#i have to get all her mannerisms figured out and give her all the attention she needs to be a good character bc im obsessedd with her

[nervoussagittarius]

do you still have wisdom?

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: in the midst of your wisdom teeth removal, your boyfriend and his brothers become your caregivers, request

warnings: fluffy, language, one suggestive comment, talk of needles and surgery,

the camera started rolling as you lethargically placed yourself in matt’s arms. today was the day you were getting your wisdom teeth removed and it was safe to say you were extremely nervous.

“tell everyone how you’re feeling y/n/n” nick said.

you lifted your head from matt’s chest and you replied, “i feel nervous about being put under anesthesia and i’m just really tired.” you felt matt footing shift slightly as he chucked.

matt moved from holding you to just wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “yeah so y/n didn’t really sleep last night, but you’ll have all the time to sleep tonight, okay?” you looked up at him and nodded with a small smile.

“so we’re going to go to the dentist and we’ll see you guys there.”

about an hour went by before you were sat in the chair, laying back, getting ready to receive your iv. you were not excited. you didn’t have a big fear of needles, you could tolerate them. it was the idea of the needle being in your arm for a long amount of time.

the three boys stood around you in a comforting manner. nick and matt stood to your right. nick filming while matt held your hand and soothingly ran his fingers through your hair. chris stood to your left paying attention to what the doctors were telling you guys.

“we’re going to put your iv in and it will give you the anesthesia so you’ll be out shortly after that. we’ll be in and out for the next couple minutes to see how you’re doing.” your doctor said as he started prepping your arm for the needle. you turned your head towards matt as he made goofy faces at you as a distraction.

“thank you.” you guys all stated as the doctor left your room. your eyes almost instantly started to become heavy and you felt sleep begin to take over.

the drowsiness became more prominent as the boys started to make jokes. “y/n, what kind of cup doesn’t hold liquid?” chris asked laughing. your eyes fluttered shut as you held a finger to your lips to shush him. “a cupcake.” chris finished making nobody laugh but himself.

you reached your arm up over your shoulder to gets matt’s attention. you blindly hit him and he looked down at you. “what’s up, love?” he asked.

“please ask chris to stop making jokes. i can’t focus on him right now.”

chris gave you an offended face as nick and matt broke out into a laughter. “you heard her chris, stop talking.” nick said almost in tears from laughing.

the doctor came back in just as you fell fully asleep. “okay y/n, we’re going to test your memory later. your password is grape.” you deliriously nodded in agreement. matt stayed by your side rubbing your shoulder for as long as he could before ultimately getting kicked out of the room.

the three boys stood in the hallway half focused on eachother and half focused on you. “how are you feeling matt?” chris asked, patting him on the shoulder and coming around to stand next to him. “i feel okay. i know how much pain she’s been in so i’m glad we’re getting that taken care of. i’m happy we’re all here to support her.”

the camera panned to you in the chair just as you started to lift your head slightly. you quickly side eyed the doctors as they readjusted you to leaning back.

a short time passed before all four of your wisdom teeth were extracted and your three best friends were allowed back in your room.

“how are you feeling y/n/n?” chris asked.

your were still a bit out of it and the gauze in your mouth slurred your words. “i’m cold.” was all that you got out. you were feeling emotional so when the three boys all looked at each other because they forgot your jacket in the car tears started to brim your eyes.

“awe sweetheart don’t cry we’ll figure it out. here you can have my long sleeve.” once you realized matt was next to you it was like your heart did a one eighty. “oh hi matt! i missed you!” you exclaimed lovingly as your words blended together.

“i appreciate the offer but i can’t put the shirt over my iv.” you said with a tiny frown. almost instantly chris started removing his zip-up and draped it over you. “hey! thanks chris.” you gave him a loopy smile.

“hey y/n, do you remember your password?” your doctor asked as he came back into the room to type on the computer. you instantly gave him, and the three brothers around you, a very confused look. “like for my phone?” you were extremely confused at this point and you couldn’t get much out of the three boys who were laughing their asses off. your doctor took over trying to explain. “we gave you a password that you were supposed to remember. do you?” you shook your head at him. “that’s okay we’re going to give you another on and if you remember then you can leave and go home. your password is ocean.”

“ocean, got it”

you thought for a second before speaking up again. “hey doc, how long until i can suck dick again?” nick and chris had officially lost it at this point. cracking up at the fact that you had no idea that your exposing all of your and matt’s secrets. matt only blushed and tried not to smile when you smiled up at him and grabbed his hand in yours. you tried to wink at him but it came out more as a delayed blink.

the doctor didn’t look shocked at all. you figured he’d been used to receiving this question. “you have to wait until your incisions heal. so a couple weeks.” and with that the doctor left the room again.

you looked at matt with a sorrowful face. “sorry matt.” you remorsefully said. trying to change the subject matt spoke up, “what’s the password, sweetheart?” you looked at him lovingly. “you’re pretty.” you said reaching you hand up to rest on his cheek.

“thanks baby.”

“hey, between me and nick whose your favorite?” asked chris as he poked your shoulder in an annoying but excited manner. you looked at him, then at nick, and then back to matt. you looked straight into the camera nick was holding before firmly stating, “i don’t have favorites.” chris rolled his eyes at you.

“and if i did have a favorite it would be matt, duh.” hearing this matt leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“y/n, what’s your password to go home.”

“um? lake?”

“ohhhh so close. it is a body of water. it was ocean.” chris cooed at you as he rubbed your shoulder.

“your new one is sushi.” “oh i love sushi.”

you reached up to rub your eyes forgetting that your were still connected to a couple of wires. “ow you mother fucker.” you commented looking down at you arms. “please kiss it.” you said lifting your arm up to chris since he was closest to your iv.

“listen kid, i love ya but i’m not kissing your arm.”

“that’s so fucked up. i’d do it for you.” you complained. hesitantly, chris leaned down to place the lightest peck possible to your arm. “thank you. matt, i love you” you quickly changed the subject. he was caught off guard at your sudden outburst. “i love you too, y/n”

“nick, chris, i love you guys too.” “we love you y/n.” “love ya y/n/n.”

the doctor made his way back to the room to see that your medicine was all injected through your veins. and started to take your iv out. “do you remember the password to go home, y/n?”

“yep it’s sushi.” you said as you kept your eyes on matt to avoid noticing the needle coming out of your arm. he ran his hand up and down your arm to comfort you. “that’s right.” nick said patting your leg to congratulate you on remembering.

the doctor got a wheelchair to take you to the car. when you made it to the parking garage matt helped you into the passenger seat and gently kissed your cheek letting you know he had to go get the parking pass.

you leaned back in your chair and sighed contently. “i just love him so much. he’s so perfect and babygirl.” nick and chris laughed as matt came back to the car.

you held your teeth to the camera showing them the container. “i have to put my teeth under my pillow so the tooth fairy brings me money.”

“you’re bloody teeth are not going anywhere near my bed.” “our bed.”

the video ended shortly after that with you grabbing matt’s hand and telling the viewers to enjoy the video while you enjoyed the dominic fike album chris put on for you.

comments:

i love how flirty y/n is in anesthesia

matt was so boyf in this video

y/n is right matt is babygirl

chris is such a little brother it’s unreal

nick is really giving us the content we need

an: this is all i’ve been thinking about for the past day. also i started a tag list so go comment on it if you want added 🤍

taglist: @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt

tags for this post: @thetriplets3 @mazzystar111

[mygnolia]

LOVE ON A FRESH SLATE ༄ TEASER

༄ SYNOPSIS -› Sim Jaeyun might not have many critically acclaimed films in his IMBD, but if there’s something to change that, it’s his upcoming film, ‘diving in love,’ a fresh summer romance that’s caught the attention of everyone on the internet. The only problem is, no one believes the chemistry will be up to rom-com standards. Maybe he’ll save his career by fake dating his cold-hearted co-star, aka you, to sell it?

༄ PAIR -› actor!sim jaeyun x fem actress!reader

༄ GENRE -› fluff, banter, angst, comfort ༄ TROPES -› enemies to lovers, heavy on the fake dating (i LOVE fake dating) ༄ WC -› estimated 15-20k idk lolz

༄ INCLUDES -› will be added!

༄ RELEASE DATE -› november!

༄ REN SAYS... me when summer also haha get it slate cuz they're actors but also it's e2l so misunderstandings heheheh am i funny (im not) | LIBRARY

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“You’re going to tell me you signed me up for the cult of Scientology, I assume,” You introduce yourself, shaking hands with the man next to Sunoo. 

Once again, there is just one empty seat before Jake Sim walks in, out of breath. “Jungwon, please don’t tell me–” He notices you after he barges in, taking in your poised manner as you wait for him to continue. But he doesn’t. The words die on his tongue when he sees you and the same manager from last week's meeting. 

“Please don’t tell me what?” Jungwon asks, raising an eyebrow as Jake sinks into the only chair left. The latter shakes his head, not wanting to elaborate any further. 

Sunoo sits up, putting his hands together after he finishes the last sip of his drink. “Open up the files, ____.” He motions to the manila folder on the table, and with much confusion, you peel back the cover to find a neat stack of black and white articles. 

Jungwon, who you can only assume is Jake’s manager, gets Jake to lean in and read what’s on the pages. “This,” he starts, spreading out the rest of the articles, “is every article in the past week with a negative outlook on whether or not the film will be up to par with the standards of the 2000’s.”

You scoff, eyes trailing over an article with your face as the cover. “Really? People hate me that much?” Your dry humor really only resonates with Sunoo, who sends you a look before trying to organize the flurry of papers.

“I doubt they’ll keep going,” Jake tries, fidgeting with his ring. Maybe his second rich person problem was figuring out how to get the media to like him again if the movie turns into a failure and he has to scour for another source of income. 

“Unless I solve world hunger, I doubt the media will turn away from the wine scandal any time soon.” Jake considers dropping out and cutting his losses early with the way you comment on your impending future. 

Jake’s manager shakes his head, closing the manila folder and essentially blocking it out before coming up with the worst possible plan in existence. 

“You two can fake date. Then, no one will question your chemistry, because they’ll think you’re in love.” 

There were only so many things you refused to do in your lifetime, but fake dating your co-star made it to the top of your list in record time. 

You shook your head. “Absolutely not.” At least Jake could agree with one thing you said. 

The silence almost turns awkward before Sunoo speaks up in agreement, ignoring you. “I like it, it’ll give them a chance to pretend to bond more. Plus, they’re both young and attractive, and Jake is a change of pace from all of her shitty ex-boyfriends.” If Jake still wanted to jump off a building after hearing their proposition, you’d unknowingly want to join him. 

You cough in your arm, hiding the embarrassment of his last comment before nodding to look at the actor. “You think just because I’m dating someone, it’ll make the movie more watchable?” 

Sunoo rolls his eyes. “I’d much rather watch a rom-com if it was confirmed that the actors found love on set. It’s a good story.” 

Jungwon interjects. “Good publicity.” 

The actor beside you finally speaks up. “And you want to start this arrangement…when?” 

“As soon as possible,” your manager answers, and his response might be some of the worst news you’ve heard in a while. “Hear me out, ‘____ ____ and Jake Sim falling in love the moment they’re casted. It’s fate. They’ve been in love since the beginning. I have to see it, their chemistry will be so good.’ ”

Before you nor Jake are able to come up with a rebuttal, Jungwon adds, “I know both of you can act, and even despite this fake relationship, the movie will be good. But if you can get away from the negative thoughts surrounding the film’s pre-release, it’ll generate so much more hype around it.” 

“Better for your conscience, ____. You don’t need angry Sunghoon fans sending you anymore death threats.” If Sunoo kept airing out your problems like that, you’d drag him out by the ear without any fake boyfriend in tow.

You really think about it, questioning if one PR stunt could get you out of the nepo baby ditch you’ve been trying to fight for years; it wasn’t even that you were bad at your job, your mother just never had anything nice to say to anyone. If anything, she was Hollywood’s actual mean girl.

“Fine.” You agree begrudgingly. 

Jake on the other hand has no idea what he’s getting out of this. How does fake-dating a girl he’s never liked help his reputation at all?

Maybe it’s because he couldn’t find an answer to it, or maybe Jake was comfortable enough asking something so brash in public. “What the hell do I get out of it?” 

You lean back in surprise, not used to hearing him so flustered by something. It was all your fault, Jake thinks as he once again pulls at his hair. 

The room is silent as everyone’s gears turn. Jake puts his hands on both sides of the armchair, about to get up and pretend this failure of a ruse ever existed. “If there’s nothing, I’m-”

“Wait,” you cut him off, eyes still fixed on something as you think. It’s good for you, and mainly you. Jake has a good reputation, people love natural chemistry and love a cute couple even more, and your name would be in summer-y titles for the next two months if your scheme worked out. But him? 

What could Jake Sim possibly want? 

“You want money? Connections? An interview with Justin Beiber?” You try, spewing what every boy would want when they were 13. 

Somehow, his head perks up when he hears his favorite celebrity’s name from your lips. 

“You could do that?” He asks, bewildered. 

“I thought you hated me for having a famous mom.” He stays silent. 

“Look, you’re up and coming. If this movie does well, I’ll send a letter to the top producers in the industry and tell them about how stunning of a performance you gave.” 

It’s a deal that’s extremely hard to pass on–hell, he’s literally getting paid to act in the movie anyways, so it’s not like he loses much if he says yes. But you’re snarky, and although you’re not outright rude, you never seem to be excited for anything, and Jake has no idea why the mood is so sour when he’s with you.

Whatever, it’s not like it’s real, anyways.  

Jake shrugs and pinches his nose bridge momentarily before sighing. “Where do I sign?” 

You thought that Jake had been oblivious to the whole thing as much as you were, but it seems like he knew about a hidden contract. Jungwon fishes out a crisp white sheet of paper from his bag. “You know me so well, and I didn’t even tell you anything,” and his response has you thinking that maybe the actor just knows his manager well. 

Suddenly, the next year of your love life is signed and tucked away into two identical copies for Jungwon and Sunoo, before the two shake hands and smile. “I’m excited for how things will go,” your manager comments before you two leave. 

The moment the door shuts behind you, you let out a long exhale, suddenly finding interest in your manicure. 

“You’re annoying, Sunoo. But I don’t doubt you.” 

The boy smiles and links arms with you, walking to the entrance of the studio building before you both catch wind of the paparazzi. 

A swarm of reporters and cameras catch your casual outfit and sunglasses when you emerge with your manager behind you. Questions bombard you, and you hear amongst the commotion a few reporters who are desperate for their next article to feature you. ‘Is it true that you’ve hated Sunghoon for years?’ ‘What do you have to say about your new film?’ ‘Do you have anything to say about Jake Sim?’ 

You pause momentarily on the way to your car, reconsidering if you should answer any question. “Me and Sunghoon have never had a disagreement, and I know he appreciated the Prada we sent him a few weeks ago.” Smiling at the memory, you choose to answer a few more questions before you have to go. “As for the new film? I’m fairly excited. Me and my boyfriend are more than ready to be filmed together." 

The gasps from the crowd leave you content as you slip into your car with Sunoo. “But don’t tell anyone I’m dating!” You yell out for good measure, knowing that by morning, everything will have changed.

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[colourstreakgryffin]

I was wondering if you can do Alastor x daughter! Reader? She’s manifested from his magic and because of that she has some of Alastor’s powers. However, she’s the complete and total opposite of him. She’s kind and sweet like Charlie, but is very shy. She never likes bringing out her true demon form for she is very terrifying. Alastor is very protective of her. Although, what if she sees Alastor get hurt by another overlord or Adam and he turns into her demon form to protect him and everyone is surprised by this and maybe even terrified of her.

OMFG. Yes! Second Alastor request in a rooowww! I love this man uncontrollably and he would be a good daddy. He’s a stag papa with his little fawn for reaaall! I love this idea, lots of loves and so much thanks for giving Hazbin Hotel more attention— or, I guess Alastor!

Father! Alastor- Hell’s Angel

Okay… Alastor wasn’t suspecting to pop a kid out of thin air when he actually wanted to pop a kid out of thin air. His magic is very powerful, no doubt but he birthed a child from solely his own powers and about 100% of his own DNA so his daughter’s features are primarily matching his own but there are some personal key differences Alastor wanted you to have to seperate yourself from him

So, you’re not a carbon copy of your dad, the Radio Demon. More just have the same deer features and red colouring

Alastor also wasn’t suspecting to have born an angel of his own. Sweet, affectionate, cheery, always smiling but smiling in a more welcoming and natural manner than her papa. He doesn’t mind it, you’re his babygirl. He loves you dearly, even after he just shat you out from literally nothing. He’s just surprised!

Well, at least Charlie loves you because you’re like… exactly what she loves and Alastor gets jealous of how well Charlie bonds with his own daughter!

Alastor has never known how to handle his own powers so when you begin manifesting voodoo dolls and portals containing all kinds of demonic beasts, he has to figure out how to get around all of it without hurting you a single bit. He has a whole plan scheduled out for anytime your powers trigger at random

Alastor’s protective, loving, clingy and carries you around a lot. He loves being able to bond with you, he likes hearing your cute deer noises when you’re trying to talk to him. He never lets you leave his sight and whilst he reframes from murder, he may just kill Vox for insulting his little fawn

Alastor now has all the full right to tell awful Dad jokes, since he is a proper Dad now. Rest in peace once again, Angel Dust

Yes. Alastor is the type to spoil his daughter. Spoil rotten, he isn’t going to stop and he isn’t sorry. He loves his little princess and no matter what, he’ll give her what she wants. If anybody dares to take what she wants from her, he’ll send them to double hell then give his babygirl extra hugs and kisses as apologises

Alastor knows, like him, you have your own full demon form and for a harmless sweetheart like yourself(that only uses your powers to help the Hotel staff). Your full form is actually terrifying and you know that, which is why you avoid it. You don’t want to scare anybody, especially not your beloved dad so you always reframe from getting too mad

Just let Papa Alastor handle anything bad. He’ll protect and care for you in the most sweet, cuddly way possible

Alastor is a lunatic, barely sane, monstrous all under a passive-aggressive, well-mannered, dapper 1930s gentleman image but when it comes to you, you’re the most healthy thing he has and he feels genuine love, care and affection for his own offspring. He only views you as his daughter, nothing else or anything exploitative. After all, he acts more like the one serving you than anything. He’ll get you whatever you want, no questions asked

Alastor wants to keep you away from threats so when Adam attacks the Hazbin Hotel. He has no choice but to leave you with Charlie. However, this didn’t last long since you knew your father was struggling when you heard his voice’s radio effect cut out. That was immediately a sign that you, not even a ten-year-old, to jump in and it caused you to rampage against Adam when you used your powers to track down and make it over to Alastor

“PRINCESS! GET AWAY FROM HERE NOW!” Alastor, despite the giant thick cut across his chest, staining his red pinstriped coat, over the white trims of his dark red lapels, yells out as loud as he can to catch his child’s attention, to get her to back off. Struggling to rise up to his feet with his tall fluffy deer-like ears pinned back. A sign of his fear, not because of seeing his babygirl in her full demon form throwing everything she has at the angel, Adam but because you’re in so much danger attacking Adam

Adam isn’t a merciful being, despite being an Angel, and the risk to your life is extremely high. Your demon form is ten times more demonic than any sinner can manifest, due to being produced by raw demonic magic, you form into a pure demonic entity

Screeching out in a menacing echoey way, entirely black and clumpy, phasing in and out like mist, shaped like a mighty Wendigo deer with literally zero resemblance to your cute little form. To you, your father’s in danger and with his cane snapped in half, his powers limited and his radio voice effect gone

You can’t just sit around in Charlie’s arms and let Alastor get killed by this psycho angel!

You have to risk everything to let Alastor escape. However, he isn’t going anywhere without you and is frantically trying to think of a way to get you away from Adam as the said holy entity keeps throwing swings after swings with his holy sharpened guitar to break off all the attacks coming from your Wendigo-style full form, letting out many strings of hateful curses at both you and Alastor. It’s clear with all the shadowy spines and green electricity shocks that you’re desperately trying to fend off the much stronger Angel to try protect your father

But if the Radio Demon himself couldn’t take on Adam for any longer than a few minutes. Of course, you don’t stand a chance, lasting half the time Alastor did. Being beaten when Adam outspeed and charged down a devestating sharp swing on your full form’s form head after you attempt to attack again. Thinking rather fast, you used your magic to cushion the blow to avoid it actually killing you

Being thrown over on the opposite end to where Alastor is and fading back into your normal demon form, a nasty big cut all down your back to the end of your fluffy deer tail, sobbing and clenching fangs

The staff watching nearby were terrified yet impressed. Impressed a child of your age and confidence was able to get that many hits on Adam and manage to guard yourself from a attack from Adam himself, getting away with merely just one cut

The Radio Demon growls frustrated and outraged at being forced to watch his child being thrown around like some doll and get even more hurt, now cornered by Adam, since it’s clear he doesn’t care to attack Alastor anymore. Thinking just as fast and getting up properly with his snapped-into-two cane in one tightening fist

Alastor phases through into the shadows in an almost melting fashion, dragging you down with him in the same shadowy engulfing manner by a single black trail travelling over to where you laid, leaving the bloodthirsty human ancestor as the victor of this fight. Needless to say, Alastor was so pissed. Pissed he lost the fight when he had managed to get many hits on Adam at the first section of the fight and pissed that said Angel dared to put his hands on his angel

At least… you’re safe now. Bleeding, hurt, crying and tired from overworking yourself whilst laid in Alastor’s arms, but you’re alive and okay. In your father’s hold and safe. Away from the Hotel and protected by the Voodoo’s shadowy magic

“You’re okay, darling… you’re okay. Papa’s got you, he’s always got you”

[justmeinadaze]

Yin & Yang (Steddie X You)

A/N: This post got me feeling some kind of way🫠 .

Warnings: Older Daddy Eddie (Late 30s)/ Older Dom Mr. Harrington (Late 30s) & Younger Fem Sub Y/N (mid 20s)

SMUT, LOTS of dirty talk, male masturbation, fingering, talks of sharing (duh), slight innocence kink (if you squint; she's new to the dynamic), ANGST, reader deals with a rude customer and Eddie saves the day. A fight between Eddie and Y/N are mentioned.

Word Count: 4838

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Everyone always said Edward Munson was a rude, pretentious asshole. News outlets, websites, social media; everyone who met him briefly or not at all expressed a particular distain for him that you always found amusing when the topic came up. 

Visually, he did seem a bit aloof whenever the businessman did any kind of interview or was asked any kind of question. It was always a bit odd seeing a music producer get so much attention especially one who focused on the heavy metal scene but everyone who hated him also tended to agree that he was a genius at the craft. 

The bands he signed and prompted always hit high numbers on their respective charts making him and them a ton of extra money in the process. 

Anything you read or heard you skimmed past mostly because that wasn’t exactly your scene nor did you know anything when it came to what goes on the background of the music industry. Working at a coffee shop wasn’t extravagant or lucrative but it got you through till you could figure what actually was your scene and go from there. 

That’s how you met him. 

On a particularly rough shift, a man was screaming at you about an order that you supposedly got wrong as you tried to control the tears from spilling down your face. 

“How stupid are you?! It’s coffee not a fucking math equation. You just put the right liquid in the right cup and fucking hand it to me! It’s not that hard! Fucking moron.”

“Excuse me.” The man turned just as the handsome gentleman who addressed him hung up his phone and shoved it into his coat pocket. “I understand you’re a bit stressed but I’m going to have to ask you to stop harassing the young lady. It’s not her fault and she’s doing her best.”

“Pfft. Fuck off, douchebag. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It actually does because you couldn’t handle this situation in a quiet calm manner. You’re ruining everyone’s morning including mine. Now…either take the coffee she’s giving you or wait for her to make a new one patiently.”

The man’s fist flew but the gentleman moved out of the way, grabbing his wrist, and twisting it as he forced the man to kneel before him. 

“Ok. If this is the way you want to do this, that’s fine. Sweetheart…” When he addressed you, you immediately stood at attention ready to die for this man if he asked after what he had just done. “Can you hand me that cup there? Thank you.”, he praises, flashing you a small smile that makes you giddy. “Now, apologize to the young lady.”

“Ow, I’m sorry!”, the man cringes when his wrist is twisted a bit more. 

“Good. Take this coffee and get the fuck out of my sight. If I see you here again I won’t be so nice.”

Disregarding the Styrofoam in the gentleman’s hand, the rude customer quickly gets to his feet before running out of the store. Sighing, your hero places the coffee in front of you.

“Thank you…for defending me… He was being such an asshole.”

“Yeah, he was. It’s not your fault he didn’t order the correct thing. I can be an asshole myself but I know when and where to use it.” When you giggled, his beautiful eyes scan you over as if trying to get a read on you with the little information in front of him. 

“Are you, um, are you Edward?”, you ask as you slide him the coffee with the name scrawled across. 

Again, he glances you over and later on you would learn he was looking for recognition. Everyone he interacted with knew his name and who he was. You were the first person in years who seemed to regard him as just another stranger which fascinated him.

“I am but you can call me Eddie. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Oh. Um, we’re friends?”

“For now, but I’d like to be more whenever you’re open to it.”

Another smile stretched across his face when he noticed your own turn bright red as you blushed. 

“You don’t even know my name.”

Coyly, he leans his elbows on to your counter as his eyes stare at your chest. At first you feel self-conscious before you realize he’s looking at your name tag and you let out a tiny laugh to break the tension.

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Do I make you nervous?” 

“A little.”

“Honest. I like that. How about this. I can pick you up after your shift today and we can start with dinner and go from there.”

“I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

“That’s ok. I think you look perfect as is and I promise when I come get you I won’t be dressed as formal.”

“O-Ok, Eddie.”

“Good. Good girl. I’ll see you tonight.”

That evening, he showed up right as the shop was about to close and when you told him it would be a few more minutes, he nodded as he patiently waited by the front door. You occasionally snuck glances at him as he browsed his phone. True to his word, he wore jeans and sneakers with a nice white button up shirt that he had rolled up to his elbows. With how he looked this morning, you imagined for him this was dressed pretty down. While his hair was slicked back when you last saw him, now his waves seemed to have a mind of their own making him seem less intimidating and quite adorable. 

Eddie asked you so many different questions about yourself, silently listening as you both ate at the restaurant he took you to. You learned fairly quickly, while he seemed like a man of few words, his body language spoke loudly. His chocolate eyes never left yours as he hung on each and every word you spoke. When you said something he found even remotely funny, his lips would flicker into a slight smirk before returning to their proper alignment. When your drink ran low, his finger would raise and a waiter would promptly run your way with a refill and as the night progressed you found his leg leaning against yours with a little sigh escaping his chest when you didn’t shy away. 

“I feel kind of selfish. I’ve been talking about myself a lot but I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”

“Honestly, sweetheart, it’s a nice reprieve. Everyone I run into knows me and my perceived reputation so to finally meet someone who doesn’t know me is a breath of fresh air.”

“Reputation…”, you repeated the word apprehensively. 

“Um, I’m kind of known as being a jerk.”

“You don’t seem like that to me.”

Eddie smiled so wide this time that his teeth came into view and you knew at that moment you’d do whatever it took to see him smile like that as much as possible. 

“Thank you for that. I can be when I need to be. In my line of work people tend to take advantage pretty early on and I wanted this industry to know I’m not someone to fuck with.”

“Do you make movies or?”

“Music. I’m a music producer for some heavy metal bands.”

“Oh wow! That’s so amazing. I would love to know more! Did you use to play?”

When he finally began to open up, hours passed like minutes and you were so entranced that you didn’t even realize the restaurant was getting ready to close. 

Eddie told you at one point he was in a band but hated the way they were cast aside for being “to generic” and “stuck in the past” so he took matters into his own hands. He bought a building and turned it into a label where he could help produce his friend’s music. He learned everything he could about production and managing, getting everything together, and essentially put Corroded Coffin on the map. 

He found that he actually loved working behind the scenes and stuck with it from that point forward. Now he’s a well-respected name in his field earning triple what he would have made as a guitarist. 

“What’s the name of the label you first opened?”

“Franklin Production; my mother’s maiden name. It seemed right because her money bought the building and she always loved music. She died when I was young.”

When his head hung, your heart broke. 

“Oh my God, Eddie. I’m so sorry.”

His mood changed in the blink of an eye as he breathily chuckled and glanced at his watch. 

“Shit, Y/N, it’s almost 1am. You have to be exhausted after your long shift today. Let me pay for our meal here and then I can take you home.”

“We’ve ordered so much food and drinks. Please let me help pay.” He paused at your comment then as his eyes met your now confused ones. “What?”

“I’ve only met one person who ever offered something like you just did and that man is my best friend.”

“I mean…it’s rude…isn’t it? It’s not fair for me to expect you to pay for everything.”

“Fuck me, baby.” Your eyelids visibly flutter at the term of endearment; coming out of his mouth with a sultry husk that made you swoon. “You’re really something special. I appreciate the offer but when you’re with me, honey, I can take care of you. It’s my pleasure quite honestly.”

You watched him pay the waiter and leave him way more than 15% before Eddie grabs your hand, leading you back to his car. 

That night he dropped you off at your apartment continuing to be the perfect gentleman as he walked you to your door and kept his hands behind his back as you slowly turned your key. Before you entered, however, you paused and hastily turned to plant a small kiss on his lips. Without waiting for a retort, you want inside and shut your door with a little giggle, watching through the peephole to see what he’d do. 

Eddie’s fingers softly brushed against his mouth as he grinned the way you enjoyed at the restaurant. 

***

You had been together now for a few months and you loved him with every fiber of your being. Eddie was extremely protective over you insisting you quit your job and move in with him. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you being somewhere where some fucker can belittle you and make you feel like trash. I can take care of you till you find a new job that makes you happy and people treat you with the respect you deserve.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking; I’m offering.”, he cooed as his hands cupped your cheeks. “You know how much Daddy loves looking after his pretty girl.”

The first time he called himself Daddy, you blushed and hid behind your hands making him smile as he chuckled low in his throat. 

“Have you ever called a man Daddy before?” When you giggle and curl tighter into your body, he climbed into the bed beside you and pulled you to his side. “It’s ok, sweetheart. Nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Can I show you something?”

Eddie grins when you drop your palms and show him your beautiful face. 

“Good girl.”, he praises as he takes ahold of your hand and kisses the back of it. With his eyes locked on yours, he gradually places it on the bulge in his slacks. “You feel that? Do you feel how hard I am just from being around you as is? You don’t have to do or say anything you don’t want to, princess. I’ll still be here and I’ll still want to fuck you till you can barely move.”

A smile twitched on his lips when your breathing stuttered. 

“I-I-I’ve never called anyone Daddy before or done anything that’s not…”

“Vanilla?”, he helped when your sentence stalled. “Vanilla’s ok to. Definitely a delicious flavor that can’t be disregarded. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

Eddie leans in till his mouth is just hovering over the shell of your ear. 

“The fact that you’re so nervous and innocent to all this really fucking turns me on.”

When his cock strains a bit more against the fabric and pushes back against your hand, you can’t help but release a little whine as you push your thighs together. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Got a bit of an ache between your legs?”

“Yes.”, you breath out heavily as his palm ghosts up your thigh and his lips tenderly peck along your neck. 

“I can help with that if you want.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy, please.”

Now, you were more than comfortable especially since he was always so patient with you when it came to almost everything. Unlike your past relationships, you were genuinely surprised at how little the two of you fought if at all. Eddie was a force in his business but when you two were together he was always as accommodating as possible. The one time you ever saw his anger directed towards you was when you forgot your phone when you went on a girl’s night out with your friends. 

When you came home at 2 in the morning, he was waiting in the living room and pacing with a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

“It’s 2 in the morning, Y/N! I’ve been worried sick! You forgot your phone. What if something happened to you and you couldn’t reach me!?”

“Eddie, it’s ok! I just forgot it. I promise I’ll do better next time—”

“That’s not the point! What if there hadn’t been a next time!? I’m responsible for you!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!! I’m sorry!!”

“You watch that fucking tone with me, little girl!”

“Oh yeah. Or what?!”

When the glass in his hand shattered into the wall behind you everything became abruptly silent. Tears stung your eyes as you grabbed the little trashcan nearby and scooted towards the mess, sinking to your knees as you collect the pieces. 

“Y/N, baby. No. No, no. Let me clean this, please.”, Eddie begged, his tone much softer than before as he kneeled beside you. 

When he tried to take the sharp items from your grasp, you angrily pulled away from him. 

“I didn’t mean to forget my phone. It was an honest mistake and you had no right screaming at me like you just did!”

“I know. You’re right, sweetheart. You are absolutely right. I just… fuck… I’m so sorry, Y/N. I love you so much and the idea of something happening to you or you getting hurt just terrifies me. I shouldn’t have reacted this way.”

Blinking up at him, your hand reaches for his own. 

“You love me?”

“Yeah, Y/N, of course. Since I met you behind that coffee counter.”

After tackling him excitedly, you beamed as you kissed his lips. 

“I love you to.”

People on the outside didn’t seem to understand why you were with him but they didn’t know him the way you did. Eddie was sweet, funny, and incredibly kind despite his hardened outer exterior. According to the man himself, the only other person who understood him the same way you did was a man you had yet to meet. 

#############

Steven Harrington was a name you knew solely due to his reputation in media. 

He was always portrayed as just another trust fund baby who was utilizing daddy’s money to do whatever he wanted. He got in trouble constantly but brushed it off with a sexy smile and a calm demeanor that made even the biggest skeptic want to trust him.

The first time Eddie mentioned him by name was after you noticed him watching one of Steve’s interviews. 

“Fucking idiot.”, he chuckled light-heartedly, turning the screen of his phone so you could watch to when you climbed into bed beside him. “This is the guy I was telling you about. Steve Harrington has been my best friend for years.”

“This is your best friend?”

When he nods, you focus on the interview in front of you.

“No, no. Trust me, that company would be crazy to sell right now in this economy. Once things bounce back it will be worth way more than it is now. Then again…if they sell I could buy it and turn it into a hotel or some s***. Go ahead than! Sell that f***er!”, he laughs making you giggle as well when his nose scrunches adorably. 

“Steve is actually a very clever business guy. People constantly underestimate him because he acts like a playboy.”

“So…he’s the yin to your yang?”

Eddie smirks down at you before kissing your forehead. 

“You could say that.”

The more your boyfriend told you about him the more you wanted to meet him. Eddie seemed to genuinely care about this person and as his girlfriend you wanted him to get to know him as well. The first time you spoke to him was after you moved in with Ed and he called to congratulate you both. 

“Hey! Are you Y/N?”

“I am.”, you grin. 

“Oh good. I don’t know what I would have done if you said no. ‘EDDIE! Some random pretty girl is in your place!’”, Steve laughed. 

“Pft. How do you know I’m pretty?”

“Because a sexy voice like yours must be inside a beautiful woman. I’m kind of jealous.”

He said it so smoothly that if you weren’t already sitting you’re sure his words would have knocked you off your feet. Your eyes glanced towards Eddie who was watching you from his spot on the couch. 

“Uh oh. Did I lose you, honey? Sorry. Sometimes I come on a bit too strong.”

“No, no. It’s ok. You just… you remind me of him.”, you exhale as you get up and walk towards your boyfriend. 

“Of who? Of Eddie? I take that as a compliment. He’s a good man.”

“Yeah he is but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Oh? Well then use your words, pretty girl. Who do I remind you of? I’m DYING to know.”

Eddie softly smirks as he watches your breathing stagger the same way it does when you’re intimidated by something. His ring covered fingers gently trace down your arm making you shiver. 

“Tell me.”

The two words that followed came out as a strong command that told you to obey. The contradiction of how he spoke now to how he had before made you dizzy and you desperately wanted more. 

“Daddy.”

After tossing the phone next to Eddie, you covered your face with your palms and ran up the stairs. A few moments later, the man you loved climbed into bed beside you and collected you into his arms. 

“Talk to me, baby. Remember, no matter what there’s nothing to be embaressed about, ok?” He smiled when he felt you nod against his chest. “I know Steve can be a bit much at first but he’s a good person who’s been through a lot of bullshit.”

As you sniffle, you tilt back so you could see his face. 

“I feel bad.”

“About what, sweetheart?”

“I liked the way he spoke to me. It turned me on the same way you do.”

“Ok…why does that make you feel bad?”

You shrug. “I love you.”

That makes him genuinely smile. 

“I love you to, Y/N, so much. That’s why I trust you, babe. I, um, I have a confession to make.” When you sit up to give him your full attention, he does the same. “I’ve known Steve for a long time and I trust that man with my life. I’ve told him things I’ve never told anyone and he’s done the same. You said, sweetheart, he’s the yin to my yang and you’re right. Fuck… how do I say this…”

“You want to share me?”

The innocent way you asked your question drove him insane but he pushed down the need to fuck you for the time being. 

“Kind of, yes. I…I wanted to see how you two got along and if it worked out, maybe, we could fly to go meet him and… you’d still be mine but he’d—”

“Use me.”

“Fuck, baby, you have to stop saying things like that the way you are.”, Eddie panted excitedly as he adjusted the growing bulge in his pants. 

“May I ask why? Why you would want to share me like that?”

“Of course, Y/N, you can always ask me anything. You hold the power here especially when it comes to this. I just… he’s my best friend and I want him to be happy to. In these past few months, you’ve changed my world and I just want to give him some of that. I, um, I also think…”

“Tell me, Daddy. Please.”, you beg in your tiny voice that has his eyes closing as he tries to control himself. 

“Fuck… I think it would be incredibly hot to watch you fuck him.”

You had told him you were open but apprehensive because it was all new territory for you. Both men came up with an idea to help you get acclimated to the idea. 

“Hey all. Wow, Jesus Christ Munson, you undersold your girlfriend’s beauty. Hot damn.”

You giggled as Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend who was laughing himself from his side of the computer screen. It looked like Steve had the device he was using for this facetime visit resting on his lower stomach as he leaned against the headboard of his bed looking incredibly sexy with his ruffled hair and tank top just barely covering the chest hair that littered his skin. 

Eddie had you sitting in between his own legs as he rested his head against your shoulder and his arms hugged you to him. 

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. If I do at any point please just let me know and I’ll respect your boundaries.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable but, uh, you kind of intimidate me a bit…more than Eddie did.”

“Is it because I start at 10 and go from there? Yeah, casualties of growing up in chaotic household and then starting a business where your biggest competitor is your father.”

“What DO you do? Ed said you’re an investor?”

“Kind of.  I invested in a friend’s tech company many years ago and that paid off in a big way. They make medical supplies that are high quality for a cheaper price. I’m trying to expand so we can invest in more—Pfft! Listen to me talking about all that bullshit. Let’s talk about something else.”

“No, hey! That’s amazing that you do that. My father needed supplies like that but it was so hard for him to afford stuff. You’ve probably helped so many people. What supplies has your company helped make?”

Steve blinked, sitting up straighter.

“Huh.”

“I told you.”, Eddie sings as he places a delicate kiss along your skin. 

“D-Did I do something wrong? Am I not allowed to ask him questions?”, you asked genuinely worried you crossed a line. 

“Most people, let alone women, don’t care enough to ask us things like you just did.”

“Maybe you two are spending time around the wrong people.”

“Maybe… Damn, Eddie. She’s perfect. Where did you find her because obviously I’ve been looking in the wrong places.”

“Hm. I found her in a coffee shop being yelled at by some asshole. Fucker.”, he growled before you tilted back and kissed his cheek. “It’s not just her personality either. Her body fucking drives me crazy. Even just watching her walk from the bed to the bathroom makes me so fucking hard.”

“Yeah? Your Daddy says you have sexy body. Can you show it to me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable, princess.”, Eddie whispers in your ear.

“Can you help me, Daddy?”

Nodding, he removes each item of your clothing till you were naked for the man on the screen in front of you. 

“Fuck me. I’m not just saying this, Y/N, but you’re so gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”, you groan as you lick your lips. “May I see you?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”, he smirks. 

Your whole body tingled as you watched him undress until you sucked in a sharp intake of air when his cock sprang free from his cotton confinement. 

“He’s so big.”, you murmur against Eddie’s cheek as his eyes remain downcast to focus on you. “How will it fit?”

“We’ll make fit, pretty girl. Steve and I can take care of you.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Little one is worried about your splitting her in half. “

“Don’t worry, honey, I’m a gentleman to. I’m not going to just shove my dick inside of you. Even if it takes hours, we can eat and finger your little pussy till she’s ready.”

“Fuck, Daddy, please.”

Aggressively, Eddie opens your legs wide putting you on display and making Steve groan. 

“Wet already and no one’s even touched you yet.”, he responded mockingly before leaning over his cock to spit on his tip and stroke himself. “How tight is she, Munson?”

You moaned loudly as Eddie inserted two of his thick fingers into your cunt and your head leaned back against him.

“So fucking tight, Harrington, and greedy. Her pussy just sucks me in and chokes my dick when she cums. Add in her sexy little noises and the way her face scrunches…” 

“Open your eyes, Y/N.” Steve smiles when you do what he asks. “Good girl. She listens to. Fuck, baby, don’t take those eyes off me. God, I’m—mmm—I’m dying to feel those pretty lips around my cock.”

“You’re really good at sucking cock, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy. I’m…M’close.”

“I know, pretty girl. I can feel it. Why don’t you tell Stevie how bad you want his cum.”

You mewl as Eddie moves at a faster pace with the sound of your slick echoing around the room. 

“Please, Mr. Harrington, Sir. I-I-I want your cum so much. I want to feel you—ahhhh—feel your cock in my mouth till you spill down my throat.”

“Jesus Christ.”, he grunted and you both watched as his release hit his thigh. 

“You did so good, sweetheart. Cum for Daddy now, baby.”, Eddie praised as your back pushed against his chest and you panted as you came. “That’s my girl. Good girl. Ride it out on my fingers till you come back to me. That’s it.”

“Fucking hell. That was amazing, honey.” Steve watch with fascination as you turned your body and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s chest as you curled into his warm chest. “Everything ok?”

“She’s fine. It’s something baby girl does when she cums hard like that. She’ll squeeze me like a fucking Teddy bear and fall asleep. Sometimes it’s for a few minutes or a few hours. At first I thought it was the headspace but I don’t know. Either way I love it.”

“Yeah, man. If she had a good time and is open to it I have that party coming up in a month. You two can fly down and we can hang out. Of course, nothing has to happen. I can always just show you guys around and get to know her more.”

“I’ll let you know when she wakes up and we talk about it.”

“No problem. No problem. Hey, maybe at most, you and I can fuck around.”, Steve replies as he coyly raises his eyebrows making his friend laugh.

“Ok, calm down over there.”

“Oh, come on. Not like it would be the first time—”

“Good night, asshole.”, Eddie teases as he cuts him off and closes the laptop.

#################

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”, Eddie asks as he watches you fidget with your hands as you stare at your reflection in the metal of the elevator. 

“Yeah. I’m just a little nervous. This is your best friend and I know how much he means to you. I don’t want to…I don’t know…fuck anything up.”

“Fuck, I still think it’s hot when you get all jittery like this.”, he chuckles as he takes your palm in his. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I love you so I know for a fact he will. Just keep being your unique self, baby, and no matter what I’ll be here if you need anything.”

When he flashes you that big toothy grin, you can’t help but smile back as you lean up on your toes to kiss his lips. The doors abruptly swing open and your boyfriend’s demeanor instantly hardens at the sound of loud party guests in the room you both step into. 

Your eyes swing around the area with no sign of the host himself. 

Tugging on Eddie’s bicep, you lead him to the drink station where you desperately chug down some liquid courage as you pray that tonight goes as smoothly as possible.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

WHIPPED

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary - You strain from your husband who will not give you attention. He doesn't like that.

Warnings - NONCON, domestic violence, dub con, manipulative, belt whipping, spanking, tommy is mean, degrading words, breeding kink.

Word count - 3k+

Notes - You voted, you received.

Something in Tommy’s intellect changed overnight. Every once in a while, his mind would travel back in time to the war. But now, when he awoke from his nightmares, he still felt like he was crawling through the tunnels. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up more frequently, his hand rested on his gun a lot. Feeling too skeptical that he’d need to fire it at any second. 

It had impacted your newly wedded marriage, but you didn’t dare to say anything to him. You showed you cared by holding him a little tighter at night. Whilst he laid on the bed like a stone figure, staring up into the ceiling as he refused to fall asleep. 

The sex had turned emotionless like flowers dying without water. The intimacy was dead. It made you down in the mouth and filled your heart with despair. You only wanted to kiss him, talk to him, be held by him. But he had forgotten who you were. 

Over the weeks, your sadness turned into anger. You refused to be upset by his neglect any longer. So, you found other ways to find pleasure in your life and quickly realized that the only way to get your husband’s attention was jealousy. It frustrated Tommy when you started to ignore his presence, venture out without informing him and associating with his family more than him. Tommy would lecture you, wagging his finger at you. You’d only simply nod your head, awaiting for it to be over. Then it would repeat all over again. But Tommy’s mind was too caught up in his business to find the time to truly teach you a lesson. 

Until now, the surprisingly last straw was Arthur whispering something into your ear, resulting in you playfully slapping his shoulder and giggling like a teenager. Tommy’s head snapped to you two, everyone in the reading room still watching Tommy as he awaited for you to acknowledge him. 

After a pause, you finally looked up to Tommy and the stare off commenced. Your eyebrows were furrowed as Tommy’s eyes twitched, he knew you had never been unfaithful. But his mind was now racing with thoughts of the possibility occurring if he didn’t put a stop to his behavior.  

“Well, we will have a break. It seems that my wife has forgotten her manners and I must reteach them…” Tommy declared confidently as he lit another cigarette between his cold lips. 

All heads snapped towards you and Arthur’s face turned beet red. 

“Thomas” you sighed as you pressed your hand to your forehead, cheeks turning a shade darker from embarrassment. 

Any other time, Tommy adored it when you called him by his full name. But this time, he felt as if you were challenging him, trying to humiliate him in front of his family. Tommy took three large strides towards the door and motioned for you to exit in an exaggerated manner. When you merely continued to stare back at him dully he snapped. 

“Get the fuck up!” Tommy raised his voice, causing everyone in the room to flinch. 

Tommy’s eyes were strained, a vein popped out of his forehead as his hands formed to fists. 

“Tommy” Arthur protested, leaning forward in his seat. 

Arthur was always so loyal to Tommy, but grew to be highly protective of you. He was prepared to cop the fire instead, take a beating if he had to. It was his doings anyways, not yours. 

“It’s alright Arthur” you soothed his guilty look, looking confident even though your heart was pounding in shock at your husband’s outburst. 

Tommy saw red when you reassuringly pressed your hand to his chest. Without waiting any longer he marched towards you. You jumped up from your seat before he could yank you up. But he still latched onto your bicep and pulled you out of the room with no care as you winced from his hold. 

“Tommy… You’re hurting me!” You cried as he pulled you up the stairs. 

There was no answer from him. Only the sounds of grunts through his hard expression as he led you to the bedroom. Shoving you into the room, Tommy slammed the door shut and stomped around in circles, his hand tugging at his roots as he heard the shouts and cries of his fallen fellow soldiers. Your arms crossed over your chest, a frustrated expression set on your face by glue. 

“Thomas you’re being dramatic” you pointed out, shaking your head at his behavior. The embarrassment had drenched you completely, he was too furious to notice how awful he had made the situation. 

Tommy’s head shot towards you and he glared at you. 

“Pardon? You parading yourself around my brother in front of my entire family is nothing more than me being dramatic!” Tommy roared as he marched towards you. “Why don’t you fucking respect me!” Tommy yelled, his pale skin now red as he grabbed onto your shoulders in a warning touch. 

His anger spattered onto you as you felt your chest tighten, you scoffed at his words, not intimidated by his hold on you. “Oh calm down Thomas!” You hissed at your husband. 

You fell to the fall before the pain even shot from your cheek. Before the redness even grew on your timid skin. You choked out in shock as you raised your hand to the burning sensation on your cheek. The back of Tommy's hand was still positioned in the air from where he hit you. Tommy had never hit you before, he had vowed to never do it. 

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down” Tommy growled.

Swiftly, he bent down to yank you back up to your feet. When you struggled against his hold and tried to smack him away he hit you again with the front of his hand this time. Then he hit the other cheek just as hard. You screamed out in fear but his hand was swift to smack over your mouth. 

“Who do you fucking think you are? Huh! You wear my name! You’re in my house!” Tommy lectured, shaking you around like a ragdoll before he shoved you back to the ground. 

Tommy went back to walking around in circles, his hand roughly massaged his chin as he wondered what to do with you. His disobedient wife. You laid on the floor, frozen in fear as you stared at his polished shoes twirling around the room. With your hands pressed against your stinging cheeks, tears shedded from your aching eyes. Your sobs were silent and rough. 

A heavy sigh left his lips as he looked down to you. Slowly, he undid his belt and slipped it out of the loops of his pants and folded it in half. Tommy fell back onto the brown leather armchair in the corner of the room and lightly slapped his belt against his knee. 

“Come here, lay over my knee my darling…” Tommy spoke in a soothing voice, but had a wicked grin on his lips. 

You looked up at him with fearful eyes, then your stare was stuck on his belt slapping against his pants. Knowing his intentions, you whimpered out pathetically and shook your head against the floor. 

“N-no” you objected weakly. 

“It wasn’t an offer” Tommy grunted, he leaned towards you, the grip on the leather tightened. “Do it before I show you how strong my foot is” Tommy warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

It took you a moment to get up, you were too busy having a little silent breakdown as you whined at his response. The smirk on his lips grew larger as he watched you gradually crawl towards him, wincing to yourself as you climbed up onto his lap and laid stiff on top of him. 

Tommy sighed as he pulled up your dress, his hand rubbed your ass briefly before he yanked down your panties to your knees. The leather brushed over your backside and you gripped onto his leg in fear as you sobbed quietly. 

“You seemed to have mistaken my kindness for weakness, my darling. I have no problem with showing you my ruthlessness, the many tales you heard of me before we had even met” Tommy explained as he dragged the belt all over your skin. 

“You’re scaring me Tommy” you sniffled out. 

The inside of your throat felt swollen and your chest ached. A harsh slap with the belt landed on your rear. It caused your panicky yelp to echo throughout the room. When you tried to impulsively wiggle yourself off of him he smacked you again with the leather. 

“You’ve lost your privileges to address me by my first name, correct yourself right now!” Tommy ordered, his hold on his belt tight as his free hand went around your back to keep you trapped. 

“Tom-uh Mr Shelby?” You answered unsurely, your expression wincing as your shoulders raised. 

“Good girl!” Tommy praised as the belt smacked against your rear again. 

You chortled out as he continued on with your punishment. Quickly, you lost count with how many times he hit you as he flicked his wrist in a haphazardly manner. Sometimes he’d focus purely on one cheek. Or do slow and heavy smacks across every inch of your skin. Then he’d do quick stings across your rear. 

“Please stop!” you begged, your voice dry and weak, your mouth pressed against his knee as you tried to muffle out your cries. 

“Aw, my darling can’t take it anymore eh?” Tommy chuckled. 

He dropped the belt onto your back and rubbed your tender backside with his bare hand roughly. 

“Please I love you Tommy!” you exhorted, desperately hoping this would ease his suspicions. 

The screech was piercing when he smacked your bruised skin wickedly with his palm. 

“Correct yourself, whore” Tommy spat. 

‘Ah! I love you Mr Shelby” you sobbed out. 

Your head fell back down to his knee, your teeth bit into his leg to silence yourself but he didn't mind. Surprisingly, the pain felt nice to him. 

“That’s a good girl…” Tommy grinned, rubbing your ass again roughly as if he was praising you. “I’m going to beat your ass beyond breaking point. Then I’ll know you’ve learnt your lesson” Tommy addressed. 

“No Mr Shelby please! I understand!” You protested as you squirmed over him. Tommy was quick to hold you on top of him as you tried to swing your body onto the floor. “Please forgive me! I won’t do it again!” You pleaded as you tried to blink back your tears.   

“Stay still before I hit you with the buckle!” Tommy threatened, his words hissing like a viper. 

You mewled out, but listened to his demand. Tommy picked up his belt again and proceeded to whip you with it. 

When your cries had died down and you laid still on him, Tommy dropped the belt to the ground and rubbed your black and blue rear. When his fingers rubbed against your slit, he grinned to himself as he brought them into his sight. They glistered in your fluid and he sucked his fingers clean, moaning to himself at your sweet taste. 

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one that enjoyed this”' Tommy commented as his fingers returned to your cunt, fondling with your folds and teasing your nerves by randomly pushing in a digit. “Have you learnt your lesson?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow to you. 

As you tried to turn your head back towards him, you nodded to him. “Yes Mr Shelby” you spoke out breathlessly. 

“Which is?” He questioned. 

You choked on your words as you blinked back your tears. “To be a good wife to you!”

“Such a good wife…” Tommy soothed as he caressed your bruised ass. “Stand up and strip for your husband” he instructed as he leaned back into his seat. 

Through gritted teeth, you stood on your two feet and slowly stripped till you were completely nude in front of him. Your body shook like a leaf in the wind as you resisted not to cover yourself with your arms. Tommy sighed to himself as he looked your heated figure up and down, and then he pulled out his length and gradually stroked himself a couple of times. Not failing to express how aroused he was through his groans. 

“Come here and sit on my cock eh?” 

“Mr Shelby please” you begged weakly, eyes stinging with discomfort. 

Tommy leaned forward and pointed his finger to you. “Shut up before I change my mind, bend you over and fuck your ass” he warned, his pointed finger completely still. 

You nodded your head like a begging dog and practically ran over to Tommy despite the pain that shot through your rear. You straddled your husband, his hands were on your hips as he grinned up to you, his cock pressed against your inner thigh. 

“Who do you belong to?” Tommy asked as his length pushed into your throbbing, soaked entrance. 

“You Mr Shelby!” You answered through a groan as you slid down his shaft. 

“Good… No more talking to anyone, at all, without my permission eh?” Tommy commanded with a resolute nod. All you could do was nod back as he rocked his hips against yours, his fingernails dug into your flesh as your walls squeezed his size. 

“Mr Shelby” you whined out. 

“You’re mine” Tommy growled animalistically as he leant in to bite your neck. “Only fucking mine. You wanted my attention? You fucking got it” he grunted as he rutted himself deep inside of you. 

Your eyes rolled back as you held onto your husband tightly as he drew blood from your neck. The pain dissolved as the pleasure quickly built up inside of your core. Your mouth had fallen open as you were moaning out shamelessly, Tommy slapped your ass and you squealed. 

“You’re clenching around me so tightly darling, you want to milk me empty eh? Get yourself pregnant?” Tommy asked, his own breathing heavy as he pounded himself into you. 

“Yes Mr Shelby!”

“Keep on squeezing me then, just like that” Tommy coached as his hips thrusted at an immaculate speed. “Maybe another baby in this house would keep you tamed. Let’s give Charlie a little brother or sister eh?” He suggested, a proud smirk on his lips.

All you could do was hum in compliance as you clenched around him. It was so slippery you had to hold your body in place. His balls were slapping against you as you felt your climax climbing as high as it could. The scream from your hot lips echoed throughout the room as you held onto Tommy for dear life. He grunted in response, and shortly followed through with his own climax. 

Your body fell dead on top of him as you tried to catch your breath back. Through deep breaths, your chest rose and fell as your eyes remained shut. Tommy breathed out, his hands caressed your lower back as he inhaled your scent. He was still buried inside of you, he could feel your fluids drip out slowly. 

“Fuck, that was something else, wasn’t it my love?” Tommy asked teasingly as he patted your rear. 

You whimpered, tear stained eyes as you looked up to your husband, he smiled softly to you, you smiled softly back. He guided your hips up, his coated cock slipped out of your swollen entrance with a pop and he helped you onto your feet. 

After he slipped his member back into his pants, Tommy guided you to bend over the bed, you winced as you followed through and he examined you. Down on his knees, Tommy pulled your lips apparent with two fingers as he watched your mixed fluids drip out of you. His hands caressed over your abused skin as he stood back up again.

“If only you could see how beautiful you look my dear” Tommy sighed, his voice dark and husky. 

He pulled you back up and held you in his arms, your flustered body caved against him. Your knees buckled as Tommy held your weak stance up, he murmured to you, his face rubbed against yours like a needy cat.  

“You wanna come down for the rest of the meeting?” Tommy hummed in the crook of your neck. 

The thought of you going back down there frightened you, the humiliation of this sudden occurrence felt too overwhelming. Having all eyes on you would cause you to have a breakdown without a doubt, you knew they heard you, your cries had echoed to the fields. 

“No Mr Shelby” you answered timidly, sniffling to yourself as you tried to cry silently. 

“That’s alright, you rest up, you look exhausted. I’ll come check on you later, I have some business to attend to after this, okay?” Tommy spoke innocently as he led you to the bed. 

Tommy helped you in, you winced at the friction of your rear to the sheets but made no comment to your husband’s kindness. The covers were tucked in around you, Tommy petted your hair to the side and smiled at you. 

“Thank you Mr Shelby” your smile shaked, cheeks still a dark shade of red. 

“Sleep well my love” Tommy whispered before he planted a tender kiss on your lips. 

It’s what you missed so badly, instinctively, your arms reached up from under the sheets and tried to snake around his back. But your body felt so weak, you couldn’t bring yourself up. Tommy hummed and pulled your body up, his hold on your lower back as the sheets slipped down your body already, his tongue slipped straight down your throat as your tongue massaged him. As you moaned directly into his mouth, Tommy pressed your faces together as he gently laid you back onto the bed. 

“I love you” you whispered once more as your head fell deep into the pillow, your tired eyes remained shut. A low hum echoed out of Tommy as you quickly fell asleep. 

Tommy walked back down into the reading room. He knew everyone had heard everything, his eyes locked with Arthur’s. As he shot him a glare, Arthur lowered his head submissively as Tommy continued on with his discussions and concerns to his family.

[kquil]

SIRIUS BLACK | HIS FUTURE WIFE

request : Hi, this is my first time requesting so I don't really know how 😅, but can you write something with Sirius being in love with reader and basically just like jily type of love where he always follows her and calls his future wife — @moonlightwonderland

length : 1.1k

“There’s my girl,” Sirius grins, walking up to you with his arms open as if he was expecting a hug. 

“I’m not your girl, Sirius,” you huff, clutching your books closer to your chest and side stepping, avoiding his arms entirely. It’s been a year since Sirius Black has decided to pursue only you and abandoned his playboy persona. Now he was a committed man. His entire focus has zeroed in on you and you hate it. You hardly used to draw any attention but now, most of the female population at Hogwarts was glaring you down. It’s not your fault Sirius Black decided to turn over a new leaf and made you his primary objective; these girls need to stop making it seem like you forced Sirius to take amortentia. 

But, from the circumstances, you might as well have given him the love potion. He follows you around and does whatever he can to get your attention, even if he makes a fool of himself. He goes out of his way to buy and give you your favourite treats from Honeydukes and helpfully does your bidding wherever, whenever. It would have been a nice gesture when he brought down books from higher shelves for you that one time…if only he didn’t immediately demand a kiss as ‘thanks’ right after. He deserved being hit upside the head for that.   

You just want to be left alone so you wouldn’t have to worry about constantly being stared at by envious girls or gossiping teens who had nothing better to do with their time. 

“My future wife then,” Sirius’s boyish grin grows wider the instant you roll your eyes at him and stomp away, figuring a different route for your journey to class would help you avoid the rebellious teen. But Sirius is unrelenting, following after you with a skip in his step. 

“Stop following me, Sirius,” you groaned and quickened your pace but it was no use. His persistence is challenging and you eventually succumb to his irritable company. 

“But I don’t want to, wifey,” he protests. 

“Don’t call me that, and it doesn’t matter; I want you to leave me alone,‘ you counter. 

“No,”

“Yes,”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Your bickering is commonplace in the hallways and within classes now, although it’s more a legitimate argument for you and Sirius is just playing along. It truly was a mystery to everyone why the Sirius Black, notorious fuckboy and ladies man was suddenly abandoning all that for one girl. Only he knew the real reason. And it was frustrating, especially to you. He can’t just change everything about his mannerisms and force all that attention on you, his good looks, fun personality and enchanting eyes could only absolve him so much. You’d rather be dead before you ever confess that to him, though, it’ll only worsen your situation. 

You did have one saving grace, however. When classes were over, you could find peace and quiet down by the black lake, teetering on the borders of the forbidden forest. This was where you had met your year-long dearest friend, Snuffles. Injured and quivering from the cold, you nursed him back to health a year ago, abandoning your classes for the day so that you could make sure he got better. You knew that dogs weren’t allowed at Hogwarts so you didn’t want to risk anything by taking him to madam Pomfrey. Thankfully, his injuries weren’t too bad at the time and he just needed some company to care for him lovingly. 

“Hello handsome,” you smile upon seeing the familiar black dog through the trees of the forest. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he bounds over with enthusiastic barks and happy tail wags, “I’m happy to see you too boy!” kneeling down, you hug him around his neck and press kisses into his soft fur, “How are we today, hm?” as if he could understand you, Snuffles barks and sits before laying down to rest his head in your lap. 

Cooing at the large beast, you begin your usual pets as you delve into how your day was going, making small jokes and giving the occasional complaint over workload and stress build up. Snuffles gives a gentle whine as he paws at your thigh as if distressed over your worries and you smile warmly. He seems so human, someone that really cares about you and your wellbeing, it was nice to have. 

“Thank you for worrying about me Snuffles,” you muse softly, “but I’m really okay…so long as Sirius Black stays the hell away from me,” you huff in annoyance. It’s only natural that the conversation directs itself to the man in question as he’s made himself a prominent part of your days for the last year, “ugh! He’s so infuriating,” you frown down at the black dog still resting in your lap, “he won’t leave me alone no matter how much I tell him to. He’s been doing it for a year now and I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Today, he actually called me his future wife! What’s that about?!” you groan and push your head back. 

The sky is a pretty blue and you stare at it for a while before you continue, looking down when you feel a significant shift in Snuffles’s postion. The large black dog sits up and leans over to prop his head up on your shoulder and press his muzzle into your neck. He finds a sensitive spot and elicits a dulcet giggle from you, “if only he was as sweet and gentle as you, Snuffles,” you sigh, a small heat climbing up your neck and settling into your cheeks, “maybe then he could finally get me, just like he wants,” Snuffles pulls away and huffs, his version of a subtle sneeze. 

“Excuse you,” you tease, reaching up to scratch at the fur on his neck before you cup his face and bring his nose close so you could boop it with your own. 

“It’s a real shame, though,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around Snuffles’s neck once more and tucking your face into his fur, “his looks are exactly my type…”  Snuffles stiffens under your embrace but you don’t notice, “and he has some good personality traits too…if only he wasn’t so irritating,” there was a stutter in Snuffles’s movement when you lean back and pet his head softly, “you know, he started acting strange like this after I met you, Snuffles…I-” it was just a passing thought but there was a sudden realisation that slowly consumes your features, reflecting primarily in your eyes. It doesn’t help that the large dog before you slowly morphs into the man you were just complaining about. 

“Clever girl,” Sirius grins as he takes your chin in his fingers and pulls you in close, his breath ticking your lips as he continues to whisper, “I expect nothing less from my future wife,”

When he kisses you, sweet but amorously, you kiss back.

a/n : my first request! lets go! i hope i did it justice darling, and i hope everybody enjoyed the read!

navi. | more oneshots

taglist : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @tiensmamains @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @rosaleenablack

[ssahotchnerr]

ALSO ALSO ALSO, Aaron keeping a pair of readers fuzzy socks in his go-bag for reader when a case is rough/they’re in a super cold area/just because 🤭🤭🤭

perfect pair

SCREAMING i'm setting this in the alaska episode it's the first thing my mind went to <33 cw; bau!reader, established relationship, fluff!!!!!

even with the burning fire going, countless chills continuously rushed through your body; you were shaking in place.

upon receiving word the case was in alaska, the customary temperature had been an afterthought. sure, you had packed (some of) your winter trappings; long sleeves, a heavy lined coat, boots. but you hadn't thought to layer, pack a set of gloves or a hat, wool socks rather than your usual cotton ones. rather, the excitement of purely being able to say you're going to alaska, of all places, had taken priority.

even today as you were getting dressed, you managed to talk aaron into lending you one of his favored quarter-zips. 'talk into' was a loose term, he hadn't needed the persuasion; you asked, he immediately accepted - never the one to deny you wearing his clothing, or the extra, provided warmth.

on the bright side, however, you had been hunkered down at the inn with penelope, researching the residents of the small town and not needing to brace the cold. but you might as well been, the heat coming through the air vents wasn't nearly enough, especially when the door frequently opened and the cold air drifted in. the fire was slowly weakening, and just thinking about the cold, made you freezing. the lingering frigidness was numbing your feet within your shoes, your fingers were just as biting - the bitterness was painful.

you were counting down the minutes until the day ended, eager to be warm in the comfort of bed, curled up with aaron 'the furnace' hotchner - the best perk of minimal rooms available and having to double-up. the two of you didn't typically share quarters while on the job, wanting to uphold professionalism, so this was a welcomed treat.

but when aaron had entered (and brought yet another rush of crisp air with him) to regroup with you and penelope, to discuss findings that would contribute to the profile, and hopefully narrow your search down, all he had to do was take one look of you shivering.

aaron walked behind the couch you were seated at, his hand finding your shoulder and giving it a squeeze hello, before heading up the stairs. at the gesture, you were quick to look up and acknowledge him, giving him a soft smile before your attention returned to penelope's screen.

aaron came back down a minute or two later, lightly tossing something onto your lap. it landed softly, but you still jumped a smidge, taking you by surprise.

you were met with your polka-dot fuzzy socks, a pair you hadn't seen in your drawer quite in a while, actually. your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity, grabbing the soft sherpa material and turning the pair over, analyzing as if you've never seen them before.

"you had these?" your eyes shot back up to aaron, arching an eyebrow in an accusatory, but playful, manner. the ends of your lips tugged upwards in a smile, your heart warming.

"given the circumstances, i'm sure you're glad i did." aaron's face matched your cheeky expression, a light smirk on his face. but he dropped the teasing demeanor, his gentleness returning, "i packed them into my go-bag a while ago. i figured they come in handy in one way or another, at some point. for comfort, warmth, when your ice cold feet touch my leg at night." his eyes smiled at you, and you couldn't help but grin.

aaron's immense, loving look was enough to melt everything in you, physically warming you. the sensation started in the middle of your chest, fanning out to the rest of your body, leaving you toasty and almost giddy.

forget the socks, layers, fireplace - all you needed was aaron.

"god that's adorable." penelope chimed in, who had been listening so quietly you'd forgotten she was there, a slight whine present in her voice, "never thought i'd be crying over a pair of socks, but here we are."

she turned back to her laptop, but her fingers paused above the keyboard, as thought came to her. her gaze drifted back towards you and aaron, a tickled glint in her eyes. "wait, i take that back. you two are the most, adorable pair."

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Blood-Stained Wool Spun At Midnight (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Werewolf!Ghost x F!Tailor!Reader (Set in Van Helsing Era/Aesthetic)

WORDCOUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, angst, mutilation, violence, death, being hunted, reference to unwanted attention from a man, 1890s period standards for men/women, religious references, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Miriam?” Your voice carries over the open street, one of the two small steps leading into your nonexistent front yard firm under your feet. Across the way and one house to the left, your older neighbor, Miriam, readies her horse for you—kept behind the paddock door of her attached single-stall stable. Men and women shuffle past along the cobblestone, clopping hooves and tipping soft caps. Giggles and gloved fingers. 

The city is lively today, and you’ll be glad to be out of it for the better part of the morning.

You brush down the front of your shirtwaist, patting at the pleating along the front before folding your shawl across your shoulders; hiking it farther into your high-collared garment. 

“Miriam!” You call again, shuffling down that last step and trying to shove yourself farther into the crowd. Keeping your black skirt close to you, you sigh long and pray the pouch at your side will stay away from the hands of pickpockets—a tailor gets off well enough, but every penny was worth it. One setback could ruin you.

Which was the reason you were now making your way into the country on your neighbor's horse. 

Miriam glances up from where she fiddles with the bridle strap, her head mixed in with the masses. You smile, raising a hand far above the sea as men sneer down at you, hearing the tinkling bells of her laughter. 

You make it to her and Whistlejacket the Thoroughbred as you huff, rubbing your gloved hands together before the clicking sound of your heeled shoes can catch up to your ears.

“By the Lord, it’s chilly, Love,” Miriam utters, patting the horse as you softly rub the animal's neck. Black ears twitch to you, chestnut eyes soft and pliable. You smile before replying with a chuckle. 

“And the chill won’t stop Mrs. Ida from having my hide for that wool-lined cycling jacket, unfortunately.” 

“Ah,” Miriam scoffs, “Mrs. Ida. I’d tell that one to mind her manners to the fine lady who makes her husband's waistcoats.” 

“She always asks for them a size small,” you hum, rummaging through your satchel to make sure you have the money you need for the wool that’ll go inside the order. “One with more of a brain would say she was trying to say something.” 

Your eyes glimmer as you send your neighbor a glance. Miriam slides you a cheesy look.

“‘More of a brain’, the girl says,” she mutters as you laugh brightly. “A wonder you’ve not found a husband yet.”

You ignore the comment, sliding down Whistlejacket’s side to slip your foot into the stirrup, huffing at the beast’s size before shimmying up with all the grace of a young hooligan. Panting on the saddle, both legs over one side on account of your skirt, you take a breath and happen to glance at the dark house that borders Miriams.

“Miriam?” The words escape you in a moment of curiosity. “Pray tell…is Mr. Riley back from his trip to London yet?”

Mr. Riley—Simon as you know him to be called by only a whispered passing. It was apparent with your little…interest in him. It wasn’t a carnal interest, no, God forbid, it was a hesitant need to understand him. 

You’d never sown nor mended so many clothes than to his own collection. 

Frock coats, waistcoats, shirts, ties, and trousers all—ripped to shreds before being placed on your counter like it didn’t matter a smidge. And those deep brown eyes of his…endless; seemingly incapable of human emotion above the tight layer of silk that the man wears up to his nose. There was something strange going on with Mr. Riley, and you were determined to figure it out, but he was also quite alluring to you in a simpler sense. 

You liked how he spoke to you.

“London?” Miriam asks, putting a hand to her wrinkling chin. “My, was that where he was off to—how do you hear about these things, Girl?”

You clear your throat, putting back on your smile. “Oh, never mind that. I was just curious, see.”

Whistlejacket’s feet shuffle from under you, the tall beast’s strength seen through his broad neck and well-bred attitude. Miriam’s husband had been a carriage driver, and when he died, the widow had taken Whistlejacket into her care as the only living family she had. 

You rub at his neck again, and the horse nods his head up and down, knickering. 

“You’ll take care of the old fellow, then?” The question is layered, anyone going through the forest to the farmer’s fields knows that the shadows grow long. 

Knows what can hunt you. 

You glance at the woman, nodding firmly. “And bring you back your share for taking the lovely creature out.” 

With that you’re out, taking the reins in your hands before easing Whistlejacket into a walk and entering the flow of traffic; waving a hand behind you in goodbye. Miriam calls on the smoggy wind.

“D-don’t stray from the path, Love!” 

A path wouldn’t save you from the Ghost.

—

It is the year 1897, and beasts live here. 

They roam in the dark corners and the forgotten alleys of every city and street—silent, unseen. Waiting to strike with white fangs or sharp claws; a snarl or a whisper. Vampires, demons, specters lost to time…Werewolves. 

Nowhere was safe, and so, the world had to adapt. 

As Whistlejacket’s hooves meet the slowly depleting cobblestone of the outer city, the clink of the metal bit dances in your ears; your face roves back and forth through the fields, those far in between houses. In your bag, you have more than just money. 

Holy water, a crucifix, and, of course, a knife made of pure silver. When in doubt, silver was always the safest bet.

But the forest…the forest was unpredictable. 

You breathe slowly as it comes into view hours later, those creaking branches and the breeze that speaks to you—in your head, you hear the plea. Or the threat. 

Turn back. 

The both of you stop only a foot from the treeline. Whistlejacket knickers, feet shuffling. Your hand finds his hide, rubbing soothing circles as your lips thin. 

“Easy,” you whisper, but nothing could be farther from easy. Your fingers brush through the horse's hair as he moves his head, hooves taking a step back. “Easy.”

The blackness of this forest is unnatural—the others in the city and town go around it; a four-day trip. You didn’t have four days. Like a moth to a dark altar flame, the oblivion takes you in and the forest expands in your view the longer you stare into it, down that path of overgrown grass and gravel. Rocks and twigs. 

With one hand you grab at your shawl and pull it closer to your neck, holding the reins lightly as your fingers twitch around them with the other. 

“Easy,” you say for a third time, quickly looking away from the path and clearing your throat. 

Clicking your tongue, your boots tap Whistlejacket’s side and after a puff from his large nostrils, the animal ambles forward, far slower than he had before but still moving nonetheless. Your hesitance bleeds into him, and you know the horse's senses are far better than your own.

But you were stubborn—you’d come too far to go back now, and if you wanted to be home by supper you had to buy the wool you needed and leave as quickly as possible. Going through this forest would take up most of that time. 

The trees enshroud you, and in their brimstone grip, they reach with gnarled fingers like a leering phantom. You lean to the side to avoid one branch, feeling it pull at your shaul slightly; trying to grab at you, it seemed. This place would devour you whole, but you were less scared of the general aura and more of the fabled monster that patrols this place. 

The Ghost.

Whistlejacket is unsure of this, despite the journeys you’d both been on. It always worried you how such a large carriage animal could still get so nervous after years of desensitization—the horse didn’t flinch at the yells from the city; or the howl of mutts at midnight. But this brimstone forest made him shiver under you like a child in the cold.

As you speak to him lowly, your hand reaches into your satchel and grasps that tiny silver blade, attaching it to your cinched belt as your skirt sways in a dead breeze. A chilled puff of air falls from your lips, though there is no coldness in these standing sentinels—it is a dead-like atmosphere. Every pound of your heart can be heard. 

“You know, old fellow,” Whistlejacket’s ear twitches back to you, but his eyes do not leave the path. You spare a tense chuckle. “I’ve half the sense to tell Mrs. Ida to shove that wool lining right up her—”

Something sharp echoes far off into the trees and you pull on the reins with a tight breath. 

Whistlejacket squeals, trying to bolt, but you keep a strong hand on him—eyes flashing from one dark void to the next in between the trees as his hooves dance. Your head bobs with every jerk of his legs, yet you barely notice it. 

A twig? You ask, heart hammering. No, no that sounded like an entire tree getting snapped in half.

Eyes glancing over your shoulder, you look back down the road and find the tiny speck of light that signifies the exit of this place, the last glimmer of home. With a heavy look around, you close your eyes and shake your head. 

Mrs. Ida was…something else…but she was one of your best clients for all her abhorrent behaviors—money was tight as of currently, and the woman’s husband was incredibly rich due to his practice as a physician. This wool was needed not only for the jacket but for your shop upkeep and the price of fabrics, needles, and threads. This wool was an investment you couldn’t miss.

“Whistlejacket,” you click your tongue but the animal snorts and shakes his head, backing up. “Whistlejacket!” Your voice carries despite not even being above a hard whisper. 

“I promise you, when we get to the farm I’ll let you eat all of the sugar cubes you want—my treat.” Your hand finds the space between his ears and below his skull, the soft black mane twisting in your fingers. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Your eyes are half-narrowed. 

That wasn’t a twig.

Monster Hunting was a booming profession—and many took to it out of glory or need for coin. Those hunters had been in and out of this forest for short generations, trying futilely to catch what was rumored to lurk here before they got ripped to shreds like their fathers had. 

The Ghost. 

Some say he stands over nine feet tall; and has fangs that are bigger than a man’s palm—claws like butcher knives. Blackened and dead is his brain, cruel and maniacal. 

The Werewolf’s heart is chained to hell, and his soul to Satan. He is cursed ever to walk like a beast and feast on human flesh while in his wolf-skin and out of it. 

A ghost.

The Ghost.

You close your eyes tightly, trying not to imagine the stench of blood or the injuries you’d seen those hunters bore—being dragged back into the city screaming and wailing in pain. Arms and legs ripped clean off, never to be found. Most never came back at all.

“Please, Whistlejacket,” you plead, bumping your forehead into his neck. Whispering into his skin, you take a deep breath. “We need to go on. Quickly. We can’t stop here.”

Stopping was making a bigger target on your back—letting your scent linger in the stale air. 

With one last whinny, his fast flinching feet, the horse pushes forward as you click your tongue again; faster and more uneasy. But you didn’t slow him, no, if Whistlejacket was going to speed up, you were completely fine with that.

Moving again, you loose a sigh from your lips. 

There were many dark stories living here, some too heavy to tell aloud, even—one specifically was the tale that you’d overheard in your shop while helping Mr. Riley fix a large hole in his waistcoat. 

Riding along the path, you guide your steed down a small indent, blinking at the images your mind conjures up. 

Mr. Riley had been far quieter that day than in the recent past, and you thought perhaps he was beginning to warm to you after a few long months of silence and clipped business talk. That day, though, you had your doubts. 

Mr. Moore and Mr. Hill were coming in to inquire about the state of their overalls, working-class both and eager to have their second pair of articles fixed. Mr. Riley had been there first, and thus, you’d been talking to him for the better part of ten minutes.

“Mr. Riley,” you’d explained, holding his black silk waistcoat in your hands while opening and closing your lips. “I…I really must begin by asking how exactly you manage to do this to your clothes. In good faith, I half-believe you have a habit of getting into bar fights with a knife-wielding fiend in your free time.”

Brown eyes had stared at you above that cloth of his, soft cap on his head protecting blond tendrils of hair. Scars peel at his skin, old and pale. 

You’d never been afraid of him, despite his large frame and his intimidating muscle—the gruff aggressiveness of his tone. It was strange, but you had a feeling he would never do anything nefarious…perhaps his morals shone through far better than his conversational abilities.

“Can you fix it or not?” He grunts in question, hands in his pockets. Eyelids blink at you slowly, long lashes caressing flesh. 

You roll your eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I can.”

In that intermission of silence, you’d heard the words from the men behind Mr. Riley—missing the spark of amusement that had coated those brown orbs as they watched you. 

“Did you ‘ere, then, Mr. Hill?” A sharp, hurried whisper. Your eyes blink at the two as the man ahead of you slightly shifts his shoulders, tilting his head to the side to stare behind him. “There’s been killin' in the East district—they’re callin’ the ‘unters in, see.”

“Hunters?” Mr. Moore huffs. “They’ll not make a smidge of a difference now. I’ve heard about it—they say the Ghost slunk in from the Forest and ripped the man to pieces.”

“Aye! They found pieces of flesh hangin’ off the shop signs. Like he’d been put through a machine, I hear. Half a jaw was left in the street, an eye leading into the trees, and…and…”

“Gentleman,” you call, oblivious to how Mr. Riley is as tense as a rope, eyes small and tight on the two men. He barely breathes. 

The two look to you as if being caught by their mothers. You frown. “Time and place.”

“Sorry, Ma’am.”

“M’sorry, Miss, lost myself.” You smile through a sigh and turn back to Mr. Riley. 

“Well, now then, I…” He quickly walks to the door, boots heavy and knee-length frock coat swishing as he pushes open the barrier and slips through. You gape, confused for a moment. By the time you think about opening your mouth again, you can already see him entering his own house across the street and pulling the door closed firmly.

The curtains close. Black night leaking out around the illumination of the oiled street lamps. It was the news in the morning that called to the true horror that you’d overheard in your shop. 

Mr. Lambert was never your favorite patron, in fact, you’d call him a creep at best—insistent on marriage to you and a hazard, considering that your home was connected to your shop. He knew exactly where you lived and when to use your time in his less-than-pure favor. 

Mr. Riley had been a natural deterrent in recent months, but what really struck you was that the brown-eyed man had managed to show up exactly when you needed him regarding Mr. Lambert. The small silver bell above your door rang his arrival whenever the other was trying to lean over your counter, smiling sweetly at you as if you were a prize to him and his leering eyes. 

Mr. Lambert would instantly straighten, tense, and dart away with a metaphorical tail between his legs while shooting nasty glances. 

But you’d never imagined him to be dead.

You’d never imagined his body to be hung from the trees that border the forest like a trophy—the Ghost had dragged him out of his home, the door busted off its hinges, and the inside all but demolished by fighting bodies. Neighbors said they’d heard howls on the wind; yowling and wet snarls like a rabid dog. 

Mr. Lambert was mutilated. Unrecognizable mass of flesh and hair, bone seen through shredded skin and tongue lulling from a ripped-off jaw. One eye and a branch through his toro to hold him up.

Now halfway through the forest, in the densest bit of trees, you can’t help but imagine becoming just like him.

You hadn’t spoken besides to reassure Whistlejacket, yet the fact was that you couldn't even reassure yourself—like a child, you cling to the animal below you and try to ignore the murmurs. Your shawl had been pulled up and over your head, creating a sound barrier for you that truly did nothing to help. 

Looking slightly to the side at a large and moss-layered boulder beside the path, you shiver not from the cold. 

“Maybe I should have just waited the four days…” Your whisper leaked out, and it seemed a sin to break the silence that had been layered here. 

A shadow filters past the side of your eyes, a silent motion atop the boulder that you think perhaps is a crow. You pull at your shawl to show your face a bit more, turning your head upward. 

Atop the stone is not a bird—it is not an animal of natural birth or of sound mind. It is a beast of ancient rites and white-fanged dreams; left here among the living in a sick game of predator and prey. 

You don’t register that it’s really there, the Ghost, until its blackened form stands to its full height, great shaggy fur under the remains of clothes scraps, and muzzle curled to show off fangs and pink gums. There are his ears, atop that head; they point to the sky before flinching back to staple themselves to its elongated skull. Long hands that scrape the stone below it near the claws that dig into the rock until they make long scratches. 

Like a demon made flesh, this Werewolf was the epitome of nightmares. So strangely human and monster at the same time. 

Eyes like a burial mound. 

You stare in numb horror, gloved hands steadily tightening over the leather reigns until your knuckles pop. Whistlejacket does not yet know the beast is here, glaring into your soul and branding it; taking a large step closer to the edge of the boulder as the moss flakes under his egregious large paw-pads. 

A low rumble is all it takes, those pupils small and beady, from within the breast of the Ghost’s expansive chest. Whistlejacket’s nose sniffs the air, his head turning and already tense. 

The horse screams like a dying banshee, spine curling and legs kicking out. He bucks as the Werewolf snarls through a loud howl, all four limbs connected to the stone and roaring. Your back slams into the ground as you’re tossed off Whistlejacket, your mouth releasing a scream to join the rest of the noises that echo off the foliage. 

Crashing into the path, your neighbor's horse disappears with one last high-pitched squeal into the darkness as you feel your bones rattle at the connection to your spine. Tumbling down a slight hill, you quickly get your skirts in order before scrambling to your feet with pain brimming in your scraped skin. Looking back to the boulder, your pounding heart rampages. 

But the Ghost isn’t even there. 

“Oh, Lord Almighty,” you whisper, backing up multiple steps. “Oh, Lord.” 

The blade is missing from your belt—you don’t know where you’ve dropped it in the fall and that might just be the death of you. Mr. Lambert’s story infects you; the other hunters.

You frantically look at that mighty stone, up and down, while skittering backward. 

Where did it go? 

Panting, you only stop when you hit the firm frame behind you, a large tree trunk of fur, and a hard chest that you sink into. You freeze—eyes wide and unblinking. A thin squeak exits your mouth, and a reverberating call purrs over your vertebra, making you shiver with fear. 

Minutes draw before you gather the courage to delicately turn your head upward.

Those eyes meet yours again, small and coated over with rage; pale fangs so close to your forehead they’re like ivory with dripping saliva. One drop hits your flesh, but you fail to register it. 

Those eyes. 

Up close you’re completely stolen by them, sucked in and whisked away as a bride, this mixture of dark wood and earth. Brown so rich you’d never seen something like it…or…or had you?

Incredibly, in between your panic, something sparks you as being familiar in a way you can’t quite place in this state. 

The Ghost is gargantuanly large, so much so that he bends his spine to lean over your entire body and growl down at you, the sound starting in his gut and expanding up to his throat. The fur around his neck is so thick it’s like the mane of an exotic cat, ironically, as tufts of hair are on the tips of his ears. 

You stare and try to memorize the look in his eyes as clawed hands come up at your sides, horrifyingly human with long fingers; five-pointed except for the fact that the skin is blacked like hide. Sweating, you shake before your lips start talking for you, as they usually do. 

“I do hope I’m not intruding, Kind Ghost.”

The beast halts his slow entrapment, right ear twitching forward at your voice. He doesn’t blink, and his mouth does not close. 

“I…I only wished for safe passage.” Internally you wonder if you’d lost your mind—if it had broken in this moment of hysterics. Your voice is far more steady than it should be. “I must get to the other side of the forest, you see. Urgently. I have business that must be settled. Though,” you add quickly, tone cracking for a moment. “Though, I knew not how to contact you to ask.”

The Werewolf’s heart can be felt on your back, a deep thum of pulsing power and raw death. It watches, its mouth twitching a smidge more closed and lungs rising. Its feral heat leaks through your clothes into your flesh. 

A furred hand connects with your hip and you squawk as you’re shoved to the ground very suddenly, thrown to the side onto the grass with only your palms to catch you. You’re flipped over, those same claws slamming beside your head before you can push back up and try to run. But there could be no running. Like a moth to flame the Ghost would hunt you down until there was nothing left of you but bloodied carnage. 

You throw up your hands in front of your face, the great form splayed over you and a sniffing nose digging into your stomach. There is a low whine of a hungry maw as the shaggy head moves up and around. Like a human, the Werewolf’s hand grabs at your wrist, pinning it down to the ground as the other digs into the earth, dragging it up like a farmer’s plough. 

 “H-hey!” You shout, pushing with your free fingers at the muzzle—in sound mind, you’d never even think to do such a thing. “Get off of me!” 

You should have been terrified, and maybe you were, but you’d gone past the point of knowing it. This beast was leering over you like Mr. Lambert, but far more dangerous and…and…

“Are you smelling me?!” Your angry voice makes his dark eyes snap to yours, and in an instant, you’re staring up his muzzle, body splayed out below him. 

You shutter.

“Eh…Just don't…rip anything, would you?” You were talking to a Werewolf as if he was capable of higher understanding in this form—as if still human. Voice small, you thin your lips and feel sweat run your eyebrow ridge, heart pitter-pattering. 

Why were you still alive?

The snout resumes, running along your shoulder and finally stopping at your neck with a pass of the Ghost’s tongue over his lips. You close your eyes tight.

This was it, you think. Of course, you’d be the one to lose the only blade that could let you actually damage this monster, the silver glinting in your mind as you curse yourself violently. You feel the puff of his vile breath on your neck, his claws peeling at your shirt collar slowly back. 

Your breath hitches, fingers winding through the fur below your grip, but the confusion breeds with the horror. The sensation of his soft fur wasn’t unpleasant—in fact, it was perhaps the finest material you’d ever handled. While it wasn’t the time for this, your occupation was impossible to ignore…this texture was far better than any silk.

But he’s stopped moving entirely. Lids fluttering, you open your eyes slowly, afraid but addled at the inaction. 

Brown side-eyes you closely, fangs dripping next to the meat of your neck and parted to show a lulling tongue. The beast purrs as you stare, looming with enough mass to block the sun and moving that muzzle closer to your pulse. In an act of pure desperation and womanly instinct at the sight, you snap out your leg and, not hesitating a moment longer as the animal’s tongue meets your flesh, you send your shoe straight in between the monster's legs.

A sharp yowl makes your ears ring, but you slip out from under the Ghost as it banks back, snarling and yapping before it rights itself with a shake and rabid hunger. The look from before is gone—but you’re already through the trees by the time the enraged hunting cry makes your neck hairs rise. 

Guttural, savage, and devoid of humanity. 

On the path you find your blade, and you snatch it as you gather your skirt in the opposite hand and dash away. To where, you have to tell yourself, you do not know. But it’s human nature to run, to sprint until your throat tastes like blood and your stomach rolls with bile—all of that can be tolerated if for the simple promise of survival. 

So run you did. 

Faster and harder than you ever had in your life, you sprinted into the brimstone trees and the dead thorns, not looking over your shoulder at the noises of snarls and breaking tree trunks; claws through the earth, and the primal howl of a hunt. Your throat is raw and scraping, clothes thoroughly ruined as you crash through a thorn bush while cutting up your arms and legs in tiny streaks of crimson. 

Droplets make a path behind you, a path, and a scent to tell you by. But with how the Ghost had been smelling you too deeply, you doubted it would be long before he tracked you down to finish the job.

You lose a shoe in the mad dash, lungs heaving and whimpering from the sudden absence of sounds entirely—as if the beast had disappeared into thin air. Still, you don’t brave a glace behind as you take turns and bends in the earth at random, running deeper and deeper into the foliage. 

Bloodied and running out of strength as you hop a small stream, yelping when you slip and bash your wrist into the ground, you had never wished for Whistlejacket more. All you could hope was that the horse was making his way out the other side of this hellscape. 

You never should have come through here.

Tears stain your eyes, blurring the edges as you manage to run into a small clearing, head whipping back and forth from one area to another. Every turn was the same—every tree similar! 

But the house was different. 

No more than a hut, really, it was stone and had a thatched roof, nestled in a field of black flowers and wisps of dead grass. The door was opened, but the ground was torn up by claw marks—spanning up the sides and near a broken widow.

You rush to it without a blink, and just as you make it to the threshold, you grab the thick oak door with your torn gloves. Turning, you find him across the open glade. 

Air is shoved from your lungs as you wheeze, the black shadow in the tree line. Brown eyes burn past flesh and bone—beady. Twitching lips and high-pointed ankles with rising fur. It was like a statue. Not even moving; barely breathing as it…watches. 

What had happened to the snarling—the howling hunt?

Had…had he been behind you the entire time?

You whip the door closed and frantically slam the bolt in place, the blade brought to your side and shaking in your tight hold as you back up quickly. 

“Oh, Miriam, damn you, you’re always right.” You gasp, back hitting the edge of a table. “Curse me for never listening.” 

Your neighbor had expressed worries the day before your departure, but you’d been stubborn as always—wool, you said you needed. Just enough for a coat. It was nothing; nothing that should have led to this. 

You feel like passing out, bile rising into your throat before you swallow it back down and breathe in quick heaves. 

But the door didn’t cave in, and no great monster barreled through to eat you up and pin you into a tree branch. The house settled, the minutes dragged on…

…and nothing happened. 

Your heart slowly goes back to a hesitant normal, like a mouse after being chased by a hawk; a lamb by a wolf. Standing up straighter with blood saturating your clothes, the uneven strides of your shoe-less foot mean little to you as your form slinks to the broken window. You don’t feel the pain in your cuts—the sweat or dirt—before you bend down and hiss at the stretching flesh.

Knees knocking on the floor, you peek above the sill slowly, eyes wide open and tiny pupils quivering. 

“Why didn’t it come into the glade?” You ask yourself, seeing the large shadow in the far-off coverage of the dropping leaves. A steadily dying sun. You weren’t making it back home tonight. “Why is it staying away—it knows I’m in here.”

Surely it wouldn’t let you live? 

Your brows tighten, swearing there are eyes looking back at you through the kaleidoscope reflections of the glass. You duck down, vibrating as your vision runs across the strange hut.

One room, it only held a table, a tiny desk, a trunk, and a bed. A fireplace with no logs. Dust lived in the corners, and candles that were unlit were melted in plates and cups all around your view—score of them as if the dark was something the owner feared vehemently. 

This would be your sanctuary for the night. 

“Do Werewolves not come upon hallow ground?” Your voice bounces off the stone. “Was this a priest's hut?”

If there was a church nearby in this damned place, that would truly be the best scenario. Churches held hunters more often than not. 

Standing, you walk the space, feet aching as the adrenaline wears off and it all sets in. You place your blade into your belt, but your fingers never leave the pommel. First, you go to the desk, picking through letters and thin papers. 

Blinking, you pass them over in favor of the journal, the one next to the hastily thrown down quill—the spilled ink. 

Your hand touches the leather and flips it open, ears peeled for any noise from outside. The drawings come into focus quite quickly. 

Diagrams and intense study fill your brain, images of the Ghost sketched so lifelike that you flinch back and physically recoil until you gather your bearings. 

“I don’t suppose this would be of any help,” you utter with a frown. “Will it tell me how to make silver bullets? Give me a revolver?” 

Shaking your head, you close the journal before the faded name on the cover register—you walk away slowly before you halt. 

"Simon Riley."

Your heart tightens and those brown orbs come back to you. It’s like your mind expands in a millisecond.

Simon Riley and his frequent trips out of the city. Simon Riley and his shredded clothes exactly like the ones that the beast wears. Simon Riley and his silent, black, soul. His secrets.

“No,” you try to convince yourself, chuckling as your panic spikes. Every interaction whizzes past with surety. “No, that’s not possible. I couldn't have been that inept when he was right in front of me.” 

Anger pierces you, and all sense leaves. You know it to be true, know it to be the reality even if you'd just put the pieces together yourself. This was too perfect that God himself must have come down and laid it out for you to find.

In a moment of raw rage, you stomp to the door—hand snapping to the bolt and reaming it back. The outside chill makes you growl, but you exit the hut nonetheless. It was like a spit in your face.

“Simon Riley!” You scream into the air, hand in fists. “Get your arse out here and explain to me why I’ve been fixing your fucking clothes while you’ve been galivanting around the bloody forest!” 

Call you insane, but seeing your work constantly ruined made you more mad than being chased like an animal, especially if this animal had no intention of killing you. He'd had the option, but he hadn't.

That only serves to make you even more angry.

Your finger points into the tree line. “I spend my God-given time to make them perfect for you, and this is how you repay me?” A rustling from the bush to your left. You snarl and turn to find the upright form as it blinks at you, muzzle closed and ears forward. It steps out into the grass with one paw before you brandish your blade at it.

The Werewolf freezes, a low warning growl rumbling in his chest.

“I’m going to rip that damn fur from your body and teach you what it’s like to have your practice insulted, you twat.” Those eyes don’t stray, just like they never had in your shop. 

Yet there was a more primal tint to them—more wild, unrestrained. Aggressive. 

The monster stalks forward with slow and heavy steps, walking up to you until it can once more stare you down. You take down a shaky breath and press your knife into his abdomen as fur encompasses your field of view. 

Your confidence wavers.

“D-don’t you know it’s rude to chase down a lady in her travel shoes?” 

A snarl grinds itself out in cut intervals as if he were trying to speak to you, snapping fangs and tilting head. You have somewhat of an idea of what it means.

“I’m not apologizing for kicking you in the balls, Mr. Riley. You deserved it.” You lower the knife from his abdomen. 

A nose pushes itself into your neck again before you shove him off with a curse. He doesn’t even flinch before he tries once more.

“Would you quit it?!” You yell, scoffing. “What in the devil is wrong with you?” 

It was like he was trying to rub his head all over you—as if nothing but a dog scenting a bone.

Isn’t he? Your lips thinned. It wasn’t foreign to think he wasn’t in the right state like this. Of course, he wasn’t. Mr. Riley would never act like this, even with how often you saw each other.

Lord, you didn’t even know if he liked you that much, but judging by whatever this is, it happened to be quite a bit. You huff and push him back with a scene of finality, slithering backwards into the hut before slamming the door. 

There’s a low grumble from outside, the barrier shaking as a large paw presses on it with immense force. 

“No!” You order, pulse running. “No—you figure yourself out first! I’m not letting you in like that.” 

The sudden enraged roar is so loud the broken window shakes. It makes your veins quiver under your skin. But there's a heavy slam of leaving feet moments later, the sound of screeching trees as branches are bent back. 

You pause and stand straighter after a long minute. Your lungs inhale.

“It listens better than the man,” you breathe, feeling weak. Bravery was tiring. 

Yet, there was still the problem of the dead.

Simon Riley was the Ghost—a Werewolf. He’d killed people, many, many people in these trees. 

You grab at your neck softly, the scent of earth and blood stuck under your fingertips, infecting your very soul. 

“...So why didn’t he kill me?”

—

You helped yourself to the clothes in Mr. Riley’s trunk, taking what you could find and slipping into it for bed. It was nothing more than a large undershirt and pants, but you wouldn’t be the one complaining. Luck was back on your side, as you also found a small package of bandages and matches. 

Lighting the candles one by one, afterward, you did what you could for your wounds. You weren’t keen on traveling to find water to clean them out, so, for now, a wrapping would have to do. 

The beast patrolled the glade. 

You’d hear him occasionally bend by the door, shadowing along the crack before there was a tapping of claws on stone and a huff of hot breath. He’d always leave you unaccosted, a smacking of gums and licking of chops heard through the cracked window before the dog darts away. 

Where fear had been previously, curiosity starkly remained at the forefront. 

“Simon Riley,” you mutter, sitting on the edge of his bed after that same event that had happened not an hour earlier. And the same an hour before that. Clockwork. 

A wolf stalking his hunting grounds, making sure all is where it’s supposed to be.

He smells you in here. 

“It’s too damn late for this,” you huff, rubbing at your face. Ideally, you’d like a bath and a hot meal, but there was no supper here. No food at all, really. 

You plop down into the feather pillow, face nuzzling into the deep scent that you remember smelling from Mr. Riley as he came into your tailor’s shop. This was demented—unholy action. 

If this were a different woman in this bed, she might be praying to her God for some salvation, an angel to come down and whisk her away. But the thought is like a stake in your heart. 

If there were a different woman in this bed…would she even be breathing as you were?

You shiver and burrow deeper into the covers, pulling them up to your chin. For whatever reason, Simon Riley, the Ghost, had stayed his fangs from your supple flesh; now you weren’t even sure that when he was leaning over you he had any intention to hurt you at all. He had seemed like he was…waiting for something.

Simon Riley, your neighbor. 

Your neighbor the Werewolf. 

You groan and hold yourself in the candle-light, unsure. You’d heard the tales—the murders. Mr. Lambert. Those countless hunters mutilated. Like a child, you pull sparse memories that bring it all to light.

Mr. Riley was quite the gentleman when you happened to catch him. 

There was never a time when you had to carry in your own fabric shipments—he was always outside to grab them before you could get one hand on the carriage compartment; it all seemed like lifting a feather. You’d speak to him about his day and his trips to the bigger cities that he always frequented. 

He’d told you it was because of his business, and you’d refrained from asking what exactly it was that allowed him to purchase such exquisite clothes—or even how they always ended up ruined. 

As your eyes flutter in this bed full of long black hair, you sigh and listen to the howls from far off in the distance; shivering.

“Where do you need ‘em, then?” The accent was aggressive, yes, but the tone was casual. You smile over at Mr. Riley and see the large trunk in his hands as the carriage leaves outside. 

“I don’t know,” you tease, “But I think you look quite dashing being such a ready and willing neighbor, Sir.” 

“That it?” He raises an eyebrow, but no expression slashes his visible face. To even get that was something to celebrate. 

You raise a hand and wave him behind your counter, chuckling. 

“I jest, Mr. Riley. Right back here the same as always.” He wordlessly ambles forward, feet heavy upon your wooden floors. 

You smell the scent of fresh earth as he passes, and your fingers twitch at your sides. Clearing your throat, you ask easily as the man strangely flinches as he brushes your arm, eyes flicking just a smidge wider. 

“Any more travels this month, then? I am a bit curious to hear about where you’ll be off to this time.” 

“London,” is a swift answer. Brown eyes glance at you as the trunk is set down with a puff of breath in the space below the shelves. “Ever been?”

You shrug. 

“No, unfortunately.” Simon stands to his full height, hands finding the insides of his pockets. You should be hesitant of his stature—his great shoulders—but you find it suits him. He tilts his head at you, his cap off today to let his wisps of hair collect at his temple. “You?”

Mr. Riley grunts, feet shifting. 

“Quite a few.” He blinks slowly. “Not missin’ much. Bloody filthy.” 

You laugh and tilt your head down, staring at the floor for a moment as your cheeks heat up. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” 

Simon puffs a sound of amusement, looking you up and down. He stares at your waist before he hums. 

“That a new one?” You look down at your corset above your blouse, putting a hand above the embroidery and nodding earnestly, touched that he’d seen it. Mr. Riley was far more in tune with his surroundings than others. 

“Yes, had a horrible time with the designs—I’m not quite sure I like it yet.” 

“It’s nice.” The man seems just as surprised about his quick outburst as you do, wide eyes meeting each other to connect with bare emotion. 

It’s a long pause that leaves you stuttering, your heart skipping a beat as your flesh burns with brimming affection. Simon grunts tensely and darts his eyes away to stare hard at the counter behind you.

“Well, I…” you tilt your head, beaming through a soft chuckle. “Thank you, Mr. Riley. That’s high praise coming from you.” 

“It’s nothing.” He takes his leave, firmly moving past you and shifting his body to make sure he doesn’t accidentally run into you. “Wear whatever you want, won’t make a difference… You’ll still be lovely.” 

Before you can gape into the expanse of his back at the blunt compliment, he’s already out of the door with a whisper. You watch him cross the street from the window and see him climb his steps, sucking down a shaky breath. 

An embarrassing giggle meets air. 

The man far across the street pauses in front of his door, gloved hand outstretched. He stays there for a hint of a moment, and you swear he turns his head to space you a tiny glance over his shoulder. 

Suddenly feeling as if you’d gotten caught, though you don’t know why, you squeak and hurry away into the back room. 

You wake up to the sound of the door opening. 

Drowsy and fatigued, your ears twitch to the sound of low groans and clipped growls—thick curses that would make any mother go shy that slip in and out of your reality. 

You should be afraid.

Footsteps stumble in, the thick closing and bolting of the door eching. Candles flicker through your eyelids, and you make a low noise in your throat as your face scrunches. 

All sound ceases. 

So quiet that death himself would vacate the area, your brain catches the end of a set of surprised footsteps coming to the bed and a sudden low exclamation of, “Bloody fucking hell.”

It all fades in and out, glimmering and glinting. 

A swift cleaning of the objects in his possession, organization, and fixing—moving papers. Feet stop at every other minute, and eyes burn into your face from above the covers. 

His fingers pull back at fabric, seeing the clothes you wear, the ones that he needs as of currently. 

A deep chuckle encircles you; your sleep deepens. Those same fingers, like a plague of slumber, travel up your bandaged arms and twitch along your shoulder—moving up until they come to the pulse at your neck. They add pressure and a breathless grunt is expelled as you tilt your head farther up. 

That touch is moved to your chin, moving it back down to hide your flesh from that brown gaze before a heavy sigh brushes over you. The covers are all at once pulled farther up along your form. 

The shadow disappears, and with it, it takes the extra blanket from the end of the bed, harshly grunting as the fabric is shuffled around and wrapped. A tiny mutter.

“You have a fuckin’ horrible habit of complicating things.” 

You sleep on, and, if you were conscious enough to realize it, you would have felt the gaze on you for the remainder of the night from the table—watching, barely blinking above the heavy press of eyes. 

Silent, if only for the soft breaths taken and no sooner exhaled on long, even, airways. 

As if not but a dog that watches the moon under starlight; the gentle sight of snow falling outside of the den. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlized, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @l-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[soapyblubbles]

*.•° 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 °•.*

pairings: poly!marauders x nymph!reader

summary: james introduces you to his two friends

warnings: implied “sharing.” do with that what you will.

a/n: who was gonna tell me that i actually have to check my inbox to know if i have asks 🙊 anyways this is set before pieces of me !! this is dedicated to the anon who asked me about nymph!reader back in august 😭

You tug roughly on James’ arm, mindlessly cooing as you pull him deeper into the cave.

He doesn’t understand anything that you’re saying, but still he nods along enthusiastically, intently focused on each syllable that leaves your mouth. You had been surprised when he showed up earlier than usual, especially when you realized he had brought others along with him.

The two trail behind uncertainly, their rising alarm resting sour on your tongue.

The long-haired one made you especially wary.

He doesn’t show any outward signs of being nervous but you sense emotions better than most. His wild energy puts you on edge. His aura is bitter, like the unripe fruit that dangles from the trees that tower over you when you journey into the forest. There’s also a hint of sweetness reminiscent of the nectar that the bees sometimes bring you.

If the long-haired one is the fruit then the tall one is the branches, balancing out his companions' wild nature with his never ending patience. That’s not to say he doesn’t have any chaos of his own. You can feel it writhing underneath his skin, especially when he shifts around every now and again, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Though you think that it might be because of how he’s forced to hunch over every now and again, the tips of his hair brushing against the jagged ceiling whenever the floor of the cave gets too uneven.

The taste of honey dew makes your mouth water, along with a richness similar to the dark colored treats James brings you every once in a while.

“Are we almost there?” James’ hushes them and a frown forms on both their faces. You peer at them with interest.

“James.” The tall one scolds, his throat raspy with sleep. “Don’t ignore us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’re almost there. Merlin, all you have to do is wait a few more bloody minutes.”

“Well excuse me if I decide to ask a couple questions when you drag me in the middle of the forbidden forest at this hour.” The tall one hisses back, looking far more lively than he had moments before.

You tug on James’ sleeve, straightening up as his attention instantly falls back to you. “Yes, love?”

You gesture to the cave, turning back to stick your tongue out at the two behind you. Although they're infinitely confused, there’s no doubting the fact that you’ve piqued their interest.

“Bloody brat.” The two mutter in unison.

James ignores them, trying his best to listen to your incomprehensible, but excited mutterings.

“Found the poor thing bathing in a creek when I was roaming around as Prongs.” James sighs, clutching his wand tightly as he walks the familiar path.

They stop just as you reach the entrance to what looks like a house, gazing around in awe as the glass bottles and mason jars start to come to life, fireflies moving around in them restlessly. The unnatural glow coming from the small pond by the back alcove couldn’t be from anything but magic. You lead them further into the room, pointing to the small collection of rocks and other random items, sorted in a chaotic manner.

“Wow.” The shorter one whispers breathlessly.

You push James on your makeshift bed, made up of moss and hay. You sidle up to his side with a contented hum. “Brought her some stuff when I could. But for now I figured I’d share her with m’best mates.”

They both pause at that.

“What?”

“Trust me, the poor thing can barely even understand us.” He assures his tall friend.

Seeing how unconvinced they still were, he sighs and turns to you. You perk up at his attention, letting the small stones you were messing with fall to the floor as you give him a bright smile.

“You’re just a dumb little nymph aren’t you?” He coos down at you. You nod along eagerly, eyes shining with adoration as he mocks you.

“Such a dumb girl, who’s my dumb girl, huh?” His voice was not unlike the voice one would use when speaking to a puppy and you just smiled along, practically bouncing in place at his upbeat tone. You latch onto his arm, fiddling with the fabric on his jacket.

James sighs at your actions, pulling you closer into him, your teeth making a soft ‘click’ every time you bite down on the material.

Sirius gives Remus a heavy look, the long haired boy looking doubtful when Remus walks over, hunching over you. His slender finger trails up and down your calf. “Such a pretty girl.”

You must’ve understood what he said because no sooner did those words leave his mouth, did your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him forward harshly.

With a speed that surprised even him, his arms shot out to either side of your head, letting out a loud groan as a few small rocks dug into his palms, just barely managing to stop himself from crushing you.

You let out a series of loud clicking and chirping noises, unaware of how improper your actions were. He lets out a huff, rising to his knees as you continue to babble nonsensically. “You don’t do that. You understand? Tha’s not nice and someone could’a gotten hurt.” His tone is firm and you squirm in place, peering up at him with wide eyes.

James had never spoken that way to you before.

Bashfully, you turn away from him, hiding your face in the crook of James’ neck. “Hey mate, don’t be rude to my best girl. Just cause I’m sharing ‘er doesn’t mean you need to be a prick to the poor thing.” He grumbles, petting your head softly.

Remus just sighs, shaking his head at you two before calling out, “Are y’just gonna stand there all evenin’?”

Sirius, who was still wandering around the cave, shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “Sorry mate, s’just cool in here.” He moves to sit down, but freezes when your head snaps to him. You bare your teeth, hissing with furrowed brows as you eye the way he’s just a little too close to James.

James lets out a booming laugh as Sirius’ features morph into a scowl.

Remus slaps James’ arm. “Be nice.”

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinkmas (1) Tis The Season For...Love?

Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary- After stressing out over a gift you were giving to your long term crush, it seems that it really is the season for miracles to happen.

Word Count- 5.5K

Warnings/Tags: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Secret Santa, Mistletoe, 18+ Smut, Soft Smut, Fingering (R receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Tribbing, Confessions, Implied Dom Natasha/Sub Reader

Kinkmas Masterlist

---

Christmas music softly spilled from the speakers placed around the living area in the compound, the festive spirit wrapping around the room like a warm, cosy blanket, a joyful and carefree atmosphere taking over everyone despite celebrating the event ridiculously early. It was only December fifth yet it was Christmas in the Avenger's household to accommodate everyone at once; Thor having to leave earth soon, Clint wanting to spend the festive season with his family along with Tony who was planning an extravagant Christmas for Morgan, resulting in everyone to revel in the season of joy earlier than usual. Well, almost everyone.

Your body practically buzzed with nerves and anxiety as your body refused to melt against the impossibly soft cushion behind you, Wanda's body relaxed next to your tense one as she sent you a soft, reassuring smile, able to feel the sheer worry inside your mind.

"Relax," she whispers teasingly, your best friend knowing of your current predicament. "I'm sure she's going to love it, don't worry about it," she adds with a softer tone, her arm wrapping around your tense shoulders, pulling you against her body and under the the festive blanket she managed to find, the fluffy and welcoming fabric helping you attempt to try and get snug on the sofa, but how could you possibly relax with what was about to happen?

Secret Santa was officially your least favourite thing about Christmas.

It all started when you pulled out the small slip of paper out of Tony's helmet, your eyes widening at the name you pulled out.

Natasha Romanoff

You just had to get the woman who was notorious for being impossible to buy gifts for, not a single person in the team able to get her a present that she was amazed at. It wasn't that she was rude about what others got her, no, she was always polite and accepting of the gift but you always saw that glint in her eye of wanting a present that was truly heartfelt, something that screamed, 'I got this because it reminded me of you', not something bought off the shelf that she might like.

You also just had to get the woman who you may or not have had the smallest, most miniscule, microscopic crush on. It wasn't like your entire body yearned to feel her arms wrapped around your torso in a gentle, caring embrace, hear the angelic sound of her laughter, body shaking against yours as she tried to stifle the noise, to see her eyes light up in a way that shows she knows she's loved by someone, by you.

Seemingly able to feel your gaze on her, Natasha's head turned to look at you, a soft, carefree smile playing on her lips as she met your brief gaze, your eyes naturally flickering away, cheeks tinting pink in embarrassment and nerves. You could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest at the fleeting look, butterflies swarming in your stomach so much you thought that you would just combust in the festive blanket next to Wanda, the witch next to you shaking her head playfully at your awkward and shy manner.

"She's about to open it," Wanda murmurs, your head instantly raising from away the blanket, watching attentively as Steve carefully handed the neatly wrapped present to the redhead, her fingers wrapping around the item and pulling it towards her, that gentle but teasing smirk written across her face. Her eyes looked at the shape of the present, a small warmth filling her chest at the handwriting on the label, the spy already able to figure out who it was from as she looked up at the rest of the room, eyes meeting yours.

"This better not be another box of chocolates," Natasha teases, a slight rasp to her voice as her gaze reluctantly leaves you, searching for Tony who's slumped over a seat, a smile taking over his lips as he chuckles.

"It was gourmet chocolate," he argues in defence, "And it was in the shape of us all, what wasn't there to love?" His usual sarcasm comes out, Natasha rolling her eyes at him, remembering the Avenger chocolate box he somehow managed to find somewhere for her present last year, the redhead not even that big a fan of chocolate.

She merely hums in response, her fingers deftly unwrapping the gift, your eyes trained on her as she peeled away the festive paper, the action seemingly lasting forever. The thirty seconds felt like thirty minutes, your fingers anxiously playing with one another as you gauged her reaction, wanting to impress her and get her something she loved. She deserved it.

Emerald green softened as she revealed the present underneath, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she recognised what the gift was, eyes flickering up to meet yours. It was as if time stopped when she held your gaze, a glint of appreciation and gratefulness swirling in the pools of enchanting green, a hidden glint of love in them unknown to you along with a flood of warmth consuming the redhead's chest at the care and effort you put into the gift.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs in response, looking back down at the framed piece of artwork you had drawn for her, your cheeks tinting a darker shade at her praise.

The piece was of Russian scenery the two of you had encountered on a mission together, your mind replaying the moment with the redhead as you paused in your journey to gaze over the picturesque setting, Natasha confessing to you that she loved little areas like this: little spectacles hidden away for people to stumble across.

"It's just so... so peaceful," she whispered in awe as the two of you admired the endless stretch of mountain terrain, various plants and animals thriving in the distance, the nature lower down contrastingly vibrant to the snow-capped mountains, the gentle rays of the sun illuminating the view perfectly while the moment brought the two of you closer together.

You were snapped out of the brief memory by Wanda nudging your shoulder, smile wide and teasing as Natasha thanked you once again before Tony interrupted, making another sarcastic comment about how a miniature Black widow chocolate would have been a far better gift, a soft laugh leaving you as Clint threw a candy cane at the billionaire to shut him up, wanting to open his present next.

Unbeknown to you, as you focussed on Clint, Natasha kept her gaze on you, smile tender and soft, fingers tracing over the frame that had 'peaceful' engraved on it, her heart fluttering a little in her chest as she couldn't deny her feelings anymore.

She'd fallen for you.

***

After the secret Santa event had finished, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, attempting to steal one of Wanda's freshly baked cookies without her noticing as they were just so delicious, a soft chuckle making you freeze, cookie half in your mouth.

Sheepishly, you turned around to see who had caught you in the act, cheeks tinting pink once again at the sight of Natasha smiling endearingly at you, slowly strolling towards you as you bit into the cookie, hoping she wouldn't tell on you to Wanda.

"So you're the cookie thief," she whispers in a playful tone, smile widening at the shy laugh that left you as you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to play it off.

"I don't know what you mean," you faux innocence in your voice as you watch how she moves to lean against the countertop opposite you, her arms bracing her body upright, your eyes naturally going towards her arms as they flexed slightly, a brief wave of arousal flowing through you at the sight before you flicker your gaze back to the humoured green.

"Mhmm, sure you don't," she murmurs sarcastically, pushing herself off the countertop and stopping right in front of you, her arm brushing yours as she reaches past you for a cookie, the proximity of you both making your breath hitch, her sweet perfume invading your senses, mind trying to process what was happening as all you could currently focus on was her.

"I won't tell if you don't either," her tone amused as she noticed how you smiled at her action, chuckling at her words and nodding in agreement, not wanting Wanda to threaten you with no more sweet treats, her baking skills just far too superior to give up.

"I won't tell," you whisper back, a comfortable and peaceful atmosphere filling the kitchen as you both finish off the heavenly snack before the witch could catch you in the act, Natasha then speaking up, gaining all of your attention as usual.

"Thank you for the present," her tone is nothing but soft and gentle, your smile widening at her expression, "I love it."

"I'm glad you like it. You deserved something special," you confess shyly, the gaze lingering as you both seemingly get lost in each other's eyes, the enticing green naturally drawing you in, the various shades luring you to keep gazing softly at her.

"I-" she pauses in her words when the both of you notice an object wrapped in red tendrils floating towards you, your cheeks a similar colour to Wanda's magic as you notice the piece of mistletoe that was now hanging above the two of you.

Panic and excitement seemed to fill you while relief flooded through the redhead as it was the perfect time to show how she felt towards you, already confident on how you'd react based on your not so subtle crush on her.

"You don't have to, I'm sure Wanda's just-" you ramble in case she was uncomfortable but the feeling of her hands softly cupping your cheeks makes you stop, her teeth biting down on her lower lip subtly at how adorable she found you.

"Is this ok?" she murmurs, her lips mere inches from yours as she looks into your eyes for an answer, thumbs brushing your cheeks softly.

"Yes," you sigh out, having dreamed of this moment, before tilting your head up slightly to meet her lips for the soft kiss, eyes fluttering shut as you savoured the moment. Her lips slotted perfectly against yours, her body moving closer as her hands remained cupping your cheeks, the brief kiss nothing but soft and intimate as you both pulled back from it, her lips tugging up into a smile as you eventually opened your eyes to meet hers.

Your whole body yearned to experience that again, a buzz of excitement flowing through you while joy consumed your entire body, lips stretching into a wide smile as Natasha remained close to your body, not having moved away completely.

The mistletoe above your head seems to explode into a small bundle of red tendrils in celebration, sparks of Wanda's magic gently floating around the two of you as you shake your head at your best friend's antics, thanking her in your head for her playing cupid.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," Natasha murmurs, her fingers delicately brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, amused at how flustered the action made you as your eyes flicker between her lips and eyes.

"Really?" you ask, almost surprised by her confession as the redhead nods in response, unable to stop the smile that creeps back onto her face.

"Really," she reassures you, your hands hesitantly going to her waist, holding her close.

"Me too," you whisper back, her arms leaving your face and mirroring your action, holding onto your waist as her face lowered once again.

"Yeah? I think we should have another one then," you softly chuckled at her words, obliging and giving into them, claiming her lips once again in a tender manner, a smile engraved on your lips as you lost yourself in the feeling of her body pressed up against yours.

"Good idea," you murmur after the two of you reluctantly pull back from the intimate kiss, her eyes gazing softly into yours before flickering back down to your lips, already addicted to you.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?" Her voice a soft whisper with how close you were, not wanting to speak any louder and disrupt the tranquil and peaceful atmosphere wrapped around the two of you. You didn't think it was possible to smile any wider, breaking out into a toothy grin as the butterflies in your stomach returned, excitement coursing through your body at what was actually happening, mind slowly catching up. Natasha Romanoff, the woman you'd been crushing on forever for just kissed you and asked you out for dinner, emotions and thoughts swarming through your mind.

"I'd love to," you say, not hiding how excited you were, her lips pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as relief floods through her at your response, her mind imagining various different plans on where to take you and how to make the night special before the sound of the rest of the team caught your attention, your moment being interrupted.

"I'll meet you outside your room at six?" she asks, stealing one more cookie and breaking it in half for you, your heart melting at the action, her already able to seemingly read your mind and what you wanted.

"Six," you confirm, reaching out for her hand tentatively, the redhead squeezing it back in response before walking back into the main room with you, smiles plastered on your faces.

***

Sticking true to her words, Natasha made your night perfect, in fact, she made the next couple of weeks perfect. The redhead planned the date to the last detail, even in the short amount of time she had to prepare, taking you to a small local Italian restaurant that was nice and quiet, the food one of your favourites and the place extremely cosy and welcoming which you absolutely adored. After the delicious meal that was followed by a rich desert shared between the two of you, she took you for a casual stroll through the snow that started to fall gracefully from the darkening sky, offering you her scarf in the bitter wind and helping you wrap it around your neck, cheeks the same colour as her hair as she smirked at you all wrapped up and flustered. The smell of her sweet perfume adorned the scarf, your nose buried in the fabric to fight off the cold that didn't affect her as she was 'Russian and could handle it', despite the tip of her nose tinting red, the smell of her resulting in a sense of safety and joy to bubble in your chest as she continued to walk you till you reached a small local park already decorated for Christmas.

The two of you strolled like a couple in a romantic film through the beautifully light park, various Christmas lights wrapped around tree trunks and branches, illuminating the park in a gentle glow, the snowflakes glistening in the light, your eyes amazed by the beautiful scenery. You smiled a little under her scarf as you glanced at her by your side, arms brushing as you walked, a little surprised at how romantic the woman seemed to be, the thought of her thinking carefully about the date making your heart beat wildly in your chest at how perfect she was. To make your chest fill with more warmth and affection, her hand eventually took a hold of yours, almost shyly as she made sure you were ok with it before interlocking your fingers, squeezing gently and continuing to walk with you through the park, hand in hand.

To top it all off, she stopped in an empty area of the park and whispered sweet words to you, eyes softening at the caring expression written across your face as she asked you if she could kiss you, your head nodding instantly, her hands moving to unwrap your scarf momentarily so she could press her lips to yours, cold fingertips resting against your cheeks, both of your eyes fluttering close to savour the moment, love bubbling within both of you. This was the start of something special.

After that night, the two of you seemed to be inseparable most of the time, you especially wanting to be clingy with the redhead as the array of emotions you felt in her presence were just so addictive, your body constantly craving for her. The two of you easily slipped into a natural relationship, small acts meaning a lot to the both of you.

Natasha loved it when you simply just accompanied her while she finished off mission reports, her back against the headboard, laptop in her lap as your body leaned slightly against her, occupied with something else but still with her. Your favourite thing with her was when you'd show her your favourite films, dragging her into bed with you and cuddling into her body, teasing her about how soft she secretly was as she grumbled she wasn't 'soft', despite it being abundantly clear she was with you, your body eventually falling asleep snuggled against her with the film still playing.

However, a joint favourite were the moments you'd spend together in bed, lips moving against one another's in a sensual manner, the two of you going slow with this aspect of your relationship until now.

It was Christmas Eve and after having persuaded the redhead to leave her work alone for a bit, enticing her with the promise of kisses, she joined you on the bed, effortlessly straddling your waist, fingers threading through your hair and playing with the loose strands at the back of your neck, eyes gradually flickering over all of your features, admiring them before lowering her face marginally.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's savoured the moment enough, she kisses you. She kisses you like she's been starved of your lips forever; it's hot, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you wanted it to be. You can't do anything but melt into her touch, hand clutching at her waist to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.

A soft moan leaves you at the intensity of the kiss, heat immediately taking over your body, her touch burning into your skin as arousal pools between your legs at the feeling of her lips moving against yours, a sensual sigh escaping her as you pull back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green.

Your lips peck hers in between laboured breaths, her hands moving to your shoulders, gliding them down your back, her mouth taking control of the kiss as she slides her tongue into yours, earning another sinful noise out of you.

You're lost for words as her hands gently push your body down, hers pressing into yours as you lay flat on the soft mattress, her mouth persistent against yours while her hands venture across your body, driving you delirious with desire.

"Nat," you pant out when she lets her kisses move to your jaw, making her way along your jawline and down your neck, smirking against the skin at your affected tone, teeth scraping the column of your throat making your hips buck against her knee that's moved in between your legs. "Fuck, please," you groan out, fingers threading through her hair, ruffling her red locks slightly by pulling her head back up for another intimate but desperate kiss, passion and love being poured into it from both of you, mouths moving slower against each other to savour the intimacy of it.

While your mouths move together in a perfect rhythm, her hands slide down your body, reaching the hoodie you've stolen from her and slip under it, her mouth parting from yours briefly.

"Is this ok Detka?" she murmurs affectionately, eyes gazing into yours tenderly as she waits for your permission, your lips stretching into a smile as you loved how caring she was, your head tilting up to reach her lips, pressing them against hers with a smile which she reciprocates.

"Yes," you sigh out, her hands deftly sliding her item of clothing off you, eyes raking over the exposed skin, your hands going to her shirt, pulling on the bottom of it and asking the same question.

Her body moves so she's back to straddling you briefly, her hands reaching down to the hem of her shirt, pulling the shirt off teasingly slow, amused by how entranced you were, hands reaching out for her soft, smooth skin.

"You're so..." you trail off, her body lowering to be pressed against yours, her eyebrow raising in expectation as she waits for you to finish your sentence, too busy focussing on the feeling of her warm body touching yours.

"So?" she pushes, one of her fingers trailing down your neck and lower, just hovering above your breasts, the action causing you to lose track of your thoughts as lust swirls in your eyes.

"Perfect. Beautiful. Mesmerising-" she cuts you off when you finally figure out the words to describe her sheer beauty, her cheeks slightly tinted red at your adoring tone, the compliments making her smile into the kiss as she lets her hands roam around your body, reaching the clasp of your bra and waiting for you to nod once again.

"Flirt," she chuckles out, unclasping your bra and tossing it onto the floor, your hands sliding up her body and mirroring the action, unclasping her bra and gaze instantly flickering down to her breasts that press into you as her body moves against yours. "You're divine Detka," she purrs, mouth at the shell of your ear, voice low and raspy sending a wave of arousal straight to your core, the heat intolerable.

"Nat, I need you, please," you whisper out, the redhead pulling back slightly so she could see your eyes, searching them to see if you truly meant it. Your hands interlock with hers, guiding one of them down your body to where the waistband of your joggers were to emphasise your point.

"Are you sure?" she asks softly, fingers sliding under the fabric briefly, not venturing any further as she wants you to be sure. She wants this moment to be special and intimate.

"I'm sure," you murmur back, face softening at her caring manner. "Now kiss me," you sigh out playfully, the redhead obliging in your demand and kissing you sensually, hands sliding your joggers off before returning to your clothed core, groaning at how wet you already were.

"You've been waiting so long for this, haven't you?" she whispers against your lips, the pad of her index finger slowly circling your clit through your drenched panties, a soft moan escaping you at the pleasure that slowly builds at her actions.

"So long," you reply honestly, her eyes gazing into your lust-filled ones, memorising your face as your mouth parts slightly as she trails a finger along your core, your hips bucking against her hand softly, "Please, I need you to touch me."

"I'll take care of you Detka, don't worry" her tone loving as she slides her fingers under the waistband of the lace you were wearing, pulling it down your legs at a torturous pace, mouth placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw as your head lolls back. "Tell me to stop and I will," she softly mumbles against your skin, one of her fingers sliding through your folds, gathering some of the abundance of arousal pooled between your legs, a soft, desperate noise leaving you at the feeling of finally being touched. Her free hand interlocks with one of yours, pinning it above your head gently as her lips mould against yours, stealing your breath away.

When her finger moves to circle your clit, pleasure sparks through your body, the intimacy of the moment adding to the arousal clouding your mind as a broken moan escapes you, the noise being swallowed by her mouth, Natasha smirking into the messy kiss.

"Does that feel good, Detka?" she teases in a soft murmur, repeating the action and earning another sinful sound, a gasp leaving you as another finger ghosts your entrance, the redhead leaning back in for another kiss, wanting more of you, needing more of you.

"Yes, Fuck, Nat," you groan when she slowly thrusts her finger into you, purposely taking her time with you as she intends to drive you mad with her touch, your eyes fluttering open, meeting enamoured green as she curls her digit inside you, mouth parting at the feeling. "Shit, just like that, please do that again," you practically beg her as she thrusts her finger back in, hitting your sweet spot perfectly while her thumb moves to circle your clit, lips moving to the shell of your ear.

"Do you need more, Detka?" her tone still teasing, wanting to hear how desperate you were, her finger persisting with her deliberately slow pace, gradually building the pleasure within you as your hips gently rock against her hands, your free hand moving to tangle in her red locks, wanting to keep her close.

"Please," is all you moan back in response, her hand parting from yours and moving down your body to cup one of your breasts, fingers ghosting over your sensitive nipple, sending more heat to build between your thighs.

"Tell me what you what," she murmurs, still at the shell of your ear, her tone making your mind fog with the thought of her.

"Faster, please move your fingers faster," you whimper out, her slow pace having your body beg for more, her smirking against your skin once again.

"Good girl for telling me," she praises and you can't help the groan that leaves you at the praise, her obeying your command and thrusting her finger into you a little faster, allowing more waves of pleasure to flood through you, fingers grasping the sheets as she reads your body perfectly, giving you exactly what you want.

"I'm so close," you pant against her, hips moving a little more frantically against her hand as she slides in another finger, stretching you beautifully. Another lewd noise is ripped out of the back of your throat as she curls both of them against your sweet spot, your hips bucking against her, hands moving to her face, guiding her back to your lips and moaning into her mouth when her fingers at your breast softly pinch your nipple, more pleasure shooting through you as you feel your orgasm about to crash through you.

"Come for me," she murmurs ever so softly into your mouth, a broken moan leaving you at her words, body obeying and crashing straight into your release, pleasure and euphoria crashing through your entire body. You clench around her fingers, hands tightening their grip momentarily on her red locks as she swallows the string of moans that spill gracefully from your lips, your hips grinding against her hand as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Soft kisses around your face encourage you to gradually flutter your eyes open, meeting the gentle green you were falling so deeply in love with, her smile widening at your blissed out state, her fingers slowly pulling out of you.

You tilt your head to meet her plump, kiss swollen lips, hands delicately brushing against the skin of her hips, gradually building in pressure until you are gripping them softly, intent in your actions that doesn't go unnoticed by the redhead.

"You don't have to," she whispers in between lazy kisses, eyes meeting yours before she lets her gaze flicker across your features, admiring the slope of your nose, tinted cheeks and lips pulling into a tender smile.

"I want to, if that's ok?" you murmur back, searching her eyes as one of your fingers slips under the waistband of her joggers, softly caressing the skin there while you wait for her response.

"You wanna make me come, Detka?" she purrs out, a small gasp leaving you at her words as she ghosts her lips against yours, her tone making your head spin as arousal swarms through your body once again. When you nod back in response, heart beating wildly in your chest at the way she was looking at you, she chuckles at your submissive form, claiming your lips softly. "I've got a better idea," she whispers back, your brows furrowing in confusion until she effortlessly and swiftly pulls her remaining clothes off, your eyes widening in shock at how beautiful she was, devouring the soft, creamy skin that was on display before she manoeuvres your bodies so that your cores are pressed against one another.

A broken moan leaves your lips while a low sigh escapes her, emerald eyes fluttering close in pleasure as you peer up at her face, admiring how her mouth parted slightly at the feeling of her body pressing into yours.

"Fuck," she curses, voice low and raspy as she gives a small grind of her hips against yours, a soft moan escaping you at her voice. God that was the hottest thing you've ever heard.

"You feel so good, so good," she murmurs, leaning down to press her lips to yours, swallowing another sinful sound from you before sliding her tongue into your mouth, the kiss turning messy as your hips roll against each other.

"Nat," you whimper out and it's pathetic how desperate you sound, her hands finding yours and interlocking your fingers, pinning them above your head and grinding her hips down harder against you, your back arching and pushing your body closer to hers.

"Y/n," she sighs back, tone almost as affected as she moves her mouth to the shell of your ear, a groan leaving you as you hear all the soft, sensual sighs that escape her, the small pants of breath as your clits brush perfectly, pleasure consuming you both.

Your fingers tighten their grip on her hand, hips bucking up a little frantically against hers as your second orgasm swiftly builds, her body on top of yours restricting your movement and denying you the friction you so desperately needed to send you over the edge. Upon sensing how close you were, her hips grind down harder, mouth letting out a soft moan by your ear to make arousal spike through your body along with pleasure.

"Please," you beg, voice laced with desperation as your body teeters on the edge of your release, Natasha losing her own composure at your tone, thrusting her hips against you with less rhythm as they start to stutter against yours.

"Come with me," she groans against your lips, kissing you with passion as you both fall over the edge, pleasure, euphoria and love consuming your bodies as you rock against one another, hands holding onto each other as you ride out your orgasms.

The room fills with the sound of soft sighs and laboured breaths, your body trembling a little under hers, hands releasing one another prompting you to hold onto her waist, face hiding at the crook of your neck as you seek comfort against her warm skin, your breath tickling her slightly. A few moments later, the feeling of soft fingers brushing along your jawline and pushing your hair back coaxes you out of the safety of her neck, Natasha wanting to look at you.

The redhead smiles at you affectionately, pressing one last gentle kiss against your lips, both of you practically grinning into it at the overwhelming feeling of joy taking over you, her body sliding off yours and pulling you into her arms to cuddle, her warm skin and soft body perfect for you to melt against.

You keep her gaze for a moment, the soft, tender look lingering as you build up the courage to confess to her, Natasha waiting patiently as she senses you're about to say something.

"Natasha I... I love you," you murmur, the quietness of the room making you hear your own pounding heart as you wait for her reaction, her lips pulling into a genuine, wide smile, arms snaking further around your body and pulling you closer.

"I love you too," she whispers back in a loving tone, pressing a kiss to your temple and letting her forehead rest against yours, her eyes flickering over to the clock on the nightstand briefly, noting the time. "Merry Christmas Detka," her tone affectionate as your leg slides between hers, tangling your limbs together as you cuddle into each other, her words eliciting a smile from you.

"Merry Christmas Nat," you say back in a similar tone, eyes meeting hers, love and joy engraved onto your faces as you kiss once more before eventually drifting off to sleep in each other's arms, locked in a lovers embrace. 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Queen Step Sister

She wasn’t always a queen 

Like every queen before she was a princess

But before she was a princess she was a count from a low-class duchy

Her mother had found your father

Old, ill, and enticed by the countess willing to entertain him

The countess herself wasn’t awful

She was civil, for the most part the only problem with her was her daughter

“And this is your new sister—Harley! Say hello!”

“Hmph just because your Dad’s the King doesn’t mean I have to like you!”

“Harley!”

Harley was a menace

Snooty and rude

Every time she spoke to you it was like liquid acid spraying specifically at you

She was typically spoiled but she never mistreated the servants 

She was decent to your father 

But to you, it was like she hated your guts from the very beginning

“I’m glad I spilled all that cranberry juice on you! The little outfit you were wearing before matched your ugliness a bit too well.”

“That was a gift from my late mother!”

“Hm figures.”

Of course in turn you hate her too

And you don’t bother hiding it from your father when he weakly asks you to hang out with her

“Did you hear what she said to me? I honestly couldn’t care less if that horse she spooked stomped her flat.”

“(Y/n)! Hold your tongue, she’s your new sister.”

“She might be your daughter but that thing is not my sister.”

He doesn’t seem convinced as he continues putting you together with her in hopes it will strengthen your bond

It does not

And it will never be as your father succumbs to his illness

Naturally, you prepare to take on the throne despite your young age

But alas nothing goes the way it should since she’s been forced into your life

“As the former partner of the King, I gladly will take up the role until our child is ready.”

It’s infuriating as the advisor reads a part in his newly written will about this

How he ordained that his second wife have you in her care and the kingdom in her control

And of course decency dwindles as she becomes drunk on the social power

Fueling her gremlin of a daughter

“Mother’s forbidden you from leaving your room. So I figured I’d give you some of my company! You're welcome.”

“Go jump out the window.”

“How dare–MOM!”

It just gets worse and worse

You do think for a moment things will get better as The substitute Queen keels over her wine at a banquet

Thanking the heavens for whoever poisoned her, you’re prepared to take the throne

“I am so sorry (Y/n) but the council has ruled that for your safety as the kingdom’s only true heir, it’d be dangerous to let you take the throne. So we’ll give the role of Queen to Harley.”

It takes you everything not to stab the brat as she puffs her chest and flips her hair

“Won’t you congratulate me on my coronation!”

It’s agony that ripples under your skin as you have no choice but to flee the castle grounds to escape her stabbing presence and that only works for a day at most

With her mother no longer ruling she isn’t forced to take etiquette lessons away from you

Now she can demand your attendance for any minor meeting

“I don’t think we should mobilize our militia on that border. It’s far too much of an overreaction.”

“What about the villages that have been burned there? The people who need medical attention?”

“Hush (Y/n) I didn’t say you could talk in this meeting.”

It's all so frustrating feeling trapped

But you’re not the only one 

Harley is incredibly frustrated because of what keeps her trapped

And that’s her inability to say anything that she truly means

Especially with manners of the heart

Underneath layers of cruel insults, stifling rules, and personal jabs 

Is a step-sister who adores your very being but is stuck with her thorny exterior

She is forced to stick her nose up and sneer at you when you look her direction

When she’ll say “You look like death with the new family brooch. You might do better to just leave it off.”

What she means “I think you look even more gorgeous than usual with the family brooch, don’t ever take it off.”

If she wasn’t as backward demented as she was it probably wouldn’t be so hard to try being nice

To switch her compliments to insults for just a day to give you a kind compliment

But she hates actually making it so that

Naturally, this is why she killed her mother

She’d gotten in the way of her free time with you 

On top of looking down on you which she absolutely hates the most

Granted she’s certain you hate her with how much time she spends attempting to bring you down expressing her affection the only way she can

Sometimes she’s tempted to put it in writing 

just explain her condition so that she can jump into your arms as you connect the dots

But every time she’d written something out, she couldn’t help but confess how obsessed she was with you 

How happy she was that her whole job now was protecting you

She wasn’t exactly fond of the kingdom other than it being an inheritance for you

She hopes you’ll forgive her as she’ll  prioritize you and your safety above all else

No one but your father’s trusted advisor may see past her biting personality

Convinced with the council that it’s best to have her temporarily rule

If only until they get to the bottom of both the King and the Queen’s deaths

Should any council member question her or her motives 

she’d be quick to shut that down

She can’t have these old nobles get in the way of her dominion over you

“I hope you enjoy the joys of being accused of fraud. It’ll be nice to look back on your time when on the council when you’re rotting in jail.”

She has no mercy for anyone but you

[girlgenius1111]

miscommunications + conversations

alexia x reader alexia has practically stopped speaking in the wake of her second surgery. it's stressing you out, but you don't quite know how to tell her. she gets it out of you anyway. mentioned this the other day, but changed the title :) angst x fluff

"Do you need anything?" You asked, rising from your spot on the couch a safe distance away from your incredibly grouchy girlfriend.

"No." She responded, barely turning her attention away from the old match she had playing on her ipad. You sighed, realizing that it was the match against Benfica. Again. She'd been playing it over and over since her injury, in an almost obsessive manner. You'd said something about it, but she'd simply fixed you with the glare you'd become quite familiar with, and you'd dropped the subject.

Alexia wasn't an easy patient. You'd known this before her second knee surgery, but you were still astounded at how stubborn she was being. She'd barely spoken more than a word to you in weeks, and even though she pulled you close into her at night when she thought you were asleep, you hadn't ever felt like such a failure in your entire life.

Alexia wasn't okay, and she needed something. Something that you couldn't figure out, something you weren't giving her. It was driving you crazy, this feeling of inadequacy.

You were tired, worried, tired of being worried, stressed, and in need of a break. From anything, any one of your responsibilities.

You'd had a lengthy double session today, followed by a long time in the film room reviewing the last match. You'd looked forward to coming home and relaxing all day, but now that you were here, the distance between you and your girlfriend felt suffocating. It was all too much; Alexia acting like a robot, half the team being injured, game after game scheduled for the next week. You felt so stressed you thought your bones might literally shatter under the pressure.

After another rejection of conversation from Alexia, you knew you had to get out of the house before you broke down and cried in front of her. It wasn't her fault you weren't doing a good enough job taking care of her. It wasn't her fault you were so exhausted, every movement was difficult, even though you couldn't, for the life of you, sleep.

You didn't see Alexia look up after you as you left, walking back into the bedroom and pulling your phone out. You clicked the contact you were looking for, hoping she'd answer, and hoping she'd be willing to help you out today.

"Hola."

"Mapi, can you come over and sit with Ale for a bit?"

"Sí, of course. Is everything all right?" Mapi replied, usual joking manner replaced with a sympathetic one. Mapi knew all too well how Alexia was acting.

'Yeah, yeah. I just need a break." You explained. Mapi said she understood, and promised that she'd be there soon. She didn't live far, and you took a few calming breaths in the bedroom, before stepping back out to where Alexia was sitting. This time, she did look up at you, her face scrunching in concern when she noticed just how drained you looked.

It wasn't the first time she'd noticed that you were struggling, but every time she brought it up, the only time you really got more than a few words out of her at once, you turned the conversation around, trying to get her to open up to you. She hadn't missed this, but she assumed that you'd tell her what was going on when you felt ready. Alexia didn't quite seem to realize the effect her cold behavior was having on you.

"I'm gonna go run some errands. Mapi will be here in a bit, and I'll be back in a couple hours." You explained shortly, pressing a kiss onto Alexia's soft lips, and slipping out the door before she could say anything.

Once you were out the door, all bets were off, and you felt tears pooling in your eyes. It was a good thing you hadn't waited for Mapi to arrive, because you wouldn't have made it that long without breaking down in front of her, and that would have just been embarrassing.

Although, getting in the car and driving to an empty parking lot to cry wasn't really any less embarrassing.

-----

You came back from your rather pathetic drive, and walked into the house, finding your girlfriend in deep discussion with her best friend. Though you felt marginally better, you realized you'd forgotten something rather important; crying in your car for an hour would leave you with red and puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks. You hadn't done anything to hide the evidence.

This was clear when both girls stopped talking and looked at you, faces heavy with concern. Mapi stood, crossed the room as quickly as she could on crutches, and pulled you into a hug. The words she whispered in your ear were only for you to hear.

"Talk to your girlfriend. She's going crazy not knowing what's wrong with you."

You sighed, nodding slightly as you led Mapi to the door, waving to Ingrid, biting your tongue to avoid telling Mapi that you hoped she enjoyed her playdate. You and Ingrid had been making the joke for weeks, driving your respective girlfriend's back and forth to each other as they couldn't drive, feeling like parents of 2 very grumpy children.

When you returned to the living room, to Alexia, she was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest, knee extended in front of her, looking carefully at you. She looked like Alexia again, her hazel eyes looking somehow both sternly and softly at you.

"If I left the house to cry, you would kill me in my sleep."

She wasn't wrong. You were on Alexia all the time about being more vulnerable with you. It was possible, you supposed, that you were being a bit of a hypocrite.

"I didn't leave to go cry, I left, and I cried. It was coincidental." You argued back, sitting next to her on the couch, and taking her outstretched hand. Hers was so much larger than yours, and it encapsulated it completely, the rough calluses and the tight hold she had on you making you feel inexplicably safe. 

"I do not believe you. You have been upset all week, and you refused to tell me why. You call Mapi to come babysit me, you make up an errand to run, and you go cry in your car. When you are upset, you are supposed to tell me, so I can help."

You looked away from her, the extent to which she knew you being slightly overwhelming. Of course she'd known you were upset, and of course she hadn't pushed too hard. Alexia was perfect in that way, always knowing what you needed.

"Mírame," Alexia rasped and you turned towards her, lip wobbling as you finally met her gaze. "Amor," she sighed, pulling you in until you collapsed against her chest. It was a familiar position, with your head resting against her sternum, her arms holding you close. It felt like it had been ages since she’d held you, and you curled into her, clutching tightly onto the green hoodie she was wearing, feeling her lips press softly onto the top of your head. 

You still weren’t fully sold on breaking down in front of her, not when she was the one who had every right to be upset and angry with the world. You had thought, too, that you were all cried out. Unfortunately not, as you took several stuttering breaths trying to stave off your sobs before they really even started. 

Alexia stroked your hair, scolding you very gently. “No, stop that. Cry if you need to, mi amor. You can always feel what you need to feel when you are with me, sí?” 

You tried to pull away, but Alexia was too strong, keeping you stubbornly pressed to her chest.“I can’t, Ale, you-”

“Forget about me. You need to cry, you need me to hold you. We worry about you right now. Not me.” The blonde insisted, her hand sliding up your shirt, blunt nails scratching lightly over your back. She was pulling out every trick she knew to make you fall limp against her, doing everything she could to get you to let go, let her be strong for you when you were always so strong for her. 

You spent the next few minutes almost crying, almost letting go, but not quite. Your hands were fisted in the fabric of Alexia’s sweatshirt, and even though she was telling you that it was okay, you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting against the flood of emotion rushing through you. 

“Mi niña bonita, it’s okay. You’re safe to feel what you need, amor, please.” 

“I can’t Ale,” you whimpered, allowing Alexia’s hand to tilt your chin up away from her chest, towards her face. 

“Why?” She asked, so gently, so adoringly, that you felt a piece of your heart stitch itself back together. 

“You need me to be strong.” 

Alexia shook her head. “No, I need you to be okay. And you are not right now, are you?” 

You responded hesitantly, although you had no argument against her. It was rather evident that you were far from okay. “No.” 

“No.” Alexia repeated, her thumb rubbing little circles into your cheekbone. “You do not need to pretend with me. You have been so perfect, so strong. Let me be strong for you now, okay? Please?” 

Something in her voice, the pleading edge to it, broke you, and you rested your forehead back against your girlfriend’s chest, body trembling harshly with sobs. You inhaled deep gasps of Alexia’s perfume in between your cries, and tried to let it wash over you, as her words were doing. 

“There you go, bebé. You’re alright. I love you. Te tengo, amor. Te amo y te tengo, mi niña bonita.” 

You weren’t sure where this Alexia had come from, the emotionally intelligent version of your girlfriend having been missing for weeks, but you weren’t complaining. Far from it, in fact, as you cried so hard you shook against her, so hard that you exhausted yourself within minutes, gasping breaths turning into quiet whimpers as your eyes fluttered shut, and you relaxed into a light sleep against the blonde. Alexia held you with an unmoving steadiness, even when her knee started to feel stiff from the position it was in. She knew that she’d played some role in whatever was going on here, and she was quite determined to make it up to you. For now, though, she was happy to let you sleep, looking more peaceful than you had in a while. 

------ 

You woke up when Alexia began to shift uncomfortably under you. She couldn’t help it, she’d been laying in the same position for an hour, and her knee was really starting to complain. The blonde had tried to keep still, not wanting to disturb you, but she was clearly not successful when your eyes fluttered open, swollen and red, as you gazed up at your girlfriend. Her jaw was set, but she looked at you apologetically, sighing when you shot up off of her, looking frantically at her knee. 

“I am okay, bebé,” she began.

You scrambled up off of her, practically running to the kitchen to get a new ice pack. 

“Amor, come back,” she called, really not wanting to let you out of her sight before you told her what was wrong. You did return, ice pack in hand but you ignored Alexia’s attempts at conversation, carefully stretching her knee out and adjusting it to a better position. She sighed in relief despite herself, and you gently wrapped the new ice pack around her knee, before giving her an unimpressed look.

“You should have woken me.” 

“I was fine.” Alexia argued, opening her arms to invite you back against her. You hesitated, looking between her face and her knee. “Ven aqui, amor.” 

You relented slightly, curling against her side again to rest your head on her shoulder. Her lips left a soft kiss on the side of your head, and you settled in closer, the feeling of your girlfriend’s arms around you being so perfect after such a tough few weeks. 

“Talk to me, please.” Alexia said quietly after a minute.

“About what?” You replied, partly because you wanted to avoid this conversation, and partly because you knew it would annoy Alexia. 

The blonde pinched your arm lightly, not needing to say anything for you to take a deep breath, and try to explain yourself. 

“I’m just stressed. Everything with the team, the amount we have to play coming up. I’m exhausted, and there’s no time for a break.” 

It was half the truth, half the story, but you deeply hoped Ale would buy it. You didn’t need her to feel like she was burdening you, not when it was your fault, and not when she was having a hard enough time as it was. 

It was quite on brand with how things were going that Alexia saw right through you. 

“And I am not helping.” She murmured, her hand grabbing yours. Her voice was filled with guilt and regret, and you couldn't stand it. 

“No, Ale,”

“Sí,” she interrupted. “I have been moody and quiet and completely unhelpful. That is stressing you out more, yes?” 

To be honest, Alexia wouldn’t have reached that conclusion an hour ago. While you slept, though, she’d been thinking long and hard, and came to the realization that in her attempts to protect you from how awful she was feeling, she’d shut you out. 

“Yeah.” You allowed. 

“I need more than that, bebé.” 

You gave an annoyed huff, but there wasn’t really anything behind it. “It’s not your fault, Ale. It’s hard that I can’t fix everything for you, but it’s not your fault, it’s mine.” 

“I do not need you to fix it for me, amor.” Alexia cut in. 

“It would make it easier if you could tell me how to help you, because what I’m doing isn’t working.” You continued, having worked up the courage to say what you were feeling, and were sure that if you stopped now, you wouldn’t be able to continue. 

“No no no. You have not done anything wrong, you have done everything right.”

You didn’t believe her. “Then why are you so upset with me?” 

Your voice was so small and so hesitant, Alexia shut her eyes for a minute, willing away her emotion so she could explain herself to you. 

“I am not upset with you, amor. I… I am miserable because I cannot play, and I did not want to put that on you. I thought that I was helping you, not stressing you out with my feelings.” 

You shifted against her, the look on your face causing Alexia to sink back into the couch. 

“Well that did the opposite. I was worried anyway. I’m always going to worry, baby. I worry less if you tell me what you’re thinking, though.” 

Now it was Alexia’s turn to shrug noncommittally. You had on that look, though, and Alexia knew she’d cave within a minute. 

“I am sorry, amor. I should have talked to you. I made you stressed and upset for no reason.” 

You sighed dramatically, leaning in to lightly kiss her cheek. “I forgive you. You better start keeping a journal though, and let me read it every night before bed. All of your feelings of the day, written down for me to look through. Then I won’t be mad anymore.” You joked, and Alexia snorted. 

“Fine, you write one too. All your feelings. We’ll trade, and never have to talk to each other.” 

“Perfect.” You smiled, leaning your forehead against hers. 

“Perfect.” She agreed, eyes shutting at the close contact. 

“I love you.” You mumbled. 

“Te amo mucho. Even when you get tears all over my car, and make me beg you to talk to me.” 

You pulled away rolling your eyes. “Fine. You can get your own ice packs, massage your own knee, and drive yourself to your grumpy playdates with Mapi.” 

“Playdates!” Alexia gasped, yanking you back down on top of her, and poking you in the side, making you giggle against your will. “You take away my massages, I take away yours.” Alexia warned. 

You turned to her, betrayed. “You like giving me massages as much as I like getting them.” You reminded her. 

Alexia smiled playfully, her hand creeping up the front of your shirt. You shivered at the contact, taking in the smirk on your girlfriend’s face, knowing exactly what she had in mind. “Do I like to give massages? I do not remember. You will have to remind me.” 

You rolled your eyes, but leaned in, Alexia dominating the heated kiss even as you hovered on top of her, though she was slightly breathless when you slipped your tongue into her mouth. That was Alexia, though. In control of every situation, except when it came to you. Evidently, Alexia didn’t always use her brain when it came to you, her heart took over, and she made decisions she wouldn’t normally make. It was hard to complain, though, when she looked at you like you single handedly made the earth spin on its axis. No, you couldn’t complain. You were her weak spot, and you knew how lucky you were to hold that position.  

-----

some angst and fluff for ya <3

[elfryona]

Guide to picking up a plural system, for singlets

We've all been there. You're chatting with a cute plural girl and wonder if you have a chance with all of them. Maybe you've found an easily manipulated caretaker. Maybe an endogenic maid stole your clockwork heart. Maybe you met a front-stuck Tsukihime introject. Either way, you've got no better choice than following a guide by someone entirely underqualified to write one.

Before you start

Before you head system-chasing, I need you to hold your horses. You can't just go after a plural girl the way you'd go after a singlet trans girl, faking desperation and empathy. You need to relate to a system, and there's a quick little exercise for that:

Imagine a girl in your head. What does she look like? Don't just think of the broad strokes, like her figure and hair colour. What do her palms feel like to the touch? What kind of socks is she wearing? Is her neck thin enough to wrap your hands around?

This may take a while. Don't worry too much. If you can't come up with a whole new girl, you can borrow a fictional girl you're familiar with, too! Just don't skip any steps.

When you're ready, think of her personality and her voice. What would her most defining traits be? What distinct mannerisms does she carry with her? Is she soft-spoken, loud, or something in-between?

Now give her a name and introduce her to herself. Tell her who she is, what kind of person she is, and let her know that she'll live with you in your head from now on.

How to start talking

You've just invited a girl into your noggin, and you might be wondering why I made you do that. Unfortunately, that's just beyond what a singlet would understand—trust the process, and everything will work out grand.

Before asking out a plural system, you have to practise talking to a headmate. Thankfully, you don't need to look for another system for that—after all, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of their entire community?

No, you're going to practise with the new girl in your head.

I want you to remember the feeling of presence you get when someone you like is in the same room as you. Now try to feel that presence from your new friend. Some find it easier if you materialise her in a place in your head—others would rather feel her presence on the outside, like a ghost or some kind of hat man.

Now talk to her about anything you want. Remember, you need to entertain a lot of headmates to date a system—handling one girl is the least you can do! Ideally you want to give her your full attention for 30 minutes to an hour every day, but in any case, involving her in your daily routines will help a lot too! After all, she might want to front someday. Don't worry about that, though.

Actually getting a system

By now, you might've been doing the previous step for two weeks, maybe even a month. You're probably growing fond of the new girl, and she has definitely replied at least once, even though she's still struggling with language.

Maybe you're feeling ready to ask that cute system out. I'm sorry, but you have to wait a little longer!

Around this point, you might start sensing new, pretty well-developed presences entering your mind. I want you to invite them in and let them stay. Your girl needs more friends, after all!

Maybe these new presences will start talking with the girl in your head. If that's the case, you've developed a self-sustaining system and don't need to put nearly as much effort as before. Or maybe they pick up the slack while your girl is asleep—then talk to them, too! This too will help you score with a system.

How to keep it going

Now you might be thinking: "What the hell? Where's my system? What did you do to me?"

If you're thinking that, I want you to look inside: how many people live in your head? It's at least two, but more likely something like four. You've picked up a system.

Now you'll want to work on letting your headmates take the front. Everyone has their own approach, but it usually involves two steps: letting go of your body, and letting your headmate in.

You can start small. Let go of one hand, and let your most independent headmate move it about. Let go of the whole arm. Continue in the style of a mindfulness session, until it's your whole body getting taken over.

Or if you have experience with dissociation, just let go of your whole body at once! Project yourself into the outside world or retreat into the headspace, while your headmate takes over. It might feel like you're blending with them a little, but that's to be expected near the beginning. You'll get better with practice!

Once you get good enough at giving up front and end up in a sufficiently stressful situation, one of your headmates might end up stuck in front instead while you're locked inside your head. If this ever happens, you need to tell your new fronter to slide into my DMs before the headmates inevitably cannibalise what's left of your identity. No, I can't save you from getting snuffed, but I do know how to pick up a plural girl.

[t1red-twilight]

request fluff <3: everything has been going great since the wedding anniversary.

Art and reader are relaxed (like enjoy their time in the bathtub, in a couch or in bed, whatever you want ^^ ), they discuss everything and nothing, especially Art who declares all the reasons why he loves her so much (her qualities, her flaws, the feelings towards her, he knows everything like what she likes/love language/type emotions, what she makes him strong and what he makes her strong, the fact that they are there for each other...) and why he married her... this little discussion warms the reader's heart, moved, that she says nothing since she listens to him attentively, felt moved by Art's words :)

affection

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, cursing, non sexual nudity (bath)

notes: i imagined dilf!art, but there’s no kids. thank you so much for your request and your support! i followed your request closely, i hope you like it<3

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

you set down your things and took your coat off as you stepped through the threshold of yours and art’s home. the lights were dimmed, but you couldn’t find art anywhere.

as of late, art had become quite the househusband. he was taking a break from tennis to figure out where he wanted to take his career, whether that be continuing tennis, becoming a coach, or anything along the lines of just being a public figure. while he was straightening his thoughts out, he was really enjoying the domestic life.

“art?” you called out. at first you couldn’t hear him, so you repeated yourself. you proceeded to take off your shoes and walk further in. when you called out the second time, you heard him calling. you walked towards the sound of his voice, passing the flowers on the counter art had gotten last week for your anniversary.

it had already been three years since you and art had been married. you’d dated about five years before you both decided to tie the knot. everything had been, and was blissful. art was your person, and you liked to think that you were his.

art heard your feet softly padding down the hardwood down to the bedroom. you saw the light from the bathroom peeking out fro under the door. out of habit, you knocked before you entered. immediately, you heard art answer, “you can come in.”

he knew that you knew that it was okay to always come in, but you always insisted on knocking first. you know, just in case.

you opened the door to the bathroom and you were greeted with a quite content and pleasant sight. art was sitting in the balmy, warm bathroom in a bubble bath. the bubbles were just about up to his chin. on his face sat a cute little smile.

the floor was slick as you walked over to him. art spoke in a quiet tone, “hi.” you walked over to the side of the tub. when his body turned, the water swirled around him slowly.

“you look cozy,” you breathed. crouching down to his level, you brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. “honey, how long have you been in here?” you chuckled, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, noticing the thin layer of water on the edge of the tub.

he hummed while he thought for a second. “do you have the time?”

checking your watch, you stood. “it’s ten after nine.” you looked back down at him. he continued to think for a moment.

“eh, thirty minutes. give or take.” you chuckled lightly. how could the bathroom still be this warm after half an hour?

“is the water cold yet?” your voice held a playful tone; art just looked so blissed out and relaxed. you hoped he could stay like this forever.

“no. not even close. you want to come in?” you hesitated. you reached your hand into the water. just as he said, the water was just a couple degrees below scorching.

art wiggled his toes in what you thought was meant to be an enticing manner, but he just looked goofy more than anything. “c’mon, we’re not doing anything tomorrow.” he raised his eyebrows.

“yeah, sure. why not.” a grin spread across his face and you mirrored his gesture. “did you get a haircut today?”

“hmmm, perfect. i haven’t seen you all day. and, yes, i did. do you like it?” his response was casual, but he still had a slight furrowed brow.

your lips quirked up, “you look good with any haircut, art,” squatting once more to ruffle his hair as you spoke. his eyes held adoration for you that you only ever wanted to see from him. god, art was perfect. perfect for you, at least. and that was all that mattered.

“if you say so, i trust you. now get in.” he had a pleading look in his bright eyes, “please.” at his request, you began to strip yourself of your clothes. this was a casual act this far into your relationship. nudity wasn’t only sexual, but a calming act that brought you too closer every time. you set your clothes on the pile where art’s clothes sat.

you stepped into the bath with your left foot, then your right. art had scooted backward to make room for you. when you finally sat, you settled your body against his, your back

pressed against his chest. as soon as you relaxed against him, he wrapped his arms around your torso and held you close.

you leaned your head back onto his shoulder and sighed. god, if only every day could be like this. art leaned down and kissed your shoulder. “how was work?”

you chuckled sardonically. “same as usual. nothing super special or exciting.” you shrugged as best as you could. the warm water moved as art craned his head to look at you. “did you do anything today?”

he hummed in thought for a moment. “eh, nothing really. “i tried that new coffee place down the street. their lattes are pretty good. other than that, same old, same old,” art murmured.

you closed your eyes and just listened to him breathe for a moment. you could feel his heartbeat against your skin, it soothed you. you moved your arms to rest atop his. “the flowers are still doing good.”

“what flowers?” he questioned, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“the ones you got for our anniversary?” you said coyly. maybe the slow life was catching up to him.

“oh, yeah.” he laughed. “my bad. i zoned out for a second.” you could feel him smile against your shoulder. “they were expensive. i hope they don’t die too fast.”

“i can’t believe it,” you whispered, “we’ve almost been together for a whole decade.”

art responded immediately. “i can. you’re the best person i’ve ever known. every day i get with you is more than i deserve.” he didn’t look at you; he didn’t need to. just being around you was enough.

“art, i-“

“i mean it.” the silence that followed was brief, until art broke it. “i love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. i love how you always know what i’m thinking, and that you let me get you gifts even though i know you aren’t comfortable with being spoiled. i love that you love hugs, and that you’re always holding my hand.

“i love the scars you have even though you hate them. i love that you yell at shitty drivers. i love that you will always choose fast food over an expensive restaurant. i love the gleam in your eye when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. you’re always there for me, bo matter what. i love that you love me. i love you, so much. that’s why i married you, after all.”

halfway through his speech, you turned to look at him. passion swirled in his eyes, and you knew that you didn’t need to say anything.

art always knew what to say; especially on days like this one.

you leaned in closer to him, and kissed him briefly. you felt his hand cup your jawline and he thumbed a tear off of your cheek.

yes, art was perfect for you. that you could never deny.

[nell0-0]

Could you possibly do a fic where the Chain meet Legend's cucco companion, Piyoko? I want to see their reactions to her :D

Sure thing! Sorry for the wait, but here it is ^^

Main characters: Legend, Four, Wild, Wind & Warriors (+Piyoko, of course!)

“Legend, don’t freak out, but don’t you dare move.”

…Not exactly the words one would like to hear first thing in the morning before coeherency made its appearance on his brain, but he would have to deal as usual, Legend figured. What went wrong now?

“…why” Legend said, voice thick with sleep and slightly slurred despite his best attempt.

Turning the other way and sleeping this problem away was so tempting. Problem he wasn’t aware of, mind you, because he could more or less glimpse everyone else around camp. Either sleepy, still snoring or staring at Legend with an intensity only deserved for a dangerous foe or-

“There’s a-“

Legend reached above his head, his hand colliding with something soft, a familiar texture greeting his cautious fingers.

“Wait, stop!”

“Goddesses, he’s doomed.”

“Legend, noooo!”

Grabbing whatever it was, a suspicious squeak as a result, Legend used his elbows to hold his weight while he looked at the cause of alarm for the three dumbasses in front of him.

“Pyo!”

…a cuccoo. Well, at least it wasn’t a tiny monster out for his blood. Even though that description adhered to cuccoos most days. Not to this one, chirping excitedly at seeing Legend’s messy face with dry drool still on the side of his mouth.

The others (just three of them, at least) had jumped back. He had expected the over the top reaction from the champion, who was wieling a soup ladle as if it was a weapon. Not so much from Wind who shouldn’t know what they were since he didn’t have them on his era and he hadn’t yet been attacked by an angry flock on this adventure. Definitely wasn’t expecting Four with a… cane? A magic cane.

A magic cane he hadn’t told Legend about. Darn it.

“Really, guys? First thing on the morning?”

“Why are you so calm about this?” Wind squinted at Legend, taking Wild’s soup ladle and poking at Legend’s face with the round edge. Wild shot Wind a betrayed look, who shrugged in response gesturing at Legend in a baffled manner.

Four’s eyes seemed to shimmer a myriad of colors, his face contorting awkwardly as if he couldn’t decide on whether he should laugh, get concerned or scold them all and go back to sleep.

“Guys, it’s okay, it’s just Piyoko.”

Holding the cuckoo, no longer the little chick she had been while on their adventures with Din’s troupe and the Nayru fiasco, Legend cooed. Wind poked at Legend again, bewildered. The look Piyoko threw the sailor was murderous, the poor kid backing off as if burnt and abandoning the wooden ladle to its uncertain fate. In retaliation, Wild flicked the kid on the forehead, quick to retrieve yet another soup ladle from his seemingly infinite supply on that slate of his.

Why soup ladles? Why not swords. Goddesses knew Wild never had enough of those with the rate he kept breaking them at.

Only Four seemed coherent enough to get them back on track from their usual shenanigans, despite being the less alert of the three.

“Piyoko?”

“Piyoko” Legend smirked. Four’s eyebrow twitched.

“And who’s Piyoko supposed to be? Aside from a cuccoo, I mean.”

“My cuccoo.” At the united front of three unimpressed heroes, Legend relented. “I’ve raised this mayhem bird from before she hatched from the egg.”

“What.”

How eloquent, Wind.

The commotion had seemed to catch Warriors’ attention. Or maybe he had been listening the whole time and Legend had just not noticed. Give him a break, he had just been rudely woken up without a good reason from his power nap after the second shift of the night watch. If he wanted to be grumpy or mad about that fact, he was well within his rights.

Either way, as usual, Legend thought while rolling his eyes out of habit, the war captain butted in the conversation.

“Is that a hero spirit thing, raising cuccoos?”

When Wild and Four shot him bewildered looks, probably questioning if Warriors also had a hidden cuccoo somewhere, Warriors was quick to deny it. Weird.

“If it is, then maybe that’s where Linkle gets it from.”

Legend stared at Wind uncomprehendingly. No way someone had named their daughter that, right? Right?

“Exactly my point.”

Okay, nevermind, apparently Linkle was a thing now, and both the captain and the sailor seemed to know her. How that was possible since, supposedly, none of them had met before this journey of nine heroes, was anyone’s guess. But neither asked about Ravio living in his house earlier that week, despite those two also impossibly knowing the scammer, so Legend wouldn’t ask about this either.

Four sighed, as if incredibly tired of this conversation already — Legend had been the one woken up, not Four, the nerve — he asked “and who’s Linkle?”

“My sister.”

Wild stared. “Your what.”

“You have a sister?”

“Not the point!” Warriors flushed, pointing at Legend. Trying to redirect the dumbass trio’s attention back to him, it seemed. That fucker. “Why are you asking me about my sister when Legend is still holding that cuccoo like nothing!”

Maybe if he was more awake, or if Legend wasn’t secretly elated that Piyoko had sneaked out to join him that day, he wouldn’t have said the next words. As it was, he was way too tired to care.

“To be fair” all eyes snapping in his direction, Legend grinned. “I threw Piyoko at Ganon.”

…

“Why did I never think of that.” Wild stared off at the morning sky, looking as if the world had opened new possibilities he hadn’t been aware of before. It was probably accurate, too.

Four just gaped at Legend, for once at a loss of words.

“She almost plucked an eye out. It was awesome.”

“Weaponized cuccoos.”

“Terrifying.” Wind may have said that, but the glint on his eye told another story.

Warriors took a step to the side, putting some distance between himself and the sailor, seemingly having an internal crisis.

Huffing, Legend dropped his weight on top of his bedroll again, Piyoko flapping her little wings before gently settling on top of his head. While the others woke up and those four got their shit together, Legend was sure he could manage to sleep another five minutes.

[rahhhbananas]

IT GIRL ★

- male reader!

- fandom : atsv!

- pair(s) : miles morales x male reader

- warning(s) : not proof-read!

“How long is this going to takee???”

Pavitr whined, he sat on the fire escape stairs, mindlessly fidgeting a rock. Gwen leaning against the bars smiled, “Come on Pav, it’s Y/n. He takes hours and I mean hourssss— To get ready.” Pav groaned at that statement alone, no longer bothered about how long it would take them, but how long it take to get something to eat.

“You talkin ‘bout Y/n, the hell Miles at? ‘Is got a good sense of fashion, but not good enuff to take this long.” Hobie groaned, his own stomach growling, Gwen snorted, her eyes crinkling from how large her smile was “This is only scraping the surface of those two. Once you’ve know them for a year or two, you start to prepare ahead of time.” Gwen reached into her bag, handing the two a bag of chips. “There, that should hold you guys.”

The two thanked their prepared friend, before their attention was draw to the window that had just opened. Miles walked out, he wore a black baggy jeans, a white shirt, and ontop of it navy blue varsity jacket, with white air forces. He smiled, as if he hasn’t been making the entire friend group starve for the past 20 minutes “Miles, my guy!!!”

“Oi! I trademarked that!”

“What?”

“I’m surprised you did anything involved being in the same room as a government official.”

“Yeah, ‘ve gotten real desperate after the last situation with Pav.”

“That wasn’t my faulttt!”

“What situation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Okay..ignoring that totally normal..conversation, where’s Y/n? He’s glamorous and all, but taking this long? Is outrageous.” Gwen asked, sneaking a chip from Hobie’s bag.

“I’M HERE!! ★”

The group looked up, seeing Y/n on the set of stairs above them. He wore a cropped pink jacket, baggy jeans, white air forces, and on his back was a hello kitty backpack “So, where we feeling? Chinese, Pizza, BBQ? Oh, or Ice cream!” He rambled, not noticing the few irritated looks he got from his friends. “ANYTHING!” Pav screamed, using his hands to cover his face, “Anything, please.” Miles smiled, leading the group down the street, they chatted still deciding on their snacking spot.

“Oh! That cat café!” Gwen suggested, her eyes lite up at the thought of being surrounded by cute animals while enjoying a meal.

“Nah, ‘m allergic to cats.”

“And you care about your health for once? Shocking.”

“You don’t get it, bruv. My eyes swell so much I start thinking I’m in a kaleidoscope..”

“How does that even work?”

“We traveled through universes to get here, and that’s what you wanna ask?”

“Why don’t you say that louder, Pav? Maybe some crazy scientist will hear and try to kill us.”

“That’s so outta pocket.”

“lol.”

“Wow.”

“I have never heard someone say ‘lol’ in real life..that’s so— icky.”

“Pheww, good job, Gwen. Y/n has a new ‘ick’. Bravo.”

The group walked into the restaurant. It seemed to be based off the heros of Brooklyn, “Ugh, why’d we have to come to your restaurant?” Pav groaned. Hobie snorted, picking at the small figures of Spiderman, Miles’ black and red suit somehow blending with the restaurant aesthetic— he even noticed a few figures of the original hero, his merchandise in a corner that formed a sort of mural. The cashier took their orders, before they sat down at a booth near to the window.

“Do they have some of my merchandise!?!” Y/n looked around, his eyes searching the brick walls for some bit of pink. He sighed, giving up, slumping down in his seat, “Hey look, I think I saw some pink over there!” Hobie pointed, Y/n blinded by joy looked at where the teen was pointing to see a piece of chewed up bubble gum stucked to the floor, “…Why do I feel like we have issues, no matter the universe.”

“Hey, the people want what they want. And it’s clearly not you.”

“Wow, no consistency, or manners. Red flag there, Hobie.”

“Yikes.” Pavitr mumbled, sipping from his drink. Hobie however shook it off, relaxing more into his position. Miles took out his phone, snapping a few pics of the group waiting on their food, before the waiter arrived, handing out the dishes efficiently.

AN HOUR LATER!! ★

“Man, I am stuffed!” Hobie cackled, getting up from his seat. Gwen rolled her eyes, before looking at Y/n, he took his card and receipt back from the waiter. Joining his friends at the exit, the sun was starting to go down. “Damn, sundown already?” Hobie looked at his watch, noticing how late it truly was. Gwen laughed, “We left pretty late, because of two certain people.” Gwen jerked her head towards Y/n and Miles who were mindlessly talking about something while holding hands, the way they childishly would swing them every once and then looked somewhat endearing.

“We should head back to our universes though. Miguel set a curfew for a reason.”

“Or, we could brea-“

“Nope, the guy looked like he wanted to blow a vein last time I saw him. And I’m not looking to get chased on all fours, likes Miles.”

“Oh, come on! He wouldn’t catch us!”

“Hobart, no. We’re leaving.”

“Miguel not catching us? Hobie you are HILARIOUS!”

Gwen grabbed Hobie’s wrist, who although didn’t oppose the gesture physically, he looked to be doing it mentally “You’re lucky ‘m tired, Gwendy.” Gwen rolled her eyes, before throwing the lanky teen into the portal, waving goodbye to the two. Pavitr jumped through as well, shooting finger-guns at Miles before falling into the colorful abyss.

Miles smiled, wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulder. Making their route to his apartment. The couple chatted on their way home, talking about nothing important, but what’d they do when they got outta highschool, you know, the norm. Until they arrived at Y/n’s apartments, Miles walked him to the stairs, his eyes focused on Y/n’s each move.

“Thanks for buying our food today, especially with how Hobie and Pavitr ate. I’ll find a way to pay you back…” Miles mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck. Y/n smiled, grabbing Miles’ arm “No. don’t worry about it, you guys are my friends. I’d spend much more money on all of you If I could.” Miles laughed, “Yeah. But I’m starting to think Hobie’s allergic to paying for…well, anything.”

Y/n laughed loudly “And what you said earlier, I don’t have a lot of ‘icks” Miles scoffed, looking at his boyfriend in disbelief at the statement. Y/n groaned “I’m serious! You’ll never have to worry about icks, because you’re perfect.”

“Really? Thanks. 😏”

“You know, except that.”

“A smirk!?!?!”

“Yeah, it makes you look like a Sonic character.”

“What??”

“But I should go, my dad’s probably already made lunch.” Y/n kissed Miles on the cheek, before walking into the apartment doors.

“Wha? You can’t walks away like that!!”

“Is it a sonic character you hate??”

“What? No, i love Shadow!”