a second ago she was asleep and comfy and now this wild ass enraged beast has his hands all over her and she can't quite keep up.

A hard spank lands on her ass and she squeals a little, but then he has his fist balled in her hair and his teeth biting at her neck.

"Fuck me," he growls again, "Fuck me into next fucking week."

"Bill, what the hell is going--"

But then suddenly she's in the air, and then she's pinned under his body as he looms--big and scary and totally wild--above her.

"Tiger, I just had a dream about her," he snaps, "And now you need to get it the fuck out of my head so that I never have to see it again. So I'm only going to ask you one more time."

He yanks her head back, licking up her neck before biting down hard on her earlobe. His other hand cups her harshly through her panties and she gasps.

"Fuck me," he growls.

Tiger is all too happy to oblige.

[jardanikos]

[kingkat12]

neurons (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, foul language, author knows nothing about neurons lol

summary: Roman Godfrey is most certainly not the best study partner to have the night before an important test. what a shocker (not).

word count: 1,106

a/n: kingkat is BACK!! exams are fucking killing me, so when that is over, you best believe I will be back to my usual uploading schedule!! however, I scrapped this together for y'all (and also for myself because pls I need a Roman to get me through this study period). also, WARNING, I don't know anything about chemistry and neurons, I just had to think about anything other than my test rn which is in 6 hours... ENJOY<33 (also the gif is from @godfreysteel if I remember correctly, pls kick my ass if I'm wrong ouf)

"A neuron is an excitable cell that fires electric signals called action potentials across a neural network in the nervous system. They are located in the brain and..." Roman peeked up from the chemistry book with a rather offended look streaking across his face; "You're not listening to me, are you?"

Realizing I was being spoken to, I raised my head from the bed, flaunting a nervous smile. Honestly, I had nearly dozed off. "I am, I am! I swear, I was just!--"

"Listening with your eyes closed?"

Fuck. With a groan, I buried my face in the duvet I was lying on. "Look, Ro, I really appreciate your help, but I'm not going to learn this the night before the test... We should just give up,"

I knew that Roman Godfrey wasn't known for being the best at school-- however, he was the only person in my contacts who was available at midnight, and I was having the biggest case of brain fog known to man. Nothing was sticking. Seven hours and forty-six minutes until I was supposed to be seated in the auditorium at school, taking the dreaded midterm exam in chemistry, this was my only option. This test was supposed to be notoriously hard, so of course I hadn't bothered looking at it before now. Of course. 

Huffing, Roman spun around in my chair, looking both bored and frustrated. "I'm so glad I took this test last year," he muttered, just like every other senior did when this test had been mentioned over the past few weeks. "I'm aware that I can't help you with much, 'cause you didn't exactly call the designated nerd or something. But now that you've dragged my ass all across town to not sleep with me, you could at least listen?" He moved the chair closer to the bed, leaning over to poke my head. "Think of it like you're listening to an audio book, okay? My voice is nice, after all. Deep and warm, like--"

"Honey?" I chimed in, raising myself to look at him. 

Roman blinked. He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world before he plainly answered; "No. Pussy," 

That was it. Having my fuck-friend teach me chemistry certainly didn't make me the brightest girl in the state. This was a bad idea; I groaned, rolling my eyes as I shifted on the bed, sitting up. "Keep going, then," I said, doing my best not to yawn. "A neuron is an... excited cell?"

Smirking, Roman shook his head-- I wondered whether this made him feel smart. He had taken this test last year and passed it, after all. It wasn't looking like I would be passing it, so did that make Roman Godfrey smarter than me...?

That was a mortifying thought.

"The neuron is an excitable cell, whatever the fuck that means," Roman pointed to the paragraph in the book. "Let me continue, maybe it'll make sense to you if I keep going?" He kicked back in the chair again, leaning his legs on my bed before he lowered his voice, getting into a rather caricatured character of a narrator; "They are located in the brain and spinal cord and help to receive and conduct impulses. Neurons communicate with other cells via synapses, which are specialized connections that commonly use minute amounts of chemical--"

I yawned. Loudly. I couldn't take it anymore.

Roman's eyes shot up from the book, wider than ever. I held my breath, ready to be told off once more for not focusing properly, yet the next words that left his lips were ones of charming amusement; "I see that this isn't making you very... excitable," 

I let out a relieved sigh. "I give up. Could we just fuck instead? That thought makes me excitable,"

Slamming the book shut, Roman grinned. "You never disappoint," he murmured. Getting up from the chair, he motioned for me to lay down again; he didn't waste any time making his way between my legs, pressing soft kisses to my thighs. His words were interrupted with every kiss; "If you don't pass the test-- I'll pay someone to-- tweak your scores. Don't-- worry about it."

My breath hitched as I smiled up at the ceiling. "Why didn't you say that-- fuck, earlier?" I squirmed beneath Roman as he pushed the soft pillows of his lips to my clothed sex, humming. Every kiss, every touch, felt electrocuting; I wondered whether the neurons in my body had anything to do with these bodily reactions. Did they? I had no idea, and I realized I wasn't going to know at the end of the night either. 

"Because," Roman said, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he kissed his way up my body, listening to my nervous giggles of pleasure. "I like feeling-- helpful. No one has ever-- asked me to--" His kisses were getting wetter, more eager; "--revise anything-- with them."

My hands went to his hair, tugging at the tips of his soft, brown locks. "Makes sense," Of course. Who in their right mind would call Roman Godfrey to help them practice for a test? I knew that the only thing on his mind was pussy and... pussy. Along with all the other things about the female body that made him excitable, certainly. 

Roman pressed teasing kisses to my neck, wrapping his arms around my tired body. "Are you gonna call me the next time you have a test?" he purred.

"Um... Depends,"

"On what?"

"On whether I'm planning on taking it seriously," I gave Roman's hair another tug, hoping he'd kiss me properly soon. "If it's a life or death thing, you're probably not gonna get involved. However, if it's another chemistry test..." 

Hovering above me now, Roman nudged my nose with his as he smiled against my lips. "I see where you're going with this, I'll take it. But let me redeem myself, okay?"

"Uh... how?" An impossible task.

"I'll teach you the one thing I actually remember," he breathed. Judging by how quickly his smile turned into a smirk, I could almost foresee the next thing coming from his mouth; "The neurons are connected to the nervous system, so they're responsible for making you feel this." 

Roman's lips pressed against mine for the briefest moment-- it was so gentle, so tentative, that for a second, I thought I had simply imagined it. This wasn't usually how he kissed me. This was different. This was gentle, sincere. My breath felt stuck in my chest as my fist in his hair faltered, feeling as though my body was on fire. 

Fucking neurons, giving me hope that I could both pass the test and have Roman Godfrey for myself. 

(thank u to Wikipedia LMAOOO I would go on and refer to the article like I've been taught but I'm SALTY so no<3 mwah)

[stars-for-circe]

Circe's Most Frequented 🤍🤍🤍

My favourite authors over many different fandoms, for your indulgence.

@astralnymphh - TLOU, sapphic, shakespeare reborn

𖣂 There is no one else who could begin this list except for you tbh. One of the first authors I ever followed on this app and your work has never failed to blow me away; from your beautifully paced works that never run out of new prompts and tropes that you always nail, to your crazy big words you scavenged from wordhippo and managed to intergrate perfectly into your fics. To the Ellie Williams enthusiasts, give her fics a read and I promise it will change the trajectory of your lives forever. And don't be afraid to send her an ask, because she will quite literally craft a masterpiece.

𖣂 My recommendation: 'The Salvo Project'

@vifilms - TLOU, sapphic, she makes tumblr formatting her bitch

𖣂 At first it was your witty drabbles, then you graduated to 10k fics that take everyone's breath away. The way you can turn a single tiny idea into such a detailed work while also integrating the essence of each character you write into every single paragraph never fails to amaze me every time you appear on my feed. With your constantly changing layouts, and your beautifully crafted fic headers that show just how much of your heart goes into everything you put onto this app, you keep raising the bar again and again.

𖣂 My recommendation: 'Long Night, Long Ride'

@sweetercalypso - TLOU, multi

𖣂 Also one of my first follows, I remember quite clearly scrolling through the Abby Anderson tag on ao3 and being so blown away that I basically did a cartwheel when I saw you on tumblr. Your fics are the perfect late-night fix that are to-the-point, and your drabbles are filled with every trope anyone could even think up. And I'll shamelessly admit that reading your fics definitely moved Joel up quite a few slots in who I liked most within tlou.

𖣂 My recommendations: 'Texas Hold 'Em' + 'Uncharted Territory'

@the-kr8tor - Spiderverse, f/m, sfw

𖣂 I gotta say, this third movie needs to speed up so more people can come here and see how well you write for the spiderverse. Finding you in the tags was like a breath of fresh air, and your series works have kept me up at night on more than one occasion because of their binge-worthy goodness! From the adorable drabbles of Billie and Ramona, to the ups and downs that come with being a pirate, your works keep me invested even in the first, second....twenty-something times I've reread them.

𖣂 My recommendation: 'Our Place In The Middle Of Nowhere'

@s-4pphics - TLOU, Arcane, sapphic

𖣂 I hope you know that when you released 'The Call', it kept me up at night. Seriously, you're a genius. Maybe this style has been written before but it's the first time I've seen it. And amidst all the Sevika and Vi works that were being pumped out after the release of season 2, that fucking gem was put on my feed and it genuinely blew my mind. It was the perfect combination of crack-style fic and dark humour, coming together to make this smutty, hilarious, jaw dropping fic that had me pacing around my room a couple times - one of my favourites of all time.

𖣂 My recommendation, obviously: 'The Call'

@taintandviolent - Ahs, f/m, multi-fandom extraordinaire

𖣂 First of all, your username is fucking genius. Like actually, it had me saying it out loud and having such an OHHH moment and now I can't stop thinking about how cool it is. Secondly, if anyone has a taste for dark, gritty, horror infused tropes, or loves anything Evan Peters just like I do, her blog is the way to go. Her page is unapologetically for the monster-loving girlies who 'can fix him', and there's a little bit in there for every fandom that finds her. You're one of my favourite authors to send requests to, and you have definitely made me see Bill Skarsgard in a different light as of recent. 𖣂 My recommendation: 'Ouija Board’

[ofviolentdeathmuses]

name: Stryker Morgan

what: Death spirit and werewolf

age: Appears mid 20’s

birthday: September 17

occupation: None

location: New York

faceclaim: Bill Skarsgard

status: Single Verse

relationship: Dating Tilly

parents: Elise and Jake

siblings: Tru, Bodhi, Remington, and Gage

kids: None

Stryker is a dick. He’s arrogant, cocky, self-centered, and gives pretty much no fucks. He’s like Tru when she’s at her most manic and terrible, but unlike his older sister, he’s not bipolar. He’s just an ass.

Despite Tru being older, he’s beyond protective of her, especially when the manic episodes drop to the depression. He had thought he was in love with her, but spending time with the pack and Tilly made him realize it had been nothing more than a puppy crush. He's been happily swept up in his life with Tilly since and has no regrets about how his life has turned out.

Other Info Threads Face Drabble

[ill-skillsgard]

Another goth out here - Can I ask for hc's of all the Bill boys you write for with a goth girl, please?

Why, yes! I’d love to. After all... Everyone needs a cute goth GF, right? You know it’s true.

Axel Cluney

He steals her fishnets. They just look good on him. Axel likes to show some skin and he’s not a fan of real shirts. Only garments with holes in them, and she happens to have a lot of those. Axel will convince her to do a clothing swap with him until she gets fed up sacrificing her clothes and brings him to a goth market where he can buy his own stuff.

They compare tattoos. She has some meaningful and dark tattoos and Axel is covered in ink he let his friend put on him as “practice”...That friend is now in jail tattooing convicts, but Axel insists they’re not prison tats.

He shows her new music. Everything she loves, Axel loved when he was a  kid, and makes it a point to remind her of his refined taste by bringing her mix CDs which she can’t play because who even owns a CD-player anymore? (He buys her one from the local pawn shop so they can listen to Smashing Pumpkins together.)

Axel contemplates dying his hair black. He loves hers, so why not his?

Roman Godfrey

She has a crush on him first, thinking he’s the closest thing to the local “goth” boy, then realizes he’s not goth at all. She might think he’s a poser. After much back and forth, she decides he’s just a fashion guy, but he already has his sights set on her. He wears all the black in his closet and then buys more to assimilate.

Roman’s idea of a first date is bringing her to a forest where he smokes cigarettes and talks about being an outcast. She makes fun of him only a little bit, then steals his scarf. He lets her keep it, saying it looks better on her anyway.

He asks her if she knows any witchcraft or spells; if she believes in spirits and all that. It surprises her to hear these questions and she answers, “why? You wanna put a hex on someone?”

Roman has found a match for his attitude. He thought he was the world’s biggest brat until he meets her. It’s a huge turn-on for him to have a girl that doesn’t put up with bullshit.

Henry Deaver

She scares him. Like a lot. But it’s hot...Right? He doesn’t know if she hates him or not, but he’ll find out once he summons the courage to talk to her.

He’s wildly afraid of coming off as unimpressive, but he doesn’t know what these kinds of girls like. So he buys up a bunch of old-school horror movies, some of them truly god-awful, and hopes she’ll want to watch one of them. Oh, and he has to keep the lights on, and no, he won’t explain why. He just likes to watch movies with the light on. Yes, there’s a glare on the screen, and no, it doesn’t bother him.

She figures out Henry is jumpy and will lurk in the shadows to pop out at him at any chance. He screams and clutches his chest the first couple of times, then spends the rest of their time together peering around corners and assessing where she is at all times.

He will not make the first move. She kisses him first, under a full moon, and Henry practically melts.

The Kid

He’s the only man that kind of freaks her out. He’s tall, dark, quiet, and not in the typecast way. This guy looks like a dead tree. He kind of sits there all stiff and wide-eyed like ghosts are talking to him. Until he cracks his first gentle smile, she’s not even sure he has a pulse.

The Kid knows all the best scary movies, and we’re not talking Friday the  Thirteenth and A Nightmare on Elm Street. He has a stash of the freakiest underground film that makes even her feel uncomfortable watching, and she grew up on this shit.

She likes to wear dark lipstick, and he’s the only one who doesn’t make snide or “clever” comments. He likes the way she dresses and does herself up. It reminds him of a little porcelain doll. A cursed doll, but cute nonetheless.

To her surprise, he kisses her first. He’s not the most vocal guy, but he can read body language, and he knows it’s the right time. When he pulls away, the smile on her face turns his icy insides to liquid.

Henry Pearl

They meet at a midnight art showing in the middle of the town’s square. Her booth is set up with her spooky dolls and sinister paintings, sculptures and metaphysical crafts of bone and crystals. Henry gravitates toward her when he hears people whispering about her weird art.

She begs him to teach her some painting techniques, as she’s intrigued by his skill, and he obliges, but only later at night.

He makes her breakfast at night, explaining that nine PM is the perfect time for pancakes. She doesn’t mind since she’s a night owl by nature.

After they see each other for a few weeks, Henry paints a portrait of her and gets his first kiss as a result. It rocks his entire world. After the kiss, all he ever wants to paint is her face.

Mickey

He tries a little too hard to get her attention at first. She doesn’t know whether she finds him pathetic or if it’s kiiinda cute how he follows her around like a puppy.

They bond over music one day in Mickey’s car, which is NOT the car she first saw him driving. He lights up when metal plays, croons to power ballads, gets emotional over the break-up songs. She can see he’s a genuine dude who wears his emotions on his sleeve.

Mickey brings her flowers he stole from various gardens. He had a vision of buying her a bouquet of black roses, but they wanted 60 bucks at the store, so he improvises by prowling the garden district with a pair of shears.

Her black collars excite him. He asks if they mean anything or if they’re just fashion. She teases him and tells him if he wants to find out, he’ll have to prove himself. So he spends the rest of the week acting like the perfect boyfriend, though they’re not “official”, they are in his mind and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone else.

Merkel

Maybe the only guy who might be more goth than her. He likes black, wearing make-up and knows all the best underground clubs where they play dark industrial and everyone dresses like her.

He asks if he can dress her one day. To her surprise, Merkel has trunks of clothes he’s taken from fashion shoots. He styles her and stages his own photoshoot with her as his muse. The pictures are strikingly editorial, and she has the best time.

Merkel talks about hanging out with all her idols. She listens with heart-eyes and a smile to rival a sunrise to the stories of Gordon’s travels through Europe.

Invites her over to his place one night for wine and black-and-white movies, but all she wants to do is check out his handcuff collection and put them to use. With a coy look, he escorts her to his studio apartment, asking, “do you have your own safeword, or should we decide on one now?”

Willard Russell

He doesn’t understand all the black, but he wants to because he thinks she looks beautiful. He’s never seen a girl like her before. Maybe she’s an angel, maybe she’s the opposite... All Willard knows is he wants to talk to her.

She understands his melancholy, and he doesn’t feel like he needs to put on a happy mask when she’s around. It’s a breath of fresh air to feel like he can be himself in front of someone who doesn’t try to change him.

Her intelligence baffles him, and she doesn’t speak like the folks he grew up with. She’s different in every way, and he falls in love with her quickly.

Willard makes her a tree swing in the forest where they like to go to be alone. She finds this incredibly sweet and kisses him on the cheek before taking a seat on the wooden plank. His skin heats from where her lips touched, and he spends the rest of the evening with her in a lovestruck daze.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

mickey + 24 🥺👉👈 (ily)

“Float On”

Mickey loved driving through water. Maybe it was because you both went to high school in the sticks, where unpaved roads sometimes turned into lakes that you had to drive through and pray you didn’t get stuck. Most people swerved to one side or the other, trying to avoid the deepest waters. But Mickey was not most people. He always looked at you with that shit-eating grin, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You ready?” he’d ask. It was more of a warning than a question. He rarely waited for a solid answer before he fixed his eyes on the murky water and hit the gas. You’d both shout as the water shot up like a fountain on either side of the car, and then you’d smack his arm when you got to the other side and call him an idiot for almost ruining your car. “Psh,” he’d say. “I knew I’d make it.”

You glanced over at that idiot now, laying in a hospital bed connected to so many different tubes and monitors. His chest and shoulder were wrapped in bandages where the surgeon had removed the bullets, and he would have a fragment of shrapnel in his leg for the rest of his life, but he was alive. Another inch to the left and he wouldn’t have made it to the hospital. The doctor had said it in a tone of wonder, clearly believing it was a miracle. Maybe it was. But you felt it was Mickey’s sheer stubbornness—the blind confidence he sometimes manifested out of nowhere—that had saved him. Like he’d looked the Grim Reaper in the eye, punched him in the face, and ran like hell.

In the dim light of the hospital, Mickey’s eyes fluttered open. You were out of your chair in a millisecond, moving to his side. He blinked in confusion, and then his gaze settled on you and he gave you sleepy grin, still doped up on Oxycodone. For a moment, you were back in high school, and you wanted to smack his arm again and yell at him for doing something so insanely reckless, so stupid. But you didn’t. You grabbed his face instead and kissed him so hard you knocked the cannula out of his nose.

“Wha… what was that for?” Mickey mumbled after you let go. He stretched out his fingers and you grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“For making it.”

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Can you do a one shot where the reader is getting harassed by someone in a fancy party and while running away, the marquis backs her up and gets her away from that guy. They talk and they start to bond

“How do you even know these people?” You ask your friend Bethany, as she drives up the driveway of a massive estate.

You’d been driving towards the sprawling mansion for at least a mile. The grounds were all manicured and as you got closer to the home, you could see a large fountain before the entrance. There was even a valet.

Turning to your friend, you asked her again, but she just laughed and shrugged her shoulders. Rolling your eyes, you checked yourself out in the visor mirror and decided to reapply your lipstick.

You’d known Bethany since grade school, and you never were really close, but you’d party together sometimes. Her mother had married some rich guy a few years back, so now she ran in a different crowd.

When she’d called you earlier today and asked if you wanted to go to a party, you’d been excited just to see her again. Now you weren’t so sure. She’d changed a lot.

No more was the sweet girl that snorted when she laughed and only wore sneakers. She looked like she had gotten several cosmetic procedures, was dressed head to toe in designer couture, and had made you go change your outfit twice before she’d let you in her car.

Speaking of her car, you’d never been in a Bentley and felt very nervous about messing it up. You had been nervous to sully the car with yourself, and had felt like you were in some alternate reality.

As the valet opened your door and helped you out of the car, you didn’t feel any less out of place.

“Don’t embarrass me.” Bethany whispered to you as she took you by the arm and led you up the stairs to the front door: “you’re the only one from my old neighborhood that looks the part, if you can just act like it, we can go to more parties like this and maybe you can meet a rich guy and get out of the slums as well. “

Your eyes widened at her insult of her prior neighborhood. It wasn’t the slums at all! Your neighborhood was an upper middle class working people type neighborhood. The houses were average size and everyone took pride in their appearance. There were no run down homes in your neighborhood, and you all looked out for each other. Like when Mrs Dewey’s husband died and she was on a fixed income, and couldn’t paint the exterior of her home, the whole neighborhood got together and made a day of it. She cooked everyone a meal and next thing you knew it was a block party. Bethany had been there that day, and you remember how happy and carefree you both had felt.

Looking over at your friend now, hardly recognizable with her new nose, lips, and face injected with fillers, new hair that must be extensions, fake tan, fake nails, fake tits, fake lashes, fake teeth, and likely a bunch of other things you didn’t know to look for, you couldn’t help but feel bad for her. You couldn’t imagine allowing some doctor to butcher you into something society liked to look at. Everything that had made her different, and truly beautiful was gone.

As you followed your friend inside, you were too distracted by how similar all the women here looked to even notice the ostentatious wealth that surrounded you. Everywhere you looked you saw women that were thin with breasts and bums that didn’t look like natural proportions. They all seemed to have the same nose and lip doctor, and all appeared to be variations of the same kind of doll.

Offhandedly, you wondered how much time these women spent healing. You’d never had any work done, beyond getting your wisdom teeth taken out, but that probably didn’t count.

“Hello? Where did you go? Come back to earth, I want you to meet my friends, and I swear to God, if you embarrass me girl…” Bethany warned you, with a fake smile for appearances on her face.

Noticing a group of people looking expectantly between the two of you, you could already tell by the way they looked you over, that you weren’t going to like them. Pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind, you decided to make the best of this night, and not judge anyone before you spoke to them.

Bethany introduced you as her childhood friend, and then listed a brief list of your accomplishments and interests, as if she were at a livestock auction, talking up the next beast up for sale.

They appeared to be 3 couples and one single man, that had walked up half way through Bethany’s introduction and visibly flustered Bethany when she turned to see him standing there.

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing as she stumbled over her words, before falling into an awkward half bow, half curtsy turning the color of a stop sign.

Although the man was extremely statuesque, attractive, and well dressed, he also appeared to be no older than his late twenties and appeared to be friendly. Maybe she had a crush on him? You didn’t know, but you did know you were thirsty.

Looking around the large Ballroom, you could see a bar not far from your group, and decided to just go grab some drinks while your friend got her wits about her. She just needed a drink to take the edge off.

As the bartender prepared your Long Island ice teas, you turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat right next you.

It was one of your friends acquaintances, so you smiled and turned your attention back to your drinks being made.

“So why did you run away? Scared of the Marquis, or just don’t find any of us appealing?” He asked you.

Looking at him incredulously, you shook your head and told him that taken men weren’t your type. “Furthermore, I don’t even know if anyone even holds a Marquis title anymore. Last time I checked, most of the aristocracy was wiped out during the Revolution.”

“That whore isn’t my girlfriend. She’s been run through by more guys than your dear friend Bethany. They’re just a bunch of spoiled rich girls, that me and my boys are sick of, so we told them to bring us fresh meat.” The guy chuckled, before reaching over and taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. “This is your real hair isn’t it? I’ve never seen you before, and I would have noticed you.”

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you side stepped away from him, and decided to just ignore him. You knew guys like this, and nothing you said to defend your friend, or tell him what a jerk he was, would be able to penetrate his ego.

“You really have no idea who I am do you?” He asked as he took your hand in his and tried to pull you back over to him.

Planting your feet firmly, and flashing him your fakest smile, you attempted to pull your hand from his, but he was gripping it so tightly, it was almost painful. Not wanting to make a scene, you blocked out what he was saying into your ear, and nearly jumped for joy when the bartender delivered your drinks.

“Looks like I need my hand back,” you told him, batting your eyelashes at him, like you weren’t desperate to escape him. “I need to carry our drinks.”

Glancing at the two drinks before you, he pulled you closer to him, with an expression on his handsome face that you were sure he thought was alluring. Too bad it had the opposite effect on you.

“Listen buddy, I’m trying to be polite, but if you don’t let my hand go, we are going to have a problem.” You bit out, unwilling to be touched by this jerk another second.

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked down at you arrogantly, “ooh so you’re from the working class. Lucky for you, so am I. You look like you belong here, but you really just won the DNA lottery and look this way naturally. You see, every woman in this room pays me hundreds of thousands of dollars to look like you. I must say tho, you are exquisite. I’ve never said this to anyone, but I don’t think you need anything done. Maybe some nice fuller breasts? Would you like that? I can make that happen for you. I could make anything you want happen.”

You were shocked by the things this guy was saying to you, and it only got worse, the more he spoke. “Are you fucking with me? Bethany had to have put you up to this right?” You laughed out loud at how long it took you to catch on to the prank. No one was this delusional. When your laughing calmed a bit and you turned to see his dumbfounded face, you burst out laughing again.

“Oh my God! Ok ok! You can stop. You’re an amazing actor. I honestly thought you were seriously some ego maniac that I was going to have kick in the balls to eacape from!” You watched as his expression grew more confused, before his jaw tightened, lips thinned and he glared menacingly at you.

That wasn’t good. Once again unsure of this man’s intentions, you snatched your hand away, picked up the drinks, and made a mad dash to Bethany.

Finding Bethany still speaking to the mystery guy, you quietly stood next to her and placed the drink in her hand. Before you could introduce yourself, Mr. Wonderful stormed over, had excused himself and said he had to speak to Bethany about a pressing matter.

Bethany looked at you accusingly, but let the guy pull her off to the side.

“Pressing matter my foot.” You stated out loud, forgetting you weren’t alone.

“I think you have hurt Andres feelings.”

Turning to the mystery man, you rolled your eyes and smiled. “Only if he was honestly hitting on me, and not just playing a prank on me. Bethany and I used to mess with people all the time. We were terrible children. He’s probably upset I caught on. He acted like he was some big plastic surgeon, that has run through all the women here, so he ordered Bethany and her friends to bring them new sacrifices. He even offered me new boobs, and I laughed so hard I think I peed a little.”

The man’s eyebrows drew together and he asked if you needed assistance cleaning up, or a change of clothes and you couldn’t help but warm to him a bit.

“I didn’t literally pee, it’s an expression. And I’m afraid to ask why you have spare women’s clothing in your car or something.” You said.

“I have clothing of various sizes in one of the guest -“ he started to say before being cut off.

“I’m sorry Marquis, but I need to take her back home,” Bethany stated overly cheerily.

“Why?” You asked.

Bethany gave you an exasperated look. “I’ll tell you on the way to the car.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? Is it because of your creep of a friend?”

Bethany’s eyes widened and she looked between you and the Marquis close to snapping.

“I don’t think your friend wants to leave.” The Marquis started.

“She’s not my friend. She’s an acquaintance from years ago. I thought she was cool, but turns out she’s not.” Bethany stated, before turning to you again. “It’s time to go. You wore out your welcome, and they don’t want you here.”

Your mind started to race with what to do. You honestly weren’t too shocked that Bethany had turned on you so quick. You internally cringed when you realized that guy wasn’t kidding and had been being serious.

You contemplated telling Bethany what her “friend” thought of her, but before you could organize what to say, the Marquis stepped between you and Bethany, facing her.

“I’ve got her from here. You may go join your friends.” He said.

“With all due respect, I brought her here. She’s nobody. Just a girl I used to know that’s pretty, so I brought her here to meet my friends but she thinks she’s too good for everyone and was really rude to him for no reason.” Bethany explained.

The Marquis just chuckled shaking his head. “I know Andre very well, and I can guarantee there’s a reason.” Turning his back to her in dismissal, he offered for you to take his hand.

Glancing over his shoulder at Bethany’s furious expression, you turned your attention to the nice mystery Marquis, and followed him to the dance floor.

[lihikainanea]

I am picturing Bill having this specific hobby/thing he likes (a book, a game, an album, etc.) and Tiger knows about it. it's not really Her Thing but she can dabble into it (learn it, experience it). and then one day Bill talks about it and Tiger just simply agrees with him, says a few points of her own about how she's grown to like it, and Bill is just a bundle of emotions. because it's a lot of things at once. she took the time to see what it was about? and then as he listens to her talk about it more it's all OF COURSE she'd get it. OF COURSE she understands the joy he gets from it, why it means so much to him, and so on. it's just a simple moment, but Bill feels so seen and it hits him like a truck. he is so in love. they end up snuggling. :'D

oh god, what if it's something so completely out there and something so not-on-brand that he's actually a little bit shy about it? What if it's something so absurd like....like crochet, nani.

IT'S CROCHET ISN'T IT.

And I'll bet tiger thinks it's real sweet right? Because maybe Granny taught Bill how to crochet. Maybe they'd kind of spend hours together over tea and madeleines, Bill would be holding the ball of yarn while Granny's hands went a mile a minute, and eventually Bill just kind of...well, he picked it up too. And tiger thinks it's so sweet, this big dude with these huge clumsy hands, but the thing is...Bill is kind of really good at it. Like, really good. So tiger also appreciates having all kinds of warm socks and mittens and toques all custom made. And Bill is pretty damn talented, so he crochets all kinds of fancy patterns with all kinds of colours and every once in awhile when a mutual friend compliments tiger's new cute mittens, Bill just sort of smiles shyly and lets himself be a little proud.

And like, he's also super into it, you know? Once he lets go of the initial embarassment. Maybe once tiger points out that literally thousands--if not millions--of people have seen his ween (And literally the ween of nearly every male in his family) on a big screen so a little crafty habit is nothing to be ashamed of. He's part of groups. Facebook groups, online groups. One is for troubleshooting, which he turned to when he couldn't figure out why his current project was just getting wider and wider or when his chain was too tight or he was only crocheting in the front loop. One is for inspo, all kinds of things he wants to create. And one is a legit little support group in the area that meet up every so often, and Bill wishes so badly that he could go but he just doesn't want the visibility. He knows he's the only man in the group, and he's...well, he's him. it would cause a stir.

So my girl tiger--ever the one to indulge her Big Dude in all of his adorable weirdness--maybe there are like, CONS for these things. A Crochet-Con. And she gets wind of one happening about 2 hours away, way in the country side. There's only about 100 people or so who attend, it's so niche, and after some careful creeping tiger realizes that the average age of the participants is like, 80.

Nobody will know who he is there.

It's a whole 2-day event. There's discussion groups to troubleshoot common issues. There's a workshop on crocheting complex patterns. There's a small trade show area where you can sell some of your goods. So tiger gets two tickets, prints them out, and gets all giddy.

Maybe she wanted to keep it a surprise for longer, but when she bounced into the living room she saw her big dorky dude there on the couch, his thick rimmed glasses on, a foot propped up on the coffee table. His tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration as his gaze was fixed on the small crochet hook, the ball of yarn, and this dainty, intricate pattern between his huge hands.

"I have a surprise for you," she smiles, plopping down on the couch. Without missing a beat Bill passes her the ball of yarn and she instinctively unravels some of it as his little crochet hook bobs and weaves at an impressive speed.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks but doesn't look away, "What's that?"

She puts her hand on the small pattern he's creating but he squawks.

"I'll drop a stitch!" he shrieks, then inspects the little piece of fabric thoroughly. Tiger just quirks a brow, and waits.

"Crisis averted?" she chuckles.

"Barely," he snarks, then he softens. "What's up kid?"

Tiger pulls the tickets out from behind her back and hands them to him, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Hooker Con?" he asks skeptically.

"Keep reading."

He scans the rest of the writing, and then his eyes light up.

"It's a crochet con?" he asks excitedly. She nods, smiling.

"It's two days?" he continues reading, "Troubleshooting, discussions, workshop--oh my god, the Jasmine stitch?! that one's impossible to do!"

"It's in two weeks," she says, "I thought it might be fun."

But then suddenly, his face falls.

"Tiger, what about--"

"They won't," she answers his silent question, "I creeped a few past...Hookers. They're all in their 80s bud. I don't think it'll be an issue. And if you're worried, we can glue a beard on you. Slap a wig on."

He smiles at her, leaning over to kiss her.

"There's two tickets," he mumbles, "You're going to come?"

"Of course," she chuckles, "I'd love to."

"But it's crochet," he says shyly.

"It's you," she tells him with another kiss, "And I love this little hobby of yours. I think it's sweet."

"You do?"

"Of course. And I want to...FOTH and frog and HOTH all weekend with you."

Bill laughs boisterously.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," he chuckles.

[shhhhhskars]

The night was full of with small talk, too much alcohol and Alexander constantly gripping at your waist and squeezing everytime someone said something cringe worthy. It was one of those nights, socialites gathering for a charitable gala, a buzzing dimly lit ball room with no where to run. Alex would much rather be at home, but Papa Stellan had specifically requested his presence and he of course he had to drag you along with him for good measure. He loved the food, though, and helped himself to whatever they waltzed around on the porcelain dishes as well as shamelessly attacking the appetizers on your plate. When it was finally time for you two to head out, he was like a small child- grabbing for your hand, needy almost- wanting to feel you close to him. You had one too many and he was gently helping you into the escalade, making sure to lift your dress so it didn’t cling to your thin, high heels. Once you guys were securely inside, he made sure to take your hand in his, your hands tiny compared to his huge palm. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his head fall rest back on the leather seat, a small breath escaping his slightly parted lips. “Long night, lover?” you were still holding his hand when you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Very.” his voice was a barely above a murmur, you could feel the exhaustion radiating from him. Your eyes travelled down his face, to his neck, his shoulders, tensed up in his fitted suit jacket. “When we get home. I need you.” He said it cooly, like it was something he read about and wanted to share it with you. You paused, wondering where you wanted this to go tonight...

[kingkat12]

feeling (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, fingering, voyeurism, semi-public sexual activities, smoking, teasing, praises, Roman shouldn't be allowed on school grounds

summary: you've finally mastered the art of feeling nothing at all. emotions don't serve you, they're painful, and everything about them downright suck. however, what happens when you're suddenly faced with the fact that feeling can feel... good?

word count: 3,200

a/n: hey luvs!! I've always hated being someone that feels everything deeply and painfully, even the smallest things, so I wrote the start last night just to get it out of my head, but... you know me, it spiralled, SORRY!!! tihi oh well, enjoy!<33

Everything in life had to be a fight. Always.

Living could be so painful sometimes. Feeling was exhausting. Therefore, it was easier to shut down all my emotions instead of dealing with the overwhelming pain cramming itself down the veins of my forearms, ripping through the vessels of blood at the tips of my fingers with every bad thing that happened in my life. 

If I could walk around with a sign saying 'I'm not trying to be mean, I just don't care enough', I would. People always assumed I was a piece of shit due to my inclination never to smile. However, the sign would make me more of a freak at school than I already was, and I had an inkling that I shouldn't dig myself a deeper hole than I already had. High school was hard as it was, why complicate it further?

My lack of social indulgence left me rather lonely. Not that I cared. It was easier this way-- I didn't have to pretend to be bearable to be around. I didn't have to smile, I didn't have to laugh, and I didn't have to fake anything in the world. 

However, I wasn't allowed to live peacefully on my island of isolation. Every so often, a little boat would float by the shore and ask to park by the dock for a short break, to rest from its travels and seek momentary company, despite the fact that I hadn't sought this out whatsoever. And to make matters worse, the boat would do so every day, with its voice calling louder with every passing of the sun and moon-- eventually, I had to relent. 

So here we sat, on my island of isolation, also known as the empty bleachers. Roman pulled two cigarettes out of his box and placed them between his plush lips, lighting both at the same time. It had become a ritual of sorts, where he'd approach whenever he saw me at school and sit with me in silence for a little cigarette break. When we first started running into each other like this, he would try to small-talk, but this died down when he pieced together that silence was the best for us both. 

We needed the time away from everyone, Roman probably more than I. He handed me the cigarette, and we exchanged a short nod at the other with the exchange.

Someone wise once said that you learn something new every day. Because after all this time watching his extroverted social life from afar, wondering how he had the energy for all the people around him all the time, I realized there was only one other person in the world that understood the wish to surrender of a full-body shutdown as well as I did-- and that was Roman Godfrey. 

And that was why he sat here with me, smoking in silence.

Still, after all this time, I never knew why he sought me out. Why he had approached at all the first time, and why he had chosen me. Was it maybe that he saw solace in my carefree rejection of everything and everyone? I wondered whether he wished to be like me. 

And I wondered whether he knew that I wished to be like him.

I loved to watch the way Roman inhaled the first drag of his cigarette-- it was always with a small moan followed by his eyes closing, his legs spreading out on his seat, and a nod to himself. Like he had been waiting for a new hit for years. Because whenever I watched him and his ritualistic ways, I felt specks of something. The only something that didn't hurt, and didn't feel like my arms were about to rip themselves open and gush blood. 

When he didn't look, I allowed myself to smile. I could give in to it. And today, after months of sitting in silence and barely exchanging more than a few sentences about ourselves, I wanted to tell him what was on my mind. "Roman?"

He slowly opened his eyes, surprised that I had spoken. "Shit," he breathed, exhaling a ring of smoke. "You broke your vow of silence for me? I'm flattered."

I would've laughed. His tone was dead serious, yet I could see him fighting a smile. Nonetheless, I went on, but in a different direction; "Do you think we're friends?" I asked, inhaling another drag of smoke.

Roman stilled, watching me. He was surely trying to calculate the way this conversation was going, or what I was trying to get at. Eventually, he spoke; "No,"

"No?"

"No," Roman shrugged-- "You sort of remind me of this guy I once knew, Tyler. He was at every party I was at, and he always had a stash of weed with him, so we ended up smoking it on the porch at, like, every occasion. I never knew anything about him, though, so I don't think we were friends."

"And... you don't think Tyler thought you were friends?"

It looked like Roman hadn't thought about that. "I don't think he ever cared," he mumbled. "And I didn't think you did either."

I nodded to myself as I exhaled the smoke, unsure whether to keep his gaze or look away. I was scared I'd start feeling again, with the way this convo was going. "Alright then," I said, rolling the cigarette between my fingers. 

Perplexed, Roman's brows drew together. "Would you want to be friends?"

"No,"

"... Okay?" He let out a laugh which sounded an awful lot like a huff, and he shook his head as threw the cigarette down to the floor and stomped it. "Luckily for you, you've made it to the rapid round of today's quiz." Roman turned to me, nudging my shoulder. "And I'm allowing myself to be nosy, for once. So, tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you don't want to be friends,"

It spilled past my lips easier than I thought it would; "Because you make me feel,"

A pause. It was too long. 

"Feel?" Roman looked more puzzled than before. "Feel what?"

"Just... feel. You make me feel stuff,"

"What stuff?"

"Just stuff!" I wasn't sure why it annoyed me to explain it to him. In my mind, he should've gotten it. Understood it. "It's not a particular feeling, it's just feeling in general."

Roman cleared his throat, and with his next breath, he took the cigarette between my fingers into his hand. "Ever heard of sociopaths?” he muttered, taking a drag. With the way his shoulders tensed, I couldn't make out whether he was nervous or excited. 

"I'm not a sociopath,"

"Then what the fuck do you mean?" Roman leaned in closer, yet I didn't move. Up close, his eyes were much greener, much more vibrant-- I didn't want to think about it. It made my stomach flutter. 

"You stole my cigarette..." What else was I supposed to say?

Roman stifled a laugh. "I didn't steal it. Ever heard of sharing? It stems from an emotion called caring,"

"Fuck you,"

Being so close to him was intoxicating. Stupid. Dangerous. My heart hadn't beat this fast in months-- why had I opened my mouth at all? My thoughts raced as Roman reached forward, gently placing his thumb on my bottom lip as he watched my eyes widen. A shaky breath escaped me, fanning the skin of his fingers. With a soft push that didn't meet much resistance, Roman pressed down on my lip, parting my mouth as he took a drag of my cigarette, maintaining just about the most intense eye contact I had ever had in my life. 

There was nothing I could do to move away. Not that I wanted to, anyway. So when Roman's upper lip brushed up against mine as he leaned in close, exhaling the smoke into my mouth, I was sure my heart would jump out of my chest, up my throat, and leap right at him. 

Even after I inhaled the substance, Roman didn't move away. My mind was buzzing, wondering what to do, whether to say something, whether to ask what was going on-- all I knew, was that I had enjoyed the first physical contact I'd had with another human in a while. 

"I've always wondered what it must be like to be a sociopath," Roman whispered against my lips, his thumb leaving my skin. "Do tell."

The more flustered I became, the more my cheeks burned. "I'm not a sociopath,"

"What are you, then?"

"Exhausted," I breathed. "Do you know how tiring it is to feel?"

Roman let out a huff, a laugh, as he let the cigarette burn out between his fingers. "It can be exhausting if you're feeling all the wrong things, sure. But if the feelings are good..." His voice lowered as his nose nudged mine with a teasing touch, and I could feel him smile against me as he heard the small hitch of my breath. "If they're good, you'll suddenly find yourself wanting to feel everything all at once." 

Everything indicated that he would kiss me. I couldn't believe it. My heart raced in my chest as air refused to leave me, and I could feel the drumming of my blood coursing through my veins in anticipation. This was a rush unlike any other. So I braced for it, stilled in my seat, made my mind accustomed to the thought--

Until I couldn't feel his breath falling against my cheek anymore. Until all I felt was the cold breeze of the air brushing a strand of hair away from my face. I opened my eyes only to find Roman was getting up from his seat next to me. He briefly turned to catch a glimpse of the stunned expression on my face before he gave in to a snicker. "There you go, there was my crash course," he joked. "Sorry for making you feel things again, I guess. It wasn't my intention. This was nice though." Roman motioned to the both of us-- I didn't like his tone. This felt like a goodbye. This felt like I had broken some holy contract I didn't know I had signed. "I'll leave you alone from now on, don't worry. I'll find out whether Tyler is available for cig breaks at school instead--"

I had no idea what came over me as my hand shot forward and clasped his wrist. "Don't do that,"

"Do what?" Roman was unreadable-- a part of me wondered whether he was dragging this reaction out of me on purpose. Had his skills with people brewed down to developing mastery of manipulation? 

"Did I piss you off somehow?" I tried. "Did I say something wrong?" 

Roman's brows raised in confusion. "You haven't done anything,"

"Then why are you leaving?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. "You said that you didn't want to feel anything. And since I make you feel stuff, I'm doing you a favor, no?"

Roman was a smart guy-- I had known it deep down. Still, I rose from my seat, only to be reminded of how tall he was. How handsome he was. "And what if I... want to feel?"

Silence laid itself like a thick duvet over us as we stood and stared at each other, none of us knowing when to speak or what to say.

Eventually, Roman let out a short hum as his eyes rounded out. There was an emptiness to his gaze. "I don't have any love to give," he breathed. "If that's what you're looking for, you've come to the wrong place."

That was almost nice to hear. Love would've been too grand of a start. I finally spoke; "Not that. I just... want to feel good again. I don't remember how that feels anymore," 

Roman's ears perked up. "Oh?" The corners of his mouth curved into a look I couldn't decipher. It was somewhere between intrigue and calculated success; 

"Well... I could make you feel real good, that's for sure."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

So... I succumbed. Not everything had to be a fight, at the end of the day. 

I succumbed in a secluded part of the school library, a section Roman said nobody ever came to. He had led me down a path of stairs, past the archeology section and the biographies of famous mathematicians, and into the far corner of the philosophy area. 

It was there that he had finally kissed me, finally pulled me in by my waist, and led my back against the wall next to a whole row of books about Platon-- and it was there that he put his large hand beneath my skirt and pressed the heel of his palm into my clit through my underwear, making me gasp into his mouth. 

I squirmed, my grip in his hair tightening as I pulled him closer. Roman tasted like cigarettes and smelled like expensive perfume you'd test out at an airport when you're bored at Duty Free. However, my thoughts dulled as my hips keened into his hand, against the sweet pressure, and my heart thumped harder in my chest with every brush of his lips against mine. 

"So..." Roman whispered, his cocky smirk gracing his beautiful face. "Feeling anything yet?"

Bastard. He knew damn well. "Yeah-- Yes," 

"Good," With a rather patronizing laugh, Roman pressed kisses to the corners of my mouth. "I've waited to see you like this for so long, do you know that? Since the first time I sat next to you and you barely paid me any mind, I've wanted to see you squirm." My breath hitched as he pressed his finger into the wetness that had formed in my underwear, tapping it to test the slick. His lips brushed over my ear; "Should've done this earlier, hm? Relieved you a little, made you feel good?"

This was the most horrifying feeling of gratification ever. I never thought I'd be the type for this sort of behaviour, but I suppose life pushes you toward the direction you're destined to take, right? 

"Who would've thought," Roman purred, a small chuckle building in his chest. "And here I thought you were one of those people that don't even get horny. Bet you're the type to lay in bed and get off when you're bored." 

My cheeks burned. Burned. "N-No--"

"No? Aw, you're still fighting," And just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, Roman pulled my panties aside and eased a finger into me. I couldn't meet his eyes anymore as my hands gave into a tremble, and I clutched the fabric of his shirt as I hid my face in his chest. 

"Tell me, then," Roman whispered, reaching his free hand into the hair at the nape of my neck to pull me away from him. He dragged my head back, forcing me to look up at him as he pressed himself further up against me, cornering me as he pushed my back harder into the wall. I was panting against his lips at this point, feeling him curl his finger into my sweet spot like he had done this a thousand times before-- he probably had, anyway. I hated the jealousy that coursed through my veins, one of the emotions I hadn't allowed myself to feel in ages. He spoke with a smug grin; "Tell me what you're feeling, you little psycho."

That would've earned him a snicker, had I not been in such a compromising position. "Good," I breathed, finding his green eyes. "Feels-- Feels n-nice."

"Nice? Only nice?" Roman tsked, shaking his head. "That's not enough." And with that, he eased another finger into me, which only had me gripping his shirt harder. Being filled by Roman's fingers like this, knowing we could be walked in on at any moment, made my whole body burn with adrenaline. "Ro--"

"How many times have you thought about this when we've been smoking, huh? Don't tell me you've been wishing I'd do this shit this whole time?" Roman pressed a kiss to my ear as his fingers stroked into me, pressing into my sweet spot with a gentle rubbing-motion. 

I could only shake my head. That was the truth. I hadn't ever allowed myself to think about him like that to spare my feelings. I know I'd have been squirming in my seat, staring at the way his hair always fell over his eyes, and the way his broad shoulders sunk in pleasure with every inhale of nicotine, if I had allowed myself to think those thoughts.

"No?" he cooed, feigning disappointment with a pout. The way he was almost mocking me made my stomach flutter-- or was that his fingers? "Well, I have. Many times. I've always wondered if it'd make you talk or shut down more. Or mostly, I wondered how you'd look if I did--" Roman placed his thumb on my clit, and the added stimulation only made my eyes water with pleasure as my hips bucked into his hand once more. "This."

"Fuck--" I hissed, leaning forward to kiss his neck. If Roman wasn't going to make it easy for me, I had to shut myself up somehow. Now more than ever, his perfume was prevalent. 

He let out a small sigh of pleasure as the thrusts of his fingers grew harder, not paying any mind to the way my knees gave into a slight tremble. "God, wouldn't it be bad if we were caught right now?" he said with a laugh. "You wouldn't be known as the quiet one anymore, that's for sure." Roman pulled me away from his neck with the hand he had in my hair and scanned the look on my face. My eyes glossed over as I drowned out my moans with heavy breaths; "Fuck-- Fuck you!"

"Is that how you talk to your friends?" Roman cooed, leaning down to press a short kiss to my lips, the soft pillows of his mouth pushing me into submission. "Cause wasn't it friends you wanted us to be, hm?" 

I couldn't answer. Not when his tone made me clench around the stretch of his fingers, not when he looked this good, not when he talked to me this way. "N-No,"

"No?" 

"No!"

"What, then? Best friends?"

If I could punch him, I would. Yet I only managed to gather the strength to suppress another moan, feeling my high creep up on me faster than ever before. It was almost embarrassing how fast I was about to cum on Roman's fingers in the fucking school library. He was making a wreck of me. "Wait, I-- no, fuck, I might--"

"Ulta-mega-best-friends?" Roman only giggled as his unrelenting pace continued. "Fuck-friends would probably serve us both the most, though, hm?"

"Okay, s-sure--"

"Don't you think?"

I let go of his shirt as my body keened against his fingers, sinking down a little against the wall as I squeezed my eyes shut. The pooling feeling of arousal in my stomach made me tense up, and I prayed I wouldn't collapse to my knees-- I hadn't had a standing orgasm before. How did that even work? "Yeah," I cried. "That-- That sounds good."

Roman kissed me again as a reward, smiling from ear to ear as my muffled moans filled the empty section of the library. I clamped down on his fingers, feeling my clit pulse against his thumb as I gave in to the strongest, most intense feeling I'd had in months. 

"That's it, feel it all," he purred, rubbing me through my orgasm. 

"Good girl."

[hecohansen31]

Hello! I don't know if you are taking requests but, if you are, could you maybe do some fluffy stuff about Bill calming someone from a anxiety attack?Just making them feel that everything it's ok and that she's not alone... I'm having a pretty bad day and I didn't started my treatment yet, so everything it's just so... loud and scary, you know? But if you're not it's ok, really. I also wanted to say that I love your work and that these stories really help go through most of my days. Take care

(A/N): Hey sweetie!

I just wanted to say that I am tremendously sad to hear that you had an anxiety attack and I hope that you are feeling slightly better or will soon and that your treatment will work out for you!

Just take a deep breath (although I know that it is difficult to say this) and just enjoy a bit of this reading!

I also wnated to apologize in advance if this sucks, I am not very good at writing for real people, since I am a bit uneasy about it, but I hope that you’ll like what I wrote, I honestly have to say that I tear up when you said that you love my work and that these stories help you go through you days, because if there is something that I want to do with these silly stories is helping you lovelies!

So I hope for the best and have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Anxiety, Anxiety Attack, Awkwardness (also the first part is basically something that my therapist taught me to relax which is couting the parts of your body which touch, which is very helpful for me).

One, your lids.

Two, your lips.

Three, your…

A sob escaped your lips making them part immediately as you moved forward.

Your lungs on fire from the long tiring session you had been having, unable to properly breath as you felt the choking sound of your throat gasping for air.

And for a moment, you thought you couldn’t have made it.

For a moment everything closed around you and your arms moved around you to shield you properly from the reality crashing down onto you.

It had been all too much: the small change in the program, the acid comment of your boss and Bill’s text about how he’d be stuck on set for another week, after he had already been gone for three months to film his newest project.

And you had been left without a slight sniff of your tall boyfriend, with his gentle hands.

He had never witnessed an anxiety attack of yours, because as cheesy as it was you were always calmer with Bill.

It had always been this way, since he had first noticed how uncomfortable you looked in that small party your friend had dragged you to.

Everybody would have been glad that they had been invited to an Hollywoodian party, but you were just worried of dropping your glass of expensive champagne against somebody.

You had stood in your angle and suddenly this handsome man was in front of you, something similar in his eyes and you swore you had seen him somewhere… you just couldn’t remember when or where.

… and then all your knowledge of the net had made you realize that in front of you there was Bill Skarsgard and obviously your first reaction had been.

“… wait you are Bill Skarsgard!” because it was obviously the best thing to shout at a celebrity, even more to one as private as him, but he had simply replied gently.

‘Ah yeah that’s me’ he had seemed at unease and a myriad of thoughts had gone through your head, each one wanting to make you run away, but he had gently offered you an hand ‘… well since you already know my name, why don’t you tell me yours?’.

You had hesitated, more out of surprise than uneasy with the beautiful man, who had simply blushed and shaken his head as he had mumbled.

‘Gosh that was… moronic of me… I shouldn’t… Alex says that they work, but …’.

‘I am (Y/N)… (Y/N) (L/N)…’ you had shot back, breathing out your answer as you stumbled through the world, holding out your hand to grip his, as his face immediately went from nervousness to shock to a sweeter smile ‘… I am just surprised that a god like you wants to speak with a mere mortal like me’.

And then you had just felt awful, but he had just laughed it off embarrassed.

‘I actually think that you are the prettiest girl in the room, so…’.

And then you had blushed softly, biting your lips as Bill led you away from the crowd on the small front porch of the house, as you sat there, talking about how awkward you both felt at this kind of things.

‘… I don’t want to make you feel bad, but I was worried you’d crush the glass in your hands…’ he had joked as you blushed, softly punching him on the shoulder, your glass now empty, helping you with a bit of liquid courage.

‘You literally used the worst pick-up line after “did it hurt when you fell from heaven”?’ you had shot back and his cheeks had also turned a pinkish shade, as you both avoided each other’s eyes, too shy to confront the other.

For a kiss you had needed a bit more of wine, but it had been worth it.

And every moment with him had been worth it.

But three months without him were already too much, although you saw him through the skype calls.

But it wasn’t simply enough.

It wasn’t enough anymore when you had just the shittiest day and everything felt like it was too much to handle for you.

Your mind rushed through the most horrible thoughts as you tried to think what Bill would say to you.

His deep voice always helping you, even more when he did that cute giggle he owned, scrunching his nose in a way that was so so adorable that you had just promised to yourself to kiss it every time it happened.

But then a shocking thought hit you.

He’d think that you were a mess if he saw you like this.

Make-up all ruined form your tears and sweat and each time you had mindlessly touched your eyes to dry the tears and rub them, meanwhile your light lipstick was smashed all over your cheeks, since as soon as you had seen a reflection of yourself you had hated the color and wanted desperately to delete it.

He wouldn’t have stayed if he had seen you like that.

Maybe it was for the better that he wouldn’t be…

“Sweetheart, I am home!”.

For a moment you had thought that your brain had finally moved its endorphins and it was starting to work to distract you from the horrible feeling of tightness in your chest.

And then you heard the door closing.

And understood that Bill was for sure at home.

You shifted closer to yourself almost wanting to hide as you moved closer to the part under the sink, thinking that if you focused enough, you’d match the bathroom floor tiles.

Enough to hide yourself from Bill.

“Sweetheart?” he seemed almost sad that you didn’t answer him, and as a loud breath escaped your mouth, you slapped an hand over your mouth, as you tried to understand if it was all an hallucination or Bill had come home, before.

You didn’t know which one would have been worse.

“… shit maybe I should have told her…she hates surprises” your heart couldn’t help but awake at his serious concern for you “… maybe she is over at Christine’s”.

You hoped desperately that he’d just convince himself of it and maybe go away, because if there was one thing you were sure, hallucination or not, was that you wouldn’t have let him see you like that.

He’d have broken up with you, for sure.

“… I’ll call her” and before you could rush in to switch off your phone, the awful first notes of ‘Daylight’ by Taylor Swift started playing.

This brought you back when Bill had mocked your music tastes and you had pretended to be hurt, but you hadn’t cared in the slightest, singing offkey as he kept on preparing your dinner, and although he wouldn’t admit it, you had heard him sing the first few lines as he was getting ready for bed.

“… babe?” he asked, curiously and again a sob left your mouth, revealing further where you were, and as fast as you could you tried your best to hide yourself turning around a you tried to reach for your phone “…hey, lovely, is anything wrong?”.

Thankfully he hadn’t opened the doors, and gently knocked scaring you as you tried to calm your heavy breathing in order for you to appear as normal as you could with ruined make-up and a face that seemed the same someone would have after their pet died.

“… ahem I was just…” ‘please don’t say anything stupid’ “… pooping”.

“Oh” you could already picture Bill’s blushing face “… sorry sorry, sweetie, I’ll wait for you in the dining room, ok?”.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” you asked as you slowly got up, knowing that confrontation wasn’t avoidable and trying to make up whether hat awful voice that told you that Bill had just come back to you to break up was true or not “… aren’t you supposed to be filming the new movie?”.

“Ahem… yeah and no” his voice always wavered as it always did when he told you an half-truth “… we wrapped up a few days ago, but I wanted to make you a surprise, because today is our anniversary”.

Shit of a fucking shit.

You weren’t worried for the gift.

You had had that ready for a month.

Sometime anxiety had its perks.

But what worried you was the fact that you had literally looked at the day and hadn’t remembered it was your anniversary.

It was also the deadline of your project, which your boss had partially rejected.

The part that you had worked on desperately and almost on your own, which had resulted in the product being a bit imprecise but… it hadn’t seemed so bad.

You couldn’t help but hate the fact that you had been so stressed to have forgotten about it all.

“… sweetie, are you still there?” asked Bill from the other side “…or did the toilet seat swallow you?”

“Ahem no” although you felt that awful feeling of dreadful tightness in your lungs, you still let out a soft laugh “… I just… I don’t think that we should go out, you must be jetlagged…”.

“Actually, I got a bit of sleep on the plain… so… I am ready to dance all night” he mumbled softly, as he shifted closer to the door and you couldn’t help but be almost worried that he’d open it, but he stopped “… but if you aren’t feeling well… we could stay inside, order Greek food and watch whatever awful Netflix comedy you chose”.

He was trying to make you relax, he always used that deep soothing tone and tried his best to make you laugh.

‘You always look prettier when you laugh’ he smirked as he stole a kiss from your cheerful lips ‘…you also taste sweeter’.

“Yeah, I’d like that…” you commented softly “… work has just been crazy hectic and I just… ugh… don’t think that I could celebrate properly, but… we could go out tomorrow I swear that I’ll make it up to you”.

“Of course, sweetie” his tone was so soothing that it only made you feel guilty for having forgotten about it all.

If he broke up with you, you low key deserved it.

“… do you want to talk about work?”.

‘No, I want to set my boss on fire’ you would have wanted to mumble, but simply uttered:

“… wouldn’t want to annoy you, sweetie, you probably already had a hard…”.

“I have had a hard time not having you with me” he gently replied “… I don’t think that anything would be hard enough for me, if you stand by my side”.

A moment of silence made him waver and you felt him pushing himself back, doubting whether he had done the right thing or not.

“… if you feel like talking obviously”.

“The project…” you choked out “… it didn’t go well”.

“Oh sweetie” he almost seemed ready to rush in through the door, but he stopped himself, realizing that you needed this barrier, for a bit more “… you worked so hard for it”.

“Yeah… but Tara said that it had too much imprecisions, and I mean she is right… I should have worked on it a bit more! Gosh I just…”.

And then you were stopped as Bill pushed the door open, revealing your disheveled appearance and you immediately tried to hide yourself, but it was of no use, as Bill went through any resistance you had cradling you in his strong arms, raising you as if you weighted nothing more than a flower.

Touch usually made it all worst for you, but with Bill it felt like some kind of desperately nice sweater, the one that you wore on the rainy days as you cuddled a good book and a cup of hot cocoa.

It soothed you and made you cry even more, as you let all your tension ease through him, and he cuddled you closer gently adjusting you onto the counter of the sink.

He kissed your forehead tenderly releasing your hold onto him, as you instead brought him closer, needing to feel him.

In an almost desperate way.

He was such a grounding force to you right now that you just let yourself reveal to him your deepest side, the one that turned away everyone.

Except him.

He just cooed at you softly, as he kept you in his arms, pushing aside a few strands of drenched hair, as he kissed your neck, softly, a gentle touch.

“… whatever it is, you are not at work anymore, you are in our lovely home, the one that smells of those overpriced shit candles you like so so much” it made you snort a laugh “… you are safe, you don’t have to think about it”.

“The fact is…” and you could already picture his eyes having this shade of ‘what kind of psycho are you’ “… I can’t, I am just too anxious, and it makes me overthink everything”.

But instead Bill’s eyes scanned over your face before understanding settled in them.

“… you had an anxiety attack, didn’t you?”.

“I….” you breathed out all the air in your lungs “… how did you know?”.

“I have lived with you enough to know that you are a little anxious beastie” he commented softly “… you arrive always early, you always act so so stressed with deadlines, you panic badly if I leave you out to a party… I know that some things make you like that…”.

“And it doesn’t bother you?”.

“No” his breath was soft, and it hit your face in a way that warmed your cheeks “… I just… I just want to help you if I can”.

Everybody at this point always left you, no matter how much you promised to keep it under control or to change.

Nobody had ever asked to know how to make you feel better.

“Can… can you get my make-up remover…?” he stood a minute trying to internalize your phrase “… it is making my skin itch…”.

“Of course” and he turned, before sending you a quick look “…wait where is it?”.

And there it was your dorky boyfriend.

You just let out a laugh and told him where he could find it.

A few minutes and a Bill’s shirt later, you were indeed waiting for Greek food as you browsed through Netflix, and Bill joked about you rewatching ‘Hemlock Grove’.

‘… babe you can’t use your celebrity status to impress me, I have seen you in boxers with pigeons’.

‘Pigeons are cute’ he had mumbled as he had set beside you, pushing your head on his chest.

You had told him that his faint heartbeat was the perfect cure for your overworked body ‘… and I know that you are just nervous because you blush so so fucking much when Roman is on’.

‘… just because he is a dork’.

‘A sexy dork’.

‘Didn’t know you were a narcissist’.

And like that you quickly discarded your little banter in a more silent contemplation as you finally felt… at peace, calm, although you were mostly sweeping all your worry under your mug.

But with Bill you felt better, as he softly handled you, kissing you with the gentlest of touches, but not treating you as frail doll or looking at you like he was worried, he just had this natural nurturing way that made him so damnably sexy.

It made you bite your lips.

And it didn’t pass unobserved by him.

“… you, big cutie” he mumbled, a laughter making his chest raise softly “…stop being the most beautiful girl on Earth”.

As much as you loved silly Billy, you felt the need to set a few things straight.

“I am sorry for hiding it… all from you” you lowered your eyes, this time biting your lower lip for nervousness “… it is just…”.

“It’s ok” he spoke as if it was the most natural of things, as if you hadn’t just broken down as a mess in front of him “… I knew it… I mean I had my thoughts, but these are personal things, I wanted to wait for you to feel comfortable”:

“I didn’t want to hide it! It isn’t because I don’t trust you…”.

“I know” again that soothing tone, it made everything better, you swore it could cure world’s hunger “… I know that people didn’t make it easy for you, so I’ll make it as easy as I can”.

And with that he pulled you to look at him in the eyes, something that was difficult for you in that moment, overwhelmed by your senses.

But you pushed through, because you knew that whenever he needed to tell you something important, he needed to have your eyes in his, to make you know that he wasn’t lying to you.

“… when you need me, I don’t care if I am busy with shooting a movie or in the bathroom, pooping…” you smirked lightly “… you come to me and tell me what is happening and when you feel a bit better we can discuss what helps you and what I can do…”.

“Bill… I am sorry but I don’t want to bother you…”.

That was the wrong thing to say, because although Bill didn’t attack you, he stiffened lightly and grabbed your hands gently, turning them and bringing one and then the other to kiss your inner wrists.

“… you, little one, are never ever a bother” he spoke each word dauntingly meaningful “… you are the most precious things I have ever had in my life, anxiety included”.

“We are kind of package deal” you mumbled an awkward smile on your face.

“Then I got lucky, two for one” he joked, and you finally let out a soft laugh, punching him on his shoulder.

“You are a fucking idiot, my friend”.

“Don’t hit me, it’ll cost you, I am a miracle of nature”.

“Whatever you say Pennywise, the dancing clown”.

“Oh, don’t get me started”.

And as the tickling war started, the glimmering ring in Bill’s jacket just waited the right time.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow would have been a better day.

[lonewolfwriting89]

GAMES WE PLAY

Vincent De Gramont “Marquis” x Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Smut.

A/N: Just a short little smutty drabble, saw John Wick 4 not long ago and yeah, I was suitably distracted. Anyways, another venture into another fandom! I hope you enjoy 😘 xoxo

————

Rejoining the conversation you stayed close to him, his arm around you as though you’d been that way all your lives. You waited until he was engrossed in conversation with a member of the High Table and then caught his eyes. Running your tongue over your lips, you smiled and his words faltered ever so slightly. Knowing you were having the effect you wanted you purposely ate slowly, eyes locked to Vincent’s. Soon his face was slightly flushed and he was clearing his throat. When you were sure you had his attention you drew the edge of your champagne glass down your throat letting it trail over your cleavage lightly before setting it down. His eyes followed the path of the glass with a predatory gaze and you excused yourself to the others.

Turning to whisper to him softly before standing you said huskily against his ear, “I want you inside me..now”.

Vincent sat upright in his chair and you laid a hand on his suit covered shoulder smiling softly as you stood and moved toward the corridor. You thought he would wait, give it a moment so it was less conspicuous and perhaps meet you there but before you could get through the door you felt his hand on the small of your back guiding you from the dining room firmly. No sooner had the door closed he turned, his body pinning you against them.

You smiled slowly in triumph and he arched a perfectly shaped brow. Gripping your wrist he turned and looked around almost desperately. You tried to suppress the laugh but it escaped and he growled tugging you down the hallway toward the first door he saw. You found yourself in a large butlers pantry, forced against the cool wall. His thigh pressed between yours lifted you onto your toes as his hands gripped your wrists pinning them to the wall. You could barely breath and the uncontrolled lust in his eyes was reflected in yours.

“You know I don’t like your little games chéri”.

You smirked, “Your actions say otherwise”.

Vincent took your mouth roughly. Desire like a demand as his tongue parted your lips fiercely. You met his need with your own, heated and urgent as your tongues explored and coaxed the flames higher between you both. Your hands went to his hair, curling into the blonde silken strands. Fingers gripping lightly as you felt him lift you off the floor swiftly. His hands moved up over your ass, drawing your skirt up around your waist to free your legs. He didn't take the time to remove the lacy thong, forcing it aside as you felt his long fingers bury themselves deep inside you for the second time that night.

Gasping you moaned, head falling back as his mouth moved lower over your throat, biting as he went, seizing your nipple through the silk. One arm wrapped around the small of your back like steel, the other hand working between your legs till yoi felt him shudder and moan unable to wait any longer. You reached down between you both, loosening his pants, drawing him free of them, your fingers encircling his thick shaft as you brought his other hand up to your mouth, sucking your taste from his fingers.

His eyes met yours and for a moment you heard his breath catch in his throat. Then he was inside you, no teasing no coaxing, one thrust buried to the hilt. You cried out in pleasure and wrapped your legs around his hips, arching your back to force him deeper. He laid his head in the crook of your neck and drove into you relentlessly, groaning as you tightened around him in response.

Your hips bucked wildly to meet his thrusts, hands moving down to his neck, aching to touch his skin but you were both too far gone. Lost in the sea of euphoric pleasure. Like a raging fire it consumed you both and you felt him surge inside you. He cupped your face bringing your eyes level with his and whispered gruffly, "Regarde moi".

Doing as Vincent commanded, you opened your eyes, trying to focus, your whole being alight and ready to flame. He met your eyes, holding your gaze and you saw his smile broaden as he watched you orgasm. You shuddered, tensing with a soft cry and felt him flood into you with a force that took your breath. Clinging and shuddering he held you so tightly you couldn't breathe properly. The room spiralled as you gave him your weight, still spasming around his cock tightly.

He set you on the floor supporting you with his body till your legs would hold you upright again. Leaning down he kissed you slowly, lingering as his hands smoothed your skirt back into place. Whispering against your temple his words brought you back from the warm tingly place you were dwelling.

“Don’t think that’s the end of it chéri”.

————

[stranger-nightmare]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 | 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐲

requested by 🎸😈anon

A/N: Roman Godfrey and blood kink? did you mean the literal most perfect pairing ever?? ugh this was so much fun to write, thank you sm for the request darling! I hope you like it

The smirk that adorned Roman’s face was deadly. The twist of his lips, the tilt of his head, the darkness in his eyes; it all had you weak in the knees. It left a flutter in your stomach that radiated through to your groin.

And Roman knew it.

But more than that he knew what it was that was really turning you on: the blood that leaked from his nose.

He’d known the moment your eyes strayed for a little too long to admire his lips as the crimson waterfall coated them. He’d known from the way you’d hitched a breath and bit your lip.

All signs you were anything but concerned about the fact he was bleeding. All signs that you were, in fact, aroused by it.

“You want a taste?” Roman hums darkly, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, staining the tip of his tongue red with his own blood.

Your mouth hangs open with a silent reply. But Roman doesn’t wait for your answer. He grabs you by the back of the neck and slams his mouth down onto yours. Your whimper is lost in his mouth as he swiftly moves to open your lips with his own. His tongue quickly pushes into your mouth, coating your own with the tang of his blood.

You can’t help the moan that reverberates through you as your senses are overwhelmed by the small and taste of him, the feel of his body pushed flush against yours, his hand cupping your nape so tight it almost hurt. All the while his nose was still bleeding, the droplets landing on your lips as they continued to move against his.

You gasp and whimper pathetically when you feel Roman’s teeth sink into your bottom lip, pulling lightly as he moves back to look at you, his eyes impossibly dark and lust blown. His smirk grows as he quickly darts his tongue out to swipe across your bottom lip now, tasting the blood he’d just drawn. You instinctively do the same just after, hissing as you feel the sting of your torn skin.

Roman just chuckles darkly before latching his lips back onto yours, your mouths flooding with a mixture of both your bloods. Your body instinctively start to curve into him as he devours you with his hungry kiss. One of his hands holds you in place, splaying across your lower back, whilst his other hand crept up under your skirt. He wastes almost on time in letting his fingers tug your panties to the side so he could reach where you were already dripping and aching for him.

“Fuck baby,” he hisses against your mouth as his fingers rub between your folds. “You’re this wet over the taste of blood?” He teases darkly before winking and adding; “maybe you’re the upir...”

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

[creator-of-stories]

~ Surprise ~

Reader x Roman Godfrey

AU Hemlock Grove

Small Drabble

Trigger warning ; bad language.

Summary - After befriending Roman’s sister, Shelley, you decide to give her frequent visits, despite the fact that you also had a small crush on Godfrey, but whilst you enjoyed their company so much, you didn't know at all what was coming your way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ x ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always felt like a burden when visiting Godfrey's home, and yet the only ever reason you visited really was for Shelley. To comfort her, be her balm and her friend. Amongst the painful regret of liking Roman Godfrey - He was insufferable, pig headed to be around, especially when he would come home from work and throw out all of his stress by acting so fucking bitter, along with opening a brand new bottle of wine to intoxicate himself and flood thoughts of the day away.

This wasn't all the time - most days were good, but it was the days where thing's didn't go according to plan that you would leave and go home, or simply hide within one of Roman's luxurious bedrooms.

You didn't even know why you were so damn scared - Maybe it was his intimidating demeanour, his looming six foot three height, his predatory eyes that would absorb you all every time you glanced over his way whilst being with his sister, the laughs you let slip with her had always fixated his attention... to you.

Shelley had been a saviour, to not only everyone, but yourself - The anxieties would flow away when being around her, and throughout the months that passed, she had become better at her speech, at conversing with people and damn right saying exactly what she wanted, in which you always praised and motivated her for it. She moved in with Roman and had invited you round most weekends, until this night had become...somewhat special.

"There you go!" You beamed, hands finally finishing the braid you made in Shelley's raven hair, the reaction she reciprocated you with, was priceless. And her she had taken a moment to process as she had admired her hair in the mirror.

"Thankyou Y/N" She spoke, meekly, cotton wrapped hands slowly stroking at the beautiful style you had made. Watching her eyes sparkle that reflected the dim lit lamp upon her bedside table. "Let's show Roman" Her excitement always had gotten the better of her, yet you knew Godfrey would always show kindness, patience and sentiment towards his sister, so this was probably an okay time.

Making way down the marbled stairs, You didn't know if the Upir had crawled into bed, or if he was still lingering with a beverage within the open kitchen, to Shelley's luck, he was exactly doing the latter.

"Roman!! Look what Y/N did" She exclaimed, twirling around with a euphoric smile that had plastered her soft features.

Godfrey had let out a small chuckle upon her introduction, and her excitement, admiring her hair before letting his slender hand gently stroke up at her arm "It's great Shell" He replied, taking in the way she had been so happy around you both. His eyes trailed from her hair, to now you - The smile still had remained though, which was better than the calculating ones.

"Thanks for doing all this" He muttered, hoping to make this moment seem intimate between you and him. "-Thing's have been rough with work and I get that I can be a pain in the balls to come home to and shit" He added, inhaling deeply before he motioned to Shelley.

"But seeing Shell this happy, makes me feel ten times fucking better. It's made a huge change having you in her life and all" His words seemed to make your expression softened, as though instead of treading on egg shells, you were resting upon feathers. It felt nice...

"Thanks Roman. It means a lot. And I hope you know it makes me all the more happy to keep her this way, to bring sunshine on the bad days, and on the good" You replied, not knowing what to say but the truth, you were too oblivious from sharing Shelley's excitement that you only just felt the heat flush to your cheeks, but before you realised you were gawking for far too long, you cleared your throat and simply reached to stroke Shelley on her arm.

"Hey shell? I've...got to go now. I'll visit again same time next weekend, or if it's okay with Roman? Tomorrow?" You asked, though you felt like you should of bit your tongue with that last bit. But his features didn't change, didn't drop or grimace, he simply nodded and folded his arms - That calculating stare was thrown in your direction again.

"Probably don't even have to do that" Came his reply, in which Shelley seemed just as confused as you.

"Sorry?" You canted your head at him.

"If it's alright with you, and by the looks of things, it's definitely okay with me and Shell, but you can go and pick a room..." Roman added, his sincerity was still in his voice but you didn't know if you were on the right track. Shelley gasped and held in more of her happiness, cheeks flushing the same colour as yours.

"Sleep over? I mean...Sure. It would be amazing. Only if I didn't impose and all on you Godfrey" You slightly teased him towards the end, but a small laugh that escaped your lips, something still didn't seem right within his expression.

He looked somewhat, amused.

"Not a sleepover no. I mean you can fucking live here. Pick a spare room, it's yours." He stated, wavering his hand and indicating to the rooms located upstairs, above him.

"Got way too many of them anyway" The smile that had spread across his sister's face couldn't of gotten any wider, it's like she was about to explode, as for you? You had to surely take a few days to process it all.

"It would be good company for Shell. And for me, I guess..."

That's when you knew. That not only Roman Godfrey could share some of his heart, but also throw the best surprise ever.