#except when they have to seem put together to pull off some crimes.

[returnofnonya]

From Thief to House Husband Part 2

In just 3 days I had grown attached to my new life. I had literally billions of dollars to spend, a mansion to explore, luxury cars to drive, and a wife who seemed to be gone quite often. Two of “my” sons were constantly out and about making friends and hanging out with them.

There was only one problem; Adam.

The eldest son of the Smith fortune. It appeared that he peaked in high school, and didn’t attend college. He spent his mornings in his gym and the rest of the day lazing about at home and inviting his so-called friends over. Rick may not have been able to see it, but as someone who used to rely on flirting with men who looked like they had more than $50 in their pockets, I knew a gold digger when I saw one.

Adam’s constant presence in the house meant I couldn’t have special company over, and I had to rely on the memory of sex with Ajax, a name I had learned a whole day after I let him fuck me. I kept wondering how I was supposed to work around this issue, then I remembered my special case of possession vials, and a good friend of mine who would enjoy the life of luxury.

So I got some cash and went to the local county jail, putting on my best remorseful face. I told the police that I was so regretful that my actions sent a shoplifter into cardiac arrest, causing his death. (I had learned soon after the hookup that my body passed away without anyone to inhabit it). I explained that the arresting officer had mentioned the hoodlum had a friend he often committed these crimes together with and wanted to help him find a better path in life, so I paid my friend Roy’s bail.

I waited outside of the entrance, sitting on the hood of my new Mercedes with a smirk on my face as Roy walked out, looking more puzzled than ever. “Look bro, I don’t need pity. Especially not from the guy who killed Mateo.” He stepped towards me angrily and I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “Since when did the wealthy ever give a damn about us, Roy? Maybe those possession vials were worth something after all.” I winked and then walked around the car, getting into the driver’s side. I enjoyed the dumbfounded look on his face and smugly asked, “You getting in or did you want to hang around in that cell a bit more?” He scuffled into the car and we got going.

Before he could ask his barrage of questions I answered, “This basic looking bitch caught me shoplifting at Norm’s. I knew it would be my felony offense, so I panicked and pulled the vial out while concentrating on him. Next thing I knew, I was Rick Smith, multibillionaire and house husband. No more stares when I’m in any store but Dollar Tree, people worship the ground I walk on now! But I need your help.” He just grinned dumbly and nodded. “Anything for you, hermano. The billions are just a nice perk.” We both laughed a bit before I decided it was time to get serious again.

“He’s got three sons, all adults now. His oldest is Adam, about 24. The other two are social butterflies, rarely in the house except to sleep nowadays. Adam though, he treats the house like it’s his palace and invites a bunch of his fake friends over all the time. Total peaked in high school type guy. An easy mark in my old body, but now that he’s my son he’s preventing me from…enjoying this body to its fullest extent.” Roy raised an eyebrow at this. “And how am I supposed to help? Fake date him or something?” I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Again, rich white kid who peaked in high school. He wouldn’t be caught dead with you, no. Fortunately I’ve still got a few vials, if you catch my drift.” A wide smirk crept across Roy’s face. “Yeah, yeah I do Dad.”

Soon enough, everything was in position. Roy was hiding in the kitchen pantry while Adam’s moocher friends were finally leaving. I pretended to be washing some dishes when Adam approached, throwing the plan off course a bit since I was just going to have Roy stealthily take over once the friends were gone. “Hey Dad, can we talk?” He asked, forcing me to put on Rick’s stupid smile. “Of course kiddo, what’s up?”

“You’ve been acting kind of…off lately?”

Oh boy…

“What do you mean?”

“You worship mom, but you forgot her name the other day. And you’re not as nice to my friends, or..us. You seem distant kind of. Plus, maybe I’m just paranoid, but I feel like your smile has been different lately.”

Fuck. I knew his dumb goody two shoes smile was important, so I practiced Rick’s smile based on his photos a lot. Guess I hasn’t gotten it down perfectly. Wait, why am I worried? Adam won’t exist in a few seconds.

“To be perfectly honest with you, loser, I’m not your Dad. I’m Mateo, the shoplifter who mysteriously died a few days ago.” I smirked, Adam’s eyes widening with fear as he backed away. “W-what? Dad, this is a weird joke.” I just laughed, stepping closer to him. “This isn’t a joke. I tried pretending to give a fuck about you, but your constant couch mooching has gotten on my last nerve. I’m trying to have some guys over to break your dad in, and I can’t do that with a witness! That’s why I bailed my hermano, or should I say, hijo, Roy out of prison today. He’s going to use the same serum I used to steal your dad’s body to steal yours. Then no one will know that you both are gone.”

Adam’s eyes darted all over the place, trying to find Roy. The cabinet creaked open and he saw Roy’s eyes for just a second before he faded to black. Roy had consumed the vial, and by the time Adam saw him it was too late, the possession was complete. He laughed and smiled widely, looking down at his new hands. “Holy shit! This body feels amazing! So fit and tight…” he started to grope Adam’s tits, moaning out in pleasure. “Heh, enjoy it son. I’ve got to get rid of the evidence, feel free to explore your new life in the meantime.”

I picked up Roy’s now vacant body, carrying it to a box we had designated out in the pool house in the backyard. It would stay there until we figured out a disposal method.

I came back in a few minutes later and found Roy standing in the living room, wearing Adam’s old football gear with a wide smirk.

“Hey, Dad.” He said seductively, walking to me now. “I wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done for me.” He said and grinned from ear to ear. I couldn’t help but find myself enamored with his getup. “How…where?” He just chuckled as he unbuttoned my shirt. “When you said he peaked in high school, my mind wandered to one thing. Thankfully, my assumption was right.” He said, kissing my neck and pulling my shirt open, slowly descending down my body, littering it with kisses and earning pleasured moans from me. “Fuck…I couldn’t be happier to have you for a son.” I chuckled, watching as he got down on his knees and pulled my cock out, wasting no time and sliding it into his mouth. “Fuck! Boy’s got a perfect set of lips~” I moaned out happily.

It was hard, but I tore my eyes away from Roy’s new ones to look at my surroundings. We were in the kitchen, which according to Rick’s photo album was likely his favorite spot to spend family time. He was quite the chef and apparently had made the candy the security guard was stuffing his face with the day of the possession. Now, his oldest son was blowing him off right there.

“God…tell me you stretched yourself while I was gone. I don’t want to wait to bust that pretty little straight hole open.” I said, looking back into Roy’s eyes. He just winked and then moaned on my cock, clouding my mind with the pleasure. “God fucking damn you’re such a slut…” I moaned out. Once he felt that I had enough spit he stood up, laying on his back on the kitchen table and pulling his compression pants down to reveal a white jockstrap, and a plug vibrating in his hole! “For one of his gold digger girls. A cheesy present from a straight fuck boy apparently, but we’re making it work for us.” Roy always cased every place we stole from. He could read people and environments very well, no one would know Adam was gone.

“Fuck, I could kiss you.” I growled, grabbing the base of the plug and pulling it out, earning a whimpery moan from him. “How about we do that first part first? Then we can kiss.” His smug expression looked perfect on Adam’s face. I wasted no time, pulling his legs over my shoulder and waist over the edge of the table. I slid into him with ease, leaning down and pressing my lips against his. He reciprocated with joy and I started to thrust the way I knew he loved it; hard and fast.

The sound of our skin slapping filled the kitchen and our tongues ravaged each other inside of his mouth, our moans muffled inside of them. It didn’t take long for sweat to build up, I was giving it my all and he was taking it like a pro, his body’s previous owner had built it for endurance. As we fucked the table wobbled underneath us, not built for the ferocity of our sex. Everything about this was so fucking hot that both of us were throbbing quickly.

I pulled back from the kiss, caressing his eyes and smirking. “We’ll have to work on these bodies’ sexual stamina. I think that’s a good way to spend father and son time together.” I chuckled as he nodded. “Couldn’t agree more. In the meantime, how about you show me the way you and mom made me?” He winked. God, seeing Adam’s face portray Roy’s demeanor drove me crazy. I thrusted one final time, roaring as I shot a load deep inside of him and the table gave out, collapsing underneath us as Roy shot his load high up into the air. As we reached the ground it arched, landing on the top of my head.

Once we had a second to gather our bearings and realize we just broke the dinner table and he had cum on the back of my head in a missionary position we started laughing. “Fuck, no more shoplifting, no more gold digging.” He said, panting as he looked around at the mansion.

“Life is perfect.” I said, smiling widely as I basked in the afterglow of our first father and son bonding session. “It’s all uphill from here.”

[barbarianbookhoe]

Prologue

It was a magic that came long before the Grisha, before the Darkling, something so ancient that it could never be learned.

Some say it was born along with the legends of the Saints, a knowledge that became forgotten after the Fold tore Ravka in two. Some say it was a magic so dark that not even Hell would be able to accept it. And some say, that those who were able to witness its potential, firmly believed that no human should ever be born with that kind of power.

Changing your nature and shape within seconds, forming a beast out of your own bones, tearing your skin and flesh apart only to pull it back together into some creature out of a nightmare, then turning back to human and laughing, smiling, like you are not something out of another world.

People feared the shapeshifters almost as much as the shadow summoners, and even before he became the Darkling and made the Fold, he felt a kind of nerve creep up on his spine at the mere mention of their kind. Especially when it was about the family that lived only a few miles from Os Alta. It was only a strange coincidence when he unleashed his power and made the Fold, that the family had been traveling to Os Kervo to visit the other half of the family. They had been turned into vile creatures, Volcras.

But that still wasn't as much worse as what waited for the family that stayed in Os Alta. An aunt, her son, and her two nieces. They didn't stay long after the news of the Fold reached them. They packed every essential and escaped during te cold winter night, thankful for the shadows and the snow. But luck was not on their side for long. Grisha men, sent by the Darkling himself found them as soon as they left the city. All of them died that night, except one of the nieces. Her aunt told the kids to shift into an animal, but sadly none of them got the proper training yet, except that niece who was only a year older than the rest. She quickly changed into an owl and flew away. The men mistook her for the bird, so they let her go. She watched the remains of her family burn, until there was nothing but ashes of them left. The screams she heard that night would haunt her for the rest of her life.

After the incident, she flew to Os Kervo, to the other part of the family that she hoped would still be alive. Hopefully, she found them, but after a few days, they were on the run again. They need to take a ship and separate. Some wanted to go to Novyi Zem, to the countryside, others to Shu Han and Kerch. The niece wanted to go with her two other cousins to Kerch Island, dreaming about a life where she wouldn't have to run ever again. Her luck seemed to finally leave her side, when upon arriving to the ship, the Darkling captured her and her family.

They were prisoners for crimes that didn't even exist, thrown in dark cells with no light and no food, slavers to the Darkling's twisted mind, people to experiment on even after multiple failed tests. Their life from then on consisted of nothing but pain and torture. The days turned into weeks, months and years, but it all seemed one endless moment for them. No one knew what happened between the walls of that prison they called a laboratory. Their blood were taken, injected with drugs and put back in their system, their bones got cut off just so they can order them to grow it back and cut it off again.

Death would have been a blessing. And every time they felt its dark claws slowly pull them into the depths, they got taken care of, cured, only for the experiments to go on. The Darkling didn't let them live, so why would he let them die? Especially after he found out shapeshifters can live for centuries, just like the Grisha?

The torture went on for at least a century, before one of the young guards had the chance to help them escape. He tried rescuing all of them, but they told him to take the women first. They would have told him to take the children too, but those little kids were now grown-ups. The guard did what they asked and helped the women escape. It was the dead of night and no one asked him how he got the other guards unconscious, they were just relieved that they could finally leave.

The niece was yet again one of the only ones left.

The guard took them to a carriage that was waiting for them to go to the harbor. When he came up with the men, a shot rang in the air, and the man he was carrying collapsed on the ground, with blood pooling around his head. They wanted to shapeshift, but everyone was still tired and weak from the imprisonment.

Six women and eight men escaped the laboratory. By the time they got to the harbor, only four of them were left.

The niece who escaped from Os Alta, her two cousins, and her uncle. They all watched as their family got killed in front of their eyes, and they all felt guilty for not being able to help them. They were all exhausted, hungry, and hopeless. They tried to keep their loved ones from bleeding to death, but each time they failed. The blood still stained their hands, under the warm fabric the guard gave them.

He knew he couldn't stay and that he had to give up his life in Ravka, but it didn't feel like a mistake for him. He got to free these poor people, and someday they might be able to expose the Darkling's sick secret. If they let him help.

The five of them got on board, and after the guard let them into one of the rooms on deck, he only asked them one question:

"Where do you want to go?"

Four heads turned to him in shock. They expected him to just leave them in the harbor, or sell them once they were on board. He didn't. He told them the ship docks in Shu Han, before it makes its way to Ketterdam, and later to Novyi Zem. The two cousins decided to go to Shu Han. When they docked, the young guard gave them some money and a piece of paper, with a cheap inn's address on it. In the last minute, the uncle decided to stay with them for a while, wanting to protect them while they made a new life for themselves. The niece wanted to stay with her family, she didn't want to be alone, but the thought of a new life was something that she couldn't give up. And the fact that whenever she looked at them she could only see the lifeless bodies staring back at her, making her stomach turn and bile rise up in her throat. It was a feeling she didn't want to experience in her family's company. So she bid them goodbye and got on the ship to sail to Novyi Zem.

In the next few weeks, she and the young guard got closer. They wouldn't have called it anything romantic, but both of them felt like they found a great friend in the other. The guard constantly teased the girl with all kinds of knowledge, and she listened. She never spoke to him about anything. But in the few rare moments she did, he drank her words like they were the first sip of water after walking through a desert.

And after docking in Novyi Zem, they moved to the countryside, slowly getting accustomed to each other, living together and painfully slowly falling in love with each other. The girl would never admit it, but she was the first to fall.

They had two children: a son and a daughter. Both healthy and strong, happy kids. As time passed, it started to become noticeable, that only the son had the abilities of a shapeshifter. In Shu Han with the two cousins, one of them had three kids and only two of them had the ability, with the other cousin and her two kids-only one of them. With the uncle, it was his only child that had no magic.

By the time Y/N Orlova was born in the morning sun in Os Kervo, the magic no longer flowed through her family's veins. It had died out generations ago.

Or at least, that's what she had been told.

Raffiel, her brother, was four years older than her, and he had already discovered the magic in himself, making requests to their mother to teach him. Their mother was one of the last remaining shapeshifters in the world, along with her two children.

And when Y/N turned four, she told her brother about the powers she had, but her brother always turned her excitement down. He didn't want to, but he also didn't want her to be disappointed by their mother, because she couldn't face her true self.

The girl turned eight, nine, and on the night of her tenth birthday, her brother sneaked them out of the house, and showed her the few things they can do with their magic. He had turned into a big brown dog, the one he knew her sister liked to pat on their way to the market. Y/N looked at him with both confusion and amazement, and when he turned back, she bombed him with questions. After he calmed her down, he told her everything he learned so far, and showed her how to do it. It took them almost all night to finally get her to transform into a cat, and it took them two hours to get her to turn back. After that night, it became a habit to sneak out every two or three days and practice. Two years and many many lessons later, they were able to shapeshift in an instant into anything (or anyone) they wanted to.

But it was also two years later, that their parents died. It was quick and harsh, and done by none other than the Darkling. He became so paranoid after the incident in the laboratory, that during the grisha's testing he also tested kids for shapeshifting. Every time the tests failed, he became more and more relaxed. Maybe it was Raffiel's fault for being out so late, maybe it was Y/N'S for begging for ten more minutes, but nonetheless, one of the patrolling Grisha guards saw them and reported it back to the Darkling. He was quite busy with finding the Sun Summoner at the time, but the news about living shapeshifters immediately caught his attention. He sent three Inferni's to their house. When the kids father saw them, he told them to go and hide behind the bushes in the garden. Y/N was old enough to understand the fear behind her father's words and silently followed her brother.

The kids sat down behind the bushes, even slightly covering themselves with it. Through the small window of the kitchen, they saw the men standing in front of their parents. They couldn't hear what they were saying, but when one of the Grishas slapped their mother, Y/N was on her feet ready to burst into the house, if Raffiel didn't pull her down in time. One of the guards looked their way through the window, but couldn't see them so he walked back to their mother, who was holding the side of her face. They saw their father grabbing the rifle from behind him and smacking it on the man's head. He collapsed on the ground while the other two throw a ball of fire on their father's arms and on the wall. The house caught on fire quickly, but their father didn't seem to care about it.

Before the two men could even take a step towards their mother, he grabbed the rifle with one hand and pushed their mother behind him, while signaling something to her. That was the first and only time Y/N and Raffiel saw their mother shapeshift. She turned into a beautiful female lion. She was so enormous that their father almost seemed small. The two Inferni took a step back, before casting fire into their hands, ready to kill their parents.

Their father fired the rifle without hesitation, while their mother sprinted to the men, trying to tore their limbs apart. Her jaw was clenched around one of the Inferni's torso, ready to bite it in half, when all of a sudden, he dug his fingers into her side, making flames dance around her skin. She immediately let go of him and stumbled back, roaring still in her lion form.

Meanwhile, Raffiel tried to muffle his sister's screams and trying to hold back his own. Tears covered his own face while his sister cried into his arms. Their house was on fire, along with their parents still inside. The two Grisha throw flames everywhere, before quickly leaving the place. After they left, Raffiel helped Y/N up from the ground and they ran to the kitchen door that led outside. When they opened it, the warmth felt almost scorching as they looked around. They found their mother in her human form, screaming so loud they had to cover their ears. Their father was crawling to her on the floor when they reached them. Their parents were dying, and they couldn't do anything about it.

When their mother saw them she stopped the screaming and began sobbing. She reached one of her burnt hands out, and both Y/N and Raffiel held it gently. She coughed a few times before looking up at them.

"You need to get out," her sweet voice was no longer sweet, it sounded dry and raspy, so much harsher than it usually was. "Raffi, I need you...to get the box under my bed-" she violently coughed and they noticed their father taking a deep breath, before continuing instead of her. "There's a bag next to it. Take that too. It's heavy, but you need to take it!" He inhaled sharply. "And promise...promise me, you won't open it, until you're in Ketterdam!" He said and Y/N looked at him with teary eyes.

"No! I won't leave without you!" She yelled, but she felt her brother slowly standing up from next to her. "No! Don't leave, we have to get them out of here!" Her brother shook his head as he cried and went to their parent's room. Y/N looked at him with disbelief, before her mother spoke up.

"Listen little bird, I need you to take care of your brother." She smiled as the tears scrolled down on her face. "You know he can't cook." She giggled for a second before coughing again, only this time blood stained her mouth. "We love you both,"

"No, no, no! Stay awake!" Y/N exclaimed as her brother came back with the bag on his shoulder and box in hand. He looked at his father and sobbed. "Why are you sending us away?"

"Because you two have something that people would kill you for, and that's your blood. Please, watch out...for the people you...trust." Their father's words became slower as he spoke. He laid his head down on their mother's shoulder, trying to keep his eyes open. Their mother looked at her children and one last time told them how much she loves them.

With a tear stained face, Raffiel led his sister out of the house before it collapsed. They watched in horror as the ceiling came down, and the house wasn't there anymore. It looked like one big campfire, that by morning will turn to ashes.

The two siblings reluctantly walked to the stable and led their only horse, Jack, out. They got onto his back and went to the city, and to the harbor and to the deck of the ship. It took hours for them to get from the countryside to the city, even with Jack. Raffiel had to redirect them because his gaze often got foggy from the tears and almost led them off the road. When they reached the market, they led their horse to one of the farmers and with a heavy heart, sold him. It took both of the siblings at least ten minutes to leave the horse behind. They bought their ticket and sailed to Ketterdam.

They didn't say a word to each other nor to anyone. Y/N was never a clingy person, especially not at twelve years old, yet she didn't let go of her brother. He didn't let go of her either. He either hugged her to himself or let his shoulder rest around her, but he always found a way to keep her close to him.

It took them a week to sail from Os Kervo to Ketterdam. When they got off the ship they immediately began walking, without glancig at anyone. Raffiel passed the bag to Y/N, to keep the box steady in his arms. Ghezen forbid someone stole it from them.

They kept walking and walking, until they reached the Financial District and stood in front of a two story house, that looked like it belong more to the countryside than the city. Raffiel knocked twice on the door and heard someone moving to open it. Their aunt's surprised face stared back at them.

"Y/N, Raffiel! What are you two doing here?" She asked but as she looked at their dirty clothes, tear stained faces and realized their parents were nowhere to be seen, she quickly put her hand on her mouth, muffling her yelp. "No. It-It can't be." She said but when she noticed what Raffiel was holding, a sob escaped her. "Oh my... I'm so sorry, kids!" She got them inside and locked the door behind them.

She led them into the small kitchen and quickly began filling the wooden table with food and drinks. She placed water and tea in front of them, along with two bowls of hot soup. They didn't even lift a finger to eat it. She didn't remove them.

They sat in silence, except the sobs and sniffles that came from them from time to time. After a long while, their aunt stood up and wiped her face with her hands. "You two sleep in my room tonight, I'll sleep in the guest room. And tomorrow...tomorrow we'll figure everything out." She sniffled and took the bag and box they brought up to her room. The siblings got up from their seats and followed her.

Their aunt brought two more blankets and some old shirts and pants for them to wear. She brought towels too, if they felt like washing themselves a little.

None of them slept that night. Y/N slowly dozed off, but Raffiel had to put her back to sleep multiple times after each time she jolted up. He didn't mind that he couldn't sleep. Taking care of her sister took his mind off their parents. And their aunt? She didn't even try to sleep. She was up all night in the guest room, trying to find a way to arrange a small funeral, figure out how to raise her niece and nephew, how to keep them safe in this city. By sunrise, she was dressed in her casual outfit, basket on her harm, and at least four list of things she'll need. She tip toed around the house not to wake the kids, though she suspected they haven't slept either. She left them a note on the kitchen table that she went to the market and she'll be back before lunch.

They spent that year in mourning. They didn't talk to each other much, but they were always there when one of them had a panic attack. They tried to work it out, tried to get out of that constant sadness, but it was like whenever they finally started to get out of it, they saw, heard, or smelled something that threw them back into a dark place.

Y/N was the first to stop crying. After about three months, she stopped crying altogether. She didn't cry, didn't sniffle, sometimes even her eyes didn't tear up. Even when their aunt got shot during a fight on the street, she didn't even tear up. Her whole face fell and shock was evident on it. But no single tear. She got used to her loved ones dying around her. Sometimes she would reply to things with a harsh, even cruel comment, and it often made Raffiel angry. They had fights almost every week, throwing words at each other that they knew they didn't mean, but in the heat of the moment it felt the opposite.

Her brother slowly started to understand her numbness towards violence. It was her way of coping with these scary things. If she won't give herself time to cry, then she wouldn't fall back into the numbness after their parents' death. Raffiel hated that his sister had to hide her vulnerability. He hated himself too, for not being able to help her anymore.

After their aunt's death, they got to keep the house, but it was just another reminder of the things they lost. It was still better than living on the street, but Raffiel figured that if they don't find a job soon, they will be. One night, he told his idea to Y/N, and they agreed that the next day they're going to go and find a job. Raffiel suggested that Y/N asks around in bars and hotels for something like a cleaning lady, or a maid. Next day they both went and asked around, and by nighttime they both found a job. Raffiel's going to be a driver for carriages, and Y/N will be cleaning at a club.

What she didn't tell to her brother though, was that she saw a girl a few years older than her at the bar, putting on her coat and leaving the club. She followed her and when the lady went through an alley, Y/N quickly grabbed her coat and took it off of her. She tried to fight back, but when she turned around there was no one there. Y/N quickly hid behind the corner with the coat still in her hands, and after the lady quickly went away, she put the coat on herself and went back to the club.

She saw the bartender looking at her with furrowed brows. "I thought you weren't gonna stay for the night shift," He said and stared at her. Y/N didn't think before she spoke up, on a voice that belonged to the lady who she just robbed. "And I won't. I came back for an afternoon drink," She said and sat down. She got drunk only once before, on her father's birthday, when she was ten years old and Raffiel managed to steal a bottle of kvas. She felt like shit the next day and her mother made her clear out the entire stable.

She got herself so drunk at the bar, that she didn't even notice that two angry men came towards her and threw her out the door, saying something about never coming back. The words sounded like they came from underwater. When she went to an alley and took her coat off, she quickly shifted back into herself and felt that the alcohol somewhat left her system. Her vision cleared a little and the noises around her didn't feel as distant. She shook her head and walked over to the club's door, when the two guards stopped her.

"You can't go in there," one of them said on a low voice, but Y/N just straightened her back and spoke confidently. "I'm in need of a job. Are you looking for someone?" She asked but the guards just laughed at her. She kept her face neutral as the answer came. "You're looking at the wrong place. This is the Crow Club, not an orphanage." Just as he said those words, a man came through the door and began complaining about the servant girl who drank herself under the table, bothering customers. Then he noticed Y/N standing there, like she was waiting for something. The man asked the guards and they told him she's looking for a job.

"How old are you?" The man asked, and Y/N looked at him confidently. "Old enough." The man's eyebrow rose at the answer. "How tall are you?" "Tall enough to kick your knees out if I have to," The guards laughed at her remark, but the man just smirked. "And what is your business here?" "I need a job, and it seems you need a servant girl. Since you're already questioning me like you'd do for a job, you can save your time and hire me now." The three men looked pissed, but the one in the middle came closer to her and glanced at her form. Yes, she was shorter than her age, and she definiely didn't look like someone who would kick your ass. Not in that skirt at least.

"We'll get you some high heels, a new dress and you'll look old enough. You're on probation, and your job consist of clearing the tables, collecting the glasses and washing them. Payment's every first week of the month. You don't talk to anyone, you don't listen to anyone, you do what I say," He told her and opened the door to get back inside. The two guards looked a little surprised at his words. "I'm going to need a name if you want to work here."

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before answering. "Eliza" "Eliza, your shift starts tomorrow morning at six bells, and ends in the afternoon at two bells. If required, you're going to clean the place too. It won't be a problem, will it?"

"Absoluetly not, sir" Y/N answered and saw the man roll his eyes. "Don't call me sir. My name is Per Haskell, but you'll call me Boss, got it?" Y/N nodded her head and the man did the same, before saying "See you in the morning."

And that night when she was laying in bed, she thought about what she just did. She robbed a woman, stole her identity and job, and probably got herself bound with a club most definitely lead by a criminal. Per Haskell seemed anything but a decent man, even though she only talked to him for two minutes at most.

The confidence she faked in front of him died down as soon as she turned her back to them. She had to keep walking or else she would've sat down and cried in one of the alleys. It was getting dark and she was afraid to stay outside at night without her brother.

But no matter how scared she was, the rush and excitement she felt during those few minutes felt amazing. She knew she should've felt guilty because of what she did, but a part of her liked it just a little too much.

She didn't stop the small smile creeping up on her lips.

[tea-cat-arts]

(Disclaimer incase some of y’all don’t have the “Honkai spoilers” and “Genshin spoilers” tags blocked: This post will contain some pretty major spoilers from both games. Also this post is more of a repeat shower thought of mine than a proper analysis)

Something I find… disappointing about Mihoyo’s writing is that it only ever seems to be people who are already in positions of power and authority who get redemption arcs, where as characters who were genuinely just forced into these terrible situations will get villainized and killed off.

Examples:

Ei, leader of a nation and a god, hunted down poor and middle class vision holders (technically a minority group) and stripped them of their will or killed them if they resisted, but the story goes out of its way to show us her grief and hardships, which are supposed to make her worthy of redemption

Dr. MEI, main leader of her era, committed way too many war crimes to list here (main one being experimenting on soldiers and sending them to their death without their consent) and defunded or distracted at least two of the leading scientists working on alternatives, but the story frames her actions as noble and a necessary sacrifice

Otto, part of a ruling lineage and leader of a government party, also committed too many war crimes to list here but we’re gonna focus on the part where he kidnapped and tortured children for science, was given a story the centered around showing us his humanity, motivations, and good intentions/ outcomes

Sirin/HoV one of said children Otto kidnapped and tortured, lashes out and attacks the ones responsible for her pain and those who defend them. Killed off

Kevin, literally just some guy pulled off the street who stepped up when nobody else would, took on a task that was way too big for him to handle, watched almost all his friends die, watched as he was powerless to stop the world from being destroyed, and went along with a desperate and incredibly dangerous plan that he hated, but thought was the only way to prevent what he already lived through from happening again. Deemed a monster that has to be killed

La Signora, a young village woman who’s lover died in a pointless war between gods, had her home destroyed, turned her body into liquid fire, and joined the side that was looking to take down the people who caused her all this pain. Presumably killed off probably not gonna stay that way though so we can come back to this one in a couple years

Some potential exceptions to this trend/ less straightforward examples:

Fu Hua and Kujou Sara (arcs handled similarly, so I’m lumping them together). Though they are both technically leaders, they aren’t by any means the one in charge. Their motivations, reasoning, and potential for redemption is established incredibly early on and the story is quick to show us that even though they’re on the bad guy team at first, they have noble intentions. They also spend the majority of their time in the story actually doing the leg work to prove they’re a good guy

Scaramouche. Though he is technically the child of a god, he’s still a parental abuse victim and the story repeatedly puts him in positions of powerlessness and servitude. He also spent the majority of his life living in poverty. Though he hasn’t exactly been redeemed for his war crimes yet, the story is giving him a chance to work for it

The grand sage. Example of a corrupt person in power we actually did get to take down. Though it should be noted that the story frames it as though that power was never rightfully his in the first place

Idk, it’s not enough for me to go and try and accuse Mihoyo of anything, nor am I trying to say that all these stories were handled poorly (and yes, I’m fully aware that a lot of my descriptions were oversimplifications of the canon). It’s just a pattern that I’m side-eying Mihoyo for. A trend that does make me straight up go “hey, Mihoyo, what the fuck-“

Why is every scientist tampering with human biology and evolution depicted as some puppy-kicking lunatic? Why does the story focus so heavily on demonizing their areas of research and acting like those are the problem, not the fact that they’re committing several OSHA violations? I know I’ve ranted about this point before, but I just find it incredibly strange

[gingerbreadmonsters]

I posted 2,211 times in 2022

That's 1,862 more posts than 2021!

559 posts created (25%)

1,652 posts reblogged (75%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gingerbreadmonsters

@sri-rachaa

@ejunkiet

@sealriously-sealrious

@slushrottweiler

I tagged 1,972 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#ginger reblogs art - 213 posts

#redacted asmr - 165 posts

#icymi <3 - 148 posts

#a cheeky timezone rb - 97 posts

#rae beloved <3 - 76 posts

#ginger speaks to anons - 69 posts

#ginger speaks to lovely blogs - 66 posts

#gingerbreadmonsters - 59 posts

#ginger writes - 42 posts

#ooh a game! - 29 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#i will most likely end up posting the same version here and on ao3 bc can you imagine reformatting the whole thing like that 😵‍💫😵‍💫

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ALL MINE

or: it’s easy to have a good time, if you don’t mind getting a little messy - all it takes is meringue, cream, and strawberries.

the long-awaited finale of LOVE HEART! gn!reader, domestic fluff to smut, absolutely and without exception minors dni. this is… a lot more explicit than i thought it was going to be - i really didn’t think i had this in me, but what @ejunkiet wants, @ejunkiet gets! i hope this does the hot boi summer aesthetic justice :) sweetheart’s a brit because i say so - it’s not necessary for the plot, but quite frankly i think it’s a crime that eton mess and trifle don’t exist in america, and this is my only way of promoting them, so there you go. @solclaw is the source of all knowledge, and i am making trifle in their honour - rowan darling there is always an extra bowl for you! 

sweetheart is gender neutral, and their anatomy is not described. milo’s skin is stated to be of an appropriate colour to show love bites, but no specific colour is mentioned and the reader’s skin is not described at all. milo being an excellent sous chef for just over 3600 words.

this fic contains explicit content, and is 18+ only. minors please do not interact with this one i am BEGGING you. thank you.

“sweetheart, you’ve, uh… you’ve got a little somethin’ just there…”

“here?”

“a little higher, to the left - no, no, your left - let me just-”

he licks his thumb and strokes it over your cheek, wiping away the stickiness as your lips pull into a very familiar smirk. christ, he knows that look, knows what it means when you run your tongue over your teeth, eyebrow cocked and head tilted to the right - it usually means that whatever you’re about to say probably isn’t fit for polite company.

“it’s not fair - how come i always get it all over my face?”

damn that mouth of yours - even when he knows it’s coming, you still get him blushing up a storm. “not my fault you’re such a messy eater, sweetheart. maybe i oughta have you wearin’ an apron next time.”

you smack lightly him in the arm with the wooden spoon, laughing at his mock-outraged expression as you go back to your cake batter. “go and get me one then, lover boy. it’s weird to hear you telling me to put on clothes, though.”

he… yeah, he doesn’t really have a comeback to that.

the two of you have been in the kitchen all morning, putting together the desserts for david’s birthday party this afternoon. it’s pretty fucking warm today, early summer and all, so you’ve got all the windows open and the fan going full blast to try and balance out the heat from the oven. both of you are sweating from the humidity, so he’s can’t really be surprised you’d forgone the apron for a little while.

david always insists that he doesn’t want anything for his birthday, but the rest of the pack - as happens every year, and’ll probably happen until the end of time - has other ideas. about a month ago, his mate had sent him off on some errand or other and got straight on a video call with you, sam, and ash’s mate to get something together.

(he still can’t figure out how the four of you seem to read each other’s minds, ‘cause the lot of you can be fucking terrifying when you’re on a mission. if he’s honest, he’s still not recovered from that goddamn prank with the door, and he knows that ash has lived in permanent fear of sam’s overhand serve ever since his mate had made the dubiously-successful suggestion of late-night tennis. it’s got to be something to do with this secretive “mates’ group chat” he’s heard legends of…)

(it gets a little more complicated when you’ve got to get the actual wolves involved, but david’s mate is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to organising shit. jesus, it’s like they’re the alpha, sometimes, and you’ve told him that you’ve met superiors at DUMP that are less intimidating. it’s no bad thing - that’s what you need when you’re dealing with a crack team like the one right here.)

(well, maybe less of a crack team, and more of a team on crack, but that’s what you get for trying to get him and ash to actually stop bickering and decide on a playlist or whatever.)

in any case, the pair of you have been put in charge of desserts for today - well, nobody was going to have ash go anywhere near anything that needed to be edible, and sam had declined politely, saying something about how “unless david’s developed a taste for O negative, i might not be too much help in the caterin’ department”. fair enough.

it doesn’t help that basically the whole pack is coming, and wolves aren’t exactly known for their, uh, delicate eating habits. you’re going to need a lot of food, and as if that wasn’t enough, you’re going to have to impress david fucking shaw. looks like the fridge is going to be working overtime in this weather, huh?

you’d taken it as a challenge, which meant that yesterday evening had been dedicated to all of the shit that needed to set overnight: tiramisu, cheesecake, chocolate tart, caramel shortbread… he doesn’t know how the hell you managed to balance it all in the fridge, but he’s not touching it, not a chance.

(it’s got to the point where he had to ask you to grab him another can of soda off the shelf because he wasn’t looking to accidentally knock something over - you’d thought it was funny, but he’d been dead serious! that new flavour you bought - the ones in the pink cans? - is really good, especially in this heat, but it’s not worth a dessert catastrophe, alright?)

(he’s especially not going near the trifle on the middle shelf - it looks pretty freaking impressive, what with all the layers and shit, but he doesn’t need you mad at him for swiping one of the raspberries off the top.)

(he remembers you making it last time, when his ma’d come over for lunch at the weekend, and you’d damn near kicked his shit in for accidentally trying to put the custard in before the cream. let’s just say he’d got the message loud and clear - he doesn’t get in the way when you make trifle any more.)

this morning’s endeavours have got you two dashing about trying to get the last few desserts finished, in a flurry of buttercream and baking powder. neither of you could remember whether david likes chocolate or vanilla more, and his mate’s not picking up, so you’d just made both - the victoria sponge is cooling on the rack over by the microwave, and the chocolate cake’s just come out of the oven.

fuck, it’s hot in here today.

the morning is almost unbearably humid, sun beating down outside between a few, sparse clouds. looks like you’re both going to need a shower before you go, as if there wasn’t enough to do. his shirt’s unbuttoned, sleeves pushed up to the elbows and collar hanging open, and he’d be tempted to take it off entirely if he didn’t know that when he does that, you almost always end up late.

you’ve got all of the ingredients for cream puffs (at least, he thinks that’s what they’ll be? you’d rattled off some fancy name, and he’d just kind of nodded and gone back to his strawberry mousse) laid out on the counter, while he slices up some kiwi for the fruit salad.

he’s not bad at cooking, by any means, but you’re the pro when it comes to desserts - he’s really just your sous chef today, and the system seems to be working pretty well.

(hey, it’s not like he minds you bossing him around a bit. he certainly hasn’t been complaining about the view today, seeing as the warm weather’s got you wearing a little less than normal.. and christ, when you do that thing where you grab him by the hips to move him out of the way? you know exactly what that does to him, you little minx.)

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174 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

#4

in the style of @yetdevout

214 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

#3

fizzing hot day!

or: he feels like seawater, drying on soft skin.

gn!reader, no content warnings, unless you count shirtless simeon (which, let's face it, we probably should). oh simeon, my sweet and tragic beloved. is this an established relationship? you’re looking at me like i have any idea. inspired by MIKA’s ‘sanremo’ and ‘tiny love’ - strongly suggest listening to those as you read! i am convinced that late afternoon on the beach in the sun is a different world altogether. simeon discovering what beach days are for in just over 1100 words.

it’s a beautiful summer’s day today, and you’ve decided to go to the beach.

you’ve been here before, so you know roughly which parts of the waterfront to head for and which to avoid. luckily, there’s only a handful of other people here today - no families with noisy children, or big get-togethers with loud music, or holidaymakers dragging huge umbrellas across the sand only to inevitably sit right in front of you.

just the occasional few people, scattered across the beach, peacefully soaking up the sun and the breeze and the quiet.

“so, how exactly does this work again?”

you get the feeling that simeon still doesn’t quite understand the purpose of sunscreen.

“but humans need sunlight to live, surely. when we’re in the devildom, you and solomon have to eat those… the little yellow marble things in the jar? why do you have to protect yourself from the sun when you eat your sunlight pills every day anyway?”

or, apparently, what your vitamin d supplements are.

(you explain it to him every time - you know by now that it doesn't work, but his concentrating-face is so adorable that you do it anyway. his big blue eyes go all wide and earnest, his lips part just slightly, and your heart goes all fluttery, every time.)

it doesn't matter. you take the bottle from his hand and squeeze a good amount into your palm. time to get to work.

"but d-aaah…"

his body is smooth and pliant under your hands, muscles relaxing into your firm touch as you rub the sunscreen into his back. you work over the crest of his shoulder blades and down to the small of his back, watching the soft, rich shimmer of his skin under the summer sun. the breeze is cool and gentle as it washes over you.

he stretches out on the sand underneath you like a cat, lithe and lean, and all of a sudden you suspect that he won't protest the next time you offer to put sunscreen on him.

"well, if you - mmm - put it that way, i can see why humans - hahhh - why humans bother with all of this."

exactly.

it takes a little while to get yourselves sorted, considering how distracting simeon's general state of undress is, but before long you're both settled under the umbrella. it's too heavy for you to normally bother bringing it, but it turns out that simeon's angelic strength is good for more than just opening jars and manhandling solomon away from the oven - who knew? it's a good thing too, what with the way the sunlight beats down over the sand, shattering over the waves.

for a little while, the world is quiet.

just you and him. the smell of salt, the crunch of sand, the rush of water. the sky is a rich and endless blue. 

you open your eyes. you're not sure when you closed them, but when you turn your head, the distant shapes of seagulls twist and scatter in the sky. from here, the water looks cool and inviting - perhaps it'll be nice to go and dip your toes in.

“mmm, that sounds good. here, let me help you up, love.”

the sand scrapes pleasantly between your toes as you walk towards the water, fingers entwined with simeon's. as you get closer, an idea pops into your head - does simeon know how cold the water is the first time? you start to run, laughing, pulling him by the hand as he stumbles along, damp sprays of sand kicking up behind you both as the balls of your feet leave clumsy divots behind you.

simeon’s laughing too now, eyes scrunched up into happy half-moons as the water comes rushing up to meet you, still running full-tilt into the surf as you brace yourself for the inevitable-

“mc, d-hahhhh!”

yep, after an hour or two spent lying under the warm sun, the water is just as coldcoldcold as you’d predicted - and, if the way that he’s clinging to your waist and shaking his head frantically in protest is any indication, much colder than simeon had been expecting.

“you’re - hahh - mc, you’re so mean to me!”

he smiles playfully into your hair as he says it, and as you chase away the goosebumps across his back with your palms, it sounds like“i love you”.

you don’t let go of each other, but somehow you drift a little further into the water until you’re up to your waist - the temperature gradually gets a little more bearable, but you still shiver into him every time a cold current sweeps past. he doesn’t seem to mind.

you don’t say anything. your mouth is too full of clouds, soft and airy and light. the seagulls cartwheel across the endless blue above you, and you think that simeon’s is too.

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218 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#2

SWEET TALK

or: you’ll always be his favourite flavour.

an apology - this is written in american english, which i do not speak, for a character with a very strong regional accent, which i do not know very well! readers are encouraged to please raise cringe shields to maximum as a precaution. gn!reader, all fluff all day, no content warnings. thank you to the lovely @virtualizated for science support - have a tube of smarties on me! did you know that M&M’s are from new jersey? inspired by ‘my baby just cares for me’ by nina simone, which you should definitely listen to while reading this. milo finding out what love means in 1800 words or less.

(for context - "sweethearts" are a type of small, brightly-coloured confection sold in america that are made of chewy wafer stuff and have short, lovey-dovey phrases printed on them. we have an equivalent in the uk, called "love hearts", which (unlike the american version) are made of sherbert.)

“hey, sweetheart. you got a minute to talk?”

it shouldn’t be as hard as it is to get the sentence out. 

it’s not like he doesn’t want to talk to you, and he never gets tired of talking to you - hell, he’d listen to your voice all day and all night if you let him - or anything like that. it’s just that this is about something kind of important, and he really doesn’t want to screw this up.

he fishes another candy out of the box and pops it clumsily in his mouth. this one is purple, and it says BE MINE.

he’s always had something of a sweet tooth. can you really blame him? david used to get on his case about always having some kind of candy in his schoolbag when they were kids, but by now the rest of the pack knows it’s just the way he is. 

it works out pretty well - he’s always got something for when the kids (and ash) get restless at long pack meetings, and he knows it makes david smile just a bit whenever he sees the half-open packet of M&M’s on the counter.

(he still remembers the look on ash’s face when he’d first overheard him calling you ‘sweetheart’ - he’d had to tackle him over the side of the couch to stop him from telling you exactly what his favourite candy was.)

(you’d thought it was just their usual antics and gone into the kitchen to get some water, while he’d been busy telling ash to shut his goddamn mouth before he could embarrass him any more in front of you. yeah, so you make him all soft and gooey when he looks at you, but that doesn’t mean he needs the whole freaking pack to know why he calls you that!)

your work phone rings just as you’re walking over - both of you know that that ringtone means it’s important. you smile sheepishly at him as you rummage through your bag, but he doesn’t mind. it’s just an occupational hazard of dating the best, most gorgeous, intelligent, hardworking investigator in all of dahlia. 

you kiss his cheek on your way out to the living room, and he blows you a kiss of his own as you disappear down the hall. you’re cute.

he slumps backwards onto the bed, legs hanging off the side, and takes a deep breath. the light above his head makes him squint up at the ceiling as he reaches for another candy. your voice, echoing from the living room, the lingering heat of your lips on his skin - god, how did he get so lucky? he thinks about you (as he always does), as he chews on FOR EVER.

it must have been, what, the thousandth date? millionth? he’s never been one to leave his sweetheart lonely. he likes to say that your little encounter with that shade was your first date, but you always argue that it was actually a few days later, when he showed up on your doorstep with a bunch of flowers, cotton candy pink, and his ma’s yelling still ringing in his ears. what a couple of romantics, huh?

(god, she’d been beside herself with worry when he’d turned up at her place. he’d staggered back from your apartment in a daze - mostly from your kisses but a little bit from blood loss - and realised that he’d have to bite the bullet and let her finish up the healing you’d started. he’d managed to play it off as a souvenir from work, but since when had that ever stopped his ma from telling him exactly what she thought about it?)

(she loves you though - always inviting you over, telling you stories about what a handful he’d been as a kid, sending you home with enough leftovers to feed the whole damn pack twice over.)

(he’s half convinced she thinks you’re far too good for him, and she’s probably right, but it never stops her from giving him that look when she catches him staring at your lips like a goddamn fool, or pulling your chair out for you at dinner all fancy-like. it’s not his fault you deserve the world on a silver fucking platter, and if he wants to treat you like royalty, then he damn well ought to do it right!)

he’d made sure to take you on all of those classic dates you like - the park, the movies, the arcade, the theatre, the ice rink (god, that one had really been embarrassing), all that sort of rom-com type shit that makes him look like the most lovesick idiot on the planet. this one had been in the summer, august-time or something, a saturday in the middle of the heatwave. 

you’d called and said you’d take him out for ice cream at that sundae place downtown, and he remembers the way, after you’d hung up, that he’d screamed into his pillow over how goddamn sweet you’d sounded on the phone, calling him up out of the blue like that.

(of course - he forgets sometimes that you ever used to live somewhere else. he’d asked you to move in with him about two months before and you’d said yes, but you’d had until october left on your lease, so you were waiting until then to properly move out.)

you’d turned up at his door an hour later, looking like a million dollars even in the blazing california heat, and oh, the way your whole face had brightened up when you saw him? he could have died a happy man right then and there. 

the ice cream parlour had been busy, but you’d grabbed a booth by the window and told him to go up and order for you - you’d reeled off a list of toppings as long as your arm and beamed up at him, and he’d blinked, nodded, and wandered off towards the counter in some sort of love-drunk haze, still replaying the way your eyes had softened and sparkled when he’d held the door open for you a minute ago.

(he’s not sure how, but he’d actually got all the toppings you’d wanted correct - even the extra wafer in the top and the two different flavours of ice cream. the girl at the register had looked at him like he was crazy, but it had been worth it to see the look on your face when it had arrived in front of you. it’s his favourite photo in the world.) 

(he’d only asked for one extra kind of candy on his. he remembers you laughing when you noticed, when the waitress who brought them had recited the order back to him, you want me in your mouth that badly, milo greer? and god, he had, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the whole damn room - he’d just stuck his tongue out at you playfully and jammed a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth to stop him saying something stupid.)

spoon in hand, you’d been in the middle of a story about the department handler guy two cubicles down from you - something about glitter gel pens and a restraining order? - when he’d felt it. 

there’s a word on his tongue. he rolls it around his mouth, feels it clinking off his teeth and melting all sweet and sticky. KISS ME is written backwards on the inside of his cheek, but that’s not the word he’s thinking of.

his mouth is full of words - ALWAYS, ME & YOU, ONLY YOU - and that’s nothing new, not when it comes to you, but this one tastes different. he knows why.

the rest of the date had been good, despite the crushing heat outside. he’d walked you home and kissed you senseless on your doorstep - you won’t admit it, but his shifter hearing isn’t just for decoration, so he knows he heard your cursing as your legs gave out once you shut the door. he’d gone home with a word in his mouth, tucked behind his teeth, and he’d wondered if you’d been able to taste it on his lips.

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236 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

no thoughts only vincent, lovely, and darlin' INSISTING that "sam" is short for "sandwich" - vincent started it and now the three of them all have him saved as "sandwich collins 🤠" in their contacts

lovely, shouting up the stairs: we're going to be late! sam, come on!

darlin', trying not to laugh: sandwich collins, you get down here this instant!

sam, head in hands: for the last GODDAMN TIME-

will, across the room, thoroughly bemused: now now, sandwich, i won't have such language under my roof.

411 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ranvwoop]

as i showed more Au Butler i would like to explain. who is this man. he is simultaneously "oh I am the only capable one here Get Me Out Of Here" and "but if I do not get a good grade in butlering i will die" (and genuinely Liking his new buddy bc. eventually you warm up to people)

and billiam III is out here trying his best, scamming people, and just really believes in that tumblr post about paying for a butler specifically to insult him

[memryse]

many thoughts about Scar in Last Life

We all know Scar is one of the standouts of Last Life; he’s always been one of the key players ever since 3rd Life, driving conflicts and shaping the course of the server. His chaotic nature lends itself perfectly to 3rd/Last Life, and he seems to have only refined it in the hiatus between seasons.

In 3rd Life, Scar was more of a subjective villain. From his own perspective and Grian’s perspective, he wasn’t scary at all! The two of them were just having fun and causing problems – sure, they threatened people, but their dumb antics together made them just feel like two friends messing around; their POV was lighthearted until the final session, really. From other perspectives, however (particularly Dogwarts’ POVs), that was not how the two of them came across. They felt malicious, scary in how casually they approached such a bloodthirsty game. They’d laugh as they took lives, showing no care for anybody but themselves – they’d betray their allies in a heartbeat without an ounce of remorse, and the rest of the players knew it. Scar wasn’t someone to fear from his own POV.

Since Last Life began, however, Scar has become very openly malicious. Even watching his own POV, it’s hard to see him as anything but a villain – his own comment section is full of people commenting on how scary he suddenly seems. I want to expand on some of these villainous moments, because holy fuck, Scar.

In session 1, Scar is certainly a prominent figure, but we mostly get to see his classic silly Scar antics. Sure, he plans on “selling souls”, but it feels like the equivalent of his reputation points in S1. We still don’t get the sense of him going full villain arc yet. He allies with Joel and commits a crime, and we all expect another lighthearted Scar scam which definitely does not go to plan.

And that is what happened… sort of. He’s immediately caught by Scott and Pearl, etc etc etc. The two of them cheerfully agree a scheme to try and kill Jimmy, but that casual discussion of murder is as bad as they get.

Session 2, Scar is chosen as one of the two boogeymen, alongside Joel.

Things go decidedly not to plan immediately. The two of them had agreed last session to try and kill Jimmy, and were supposed to be trusting enough to tell each other if they’re the boogeyman – and yet what does Scar do? Immediately try and push Joel into lava. He’d betray Joel without a second thought – already a contrast to 3rdLife, where upon turning red Scar threw flowers at Grian and asked if they could still be friends. He doesn’t succeed, of course, and Scar and Joel realise they’re both boogeymen, before parting ways.

Scar heads to the nether, where he immediately decides to deceive Etho and Bdubs into thinking he’s weak and has no food, so that he can get close to them nonthreateningly or something. I’ll talk about this more later, but here we get to see what a good liar Scar actually is. People want to assume that he’s all bark and no bite, that he’s a schemer who poses no real threat – when Scar plays into this, he can be reallyconvincing.

The next big moment I want to talk about is, of course, Joel’s trap. The first thing to comment on here is that Scar cries “Joel, are you trying to kill your best buddy?!”, and I can’t work out whether this is Scar acting to diffuse suspicion, or genuine surprise that he’d pull the trap when Scar was right there, but either way it definitely has the former effect. None of the Southlanders suspect Scar in the slightest. Until Scar murders Mumbo in a matter of seconds.

What’s really horrifying about this is that Scar had been begging Mumbo to ally with him just last session. And yet here… not only does he go for Mumbo without hesitation, his reaction afterwards is downright chilling. He just laughs, and tells the others “Welcome to Magical Mountain!” – it’s really quite like a movie villain in how little he seems to care. He doesn’t actually say a word about killing Mumbo; again, despite having desperately wanted to ally with him. To Scar, this was nothing more than an opportunity. Or maybe it’s all a show to him. Maybe it’s both. Scar doesn’t actually care about winning this game – to him, it’s more fun to put on as good a show as possible, and drag as many people down with him as possible (which is definitely a “cc!Scar being a good entertainer” thing, but it translates very well into being a LL!Scar character trait too).

He then hands Joel some supplies, and with the exact same level of nonchalance, tells him to go burn Scott and Pearl’s house down. I’m… getting the sense he enjoyed burning down Etho’s castle in 3rdLife.

Not much of note happens during his subsequent conversation with the Southlanders beyond him failing an initiation spectacularly – after this, he heads back to Joel. They chat from opposite ends of a broken bridge, which is quite a poetic scene honestly, representing the gap between their lives, the destruction of their alliance, etc. I’m just here to talk about Scar’s villainous moments, though, so let me point out one specific line from this conversation.

“I did avenge you, to be fair - Mumbo, I burned him to death, which was enjoyable. I heard him cry, so it was- yeah, that was a thing.”

Just… what the fuck, Scar? What? I know he tried to push the “red lives are psychopathic and feel nothing except a small sense of happiness when people die” in 3rd Life, but this was definitely a lie or at least an exaggeration, because 3l!Scar definitely had a much wider range of emotions than that. Either way, here he doesn’t even have the excuse of being a red life; this is just active malice, pure and simple. Bdubs had a similar level of pride in his boogeyman kill, but I never got the sense that he enjoyed it like Scar did.

Scar goes off to visit Scott and Pearl, and figure out whether they have the enchanting table or not. Note the emphasis on simply figuring it out, not actually getting the enchanting table. Here’s where I want to talk about Scar being a great liar: he fully convinces them into thinking that he was willing to trade lives for the enchanting table, and then he convinces them that he’s so desperate to get the table that he’ll lie about Joel burning their house down. The thing is, Scar had no intention of ever getting the table at that moment – he wasn’t going to trade lives for it to begin with. He’d try his luck at threatening them, but nothing more. He got exactly what he wanted out of that situation: proof. Meanwhile, Scott and Pearl were left believing they’d outwitted him, that they’d called his bluff and bullied him into leaving. They never saw his true intentions, never saw him as an actual threat. Scar is much smarter than people believe, which only makes him all the more threatening.

And finally, he goes on to prove this intelligence even further. He figures out that Scott and Pearl planned to trade for the enchanting table simply by seeing Scott ask Lizzie if she’s home in chat. He then goes to visit Lizzie, and she tells him she declined their offer. What’s notable about this scene is how much less belligerent Scar is than usual: he readily accepts what Lizzie says for once in his life and leaves without being too annoying about it. He later talks about lulling the others into a false sense of security, letting them think he’s not after the enchanting table anymore; that makes me think his visit to Lizzie was purely to confirm that the offer was even made, and he’s now certain that she accepted it. It’s not hard to work out, especially if he noticed her life count.

So, all in all, if you’re not scared of Scar in Last Life, you most definitely should be.

Did I forget to mention he’s currently tied for the highest life count on the server?

[maximotts]

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 || 𝐧. 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

a/n: y'all ever fall in deep with your anxiety and just need a good Comfort Natasha? bOY I SURE DO

warnings: lots of anxiety talks; panic attacks; Natasha is literally chasing you; mentions of sex and sex-related games; self-depreciation; soft Natasha towards the end because she doesn't mean any harm, really

summary: f!reader; while Natasha's away on a mission, you fall into a hard battle with you anxiety. when she comes back, you try to avoid her and attempt to pull it together, but Natasha thinks you're playing one of your games.

words: 3.5k

masterlist. || navi. || request rules/info : closed

malyshka- baby girl detka- baby

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

You and Natasha loved playing games. It was one of the things that kept your relationship so fun and exciting. Some days it was a roleplay, others a cruel game of red light, green light that left you shaking on your knees, suffering through a remote controlled orgasm in the hallway last time you played. But hands down, Natasha’s favorite was hide and seek. Ever the tracking assassin, she loved the challenge of hunting you down, knowing you could go anywhere -the compound, the city, the country if you truly wanted a long game- and eventually she’d track you down and have her way with you. Normally you enjoyed it, the thrill of just barely evading her coupled with the knowledge that the longer you ran, the more frustrated she got, hunger building with every hour you avoided capture; whenever she did catch you, and she never failed, the sex was always rough, possessive, there was never truly a loser. You always came back with bruises, marks you had no hope of covering completely; your body would be spent, but Natasha would hold you up and get you back to your shared room. The thorough aftercare made the punishing sex worth it and whenever either of you started a game, you nearly shook in excitement, having to fight the urge to just let her win, just to be back in her arms.

Today was not one of those days, however. You felt terrible, the weight of the world felt like it was on your shoulders after the week you’d had, dealing with threat after threat each day in the city and crying yourself to sleep -when you could sleep- nearly every night. Lately your anxiety had grown so bad you couldn’t ignore it, that didn’t mean you hadn’t tried. Each day you buried your worries anew, putting on a brave face while inside you fought a mental war against irrational scenarios and self-loathing. Deep down you knew it wasn’t healthy, but the one person who’d call you on it wasn’t around to force you to confront your issues.

Natasha was away on an overseas mission, no contact; you knew she’d always make an exception for you if you needed her, but no matter how deep you’d sunk, it didn’t seem like a big enough reason. She was due back today and while the thought of her nearby comforted you, the tiny voice in your head screamed at you not to burden her. Whatever she’d dealt with was much bigger than the relatively small time crimes you handled, she didn’t need to be weighed down by your hard days at work, much less the destructive train of thought you so desperately wanted to be in control of permanently.

So you avoided her.

When F.R.I.D.A.Y announced her arrival at the compound to you, common practice whenever either one of you were away for a while, you’d been trying to destress. Making yourself a sandwich to distract from the racing thoughts swirling in your brain, without warning they’d broken to the surface and you fell into sobs. “No no, not again, not here…” You felt stupid crying alone in the kitchen, gripping the counter within an inch of its life, tears falling onto your half crafted plate; Natasha couldn’t see you like this. On instinct, you shot off down the hallway, flipping your hoodie over your head while you turned the corners, desperately seeking out the ground floor exit.

In your haste, you grew clumsy, brushing past someone and mumbling a sorry without stopping. With your gaze trained on the door ahead, you’d ignored the identity of the person you’d run into- the very one you were trying to avoid. Natasha was stunned, having thought you were running to greet her until you bumped her side and kept going. She watched you go, disappearing into the darkening evening, and pouted, “Well hello to you too.” Without fail, you always greeted her when she returned. Even if it was just for a moment, she’d grown used to seeing your smiling face ready to pull her into a warm embrace. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t think of anything that would pull you away so quickly, unless-

“I hope the little kitten knows I won’t go easy on her just because I miss her.” Surprising her with her favorite game was a great welcome home present, if she had any say. She was a bit tired, but not enough to ask you for a playtime raincheck. Chuckling to herself, Natasha turned on her heel to follow where you’d gone. If your slip up earlier was any indication, you wouldn’t take her too long to find you.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The outside brought you some calm, closing your eyes to take in the sounds of your quiet surroundings. You didn’t make it to the garden, your crying made your nose stuffy and it was getting hard to breathe; the empty training field would have to do. The tears refused to stop now, the shame of having such a pitiful breakdown only hurting you more. Determined to shut down your thoughts, you clenched your fists and focused on any little thing you could hear. The wind blowing through the trees, crickets chirping en masse... footsteps trying their hardest not to crunch the fallen leaves with each step.. “What-?” you whispered to yourself, taking one cautious look over your shoulder. Eyes narrowed in the direction of the noise, you spotted Natasha just barely because of her hair- a tiny spot of red standing out against the black line of trees. “God damn it, Natasha.”

She must’ve seen you, of course she did, and thought you were in a playful mood. The idea crossed your mind to call out to her, but your throat constricted, tight from your panic attacks, and you didn’t want her to hear you like that. She’d worry. You didn’t want her to worry. Instead you fled again, giving up on the solace of the outside to roam the deep corridors of the compound. Typically you would give up if she was as close as she was, knowing it was futile to even try to outrun her, but maybe taking off again would give her the hint she needed. One last deep breath of the cool air and you forced your exasperated body to run once more, heading for the back garage. It’d take you to the pathways on the very lowest levels; no one went there without a purpose. Hopefully you could compose yourself there. Alone, away from Natasha’s concern.

Meanwhile Natasha had been about ready to pounce. A mere 500 feet away from your stock still form and images of tackling you to the ground, claiming you right where anyone could look out their window and see, filled her brain and if it wasn’t for her own restraint she would’ve just ran straight at you. She knew you’d seen her, watched your head turn in her direction; if the sun was still out, you definitely would have locked eyes. And then you ran. You never ran when she was that close. It pissed her off seeing how stubborn you were seemingly being, letting out a frustrated huff while you escaped. She already knew where you were going from where you’d left her eyesight: rear garage, experimental tech lab wing. “So determined when you want to be, sweetpea… Fine, I’ll give you a headstart.” Waiting five minutes exactly, estimating you’d most likely reached level two by now if you’d kept around the same space, Natasha rolled her shoulders, straightening up before going back to the front entrance. She’d let you think you’d gotten away from her for a while; it was much more fun when she caught you off guard.

“You’re in for such a long night when I catch you.” ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

You’d lost track of how long you’d been wandering. Truly you weren’t sure you’d even been this deep into the research halls before, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about being lost. Worst case scenario, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would help you find your way back to your room. Shit, your room. The room you shared with Natasha. The person you were trying so hard to avoid. At first you were surprised she wasn’t right at your heels, taking you down expertly in the blink of an eye as soon as she’d had the chance, but enough time had past you figured she must’ve finally given up.

The sleeves of your hoodie were tear-stained, dark grey splotches marking where you’d wiped your eyes so much someone might’ve thought you got caught in the rain. Ironically, the sweater was actually Natasha’s; she’d given it to you right before she’d left “to keep you safe while I’m away.” At the time you’d scoffed and called her a sap, tossing the jacket onto the bed before giving her a farewell hug. Now you and it were inseparable. You worked with it on when you were at your desk, took walks with it slung over your shoulders, the past few days you’d started sleeping in it to try to trick yourself into thinking Natasha was keeping you safe in her arms.

But now you were running from her because you couldn’t let her see you so broken. The one person you cherished more than life itself, your secretly gentle and endlessly kind Natasha...

She was back and you couldn’t even get it together long enough to let her know you were okay. The very problem was just how not okay you were and how quickly she’d figure it out. Even if you didn’t tell her, Natasha read every shift in your stance, the tone of your voice, the nervous way you’d tug at your hair when you tried to play off your mental state. She knew you better than you knew yourself and you loved her for it. It felt unfair to shut her out. Whatever mood Natasha was in, she’d drop everything to fix your problems, you knew she would. So why were you running from her?

“So fucking stupid…” Your sleeves had rubbed your eyes raw by now, but you shoved them together again, breath stuttering as a fresh wave of panic washed over you. Heart racing and jaw clenched tight, you fell against the wall, cursing yourself for the fat tears soaking your beloved hoodie all over again against your will.

So wrapped up in attempting to compose yourself, you missed your fast approaching girlfriend. She’d hesitated last time and lost you, but not again- Natasha grabbed you, pressing your body between her and the thick steel wall, your shocked gasp sending your dry throat into a coughing fit. “You know hiding your face doesn’t mean you’re invisible?” She fisted the top of your still hooded jacket, tugging you up roughly when you refused to look at her. It took her by surprise that you hadn’t seemed to hear her get close to you again, your surroundings so quiet and isolated you could hear a pin drop, but she couldn’t complain. She’d won her prize and she fully intended to cash in. “Oh come now, kitten, don’t be shy. I promise I won’t punish you too hard for running.”

Finally you moved, covered hands pushing at her shoulders weakly. You wanted her close, but not this was This Natasha was cruel and unforgiving, unwavering in pursuit of power and control over you; that’s not the Natasha you needed right now. “Nat, not now-”

“You know better than to say no to me, or did you forget while I was away?” Pushing against her didn’t move her an inch and she laughed- it was cute. No matter, if you wanted her to force the submission back, she’d be more than happy to. Ignoring your incomprehensible pleas, Natasha gripped your chin easily and forced it up to make eye contact with her, grinning wildly. “What a thoughtful little gift for me.” Your eyes were wide, red and watery, searching Natasha’s for any hint of mercy. She’d seen you cry before, made you do it by taking you apart and pulling you back together so perfectly your eyes were puffy for most of the next day, but this wasn’t right. Firstly, all things considered, Natasha hadn’t scared you today. There’s been times where she intentionally toys with you to get you so frightened you’re near screaming once she captures you, but she was completely hands off today. No tricks, no taunts, nothing.

“Natasha, please…” Your voice was just a croaked whisper, lips trembling and bitten raw. The redhead pulled away instantly, letting you slump against the wall and break eye contact, staring instead at your muddy shoes. Running again wasn’t an option. Your body was ready to collapse, chest aching, legs cramping, if you were just left to cry yourself to sleep on this very floor, you wouldn’t complain. Besides, Natasha knew. She’d stopped and you were grateful, but you wanted her near you again, even if it was just to shamefully cry into her shoulder. You wouldn’t ask though, you understood why she hadn’t brought you in again; she wanted a game, not a burden.

She didn’t know what was wrong, maybe she’d hurt you by accident? Suddenly Natasha recalled how briskly you’d run past her earlier; clearly you weren’t trying to initiate one of your beloved games, perhaps you’d fled for a reason. She was angry at herself for so blatantly misreading the situation.She might have actually hurt you when she caught you- it made her heart hurt, thoughts screaming every misstep she might have made with you in both the past and present. Either way, she couldn’t stand there watching you in pain and do nothing.

If she was the problem then she’d take you to Wanda; the young witch had just gotten back as well, probably curled up with a book or watching one of her favorite shows, but she was your best friend and anything you couldn’t tell Natasha, you’d discuss with her. As much as it pained her, wanting to be the one you told everything to, Natasha understood your boundaries and would only do what was best for you. “Sweetheart?” She was hesitant, taking one small step closer as if she was approaching a scared bunny. No response, not her favorite sign, but at least you didn’t cower from her. “Is it me? Should I go get Wanda for you?”

“No,” you shook your head, not wanting to involve anyone else. The only thing worse than the embarrassment of Natasha seeing you like this would be Wanda seeing it too. She was so worried about everything, she’d never leave your side if she knew you were struggling this badly right now. To be fair, Natasha probably wouldn’t either now that she knew. “Don’t bother her.”

It stung that Natasha thought this was her fault, she always took everything on her shoulders, silently concerned that she was always on thin ice. You had to tell her, for both of your sakes. At least if she left she’d know it wasn’t on her. “I-I just.. had such a bad week and my head hurts and I can’t sleep and my brain won’t shut up a-and-” Your words slurred together, falling out of you at rapid speed in a rush to just get it all out. It hurt, it was overwhelming, you couldn’t stand being so vulnerable-

A shadow fell over where light had been hitting your shoes, shrouding you in darkness and you stopped speaking, raising your head finally. Blue eyes held yours, soft and sympathetic; every trace of teasing was gone now, replaced with the caring gaze you wanted to see more than anything this week. The tender Natasha your heart needed stood in front of you, attention focused solely on you while she fret her lip between her teeth. Her nerves were visible, even in your frazzled state, you could tell she was trying with every fiber of her being not to intimidate or shake you.

“Can I hug you, is that alright?” Natasha was trying to avoid crowding you; she knew panic attacks often required physical space and she’d trapped you enough for one night with her chase. Relief came when you gave her a small nod and she probably hugged you too tight, but she needed to hold you. Anything to comfort you as fast as she could. When your arms wrapped around her waist with an equal ferocity, hands clamoring to find purchase against her suit frantically, feeling you break down all over again, Natasha was quick to calm you. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She flipped you both carefully, letting her back take on the stiffness of the wall so that you could lean easily against her. It was easy to keep you close, somehow you always fit against her perfectly. “I’m sorry I chased you.”

Natasha had removed the hood from your head so she could kiss your temple apologetically, one of the most gentle kisses you’d ever received. The simple act pulled a grateful sob from your throat. Speaking was hard, but you forced the words anyway. “Not your fault.. I shouldn’t have run.”

“You have every right to want space from me whenever you want it,” she was talking straight into your ear, a private conversation even though no one was even close to nearby. “If you want to tell me what’s wrong, whenever you want to, I’m here, but you don’t have any obligation to.” Natasha meant it. She wanted to be the one you leaned on, but only if you wanted to, not because you felt like you had to.

“I know..” And you did, really, but you appreciated not having to talk about it. Her care without the pressure or expectation of relaying every painful emotion you’ve been feeling in your time apart calmed you further. The niggling voices in your head began to quiet, Natasha proving them wrong once more with her patience and understanding. Suddenly it felt silly you’d even avoided her, she was your girlfriend; you loved her and she loved you just as much. Relying on her felt right and safe, like the warmth of a fire after coming inside from the frigid cold. “I missed you, Natty.” It sounded childish in your tired voice, but Natasha only squeezed you tighter, rubbing your back soothingly while your breathing evened out.

She used to jump at the chance for long missions, eager to have an excuse to ignore everything else for her one target. Now she dreaded them. Natasha had someone in her life she hated leaving, keeping the world safe meant nothing if she couldn’t have you by her side safe and sound. “I missed you too, malyshka. I always do. I should’ve been here for you.”

Wiggling away just enough you rest your chin against her chest, gazing up at her guilt-ridden face, you were forever in awe of everything Natasha did. Every day she tried her hardest and helped as many people as she could, yourself included, but she always wanted to do more. You looked up to her, but simultaneously she needed to be easier on herself. Advice that you could also take. “You can’t always be with me and even if you were, I’d still be like.. this. But when you are here, you’re constantly looking out for me and I take up as much of your time as I can,” you both laughed at that, knowing Natasha could be just as clingy when she wants to be. “My sweet Natasha, you’re my safe space.”

Natasha hummed, burying her nose in your hair, breathing in the gentle mix of her perfume and your shampoo. You smelled like love personified, everything she’s ever wanted and was too afraid to ask for or seek out. “And you’re my home.” The two of you stayed silent for a few moments, holding each other in the solitude of the compound’s depths. Sheer exhaustion hit you like a brick, the safety of Natasha’s embrace finally letting your body unclench and relax. Natasha noticed when she slowly felt more and more of your weight supported by her and while she didn’t mind, she finally knew exactly what you needed. “Let’s get you into bed, love. You’re overdue for proper sleep.”

“Mm..” Your legs felt heavy and the walk back to your room was surely far away. A muffled whine exposed your reluctance, but then your feet left the ground and toned arms were securing your thighs around her hips. “Nat?”

“I’ve carried you before, remember? I can do it again.” She only ever carried you after your games when you were too hazy to move yourself, this time you were weak for a completely different reason, but here she was, always providing exactly what you needed. Natasha never failed to make your heart swell with so much adoration. “But when you’re better, you have to carry me to Wanda. She keeps saying she’s taller than me.”

[landinoandco]

Would you consider doing a part 2 for My best friend and I?

Of course - I was thinking of doing a part 3 as well, let me know if you would like me to turn this into a mini series

My best friend and I ....

Lando Norris x Reader

Part one

Word count: 1.6 k

Rating: angst

Requests are open :)

Part two:

It shouldn’t have hurt you. Not at all. Lando was your best friend and the feelings you felt towards each other had remained platonic. Just like it had been for years.

You stared down at the photo in front of you - your lip caught in between your teeth and a line creasing the skin between your brows. A thought in the back of your mind raised its voice - what if it was you in those photos?

Slamming your phone onto the kitchen counter, you exhaled violently and looked around your surroundings. It was his house. You were in his kitchen. Just like you had been many a time before so why was it suddenly so different?

You were house sitting for Lando whilst he was away on his summer break. Once again - this wasn’t usually a problem but it had given you time to think. A lot of time to think, in fact. To be at one with your thoughts, except you didn’t want to be ‘at one with your thoughts’ because your thoughts had led you down a dangerous rabbit hole of feelings and despair.

He had been gone a week - a whole week apart. It was something you had never done before, which seemed odd due to his job but before last week you had always travelled together. Wherever he went, you went. Likewise, wherever you went he went.

As his PR officer it was your job to travel the world with him but that's besides the point. Even before that as childhood best friends - the bond you formed meant that the longest time you would spend away from each other was when your parents dragged you away on a weekend trip to the seaside. A weekend of torture. A weekend without Lando.

Standing up, you moved in the direction of the front door - grabbing the keys and locking the door behind you. You needed to clear your head - you needed a distraction.

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you started down the street; thinking back to the night before when you logged into his twitch account - he had joined, at first you thought he was going to be mad but instead Lando had typed into chat how much he missed you. Lando missed you and that was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Lando stared at Max’s phone, the photo glaring menacingly back up at him. He looked away as though the image pained him, scrunching up his nose and pushed the phone back to its owner. Max watched him warily, “It’s over every platform.” He added softly, placing his phone into his pocket.

“Right, thanks mate.” Lando mumbled, pulling his own phone out. He knew he had to call you, as his PR it was your job to instruct him on what he should do next. Had you seen the photo? Lando shook his head, you would have called him, the curiosity would have gotten the better of you. His finger hovered over your contact, he thought about what your reaction would be; what did he want your reaction to be? It was a valid question. He knew that there was no reason for you to be angry; at the end of the day he was on holiday and on holiday you have fun. What if you were jealous? Jealous of the girl in the photo. Lando’s arms snaked around the girl's waist, lips tantalisingly close to the girl’s ear. The corners of his mouth turned up at the thought.

The image of you had plagued him everytime he found himself alone. His thoughts running wild without you by his side, whilst you still messaged he still felt as though he was being starved from your company. It didn’t matter how many women he spoke to, they always seemed to be missing something. Part of him never wanted to get over you - part of him hoped that one day you realised that he did still love you, that it had never gone away. No matter how hard he tried. Part of him hoped that you were in love with him too.

The walk had failed to clear your thoughts. Everything led back to him. That infectious laugh. Those stupid curls. The way he looked at you. Every moment replaying in your mind on repeat. You were sure he would never feel the same way, especially after you rejected him all of those years ago. You sighed, the picture of the couple flashing in your mind.

As his PR officer you really should call him to help him manage the sudden attention. You clicked on his name, holding the phone to your ear. It rang once and he picked up.

“Hey.” Lando answered breathlessly. There was a pause before you answered, swallowing thickly you opened your mouth before closing it quickly.

“I take it, you've seen the photo.” You replied bluntly, there was no reason to sugar coat the reason for your call.

“I was actually just about to call you.” He said honestly, you could hear the sound of people talking getting quieter in the background. He was moving to somewhere more private. Away from prying eyes or ears in this case. “What should -”

You cut him off, standing up from the sofa and walking to stare out of the window. “Is this a serious relationship or -”

“No.” His voice was harsh, cold even.

“I had to ask - you know I did.” A loud silence filled your ears as you waited for him to respond - pressing your lips together as you did so.

“You would be the first person to find out if there was someone, you know that.” His tone was soft, so soft it was almost a whisper. A whisper that urged you to be close to him.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation - regardless of whether it’s a serious relationship or not. We both know how toxic some fans can be, does the girl know?” You knew that Lando was shaking his head. “Make sure the girl knows what may be coming her way. Carry on as normal and I know it’s hard but ignore it - don’t give it any attention because it will only add fuel to the unfortunate fire.”

Lando hung onto every word you said - how could he tell you that the only reason he kissed that girl was because he wanted to be closer to you. Your voice filled his ears once again, “Are you okay, Lando?” His thoughts were a tangled spiderweb, slowly entwining until he was struggling to think straight.

“I - uh.” He stuttered, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He was faced with a crossroad - he could tell you, there and then about how he really felt; explain the real reason to why he was caught on camera with the girl. He could tell you that he never stopped loving you. Not for one day. Lando could confess to his feelings. Or he could stay silent. Continue to lie and cover his feelings. He could argue that this way he was protecting your friendship. “Actually, there is something that we should talk about.”

A breath caught in your throat, you prayed Lando couldn’t hear it over the line. All of a sudden you could hear a second voice from the otherside of the phone. “Lando, are you on the phone to who I think you are on the phone to?” The expression was light but mocking and you recognised it almost immediately. Max Fewtrell, Lando’s second partner in crime. “Hang on,” He said to you, “I’m going to put you on speaker phone.”

“Hey Max,” You called out, relieved for the change in topic.

“I thought it was you our little gremlin had snuck off to speak to.” Max added, his voice becoming more audible. You and Max had always gotten on well, right from the moment Lando had introduced you. “Has he confessed his undying love for you yet?” He joked, a hint of truth laced in his tone. It had the effect of poison, the atmosphere immediately changing. You stiffened, jaw tightening as you waited for Lando to answer him.

“Come off it, we’re too close for any of that emotion sort of thing-”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, the regret was instantaneous. It was a lie. In fact it was the biggest lie he had told. Ever. Lando looked over to Max, his eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. Lando pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Right, way too close.” He heard you squeak in a way he had never heard you speak before. You sounded tired all of a sudden, almost downhearted.

“Wait-” He began to say, eyes snapping open. He was going to take it back. Confess to everything.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got to go. Remember what I said. I’ll see you when you get back.” Your words were rushed, throat slowly constricting. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall and ended the call abruptly.

You sank back down onto the sofa and groaned. You were in love with your best friend but he didn’t love you back.

Part three

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗹 || dark!alex kerner x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ◦ alex has been waiting so long for you to figure out he's the guy you should be with, but you just see him as your best friend. he's tired of being a virgin, and he's tired of hoping that someday you'll wake up and realise you're meant to be together— if he can't wake you up, at least he can put you to sleep.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ◦ 6.7k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ◦ smut (noncon, somnophilia, creampie), drugging, obsession, "nice guy"/incel vibes, a bit of possessiveness, very slight degradation, male virginity loss, overall just alex being super unsettling and awful lmao

“I’m gonna run to the washroom, watch my drink?” you requested casually. Alex nodded quickly, heart starting to beat a bit faster as he watched you weave your way through the crowded bar, leaning back a bit to make sure you were out of sight for good.

He took a few glances back and forth at the people around to make sure no eyes were on him, leaning in closer to the bar to try to conceal what he was doing— reaching into his inner jacket pocket and fishing for what he’d bought just a few days ago, waiting for this moment. He was absolutely terrified that someone would catch him— that you would catch him— but he was willing to risk it in exchange for such an incredible reward.

After struggling for a second due to his hands shaking slightly, he found the plastic baggie and discreetly slipped it out, not even looking at it as he opened it close to his chest; he figured if he stared straight ahead it would be less suspicious.

He managed to get the bag open and lean forward just enough to dump the contents into your drink as it rested on the bar, looking around absent-mindedly to remain nonchalant— except that when he leaned back to see if the powder had dissolved easily, he found that he’d missed the glass entirely and dumped the light blue substance right onto the bar.

“Scheiße!” he frantically cursed under his breath as he whipped his head around to make sure no one had seen, trying to decide how to recover from this. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the glass and held it up to the edge of the bar, brushing the powder with his hand across the smooth surface and right over the slope into your drink; it hit the alcohol and started to dissolve quickly as he used his finger to push in the excess on the wooden bar before brushing the rest away with his jacket sleeve. He held the glass up to his face to look at the liquid closely, still seeing some remnants of the powder and trying to swirl the drink a bit to encourage it to fade away: if you saw something by the time you got back, he’d have to start all over again.

“When I said ‘watch my drink,’ I didn’t mean it that literally,” you giggled, and he jumped, not having realized you had returned. Considering your casual attitude and your hands eagerly reaching for the glass, you must not have seen anything leading up to this moment— and thank heavens for that.

He watched a little too intently as you took the drink from his hand and took a sip, waiting to see if you had any reaction, but you set it down without saying anything. “Thanks,” you broke the silence after swallowing, “god knows this place is probably full of creeps.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he agreed awkwardly. There was one benefit to being so deep in the friendzone: you trusted him. Right now, that and some pharmaceutical support were all he had going for him.

He wrung his hands nervously as he hoped that the second would come through for him. The guy he bought this stuff from said it was guaranteed to work, but Alex didn’t necessarily trust the word of a drug dealer selling daterape drugs. Not that he thought the label of “daterape” was very fair— if he could get you on a date, he wouldn’t have to do stuff like this in the first place! But after years of being your best friend, your partner in crime, your confidante, and the constant shoulder to cry on while a carousel of abusive assholes treated you like shit and kicked you to the curb, you still didn’t get the fucking picture. So no, this wasn’t a date; it was just two friends getting drinks, and one friend finally getting what he deserved from the other.

He took a swig of his own drink to try to calm his nerves; nursing the neck of a bottle of beer made him realize he got lucky that you ordered something served in a glass, since getting powder down a bottle would’ve been a pain.

Quickly the conversation returned to the mundane: your latest break-up, his week at work, your favorite bands, his favorite movies. He really did enjoy being your friend, all things considered, he just needed more. And as the night continued without much sign of the pill kicking in— even as you finished your drink— he worried he wouldn't get it.

But then, finally, he noticed the subtle signs: you were blinking a bit more often, and for longer. You seemed to be breathing a bit slower, staring off into space. "Hey, you with me?" he prompted, waving his hand in front of your face to get your attention. "Sorry, my story was boring—"

"No, it's not that, I'm sorry," you shook your head.

"Then what's up?" he asked, adding faux concern to his tone.

“I just…" you sighed and started over again. "Let’s head out soon, I’m getting ready to turn in,” you decided.

“It’s only ten!” Alex pointed out with a laugh.

“Fuck, really? I thought it was later,” you frowned.

“Who knew you were such a lightweight?” he teased, pushing you on the shoulder and getting a playful shove back— but he could feel that you were a little weak, and he saw you almost falter in your balance. “Hey, you don’t look so good, let’s go outside for some fresh air.”

You nodded and took his hand, letting him guide you through the crowd and out the back door.

The overwhelming noise that had been present inside was muffled in the damp alleyway, just the distant roar of a thousand conversations and the heavy bass of the music left now. He watched you take a deep breath, closing your eyes. "You good?" he prompted.

"Yeah," you decided, but your voice sounded a little heavy. "Let's walk to the train station…"

He nodded and walked beside you, but you hardly made it a few steps before losing your balance. “Woah!” he laughed as you stumbled, thankfully catching you just in time, and tried not to get too caught up in how amazing it felt to hold you in his arms. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink…”

“Alex,” you mumbled as you started to go limp, clearly fighting to keep your eyes open (and losing).

“I’m gonna take you home, okay?” he offered as you started to fade out.

He kept that promise; he just took you to his home instead of your own.

It was a bit of a struggle to drag an unconscious body back to his apartment without arousing suspicion, but thankfully it was only a couple blocks and with his your arm slung over his shoulders it was pretty easy for any passersby (of which there were very few at this hour) to assume it was just a chivalrous boyfriend helping his date after one too many drinks.

The hardest part was actually getting his keys and unlocking his door without dropping you. Once you were both inside, though, he grunted slightly as he slung you over his shoulder and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed and looking down at you as he caught his breath.

He was embarrassingly eager; he was already rock hard just from seeing you like this, laying on his bed. It’s not that he got off on you being passed out, but from the feeling that he could do whatever he wanted to you— and the knowledge that he was going to.

Finally, after all this time of being just your friend, he would get what he’d been dreaming of from the beginning.

He was slow and patient, for once, as he sat down beside you on the bed, trailing his fingers over your face, brushing your hair out of the way tenderly. You looked so beautiful this way, peaceful in a way he was almost jealous of; he closed his eyes as he leaned down and kissed you softly, moving his lips even though yours were slack and still.

Past the taste of alcohol, there was something distinctly unique to you, and he took in a deep breath as he sought more of it, adjusting himself until he was on top of you... just having you beneath him was such a rush.

He licked over your lips, even nibbled on them before holding your jaw so he could open your mouth wider and taste inside of it. “Baby,” he whispered to you, heart swelling at the chance to finally call you something that friends don’t call each other— only lovers. “Baby,” he said again, mumbled into the kiss, “you’re so beautiful…”

He precariously balanced on one arm while using the other to feel all over your body through your clothes— and even under them, for a moment, as his hand awkwardly snaked up your shirt and squeezed your tits through your bra.

Suddenly he pulled back with a new desperation, sitting up and breaking the kiss as he started to undress you. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he cooed at you quietly, starting to lift your shirt to expose a bit of your hips and stomach.

It was pretty difficult to push your shirt up, since your weight was holding the back of it down, and so he had to awkwardly lift your limp upper body to finally pull the fabric aside before he laid you back down and carefully— gently, with reverence— exposed your bra which itself he pulled down with much less care.

“Oh, god,” he groaned as he got an eyeful, and then a handful, of your tits. “Fuck, wanted to touch you for so long…”

You were so warm, in fact you were hot to the touch, and he hoped his hands weren’t too cold for you… but then again, you couldn’t feel any of it, could you? Did you even care?

For cold hands or not, your nipples started to get harder and he smiled to himself. “You’re sensitive here, just like I imagined. I’m gonna suck on them,” he promised as he started to lean down, pushing them together a bit to make them easier to reach. With a hum he wrapped his lips around one bud and closed his eyes, swirling his tongue and moaning at the taste of your skin. Already his hips were rocking forward into the air just a bit, his cock throbbing and eager to be inside you. But he couldn’t stop doing this to deal with that, couldn’t stop suckling on your perfect tits, going back and forth and massaging them both as he let his tongue explore you.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned against your skin, “you’ve got such perfect tits… you like being sucked here, don’t you? I bet your pussy’s getting so wet.”

As his cock flexed in his pants again, he found the strength to let go so he could move on to better things.

“Let’s find out,” he decided as he sat up and moved down your body to start opening your jeans.

If he thought your shirt was awkward to remove, your jeans were a whole other story; he had to fiddle with the button and fly for quite a while since his hands were starting to shake from the adrenaline rush of it all, and then it took several hard yanks to get the tight denim down your legs. He considered just getting them down enough to do his business and be on with it, but decided it would be better to see all of you— and so he stood up off the bed for a moment, though it felt a bit awkward physically with his cock doing its best try to bust right out of his trousers, and pulled the jeans off over your feet which he also relieved of their socks.

“Aw, you even have pretty feet,” he cooed as he cradled one in his hand briefly before climbing back up over you— after all he’d seen them before when you wore sandals and while he’d always found it a bit titillating when you wore them with your toenails painted in bright colours, they were absolutely nowhere near the main event tonight.

His hands ran over your legs, admiring the smoothness of your skin as he carefully held and lifted each one, moving them out further to spread your legs. Again, they were heavier than he expected as dead weight, and the softness of the bed meant that they sort of rolled back a bit so he had to move them more than he expected at first, but it was worth it to have you spread out beneath him like this with only your panties and rolled up shirt to cover you.

“I can just… pull these aside…” he mumbled as he hooked a finger into the fabric of your panties, revealing your cunt— and god, just the sight of it nearly pushed him over the edge right then and there. What a waste it would’ve been to come this far and just end up coming in his pants at the sight of you, so it was a good thing he held it off just barely. “Mein Gott, you have such a beautiful pussy,” he sighed. “It smells good… I wanna taste it. I’ve never tasted a pussy before…”

Carefully, he leaned in and gave an experimental lick to your folds, moaning softly at the taste. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he liked it more than he thought he would, going in again to get a more thorough taste. That said, as soon as he started to push his tongue into you, he knew he needed to feel inside you with something much more capable of appreciating every detail of you. He breathed heavily as he quickly brought his fingers up to your entrance, pushing in one but adding a second right away once he felt the warm perfection of your channel. This he’d done before— fingering, that is— and it had been rather lackluster so he hadn’t realised how much he would enjoy it when it was you; you were so much warmer, and wetter, and tighter… his fingers curled slightly to press against your walls, his attempt to feel every detail of your body, and he moaned as he sucked on your clit while he pumped his fingers.

One more flex of his cock against the confines of his trousers made one thing very clear: now, or never.

“Fuck,” he groaned beneath his breath as he sat up quickly, pulling his fingers out of you to use two hands to fumble over his belt and jeans, “need to be inside you— m’gonna fuck you baby, you want it? Yeah, you wanna be fucked, don’t you?”

You were, of course, still and silent… but your pussy was wet, you obviously wanted him.

He shouldn’t have rushed it quite so much but the moment he pulled his cock out, he found himself leaning forward and hovering over you again, swiping the head through your folds to coat himself in your wetness. As soon as he felt your entrance, he pushed all the way inside.

“Fuck!” he moaned loudly at the overwhelming feeling of you— so hot he thought he might burn up and he wouldn’t even mind it— already bucking his hips as he thrusted quickly. Lost in the feeling, he threw his head back for a moment and blindly searched with his hand until he found a breast to grab onto. “Oh my god, you feel so good, baby…”

He didn’t have much freedom to move his legs since he’d only pushed his pants down just enough to get inside you, but he found a way to make it work anyways, just from pure desperation. After a moment, he looked down at your sleeping face, tossing around slightly as his thrusts rocked your unconscious body, and you looked so angelic that he just had to lean down to kiss you again. So he did, and he did so hungrily, passionately, moans echoing into your mouth, as he already felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Taking me so good,” he praised roughly, “feels like you were made for me… you’re fucking tight, too, how am I supposed to pull out when you’re this tight? Oh fuck, I have to come inside you— I can’t pull out, you feel too good, and you’re not awake to yell at me anyways…”

Truth be told, he had no plan for when you woke up tomorrow, sore and leaking his come. He’d never thought that far ahead, not even when he was buying the sedative for your drink. All he could think about was this moment, this exact place that he knew he was meant to be: inside you.

“Gonna fill you with it,” he promised with a grunt as he kissed his way across your cheek to the crook of your neck where he buried his face as he thrusted faster. “O-oh god, I’m close, I’m so fucking close, just— just like that, baby— fuck!”

He may have caught a little glimpse of heaven as he came inside you, each pulse of his orgasm running straight down to the base of his cock and making his balls tighten so hard that it would’ve probably been painful were it not for the euphoria superseding everything. He gave you a few more weak thrusts, not pulling out very far since he couldn’t manage being anything but buried completely inside you, before the waves subsided and he collapsed on top of you.

“You’re so amazing, baby, Mein Gott,” he breathed as he kissed all over your face, “look how fast you made me come, you’re fucking perfect.”

He let himself rest for a little while, content to just stay inside you for as long as he could stand it, before sitting back up again and very carefully pulling himself out of you.

That first one only took the edge off; now that he was thinking somewhat clearly again, he could take the time to do this right— he carefully pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them aside along with your shirt and bra once he’d figured out how to get them off somehow.

He really savored you this time: kissed you all over, talked softly to you about everything he couldn’t wait to do to your pliant body, ran his hands over anywhere he could reach. He even played with your clit, watching the way it made your walls flex which pushed a bit of his come out every time. “I love the way your pussy looks, baby, it’s so fucking sexy,” he grinned. “And you know what? I think it looks even better with my come leaking out of it. You want more? I can give you more, baby, I have so much left to give— I’m gonna use you until my balls are empty and all my come is inside you. We’ve got all night, after all.”

He stripped himself as well, wanting to feel your skin against his this time, and stroked himself for a moment as he stared down at your body, laying there at his disposal. He couldn’t even count how many times he had jerked off imagining being with you, and now his dreams were coming true, if maybe not exactly the way he would’ve predicted.

On his knees between your spread legs, he lifted your hips up and propped you up just how he wanted you before pushing inside, groaning instantly not only from your warmth but also because of the way his own come eased his path and left you dripping wet. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, placing one hand beside your head so he could hover over you while the other squeezed your hips tightly.

But now that he’d already come before, he had some real stamina to work with and that gave him time to move you into a new position— just for fun, he turned you onto your stomach and fucked you from behind for a while. He was definitely a breast man all things considered, but he was absolutely not one to let a great ass go to waste; he loved watching yours ripple each time he slammed into you, pushing your back down to force it to arch a bit.

“You probably like taking it from behind, don’t you? Is this how you liked to get fucked?” he taunted with a groan. “Yeah, I think you like it— I think you’re a bit of a slut, hm?”

He took your absence of response as a yes, squeezing handfuls of your ass before spanking you a few times for good measure.

After that, he pushed your legs up to your shoulders, groaning in awe of such a lovely view of your pussy and face at the same time. This time when he pushed his cock into you, he felt himself hit the very end of your body— he moaned as he realized his cock was using all of you, really claiming you as his own. He needed to come this deep in you, he needed it like he had never needed anything before.

Soon enough it ended up with your legs draped over his shoulders and his hands roughly grabbing at your tits, and that transitioned naturally into him slipping his arms under your back and holding you tight as he fucked you fast, rough, needy— animalistic, near the end.

He let his mind run wild with some insane idea of what it might be like if you were awake: in his fantasy you were begging him for more, moaning about how he was the best you ever had, digging your nails into his back as he brought you to ecstasy with only his cock. You seemed like the type to cry with joy when you came really hard, at least that’s what he’d imagined before, and so he thought he might kiss your tears away while he spoke his little praises to you, hearing your sounds of pleasure right against his ear.

Suddenly he pressed his lips to yours again, almost wishing you could kiss him back properly but appreciating that this was the best he could do for now— and it still did plenty for him, making his cock start to flex inside you as his second orgasm drew closer.

“You’ll make me come, baby— you’re so good, I’m gonna come in you again,” he whispered against your lips. “Oh, Liebling, you’re going to be so full of my come, do you think you can take it all? Can you take everything, baby?”

It was different from the first one: in some ways more intense, kind of building on the last, and in some ways more subdued as he knew a bit more of what to expect by now. But it was no less incredible, and he moaned loudly into his unrequited kiss as he filled you once again.

Once the most intense pangs of sensation had faded, once the ringing in his ears had stopped, and once he’d (mostly) caught his breath, he sat up slowly and looked down at where your bodies were joined. It had, understandably, made a bit of a mess to come inside you twice in a row— he hopped up from the beg on slightly-wobbly legs to retrieve a damp cloth, cleaning his cock first before giving your pussy at least a cursory, exterior wipe down like any gentleman would.

He knew there was no real point in getting you fully cleaned up since he’d be back to use you again soon enough. But that was a ways out from now since he definitely needed a while to recover.

With a parting kiss to your forehead and a brief search for his boxers, Alex left the bedroom to forage the kitchen for something to restore some energy. He settled on a coffee (there was still plenty of night left that he would definitely prefer to be awake for), an apple, and some orange-chocolate biscuits, which he enjoyed while he turned on the TV and watched whatever was left before the end of broadcast.

Of course, with nothing interesting to watch, he found himself not really paying much attention as his mind wandered to other things. Most of all, for the first time he considered his plan for after the pill wore off and you had questions. The most thorough solution would be to give you a bath to get his fingerprints off of your skin and his come out of you, then to redress you in your clothes from the bar and simply say that you passed out and he gave you the bed while he slept on the couch.

Another option, though more dangerous, might be a bit more fun: he could leave at least some of his come inside you before he redressed you, just to know he’d left a bit of himself behind.

And, of course, there was always his last resort, perhaps the most obvious but highest risk solution. He could admit that something had happened, but try to convince you that it was of your doing, a drunken initiation that you simply couldn’t remember. But even then, it would all depend on what you remembered of the moments at the bar before blacking out; and considering the thorough beating your pussy had been receiving so far tonight and would continue to be receiving, the odds were probably pretty low that he could convince your hungover self in the morning that nothing had happened. Not that Alex would know, but he had a pretty good feeling that a sore vagina is not a common side effect of a hangover for women.

His cock started to stir as he imagined the absolute best case scenario when you woke up in the morning.

Alex, what happened last night? Did we have sex?

Yes, baby, and it was amazing, I just wish you could remember it.

Oh, Alex, I’ve been waiting so long for you to just man up and take me— you’re all I ever wanted.

I know, baby, but I’m sorry I had to go about it that way, giving you that pill in your drink. I just had to be sure you wouldn’t say no to me, I couldn’t take it if you did.

I’d never say no to you, Alex, and I never, ever will. I wouldn’t even know how, not after last night— I know that we’re meant to be together now. You shouldn’t apologize for drugging me either, I should be thanking you. We can finally be together, I can finally be all yours… come here and make love to me again, I promise I’m going to remember it this time— I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.

And to make up for such a one-sided night of passion before, he decided that this time you’d be loud and proud, even bordering on dominant by riding him with reckless abandon— bouncing happily on his cock and bringing yourself pleasure like you’ve never known before. But, of course, you’d both be well aware who was really in charge, who you really belonged to.

Alex, I’m yours— my body is yours, my heart is yours, everything, it’s all yours… I swear, nobody’s ever made me feel like you do, you can have me whenever you want me— use me, Alex, I love you, I love you!

Fuck, he was hard again. Way harder than he had any right to be considering how he’d spent the night so far. He could even just barely see a little stain of precum on his boxers by the tip of his cock, hard to make out with only the dim, blue-ish glow of the TV to see by.

But thankfully, while you were here, no boner would go to waste— he stood up and stretched away the soreness that had settled in from sitting on the couch for a while, before walking to his bedroom and cracking the door open. You were laying there, exactly as he’d left you, and even though it was no surprise at all he still smiled to himself proudly.

“Hey baby,” he grinned as he slipped off his boxers and hopped onto the bed beside your motionless body, “you’ve been waiting for me, huh?”

He ran his fingers down your stomach, over your thighs, then came back up to start to touch your pussy. He still couldn’t believe how soft and silky it was, you were just too good to be true— and here you were, spread out on his bed for him to use as much as he liked, his best friend turned into his own personal sex doll.

The only shame was that the drug would wear off eventually, and he couldn’t just use you this way forever. It was only one night, at least until he found a way to do it again, and he needed to make the most of it.

So, not looking to waste any more time, he climbed up on top of you and rubbed his cock over your pussy— wet and spread out on display for him, though even wetter after he took a moment to pull back and spit on it— while his mouth laved at your hardening nipples. Honestly, he could probably come just from this, just from rubbing himself on you and sucking on your tits, but why do that when he could fuck you again?

He held your legs apart for himself as he pushed inside, purring as he felt your swollen channel struggle slightly to accommodate him. “Aw, it’s not too big for you, is it baby?” he taunted you with a smirk. “You can take it all, right? Yeah you can, that’s my good girl…”

He fucked you a little faster right away, focusing his hands and mouth on your breasts for a while and wondering if he might find the self-discipline to pull out and come on your tits this time. Probably not, but it was fun to imagine. He always thought your tits just deserved to be covered in his come, though, ever since you wore that one dress that showed them off just a little too much and it made him too horny to even really be jealous that you were putting yourself on display like that.

You dressed a little too provocatively, all things considered; he never got his head around on how all these controlling douchebag boyfriends of yours let you leave the house like that. If you were his girlfriend, he’d treat you loads better than any of them did, but one thing he’d be sure of is to dress you up in baggy sweatshirts as much as he could get away with. No more of those tops with the straps as thin as a noodle and the jeans so tight that every guy who walked by was obviously staring at you. A body as lovely as yours would need to stay Alex’s-eyes-only, if you two were ever going to end up together. But obviously, tonight proved that Alex was more confident than ever that that could never really happen. It was nice to play pretend for the night, though.

“You’re taking it so good, baby, look at you,” he groaned as he sat up a bit to get a glimpse of your cunt stretched wide around his cock. “Can you believe it fits? I can, I know you were made to take it— ‘cause you’re my girl, huh? All mine…”

For all intents and purposes, he was talking to himself; but as stupid as it was, it worked.

“Yeah, you’re all mine,” he continued, fucking you faster, “this pussy belongs to me, all my come inside it makes that pretty fucking clear, don’t you think? Such a beautiful little pussy and it’s all mine.”

Overcome by it all, he leaned down to rest his head beside yours while he fucked you, feeling a thin layer of sweat gather around most of his body from the exertion of fucking you as hard as he was.

“You’re never gonna let anybody else touch you,” he demanded against your shoulder, “‘cause you’re mine, baby, and nobody else is ever gonna fuck you… just me, you’re gonna be mine, Liebling.”

He heard you let out a little sigh and at first it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced— the closest he’d ever gotten to hearing you moan for him— but then he pulled back and saw your eyes blinking open and staring straight up at him…

And suddenly it was the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced.

A rush of adrenaline— much less enjoyable than before— shot through him and left him petrified as he stared back at you.

“...A-Alex?” you croaked out weakly. “What’s happening?”

Even in his state of terror, he was moving on pure instinct: and his instinct was to keep fucking you. He couldn’t stop, not even staring you down like this, not even moments away from facing the very terrible consequences of his very terrible actions. “You’re dreaming,” he blurted out suddenly, suppressing a moan as he felt you squirm a bit beneath him— it made you even tighter when you struggled. “This is just a dream…”

You reached up, a pathetically weak attempt to push him away, and he quickly pinned your arms down beside your head.

“You’re just dreaming, baby,” he repeated in a groan, “a really, really amazing dream.”

You whimpered a bit but didn’t say anything else, eyes falling shut again; he carefully leaned down to press his face into your neck, kissing along your pulse and up to your ear.

“You’ve dreamed about this before, haven’t you?” he whispered to you softly. “You’ve dreamed about how good it would be if you let your best friend fuck you. And it feels good, doesn’t it? I dreamed about this too. For as long as I knew you.”

When he looked up at your eyes again, they were still shut, and your breathing started to slow down again. He couldn��t say for sure that you were asleep quite in the same way you had been before, but you weren’t awake the way you’d been before, either.

The safest option, of course, would be to stop now— but he was too close to coming a third time and he just couldn’t bring himself to stop moving when the slick friction was just so fucking good.

He tried not to be too rough so he wouldn’t jostle you awake, and even just that took all that was left of his willpower; it wasn’t all too much later that he came inside you one last time, whispering to you about how this might be the last time, but that he hopes you enjoyed your strange little dream about making love with your best friend.

Truth be told, he didn’t mean to fall asleep in the manner that he did— that being on top of you— but the coffee did little to keep him up compared to the sedative of three orgasms and your perfect pussy keeping him warm all night…

By the time he woke up, though, you two had migrated apart slightly, though you were still tangled up in his arms with your head on his chest.

Smiling down at you, he let himself run his fingers lightly over your back, over your arm draped on his chest, before he felt you start to stir with the sunlight in the window shining on your face.

You hummed a little, starting to move, but he thought he might’ve caught the moment you realised you were laying next to someone— and you looked up at him with those pretty eyes all confused. “Alex?” you groaned.

“Morning,” he greeted, trying to mimic the hungover exhaustion that tinted your voice.

“Oh Christ are we—” you choked, glancing down at his bare chest. “I think we’re naked.”

“That… seems to be the case, yes,” he agreed awkwardly.

“Did we…?” you prompted, looking up at him in a way that made it painfully ambiguous what answer you might prefer.

“I don’t know, we were both pretty wasted,” he offered, banking on you not remembering him being much more composed than you when you passed out. “What do you remember last?”

“Um, the bar…” you trailed off. “And we were walking outside…”

“Yeah, that’s kind of where my memory cuts off, too,” he bluffed with a nervous chuckle.

He saw your eyes get wide for a second before they darted away, and he raised an eyebrow. “Oh… oh shit,” you choked as you sat up suddenly, trying to cover yourself as you searched near the bed for your discarded clothes.

“What? What’s going on?” he asked quickly.

“I, uh, remember one other thing,” you explained pointedly, finally finding your panties and slipping them back on under the covers.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, but you ignored him as you searched for your bra. “Hey,” he barked, grabbing your shoulder as he sat up, and finally you faced him again, “what do you remember?”

“Well,” you sighed, “I, uh… I think I can say with complete confidence that we fucked last night.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?” he pressed, sitting up a little straighter.

“I… remember,” you explained, “just a little bit.”

He just prayed that you didn’t remember that little bit where he drugged you. “Well, what happened?”

“I don’t know, okay? I just remember you on top of me and—”

“And?”

You swallowed thickly, and he had to hide a smirk when he realized what the rest of your sentence was. And it felt good.

“I should go…” you mumbled awkwardly, and he reached out to grab your arm.

“Wait, please,” he begged, and you looked back at him with watery eyes. “Look, I’m not sure what happened last night, but maybe it wasn’t a mistake— I mean, how can we be sure if we don’t give it a shot?”

You tilted your mouth a bit as you considered it.

“I mean, they say alcohol takes away your inhibitions, not that it gives you new ideas, right?” he added. “So we both got way too drunk and… if this is where we ended up, then maybe this is what we both really wanted all along.”

He scooted a bit closer to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. You sighed as you leaned into his chest, relaxing a bit. “I just don’t want to lose this,” you breathed. “You know: this.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “we’re always gonna be best friends, nothing can change that.”

He leaned in to kiss your temple… then your cheek… then just below your ear...

“Alex,” you breathed as he slowly laid you down and pressed you back into the mattress, but you jumped a little bit when he pressed his cock against your thigh. “Alex!”

“C’mon, baby, let’s remember together,” he encouraged with kisses all over your neck, grinning as your back arched.

“But… but we’re just friends,” you protested.

“Not anymore,” he purred. “I don’t remember much, but I remember you begging me for more. You loved my cock way too much for us to just be friends now, Liebling.”

For all the conflict on your face, your legs spreading open for him was pretty unambiguous. Your mind might have missed the memo, but your body was already used to him. With you conscious he could make you come around him, he could hear you moan his name, he could make you beg him to come inside you… the possibilities were really endless.

He should’ve known he’d never have the self-control to let it just be one night; he was a goner from the beginning, he’d do anything to have you— lie, steal, kill, spike your drink— and he wasn’t going to let you get away so easily, not when you were finally right here in his arms.

“You’re gonna be mine, baby,” he whispered in your ear as he slowly pushed his cock inside you once again, “all mine.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Nie Mingjue was always glad for an excuse to leave a boring political meeting, although he was surprised that Jiang Yanli had been bold enough to send a note requesting his immediate presence before they were married.

Certain jibes had been made at his expense by his fellow sect leaders, of course, but he had shrugged them off. Let them think him overly indulgent; what did he care? He enjoyed having someone to dote on when he had the chance, and anyway he didn’t think Jiang Yanli would ask him to come out so quickly over nothing – though it was interesting she asked for him to join her, rather than asking for her brother.

“Mistress Jiang?” he said, walking into the room in Jinlin Tower where she was waiting for him. Her posture was tense, her hands clutched together under her sleeves. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where the Wen sect survivors were sent?” she asked. “It’s a matter of – some urgency. If you don’t know, we’ll have to find out another way.”

We, he thought. Wei Wuxian, no doubt, since Jiang Cheng was still inside the hall, enduring the politics that came with any meeting between sects. And Wei Wuxian did not, generally speaking, have the best ways of figuring things out.

“The Jin sect has not shared that information publicly,” he said slowly, and saw her shoulders slump in disappointment. “But that does not mean I don’t know it. What is the issue?”

Jiang Yanli explained in a few sentences: a woman looking for a brother, a young man who had helped rescue Wei Wuxian during the war, a doctor’s assistant, who’d even gone so far as to poison his own people to save members of the Jiang sect and then spent the majority of the war in a prison, and yet now they thought he had been trapped in a prison camp, being abused…a young man surnamed Wen.

A young man called Wen Ning, or Wen Qionglin. It was not a name Nie Mingjue remembered.

But the one searching for Wen Ning was his sister, Wen Qing - and that was a name he did remember.

Wen Ruohan’s favorite nurse.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched at the thought. He’d spent more than half his life avenging his family, and had always assumed the Wen sect would do the same if they were allowed to live; he had never stinted on hating all of them without exception, without quarter. Wen Ruohan was a murderer and a tyrant, and his family supported him with nary a word in protest until the tables had turned and it was their own lives at stake – was it not evil to support evil? Could Wen Ruohan have done as much as he did without Wen Qing’s medicines and treatments, without Wen Qionglin’s silent compliance? Did it really matter that they had been threatened, as so many other people had been threatened?

No. Duress could explain many things, but it never excused standing aside in the face of murder. Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing were, at best, accessories to a hundred crimes, and deserved exactly none of his sympathy.

And yet.

It was not them that was making a request of him.

Patient, calm, gentle. Forgiving. These were all traits he wanted in his bloodline, traits he lacked and knew he lacked. Traits that Jiang Yanli possessed: matching strength to weakness, weakness to strength.

Nie Mingjue did not love Jiang Yanli, not yet, but if he was not willing to even trust her, it was better not to marry at all.

“Very well,” he said, deciding. “Are they waiting outside? We will go at once. Huaisang will make my excuses.”

“…Huaisang will?”

“He’ll stutter and obfuscate and make a tolerable mess of it,” Nie Mingjue said, not without a mixture of exasperation and fondness – he knew his brother too well. “And as a result they won’t know where or why we’ve gone for at least another half a shichen, if not more.”

(Knowing Nie Huaisang, he might ‘accidentally’ end up implying that Nie Mingjue had gone to enjoy some afternoon delight with his soon-to-be bride, but Nie Mingjue was too polite to mention something like that to Jiang Yanli.)

Jiang Yanli nodded, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know what it all means to you.”

“I can only give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, trying to be honest but probably coming off as harsh. “For the rest of it, I will decide when we are there.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have his sword, as always these days, and Wen Qing, shivering behind him, had lost hers, but Nie Mingjue brought along four Nie sect cultivators and ordered two to act as escorts, with the other two trailing behind in the event of trouble. He rather liked Wei Wuxian, especially after that stunt he’d pulled in protest of the Jin sect’s little shooting ‘entertainment’, but demonic cultivation was dangerous and Wei Wuxian’s mentality was said to be unstable. Nie Mingjue had lost so many of his own already - he was taking no chances.

“How did you know where they’re located, Chifeng-zun?” Wei Wuxian asked from where he was balancing behind a long-suffering Nie Zonghui. “I wouldn’t have thought the Jin sect shared that information.”

“Are you not familiar with the concept of spies?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice dry. Jiang Yanli, in his arms, giggled – she’d planned to send them along without her, looking disappointed and worried and resigned, and she’d brightened like a flower exposed to the sun when he’d informed her that she was coming along with them. She was accustomed to being left behind, and he intended to change that.

Besides, they were only going to the Qiongqi Path, which was solidly in Jin territory, to a prisoner of war camp staffed by Jin cultivators. It was hardly a dangerous expedition, and he did not expect to encounter anything that might be a threat, excluding perhaps his own temper.

His temper did, in fact, make an appearance.

“Jin Guangshan swore to Lan Xichen that the Wen remnants would be resettled peacefully,” he snarled, eyes red with rage and Baxia in his hand as the Jin sect cultivators - which had been tormenting the civilians here and that had gotten into Wei Wuxian’s face when he’d charged over first to shout at them - cowered in front of him. They were willing to challenge Wei Wuxian, but it seemed that Nie Mingjue was a different story – bullying the weak and cowering before the strong. Pathetic! “I had not realized that our understanding of the word peaceful was so different. Clearly I will need to have words with Sect Leader Jin.”

A hand touched his arm, and he looked down, surprised; virtually no one approached him when he was in a rage.

Jiang Yanli stood beside him, looking up at him fearlessly. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to chop them into pieces, it’ll be more effective to present them as evidence,” she said, and even smiled, as if they were sharing a joke between the two of them. “We can save the chopping for later. Following the trial that I’m certain Sect Leader Jin will insist upon.”

The Jin cultivators paled, clearly realizing that the likelihood of Sect Leader Jin standing behind them rather than immediately making them scapegoats was very low. They would be much more likely to spill whatever secrets they might have now, knowing that their fates depended more on Nie Mingjue’s mercy than on Jin Guangshan’s, than they would have even in the face of his threats.

Baxia grumbled in reluctant approval, and all of a sudden Nie Mingjue could not wait for Jiang Yanli to have a saber of her own and to cultivate its spirit – he thought it would be a very fine spirit indeed.

“Very well,” he allowed, and put Baxia back on his back, noting but ignoring the respectful looks his cultivators were sending Jiang Yanli. It was nothing more than what ought to be, the proper role of a Nie furen: to incite when appropriate, to restrain when necessary. “Zonghui, return to Lanling and bring a larger force so that we can transport the Wen civilians to safety. And – there’s no need for subtlety.”

By which he meant that he wanted every cultivator who could fly their own sword to be tagging along out of curiosity, and Nie Zonghui knew it. He saluted and left at once.

“What do we do now, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked anxious and young, clearly startled by the abrupt lack of violence and worried about Wen Ning – the young man had some nasty injuries that hadn’t been treated by the Jin sect, his body tossed away like so much refuse, but they’d arrived early enough that his sister was avidly working to care for him. She had said that his chances were good, since they had arrived before his consciousness had slipped away.

If they’d arrived later…

If Nie Mingjue hadn’t had the information ready to hand from the spies he disliked using, if Wei Wuxian had had to get the information out of the Jin sect directly, if he had had to ride here from Lanling rather than fly a sword, if he’d gotten stuck in that thunderstorm that was rapidly heading their way…

Well, that hadn’t happened. There was no point in wondering what if.

“Now? Nothing. We wait. Nie Xizhe, Wu Shude, take some of the Wen civilians and have them help you tie up all the Jin sect cultivators; I don’t want anyone sneaking away, and there’s not enough of us to guard them while they’re free. Wei Wuxian, walk with me.” He glanced to his side. “With us, I mean.”

Wei Wuxian obediently trotted over to where Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli were waiting, and Nie Mingjue led the three of them over to a nearby ridge where they could have a little privacy. The storm was getting ever closer, he noticed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “It’s just us now. What debt do you owe the Wens?”

Wei Wuxian froze. “Debt? I don’t – I already said –”

“There’s something you’ve left out,” Nie Mingjue said. “The way you act with them…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words. It wasn’t merely chivalrous altruism, nor even friendship, that was driving Wei Wuxian – he was desperate to help, manic with the need to do something; there was something else there. Some secret. He knew, because Nie Mingjue knew secrets and what they did to a man, even if he was keeping it for the best reasons in the world.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asked when Wei Wuxian said nothing, when Nie Mingjue said no more. “You know you can tell me, right?”

His lips were pressed together, his hand tight on his flute until his knuckles were white. He shook his head. “Shijie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask, please. Don’t.”

At least he’d admitted there was something.

“Your conduct is causing trouble for Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian turned tormented eyes on him, even as Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened on his. “It’s a Great Sect, but your brother is young, untried, and sensitive to criticism. It will be difficult for him to deal with the issues you present, especially if you persist in your present path of continuing with demonic cultivation instead of returning to the orthodox path of sword cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, looking pained.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “Absent yourself before you are forced to leave in truth. Go to the Cloud Recesses the way Lan Wangji continues to pester you about – see if you can’t tell him what secret it is that’s weighing down your tongue, if you can’t tell any of us – and come visit the Unclean Realm when you’re done there.”

Wei Wuxian was staring. Nie Mingjue ignored him.

“When you’re done with that, assign yourself the job of checking up on the Jiang sect’s dependent sects, or even just go around to visit every sect listed as having fought in the war, building relationships with them,” he continued briskly. “As for the reason, you’re clever, you’ll think of something. Get Wangji to teach you some healing spells and come help those in my sect who need it. Say that you’re using your demonic cultivation to help ferret out resentful energy in need of cleansing. Something. It doesn’t really matter what. But whatever you do, go. Give Yunmeng Jiang time to become as strong as it needs to be to protect you.”

“But it shouldn’t be protecting me,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I should be the one protecting it!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, and her expression was suddenly fierce. “Are you the eldest? No. I am. You are my A-Xian, my didi, and that means you are part of Yunmeng Jiang – we have as much right to protect you as you us, and don’t you forget it.”

“But – shijie –”

“I won’t hear another word,” she said. “I won’t! Whatever it is, A-Xian, you need to tell us eventually, or else we’ll all fall apart. Didn’t you both promise me that we’d stay together, the three of us, always? You can’t break that promise now.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wet with tears. “All right, shijie. I’ll figure something out.”

“Start with Gusu,” Nie Mingjue said again, uncomfortable with the display of emotions. “If you tell Lan Wangji the truth, he may even be able to help – in one way or another. Or don’t, it’s up to you. Just get yourself out of the public view. Earn some merits that aren’t related to slaughter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again, clearly overcome with feeling, and then promptly made up a flimsy excuse to leave, dashing away towards where Wen Qing was still working on her brother.

Jiang Yanli sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “Again. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him!”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Even if I have to pick him up and shake the secret out of him.”

Jiang Yanli smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, now a third time over.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “If you hadn’t brought this to my attention, I would be guilty of negligence in regard to the Wen sect remnants – and most of them civilians, no less. As for Wei Wuxian…he’s your didi, and so soon to be my brother-in-law. It’s nothing but what I should be doing.”

“Still,” she said. “I am grateful nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue looked down at her, fierce and yet patient, kind and righteous in her own quietly determined way, fearless enough to stand by his side and trusting him enough to come to him for help.

His heart moved in his chest.

He decided to be daring, as it had always served him well in the past – he stepped forward, closer to Jiang Yanli, and leaned down to press his lips to the corner of her mouth.

“It is what I should be doing,” he murmured, voice low. “Nie furen.”

Jiang Yanli’s face turned bright red, but she was smiling.

Yes, Nie Mingjue thought – he might not be able to promise love, but accepting Jiang Yanli’s show of initiative was definitely one of the better decisions he’d made.

[juniminabloom]

can you write a spider mobster x reader who is shy and gets flustered easily. the reader can be in the mob or not doesn’t matter to me

A/N: Of course!!  (Oh my god I wanted to write this so bad thank you) I didn’t know if you wanted headcanons or a oneshot, so I’ll be doing a oneshot :D I hope you enjoy! I’ll also be using @yanderes-of-inkwell ‘s headcanon names for the Spider Mobster and Light Bug. Charlie is the Spider and Lorie is the Light Bug. (In this oneshot, Charlie and Lorie were never married, only business partners.)

Spider Mobster X Reader: “My Bottle o’ Moonshine” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     1:30 AM. Early morning in the city of Inkwell Isle 4.  The city is peaceful, and at most times safe, except for when the cops go after the infamous Moonshine Mob. They own an illegal distillery business. They put most of their alcohol into their dough, which was sold to people who paid top-notch cash for it. Whenever the cops get into a scuffle with the mob, weapons are usually used in the middle of the streets, and in alleyways where the drunks hide out. Those are the times where the streets aren’t the best to be in- but it rarely ever happens. The mob is good at keeping secret.      This morning, nothing seems to be going out in the streets. Mostly everyone is asleep and the city is quiet. As someone who has trouble sleeping, you decided to take a walk outside and get some fresh air. The smell of cigarettes and spilled booze lingers in the air, but you’ve become so used to it from living here for so long. You only press the tip of your shirt to your nose and hold your breath when the smell is incredibly strong.      While taking your walk, you find an empty alleyway close to your apartment. There’s no noise, no bad smells, and it’s not particularly dirty. So, you decide to take a trip in it before heading back to your apartment to try and get some rest. While walking, the only sounds that can be heard are your footsteps, and your breathing. Quite relaxing.

     As you near the end of the alleyway, only now you notice that it was a dead end. There was no fork at the end allowing you to go left or right. Just a brick wall of another building. Well sh*t. You didn’t bring anything with you, like pepper spray or a pocket knife. At this point, you feel scared, and incredibly stupid. Of course you should have brought something to defend yourself, you’re literally living in a city with mobsters! You need to calm down. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, getting your thoughts together, But that’s all broken when you hear something rattle behind you.

     You whip your head around and see a shattered bottle a few feet behind you. Strange, that wasn’t there before... Conveniently, there’s a dumpster next to the mess, so you decide to clean it up, being careful not to cut yourself.  As you finish up moving the glass shards to the dumpster, you close the lid and turn around to be booped by a big red nose. “What are you doing here so early, angel face?~”

     The spider mobster, Charlie, stands there eerily close to you, a wide grin spread across his face. He seems to be awaiting your answer. “I- I, uh, um...” You stutter. You can’t make out a full sentence, out of your shyness, but mostly out of fear. Sure, they didn’t cause big crimes like murder, but it’s still not a good thing being this close to one of the most feared in the Isles.

     His smile drops, and he backs up a bit. You still stand there, backed up against the dumpster, fearing for what he might do. He looks you up and down and meets your stare again, his smile returning. “So you’re not gonna answer me, huh? How cute. You scared or somethin’?” You slowly nod your head, and he gives you an almost sympathetic look.      “Oh, doll, I don’t mean to scare ya. I wouldn’t hurt ya’ either.” He steps closer and reaches a hand out to caress your face, but you slightly shrink down. He pulls his hand away, losing his sympathetic face and replacing it with an irked grin. “Fine, you win this time. But this ain’t the last you’ll see of me, sugar~” And he scurries away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     After you’ve headed home, you can’t take your mind off of the encounter. Strange. And what was with those nicknames..?

     Not wanting to think about it, you finally decide to get some shuteye. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “So you finally talked to them? How did it go?” “It went well enough. They got scared though, and lost their words. I rate the first meeting... an 8/10.” “8/10?” Said the light bug, Lorie. Lorie was also a part of the mob, and a good friend to Charlie. She knew about the feelings he held for Y/N. “Yeah. Not much said, but I got to finally see them.”

     Lorie smirked at him, which made his cheeks burn. “Well, are you gonna see them again?~” “I- I don’t know how. That was only pure coincidence. I also don’t know why they were up so late.” “Hmm, they were in an alleyway, right? Maybe you could head back there and wait? If they end up back in the alleyway, you can try and strike up a conversation!” Lorie said optimistically. Charlie smiled, clearly liking the idea. “Sure Lorie, I’ll give it a try. Thanks.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     1 AM. You still can’t get some sleep. You decide to go on another walk outside. And while doing so, you keep thinking about him. About Charlie. You strangely want to see him again.      So you walk in the direction of the alleyway where you two first met. You peek your head around the corner, but it’s too dark to really see anything. You cautiously walk in, looking around frantically in case there’s any dangers- like the city drunks or kidnappers. This time, you brought some pepper spray, so you were prepared.      As you walked, you got closer to the dumpster, and you noticed a piece of paper left where the glass pile was. Squatting down to examine it, you noticed your name in the top-left corner, in scribbled handwriting. It was a letter. With hearts on it? You picked up the paper, still squatting down, and you read it.      “Y/N, So our first meeting must’ve been a bit shocking to you. I’m sorry if I had scared you. I just wanted to have a conversation, but I guess we had to call it short. I have something I’d like to tell you in person. I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. Try not to lose your words. I’d just love to talk. <3″

     Not knowing what to say or how to react, you just sat there, clutching the paper, your heart beating faster than every before, a calm blush covering your cheeks. Gathering your thoughts together, you were determined to find this mystery-man. Although, by the things written in the letter, you had an idea of who it could be.

     So you stood up, and started slowly walking to the end of the alleyway, looking around for anyone. But no one was on the ground. They’re on the wall.      “There! They’re walking to the end, go, go, go!” Lorie whisper-yelled. “But what if I screw it up? What if they run away?” Charlie asked, clearly nervous. “Just play it cool. I’m sure everything will go fine.” Lorie told him. “Now go!”

    So Charlie slinked down quietly from the wall to the ground, sneaking up behind Y/N. You didn’t notice, being that he was a very quiet fellow- when he needed to be.

*Ahem* “How are you o-on this fine m-morning?” You whipped your head around, shocked at the sudden voice. But it was him. You let out an internal sigh of relief and turned to face him.  Examining his facial expression, he was flustered, but trying to play it cool. It made you smile.

     “Um, uh, I-I’m good. Is there a reason why y-you’re here?” You stuttered. “You got the letter, r-right?” You nodded, and held up the sheet of paper. His cheeks started to turn a shade of red, and it made you slightly giggle that such a tough mobster got flustered talking to you. 

     “Then, uh, I have something to tell you. Even though this is our second time meeting, I’ve always seen you from afar. When you walk home from work, when your eating out, I’ve always seen you. Sometimes, it’s made me sad that I couldn’t stop and talk to you. I had a job to do. But when we met face-to-face last night, I couldn’t help but fall. You just seemed, in my eyes- perfect.”

     “What I’m trying to say is, I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     You gave him a shot. And it was beautiful.      It’s been a year, and today is the very day you two tried it out.  He still works for the mob, but whenever he doesn’t have business to do, he makes sure to spend every moment by your side. He cares for you so much. When you headed out of your apartment door for work, there was a note in the same adorable scribbled handwriting.      “Hey doll, It’s a special day today, isn’t it? I’d like to take you out for a treat. Meet me in the place where we first met at 6 PM. I love you~ -C”

     Your heart swelled with joy and love upon reading that. You were excited to know what he had planned! But it was time for work now. So you stuffed the paper in your bag and headed off, blowing a small kiss on your way out, hoping it would find it’s way to him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Turning into the alleyway, you could see him already there, and when he laid his eyes on you, his cheeks were as red as his big button nose. You couldn’t help but smile. “There’s my sweetheart!” He exclaimed, and he rushed over to you, wrapping you in a soft and loving hug. “Hi honey!” You giggled, planting a small kiss on his cheek, he returned the favor, peppering kisses all over yours.      “Do you wanna see what I have prepared for us?” He asked, his eyes twinkling. You nodded your head, and he walked over to a record player, and placed a vinyl in it. It started to play.

     Charlie headed back over to you, grasped your hands, and the two of your started to dance to the melody. It was a song you knew well- “If I Didn’t Care”. The two of you danced, never breaking eye contact, never losing a smile. A small tear slipped down Charlie’s eye as he saw how lovely you were. You made his life so much better.      “I love you, Y/N.”

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Sister's Best Friend

Carol Danvers X Natasha's Sister Reader Smut

Word count: 3,589

Includes: fingering, oral and face sitting

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You groaned as you heard your sister's bed hitting the wall repeatedly and the occasional loud moan. She really had no shame, or consideration.

It was annoying enough for you that she was interrupting Teenage Bounty Hunters but did she really have to give you this reminder of how single you were? It had been way too long since you got laid.

It was rare to have the opportunity to spend time with your sister. Her work life as an Avenger dug into her personal life big time but despite being a huge work-o-holic, Natasha refused to ever let it ruin the irreplaceable relationship you too had.

So of course you had lept at the chance to go away with her for a week. You knew she was going to bring Wanda; you weren't mad at that though, in fact you were ecstatic because you loved to see your sister in the company of someone she was able to connect with in ways no one else could. They made each other happy, and it made you happy to see. (Although you weren't appreciating hearing the evidence of their sex life.)

But your sister had failed to inform you Carol would also be staying with you. You knew a lot people would give their left arm to be in Carol's company for a week. But you had had a crush on the blonde hero for so long you struggled to be around her without becoming a flustered mess.

Nat knew this. Everyone who knew you knew this. Except Carol. It was hard to cover up the intense blushing and stumbling of words that only occurred when Carol was flirting or just being near you.

Despite Nat's constant teasing about it and pushing you to do something about your crush on her friend, you knew nothing would ever come of it. Carol seemed like a worse work-o-holic than Nat. Definetly not someone who was looking for a relationship. At least, that was what you had assumed.

With a heavy sigh, you turned up the volume on the television but the thudding continued to echo around the house making you cover your ears with your hands and stare at the television.

"Fuck her and her great sex life." You mumbled begrudgingly but froze when you heard a familiar laugh that made your stomach flip.

"You never heard them before?" Carol asked as she leant against the door frame and looked at you with an amused grin.

You had to remind yourself to breathe for a moment as you realized your crush was standing a foot away from you in only an oversized shirt and shorts that you couldn't see. It was only an assumption she even had them on.

You blushed slightly and stared at the tv again - afraid she would notice that your gaze had lingered a little too long on her long, toned legs, afraid she somehow knew you had imagined those legs around your head for a split second.

"Er no." You laughed nervously. What the fuck was wrong with you?! Carol may be an enhanced human, but she was still human. You should be able to function around a human, even if she was illegally hot.

You were caught off guard when Carol slumped down on the sofa next to you; her shirt riding up enough for you to realise she was not, in fact, wearing shorts. You gulped and figited slightly on the sofa.

"I've lost count but my god it doesn't get any less annoying. They're always sneaking off at parties thinking no one can hear, they're lucky I always distract people to another area so they never get busted. Not even a thank you." Carol huffed before glancing at the TV that was showing some sort of action scene now, it was hardly something you were going to pay attention to now.

"She can be inconsiderate." You nodded. "One time I made extra cookies and without even asking she just took the extra ones." You recalled sadly, still mourning the loss of that perfect batch.

You instantly stopped when you realised the two things had zero correlation and you must have appeared just as annoying as your sister to Carol. But when you glanced over at her you saw she was smiling at you in that impossibly cute way made the smile lines around her eyes prominent.

"You must have been livid." She joked. You could only nod.

Your conversation had apparently come to an end and the only thing filling the silence was the TV and the occasional moan. At least the bed had stopped thudding.

You suddenly wondered if Carol felt uncomfortabke being there. Did she want to leave? Should you offer to drive her? You glanced over at her only to see she was already looking at you. Studying you. As though those piercing brown eyes could see every inch of your soul. You felt extremely nervous under her gaze and you hated the familiar feeling of your face heating up. Yet you couldn't help but sneak a glance back at the blonde woman.

She had a mischievous smirk across her lips that made her look more kissable than usual. You gulped as she shifted closer to you on the sofa while you kept your eyes glued to the tv, even when you felt her soft fingers dance lightly on your leg.

You wanted to melt from the simple touch because - unlike her - you were wearing shorts and having your legs crossed made them rise up way too much.

Her warm breath tickled your neck and sent goosebumps throughout your body and left your core throbbing for attention. You hated that it was so easy for her to have that effect on you.

Carol's fingers become a little less light and were now starting to caress your lower thigh. Your breathing increased rapidly along with your need for her but you didn't dare voice those thoughts. Even when her palm came into contact with your skin and pressed down firmly.

"Do I make you nervous, y/n?" She whispered into your ear softly and you couldn't respond. You couldn't get yourself to produce any words as you were so caught up in the movements from her hand.

Carol chuckled slightly and you felt your body become weak from the simple sound. She bit down on your earlobe softly and you had to bite on your lip to stop a moan escaping your mouth.

The gorgeous woman pulled away slightly to look you dead in the eye and your breath caught in your throat. Her eyes seemed darker than usual; as though she was planning a crime in her head and you found yourself thinking you would go along with whatever she asked of you.

Her brown eyes travelled down your face and once they arrived at your lip that was still captured between your teeth she groaned in frustration.

Before you could question what she was doing she pushed you down and pinned you against the arm rest of the sofa. You winced at the pain in your back but found the heat between your legs ignite like a fire and couldn't stop the slight moan.

You widened your eyes in shock at what you'd done but quickly shut them when you felt her soft lips collide with your own. She kissed you desperately, as though she was finally getting something she had wanted for a long time and you didn't hesitate to return the pace and even laced your fingers in her long, silky hair. You tried to push her towards you more but she pulled away to your disappointment.

"Fuck. Finally." She muttered as she positioned herself to straddle your waist then returned to you. Except her lips went past your own and instead attached them to your neck.

You moaned loudly as you felt her come into contact with your sweet spot so quickly. She took this with a new kind of vigour and bit down on the spot making you grip her hair harshly.

The blonde hero then sucked on your skin and you didn't question it for a moment, too caught up in the feeling of her lips against your own and wondering how amazing it would feel if she did that motion somewhere else.

When she pulled away she gazed down at your neck with a proud smirk and traced the mark gently with her finger then kissed you on the lips quickly.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." She said with a slight laugh.

"Kiss me?" You asked hopefully and she nodded as she leant back to sit on your waist.

"That and mark you as mine." You couldn't help but get extremely turned on at her words. "I've wanted you for the longest time now, y/n." She admitted with confidence as she played with the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slightly to exposed the lower half of your stomach.

She put both hands on your stomach and ran them across the exposed skin. It felt like you were on fire. The contact was one you had craved from her for a while.

"Me too." You said breathlessly, still not over how her lips had felt against my neck. Carol caught onto this and tore her gaze away from your stomach to look at you.

"Breathless already?" You blushed at her question and turned your head to the side.

She moved to lay against you and kissed your jaw as her hands wondered up your shirt, your mind too clouded to remember you weren't wearing a bra under your bed clothes.

However, this fact was brought to your attention when you felt her soft hands cup your breasts under your top. Your eyes shot open and she moaned slightly against you as she felt your hardened nipples that were begging to be touched by her.

She granted their wish and pinched them lightly between her thumb and finger making you moan out in response. She did all this while kissing down your neck again and leaving more hickeys on either side.

Your back arched slightly from the attention and you pulled her face towards yours to kiss her again. She happily obliged to this and bit down softly on your lip. You moaned slightly and parted your lips to let her tongue roam your mouth. Your tongues danced together before Carol's tongue brushed along your teeth and the roof of your mouth, only pulling away to breath before attaching your lips again.

Her hands wondered back down your stomach and rested at the hem of your shorts. You were caught off guard by her hand wondering further only to pull the elastic of your panties towards her and let them go so they snapped against your skin.

You whimpered a little at the motion making Carol smirk against you. She started to massage your upper thighs firmly, occassionly letting her fingers under your shorts only to retract soon after.

You were starting to get frustrated at the repetitive action, wanting her fingers to go further and stay there.

Carol tapped either side of your hips lightly and it took you a moment to understand what she meant. You lifted your hips slightly and moaned when you felt your cores rub together for a split second. Carol pulled your shorts down to your ankles and flung them across the room, not caring about them now they were separated from you.

She stopped kissing you to look at your now bare legs and rested her hand on your panties, letting her finger dip slightly to feel the outline of your pussy lips and the soaked fabric that covered them.

Carol groaned when she realised how wet you were and looked up at you with a dark glint in her eye that was unmistakably lust.

"Is this all for me?" She whispered as she rubbed you through your panties making you squirm slightly beneath her, hating that there was a barrier between you.

"Yes." You breathed out and tried to push your hips up into her but she placed a hand on either side and firmly pushed you back down.

Her dominance only turned you on more as you lay waiting for her to stop her sweet torture and finally give you what you wanted.

Her fingers travelled along the elastic of your panties and she dipped a finger in to stroke your lower lips. You tried to hold your moans back but this was apparently the opposite of what the blonde wanted.

She grabbed your chin in her free hand so you had to look at her, hovering over you like an angel.

"Don't stop yourself. I want to hear those pretty little moans of yours." You could only whimper out a response as you nodded your head eagerly.

Suddenly, you felt a single finger slip into your pussy and you couldn't help but moan out loudly.

It had been so long since you had been touched there, and the fact that it was by someone as beautiful as Carol made things even hotter.

"Good girl." Carol growled with satisfaction and kissed you hard as she slipped her finger fully into you.

You tangled your fingers into her hair again to hold her close to you as she pulled her finger out only to have it return quickly, not realising that everytime she did her palm would press against your clit making the pleasure increase.

She pulled your panties down with her free hand and you eagerly spread your legs in response to give her better access. As soon as you did she slipped a second finger inside with ease and pumped it into you in unison with the first.

"So fucking wet." She muttered between kisses and you moaned more as you felt a gush of wetness hit her fingers at those words.

She started to speed up as her thrusts became harsher, slamming into you at a pace that mirrored you heartbeat.

You started to rock with hips along with her thrusts, desperate to feel as much of her as you could and almost screamed when you felt her fingers curl up to hit your g-spot. It made my body resonate with fire and you threw your head back in pleasure, not believing you were being fingered by someone so beautiful and skilled.

When she pushed a third finger into you you moaned louder and gripped onto the back of her shirt to try to handle the intense amount of pleasure you were feeling. It was like you needed something to help you hold onto reality while the girl ontop of you was rocking your world.

From that reaction, Carol started to fuck you at a harder, rougher pace. Everytime her fingers hit the edge of your pussy you couldn't help but cry out her name along with a string of moans and profanities.

You didn't want it to end, but the pressure was starting to build up in my core, Carol could tell by your walls squeezing around her fingers.

Your body's desperate attempt to keep her inside of you was futile as she instead took this with a new kind of vigour and fucked you faster.

"Carol...please...don't stop!" You begged not caring how you sounded. You just needed her with you, ontop of you and inside you to help you through the high you were about to experience.

"Cum for me." She encouraged and bit down on the top of your neck. With a caress of her fingers you came undone beneath her, screaming her name as you came harder than you ever had before.

You continued to cling onto her back as she helped you through your orgasm by slowing her pace and watching you experience that extreme amount of pleasure that was caused by her.

You kept your eyes shut as you tried to regain your breathing. You were so focused on that and your now throbbing pussy that you were hardly aware of Carol's weight leaving you.

When your eyes finally fluttered open you saw that she had positioned herself between your legs - just inches away from your pussy - and was looking up at you with her signature mischievous grin as she licked each of her fingers clean.

You knew it was her pre-warning that she wasn't done. You were so exhausted that with any other person you would deny them any more, but the after effects of your orgasm were enough to remind you of how she could make you feel with her fingers. You were dying to know what she could do with her tongue.

Carol smirked when you nodded your head and kissed her inner thighs, working her way closer to your core. She flicked her tongue against your bundle of sensitive nerves causing you to lean back and grip onto her hair again as you watched her.

You could feel her smirk against you as she ran her tongue up through your folds then latched onto your clit, sucking hard as you moaned loudly and wrapped your legs around her head to push her into you as much as possible. You wanted to feel her tongue against every inch of your core.

At that thought, she sunk her tongue into you, making you gasp out at the motion before throwing your head back to moan in unison with her.

Feeling the vibrations from her mouth enhanced the pleasure that you could only express by pulling on her hair harder and squeezing your thighs around her.

Her tongue roamed your pussy like she was trying to memorize every inch of it and you loved it. The muscle moved around desperately, hitting all the right spots that made you shudder.

Every time her tongue pressed on one of those areas she withdrew to bite down on your lips making you groan from such an amazingly sharp pain. You couldn't help but wonder if she had a biting fetish or something - not that you were complaining.

Once her tongue dove into your core again you felt her thumb press firm circles around your clit that made your hips raise off of the sofa.

Carol withdrew her thumb to push your hips down again and held you there as her tongue continued to work wonders inside you.

You could feel yourself start to get close to your second orgasm with Carol as your walls started to clench around Carol's tongue, hoping it would stay inside you but instead pushing it out.

She brought her thumb up to your clit again and pressed down directly on it making you moan louder than before and arch you back in ecstasy as you came on Carol's tongue.

You gripped her hair and squeezed your thighs, desperate to keep the beautiful hero where she was to help you ride out your high.

Carol happily accepted this as you felt her tongue desperately move around inside of you in an attempt to get to every last bit of cum she made you release.

She then licked up your lips one last time before lifting herself up to grin triumphantly at you.

You smiled back and - despite your exhaustion - pulled her up with her legs either side of me and guided her towards your head.

She smirked as she realised what you wanted to do before giving you a questioning look.

"Aren't you tired?" You nodded. "That's why I'm staying laying down." You stated matter-of-factly as you pulled her panties, eager to see and taste her.

The moment you pulled her onto your mouth she gasped out. You didn't hesitate to suck on her clit softly, loving the initial taste of her wetness. You got the response you were hoping for and felt her hold onto your hair as she adjusted her position slightly.

You then licked up her folds and moaned at the sweet taste of her that instantly left you wanting more. You sucked on her folds to further please your taste buds and her as you gripped her butt.

You then bravely dipped your tongue inside her earning a loud moan from the woman ontop of you. She started to grind herself onto your tongue and you smiled proudly as you pushed your tongue the rest of the way in and relished in the taste of Carol.

After a few minutes of altering between sucking on her folds and sinking your tongue into her, Carol started to moan your name like a prayer. It was music to your ears that made your stomach flip and core start to heat up again.

Her movements against your mouth started to become more erratic and you knew with one swipe of your tongue you could make her come undone above you.

Excited at the possibility, you sucked on her clit harshly and heard her scream your name before feeling her warm liquid on your tongue that you eagerly lapped up.

Carol shuddered ontop of you before letting go of your hair and falling down beside you.

"Guess we're the inconsiderate ones for once." Carol laughed, you felt yourself blush as you realized just how loud you had both been. Although you didn't regret a second of it.

"Stay in my room tonight?" You asked with a burst of confidence.

Carol smiled at you and leaned over to kiss you on the lips passionately.

"I would love to." She smirked. You smiled at her answer as you wrapped your arms around her neck before falling into another deep kiss that wouldn't be the last.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

ALL MINE

or: it’s easy to have a good time, if you don’t mind getting a little messy - all it takes is meringue, cream, and strawberries.

the long-awaited finale of LOVE HEART! gn!reader, domestic fluff to smut, absolutely and without exception minors dni. this is… a lot more explicit than i thought it was going to be - i really didn’t think i had this in me, but what @ejunkiet wants, @ejunkiet gets! i hope this does the hot boi summer aesthetic justice :) sweetheart’s a brit because i say so - it’s not necessary for the plot, but quite frankly i think it’s a crime that eton mess and trifle don’t exist in america, and this is my only way of promoting them, so there you go. @solclaw is the source of all knowledge, and i am making trifle in their honour - rowan darling there is always an extra bowl for you! 

sweetheart is gender neutral, and their anatomy is not described. milo’s skin is stated to be of an appropriate colour to show love bites, but no specific colour is mentioned and the reader’s skin is not described at all. milo being an excellent sous chef for just over 3600 words.

this fic contains explicit content, and is 18+ only. minors please do not interact with this one i am BEGGING you. thank you.

“sweetheart, you’ve, uh… you’ve got a little somethin’ just there…”

“here?”

“a little higher, to the left - no, no, your left - let me just-”

he licks his thumb and strokes it over your cheek, wiping away the stickiness as your lips pull into a very familiar smirk. christ, he knows that look, knows what it means when you run your tongue over your teeth, eyebrow cocked and head tilted to the right - it usually means that whatever you’re about to say probably isn’t fit for polite company.

“it’s not fair - how come i always get it all over my face?”

damn that mouth of yours - even when he knows it’s coming, you still get him blushing up a storm. “not my fault you’re such a messy eater, sweetheart. maybe i oughta have you wearin’ an apron next time.”

you smack lightly him in the arm with the wooden spoon, laughing at his mock-outraged expression as you go back to your cake batter. “go and get me one then, lover boy. it’s weird to hear you telling me to put on clothes, though.”

he… yeah, he doesn’t really have a comeback to that.

the two of you have been in the kitchen all morning, putting together the desserts for david’s birthday party this afternoon. it’s pretty fucking warm today, early summer and all, so you’ve got all the windows open and the fan going full blast to try and balance out the heat from the oven. both of you are sweating from the humidity, so he’s can’t really be surprised you’d forgone the apron for a little while.

david always insists that he doesn’t want anything for his birthday, but the rest of the pack - as happens every year, and’ll probably happen until the end of time - has other ideas. about a month ago, his mate had sent him off on some errand or other and got straight on a video call with you, sam, and ash’s mate to get something together.

(he still can’t figure out how the four of you seem to read each other’s minds, ‘cause the lot of you can be fucking terrifying when you’re on a mission. if he’s honest, he’s still not recovered from that goddamn prank with the door, and he knows that ash has lived in permanent fear of sam’s overhand serve ever since his mate had made the dubiously-successful suggestion of late-night tennis. it’s got to be something to do with this secretive “mates’ group chat” he’s heard legends of…)

(it gets a little more complicated when you’ve got to get the actual wolves involved, but david’s mate is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to organising shit. jesus, it’s like they’re the alpha, sometimes, and you’ve told him that you’ve met superiors at DUMP that are less intimidating. it’s no bad thing - that’s what you need when you’re dealing with a crack team like the one right here.)

(well, maybe less of a crack team, and more of a team on crack, but that’s what you get for trying to get him and ash to actually stop bickering and decide on a playlist or whatever.)

in any case, the pair of you have been put in charge of desserts for today - well, nobody was going to have ash go anywhere near anything that needed to be edible, and sam had declined politely, saying something about how “unless david’s developed a taste for O negative, i might not be too much help in the caterin’ department”. fair enough.

it doesn’t help that basically the whole pack is coming, and wolves aren’t exactly known for their, uh, delicate eating habits. you’re going to need a lot of food, and as if that wasn’t enough, you’re going to have to impress david fucking shaw. looks like the fridge is going to be working overtime in this weather, huh?

you’d taken it as a challenge, which meant that yesterday evening had been dedicated to all of the shit that needed to set overnight: tiramisu, cheesecake, chocolate tart, caramel shortbread… he doesn’t know how the hell you managed to balance it all in the fridge, but he’s not touching it, not a chance.

(it’s got to the point where he had to ask you to grab him another can of soda off the shelf because he wasn’t looking to accidentally knock something over - you’d thought it was funny, but he’d been dead serious! that new flavour you bought - the ones in the pink cans? - is really good, especially in this heat, but it’s not worth a dessert catastrophe, alright?)

(he’s especially not going near the trifle on the middle shelf - it looks pretty freaking impressive, what with all the layers and shit, but he doesn’t need you mad at him for swiping one of the raspberries off the top.)

(he remembers you making it last time, when his ma’d come over for lunch at the weekend, and you’d damn near kicked his shit in for accidentally trying to put the custard in before the cream. let’s just say he’d got the message loud and clear - he doesn’t get in the way when you make trifle any more.)

this morning’s endeavours have got you two dashing about trying to get the last few desserts finished, in a flurry of buttercream and baking powder. neither of you could remember whether david likes chocolate or vanilla more, and his mate’s not picking up, so you’d just made both - the victoria sponge is cooling on the rack over by the microwave, and the chocolate cake’s just come out of the oven.

fuck, it’s hot in here today.

the morning is almost unbearably humid, sun beating down outside between a few, sparse clouds. looks like you’re both going to need a shower before you go, as if there wasn’t enough to do. his shirt’s unbuttoned, sleeves pushed up to the elbows and collar hanging open, and he’d be tempted to take it off entirely if he didn’t know that when he does that, you almost always end up late.

you’ve got all of the ingredients for cream puffs (at least, he thinks that’s what they’ll be? you’d rattled off some fancy name, and he’d just kind of nodded and gone back to his strawberry mousse) laid out on the counter, while he slices up some kiwi for the fruit salad.

he’s not bad at cooking, by any means, but you’re the pro when it comes to desserts - he’s really just your sous chef today, and the system seems to be working pretty well.

(hey, it’s not like he minds you bossing him around a bit. he certainly hasn’t been complaining about the view today, seeing as the warm weather’s got you wearing a little less than normal.. and christ, when you do that thing where you grab him by the hips to move him out of the way? you know exactly what that does to him, you little minx.)

speaking of b- wait, what the hell are you- “sweetheart, what on earth…?”

you appear to be bashing the ever-loving shit out of the meringues he’d bought from the store yesterday with a rolling pin, and a plume of powdered sugar drifts up out of the bowl to get blown apart by the fan as you look up at him.

“eton mess,” you say, as if that explains everything. “can you pass me the strawberries?”

you’ve eaten what? he takes a big gulp of soda and watches as you tip the strawberries into the massive bowl, followed by an equally-enormous helping of whipped cream, and start mixing it all together. is that all you’re going to do? oh, wait, you’re adding a few handfuls of blueberries and… yeah, you’re just carrying it over to the fridge.

“it’s really nice, actually. sweetened cream, fruit, and smashed-up meringue. plus, it’s meant to look like a trainwreck because it literally has mess in the name, so david can’t complain.”

actually, that’s a pretty good idea. he drops the empty can into the trash, already missing the coolness of the metal on his warm skin, and reaches for another kiwi. “well then, i’ll guess have to try some when we get there, won’t i?”

you stop just in front of him on your path to the fridge, holding the bowl in one arm, and catch his wrist with the other.

“...sweetheart?”

“we have to be there at 1, right?”

what’s that look on your face? yeah, that’s what the text from ash’s mate had said. “well, the party actually starts at 2, but we gotta give the others a hand setting up, first. why?”

“did you want to try some now?”

he’s not quite sure what you mean, and your fond little huff tells him that he’s probably making that dumb expression that you keep telling him is cute, but he thinks is plain embarrassing.

“the eton mess, genius. want some?”

well, it can’t hurt, can it? not if you’re offering, surely. plus, you’d just said it was supposed to look all jumbled up, so nobody’ll miss a little bit of cream off the top. he reaches behind him to grab a teaspoon when-

“mmmm, it’s really sweet.”

his jaw drops. he swallows heavily, very glad that he hadn’t had a mouthful of soda, watching as you finish licking the cream off your fingers and hum contentedly. there’s a tiny smudge of powdered sugar just by the corner of your lip.

“baby, you gotta…”

the thought tapers off into nothing as you dip your finger back into the bowl and swipe it through the cream, looking up from your hand to meet his gaze. “don’t worry, honey. i already washed my hands.”

your other hand deposits the dessert on the kitchen table behind you, and comes to slide around his waist, under his shirt, as you move closer. idly, he feels your fingers playing with the back of his waistband. his own hands, still sticky with kiwi juice, hover just over your hips.

“go on. try some.”

no need to tell him twice. he leans down and licks your finger into his mouth.

mmmm, you were right, it is good. the sweet cream tastes like vanilla and strawberries, and the crunchy pieces of meringue melt slowly in his mouth. he swirls his tongue around the tip of your finger, eyes closed, lapping up the drops of strawberry juice in the creases and spirals of your fingerprint.

your other hand is digging insistently into his back now, fingernails pressing into the muscle there as his teeth graze across your skin, biting gently at the pad of your fingertip before releasing it from his mouth with an exaggerated pop.

“...how was it?” you’re both breathless, not an inch of space between you as he slowly licks his lips.

“i’m not too sure, sweetheart,” as he spins you both around so you’re leaning up against the counter, “i might need another taste to make sure.”

your answering grin only lasts a split second before he’s kissing you, all tongue and teeth and powdered sugar. sticky hands come up to cup your jaw as you greedily reciprocate, hastily untying the knot of your apron behind you.

everything is hot, the fiery heat of your lips against his as he growls softly into your mouth, and he briefly thinks that he probably ought to put the bowl behind you in the fridge before you get too distracted.

the thought is quickly forgotten when he feels you start to play with the tab of his zipper - he tips his head back and gasps as you press burning kisses down his throat, nipping at his adam’s apple.

“baby, baby - aghhh…”

you smile against his skin, cheek resting on his shoulder. “too much?”

“no, nonono, it’s good, ‘s really, really, oh, sweethea- fuckfuckfuckplease-!”

his brain goes delightfully blank as your fingers dip inside the elastic of his boxers and close around his cock. the pressure is just enough to have him groaning, hips twitching forwards into your hand, slow strokes just the way you know he likes.

head spinning, he pulls hazily at the hem of your shirt, too drunk on your touch to hear your laughter (he can’t quite tell if you’re calling him “needy” or “pretty”, and it really could be either), too desperate to worry about the careless way he’s practically tearing your clothes off you.

whatever it was, he’ll buy you a new one.

now that he thinks about it, with what little brainpower he can summon, this is probably why you asked him what time the party started.

“let - hahhh - sweetheart, let me touch you too,” he’s burying himself in your neck frantically, pushing his face against the sweet spot under your jaw, “wanna touch, want you feelin’ good, let m- shit, right there- sweetheart!”

you nod, regretfully withdrawing your hand as he hoists you up to sit on an empty part of the counter, between a stack of cookbooks and the side of the fridge. as soon as you’re settled, he wastes no time in pulling your face back down for another kiss while you shimmy out of the rest of your clothes.

you dangle your shirt just at the edge of his vision, showing off the unfortunate rip in the side seam that couldn’t possibly have been his fault, but you’re quickly placated by his teeth skimming over your now-bare collarbone.

he’s fairly sure you forget about it entirely when he makes good on his promises - one arm hooks around your shoulder and up to the far side of your head to nestle your face down into his neck, and the other runs over your chest and down your stomach until he finds what he’s looking for.

“nnnng, milo- ah!” your stifled keening goes straight to his head as you rock into his hand, voice breaking as he works you harder. he always knows how to make you sloppy, slick snaps of his wrist just where you’re most sensitive. “more, more, need it, yesyesyes-”

he shushes you softly, kissing the top of your head while he makes you see stars. “that’s it, sweetheart, mate, my mate, so good, so so good, that’s my baby…”

your hands scrabble to push his shirt off his shoulders, but it doesn’t quite work with his arm up by your head as he keeps you upright, cheek now against his chest. instead, you settle for reaching back down to stroke him faster this time, feeling more than hearing the growl that shudders through him as you tease the tip.

he feels the pleased thrumming of your mate bond, right in his chest where you’re pressed against him, and curses lowly as you kiss just over where the magic settles. goddamn, does it feel good when you’re both all blissed out like this - heady pleasure ricochets across the bond, building and building inside, misting in his mind until he’s not sure where he ends and you begin.

both of you are shaking now, sticky with sweat and eyes screwed shut as you prop each other up. he knows he’s getting close, faster than usual, but he doesn’t want to stop so soon, especially not when you - fucking hell, when you twist your hand like tha- haaah…

“sweetheart - sweetheart, please, can i…?”

he doesn’t even get the whole question out, although that’s probably for the best seeing as he’s not sure his love-drunk brain can manage full sentences right now. you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist and urging him closer to you, one hand on his shoulder and the other spreading yourself open for him.

“yeah, yeah, please, milo i need you, love you, love you so much…” he can tell that you’re having as much trouble as he is with words, but even so your voice is equal parts lust and love as you lean in to sweetly kiss his nose. fuck, you’re hot, and he can’t help but smile softly at the adoration on your face when he presses his forehead to yours, reaching up to gently smooth his thumb over your cheek.

the world goes blurry for a second as he pushes into you - you’re so warm, so slick and tight, aching for him to fill you, hold you, please you. the mate bond in his chest is white-hot and happy, sparking with joy as you tug him closer. he sets a decent pace, a little faster than normal, savouring the way you stutter and whine with pleasure into his skin.

“feels - mmf! - you, you, i-” the stack of cookbooks by your hip totters as you hastily push it aside, limbs clumsy and breath hitching.

“i, yeah, i know, ‘s good, so fucking perfect, sweetheart-!”

he grinds his cock deeper and deeper, laying you back on the counter and pressing his weight down over your body. the change in angle lets him nudge up against that sweet spot that has you gasping for air, back arching up into him and hot, needy tears threatening to spill over.

he feels the sudden burst of ecstasy as it rushes through you and overflows into your bond, and he moans, long and broken, into your neck. your hand slips between your bodies, lower and lower, so he tilts his hips just a little to give you the room you need to - shit, he loves watching you make yourself feel good, and the way you tighten and tense around him is almost, almost too much.

every instinct tells him to mark you, his mate, and he feels his teeth start to ache as you rock up into him.

he licks over your pulse, feels it pounding under his tongue, and wordlessly urges you to do the same. your free arm loops around him and your fingers tangle into his hair as you seek out the fading hickeys on his neck, a satisfied hum swelling in your chest as new ones blossom in the wake of your mouth.

his teeth dig into your shoulder when you leave a particularly dark love bite just above his collarbone, and he can tell that neither of you are going to last much longer.

“milo, milo- nnnng, so much, can’t… please!”

giddy with pleasure, he threads his arm under your waist to press right back into that sweet spot inside you, the heat of you too much to bear. “yeah, s’okay, sweetheart, s’okay, let go - baby, fuck, mine, my mate, all m- haahh-!”

his core sings with yours, desire and love and bliss washing over the bond and sloshing around in his chest. somehow, his lips find yours, and for a second - no, an hour - no, forever, he and you are paradise.

slowly, the world begins to filter back in, and he watches fondly as you grab the side of the fridge to pull yourself upright.

“how- how long do we have?” your voice is soft and a little hoarser than before.

he blinks up at the clock over by the doorway. “it’s… nearly half past eleven?”

your eyes meet, and you sigh once before pushing him back a step and letting him help you down off the counter. he’s sure that he probably looks totally fucked out right now, hair a mess and eyes still a little dreamy, but he helps you into the bathroom and leaves you to shower.

(he’d much prefer to shower with you, but he knows exactly how that’s going to end, and neither of you need david’s mate yelling at you for turning up late. he’ll be damned if ash and his mate beat you there again.)

walking back into the kitchen, he picks up the remains of both of your clothes and heads towards the bedroom to put them in the laundry hamper, remembering halfway through that he needs to put your bowl of meringue-cream-whatever in the fridge. and finish cutting the fruit. and melt the chocolate, and turn the cake out of the pan, and-

the sound of running water in the bathroom stops. he’ll do it in a minute.

-

surprisingly, you do actually make it to david’s house mostly on time, although unfortunately not before ash catches you two running in from the car. he smiles wickedly as he opens his mouth, presumably to say something about the very obvious hickeys all over milo’s throat, but you cut him off before he can even manage a wolf whistle.

“milo, baby, did you bring the tennis rackets, or is sam going to?”

ash immediately flinches, life apparently flashing before his eyes, and ducks back into the house - presumably to beg his mate not to make him play against sam again. you snicker, leaning into his side, and god, does he love you.

(he did not bring the rackets, thank goodness. david would probably commit a murder if he thought they were going to try and fuck up his yard with tennis.)

(again.)

“you’re somethin’ else, you know that, sweetheart?”

“yeah,” you reply, “and you like it.”

well, he can’t say no to that. the pair of you wave david’s mate over to help you carry the desserts inside, and he’s suddenly overcome with a rush of affection as you heft the stack of cake tins in your arms.

just before you cross the doorway, he stops you.

“hold on a second, baby. i think you’ve, got a little somethin’ just there…”

“hmmm? where?”

he kisses the side of your cheek sweetly, “all gone now, sweetheart. just a little leftover cake mixture, is all.”

your face splits into a devilish grin as you realise what he’s doing, and in the early afternoon sun it makes you look like a goddamn angel.

“not my fault i’m such a messy eater.”

PART 4 - always read the label

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Helping Billy and Stu on their murder spree would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This might not be exactly what you were expecting but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Sorry it took me longer than expected!)

- Wrong. That was the best way to describe your relationship with Billy and Stu: wrong, fucked up, and dangerous …but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was exciting. 

- You were no saint. That was a fact you’d come to terms with a while ago. You were no saint but you certainly weren’t a killer; at least not when all of this started. No, back then, you were just a really, really bad girlfriend.

- Truth be told: you weren’t single when you’d gotten involved with the boys, though, to be fair, neither were they; not that that made things any better.

- You’d had a boyfriend, a boyfriend you’d once really cared about, but somewhere along the line, you’d begun to have problems and instead of resolving them, you’d both chosen to ignore them and resent each other instead. Which is probably why it was so easy for you to fall into another boys arms; especially when they were as charming as Billy was or as sweet as Stu was.

- You’d always had a bit of a crush on Billy. The two of you’d been acquaintances ever since freshman year and for a while you sort of thought that you and him might get together. But then he started dating Sidney and you got asked out by your boyfriend and you just sort of tried to put the idea out of your head.

- Unbeknownst to you, the idea never left Billy’s head and he found himself plotting all the ways that he could make you his; all while finding out that his partner in crime was seemingly just as interested in you as he was.

- Stu ended up playing a crucial role in your “arrangement”. The two of you found yourselves made into lab partners and thusly, you were invited over to his place after school and later given the perfect excuse to spend time with him; and/or Billy, without causing suspicion.

- The first few times you go over to the Macher place, nothing of value happens. You do exactly what you’re supposed to: work, study, joke around a little and get a bit more comfortable being in each other’s presences. It’s a few study sessions in that you get a curveball thrown at you.

- It’s late one evening, Stu’s parents are out and you’re both studying on his living room floor when all of a sudden the doorbell rings. Stu gets up to answer it and who else would it be but Billy.

- Stu pretends to act surprised and tells the boy that he forgot they were going to hang out and that he’s studying with you. Billy assures him that it’s alright before Stu tells him to wait a second and reappears in the room, saying that he thinks the two of you have studied enough and that Billy’s got some horror movies that the three of you can watch if you’d like to stay and chill. How could you possibly refuse?

- And so, your makeshift friendship with the boys begin; a friendship which very quickly leads into something more once Billy decides the time is right to make a move.

- You obviously don’t expect it the first time it happens but you find yourself wanting more the minute it’s over.

- Sure, sometimes the guilt will kick in when you see Tatum and Sidney or when your boyfriend is being particularly sweet, but it never seems to be enough to stop you from coming over whenever they ask or letting them in whenever they knock on your door.

- But the longer the three of you keep up your affair, the more things you start to notice.

- Billy isn’t stupid. Regardless of how he feels about you, he isn’t going to jeopardize his whole plan by making one wrong move and trusting someone he shouldn’t have. He’ll take his time analyzing you, picking apart your every move and reaction until he’s sure that you’re the one.

- You’ll start to pick up on little things about your boys that some might consider weird: all the horror movies and Billy’s knowledge in them, strange questions, indecipherable looks, things like that.

- As Billy comes closer to making up his mind, more of the mask will slip; though not enough to scare you off or make you think that anything’s really wrong. More odd inquiries, questionable sexual activities, and Billy testing your loyalty; oftentimes by asking you to cover for him or Stu to see how far you’ll go for them.

- You might be asking what I mean by “questionable sexual activities”, well, Billy has, on more than one occasion, demanded that you only watch whatever gory film he’s put on instead of looking at him as he pleasures you. He watches you closely, muttering lowly in your ear about the movie and talking dirty as you lock your eyes on the screen.

- When the boys first confess to you about the murders, you don’t believe them. You think it’s a bad joke but once you see just how serious they are, your smile drops and you say “you’re serious aren’t you?”.

- It definitely takes you a while to get used to the fact, but you find yourself opening up to the idea more and more as Billy explains their motive and butters you up with his charming words.

- Your involvement starts with little things: patching them up when they’re hurt, analyzing horror movies, giving them ideas or intel and telling them what won’t work.

- Stu likes to bump your shoulder or ruffle your hair and call you smart whenever you offer up good advice. Billy is much more subtle in his praise but his reactions are usually the ones that make you want to help them more and more.

- The blonde enthusiastically recounts stories of their slayings to you, jumping around the room and making a bunch of noises and hand movements while he does so.

- The first time you mention that you’d like to help them “...more”, both their faces break out into shit eating grins. They don’t immediately hand you a mask, knife, and mission but they do start to ask more of you.

- Helping them hide evidence, giving them alibis, waiting outside of their crime scenes for them and helping them lure people right into their traps all becomes second nature to you.

- Then comes your initiation. 

- There’d always been some jealousy involved in your relationship; mainly on their parts. You had a boyfriend and they had girlfriends which meant all three of you had to; at some point, act all lovey dovey with your partners in front of the others, if only to keep up a façade. 

- But, as obvious as it was that none of you particularly cared for your significant others, that didn’t stop Billy or Stu from absolutely hating your boyfriends guts. This hatred would eventually play a key role in solidifying your role in their lives.

- Your parents aren’t home and you’re in your bedroom with the boys, doing exactly what one would assume you’d be doing, except, unlike all the other times you’d done “this”, your bedroom door swung open and revealed a very unexpected visitor: your boyfriend. 

- Maybe it was the pent up jealousy or the fear of his plan potentially being ruined or maybe it was a little bit of both but when the boy immediately began to just book it towards your front door, Billy followed after him. 

- By the time you make it out into the hall, Stu has him held in place and Billy is turning to look at you, telling you to “come on” as they walk the boy into your kitchen. 

- Once you get there, Billy pulls a knife from the block and walks up to you, telling you that you said you wanted to be a part of things and that now's your chance.

“Go on.” He says, nodding his head back towards the boy who Stu’s restraining and watching you closely as you slowly take the knife from his hands. Stu’s grinning excitedly as you approach him, cheering you on while Billy remains silent behind you. 

- The blonde whoops and hollers as you cut into the boy, audibly expressing his pride in you, and when you turn to look back at Billy, he’s got a tiny little smile pulling at his lips, showing that you’ve just proven yourself and done exactly what he wanted. 

- The brunette locks eyes with you before he walks up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest and tilting your head down to look at the boy who’s currently bleeding out on your kitchen floor. “Would you look at that.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, his hand trailing up to grope at your chest as he stares down at the gory sight before you.

- There’s no going back after that. You’re now officially one of them and get your very own father death costume. 

- It’s perfect really. More hands, more confusion for the police, more bloody sex.  

- Billy gets turned on by the sight of blood and the adrenaline that he feels after a kill; and Stu has never been one to turn down sex, so don’t be surprised if you end up pressed against the floorboards of a victims house or thrown on one of their beds the minute the three of you get back to their house. 

- You and Billy tend to make the plans while Stu just goes along with whatever you say. 

- Helping them get Neil Prescott.

- Going along with Stu while Billy talks on the phone. 

- The two of them both baby and yell at you. They tend to do most of the dirty work because they think you can’t handle it but at the same time they; namely Billy, will get angry if you mess anything up in the slightest. The brunette will yell or insult you because he’s a control freak and wants everything to go exactly as he planned. 

- On the drive/walk home, you’ll stay quiet, wondering if maybe you’ve made a very severe mistake when deciding to be with the boys. But then Billy will grab your arm and pull you into a kiss, asking if you’re alright and apologizing so sweetly and for better or for worse, you’ll fall right back in again. 

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Vyn Richter - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

If this was a fairytale, it would be Beauty and the Beast. Except he was simply the Beast and you were his magic rose he got to watch bloom. But instead of watching you under glass, he preferred it to be removed, even if it shredded your innocence in the process, but oh, watching you grow anyways, both blooming beautifully while growing fierce thorns to warn anyone before they touch, just to spite the adversity you were faced with was his truest pleasure. Your fortitude; that was what he truly admired about you.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

You’d think it’s your eyes, being the windows to the soul and all. But you’d be wrong; it’s your hands. Specifically, your tender touch. It’s gentle, warm, and safe. Being able to hold your hand feels intimate for him, and he actually enjoys when you tap his arm to get his attention, then let your hand linger when he gives it. It’s like a reward and a comfort all in one.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He does enjoy a good cuddle, but hugging you from behind might be his favorite. Whether sitting together on the couch with you on his lap or spooning you in bed, he likes when he can nuzzle the side of your head or rest his chin on your shoulder.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He will have planned this to a T because he’s not much for spontaneity. And it would involve a walk together, flowers, and he will either have made you a dessert or the two of you will make something together. It’s something quiet and intimate for you to enjoy time together, talking about anything and nothing while the date is riddled with affectionate touches and some kisses.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Good grief, this man’s emotions are… complicated. He’s very logical, but he’s not ignorant to his emotions. It doesn’t seem like it, but he frequently tempers them, only to bring them up again in full when he records his diary so that he’s able to manage them.

But you have ruined him. His carefully kept emotional balance has been thrown to the wind. You make him feel intensely and strongly, to the point it almost trumps his logic, which makes him uncomfortable. His diaries have been getting longer as his inner turmoil increases, and that’s all your fault. It’s something you notice, too, watching his even temperament waver more and more frequently around you as the emotion inside him wars with his rationality. You will have to give this man time. Time to open up and be honest with himself, and you, about his emotions. Be prepared to validate his emotions in his moments of weakness. It’s the only way he’ll get better about honestly expressing them to you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He wouldn’t be opposed to staying childless. He also wouldn’t be opposed to having a child, and you could probably talk him into two if the first goes well. Little humans would be fascinating studies, after all. (“Dear, do not psycho-analyze the children.”)

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He does not care for trinkets. Nor does he care about giving you them. Gifts should be practical.

At least… that’s what he likes to think. His one exception to this is when he gives you something to wear. It’s his way of marking you and wearing it will spark a possessive streak in him.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He likes—no, needs to be either touching or holding your hand in quiet, private moments. And he wants to hold your hand when he’s jealous. Especially when he’s jealous. And you know when he is because he holds tight as though reminding you that you’re his while also sending passive-aggressive signals to the cause of his jealousy. When you’re just out walking, he will sometimes hold your hand, but he also likes when you loop your hands over his elbow and he can escort you like a proper gentleman. (It also causes you to pull yourself in close to him, so he actually quite enjoys when you do that.)

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Depends. Minor cuts or burns are treated with care and, occasionally, a kiss. Get into an accident, and he gets shockingly worried about you. However, if you end up hurt because of a reason to do with NXX, he’ll be sick with emotions. Guilt, fear, anger; all of them brew for a deadly concoction. He will not rest, even to the point of abusing his own body, until he finds the person who hurt you and sees to it they are paying dearly for their crime.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He doesn’t always joke around, but when he does… this man is a wicked tease. Don’t expect to get off the hook easily. You better learn how to tease back, or he’ll use words and puzzles to twist you exactly where he wants you, which normally is you as a blushing, stuttering mess.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Sweet kisses off-the-cuff are quite nice, and so are the passionate ones, but the ones he likes best are the slow, lingering ones that take place hidden away in your own world. They convey so much with no words. There’s no frantic holding or clinginess. Rather, it feels like a moment of security, coming together and staying. He likes the comfort they provide him and the way they actually settle his heart.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

He actually was super nervous to confess. He’ll have practiced and planned this confession before it happens. Which you never would have guessed because it was in such a smooth conversation during one of your outings that he admitted he held feelings of a romantic nature for you.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He wants it small, intimate, and preferably outdoors in a garden. He wants it nice but not overly fancy. He won’t fuss over the smaller details. Besides, he doesn’t realize it yet, but he will barely remember anything beyond how utterly stunning you look in your wedding dress, anyway.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He hates being a failure, but if he’s everput in a position where he fails you, he will never forgive himself.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man has literal decks of cards of only one kind of card. You want a 52 card deck with all ace of hearts? He has that. Ten of spades? He has that too. Four of clubs? Yup. You don’t know why he has them, and he won’t tell you, but you think it’s literally just because he’s highly amused the way you wrack your brain over it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He’s classic. Love, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart. But he’s half-German (At least, that is my best speculation considering he was called “Vilhelm” and is canonly mixed-race), so “Liebling” is also an endearment he calls you, and my guess is he saves that one strictly for the sweetest, most tender moments you share.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Calm setting, electronics put away, and preferably some form of physical contact with you. This could be working together in the garden, side by side, or going out to walk around town together, but those are not his favorite. Baking with you is one of his top ones, though. Expect him to tap some sort of batter or frosting on your nose. His other favorite is lounging together on the couch, your back leaning against his chest, and just talking. Communication is important to any relationship, and he finds it a joy to communicate with you.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

He’s the kind that shows his affection by giving you his time and attention. He’ll show it in the little touches exchanged back and forth and in the way he’s attentive to your well-being, particularly your mental well-being.

He’ll also show he loves you by playing mind games on you until you’re a blushy, stuttering mess. He’s usually forgiven with a kiss and “I love you”. You know you’re too soft on him, but whattcha gonna do?

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He is an onion you have to peel back layer by layer to get to open up to you. And like an onion, there’s likely going to be some tears shed as you do that. Time will determine how many secrets he’s willing to share with you, and it’s likely going to take years for him to fully open up to you. But keep at it. You will be rewarded with his innermost thoughts and feelings and the discovery of how insecure this seemingly unflappable man is.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

This man doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but falling hard and fast for you? That he did. One of his biggest hurdles he had to get over was logically evaluating his feelings and what he thought your feelings for him were as well as coming to terms with the way he’s been treated in past relationships (And not just romantic ones. He has an… interesting way of creating carefully crafted ties to people.) So it might take a little time for him to get comfortable enough to ask you out. And throughout the relationship, he’ll probably still be working with his past demons, so be prepared for that.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He’ll comfort you the best way he can if you’re a sad upset. A mad upset, and he’ll probably give you a little space to work yourself out while offering his guidance. And upset at him? This is where a good chunk of your arguments happen, to be honest. So then you both have to calm down before coming together again and talking it out. But you always do and are stronger for it.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’ll never admit it, but he loveswhen he can leave you impressed. It thrills him if he can show off a trick or his general intelligence and have you praise him for it. Occasionally, he’ll search for ways to impress you just because he wants that attention. But never will he admit it.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Well…he’s all okay with fighting as long as it’s not physical fighting. If you’re going to verbally spar with someone, he’s more than happy to let you go, and he takes pride in the fact you usually wipe the floor with your opponent. But the moment it’s going to turn into a physical altercation, he’s your shield. Part of him thinks that in times he is unfortunately not around, it might be good to have some self-defense under your belt, but at the same time, he’d rather you just flee instead of fight. Because he knows you well enough that if you had the ability, you’d probably knock someone’s lights out if they came at you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He’s a psychologist; he can already read you well. But on top of that, you are his favorite study, and he will catalogue everything he learns about you away to pull out for future reference. So while he already reads you well early on into your relationship, give it a few years and you have basically no secrets from this man.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

He will never forget the “surprise over romance” opinion on proposals you shared with him. So, determined to give you the best, he sets up an elaborate puzzle for you, getting all the important people in your life to get in on it. Together, the two of you will trapeze the town hunting down little clues—in places, that you only realize later, hold significance to both of you—before he’ll “conveniently” take his leave so you can finish out the last leg, which ultimately ends up leading you to his office, the place you first met. And there he is, sitting behind a house of cards sits made solely from the Ace of Hearts with a ring in the middle of the top tier which was made from two different cards: the king and queen. Only once you realize that and he revels in your joy and tears will he properly get on one knee and ask you to marry him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

When everything is “right” in his world. His patients are doing well, he’s got no massive cases on his plate, nothing requires his immediate attention, and you are close by, doing well in your own right.

[stetervault]

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

--

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.