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luvonmes-blog · 2 years

Text

Pierre

in which she’s with him but she wants him.

this is a draft from years ago. probably gonna be posting drafts a lot cause i just recently lost someone and can’t really bring myself to write. it’s based off the song Pierre by Ryn Weaver.

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You trailed your finger across your lover's chest as slowly as you could without waking him up. His chest rose and fell with his breaths as you traced the MMXII on his collarbone, his breathing stuttered as his eyes fluttered open. His eyes were still squinted when he turned to look at you.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” Calum usually always wakes up before you. He’d leave a sticky note to your headboard saying how much he loved you and a little smiley face but today was different. It was one of the rare days where you both had off - you weren’t shooting for your movie and he didn’t have to go into the studio with the boys.

“I thought because we had this day to ourselves we could spend it in.” A small smile lit up your face. You straddled his waist and settled on his thighs as your hands trailed down his chest. “I can make us breakfast.” Calum sighed out an ‘mhmm’ in agreement. “Then we can watch a movie.” A small nod this time. You leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Or we can start this day off right with some lazy morning sex?” You were quickly thrown onto your back as Calum trailed kisses down your neck, giggles and squeals leaving your mouth.

You shot awake from the familiar dream looking over to the other side of the bed where your boyfriend lay. His chocolate curls, pale skin, and pouty lips. You gave a quick kiss to the freckle next to his mouth and made your way to the bathroom, after wrapping the sheet around your naked body. You washed up quickly, hopping into the shower and applying light makeup. You left a sticky note on the headboard - just like he used to do... no. You shook your head as if to get the thought to go away. It’s been a year since you’ve broken up, you’re happy with the way it ended but you wish it hadn’t ended at all.

“Y/N it’s not working anymore.” Calum sighed.

“I know.” The tears were streaming down your face, you were trying not to break in front of him. You wanted to seem strong for him, afterall, he was being strong for you.

“We can’t give each other what we need.”

“I know.”

“We barely see each other. Y/N we need people who can give us emotional stability and we’re obviously not doing that for each other.”

“Don’t you think I know that Calum!” You raised your voice. “I know Calum, I know ok?”

“I love you.”

“I know.” A kiss to your forehead, timid footsteps and then the close of your door, only then did you break down. The tears came faster, the sobs drowned out the Los Angeles traffic. It hurt. You thought you had forever but maybe you were wrong. It was only supposed to be a fling, he knew you had someone waiting for you back home, he knew you were taking a break from the relationship and trying to find yourself. But you two fell hard. He was right, you two barely saw each other and when you did all you two did was have sex. The days you two went out you would be bombarded with paparazzi. It wasn't new but when you two got together it was like they multiplied in numbers. You were a new actress rising to fame and dating a very famous bassist.

When you walked onto set for the new movie you were shooting you ran into your manager. “Just the person I was looking for.” Joan said as she gently grabbed your arm. She was a woman in her mid 40’s who bragged about her children and grandchildren all day. While she could be annoying you loved her, she was the motherly figure you never had. “So there’s an event happening very soon and they have requested for you to be there.”

“They?” You questioned.

“The organizers. They want you to come take some pictures to boost it up. I think it’s a charity event but I can’t be too sure. Anyways, we’ve already called your designer and he’s on his way. He said he has some new dresses he wants you to try on but they do have to be fitted.” She pointed at you with the pen in her hands before checking something off her list. “Okay, that's it they want for the scene.” She speedily walked away before turning over her shoulder and yelling; “Bring Dylan!” You nodded at her with a thumbs up before making your way over to the director and asking what she wanted from you.

“We’re shooting the rain scene so I need you in hair in makeup.” You walked to the makeup artist and hairstylist as they sat you in the chair your mind trailed off.

Paris, he had taken you to Paris. It was a surprise, he just appeared at your house and told you to pack a bag and next thing you knew you were on a plane to Paris. The only downside; it was raining but somehow Calum still made it the time of your life. You were running in a field Calum not far behind you. When he caught up to you one arm slipped onto your lower back while the other slipped under your legs. He hoisted you up into the and you let out a scream of joy, your own arms wrapping around his neck. You threw your head back in laughter Calum leaving kisses on your chin.

“I love you.” It was muffled as he whispered it into your neck but you heard it and froze. The L word. Calum felt you go stiff and he looked into your eyes. He couldn’t decipher the emotions swimming through the Y/E/C orbs. He gently placed you back on your legs as you continued to stare at him. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, Calum knew you had trouble opening up, the lack of an emotional outlet as a child might have done that for you. “I- it just came out. I understand if you don’t feel the sa- '' Calum was cut short as your lips met with his, the rain dripping from his curls onto your face, your hair getting soaked onto your face. Your lips moved in perfect harmony against each other. Your finger trailed up his chest and threaded through his hair, his large hands splaying against your lower back and hip. Your lips broke apart with a soft ‘smack’ as you panted against each other's lips.

“I love you too.” The smile that broke across his face could brighten up the whole world. His lips met yours again and he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. That night when you got to the hotel room it wasn’t like your usual nights spent together. Instead of fierce lips and rushed hands trying to get each other naked it was soft lips and gentle hands. That night there was no sex only gentle kisses and cuddles as you fell asleep in eachother’s arms.

“All done.” Dan the stylist on set said after Rita the makeup artist finished touching up your makeup.

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The day went on well, you’d gotten an extra scene done by the time you got home Dylan was sitting at the dining table scrolling through twitter. “Hey baby.” He said as you approached him and gave him a peck to his lips.

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked as you got a glass of fruit punch from the fridge.

“Good, got to spend some time with my mom and dad saw my sister.”

“That’s good. Joan told me earlier today that there’s this charity event she wants me to go to. She didn’t give me a date but with her scattered brain I wouldn’t blame her for forgetting in the moment. Anyway, I’m sure she’ll text me later but she did say she wanted me to bring you along with me. Just wanted to check and make sure it was good for you.” You brought the cup to your lips and took a sip of the red juice.

“Yeah just let me know I’m sure I can be there.” He gave a small smile before standing from the table and walking to you. “I have to go but I just wanted to see you when you got off, ran out on me this morning.” You rolled your eyes jokingly.

“I didn’t run out on you, I had to get to work.” You grabbed his collar and pulled his lips to yours, kissing him gently. “Now go home, you look exhausted.” He chuckled and kissed you again before heading out the door. You looked at the clock reading 10 p.m you decided it was a good enough time to go to sleep. Grabbing your phone from your bag you checked the notification realizing that Joan texted you.

Joan 9:42 p.m

Meet me at the fashion studio tomorrow at one. Gotta get fitted for the event ;)

You seriously regret telling her how to use emoticons. Getting undressed down to your underwear you pulled out a random shirt pulling over your head and walked to the bathroom ready to do your normal night routine before catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The shirt was his.

You walked out of your bedroom knuckling at your eyes and yawning only to stop at the smell of waffles and bacon. Turning to your kitchen you saw Calum standing over a pot with sizzling bacon in it next to him the waffle iron. “What are you doing here?” He turned around at the sound of your voice, taking in the sight of you.

“You gave me a key, remember?” Letting out a small ‘oh’ you walked over to him. “Is this my shirt?” He said pinching to baby blue fabric that stopped right below your hips.

“No. It’s mine.” You gave a cheeky smirk and kissed his cheek. “Food smells amazing, baby.”

“Go sit down.”

“Huh?”

“Go sit down, I'll make your plate for you.”

“Ok.” You turned from him on your way to the dining table when you felt a little tap on your buttcheek. You let out a cackle at him and he wolf whistled.

You felt the tears on your lash line trying to fall over you quickly swept them away and sniffled before pulling out your cleanser. You laid in bed that night thinking of him the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. Your last thought of him before you fell asleep was his back as he walked out your front door.

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It was now 1:30 the next day and you sat and Chris tightened the slip dress around your waist. The lavender fabric was loose around your chest, got tighter on your mid section and flowed around your mid thighs, a small slit on the left side. Dylan would be wearing a black suit with a matching lavender tie. You didn’t know who would be at this event but you knew some big names were coming. “So they want you there by 5:00 p.m. It's going until midnight, which is enough time for you to get some good pictures of you chatting around with people.” Joan explained.

“Ok do I need to stay the entire night?” You asked.

“Well it’d be best if you did it’s a charity event, Y/N, you don’t want to look bad.”

“Ok, got it, stay all night.” Chris pinched you with the needle he was using to bring in the fabric by accident and you flinched. “Dude you keep doing that I’m going to pass out from blood loss.” You joked. Chris scoffed at you and kept on with his work. By the time the dress was done you felt like you couldn’t breathe. It was so tight but it brought out your figure. “So it’s this Thursday at five and I will stay all night. Anything else I need to know?”

“Nope.” Joan replied, popping the ‘p’.

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4:30 and you were 15 minutes away from the building the charity event was taking place in. Dylan sat beside you, his hand on your thigh as you were looking out the window. The extravagant houses were more appealing than your apartment, even though you could afford them you’d rather live somewhere more homey. Pulling up outside paparazzi were already flashing pictures at everyone. Dylan gripped your hand comfortingly, leading you into the building.

“Dylan, Y/N how’s the relationship?” One paparazzo asked.

“Have things gotten better since the break?” Another questioned. Dylan continued to pull you into the opposite direction and that's when you saw him. He was standing between Ashton and Luke signing autographs and taking pictures. He smiled and waved to the camera as he walked in your direction. You kept calm but on the inside you were panicking. When your eyes locked you could see his eyes slightly widen, his eyes dropping down to your heel clad feet then slowly trailing back up to your face. You tried to pretend like nothing was happening for Dylan. Of course he knew about your fling with Calum, it was all over twitter he would have to live under a rock to not know.

But you didn’t want him to have to face the reality that you fell in love with another man. You loved Dylan you truly did but you’re not quite sure you were still in love with him. After you and Calum had broken it off you came back to Dylan, claiming you were finally ready to get back to where you were but maybe you just didn’t want to be alone. But he took you in with open arms and that night you stayed up catching up on things you missed out on in the 8 months you were apart. The group of tall aussies continued in your direction. When they approached you you could see they were trying to make it seem as normal as possible. All of them gave you a quick hug and shook Dylan's hand. Calum was the last to come up as he found a way to maneuver to the back of the line when they were on their way over.

“Uh- hi- hey.” He coughed out.

“Hey.” You gave a nervous chuckle. Gazing up at him you felt your eyes soften. His brown curls framing his face, his eyes held an emotion that you couldn’t quite read but he held your gaze. You two slowly leaned for a hug and it wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be in fact you melted into his warm embrace. At some point you had to unwind your hands from his neck so it wouldn’t be awkward. You cleared your throat as you moved back to stand next to Dylan. Calum put his hand to shake your current lover's hand. It was one firm shake then they disconnected and Calum moved back to his group.

Throughout the entire night you could feel Calum's eyes on you. You weren’t sitting that far from each other, each time you would go to look at him his eyes would dart forward. The event went well, you met a few celebrities you idolised and they were all so sweet. As you and Dylan hopped back into your car you pulled out your phone and went straight to twitter. You wanted to see what people thought of tonight but when you opened the app the first thing you saw was not what you were expecting

luke_is_a_penguin_1996

1 image attached

Look at the way they look at eachother. She may be with Dylan but it’s Calum she belongs with. Calum was the love of her life, Dylan is the love for the rest of her life.

It was a picture of you and Calum. Your eyes locked on each other and you could see the emotion on both of your faces. You tried to turn away from Dylan so he wouldn’t see. You didn’t want to hurt him. But he could see the reflection off the glass of the window. It hurt but he knew he and Y/N weren’t working out anymore. He was being selfish by keeping you in the relationship so he knew what he had to do. He has to let you go. No matter how much it hurts him he knows he’s hurting you more by keeping you with him. He looked to you with a teary eyed gaze before turning back to the road.

When he walked you to the front door you walked in and immediately took off your shoes but Dylan stood in the door eyeing you. “You’re not gonna come in?” You asked after realizing he wasn’t standing with you.

“We need to talk.” He sighed.

“Oh. Ok..?” He continued to eye you from the door.

“It’s not working anymore.”

“Y/N it’s not working anymore.”

“What?” You were stunned, the word barely escaped your lips.

“You’re not happy.”

“Wh- what are you talking about Dylan of course I’m happy.” You didn’t know if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

“No you’re not and it’s ok.” He stepped forward. “I know what will make you happy and that's not me.”

“Dylan, stop it. Of course I’m happy. You make me happy so can we just go eat and go to sleep, please?” You were begging. You didn’t want to do this.

“You can’t keep lying to yourself, baby. We can’t keep doing this, we’re only hurting each other. I saw how you looked at him.”

“No-”

“I saw it Y/N, it’s how you used to look at me and, God, do I wish I was him but I’m not. You know I’m not so I’m willing to put my own happiness on the line so you can have yours. Go to him, go live out that fairytale dream you used to tell me about when you couldn’t sleep at night. Go be happy.” Tears were trekking down both of your faces as Dylan brought his hands up to hold your face. He gently swept them away with his thumbs and leant forward to place a kiss on your forehead. He backed away slowly and then he was out of the door. Your eyes darted around your apartment and then you realized it; you were completely alone. You crumpled to a heap on the floor and let the sobs wrack your body, you muffled the loud cries you wanted to let out into your hand.

It felt like an eternity but in reality it was 15 minutes you sat crying and shaking on your floor. Your eyes looked around your apartment and you crawled your way over to the boots you kept by your door. You pulled them on and grabbed your keys off of the dish your niece made you that you kept on the small coffee table by the door. You ran to your car as it started pouring outside. Rain pelting your skin. You started the car and drove to the only place your body would let you go. It wasn’t a long drive, only 20 minutes. How you two never ran into each other was baffling. When you pulled up to the driveway the clock in your car read 1:22 a.m. Almost two in the morning and you were praying to any god that he was awake. That he would answer the door.

When you reached the door your dress was stuck to your body, your hair stuck up in all directions. Your fist hit the door repeatedly and you heard him shuffling and yelling out ‘I’m coming’ before he opened the door. He froze, he took in your appearance as you did his. He changed out of the outfit he was wearing earlier. Now clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Hey what’s-”

“I love you.” You blurted out.

“Huh?” He was dumbfounded.

“I love you, it’s been you since the moment we met and it will always be you. You can tell me to go and I will but I had to tell you. I love you.” You stared at each other for a moment before you felt him envelope you in a hug. Your arms hastily wrapped around him before you melted against him.

“I love you too.” He pulled back to look at you. “I love you so much.” You don’t know who leaned in first - maybe it was you - but your lips met softly. He pulled you into his house and you spent the night under the covers with hushed whispers, sweet nothings and promises that poured from both of your mouths.

You would not want it to end any other way.

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hoped you liked it ig.

#calum hood #calum x reader #calum hood x reader #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader angst #calum hood x reader fluff #calum hood angst #calum hood fluff

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momolady · 3 years

Text

The Soldier: Part Two

Darkness permeates the halls. As the soldier heals and begins to explore, old memories resurface, some much darker than others.

There had once been a maid in the employ of the Marfont family, near the same age as Corinne, tall and rather boyish in appearance. She was a hard worker, and during the last days of Mrs. Marfont’s illness she had been the only one allowed at her side.

The young maid and Corinne were also close. Because no one was allowed around the property while Mrs. Marfont was sick, they became friends. Corinne admired the maid’s strength and resolve, while the maid fell for Corinne’s freckles and doll-like charm. The two gave into youthful indiscretions and often hid away, kissing and touching one another in secret. Corinne would pout and plead with the maid for more, and even when she became engaged to Nathaniel, she continued to kiss the maid in secret.

“Nathaniel will never know you as I know you,” the maid whispered raspily into Corinne’s thigh one evening. Her long, elegant fingers worked to bring Corinne to a heavenly sin. “He’ll never love you like I love you.” Corinne stopped up her cries with a pillow as the maid pulled her down.

The maid found comfort in her love of Corinne. She took more than just pleasure in making her lady come. Her mind was wracked with guilt, filled with images of Mrs. Marfont’s final hours. Keeping Corinne happy and sated helped to keep the demons away.

Just days before Nathaniel was to leave, he cornered the maid. He approached her with not just the knowledge of her affair with Corinne, but also the cause of Mrs. Marfont’s death. He threatened her to leave, or else he’d reveal her secrets to the whole house and the world beyond it. But it would not be her who would be shamed by the revelations - all the shame would fall on Corinne. So the maid bid a tearful goodbye outside the house, not even allowed to say her goodbyes to Corinne.

The morning the maid left was one Corinne would never forget, and soon, her father would be leaving as well. She mourned in a way she could not show, sitting by the window and hoping to see the maid return to her. A year went by, and the only one to return was her father, and with him the soldier named Lockwood.

Lockwood was eventually able to walk on his own, though he kept his bandages in place. He was quite tall and had become thin due to the rigors of military duty. But he was able to sit in the parlor and come to the dinner table, and no longer had to be waited on hand and foot, which had seemed to bother him. He could sit and enjoy life like everyone else in the house.

“I’ve only ever met one other person as tall as you in my life, but I think she was taller,” Corinne remarked one day as she took Lockwood for a stroll through the gardens. The air held a chill, and the ground was damp from all the rain. But at least the sun was shining, and the garden looked bright.

“A woman?” Lockwood chuckled.

“Yes, and an amazing one at that.” Corinne’s smile suddenly faded and she looked away until she could bring it back.

“Although, Corinne, you must consider everyone you meet very tall,” he teased.

Corinne scoffed and gently struck the back of his hand. “How cruel of you, Mr. Lockwood!”

He looked up to see they were standing at the front of the house. There was a window open with the curtains billowing out. Lockwood faltered a step, and Corinne caught him. “Are you all right?” she exclaimed with alarm.

Lockwood’s vision was blurry, and from the corner of his eye he thought he saw someone lying on the ground. “I’m sorry. I think I need to lie down. I feel dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Yes, of course.” Corinne helped support him as she led him back to the house. Once he was tucked into bed, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll go and fetch my father for you.”

“No, wait. Stay with me.” Lockwood reached out and took Corinne’s hands again. “Lovely thing you are. Just sit with me and I’ll catch my breath.”

“I’m happy to,” Corinne said brightly. “I pushed you too far on the walk today.”

“No, no, it isn’t you.” Lockwood smiled. “Just something from my past.”

Corinne nodded, stroking his hand gently. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Lockwood took a deep breath. “I saw someone die,” he murmured. “I won’t go through the gory details, my lady. But it’s haunted me since. I see her face sometimes, and I hear her whispering.”

Corinne looked visibly unsettled by the comments. “Oh.”

“I don’t mean to frighten you,” Lockwood reassured her. “It is not a haunting.”

At the foot of Lockwood’s bed, just over the mantel, was a painting of her mother. She gazed at it longingly, then turned her affections back upon Lockwood. “I still think my mother comes here from time to time,” she confessed. “I can smell her perfume in the hallways, or feel a hand on my shoulder when no one is there.”

Lockwood’s stomach churned, and he felt a pain settle in the depths of his stomach. “Do you miss her?”

“Horribly.” Corinne lowered her head, suddenly distraught.

“What’s wrong?” Lockwood touched her cheek, bringing her face back up where he could see it.

“I received a letter a few days ago that has been bothering me.” Corinne placed herself beside Lockwood and laid herself on the bed. Her hair spilled across the pillows, and Lockwood breathed in her sweet scent. “Nathaniel is returning home.”

Lockwood gave her a reassuring smile. “He’s your fiancé, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”

Corinne remained silent. “No.”

“Why not?” Lockwood rolled to his side.

“He’s not the one I wanted to come home,” Corinne protested. “Nathaniel is a fine man, but there are things about him that make me feel disgusted with myself.”

Lockwood touched Corinne’s cheek and brushed his fingers through her hair. “You like me, though. What is the difference between us?”

“Many.” Corinne leaned in, kissing Lockwood again. “I’ve only ever kissed one other who made me feel like you do.” She captured Lockwood’s tongue, sucking it and feeling the place where the end split in two. “What happened to your tongue?” She held Lockwood’s face between her palms, licking his tongue and kissing it.

“You’re kissing it,” Lockwood laughed.

“I’m serious,” Corinne giggled. “How did it become split like that? Were you born this way? Or was it an accident?”

“Curious creature,” Lockwood breathed. He lapped Corinne’s neck, then moaned into her ear. “It was made that way, purposefully.”

“For what purpose?” Corinne started to stroke down Lockwood’s chest, but he grabbed her hands quickly.

Lockwood chuckled. “It’s late, and I don’t wish to give you nightmares.”

“I’m not a child,” Corinne pouted.

“I can see that. You may be small, but you have a womanly shape.” Lockwood breathed into her ear, moaning again. He tickled his fingers up under Corinne’s night gown. “I bet you have womanly lips as well. I bet they’re wet.”

“Mr. Lockwood, we mustn’t,” she mewled.

Lockwood chuckled. “So should I stop?”

“No,” she whimpered. “I’m simply stating that we shouldn’t.”

Lockwood bit her ear as his fingers found her wet and pliant. “I’ll only touch.”

Corinne bit her lip, thrusting her hips forward so Lockwood would touch her more. “Can I touch you?”

Lockwood kissed her to keep her quiet, rubbing her and touching her, pushing up her nightgown to have access to her entire naked body. Lockwood feasted upon Corinne’s pleasure, lapping up her honey from his elegant fingers. “Are you crying?” Lockwood whispered to her.

Corinne sniveled and hiccuped. “No.”

Lockwood kissed her cheek, feeling the warm, wet tears there. “You’re so cute, my lady. Do you feel much better?”

“It’s been so long,” Corinne breathed.

“You should go back to your room,” Lockwood commanded softly.

“Let me touch you,” Corinne pleaded. “Please, I am desperate to.”

Lockwood whimpered and shook his head. “You need to go.”

“I am not afraid of scars!” Corinne argued. “You will not disgust me like Nathaniel. You remind me nothing of him.”

Lockwood touched her cheek. “I want you to. The gods know it. The devils know it. But I beg you, my darling, go back to your room.”

“Why?” Corinne’s voice trembled.

“Because…” Lockwoods voice caught in his throat. “I am not who you believe me to be. I am… more and less at the same time.”

“I want to know,” Corinne kissed him affectionately. “I beg of you.”

Lockwood was helpless to her lips, her eyes. If she knew now, perhaps it could save them both pain when Nathaniel returned home. He lay back and took a breath. “Go ahead. I can no longer fight you.”

“I’ll take such good care of you, Mr. Lockwood. I’ll love you, I’ll adore you! No matter what I find.” Corinne opened his shirt, seeing the bandages there. Her hand smoothed over them, at first feeling nothing. She moved down, undoing the laces of his trousers. She stopped when she opened them, finding nothing inside. Her fingers slipped between Lockwood’s thighs, finding something familiar but unexpected. “Mr. Lockwood,” she breathed.

“Do not be angry at me.” Lockwood trembled.

Corinne took hold of the bandages, unwrapping them until she could see what was underneath. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods!”

“Thank them?” Lockwood erupted.

Corinne dipped down, kissing his breasts. Lockwood lost his breath and grabbed hold of Corinne, pulling her up. She was smiling in relief, tears in her eyes. “I so much prefer this form over the other. I love your bosom, I love what lies between your thighs. I do not like cock.”

“Corinne,” he breathed. “I’m stunned.”

Corinne kissed him. “I know you say you are a man, which is how I see you. I will love you as a man. I will touch you like a man. I am sorry if I prefer this body.”

“It’s alright.” Lockwood was filled with relief. It almost took the pain away that still lingered in his body. “I’m glad you know me now.”

A few days later, Nathaniel returned to the Marfont home and was received warmly by the household. He looked exhausted from his journey, and after a bath he rested until the next morning. Corinne kept herself busy, cleaning, cooking, whatever was needed to greet Nathaniel upon awakening. Lockwood kept to his room, listening through a crack in the door. One afternoon, Lockwood heard Nathaniel and Corinne talking in the parlor.

“You look different,” Corinne told him. “What happened to you out there?”

“War changes people,” Nathaniel replied. “It can twist a man to his breaking point. I saw the best and worst of humanity in battle, Corinne.”

“Are you well?” She sounded confused by her own question.

“There’s someone else here, isn’t there?” Nathaniel blew off her question. “Your father mentioned there was another soldier staying here.”

“Mr. Lockwood, yes,” Corinne replied. “He was horribly injured, and Father has been taking care of him.”

“You need to be careful of who you let inside, Corinne,” Nathaniel said gently.

Corinne was quiet, fidgeting with her own worries. “But father said he was a hero.”

“Even heroes have things to hide.”

Lockwood woke that evening, feeling a presence in his room. He turned his head to the side, where he heard breathing from the foot of the bed. He sat up slowly and took a deep breath. “Stay where you are,” Nathaniel murmured.

“What are you doing in my room? You frightened me,” Lockwood said.

Nathaniel let out a slow breath. “Don’t toy with me. I know what you are. I know what you can do. I’ve seen it for myself.”

Lockwood held a lot of rage inside, and a lot that was directed at Nathaniel. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Keep playing the idiot. See where it gets you.” Nathaniel hissed. “You’re a danger to the people here. To people everywhere. Once the war is over, you shouldn’t even exist.”

Lockwood slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. ��What do you think I am, Mr. St. Claire?”

“A wrath,” he says. “Berserker. Whatever they’re called out there on the battlefield. You’re a soldier chained to a demon.”

“How do you know that for certain?” Lockwood murmured.

Nathaniel stood from his chair and walked to the side of the bed. “You need to leave here. Leave the doctor. Leave the girl, or I will choke you with these silver chains.” He raised his hand, placing a silver chain against Lockwood’s neck. It burned his skin and sent chills down through his body, but all it did was pull his old rage to the surface.

“Funny,” Lockwood seethed between clenched teeth. “This isn’t the first time you’ve threatened me in this house. Once before, you threatened me with the life of your fiance.” He grabbed Nathaniel’s arm, and his teeth began to grow and sharpen. “You knew the secret of Mrs. Marfont’s death.”

“No,” Nathaniel whispered. “Let me go!”

“You used my love for Corinne to hurt me, to cut me deep and scare me away.” Lockwood pulled him close so he could see the glow of his eyes through the bandages. “Get the fuck away from me. I will stay here or you will die. Your choice, Mr. St. Claire.” He shoved Nathaniel back, making him sprawl on the floor as Lockwood rose to his feet.

“How?” Nathaniel stammered as he tried to stand. “Ms. Liam was the one I scared away. Not you!”

“Was it?” Lockwood chuckled. “You know what I am? I’m surprised.” He knelt down and peered into Nathaniel’s face. “Your silver doesn’t threaten me.” He took the chain from Nathaniel’s hand and chucked it out the window. “You won’t threaten me ever again. Least of all will you use sweet Madalence to hurt me. Now get out, and I will allow you to live.”

Nathaniel hurriedly stood and backed out, returning to his room. Lockwood settled on the edge of the bed to soothe himself. He began to cry, weeping through the bandages. His rage frightened him. All he wanted was Corinne.

Lockwood woke in the morning, seeing the rain had subsided and sunshine was pouring through the windows. He rose, moving the blankets away and walking to the window. As he looked outside, he saw something strange on the cobblestones in the garden. Looking closer, Lockwood choked back a cry and held his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. He stumbled out into the hallway, coming across Dr. Marfont as he came down the stairs. “Stay quiet,” Lockwood begged. “Don’t say a word! Stay quiet!”

He took Dr. Marfont outside, showing him the scene in the garden. “Is that…” Dr. Marfont hurried out to the body lying in the garden. Lockwood swayed back and forth, bracing himself in the doorway. His vision blurred, and the body looked just like Mrs. Marfont had.

Dr. Marfont knelt down, checking the pulse. “It’s too late,” he said. “He must have jumped last night.” He looked up to the windows, seeing one was open and the curtains hanging out. “Come, help me,” he said, “before everyone wakes up.”

Lockwood stumbled forward, still seeing the body of Mrs. Marfont on the ground. HE trembled, reaching down to pick her up.

“It’s quiet,” Mrs. Marfont said. “I can finally get some sleep.”

Lockwood staggered away from the body, shaking.

“Come back here, dammit!” Dr. Marfont snapped. “Help me get rid of it before anyone sees!”

“Not again!” Lockwood wept.

“He’s dead. There’s nothing to be done!” Dr. Marfont snapped.

Lockwood looked down at the body of Mrs. Marfont. He saw it lying there twisted, head bent unnaturally. It wasn’t Mrs. Marfont. It was Nathaniel. “Oh my God,” he whispered.

“Hurry! Grab him!”

Lockwood and Dr. Marfont moved Nathaniel’s body from the garden, taking it behind the house where no one could see. Dr. Marfont sighed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t imagine what would happen if Corinne saw such a thing again.”

“She still doesn’t remember?” Lockwood knew the answer already.

Dr. Marfont shook his head. “The shock of seeing it blocked it from her mind.” He sighed heavily. “How could this have happened twice now?”

Lockwood wrung his hands together. “I’m sorry, doctor. This is my fault.”

“It was nothing you did. Now come along, let's go inside. We’ll deal with this later.” He walked away from the body, but Lockwood remained frozen there. Mrs. Marfont had suffered for a long time. Her illness changed her. During his days as the maid in that house, Lockwood had done nothing but tend to Mrs. Marfont and earn her confidence. Lockwood had been working out in the garden one afternoon when she heard a shout from above. Before she could even look up, Mrs. Marfont had landed on the ground before her. Right as Mrs. Marfont died, Corinne had come outside. After that, she did not sleep, eat, or move from her room for a week. Once she emerged, Corinne had no memory of the event. To her, her mother had passed away years ago.

Lockwood eventually went inside, shaken by Nathaniel’s death. He washed his hands and went to sit in the parlor alone. Corinne found him there and came up to his chair. “You didn’t join us for breakfast. Are you well?” Corinne touched his cheek, and Lockwood leaned into her palm. Her skin felt so soft, so warm, and her wrist was dotted with freckles.

“I’m not hungry,” Lockwood answered.

“Nathaniel didn’t come down, either.” Corinne sat down beside Lockwood. “Must have been the greens from last night. My stomach was a touch turned too.” She looked up at Lockwood and smiled.

Lockwood shakily turned to her. “Corinne…”

“Yes?”

He went silent, unable to tell her she would be better off without him. Her smile, her expectant gaze, all made him so weak. He smiled at her, reaching out and touching her cheek. “You look exceptionally lovely today,” he whispered.

Corinne blushed. “Thank you. I barely slept, so…” She giggled shyly.

Lockwood felt tears in his eyes as he gazed upon her. She looked so happy, so sweet. “It’s not safe to be with me, Corinne.”

Her joyful expression shifted suddenly. Her smile remained but her eyes were almost empty. “What do you mean?” She started to cry.

“I should show you.” He took her back to his room and had her sit on the bed. Lockwood started to remove the bandages from around his head, and slowly he revealed himself. His face was no longer human above the mouth. Instead it was twisted, and held a row of eyes that were all black. His hair was gone, replaced by black spikes that grew into the horns along the side of his head. Corinne’s eyes watered and tears fell down her face.

“The knight who chained himself to a demon.” Her hands fluttered around Lockwood’s face. “What did they do to you?”

“I agreed to make myself stronger,” Lockwood rasped. “I never thought I would live through it.”

Corinne touched his face, smoothing her fingers down. She traced the lines of Lockwood’s jaw and made a small sound of alarm. “I thought twice that I knew you,” she breathed shakily. “When I first saw your neck, and when you touched me.” She looked into Lockwood’s eyes. “Ms. Liam, is that you?”

Lockwood shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“You came back,” Corinne wrapped her arms around Lockwood. “You never said goodbye!”

Lockwood remained silent, hanging limp in Corinne’s arms. He kept his eyes closed, and buried his face into her hair. “Why did you leave me?” Corinne wept.

“I had my reasons,” Lockwood choked. “I didn’t ever want to hurt you. But my staying would have done more damage to you than my leaving.”

“I waited,” Corinne said breathlessly.

“I know.”

Corinne stole another kiss then stiffened her jaw and became resolute. “I see you, and I want you.”

Lockwood clutched her hand tight. “That is dangerous.”

Her smile brightened again, and she placed a kiss upon his lips. “So are many things in this world.”

#monsterxhuman #monster lover #monster romance #dark romance #gothic romance #trans character #living armor my writing #monster fudger

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emerald-chaos · 3 years

Text

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

#eeeeeeee #i love soft drunk boston frat chris so much it pains me #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans headcanons #chris evans imagines #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans/reader #chris evans/you #fluff #imagines #headcanons

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bluebellss1 · 3 years

Text

[SPOILER WARNING FOR THE INVISIBLE LIFE OF ADDIE LARUE]

I really enjoyed the book and thought it was written very well, and I adored Luc and his dynamic with Addie. But I can’t help but be a little bit confused about why the author decided to end the book like that, especially since it’s supposed to be a stand-alone.

You’d think a satisfying end to Addie’s personal arc would be her at peace at being remembered, then taking Luc’s hand and disappearing with him into the night (or something along those lines). But instead, Addie informs us of her new vendetta against him and how she’s going to spend the rest of eternity trying to make him hate her so her soul goes free and the book ends RIGHT THERE. We’re not getting a sequel so why would you end the book with a curveball like that? That’s an entirely new plot-thread that was literally introduced on the last 2 pages.

She says that she’s going to prove that Luc is “incapable of love”, and then 2 sentences later she says that she’s going to “break his heart.” WHICH ONE IS IT, ADDIE? Those statements are contradictory as hell if she thinks he has no heart to break. I think the author made the ending for them unanswered and up-to-interpretation so that readers could interpret it however they wanted but idk, I was kind of rooting for them to find a sort of peace in each other as a couple which doesn’t seem to happen at the end of the book.

The book beats us over the head with the metaphor that Addie’s freckles are a ‘constellation of stars’ across her face. I’ve seen a lot of people complain that the recurring metaphor was meaningless and superficial, but while reading the book I realised that Luc is literal DARKNESS and the NIGHT. His true form is just a yawning, terrifying empty void of black. And Addie is constantly compared to stars and one artist painted a portrait of stars to represent her. This motif is supposed to mean that Addie is the constellation of stars that both foil and complete Luc’s empty, dark night, that she’s the one who brings light to his existence. How am I not supposed to ship Addie x Luc when the book drills the star motif into our heads like that! I refuse to believe that the man who represents the night sky and tells the woman who represents the stars that he loves her didn’t genuinely mean it.

My personal interpretation is that they’ll play some more cat-and-mouse games through the centuries but ultimately will come together one day. I do believe Luc loves Addie, though she believes he doesn’t love her because you have to be willing to let someone go if you love them. Luc’s love may not be pure and selfless, but I do believe it is love.

He’s a dark entity, a monster of the night that is thousands/millions of years old. His love is different and exists with him on a different scale of feeling than that of a normal human. He’s also likely horrifically starved and greedy for true affection. Addie is probably the only true companion he’s had in forever. Remember how angry and defensive he became when she claimed that they were alike and both lonely? And then decades later he concedes that she may have been right. It’s because he’s been in denial about being lonely for his entire existence, but Addie challenges him on that and has him realise that there may be something more to his existence than taking souls.

He tells her that he saw the elephant in Paris and how it reminded him of one of their earliest conversations. Seeing an elephant in Paris would be nothing to an immortal like him, but it shows that Addie has had an effect on him and his outlook in life, given some meaning to a mundane thing that he otherwise would not have cared about. Addie is living in his mind RENT-FREE at this point. Luc also shows compassion for her in many vital moments, like saving her from the war camp and from the streets during the revolution, later on even helping her with smaller things like escaping the ticket inspector.

These acts of kindness do not erase his bad deeds, but they do show him to be a morally grey character who has grown to care for Addie’s wellbeing and safety. It would have been in his best interests to let her get tortured so she’d give up her immortality earlier, but he still saved her. She’s the only being in the world who has seen his true form, she accepts him for who and what he is. She has seen him when he was cruel and when he was merciful, she gave him a name and a face that he has kept as his chosen form for 300 years (HE EVEN USED THAT FORM FOR HENRY’S DEAL!)

You can’t tell me Luc didn’t have any kind of special attachment or affection for Addie. The fact that he answers to the name she gave him, that he has chosen to wear the face of the imaginary lover that Addie carefully sketched and dreamed of over and over in her youth.

Addie accuses him of wearing the face of her imaginary lover because he is trying to manipulate and taunt her (which may have been true at the start), but that doesn’t explain why he would wear it to see Henry too, and the countless other humans he has probably dealt with in the past 300 years. It’s almost like he and Addie both gave and took from each other, that Addie gave him a name, face and human connection—that she took this old god, a void of darkness that swallows souls, and made it care for her enough to make it try to be a man for her.

I know it’s a stand-alone novel but I would love something along the lines of a short spin-off full of snapshots about Addie and Luc post-ending (like How The King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories). An epilogue of sorts to tie up loose ends and give us some closure, see what Addie and Luc end up as, to let us see Addie find her peace and be truly happy. I feel like the author tried so hard to make a statement that Addie is a strong independent woman who is still fighting that we didn’t actually get to see her be happy.

Her final moments of the book, where she should be feeling content and at peace about everyone knowing her story, and she should be shown getting ready to move on with her life and leave behind her fixation of being remembered. But it gets tainted by this sudden spike of revenge and malice that ends the story on a negative note and ends up feeling kind of sad tbh.....

#the invisible life of addie larue #addie x luc #luc x addie #addie larue #tiloal #meta

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shah-writes · 3 years

Text

an artificially intelligent curse

so i read this article about a man who uses AI to speak with his dead fiancee and i simply cannot stop thinking about it. there’s no MCD in this! but you can find my thoughts at the bottom.

tldr; think AI + Inception + Drarry

“Draco’s dying.”

Ron is Harry’s best friend in the whole world but sometimes he can be a bit daft.

“No, he’s not,” Harry replies serenely. He’s not. Draco is in the kitchen, wearing the light blue sweater Harry gave him last Christmas and a rosy flush Harry gave him two minutes ago.

“They think you can help him.” Ron is staring at a point above Harry’s shoulder. Harry shifts slightly to follow Ron’s gaze and finds Draco standing there, levitating three steaming mugs of tea onto the table.

Except. Except, Draco doesn’t drink tea. He drinks cheap, Instant coffee, a consequence of his time spent working in America. Harry teases him about it all the time.

There’s a slight thud as two mugs hit the table, the third has vanished.

Draco settles into a chair. “No tea for me,” he says playfully. There’s a small Statue of Liberty trinket on the bookshelf behind Ron. Harry relaxes.

“Ron was just telling me a story,” Harry shares.

Draco smiles and leans forward expectantly on the table. It’s a set they thrifted last weekend: one Walnut table and four Cherry chairs— one ingredient away from a meal, Draco had joked.

“It’s a curse, Harry. ‘Mione figured it out. It’s preying on your memories.”

Harry gives Ron a conciliatory nod and reaches out to brush a dark curl away from Draco’s forehead. Draco has platinum hair, he remembers, as an afterthought.

The strands shift to a blinding white immediately. Or were they always white? They must have been, Draco would never dye his hair.

“It’s you, Harry. You’re teaching it how to trap you.”

Harry reluctantly turns back toward Ron.

“What makes us human?” Ron asks. “Harry, I know you can hear me, you just have to listen. What makes us human?”

“I… I don’t know,” Harry mumbles.

“Instinct, Harry. Emotion and instinct.”

Ron is sitting on a cushioned armchair and Harry wonders absently where he got it. All Harry has are four Cherry chairs. He nearly expects to see Ron’s chair transform into dark wood. It doesn’t.

“You can’t teach humanity,” Ron continues. “You can teach a Thing how to learn, how to adapt. You can force it to consume everything around it until it knows right from wrong. Until it becomes as intelligent as any of us, but you can never teach it instinct. Look around, Harry, use your instinct.”

There’s a portrait on the wall. Four people. Harry and Draco. An older woman with almond-shaped green eyes and freckles over her nose; an older man with dark skin and Harry’s own unruly hair.

“Hermione’s calling it an AI-Curse. Artificial Intelligence. It sweeps through your mind quickly and puts together a scenario where you feel comfortable. It’ll get things wrong, of course. It doesn’t know which memories are relevant, which are wrong, which are just daydreams. That’s where you come in. You tell It when it’s wrong and you reward It when it’s right.”

Draco’s sitting still at the table. Harry beckons him over.

“I love that picture of us,” Draco says happily, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“What is this?”

“Us and your parents, silly.”

“Draco, my parents are dead. They’ve been dead for 27 years.”

Draco blinks. “I know. Do you miss them?”

Harry snaps back to the portrait. His parents have disintegrated out of the frame.

Ron’s still sitting at the table in his armchair. “Malfoy’s condition is deteriorating. He’s succumbing to the curse. Once he’s given up all of his memories, he’ll die trapped in a fake world of his own design.”

“Stop,” Harry says; and then, “STOP,” louder, facing Ron. Ron doesn’t hear him. Because… because Ron’s not here. Ron and his stubborn, incongruous armchair aren’t here. Harry can hear the humming of Mungo’s Stasis charms echoing somewhere in his mind, the quiet bustle of the hallway, the frantic whispering.

The only person here is Draco. Draco, who barely ever comes over to Harry’s flat. Draco, who flirts with him over lunches but flinches away when Harry reaches out to sweep his blonde hair off his forehead.

There’s a rosy flush on Draco’s cheeks except Harry’s not the one that gave it to him. Harry’s never kissed Draco; they’re partners and friends and maybe something that transcends description, but not this. Not yet.

“Draco, why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s smiling at him, eyes soft. It’s a daydream. Harry swallows down the grief of the realization.

“We’re not dating, we’re not anything, why are you in my flat?”

Draco freezes.

“No, no, no, please, no,” Harry’s grasping at him desperately but there’s nothing there. Just pixels floating away from each other, dissolving into the air.

“NO!” Harry’s kneeling, face hidden in his hands. “No, I can’t do this alone, I can’t, come back… please come back.” He knows it’s impossible; you can’t teach humanity, Ron had said. AI doesn’t understand emotions, won’t bring him back now that it knows he doesn’t belong.

“They want to Obliviate you,” Ron continues, speaking at Harry’s bedside at Mungo’s, imitated in Harry’s subconscious.

“What?” Harry turns and scrambles toward Ron.

“Hermione had a near conniption,” he chuckles. “But it’s the logical solution. The curse absorbs everything you show it and gives it back to you, better and smarter. If there’s no data for it to learn from, then you’re free.”

Harry collapses into the chair beside Ron, mind whirling. The room twists around them. They’re in the Gryffindor Common Room now, Ginny and Hermione near the fireplace, no more Walnut table and Cherry chairs. Except, Molly Weasley’s washing dishes in the corner. No.

Obediently, Molly Weasley pops away. And then, the room is shifting again.

“Without memories, the curse will implode into the simplest version of itself: a basic mind trap. Straightforward, simple. The kind that Aurors learn in training.”

“JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO, RON,” Harry bellows.

The Burrow. Except, there are two Georges. No. The room glitches and restarts.

“They won’t try Obliviation with Malfoy. Healers think it’s too late, that he’s too weak even to break out of the simplest version.”

The office and Draco… he’s back. He’s back and alive and leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, inspecting a takeout box. Yes.

The room fills in further, encouraged. Case files pile up on Harry’s desk; Draco’s Statue of Liberty trinket is back, in the right place this time; an evidence board on the wall, newspaper clippings, Draco’s neat, white notes, Harry’s scrawl.

“It’s unethical to deprive him of his memories now.” Ron says.

Harry inspects the board closely. 7 people dead over 2 months. Inconsistencies in their deaths, but clearly perpetrated by the same actor. A pale blue envelope mailed to each victim. It explodes within minutes of delivery, enveloping its target into a coma.

Seemingly random victims. A middle-aged mother, an elderly school teacher, a teenager days away from his 15th birthday. Muggles, Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and a Squib. Varying races, different financials.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Draco’s staring at him. “Almost as if they chose the most diverse targets on purpose.”

Harry turns to him slowly, “Why?”

Draco tosses him an egg roll and shrugs, “Make sure we can’t trace them?” Draco joins him at the board, looks over the victim list.

The first had taken one month to die, slowly incapacitated. The second had taken only half that time, he had perished within two weeks. Faster and faster after that. The latest victim, a five-year old girl, was gone in three days.

It was the first time, in five years of working together, that Harry saw Draco break down. Crouched outside her Mungo’s room, shivering, quiet; Harry had pulled him up and deposited him home. He came back to work two days later, his clenched jaw and fierce determination lodging itself into Harry’s heart.

Draco’s written a note under her picture: The curse is learning.

“What is this?”

“You didn’t see the Mungo’s report? They think it’s targeting memories. With each iteration, it’s getting faster and killing quicker. Hermione was telling me about this thing…”

“Artificial Intelligence.”

“Exactly,” Draco smiles, surprised, “it absorbs huge amounts of data until it learns how to adapt to every condition.”

“The diverse victims— someone is teaching it how to learn, adapt to every condition,” Harry repeats. Draco’s standing near his desk again, illuminated by the soft light of his lamp. Soft blonde locks fall into his eyes as he looks over a case file. Harry wonders if this version will flinch away if he reaches out. Wonders if the curse has learned this detail yet. He hopes it hasn’t.

“They’re going to let him die in his own fake world. A peaceful death, they called it.” Ron is still sitting in the corner of the office, in a cushioned armchair.

Harry shakes his head, silently, frantically. There’s a pale blue envelope on Draco’s desk.

“Draco, what is that?”

Draco looks at the envelope and back at Harry, nonchalant. Then, his face morphs into fear, mirroring Harry’s own expression. It’s the curse, it’s learning. Harry’s teaching it.

“The curse was targeting Malfoy. You were hit since you were in such close proximity, but it's a much weaker variant. You can make it out, Harry. You can help Malfoy navigate out.” Ron says from his corner.

“Harry,” Draco whispers. “What do I do?”

Harry strides forward, takes Draco’s shoulders in his hands. This is real now; Harry remembers this morning. “I’ll come for you, okay? We know what it is now, we’ll figure out how to stop it. Draco, you’ll be fine.”

Draco’s falling now. His eyes are shut, he’s laying on the floor, head tilted toward Harry.

Draco’s dying.

“RON, WHAT DO I DO? TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Ron’s not in his corner anymore. He’s gone, and so is his armchair, and it’s just Harry alone, in his office, with Draco’s body.

The room is still filling up around him. Draco’s coffee mug, steaming on his desk. Blank walls slowly plastered over with Auror-standard tan wallpaper. Except. Except, Severus Snape is standing over Draco.

Harry steps closer cautiously, willful not to let the curse know that Snape doesn’t belong.

“The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than Potions,” Snape says, looking up at Harry with dark, hooded eyes.

A memory, then. Out of place, but relevant. Harry remembers Ron’s words: The curse doesn’t know which memories are relevant. It’s guessing, responding to Harry’s needs. It’s helping.

“Right. You’re right.” Harry says, loud. Snape solidifies, robes saturating darker.

“Rid your mind of all emotion,” Snape continues. “Empty it, make it blank and calm.”

“Empty it,” Harry whispers. He takes a last look at Draco and closes his eyes.

He opens them to a plain white room. Nothing on the walls, the floor. Nothing, except a door. A simple mind trap. Harry opens the door.

i just love the idea that the curse helps him get out. since AI is always developed in service to others, i like the idea that even weaponized as a curse, it would still adapt to the needs of its target and help them in any way possible. idk pals!!!! i just have a lot of thoughts about AI, come scream with me about it!!!!!!!

also, if you haven’t already, i would highly recommend reading the article this is based off-- it is fascinating.

#shah-writes #i pored through OotP for the first time in a decade for the Snape quotes lmao #drarry fic #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #ron weasley

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andvys · 3 years

Text

I don’t wanna be your friend

You never believed in love or at least you didn’t believe in it when it came to you, you didn’t think you were worth being loved and you didn’t think you deserve it not after everything that you have done to survive.

After all you have been through could you still believe that there is something good in this world like love?

You had no faith in that but that changed when you came to Jackson and you met the pretty green eyed girl. Ellie Williams. She made you feel like you were worth being loved, like you actually deserve feeling like this even if it’s just platonically (that’s what you thought it was, at least from her side). She made you forget about all the bad things that you’ve been through. There was no weight on your shoulders when you were with Ellie.

You never thought you’d experience these types of feelings. You’ve read a lot of romance novels and as interesting as they are you always thought they were a little too cliche, the way people fall in love with each other or the way one talks about the other. You used to cringe at them but now you feel like one of the characters of the many books you’ve read that have fallen in love with someone and would take forever to confess their feelings to their crush. You’re annoyed at yourself and your feelings, why does it have to be Ellie? She’s your best friend and you’re pretty convinced she’s not into you and you would never ruin your friendship with her because of your stupid feelings, you’d rather stay miserable forever and love her from afar than ruin any chances at having her in your life.

But what you don’t know is that Ellie feels the same way about you. She loves you and she loved you right from the start, when she first saw you she felt like time stopped and she was staring at you in awe. Your pretty (e/c) eyes trained on her and a shy smile appeared on your face, Jesse was showing you around in Jackson, he was talking your ear off or at least that’s what it looked like to Ellie. Ellie being so in trance with your beauty, she didn’t realize you and Jesse were walking towards her. Jesse was trying to catch her attention but she was still staring at you. To her you were the most beautiful girl she has ever seen in her life and it made her nervous, was that what love at first sight feels like? Ellie was pretty convinced that it was.

“Hello, earth to Ellie” Jesse waved his hand in front of her face, she realized she was shamelessly staring at you while Jesse was trying to catch her attention for at least a whole minute. She noticed your flushed cheeks, you were looking down, probably nervous because of her staring. She thought you looked adorable with that blush on your face.

“Oh sorry guys, how’s it going?” She was really trying to act cool in front of you even though she felt anything but cool in that moment. Jesse noticed her checking you out and smirked to himself “Ellie this is (y/n), (y/n) this is Ellie. (Y/n) arrived here yesterday, I was just showing her around, we’re about halfway done but I have to go see Tommy, maybe you could show her the rest?”

Ellie knew what Jesse was doing, he did not have to go meet Tommy he was teasing her because he catched her staring at you. He was going to pay for this, later.

“Umm sure, yeah I can do that”, Jesse winked at Ellie which made her glare at him.

“Alright I better get going, don’t want to make Tommy wait, it was nice meeting you (y/n), I better see you around!”. You smiled at him, you liked Jesse he seemed like he was going to be a good friend. “Sure and thanks for the tour!”. And with that Jesse was gone and Ellie was left alone with you.

“Alright, shall we?” She was trying to avoid your eyes, she was embarrassed about Jesse and you catching her staring and checking you out earlier.

You were quite, she glanced at you and noticed that you were the one doing the staring now.

Ellie smirked to herself, “(y/n)?”.

“Oh yeah, let’s go”, you gave her a sweet smile, one that made Ellie feel weak in the knees.

Catching herself staring at you again, she tried to play it cool and act like she didn’t just do that again. “Yeah let’s go”.

This was the beginning of your beautiful friendship. Everything you did, you did together.

You were always assigned for patrols together. You’d hang out together as much as you could. She’d play guitar and sing for you. You’d write poems for her and she would make cute little drawings of you.

You had regular movie nights that’d turn into sleepovers because Ellie always (purposely) choose scary movies to watch, ones that made you feel so scared that you’d always end up cuddled in Ellie’s arms. You felt safe wrapped in her arms and Ellie loved having you cling to her.

She’d lovingly look down on you and admire your beautiful face. She was so in love with you.

Whenever you would sleep over you’d be the first to wake up, you’d trace her tattoo and count the many freckles on her face and lovingly watch her sleep. The love you felt for this girl was out of this world, you would do anything for her.

And she would do anything for you.

Everyone else could see how much you two loved each other everyone except for the both of you it seemed.

All Ellie wanted to do was just grab your face, kiss you and confess her undying love for you but she was pretty convinced that you didn’t like her this way. Sure you would cuddle and sleep in her arms but that’s just what best friends do right?

Ellie was pretty sure she would die alone because she just wants you but you probably don’t want her or do you? She has never seen you flirt with anyone. She has never seen you be interested in someone. You were always with her, you gave her all of your attention and you’d always make sure she has eaten enough. You’d bring her gifts back whenever you weren’t on patrol together. Is that really what best friends do? Or is there a slight chance that you could feel the same about Ellie as she feels about you?

She decides to take a chance and confess her feelings for you.

Ellie grabs her coat and leaves her shed, on the way to your house she thinks about how she’s going to do it. How do you tell your best friend that you have fallen in love with them?

She arrived at your house way quicker than she wanted to. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on your door. With a racing heart she waited for you to open the door.

You open the door and your face immediately lights up seeing her standing there. Ellie looked nervous “hey el, come in. I actually just wanted to come over.” You smiled at her. Ellie walked in, your smile making her feel a little less nervous.

She sat down on your sofa, you sat down next to her.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something” she took your hand in hers. You realized she was anxious about something and that made you worry for the girl. You noticed whatever she was about to tell you made her feel scared about your reaction. “What’s going on El? You know you can talk to me”.

“I love you, (y/n).” She blurted out. This is not how she wanted to do it. She mentally slapped herself. But she was way too nervous to actually form any sentences. This was the only way to do it.

“I love you too, Ellie” you were a little confused as to why she was telling you this, you constantly told each other how much you loved each other.

“No (y/n)... I.. not like this, I love you like I am in love with you and I’ve been in love with you forever.”

You stared at her, your big (e/c) eyes looking into her beautiful green eyes. You were shocked not knowing what to say, how? Ellie is in love with you? Like you are in love with her? This can’t be real. It’s just to good to be true.

The silence was killing Ellie. She immediately regretted confessing her love for you, she felt like she messed everything up. “Please say something”. You stayed quiet, too shocked about her confession. Was this actually happening?

“Shit (y/n)... I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything” Ellie got up wanting to leave your house as quickly as possible.

You got out of your trance like state and grabbed Ellie’s hand turning her around “I’m in love with you too Ellie” pressing your lips against hers she let out a gasp, wide eyed watching you she realized she’s not kissing you back, closing her eyes she grabbed your face and pulled you closer, passionately kissing you. This was all she ever dreamed off, no it was even better than that.

Pulling away from the kiss you looked into each other’s eyes and smiled at each other, going in for another kiss. Your hands caressing her waist, you pulled her even closer, if that was even possible.

She gently stroked your cheek with her thumb and smiled into the kiss.

You pulled away from her and opened your eyes and looked at her with loving eyes, seeing her look at you just the same. “This kiss was even better than how it’s described in the books”.

“You’re such a dork”. She laughed at you and kissed your forehead. “Yeah but I’m your dork”.

You hugged her, laying your head on her chest.

She held you tight, “yeah you’re my dork, I love you”.

“And I love you, El”.

She felt so happy to hear you saying those words knowing they aren’t meant in a platonic way. She was happy she took a chance and decided to confess her feelings for you. Hearing you say you’re in love with her, is the best feeling in the world. Knowing that the girl she’s in love with, is in love with her too could make her cry happy tears. She could finally kiss you and be able to call you her girl.

She’s yours and you are hers.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou imagines #tlou

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initiala · 3 years

Text

Oh hai.

It's not dead or abandoned! Remember how I started this for @cssns 2018???? Just, y'know, life happening, and also several global catastrophes. But it turns out that writer's block is really cured by procrastination, which is why I was able to finally figure out some spots I was stuck on while not packing up my apartment to move.

Please enjoy this overly delayed post-wedding fluff and smut.

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

______________

The holidays weren’t really something she paid attention to, not after her parents died. Her mother had loved any excuse to have a party and Emma had grown up with the nondenominational trappings of Christmas in their house, but the tradition had died with Snow and David when she was sixteen. She normally spent the last week of December pulling extra shifts at work, covering for people who had families and wanted the extra time off, and never had a second thought about it. The Pack had their own holidays, particularly around the solstices, but nothing compared to the warm, colorful parties of her childhood -- and frankly, nothing ever would.

So when their short honeymoon fell over Christmas Eve and Day, Emma didn’t think anything of it. Killian made no indication that he celebrated it, and when they returned home on Boxing Day it was to a chilly apartment without any of the decorations that dotted the windows up and down their street. She turned up the heat a little while Killian took their bags back to the bedroom to be sorted out, and she double-checked the windows were locked tight while turning on a few lights in the living room.

The colorful twinkle outside meshed with the light snowfall in a way that made her heart twist painfully in her chest, a flash of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears and a brief memory of her father cornering her mother under the mistletoe. Her thumb went to the band on her finger, a lump forming in her throat, and she remembered why she normally worked herself to the bone this time of year.

Work was a distraction from missing them.

“Emma?”

She whipped the curtains shut to put an extra layer between the cold glass and the warming room, between herself and her memories, and turned to face her husband as he came into the room. “Love, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but his large hand engulfed her own as it went to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Darling, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this but I can smell when you’re sad,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been home five minutes, you can talk to me.”

Fuck, she hated talking about her feelings and her parents and particularly her feelings about her parents. But she’d promised -- she’d vowed -- that she’d be more open and honest with him, and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get lucky and guess what all of this was about. She hadn’t told him enough about her parents to let him put all of the pieces together. “I just… I miss my parents,” she said softly, and let him hold her as he made a sympathetic noise and murmured soothing things in her ear. “Mom really loved this time of year. She threw the best parties, one year she actually got fairies to make it snow inside and me and the other kids had a snowball fight. She loved the colors and the whole family thing and she really loved the smell of pine trees -- it kind of gave my dad a headache. But we made it work because Dad always said how it put an extra sparkle in Mom’s eye and he loved her enough to put up with it. I normally try to work a lot through this time of year, everyone wants extra time off, but I was kind of hoping this year we could have some new memories to make this time of year less sad. And it helped, it really did, but then I just saw the lights outside and the snow and it just… it hit me a little harder because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about them. So I miss my parents and I’m sorry this time of year is going to suck no matter what and--”

Killian shushed her softly and she realized she was crying as he thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “If I’d known… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t blindfold you everywhere -- well, I could, but not in the fun way --” He grinned as she swatted him on the chest. “So testy, my love. You don’t have to be sorry about missing your parents. You just need to let me know, so I can comfort you or let you sit and mourn them in peace, or drive you to distraction. And if I need to do so more this time of year, well, let it be my burden to bear. You don’t have to bear this alone, Emma, you can always rely on me.”

And didn’t that just make her get teary all over again? “How the hell do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

“Because I’m magic,” he rumbled under her and she pinched his side. “And we’re too alike, you know. Now, what do you need?”

She sniffled and took a breath, taking mental stock. They really needed to unpack and get everything sorted out for laundry, but while that would keep her hands busy her mind would wander and she really didn’t want to keep thinking about the past. But she knew that leaving everything until tomorrow or the next day would bother Killian; she didn’t want to be alone right now, either. “Can we bring the bags back out here and watch TV while we unpack? I know you just put them away but--”

He was already nodding, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, love.”

Since he’d been the one to put them away and she was being the emotional asshole, she figured it was only fair that she bring the bags back out. She had no idea how he’d done it all in one trip, not with how narrow the hall was and how much she disliked scuffing her baseboards with the wheels, and surreptitiously eyed them as she made multiple trips back and forth.

No scuffs. “I’m magic,” she mumbled in a sarcastic imitation of her husband’s accent, shaking her head.

Killian had the TV on to the classic movie channel and the unmistakable scent of chocolate lingered in the air. “Dash of cream liqueur, whipped cream, and cinnamon,” he said, handing her a mug as she sat down.

Emma smiled into it, letting the warmth of the drink and the liqueur slide into her belly. “Did I ever tell you Mom’s the reason I like this?”

“Mm, no.”

She watched as he deftly unzipped the largest bag and started sorting through it; she’d done little more than toss everything in without caring about wrinkles, and the whole thing reeked of sex and wine -- they’d had not nearly enough of both over the last few days, but apparently enough to let the scent sink in to all the fabric. A different kind of warmth settled under her skin, but she wasn’t in the mood to act on it just yet. “According to my dad, Mom drank this all the time when she was pregnant with me. Her biggest craving; not that she didn’t like it before, but it was like another level. So then it became our thing, once I was old enough to have some, just sitting together on the couch or in the kitchen or wherever, with our matching cocoa with cinnamon.”

Killian glanced over at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart swelled suddenly with reaffirmation of how much she loved him. His bangs fell over his forehead in a way some might call rakish, but when he looked at her like that -- lips quirked up in amusement at his own joke he was about to tell, unable to hide his glee at his own cleverness -- she could only call it boyish. “Sweet tooth before you were even born, eh Swan?”

Maybe not a joke then, but teasing, like they were twelve and he was pulling her tail. “I’m a wolf of taste,” she said loftily, setting her mug aside and pulling up another suitcase to go through. “Unlike some mangy curs around here.”

“Mangy cur?” Emma squeaked as she found herself pinned under him on the floor, his nose brushing against hers and heat flooding her body. His grin promised absolute filth, the hard length of his body pressed against hers deliciously, and the scent of his arousal was enough to make her dizzy. “Didn’t realize we were comparing pedigrees here, princess. Too bad you’re stuck with the mangy cur and not some stuffy purebred.”

“I happen to like the mangy cur,” she whispered, their lips close enough to tease.

“Good,” he growled. “Because he likes you too.”

She moaned into his kiss, which was far gentler than she was expecting, and he let up on her arms enough to allow her the space to embrace him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then down his back, where she teased the patch of skin revealed by his sweater riding up. “Emma.”

He pulled back and she smiled at how he already looked wrecked. She glanced over his face, refamiliarizing herself with the little details she already had memorized but still loved looking at: the old scar on his cheek, the ginger hairs in his beard, the little freckles and the way his eyebrow seemed to jump up on its own when he got curious about something. He caught her eye with his again and one corner of his mouth ticked up, a sudden shyness in the way his eyes darted around, like he wasn’t sure she was staring at him . “What?”

She shook her head, reaching down and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, earning a surprised -- and pleased -- noise from him as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I just… really love you,” she said when they parted.

His cheeks reddened, but just around his cheekbones, and she loved that she knew that detail about him. If she was further back, she’d be able to see his ears turning the same color, and if she really got to him she’d be able to get his nose to match. She liked the way he could get around her, quiet and unabashedly himself, someone who couldn’t take a compliment seriously and waved off words of praise. It drove her a little crazy, but she’d made her vows to voice her feelings to him and she was going to make good on those vows.

“I love you too,” he said, his nose brushing against hers, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

The laundry could wait.

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

“ There she is!” Ruby hollered, ignoring the glares from the other bar patrons.

Emma also ignored the knowing looks on both Ruby and Dorothy’s faces as she shrugged out of her coat. She knew her hair was mussed and she had beard burn on the side of her neck -- Killian had a particular fondness for this dress and the lack of coverage it provided -- and she was definitely late for their night out, but she only felt the slightest hint of guilt over that. Besides, both Ruby and Dorothy knew what it was like to be newly mated, so they could cut her a break. “Hey, thanks for saving me a seat.”

She flagged down a waitress to take her drink order and then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “So… how’s it going?” Ruby asked in a sing-song.

“Babe.” Dorothy elbowed her.

“What? She’s got sex hair and she reeks of it. If that’s her excuse, she’d better dish.”

Emma rolled her eyes, cracking open a shell. “We didn’t have sex, thank you, he just… made it hard to leave.”

“Oh I’ll bet something was hard.”

“Ruby.”

The waitress arrived with Emma’s drink and they ordered one of those mixed appetizers platters to share, as well as another round of drinks. Emma gulped half of her drink after the waitress left again before saying, “I won’t kiss and tell.”

As Ruby made a face, Dorothy reached for her own peanuts. “Some of us appreciate that.”

Emma downed the rest of her gin and tonic; she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it, and seeing as how this was a wolf bar the drinks were made to match their metabolisms, but this was the first time she was getting to hang out with her friends since her wedding and she wanted to have fun. Tipsy, ridiculous fun, with no husbands and no responsibilities. Girl time. Catch-up time.

Only, she realized as the conversation started to actually move towards catching up on each other’s lives, she just had stories about Killian.

“Okay, I forbid you to talk about your husband for thirty seconds,” Ruby said, pointing a french fry at her for emphasis. The appetizers had been replaced by entrees, and Emma rolled her eyes as she took an enormous bite of her burger. Fine, she’d just chew instead. “You have to have been doing something other than banging each other silly or going to work.”

Emma took her time with her food, drawing out Ruby’s challenge and taking some small joy in the agitated tick in her friend’s eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you don’t know what I do for work,” she said finally, reaching for the ketchup. “And we’re in a post-holiday lull, so it’s gonna be a bit before things get interesting.”

“One of us has got to get a different job,” Ruby declared, while her mate rolled her eyes indulgently.

Emma didn’t bother to respond, instead flagging down the waitress for another G & T. There was definitely a happy buzz going on under her skin and she wanted it to continue; the burger would only dull the effects before too long.

“Bitch on the prowl, ten o’clock,” Dorothy said suddenly, looking towards the door.

Emma and Ruby turned to look, with what felt like most of the bar’s patrons and staff following their lead. A woman she didn’t recognize was taking off her coat, revealing a dress that would send normal humans rushing to her side in an instant; here, it only added to the allure of her scent. She was obviously in heat, unattached, and looking to rectify the situation.

Already two men were walking towards her, jostling one another to make her acquaintance first; Emma just looked back to her tablemates with a look of resignation. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

“Neither is she; she must be the first one of the season,” Dorothy said, watching the situation near the door with mild interest.

“Just glad it isn’t me this time.”

“If there wasn’t any concern about like, us not being turned into a science freak show, I would absolutely watch our version of a trash dating show.”

“Babe, we have too many seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list as it is,” Ruby said.

“Correction, we don’t have enough seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list.”

Emma glanced back at the display happening on the other side of the bar, letting the sound of her friends teasing each other blend into the rest of the noise. This woman was definitely taking no prisoners, making eye contact with one of the men while her hand rested almost possessively on the arm of the other, her lips spread into a wide smile. Hell, she was charmed by this kind of display, especially when the woman demurely glanced at the second man under her lashes for a moment. Maybe Dorothy was right about a dating show… She watched as the woman laughed at something one of the men said, throwing her head back to give everyone a good look -- and smell -- at her neck, and Emma found herself dazedly wondering when she might be able to slip away back home and ravish her husband.

“Oh no, we’ve lost her.”

“Pheromones side effect, tragic really.”

She blinked back to attention. “What?”

Ruby looked annoyed, but Dorothy at least seemed sympathetic. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase, babe, it’s gonna be a while before everything settles down. The coming season doesn’t help.”

“Okay, you can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Emma snapped. Her drink had been refreshed without her notice and she downed it. “I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up about Killian and whatever.”

Ruby started to respond, but Dorothy silenced her with a look. Whatever silent argument they had, Ruby lost and she huffed as she went back to her meal. The reaction stung -- it’s not like Emma hadn’t sat through hours of Ruby pining and then gushing over her own mate, she could stand being the recipient for a while -- but Emma felt it wasn’t worth it to argue and ruin the evening by just turning it into a fight.

Eventually, they started talking again, Ruby breaking first with some pack gossip. The night never got to the raucous levels any of them might have hoped it could get to, but was overall a nice time and Emma even forgot about getting her feelings hurt. It felt good to get out of the house for a while with friends -- but when someone wolf-whistled as the woman in heat from earlier waltzed out with an entirely different man clutched possessively at her side, Emma thought it might be even better to get back home to her mate.

Even short periods of absence seemed to make the heart grow fonder.

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

As the new year rolled through to its second month, Emma and Killian quietly celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting, marveling at how much had changed in just a year. Killian noticed that Emma seemed to greet each day with increasing wariness, and his own awareness of the mating season coming into bloom turned into some kind of insatiable itch under his skin.

He’d never participated in mating season before meeting Emma. He’d been soured from pursuing any sort of relationship after the disastrous affair with Milah, and even when he’d been half underwater with alcohol he’d decided he’d never again get snared by any she-wolf’s trap. And to his embittered mind, mating season was just another trap, luring men into siring pups or trying to turn a one-night tryst into a long-term commitment. Even after he’d sobered up and straightened himself out, he’d still felt the sting of rejection in his phantom limb and did his best to stay occupied and aloof in spring.

Until Emma.

He’d known from the start that she was different, that chance encounter with her packmates. She had fire, and the way she’d immediately come at him on the offense had piqued his interest immediately. Then the wind had shifted and he’d immediately known what the source of the problem with her packmates had been, the full-blown scent of a bitch in heat burrowing down to awaken his most basic instincts. He’d done his best to remain a gentleman and let her walk away, as she’d clearly had no interest in acting on her own hormones, and once her scent faded on the wind he’d walked away as fast as he could without rousing anyone’s suspicion. He’d thought that was the end of it, until a chance meeting at a bar led to a delightful night of conversation and drinks…

And the most wonderful, passionate woman he’d ever had the pleasure to offer himself up to the next day.

Poor love had been so miserable when he’d come to see if his magical hangover remedy worked for her that he’d hardly reacted to the overwhelming bouquet of Emma in heat. He’d acted immediately to try and rectify the errors in her spice cabinet, mixing his potion and letting her recover. And as he tidied up the mess he’d made, it became increasingly hard (in many senses of the phrase) to ignore the fact that he was absolutely surrounded by pheromones and the obvious lingering scent of everything she’d done to relieve herself of the ache over the last several days. And when she’d emerged from her blanket nest again and stood there with only a shirt and her knickers and legs that went on for miles and giving him every last chance to run before they’d do something they’d regret?

He’d never wanted someone more in his entire life, mating season or not.

It wasn’t long after he returned home, he realized that long weekend in her bed (and her shower and her kitchen… and one particularly enjoyable occasion with her back pressed to the window and the lights in the living room turned off to keep the outside world in the dark to their activities) would never be enough for him. Liam accused him of moping, his friends thought he needed to get out and meet someone new to get Emma out of his system.

Looking up now, watching her enter the room shyly and holding out a simple padded envelope, he knew just as well now as he’d known then: he could never get her out of his system, even if he tried.

“What’s this, love?” he asked, accepting the envelope from her as she settled in the crook of his arm.

“Early valentine’s present,” she said simply.

They had a reservation at a restaurant that day, so he was a little confused as to why she didn’t want to simply wait until then. “Any particular reason why this is an early gift?”

Her scent changed, a little surge of arousal, and amusement laced her voice, “I kind of figured it was safer to give these to you in private.”

Well now he was intrigued. “Very well then, thank you and I accept.”

Reaching into the envelope, he felt photos -- a stack of actual printed, glossy photographs. He glanced down at his wife -- fuck, he’d never be over that, his wife -- and watched her chew her bottom lip nervously as he pulled the photos out.

Each photo featured Emma in some way, posed and primping and perfect in all her glory. These weren’t amateur photos by any means, and even her hair and make-up looked like someone else had done the job -- not that Emma did poorly at her own appearance, but she wasn’t one to add such accentuation to her eyes to give them that smoky effect. Killian swallowed hard as he went through each photo, his heart thumping especially loud in his ears: Emma looking directly at the camera in some sort of modernized glamour shot; Emma from behind, shot from the waist up, looking coyly over her shoulder as she slipped a shirt -- was that one of his? -- down her arms to expose her back beneath a wave of blond curls; Emma laid out on dark satin, her hair spilled around her like a halo, wearing what was definitely one of his button-downs and nothing else from the way she gripped it closed. “Emma, how did you--” his throat felt nearly as tight as his pants as he paused at the next photo, her eyes downcast as she lay on her stomach, the curve of her breast visible in the opening of his shirt.

“I am people who know people,” she said simply.

On and on it went, all of them sensual or titillating without pushing the envelope enough to qualify as lewd, until the last one: she reclined on her side, propped up on her elbow, on a pelt that matched her own. Completely bare, her back faced the camera, her hair spilling down her shoulders as she looked to the side, not quite looking over her shoulder but enough to give the viewer a look at her demure profile in an otherwise completely shameless photograph.

“Jesus Christ, Emma…”

She rested her head against his shoulder, by all appearances merely a content wife who was pleased her husband liked her gift, rather than the mischievous seductress she truly was. Minx. “You like them?” she asked.

“Very much. And may I add, excellent call on a private viewing,” he murmured, nosing her hair. “Had anyone else even glimpsed these, I would have had to rip their throats out with my teeth.”

She hummed and he grinned as her scent flared. “The whole murderous, possessive alpha male thing shouldn’t be such a turn on,” she commented, and squeaked as he hauled her up in his lap.

Placing the photos on her lap, he tapped the last one with one finger. “This one should be blown up and professionally framed, I might hang it up in my office. Your arse is a work of art, love.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, “but wouldn’t that go against the whole ‘if anyone else saw these I’d kill them in cold blood’ thing?”

He tweaked her nose; she really was a terrible mimic of his accent. She always made him sound like a Mancunian somehow. “I didn’t say it had to be the main office, and while I admit that intimidating any potential contractors to a better profit turnover would be better, I can’t say I’d be able to get much work done with such a distraction.”

“And it being in your home office would do any better?”

“Well,” Killian said, drawling on the l’s, “for one thing, I wouldn’t have to travel far to take care of any, ah, problems that might arise from a viewing.” Emma snorted, no doubt feeling exactly the sort of problem he spoke of pressed against her bottom. “Though why would I need to look at this if I have the real thing waiting for me?”

“Who says I’ll be laying in wait for you?” she asked, poking his chest. “If our history says anything, I’m the one who pounces on you the moment you walk through the door.”

“Or sooner.”

“Or sooner,” she said. Looping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. “You really like them?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to remind her that he’d already answered that, but then he noticed the slight furrow of her brow, the nearly invisible downturn of her lips, her wide eyes flicking between his as she tried to read his expression. Killian softened, in several ways, remembering how difficult she found it to be vulnerable; he suspected the act of posing and taking the photographs had been easy -- Emma was a beautiful, confident woman and she knew it -- but now came the hard part: seeking approval. “I love them,” he told her seriously, tightening his hold around her. “A pale substitute for the real thing, but this on my desk,” he flitted through the photos to the glamor shot, “will remind me of the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home. And get me through the long , hard days when we don’t see one another.”

She gave him an overly patient look at where he’d emphasized his speech. He leaned down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows, breathing her in. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone such as you, my darling, but I’m grateful every day to whatever thread of fate drew us together.”

Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around him. She shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him; the intensity of it nearly overwhelmed him, telling him without words how much she loved him and appreciated what he’d said. He felt her fingers in his hair, grazing the sides of his face and neck, her lips moving against his with a hunger he recognized well. “Let’s move these,” he rasped, doing his best not to just throw the pictures all over the floor, “before we make a mess of them.”

Killian gladly let Emma take control then, pushing him flat on his back on the couch and straddling him. “Show me what you really think,” she said, and whipped her sweater over her head, the offending garment falling almost protectively over the stack of photographs on the floor.

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

The dream started the way it always did: she was sixteen again and her body wasn’t cooperating as she tried to climb the height to the challenge grounds. Most of this was pulled from memory, the sounds of her mother and Regina fighting, the bitter cold, the tang of blood on the wind, but while the stones under her were covered in ice and snow, she’d been able to climb with only a little trouble. She’d been more worried about what she’d find than making sure her feet were going in the right place.

In the dream, though, it was like moving through molasses. Images came in flashes -- her mother lunging and scoring a blow on Regina’s side, Regina’s snarl and the moonlight glinting off the ceremonial silver knives, her father bleeding to death on the ground. Her voice stuck in her throat as she tried to scream for help, like her mouth was sewn shut.

She was helpless to stop what was happening; she always had been, and even in a dream she couldn’t change the reality that her parents had been murdered in front of her.

But for the first time she was able to get to the top, only to find Regina fighting Killian instead of Snow. He had no knife, no weapon at all, swinging wildly with his fist and kicking where he could, but Regina seemed to have the upper hand as she dodged his every move. It looked like she was completely fine with letting him tire himself out first before she had to do anything; Emma tried to scream, tried to get them to stop -- why would Killian be fighting Regina? -- but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Killian lunged and Regina dodged with ease, moving on the offense for the first time as she slammed her elbow into his back. He fell with a cry and suddenly a rifle was in her hands. A crack sounded in the frozen night and then Killian lay still on the ground.

Her body moved, freed from whatever had trapped her in place. Regina was gone, and Emma flung herself at her mate’s form. He lay sprawled on his stomach, a dark, wet patch spreading across his back in the same place where he’d been shot last fall. She packed snow against the wound, an animal cry ripping from her throat in a desperate plea for help. She turned him over, trying to see if he was conscious, but he was white as death and as cold as if he’d lain there for hours instead of moments --

Emma woke, a scream stuck in her mouth as she fought to get the blankets that were tangled around her and constricting her movements off. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tumbled to the floor; the solid impact shook off the confusion between dreams and reality, but it couldn’t get the image of Killian bleeding out in the snow out of her mind. She curled in on herself as her mind blended it with the same sight of her parents that she’d relived over and over again for more than a decade, her chest aching as she tried to stifle her sobs.

It was late, but she hadn’t gone to bed as Killian had still been at work. She’d dozed off on the couch, something she hadn’t done in a long time—in the last few months, the combination of Alice’s crystal magic and the ever-present scent and feel of their mating bond in the bedroom had helped ease both of their night terrors. Their den represented safety and security, giving them peace of mind to rest easily.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Emma took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She reached for where she’d left her phone, using the hem of her shirt to scrub her face dry with her other hand, and checked to see if there were any messages. A few warm tears leaked out still, even as she checked the time and noted that Killian had texted not long ago to let her know he was on his way home.

As if on cue, the sound of keys in the hall reached her ears, and a moment later they scratched at the lock and then the door opened. “Sorry I’m so late, darling, I—what happened?”

He was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. She lay her head against his shoulder gratefully. “Bad dreams, it’s nothing.”

“Sweetling, the fear-scent hit me full in the face when I came in, it’s not nothing.”

His heartbeat under her ear soothed her, some of the lingering tension in her shoulders easing with the steady thrumming. Her arms went around him and his hold tightened, just a little, as if he could protect her from her own demons just by holding on tight.

She wished he could.

“Bad dreams,” she said again, clearing her throat after her voice came out thick. “A lot of the same, mixed up together in a shitty new brain cocktail I didn’t order.”

He knew about the recurring dream with her parents, and the newer ones from the incident in the fall, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to put together what she meant. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was waiting for you to get home and just nodded off.” Her book, forgotten until now, lay face-down on the floor, pages bunched up and wrinkled now from when it had fallen from her lap in sleep. “If I’d known you were staying that late I would have just gone to bed.”

Killian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was working on a contract and needed feedback from the overseas partner; it’s morning in Singapore so I knew I could get prompt replies. I should have said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I still feel terrible.” He kissed her again and stood, bringing her up with him. “Come on, let’s have a nightcap and you can tell me how to make it better.”

She smiled wanly. “I just need you. That’s all I need to make it better.”

Emma allowed him to lead her to the kitchen. “You have me, Swan, you know that. You’ll always have me.”

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

She woke slowly to the gentle, teasing press of lips against her own. There was a murmur in the back of her mind that sounded like ‘ wake up, darling ’ and she had the bewildering sensation of being in two places at once before a finger brushed against her neck and arousal surged through her body. Instantly she felt more alert, kissing Killian back with newly awakened vigor, and he groaned as she pushed him back, reversing their positions so she lay atop him. “Cheater,” she accused, only allowing them a moment to breathe before coming together again.

He stroked her mate-mark once more and the swell of arousal almost hurt; she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that lay between them, but Killian’s hand moved down, coaxing them apart to tease his fingers between her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she said, biting her lip at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the warmth pulsing through her body, the sparks of pleasure with every stroke. He ducked down, pressing his lips against her neck and she whimpered at the touch, feeling like she was melting into putty in his arms. “ Tease .”

“I’m a cheater, a tease,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating each word with another kiss. “What’s next? Scoundrel ?”

She cried out as his fingers thrust home, filling her with that delicious stretch she craved. She could feel him moving his fingers inside, teasing her further, and she didn’t know how she wasn’t just soaking his hand with how turned on she was right then. With each thrust of his fingers, he seemed to lift her up and it took her far too long to realize it was a combination of his own urging and her unconscious compliance as she rose up above him. She threw one leg over his waist and felt the head of his cock bump against her thigh; Killian withdrew his fingers and she looked down to watch him rub her juices off his fingers onto his cock as he took it in hand, quickly positioning himself in place for her to sink down on top of him. "Oh fuck me," he moaned as she began to move, her lips finding his mate-mark.

His fingers dug into her hip as she rode him, skin slapping as she chased her pleasure. The combination of their teasing each other’s mate-marks was driving her nearly insane with lust -- she barely noticed when she peaked, the need for more clawing its way through her veins. Killian protested when she lifted herself off him, but he seemed to pick up on the general plan when she turned and got on her hands and knees.

She gasped, sharp and shallow as he pushed in again, her hand grabbing a fistful of blanket for purchase. He felt so much bigger this way— always had since the way he’d taken her that first time. "If we're going to do this like animals, might as well look the part,” he’d said then, and she certainly felt like an animal now as she pushed back onto him in earnest, back arching and throat rough as she keened, pleading for more.

“Greedy girl,” Killian panted through grit teeth, his hips slamming against hers as she cried out. “Drenching my cock, begging for it.”

“ You woke me up,” she retorted, gasping again as he hit a good spot. “There--do that again, fuck .” His hand found her hip again, nails stinging into her skin just enough to pull a groan out of her. Again, he snapped his hips forward, but it’s less frenzied than before, sharper, calculated, and the breath that punched out of her lungs at the next thrust felt laced with fire. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, felt her heart stutter at the way his mark stood out dark against the morning light.

She slipped against the sheet, nearly buckling, but his hand was there before she could, sliding up the length of her torso to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Too-fast, she found herself surrounded by him, his weight half-draped on top of her as he pulled her flush against him and oh, oh . Fuck tumbled out of her again as she twisted to claim a rough kiss. Distracted, his hips slowed at the contact, but she pushed back again with a roll of her hips.

The hand on her shoulder urged her down, his weight shifting off her back as he reared back and her head pressed against the mattress. The angle was just right, a keen tearing from her throat as he resumed speed, driving into her hard and fast and -- “ Fuck, Killian! ”

His hand slipped under her, between her legs, found their way to her overstimulated clit and teased, drawing circles around it and pressing--

Killian’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand. Emma felt her orgasm slip beyond reach for the moment, her concentration broken, and she groaned in frustration. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be too early for anything but an emergency. “Killian, you should see who that was,” she mumbled, her head shifting against the mattress as he pounded into her.

Her husband snarled and that sent a little thrill down her spine, reigniting what had been lost. “Whoever it is should fucking know better than to call when I’m balls deep in my wife.”

She had no idea how to articulate how absurd that was, but he moved his hand again and squeezed her breast, leaving wet streaks of her own arousal along her skin and her core clenched around him in anticipation. He exhaled sharply, another little growl escaping him, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. She felt his fingers move along her skin, dancing up her back and nails scratching just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until they found her mate-mark once more and started tracing around it, lightly circling, pressing just enough--

She saw stars. Burst of color behind squeezed eyelids and an impossible wave of pleasure crashing through her, her legs feeling numb and buckling under her as he rode her through her orgasm until she heard a grunt signaling his own. She slid weakly down onto her stomach, her skin still tingling and her core still shuddering, dragging air into her lungs as fast as she could to try and calm her racing heart. She felt the bed shift behind her, heard Killian’s heavy breathing, then felt him settle between her legs. Before she could fully understand what was happening, she felt his nose brush the sensitive seam of her ass, and then dip lower as his tongue found her dripping, abused, and still fucking aroused cunt. “ Jesus --”

Emma tried to push herself up on her elbows, tried to army-crawl up the bed and away from her insatiable husband’s questing tongue, but he satisfied himself with only a few laps before pulling away. She twisted, flushed and glaring at the smug grin on his face. “Who’s greedy now?” she asked.

“I do love the taste of us together,” he admitted, righting himself and settling back on the pillows.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and summoned all of her strength to get up and go clean herself. Wobbly as it was, she managed the trip to the bathroom and even brought him a washcloth to clean himself up before giving her weary legs a rest and laying next to him. The heady feeling of arousal still burned inside, though more like a smoldering ember pile than the full-on inferno he’d worked her into before, but she pushed it away; she wasn’t in heat yet and her body had limits.

For now.

“So what was that for?” Emma asked.

“Do I need a reason to wake my wife and lavish her with my attentions?” She poked him in the ribs, a particularly ticklish spot, and he squirmed. “Cut it out,” Killian said, giggling. “Your smell woke me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My smell?” she asked, her voice flat. “You know, from anyone else those might be fighting words.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “And far be it from me to challenge you, darling. No, I believe it may be close to time, your scent has… shifted somewhat.”

Emma let her head fall back with a groan. Motherfucker. Well, it was to be expected; it’s the normal time for her to go into heat, it was just… the worst. Though, having a mate would make it exponentially easier than previous years; she had that to look forward to, at least. She just hated being completely ruled by her hormones, hated having so little control over her own body. And of course Killian would be the first to pick up on it, of course he’d know her so well that he’d pick up on even the slightest change in her scent. Idly, she wondered if he could tell because he’d smelled her in full-blown heat before, but in truth she believed he’d know any changes in her body and her scent almost before she did.

Puts the kibosh on any cutesy surprise things whenever we get around to having pups , she thought wryly.

“Judging by your enthusiastic response, you’re still unhappy about the prospect,” Killian remarked.

She sighed. “It’s not that. I love nothing more than using you as my personal sex toy, I just… hate everything else about it.”

“We could try a last-minute honeymoon,” he suggested. “We did talk about going somewhere this spring.”

“It’ll be wicked expensive, not to mention both of our bosses would kill us for leaving so last minute. And don’t even try to tell me Liam would be understanding, he’d find something to harp at you about.”

“Technically I’m my own boss.”

“Yes, but what captain leaves the helm to go fuck his wife silly for a week?”

His teeth flash in a grin that sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure plenty do, particularly when the captain’s wife is as beautiful and alluring as you. And I do have minions to keep things running, you know I don’t do everything right?”

“You have to stop calling your officers ‘minions’.”

“I pay their salaries, I can call them what I like. Besides, which is less of a mouthful, Chief Operating Officer or minion?”

“Coming from the man who takes an hour to tell a five minute story.”

His grin widened. “One of the many charms you love about me.” She rolled her eyes and the bed shifted as Killian reached for his phone, which pinged a reminder that he had a missed call and a voicemail. “Though I could have reason for it, seeing as how one of them called at a most inopportune time.”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth as he listened to the message, the tinny voice reaching her ears perfectly as questions even she knew could have waited a few hours were relayed. If he was right, and it was reasonable to assume he was, then it would be easier to just combine the honeymoon and her week in heat. It was extremely annoying that there wasn’t any way to really tell when her body would go into heat, outside of paying attention to signs like any subtle changes in scent, and they couldn’t have planned this ages in advance. The thought of paying all the last minute booking fees made her skin crawl, but she also knew he wouldn’t suggest such a thing if it wasn’t feasible.

Marrying up a couple of tax brackets was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Killian tossed his phone back on the bedside table, muttering darkly to himself, and she settled against him again. “How about this,” she started, “we take today to make sure a quick getaway isn’t going to be a problem, and then go in a couple of weeks? I don’t think it’s going to happen in the next few days and we need some time to get our shit together.”

“Eloquent as always, Swan,” he said. “And the full moon is next week, so we should schedule around that as well.”

Remembering that gave her another sense of relief: for some reason, it wasn’t common for their kind to go into heat the week of the full moon. Some did, but it was extremely rare, and always led to complications with the litter. She thought it might have something to do with how her monthly shifting stopped when she’d been pregnant before, nature realizing that changing forms while pregnant wasn’t good for the mother or the fetus, but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask about that. Again, something else that the more scientific-minded of their community were studying, but it was difficult.

And it wasn’t like there was The Scientific Werewolf Monthly to publish any of that research.

Maybe there should be.

“Well, that settles that,” she said, her mood buoyed by the lunar calendar. “We’ll go in a couple of weeks. Plunk me on a beach somewhere that’s not Boston in winter and I’ll be set.”

Killian’s expression was a thrilling mix of joy and sin. “Then I’d better make sure it’s a private beach, because I have no plans of letting you wear anything more than a bikini the whole time we’re gone,” he said, shifting to loom over her as he spoke, the last words breathed against her lips before he caught hers up in another kiss.

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

The wave of pleasure that had been building inside finally crashed over her, sending ripples up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She sighed, sated for the time being and pushed away the latest of her spent toys, reclining back on the silk maroon sheets to watch as he took his leave from her bed. They all knew the drill, the men lurking in wait for her summons; she hated for them to linger, but she did indulge in the view as they stumbled away from her room.

For now, though, Regina was tired. That was the third one today, and it was barely noon on the first morning of her heat. She rolled her head on her neck, as much as she was able, joints cracking and muscles stretching. She wasn’t a young pup anymore, as difficult as it was to admit some days, so while being ravished three times by three different, handsome young things in one morning certainly sounded like an ideal way to spend one’s time, it was proving to take a toll on her.

She didn’t like to think too much about what that would mean.

She didn’t care for the reminders, the lines at the corners of her eyes getting a little deeper if she looked too long, the silver strands she kept carefully colored, and now her body tiring a little sooner than it had the year before.

Any slip might give rise to rumors, and rumors often lead to those same men lurking downstairs foolish ideas about power.

No, for now she would rest a bit, take lunch, and assess what else she could do to keep her hand on their leashes until just the right moment.

Her phone rang midway through lunch. Annoyed, Regina answered in her usual, clipped way. “This had better be important.”

- She’s leaving town for a week, her and that British wolf of hers. My sources say it’s probably their honeymoon, but we have to remember the season. If she comes back pupped-- -

“I can make my own conclusions, thank you Sidney,” she snapped, her mood darkening. “Keep tabs on them if you can, and the Nolans. We may have to move faster than anticipated.”

She hung up before he could agree to anything -- it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to agree. He just had to follow orders.

She sat still for a moment, staring at her plate, then moved suddenly, throwing her tablet against the wall. The news that Emma Swan, previous heir apparent to the pack she now ruled, had taken another mate after all the work she’d done to destroy that last relationship had sent her into a rage that kept her people on their toes for weeks. She didn’t need any reason to allow support of any kind for that little bitch to rise, and a newly mated pair with a fresh litter on the way would definitely give reason for people to remember and feel sympathy for the girl. To start rumors or petitions to restore her place.

To revolt.

She’d put in too much work expanding, improving, and keeping her pack in line to let the memory of the old alphas resurface.

Snarling, Regina got to her feet. Rage mixed with arousal, the need to take control of something overpowering anything else, and she pressed the intercom that would summon another one of her playthings to the bedroom.

She hoped he had stamina, though she didn’t quite care if she ended up breaking him in the end. He was easily replaced, just as all the others were.

She was in control here. Not them. Not any of the hotheads she dealt with on a regular basis.

And never, never Emma Swan.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs smut #cs fluff #amanda writes #cssns #oh god it's been so fucking long #please yell at me in reviews it will help me move faster

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blissfulparker · 3 years

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Seasick pt. 10 final→college!peter parker

Pairings→college!peter x reader fake dating!au

Summary→ You need a fake boyfriend, peter has no plans for the summer, you take him on a cruise to meet your nasty family you kept a secret all these years. Faking your love as far as it will go before it snaps and it shows it’s true colors to one another under the burning hot sun and above the salty sea water

A/n→yeah so y’all can shut talk me for this taking literally FOREVER but I kept wanting to redo it and I finally found the perfect final for it(at least for me) I’m going to make the epilogue and if anyone wants blurbs based off it I can write it. But I present to you, the seasick final

Peter Parker slept like an Angel and you had never truly noticed until now. He had soft snores and little freckles painted on his face and he was yours, now he was officially yours and all it took was you begging him to come on a stupid cruise with your family you hate.

Although you wouldn’t mind if year after year you were able to bring peter along with you. He helped with the pain and god did you need all the help you could get.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles as he starts to wake up, not opening his eyes but his senses catch you staring.

“Nothing.” You smile as you only stare harder to count each freckle—even the new ones he got from this trip.

“No you’re doing something.” He opens his eyes just a bit to see you with the faintest smile on your face. You, the one who woke up every day of this trip dreading what another day would be like, smiled at him. A genuine smile as you woke up.

“Seriously, nothing!” You try to hide the smile that grows big on your face and he only grabs you by the waist, pulling you in close so he can tickle at your sides just to see you smile more.

He lets your laughs die down, seeing the real you in the morning was something so fresh to him, he loved it. You were his girlfriend. He couldn’t wait to go home and start saying that to people. After all these years all it took was a stupid cruise.

“It’s our last day.” Peter says and suddenly your smile dropped. Not because you were sad, because it was your last day and that meant having to spend it with your family.

“Right.” You sigh falling back on the pillow.

Peter looked at you like you were art, or maybe he looked at you the way he looked at the beach the other day, maybe he looked at you the way he saw you in the art gallery the second day or maybe he looked at you the way he looked at you the first day he got on this damn ship and you wore the most beautiful dress and worried about how tall you were. No matter how he looked at you it was just you, you who matter the most to him in this moment and truly every moment before.

“For as much as you hate this family, I actually kinda liked this trip.” That was particularly true, he hated being uncomfortable at dinner and your mom dropping off condoms but he was on a cruise for fucks sake and it was free.

“Peter, when was the last time you even had a vacation?” You looked over at him. Realizing your words were much harsher, you took a step back. “Sorry, I’m still...I’m still trying to get use to everything.” You admitted and he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he only planted a kiss on your cheek before sitting up. “I know.”

He sits up at the edge of the bed. Stretching a bit giving you a full view of his bare back, so toned and smooth, you really wanted to know when he got so ripped but that was a question for later. All you could do now was feel your hand move to run over the smooth of his back. You sit up as well, letting yourself sit before his back and press sweet kisses gently at his shoulders.

“Y-Your mom.” Was what he said as you kissed him. “She wants to have lunch.” He already saw the messages, last night when you were fast asleep. Face puffy from crying, he held onto you but his phone lit up with one message from your mom. The number she got from him at the beginning of this trip where you swore it would make everything more realistic to pretend you cared.

“Just tell her we’re busy.” You continue kissing at his sunburnt shoulders and in a way it hurt but felt so good to him.

He couldn’t change anything, what you had grown up with was irreversible. But peter had seen the real you, known the real you to be beyond what your family was. He knew you would be opposed to what he was going to tell you but he only wanted to help you.

“With just me.” He turned his head and you stopped your movements.

“Just you?” You furrow your brows and he nodded.

“Yeah, just me.” He sighed and you sat back a bit on the bed.

“Just tell her we already have—“ you started but peter shook his head.

“I think I should go. I-I know I can’t change anything but at least I can—“ he starts and you feel your heart race and your blood burn.

“You're right Peter, you can’t change anything. She’s an evil woman and I thought you would already have figured that out by now. Your smart, you should be smart enough to know that she doesn’t want to fix anything. When we go back in New York everything will be the same.” You fell back against the headboard and peter turned fully to you.

“But everything won’t be the same, at least we won’t be the same!” He told you and you looked at him quickly with a sigh.

“Peter I didn’t mean that way and you know it.” You feel your hands run over your face before you grab your water.

“I’m having lunch with your mother.” He said. He marked his words in the moment and you knew Peter could be stubborn and this was one of those moments.

“Peter…” you want to fight but your hand goes over the bracelet you both got the other day from the locals down by the beach. You remember as a kid, you wished one day it would be you getting those bracelets even if it was just a few pieces of string tied together. Those kids were always harmless and knew love when they saw it, maybe you and peter were still faking it in the moment but they saw more than the two of you ever did. “Just hold me.” You almost whisper and he looks at you with pain in his eyes.

“Hold me like you did in the ocean the other day.” You look up with water in your eyes and he does. His arms come around your back and he holds you as if you two were still in the ocean as if nothing else mattered in the world to you two.

You dressed Peter for lunch. You had torn apart his suitcase telling him that if he was going out there alone he needed to be prepared. For it was your mother, One may argue Thor’s evil brother was nicer than her.

So Peter tugged a bit at the buttons and waited near the entrance for your mother to arrive. He had fought aliens, witches, and even drones over one summer but feared a tiny old women who was the mother of his girlfriend.

When she arrived she greeted him with a hug, a tight one that made him gasp for air when she pulled away and she left her glossy lip print on his cheek.

Peter wished you were here, honestly he did. Your mother was beautiful on the outside but he did see the inside. So when she ordered him a wine he swallowed hard and gave a tight lipped smile thinking of what you would do.

“Thank you for inviting me on this trip.” He started it off and your mother only drank from the glass of her wine.

“We can all thank (y/n) for inviting you.” She smiled but she knew something more. “When you two first arrived I always found it interesting how she told me a different story on the phone for how you fell in love but Europe huh? She loved that trip, until of course everything turned bad.” Your mother explained and Peter felt his heart flip.

“She says senior year chem class and I say Europe, she counts from when we first started talking I count our first date.” Peter chuckles.

“Peter, I’m a lawyer, I know when even the best liars are lying to me and you and my daughter are both extremely intelligent. So let’s just tell the truth, why did she invite you? Why did she tell me she had a boyfriend on the phone? I see you two do have something but it’s almost like you don’t want it, neither of you.” She for once had a soft voice. Peter for once drank alcohol on this trip to sooth his nerves but sadly the spider venom in his blood prevented him from ever being calm.

“I-we-“ he couldn’t think of anything else, he could only think of you sitting back at the hotel laying in the bath enjoying the last moments on this trip with someone you actually loved. “She loves you a lot.” He said flatly.

“Look,” he started. “Everything she has ever done in her entire life was to impress you. Every award, every medal, every achievement she’s made was in hopes to impress you weather it was through her intelligence or through how athletic she was and now it was through love. It was like i was her last hope, but you missed out so much on her life. I say that in the best way. MJ, Betty, Ned and I all showed her what it’s like to be loved and maybe that’s why she ran to us more but she also knew it was never enough for you. I had never seen her so scared, so alone when she brought me on this trip. And I don’t know if it’s just me but she’s already the perfect person in every single way. She doesn’t know what more you want, I don’t know what more you want.” Peter finished his rant, his heart pounding and his cheeks a bit red.

“For me? Everything she had ever done was for me?” Your mother asked as if she learnt this for the first time.

“Yes, and every time you never paid attention and that broke her a bit more.” The more peter talked the more Peter hurt.

“Peter, can I tell you something?” She folded her hands and leant in. “You’re a smart, charming man. My daughter is a smart and charming lady. I don’t know if this entire time you two were really faking it, I could tell at first, trust me everyone could, but I want you to know she never smiled this much on this trip ever. And I don’t know what I’m doing so wrong when I try—“ peter felt his blood boil a bit at the last sentence.

“Be her mother, not her best friend. She wants a mother. She has MJ as a best friend who sometimes acts like more of a mother to her than you and (y/n) is three months older than MJ.” Peter didn’t break the stare as your mom looked at him in shock.

“All I want, because she will hate me more if I argue, is that you make her happy.” She sighed. Peter nodded.

The two of them are in silence, the last day on the cruise and peter was eating in silence with your mother after practically telling her how shitty she was.

After the check and your mothers hug goodbye, peter was back walking up to your room. Hoping he wouldn’t see anything more as he just wanted to relax. Maybe today he’d finally get that mug for May that he lied about but god felt so guilty. He lied about bigger things but the ones he loved...he had no idea how you did it. But you never lied to Peter, keeping him from the truth and lying were different.

“And he’s a really good kisser…” he stopped before he opened the door. He could hear you giggling on the phone with who he assumed MJ and Betty but more likely Betty.

“I just...I don’t know if I deserve him, I mean...he’s so kind and sweet and he’s peter.” There was a pause as Peter listened. “No flaws, he’s a shitty painter but I think it’s cute.” You giggled before taking a deep breath. He couldn’t hear the words on the other side before he heard you speak your goodbyes and ‘I love yous’ to them.

He waits until you seem to be settled down, he opens the door and reveals you on the floor painting your toes.

“Hey,” you look up at him with a smile. “How was lunch with my mom?” You asked and he only shrugged. Something washed over him and compelled him to sit next to you and kiss your cheek.

“Was fine, I drank a lot of wine but it was fine.” He shrugged and you looked up with a smirk.

“So I’m getting drunk Peter right now?” You teased and he shook his head.

“No, no.” He watched as you painted with the color blue. “She said she’s proud of you.” He admits. Never directly did she say the words but he knew deep down she wanted to but didn’t know how.

You look at him with a stare, knowing he was lying but he was trying for you.

With the silence in the room, peter gets up from his spot and walks over to pack some of the last of his things. By tomorrow morning you would say your goodbyes to your family and head back to New York. Back to your friends and family. You would stay with MJ for the summer but hopefully, with the new relationship, peter could convince you to stay with him and May.

“Hey Peter,” you look over your shoulder. “Thank you.” You tell him. Not sure if you ever told him thank you before this.

“For what?” He folds some of his clothes and puts them back into the suitcase.

“For everything.” You smile before going back to painting your toes.

Peter has a small smile. He nods as he throws the shirt into the suitcase.

“(Y/n)?” He calls to you this time. “Thank you for choosing me. To bring on this trip I mean.” He says awkwardly and you smiled.

“This was just year one Parker, get ready for the next couple ones!” You pretend to be enthusiastic but he only laughs. “Sorry we never got to do anything you wanted to do.” You apologized as you stood up. Looking down at the red painted toes and being careful to let them dry.

“No we did.” He smiled and you furrow your brows.

“Like what?”

“I was with you, that was something I wanted to do.” He was a dork in the best ways. He was your dork in the best of ways. You don’t think you had given this many genuine smiles while on this cruise ever.

“Hey,” you poked his shoulder. He hissed a bit as his sunburn still was there. “We can technically go to the couples pool, they’ll give us free chocolate strawberries. You wanna go?” You offer with a smirk. With all the things you’ve done pretending to be a couple this would be the first real couple thing you did.

“Hell yeah!” He says with a laugh and you do too.

So you get on your bathing suits one last time. One last time on this damned cruise would you put on your bathing suit and actually smile. Not drinking the last of your night away alone in your room.

Peter's arm snaked around your waist as you two walked down the hallway. Sharing laughs and you leaning against his shoulder as you two made your way to the pool where you would sit in a hot tube while eating cheap chocolate strawberries and drinking shitty wine.

While the bubbles roam around you in the hot tub and you and peter finally settle down with your laughs he only stares into your eyes.

“Hey.” Was all he said and you felt yourself feeling shy in front of him.

“Hi.” You said back and his lips connected with yours.

For a week straight of lying, tears and alcohol, and a shit ton of secrets getting exposed to each other. You and Peter made a pretty good couple. A couple that didn’t need to be faked anymore even if it made everyone sick, you found your love in the sea. You found him and he was perfect.

Seasick Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @itscaminow @just-a-little bit-of-everything @illicitparker @hotel-colson @peterparker2003 @silver-winter-wolf @mskathrinak @teen—marvel @teenwishes08 @rish0217 @j2supernatural@hollandprkr @applenter @p-nutbutters @popluckbih @homshufflepuff @hurricane-abigail @thechersupramacy @danicarosaline e @spideyyeet @lulueliot24

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#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fic #peter parker au #college!peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #imagine peter parker

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

Ooh! I just discovered you from the Bad Things Happen Bingo and I love your writing already! Could I potentially request the Bleeding Out prompt as a prequel for the Soup for the Sick story you wrote?

Thank you for the ask! I had to look up prequel to make sure that you meant before the events of Personalized Caretaker Part 1, and not after 😂. Here you go! In reference to this post.

So, with that note, this piece happened before Part 1 of Personalized Caretaker.

Personalized Caretaker Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: blood, vomit, losing consciousness, faking an injury, drugged whumpee, fear, implied touch starvation

*not edited*

Civilian hopped onto her couch, legs resting on the armrest and flicked on the television, going straight for Netflix.

It was a normal day, serene and tranquil with the perfect amount of work that made Civilian feel good inside.

She lazily gnawed on a piece of beef jerky and selected The Kissing Booth for personal enjoyment. Something cheesy and romantic to vibe to as she decompressed- even the best days required a period of relaxation.

But, her period of relaxation was very rudely interrupted by a thud. Right outside her door.

Civilian froze, heart racing, as her mind involuntarily replayed every known horror movie. She was the victim, the bad guy was going to break in and slash her throat as she unceremoniously says, "Who's there?"

Civilian shuddered, turning off the television, and slowly standing up. She grabbed her remote control as a weapon and very, very slowly, like a ninja, stalked stealthily up to the door.

"Who's there?" Civilian asked. Crap, her fatal flaw. Now the bad guy was going to rush out and murder her, then the police would come and there would be ten more killings and then there would be a ghost that was a moaning lady with pale skin and black hair that was hung in the woods seventy-some years ago and then it is reincarnated to be a doll that haunts children and-

Civilian drew in a deep breath. Don't freak out, don't freak out. It was probably a bird that weighed the size of a man- a bad man- that crashed into the window and died. And died. And died. And died. It was gone. Instead of using a remote, she should be using a plastic bag.

"Stop it Civilian, you paranoid freak," she yelled at herself, very loudly, her voive taut with utter fear as she peered through the shades.

The first thing she saw was blood.

Smeared blood in the direction of downwards, leading directly to...

A body.

Civilian felt nausea rise in her throat as literally the blood drained from her face. She wasn't the first victim, the poor human in opening credits, she was the next victim and her house was the killer's stash.

Probably to blame her for the death. To redirect the suspicion.

She had to hide the body and burn it before the cops came. Oh boy, the killer probably already called them. Crap crap crap.

Civilian whisked the door open, tossing her grand weapon of plastic and onto a nearby table, and prepared to wrap the body in a black bag.

The body moved.

Civilian screamed.

The body was not a body, it was a living man.

"Oh my gosh sir? Sir! Are you okay? Sir! Sir!" Civilian grabbed her hair and started to paced. "This can't be happening. This can't be happening. There is a bleeding man on my fricking doorstep." She started to ramble, muttering nonsensical curses and words that weren't going to help the dying man.

She was panicking, completely hyperventilating, by the time the man moved more than a shaky, uneven breath.

His eyes opened, revealing a drop-dead gorgeous icy blue. Eyelashes fluttered in the most enearding way as the man struggled to keep his consciousness to himself. Lips quivered as he whole face bunched together in an expression of pain.

Civilian didn't know if she could handle it.

"Are you doing to die?" She asked, rushed and abruptly. The man looked his clouded gaze on her. It took a moment, but he spoke,

"Heroes. Heroes, they are coming. Run, get outta here. Get outta here!"

Civilian shrieked, glancing hurriedly around. An insane plot twist, the good guys were the bad guys and...

Wait, this wasn't a movie.

And why was this man so scared of the heroes? Unless, of course, he was...

A villain.

Civilian covered her mouth and dropped to her knees. A v-v-villain? Was at her door? Civilian pinched herself to see if she was sleeping, but the nightmare didn't vanish. She was stuck in reality. Someone go get her a soda...

Villain's eyelids drooped as he weakly extended his arm. "Please," he begged. "I need help." Then his arm went slack.

Civilian was close to hysterics.

But nonetheless, out of fear, she grabbed the man's arm and attempted to pull him inside. She silently cursed. Her twigs for limbs could barely carry a box of mason jars; what made her think she could drag a two hundred pound full-grown adult male?

It was a taxing project that left Civilian in tangled limps, just begging for sleep. The man didn't stir at all, not even when Civilian's fist went into the gaping wound in his stomach.

Aw man, that was disgusting. Civilian vomited into a nearby trashcan before returning to figure out WHAT THE HECK TO DO!!!

"Can you wake up?" Civilian asked. "Please? I-i... how do I... how do I do this?"

Civilian was on the verge of tears, but then she reminded herself. This isn't a movie, he won't be miraculously healed after a good night's sleep.

With a quick reference to Google, Civilian finally felt prepared. She ran to get a pillow and slipped it under Villain's head. His eyelids fluttered as his eyes cracked open, but then they slipped close again.

Next she removed his shirt and was quite awestruck at the sight. Other than the painted crimson, his abdomen really was the definition of ab-domen. Hard muscles were lined perfectly.

Okay Civilian, someone is dying, don't admire it.

She placed one hand above and the other in the wound to staunch the bleeding. After the blood flow slowed, she lifted his legs to rest on the armrests in a similar position that she was in earlier.

Next, she jumped some hydrogen peroxide in and bandaged the wound. The villain never awoke.

Once the looming danger was gone, Civilian just stood there awkwardly. Dried blood crusted on his skin, but at least it wasn't wet.

So she stood there, arms crossed as meaningless thoughts rushed through her head.

What do call a male ladybug?

Is grass the earth's hair?

Do pineapples come from pine trees?

Why is a villain on my couch?

Civilian sat down, keeping a good three feet distance from the assumed murderer, and turned on the TV to resume her movie.

She leaned her head back, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, but she refused sleep. Especially when a villain was slumbering next to her with one arm over his face.

He looked like a monkey.

One of those pale faced, brown haired primates from Curious George.

Not that his ears were splayed out or anything, the monkey had very tiny, collected ears that hid under his fluffy brown hair. His nose also held that itty-bitty appearance, perfectly formed to his face with the faintest trace of freckles.

He was cute.

Like a monkey.

Or not, as Civilian found monkeys utterly disgusting.

So cute, like a kitten.

Civilian smiled, looking down at her lap. Another thing Wikihow said that Civilian scowled at and ignored before. Put the victim's head in your lap to calm and keep them comfortable.

It wouldn't hurt, right? The villain wasn't even conscious, and he lost so much blood that he probably wouldn't remember anything if he did wake up.

She just met him.

Stress can increase heart rate which may be detrimental. Civilian scrunched her forehead. Was that even true?

Who cares. Civilian scotted her skinny self over and laid the villain's head in her lap. Then, temptation started its charismatic monologue.

Stroke his head. Be nice, clean his chin. Wipe the dirt off his eye.

Civilian hesitantly put her hand on his grimey hair- ew, he needed a shower ASAP- and gingerly patted it. Patted it, like petting a dog.

It was embarrassingly awkward.

For the next few hours, Villain slept. Civilian also dozed off between getting yummy smelling candles to fend off the revolting scent od blood and crackers to aimlessly gnaw on.

She watched through the first Kissing Booth and the second one when a thought struck her.

Pain.

The villain would be in pain when he woke up.

And the only thing Civilian had was Ibuprofen.

Like those barely took the edge off a headache, much less a gash the size of a baseball.

She reached for her phone to call her friend at the local drug store. Putting on a squeaky voice, Civilian said,

"Can you, uh, get me something for pain?"

"Slow down, Civilian. What?"

"I don't know benadryl or a very strong pain reliever," Civilian bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. Stupid stupid stupid...

"What did you do?"

"I, uh, sprained my ankle."

"You sprained your ankle?"

"Mhm hurts like-"

"Okay! I don't need your swear word dictionary. I'll bring you something after work."

"Thanks, oh owowowowowowo."

"Goodbye Civilian."

The line clicked.

Civilian smiled to herself and popped another cracker in her mouth. Problem solved.

The blood on the door.

Crap.

Civilian set Villain's head back on a pillow and ran to the frontdoor.

Great, just great.

Civilian flipped the middle finger at Villain's sleeping figure and walked out the door. She would meet her friend before she saw the splatters of blood.

Civilian sat herself on the curb, throwing her newly "spraind" leg out, letting out an insanely loud groan, and leaned back on her elbows.

"Oh my goodness! Civilian," her friend leaped from her black car and ran over. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Civilian waved it off. "Just wanted some air and the house is a mess, so."

Civilian, you are dumb.

"You sure? You asked to be hospitalized once because you stubbed your toe and the fact that a sprained ankle isn't bugging you... I am wholeheartedly worried."

"Don't be," Civilian chuckled. "How was work?"

Friend gave her a skeptical look. "Fine," she drawled.

"Good," Civilian nodded slowly, tapping the ground with her fingers. "So thank you for the painkillers."

"Mhm," Friend handed Civilian the plastic bag slowly. "How did you sprain it?"

"Uhhh fell out of the shower."

Friend looked genuinely concerned.

"Tripped and fell," Civilian repeated herself awkwardly. "On the ground?" Why did she have to say it as a question?

She was awkward and sounded hilariously awkward as well.

"Klutz," Friend joked, but her face was still taut with worry. "Need help getting inside?"

"No no!" Civilian exclaimed. Friend stepped back, so Civilian laughed to alleviate the tension. "I should walk it out."

"Ooookay," Friend said, nodding. "Good for you. I'm gonna go. I have a dinner date with this dude from Tinder."

"Oooo good luck," Civilian said, faking a wince as she stood up. Friend rushed in to help.

"Don't," Civilian cautioned, raising her "hurt" leg up. Friend looked at it and scowled.

"Dang leg huh? Well bye-bye. Don't fall out of the shower anymore. Got it?"

"Yup," Civilian said and fake limped back to her house as Friend sped away.

Missiom accomplished.

Villain was stirring when Civilian sat back down.

Perfect timing also.

She rummaged through the bag and grabbed a bottle of valium. She popped the recommended dosage out and approached Villain.

He was still too dazed and disoriented to stop Civilian from helping him swallow, but the second the water touched his tongue, he woke up fully.

"What are you doing? Don't touch me!" He yelled, pulling away. Civilian also backed away, a frown forming on her face.

"Me? I saved your life."

Villain was silent. "How much did you touch me?"

"Enough to save your life."

Villain jerked, looking around as if somone was in the shadows. Paranoid, Civilian copied him.

"What's wrong with you?" Civilian asked.

"You touched me?"

Civilian didn't say anything. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg, examining the villain.

Villain jerked to his feet, swaying madly. Civilian's heart jumped. He was so unsteady...

He fell, but Civilian swooped in to catch him.

For a moment, the villain melted into her half-embrace, head resting gently on her shoulder, before pulling away. He bit his cheeks, seemingly trying to keep tears back.

"What... are you? Are, are you scared of getting a hug? Sheesh."

"Mmm no," Villain shook his head quickly, then sat down as if the feat made him dizzy.

"Mmm yes," Civilian sat down next to him. The villain looked confused, but that may be the drugs kicking in.

Soon Villain's eyes starting to droop and he swayed in his sitting position.

"Whatdya give me?" He slurred, a faraway look in his eyes. "Mm tired." He collapsed forward.

Civilian steadied him and helped him lay back down. He groaned pathetically and grappled at Civilian's hand, desperate to hold it.

He held her hand until he fell asleep.

#bad things happen bingo #villain whumpee #villain x civilian #civilian caretaker #blood tw #drugged villain #writing #whump #i'm sorry this took so long #i have to embrace civilians personality first

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ramzawrites · 3 years

Text

Correcting A Mistake - Dad!Schlatt and Reader

Pairings: none

Characters included: Dream, Awesamdude, (mentioned) Schlatt

Warnings: talk of dead characters, small talk of abandonment

Series: A small drabble :]

Summary: Y/N had enough with the people of the SMP. It was time to visit Dream to make a deal.

Word count: 1074

“Listen, I have a book, a book Schlatt gave me, that told me how resurrection works. I can revive people!”

Dream’s words continued to echo inside Y/N’s head even days after Dream got incarcerated. Sure, he might have just said that so Tommy wouldn’t kill him but if there was even a tiny chance that he spoke the truth then Y/N had to grab it.

That is why they were currently staring at a wall of lava in front of them. It was hot, so hot they were almost afraid it would singe off their eyebrows then and there. Sweat was running down the side of their head, a mixture of heat and nervousness causing it.

Behind the lava was Dream waiting.

Honestly Y/N has never really talked with Dream. They mostly spent time in Manburg and Dream didn’t seem to spend a lot of time there. He was seen here and there around the place but really talking with him? Never. This would be the first time.

To them Dream seemed always like a wildcard. He loved chaos but also loved to have absolute control over that chaos so it was hard to estimate what Dream was thinking or how he would react. They mentally chastised themself as they wondered what Dream was thinking of them. What was his opinion of them?

Suddenly Y/N could see the top of the falling lava as it slowly ran down, giving them their first free view of Dream in his prison cell. He was standing towards the opening. His mask slightly askew but still covering his whole face. They hated how this mask made it even harder to read his emotions or intentions.

“Step on the platform. It will bring you over the other side.” Sam suddenly appeared in the room again. His voice stern and cold.

Y/N gave him a small nod and stepped on the stone platform. Without warning it begun moving forward. Getting closer and closer towards Dream who was waiting for them behind a small netherite wall. Their heart beating fast.

Clenching their hands into fists they tried to calm themself trying to concentrate on their goal. No sense in being nervous or even afraid. He couldn’t do anything in there.

The platform arrived at the other side and Y/N stepped off. It immediately begun moving back. A click and suddenly they saw how the lava begun reappearing. They were effectively alone with Dream who was standing a bit further off behind the small wall.

When the lava wall was back down the netherite wall fell down into the ground with another click.

Dream rolled his head around on his shoulders, rubbing his neck “Well, I didn’t expect you to visit. Though then again I could think of a reason why.”

Y/N didn’t answer. They just stared at Dream for a moment before taking the time to get a good look at his cell. He only had a few things in here. Honestly it was kind of pitiful.

They let out a breath “Good if you know why I’m here, let’s get to business.”

It surprised them that Dream didn’t immediately jump at this opportunity but instead he seemed to size them up “You want to revive you father.” He sounded surprised?

They glared at him “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“It’s just, the people seem to like you, they will certainly be angry with you should you bring Schlatt back. After all you could argue that everything is the way it is because of him.”

Y/N grabbed the tie they had wrapped around their throat. Their fathers tie.

“If they like me they wouldn’t have dropped me as soon as dad died. I was only good when I could give them intel. I just wanted to stop dad’s madness but-“

Dream interrupted “Now he is dead and you want me to revive him. I understand. I just want to make sure you know that with this you will probably become one of the most hated people in the SMP.”

“I don’t care! In the end dad was right the others didn’t care about me so I need to correct my mistakes. Just tell me what you need Dream! I’m not here to talk philosophy and about broken friendships!” Y/N snarled. Their expression full with anger. They made up their mind a while ago “Just tell me what you want in exchange for reviving my dad.”

Again Dream was just staring at them. Y/N was grinding their teeth. They just wanted to get this over with and it was an unnerving feeling knowing that Dream held all the power in this conversation.

He let out a deep breath “Hm. I think I like the idea of that actually. Sure. I will revive your father on one condition.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. Holding their breath, waiting for the prize to pay. Before coming here they made up their mind that whatever it is, there couldn’t be a prize high enough to revive someone.

Dream shoved his mask to the side showing off his freckles, scar and his green eyes with dark circles underneath. He acted pretty self-confident right now but Y/N could tell the days in the prison took their toll on him.

Either way he still looked dead serious as he spoke “Help me break out of prison.”

Their heart sank and a shiver ran down their spine “But that is impossible.”

“Just like how it is impossible to revive people? You will find a way if you are serious about this.”

Y/N bit their lip. They aren’t a good fighter nor are they a strategical genius like others in the SMP. How the hell were they supposed to do this? The only thing they had going for them was that they could move around the place without looking too suspicious since most people were busy with their own projects and seemingly liked to ignore them.

Then again Dream was right. If they really wanted this, they will find a way. They had time on their side as it stood right now which was another saving grace. It was clear from the beginning this wouldn’t be an easy endeavor and what would it say about them if they gave up now. The thought didn’t sit right with them.

Y/N held their hand out to Dream who took theirs in his. As they shook hands Y/N looked Dream dead in the eyes.

“Deal.”

#mcyt x Y/N #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #reader insert #jschlatt fanfic #dreamwastaken fanfic #jschlatt #dreamwastaken #awesamdude fanfic #awesamdude #ramza writes

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kiirokero · 3 years

Text

Outro: Love Is Not Over (1)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Don’t know if this counts but mentions of accidental pregnancies and shitty men.

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

Previous / Next

“Congratulations! It’s a boy.”

“I-Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s very healthy. Do you have a name in mind?”

“Yunho.”

“A very nice name.”

“Oh, he’s beautiful.”

“That he is. I apologize for asking, but you haven’t listed the father on his birth certificate yet.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“You’re aware what that means, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, Ms. L/n, I’ll leave you be now. Press the button if you need assistance. A midwife will be coming to see you shortly.”

“Eomma, wake up!” A giggly voice called. The bed was bouncing up and down, pulling me out of my slumber. I couldn’t help but laugh along. “All right, Yunnie, I’m up.” Yunho chuckled and lent down to give me my morning hug. “Good morning, Eomma.” He sighed, his fluffy blonde tail wagging in content. “Good morning, lovely. Did you sleep well?” I wrapped my arms around him, bringing him in for a snuggle. “Yes! I had a dream about giant squirrels!” He exclaimed. I let out an exaggerated gasp, “You did?! That’s awesome.”

Yunho wiggled out of my grasp and bounded towards my bedroom door. “Come on, Eomma! I’m hungry.” I chuckled and got out of bed. “Alright, waffles or toast?” I asked while I grabbed my sweatshirt, pulling it on. “Waffles!” Yunho answered, racing downstairs to the living room. I smiled to myself, I couldn’t help the warmth in my heart every time I saw my son.

Yunho had short hair that matched mine in color. He also had my eyes. I could see little pieces of myself in his face and it always made me smile. I didn’t pay attention to the features he and his father shared, even if they weren’t many. The most prominent feature they shared being his ears and tail, but somehow, Yunho made them uniquely his.

He never like getting his fur cut, would always sulk about it afterwards, he likes to keep the fur on his tail long so either him or I could braid it. He thought braids were so pretty, so he would ask me to braid all of his hair, and eventually, he learned himself. His fur on his ears was less long because of my insistence that having heavy ears would impair his ability to lift them. He could lift his left ear, but not the right one. He’s been working on that.

So, even if he was his father's child, he was still just Yunho to me. That man didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Yunho has his button nose or freckles. It didn’t matter because Yunho was Yunho, and Yunho was the light of my life. He would run around the house non stop, bring me little rocks he found in the yard, draw pictures that had a special place on the fridge. Yunho was sunshine incarnate, and I couldn’t ask for a better son.

Downstairs, Yunho was sitting in front of the T.V, watching his favorite cartoon. It was about this hybrid boy and his best friend, who was human. Yunho said it was like him and I, that we were like the characters on screen, going on adventures every day. The sight made me smile yet again, and I went to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.

I could see Yunho from the kitchen since it was an open plan. Which wasn’t surprising because we lived in a small house. 2 bedrooms, 1 and 1/2 baths. It had a very large backyard that merged into woods. The area is pleasant, a little secluded, but that just gave Yunho more room to explore. The house got a lot of natural light with the large windows, and the air was always refreshing.

When I first saw the house, it was like a blessing. It was a little run down, but nothing I couldn’t handle, and it was cheap. A house being cheap should be a red flag, and it was, but it was worth it. The worst problem the house had was the hot water that ran out pretty quickly. In no way was it a luxurious mansion, but it was home, and that was all that mattered.

“Yunho! Come get your breakfast!” I called, placing his bright blue plate on the small dining room table we had. I heard his feet patter on the hardwood as he ran to the dining room. “Woah! Slow down, bub.” I chuckled. Yunho gave me a shy smile and sat down, immediately digging into his breakfast. “Is it good?” I teased, wiping away some stray syrup that threatened to end up in his hair. Yunho nodded enthusiastically, giving me a thumbs up.

We ate together with comfortable banter. Yunho was telling me about the latest episode of his cartoon, and I was more than happy to listen. The way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about something he loved was enough to make the toughest of men smile. “Eomma, can Hajun come over today?” Yunho asked in a hopeful tone. I thought about it for a bit, “I’ll call Aunt Hyejin and see if he can, okay?” Yunho brightened up and gave a little “okay!” In response.

After we were done eating, Yunho put his plate in the sink and went back to watching T.V. I washed up the dishes and dialed Hyejin’s number. “Hey babe!” She answered in her usual cheery voice. I chuckled, “Hey sis.”

In reality, Hyejin wasn’t my sis or babe, but we were close like that. Hyejin was a Siamese cat hybrid that I met back in college. We were roommates, and we just clicked immediately. We were there with each other through everything. Shitty professors, family issues, breakups, shit men that make your life a living hell. She had her son, Hajun, a bit before I had Yunho, and helped me whenever I needed.

She and her husband, Yoongi, a Persian cat hybrid, were there with me through it all. They were the family I never had. Yoongi was like an overprotective older brother, and Hyejin was no different. They even helped me find Yunho and I’s home. We normally went on family trips to amusement parks or aquariums which the boys never seemed to get bored with. We were all one big happy family.

Yoongi and Hyejin were like polar opposites. Yoongi was chill while Hyejin was a bundle of never ending energy. Yoongi was quiet Hyejin loved to talk. Yoongi was an introvert, and Hyejin constantly dragged him out to parties that Namjoon, one of our mutual friends, had mentioned to her. It was funny to witness. Especially when Yoongi begged me to go in his stead, which worked 50% of the time.

“So, what d’ya need? I’m all ears.” She snickered, and I could practically see her gray ears twitch. “Haha, hilarious. Yunnie wants to know if you guys can come over.” I answered. “Yeah, sure! We’re not doing anything today and I’ve been dying to talk to you about something.” She gushed. “Ooo, exciting.” I chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, babes. Love you!” I said I loved her back and hung up the phone.

Soon, Hyejin and Hajun arrived and the boys immediately began playing together. “Hey! So nice to see you!” Hyejin smiled, giving me a hug. “You too!” I was equally just as happy to see Hyejin since she and Yoongi had been a bit busy lately. We walked over to the living room where the boys were playing on the floor with their toys. Hyejin and I sat on the sofa and she immediately began talking.

“Okay! So, I’ve been dying to talk to you about this,” She started, already bouncing in her seat. “I can see that.” I teased, poking at her shoulder. “You know the job I was looking into? The daycare one?” She asked, and I nodded. “Well~ I got the job!” She exclaimed. My jaw dropped, a smile made its way onto my face. “No way! Congratulations!” I got up and squeezed her in a bone breaking hug, which she reciprocated.

“I know! I’m so excited!” Her tail was flicking behind her. “So, when do you start?” I asked, moving back into my seat. “Next week! I’m going to be the second teacher, helping someone named Mr. Jung.” She explained, and she went on to tell me how she got the job and how Hajun had asked if he could go, only to pout when Hyejin told him that he was too old. “I’m happy for you, Hyejin.” I smiled, excited that she was pursuing her dream of working with kids.

Hyejin, like me, got pregnant young and unexpectedly. But she was super thrilled. She didn’t care if she was only 20, she always wanted a child. She wasn’t married at that time, but Yoongi stepped up pretty quickly to raise Hajun with Hyejin. Yoongi was a cool dad, pretty laid back. Usually snuck the kids out to go get ice cream or pizza. Not that Hyejin or I minded, he treated both boys with the utmost care. He treated Yunho like his own son.

“So, have you met this Mr. Jung?” I wondered. “Not yet, but I had a phone call with him. Guess what? He’s our age.” She whispered, like what she was saying was some big secret. “Hyejin, we’re both 26, it’s not like a young teacher is unheard of.” I pointed out. “I know! But... What if he’s cute~?” She raised her eyebrows in a teasing manner, leaning closer to me. “I could be cupid.” She winked and I rolled my eyes.

“No thanks, Hyejin. I appreciate it, but love for me ended a long time ago.” I sighed and Hyejin huffed, dramatically slouching in her seat. “Y/n, just because... he... broke your heart doesn’t mean you should give up entirely.” She pointed out, looking at me with eyes full of undecipherable emotions. “Any man I date would have to be okay with being a father-like figure to Yunho. I’m 26 Hyejin, no guy my age wants kids yet.” I monotoned.

I had come to terms with the fact that most men didn’t want to date someone who already had a child. Not saying that it didn’t dishearten me a bit, but it was a revelation I made early on. If someone wanted me, they were going to want Yunho too. It either both of us, or neither of us.

Yunho was my light, and he deserved a father that could be the things I couldn’t.

#bts fic #bts one shot #jung hoseok #bts hoseok #hobi #hoseok x reader #jhope #jhope x reader #bts hybrid au #hybrid

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fvrxdrm · 3 years

Text

.•*Friends to Lovers on Holidays with Leon Kennedy*•.

Happy Single Asses’ Day!!!

Pairing: Modern!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

*****

“Cheers to us single fuckers!”

The clinking of wine glasses subtly intertwined with the voices of the actors in a horribly-done “horror” movie that was running on the television as you and Leon briefly joined them together before letting the tang of sweet, bitter, and sour wine hit your tongues. And when they did, you moaned in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

“It better not be. This shit costed, like, $100.”

Leon grabbed the wine bottle in front of him and went on to refilling yours and his glasses respectively.

“My wallet’s fucking crying,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t bullshit me now. Jack Daniel’s costs $50.00 and I don’t hear you complaining. And from what I remember you buy five of ‘em,” you retorted back hitherto taking a small sip of your drink.

“For your information I only buy one bottle now. Had the president not let us quit going on missions your statement would’ve been correct.”

It was true. Ever since the New York incident, bioterrorism had gone down and those rare times where an occurrence would go down somewhere in a small region on earth the BSAA would be sent, sometimes even bringing one of the newer DSO agents to help them with the cases. And so, with the conclusion that the count was dying at a leisure pace, the government decided there was no need for their veteran agents to be sent on missions unless they were lethal and needed someone who was as exceedingly experienced as you on the field and sanctioned both you and Leon to only do office work until further notice.

“I mean, yeah, true… Pass me the bowl?” With eyes still glued to the T.V., Leon reached out to grab ahold of the large bowl of popcorn and blindly looked for your hand until he finally felt the bottom of the bowl touch a surface, letting it go once he felt the weight shift lighter.

“This is bullshit. Who the fuck just crawls on the ground after tripping while the killer is literally right behind them? Like, fucking 5 inches away from them! I would’ve stood up and ran.”

The movie had been going for about half an hour now and Leon couldn’t be more amused at how you reacted at every scene where the characters’ brains seemingly flew out of their heads. He wasn’t paying attention to the film. He’d watch this way, way, way, way back anyway and he knew how stupid it was so he just entertained himself by listening to your rants and laughing (also getting smacked every now and then).

“Oh my god! Why the fuck does she keep screaming?”

“You know what, I wouldn’t care if he gets killed.”

“Of course, the phone just had to be dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck are you making out while a psycho is literally out there to sheesh kebab you?”

“Oh my god, I just lost my brain cells.” And so on and so forth…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Leon muttered with a smirk, popping a chip in his mouth as he turned his gaze towards the movie.

“Well, I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was one of those movies that are so bad they’re good,” you defended as you swigged the rest of the wine that filled a portion of your glass. Your friend just snickered in response, stretching his arms and legs and smiled in fulfilment once he heard the crack of aging bones and staring narrow-eyed at the credit screen in front of him.

Words became trapped inside your heads. You didn’t know what to do from here. The only thing you planned was watching a movie for Valentine’s day – or Single Asses’ day as you call it – and fight shy of anything revolving around romance whether it be some sort of song or movie or something.

You both had been unlucky when it came to romance and intimacy. The closest you had to love were some one-night stands with random strangers and even that was far away from said emotion. Your jobs were complicated and when you both had started in the agency years after the Raccoon City incident, it already began taking a toll on your heads and continued to up until the incident in New York. And so, relationships were the last thing you worried about. Though, that didn’t mean your hearts wouldn’t race every once and a while. Truth be told you caught feelings halfway through your career, both of you. You sometimes entertained the idea of you and your best friend being together while he had conflict between you and Ada. Both of you were people he couldn’t let go of but he felt like one was superior to the other and his brain scrambled around for a bit until the day he almost lost you. It was the day disease almost took over the world: Tall Oaks and China. That was the day he realized just how much you meant to him.

“So, um… I should go now. I’ll see you around.” Leon stood up from the couch and was about to head out your apartment door until he felt something warm enclose around his wrist. He turned around to find your pretty face looking sheepish and pleading – pink creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears.

“I-it’s already late and I… I don’t think you’re in the right condition to drive. You can stay here if you want.” The blush on your face darkened even more and your eyes suddenly found interest on your tiled floor, your grip around Leon loosening. Seeing as how abashed you looked right now, he playfully simpered and decided hey, I teasing is fun!😀

“You don’t think I can drive myself home while drunk? Haven’t you seen me in action back in New York?” He spoke.

All enervation and intoxication suddenly voided out of your body; eyes bulging out of their sockets as his statement caught you unwary for a second. Incoherent words stumbled out of your mouth and none were piecing together to form an acceptable response.

“I’m just playing. I get your intentions. You seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Leon finally said after a few enough rambles were pitched into the room ceaselessly.

Your shoulders sagged and the tension that rapidly built up in you were unfettered in a matter of seconds. “Jesus,” you murmured. “You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Leon continued in his bursts of loud laughter and it only made you sink into your seat even more.

“I’m sorry… You’re just so freaking cute!”

Whoops… Didn’t mean for that to come out…

Leon’s fit of hysterics died down in a trice, feeling like a twelve-year-old whose embarrassment was so immense after getting rejected and being made fun of in front of the whole school that he’d rather melt in a puddle where he can be forgotten.

“I-I’m sorry. That just…flew out of nowhere. I- “

“It’s fine. At least I’m not the only tomato here, right? And um… Thanks… For the compliment,” you said, face burning another 100°C.

“Well, uh,” Leon scratched the nape of his neck and shoved his free hand in his pockets where each of his fingers twiddled with one another, “wanna chat?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be bed anytime soon, unless you’re really tired.”

“No, I’d love for you to accompany me tonight,” he replied.

“Okay, come back here you himbo.” You patted the empty space on the couch Leon previously sat on and smiled at him once he made himself comfortable with his feet resting on your coffee table and hands finding contentment in providing itself as a pillow for his head. “So, how’s life?”

“Okay, okay…fine I’ll…haha…do it.”

A few minutes had passed, talking being the only thing you’d done up until Leon tackled and attacked you with tickles on your sides.

“You, Leon Scott Kennedy,” a giggle fell past your lips, “are…”

“Are?”

“…a fucking…idiot!” Leon fell in a daze at your words and while he was at it you took advantage of his vulnerability and shoved him down to the floor with you collapsing on top of him. Only when he felt the softness of your carpet and the hardness of your floor did he bring himself out of his stupor.

“You sneaky little shit-“ He was about to place both of his hands on your waist and flip you two over when his wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned above his head not even a second after he blinked.

“Uh uh, not so fast. You really think you could get away with this, don’t you?” A smug grin pulled the corners of your lips. Leon sighed.

“Fine, you win.”

Silence had taken over the room once more, the muffled chirping of crickets outside the closed windows the only sound filling in the missing gaps. Though the light that gave life to your apartment was dim, the distance between your faces was enough for Leon to take in every detail that defined the complexion of your face: from the lines that explicated the years and hardship you had been through, to the little dimples beside your lips that he was sure was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. From the constellation of cute freckles that flecked your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, to the pink hue that gave light to them. You were beautiful and there was no doubt it was one of the many things he admired about you. And there was also no doubt that he wasn’t afraid to voice it out while he laid flushed beneath you.

“You’re cute. You know that, right?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna be hot when I’m sixty.” You giggled at your own joke but when you saw just how awestricken your friend was by you, your smile immediately dropped and you were left flustered on top of him in diffidence and nervousness. And because of your oblivion, your hold on his wrists slackened and he took no time flipping the two of you over and switching up the roles.

“I knew you would fall for that, princess,” Leon remarked and before you could even let out a single letter, he already had his lips smashed onto yours.

A soft gasp fell from your lips but it didn’t take long for you to succumb to the feeling of his supple and slightly chapped lips.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment, and in that moment, you were in your pure and vulnerable selves.

It was slow and subtle at first, lips delicately lingering against each other for a moment of lip-lock until a relentless appetency set fire in your bodies. It became sloppy and messy and the abiding flavor that ghosted on your tongues left you wanting more and more of what you could give.

Hands set sail on plump skin and it wasn’t long until pieces of clothing slowly began replacing the space on your carpet where you once laid, Leon having carried you to sit you down on your couch.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” Leon whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, the ghost of his breath sending a delicious chill down your spine.

“I want to… Please?” And that did it for him.

He let out low growl from the depths of his throat before battering your neck with tickling kisses and bites were marks were left as graves created by the inner animal that was housed inside of his body. The brush of his skin against yours arised the short hairs that adorned your own and it didn’t help that the evening cold would tease past you in a speed that sent you shivering to your toes.

“Leon, please.”

“Please what, babe?” Leon kissed along your thighs while he looked at you through the shortness of his lashes.

“I need you, please.”

“In a minute, babe. I fucking need to taste you,” he mumbled, voice raspy with lust and desire.

You anticipated with what was bound to happen next with closed eyes and lip restrained in between teeth. However, no matter how much you prepared yourself for the feeling of his tongue touching your folds, your back still arched at the feeling and a soft moan sounded from an open mouth, hands finding home on Leon’s disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me, moan my name.” That you did. You let a string of curses unknowingly escape your lips along with his name slipping in between them as he lapped your sex with a type of hunger even he couldn’t describe for the life of him. He simply couldn’t get enough of your taste; getting you off once, twice, thrice, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him by his hair before having a sample taste of your own through his lips. And while he was busy savoring your mouth once more, you pushed him on the floor again and straddled his hips impatiently where you felt the twitch of his cock touch your pussy.

“Please, Leon. I want you. I want you so bad. I wanna feel your cock inside me, now.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Permission granted.

Your hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it a few times before lining the tip up to your entrance, pushing it down once you were sure enough that his dick would just slide in you, and you both moaned at the stretch and the tightness that surrounded him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” Leon grunted.

You let yourself give in to his astonishing size before you slowly began bouncing up and down his length, your eyelids falling close to the feeling of his dick hitting just the right spots with neither of you trying. You moved in sync together, his hips propelling into yours and gradually speeding up as indulgence replaced the throbbing of your walls at their painful expansion.

“Fuck, Leon, shit.”

This was good, painfully good, but somehow it still wasn’t enough for Leon so he decided to take control again and turned you to your back where he can finally satisfy both you and him much to your contentment. He pounded into you with so much force and the tips of his fingers dug into your skin that you were sure you were going to be sore the next day at work and bruises were going to be a part of your attire for a while. Oh, well, I’m just going to call in sick tomorrow.

“You’re taking my co – ngh – ck so good, baby girl. So – ngh – good.”

Mewls left your mouth at the sound of his broken words and a familiar tight warmth filled your stomach, your moans getting louder and louder each time Leon gave a powerful blow.

“Leon, please, please, please, I’m so close – shit!”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

After a few more thrusts, they became sloppy, you noticed, and all pent-up emotion boiled over into one strong orgasm that has you writhing and shaking in relief.

“Well, fuck. That was good,” you spoke in between heavy breathing, the blanket you took from inside your couch now covering your glistening wet bodies.

“Best sex I’ve ever had if I’m being honestly,” Leon added, chuckling despite struggling to get some air himself.

“Yeah. But seriously though,” you steadied your head in your hand and began tracing random doodles on the exposed skin of his chest as you spoke, “Is this going to be a one-time thing or…”

“Well, to be honest, I wanna go further from just being a one-night stand. You know, a real relationship and all that. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, I’ll respect that.” You could tell Leon was disheartened at the thought of him being a one-night stand only but your intention was just the same as his and now, you were sure about your decision.

“I wanna go further than this, too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Leon placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he pulled you on top of him and lulled you both into a deep slumber.

*****

Lmao this was longer than intended XD.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon+kennedy+imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #resident evil #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

Note

Jotastic?! Who suggested Eskel got the spikes on his shoulder? Was it a monster inspiring him? Or did someone suggest? Or did he see this really canon-age-punk kid and got inspired?

Pandawesome! 💕 Because the last one turned out soft, this had to turn out sad, I'm sorry!!! I hope you like it anyway...

cw: angst, mentions of trial-related trauma, (possibly) unrequited feelings

---

Nights You Don't Remember (M, ~1.6k)

Eskel sits alone at breakfast, the other trainees around him merry and joyous as they chat about the upcoming day. He doesn’t have much to add, doesn’t want to do anything else than quietly eat his porridge. He knows the masters worry about him, think he’s behind in his development, but Eskel still needs time to process all this.

Kaer Morhen.

The witchers.

His newfound future.

At six, those concepts seem rather insurmountable.

Eskel sits alone at breakfast until someone slides into the seat opposite him and catches his attention with a wave so that Eskel looks up from his spoon, wary.

"You like crafts, don't you?" the boy says, cocking his head. His hair falls in long strands of orange-red so bright Eskel has a hard time looking at him for long. He doesn’t know the boy’s name even though they are so similar everyone in the keep remarked on it the day Eskel arrived.

"How," Eskel asks, then breaks off and shakes his head. The boy exposes a gap-toothed smile, and presses a lump of rock into Eskel's free hand. It's cool and smooth and Eskel is almost certain there is some metallic component to it. That much he remembers from his father's workshop, how to distinguish ore from plain rock. "How did you figure?" he finally manages.

"I saw you whittle a toy knight from wood and give it to one of the younger pups," the boy says, a little sheepish.

Eskel must know his name. They are in the same cohort, they have been attending the same classes. He's only been at Kaer Morhen for a month or so, but his memory is usually so sharp. Why can’t he remember?

"... I also overheard Master Vesemir ask you about the quality of your practice sword and you seemed to know a lot about that, so I thought... well it might be stupid anyway." Red creeps into the boy's impossibly freckle-speckled cheeks as he looks away, and Eskel's lip twitches.

"What's your name again?"

"Geralt."

"Thank you for this, Geralt, I know just the thing to make with it."

Geralt's head whips back around and his grin bursts anew. He gives the rock in Eskel's hand a pat, then skips away to where Master Rennes is collecting their class for their early history lessons. Eskel lets Geralt's unexpected gift slip into his pocket and gets up to follow him.

---

That night, Geralt and Eskel sneak out of the dormitories to search the sky for shooting stars. They find none, but in the way only young children can form attachments, they have become the best of friends by the next morning. Nothing will ever come between them, Eskel thinks once he's back in bed, the rock cradled close to his chest.

---

Eskel is afraid. He is so fucking afraid of the Trials, for his own life, for Geralt's, for everyone in their cohort. He is also afraid of what will come after, what life will be like. He knows the theory of it, he will make a good witcher his masters say, but reality looms greater than any beast or monster could and Eskel is afraid.

"I have something for you," Geralt says when he approaches Eskel out on the training grounds where he's been sparring with the dummy. It's the evening before.

"Hm?" Eskel puts down his sword and wipes the sweat from his brow. His stomach gapes with hunger, his body burns from all the effort he's been putting it through, just to get his mind off things, his heart is beating way too fast. Something the Trials will remedy, no doubt.

"Here." Geralt holds out his cupped hands which hold a great, grey ball of... rock. The very same rock Eskel still has on his nightstand. Eskel blinks, then bursts into laughter. "Hey, don't laugh at me. It's to help..."

"How is this going to help me survive the Grasses?" Eskel asks, but he takes the rock and he also takes Geralt's hand because he can.

"Well, I just thought... you might need some more. For whenever you decide what to do with it. It could be your activity while you... recover."

"Oh," is all Eskel says and Geralt squeezes his hand.

"Wanna spar?"

"Sure." The rock disappears into Eskel's pocket and they fight until day's first light.

----

Eskel holds the rock clutched tightly to his chest all throughout the Grasses and none of the masters have the heart to take it away from him, not when he starts screaming for Geralt the second they do.

He holds it throughout his recovery and throughout Geralt’s second set of Trials. He holds it until he muscles in his fingers give out and all he can do is lay there and wait.

---

"We made it," Geralt says as he slips into Eskel's bed. His hair is starkly white now, and his eyes burn a fierce yellow. His freckles have faded to invisibility. Eskel can't stand to look at him, can't stand to look at reflective surfaces either. They took away his Geralt, he is sure of it, burned him out of his body and left a bleached shell.

"You made it twice," Eskel murmurs and jumps when something cool is pressed into his palm. He glances down to find that Geralt has placed yet another rock there. The collection is growing. "Why?"

"Because they make you happy."

"Where do you get these anyway?"

They're not like anything Eskel has found in and around Kaer Morhen, nor even near it. He would recognize a proper ore, he is sure of it, even after all this time.

"A secret," Geralt says on a smile and snuggles into Eskel's side. He needs the comfort, the warmth, the affection. Geralt puts on a strong front, but Eskel can see right through it. Two Grasses should have reduced anyone to a lifeless husk and here Geralt is, still bringing Eskel those stones.

Maybe they didn't kill his Geralt after all. Maybe Eskel is the one that got lost.

---

The fourth rock appears magically in Eskel's backpack after his first successful hunt. Not immediately after, but within the week. Eskel treasures that one the most, but he also resents it. If Geralt could drop by to give him the gift, couldn't he have also said hello? Given Eskel a hug?

Eskel's been aware of his budding feelings for his brother-in-arms for a while now. He feels every day spent apart as keenly as a Nekker bite, though these dull with time.

Geralt... doesn't seem to mind so much.

---

Their thirtieth birthday is the last one they celebrate. It's an arbitrary date they picked, way back when, and they always do it together. Always did, anyway. They promise each other - drunk on ale and swaying arm in arm to whatever shanty Lambert and his friends are hollering through the keep's main hall - that they won't need such a stupid thing as birthdays to be grateful for each other's existence. That they'll stop counting the years behind them.

Eskel doesn't want to disregard the past, but he nods along.

"To the next thirty years and whatever lies beyond," Geralt says and slips his hand into Eskel's pocket. When he withdraws, the fabric of his breeches pull down, heavy with whatever Geralt placed in there. "Happy birthday, Eskel." Geralt briefly bumps their foreheads together, then withdraws to chase Lambert away from the ale barrel.

Eskel squeezes his eyes shut and his hands clench into fists, one as it is, one around the object in his pocket.

It's not just the last birthday they celebrate, it is also the last bit of ore Geralt will ever give him.

---

"What are those," Geralt laughs when they part after their mandatory welcome-hug, and points at the spikes that adorn Eskel's jacket. They weren't there last winter, and Eskel wasted an entire month on crafting them, perfecting them. Each one shaped out of the dozen or so rocks Geralt gave him over the years, that last one now half a century past, and Eskel finally decided what to make with them.

Eskel opens his mouth to speak, but Geralt cuts him off before he can.

"These look like something Dandelion would put on his doublet and call it fashion."

Eskel's heart plummets. There are a million things he could say, he could explain, could confess, could... well. It would only make Geralt feel bad, wouldn't it?

"I, uh," he starts, then swallows hard, and Geralt's brow rises. "I did a job for a blacksmith who fancied himself a designer. He... insisted."

"They seem pretty useless to me," Geralt replies, then runs his fingers across them. "But I suppose that is beside the point."

I hate you, Eskel thinks then. I hate you for ever bringing me this damned material, I hate you.

I love you, Eskel thinks also. I love you for the way you used to think of me, I love you.

"At least not as useless as whatever Lambert's got going on," he says and that makes Geralt chuckle. He draws an arm around Eskel's shoulder, carefully avoiding the spikes, and together they make for the keep.

---

Eskel doesn't have the heart to pluck them off again. Not when he spent so much effort making them. He wears them as a reminder, and sheds them only on the day he leaves Kaer Morhen behind for the last time.

#the witcher #tw3 #eskel #geralt #gerskel #kaer morhen #vesemir #rennes #lambert #angst #cw trauma #trials #this got way too long for it being the background of eskel's armor spikes BUT i felt it was important to elaborate #also probably too emotional #sorryyyyy #brain wanted pain #unrequited feelings #don't look at the timeline too too closely

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Compliment Battle ~ Lee Felix [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 1.8k

↬↬↬Genre: Fluffy!!!

↬↬↬Pairing: Lee Felix X Latina!Reader

↬↬↬A/n: Hope this is okay for you love! Had a lot of fun writing for the guys as I feel like I haven’t written fluff for them in a while! I promise to write more once my requests are down!

The press was good at over exaggerating things whenever they could, it was what they did all of the time you knew and everyone else knew it too but knowing it was different when you were reading something about yourself. Another day another dumb article from one of the online magazines that everyone seemed to adore so much, always sharing it with one another despite the contents either being completely made up or turned on their head so they were no longer facts. You laid awake while Felix was asleep beside you, he'd gotten in late with Chan last night so you weren't about to wake him up and show him yet another article about your relationship. The only reason you were up so early was because of the sun peeking through the blinds in the window which Jeongin had neglected to shut - again - the night before. Through every muscle in your body, you slowly and quietly got out of the bottom bunk of the bed and walked towards the door - being careful not to trip on any of Jisung's clothes as you went, he told you the reason they were on the floor was that it kept things organised for him, you would have accepted the excuse as well if the boy didn't wear the same four shirts over and over again. You'd been staying over at the dorms while you came to visit Felix for a couple of weeks, trying not to get in the way while they trained and got things ready for STAY.

"You okay?" A voice called out as you silently shut the door behind you, your hand landed on your chest to calm your heart that was now pounding against your chest thanks to Chan who was sitting in the kitchen. He'd heard someone waking up and he knew it wasn't going to be any of the boys - not yet anyway, he placed is earbuds down onto the table and stared at you waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I was going to take a shower. You slept yet?" Stupid question. He'd probably been sitting in the kitchen working from his laptop all night - you knew all of the boys like the back of your hand since you met them when Felix did. Chan eyed you up, he could already tell there was something on your mind by the way you were avoiding his eyes and holding yourself up. Your arms were folded across your chest to block out any body language to give yourself away but in doing so it gave it away that something was wrong.

"I'll make a drink, sit down and tell me about it." You sighed you hated how well he knew people, how quickly he could decipher when something was wrong with someone but at the same time you did love him for it. It was like having a caring older brother there to watch out for you, even if you were older than him Chan would still feel like the older brother type. He flicked the kettle on while he watched you from the corner of his eye, you were sitting at the table while nervously playing with the sleeves of Felix's hoodie you'd worn to bed.

"What is it?" He questioned, he'd made you a drink then set it down in front of you while he waited for you to speak about whatever it was that was bothering you. You knew that Chan and the boys had had their fair share of press coverage both negative and positive but you didn't know how to bring it up with Chan without him running to Felix. It wasn't something you wanted to bother anyone with but it was starting to bother you to the point where you dreaded going online. The constant sprew of articles being written about you was insane, you would have thought they'd have better things to do than write about you and your relationship but apparently not.

"Have you seen the articles?" You could already tell by the dejected look on his face that he'd seen them already and you groaned laying your head down onto the cold wooden table. It was cold enough to relieve some of the tension headache you had but it wasn't enough to completely pass it away.

"It's every time I come to visit, they seem to pick up more and somehow get worse." You whispered looking up at him through your arms to see him giving you a sad smile. You had been visiting the boys a lot more than you used to since dating Felix and since your relationship was outed to everyone. Once it was out you and Felix saw no reason to hide that you were together anymore and continued life as normal together.

"They have to talk about something and unfortunately it's not always good." Your mind flashed back to all of the articles talking about you, how you didn't fit the 'Korean Beauty Standards' and that you were different to who they wanted Felix to date - as if it was down to them anyway. Felix could date whoever he wanted and you were lucky enough that he chose you - though he'd convinced you that he was the lucky one to be able to date you.

"I'm going to go and shower, thanks for the coffee," You whispered taking the mug with you as you headed for the main bathroom of the dorms, it had the largest shower which would make you feel better after the morning you'd been having.

"Hi," Felix's voice was warm as he came up behind you in the kitchen wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood at the sink washing up the breakfast plates and pans you'd used to cook for everyone.

"Hi," You whispered back to him as you felt him leave a small kiss on the back of your neck, he turned you around and you groaned as your hands were still wet from the soapy dishwater.

"Changbin already moped this morning don't make him do it again," You squealed through your sentence as he picked you up and placed you onto the countertop ignoring the protest he got from Hyunjin and Jisung who were still trying to eat their breakfast but finding it hard at the sudden display of affection.

"I'm showing my girl how much I love her-"

"Yeah, well, you have a bedroom for that." Jisung groaned shoving a bit of toast into his mouth watching as Felix took you towards the dorm room he shared with Jisung and Jeongin.

"I missed you this morning." He whispered as he laid you down the bed beneath him his arms either side of your head as he looked down at you, you sent him the warmest smile you could manage with the articles playing in the back of your head. Whenever you looked at him you could somehow feel the words all creeping into your head and clouding your vision of you and him together,

"Sorry, I wanted to do something nice since it's my last week." You knew you were lying. He knew you were lying. He could read you like a book. He collapsed down onto the bed beside you and patted his chest wanting you to cuddle into him while you spoke about what was troubling you. There was no getting out of it, once Felix knew something was bothering you he wouldn't stop until he knew what it was and could fix it for you. He was the little ball of sunshine that tried to make your day better all of the time.

You sat crossed legged in front of him though wondering how you were supposed to bring something like this up to him, he was used to articles being written about him and the boys but you weren't. You weren't used to waking up to the internet exploding about your body - the week before they'd done nothing but analyse the way your body was shaped, the way your hips would move when you walked and the way you wore your clothes. It was different to what they were used to, sure, but you assumed they'd get over it sooner or later. This week however it was about your personality, it was no secret that you were extroverted but with friends like Felix and the guys you had to be. You were all loud and rambunctious together as you all fed off of one another's energy, competing to see who was the loudest out of all of you.

"It's the articles isn't it?" He sat up and came face to face with you, you looked at him eyes dancing over his face to see his freckles you loved so much and his dark brown eyes. His blonde hair was getting long again and fell into his face, you pushed it out of the way and he sighed knowing the answer to his question already without you even saying a word to him.

"I just-"

"Come here," He pulled you to lay down next to him and you sighed, laying here in his arms seemed to melt everything away around you. Suddenly you weren't in the Stray Kids dorm you were just alone with Felix in your own little world being able to just be yourselves without having to worry about anyone else.

Felix knew that there was nothing that he could do to prevent the articles from writing about you or to stop what they were writing about but he was going to do his best to make you feel better about them whenever he could. That was the price for dating an idol when they were in the limelight so were you and if you were going to be seen together it was going to happen a lot more.

"I love it when you're loud by the way," He mumbled into your ear an hour later. You'd both fallen asleep curled up in each other's arms only to wake up with Jeongin come in from losing a video game against Chan.

"Someone can give us all a run for our money, I thought we were loud but with you, we could cheer on a whole basketball team and maybe a football team." You gently poked his side as he playfully teased you trying to cheer you up and he chuckled kissing your cheek as he drew you closer to him, your head was resting against his chest just listening to his heartbeat as you cuddled together.

"Don't even get me started on the way you move your hips - ugh so gorgeous." You groaned at him for being so gross this early in the morning, you took a pillow out from behind you and began smushing it against his face as you got up to get away from his constant compliments, he continued yelling them as you ran towards the door.

"Come back in here and let me compliment you!" He yelled as you shot out of the room into the living room where the boys all let you hide behind them so Felix couldn't get to you.

Tagline:

@snowy-meowl @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @jooniesdarlingdimples

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