#it truly has felt like watching paint dry

[iateabunchofsmartiesandnowimdumb]

maybe neil gaiman's just still in the brain but i've been thinking a lot about writing processes/disciplines/routines and i mean. yeah. sometimes writing is a lot of just sitting there doing nothing and thinking (which maybe isn't really doing nothing but can feel like a lot of nothing if a bunch of time goes by and not a lot of words end up on the page). but like. it's still work, it's still writing. it's like watching paint dry maybe. like sometimes it's really boring and almost feels fruitless but then eventually the paint's dry and it clicks that your wall's all nice and painted now. like just because watching the paint dry is boring doesn't mean the paint isn't doing its job or isn't beneficial. the only problem with this analogy is that painting a wall is crucial to having a painted wall but actually watching the paint dry maybe isn't whereas sometimes it really is crucial to spend an agonizing amount of time thinking about what you're writing (or going to write). however i'm not gonna claim to be a good writer so you can just go with my not so good analogy. i'm just a gal that does sometimes write stuff (read: i'm just a gal that has been sitting trying to write stuff tonight (read: at 3am) and has been mostly sitting and just thinking and is trying to justify that)

[innieandsungielover]

A/N: This is my first ever fic that I'm posting on this account, or on skz in general, so I hope you guys like it! My inbox is open, so hit me up ig?

Pairing: Bully-ish!Hyunjin x afab!Reader (enemies to lovers)

18+ minors dni!!!

CW: Unprotected sex, oral (fem! receiving), cum eating, fucking in a public area, but no one comes inside!

WC: 3.3k

Love is a fickle thing, it always starts with an infatuation. You constantly think about them, yearn for them, cry for them. Surround yourself with the things they like in hopes of finding something in common.

You never felt you could find this sense of attraction. You watched as people fell in and out of love, but for you, it was just a figment of your imagination. 

There was only one time you were close enough to “love” someone, but instead of the feeling of contentment, it was one of hatred. You were infatuated with him, but not in the way that most would be, you could only see the negative, blinded by hatred for the man in front of you. 

He was in your art class, while you worked with clay pieces, he worked with watercolors. Everyone was in awe of his work, especially your professor. 

There were always subtle tones of love in every one of his paintings. It was his main emotion, his main drive, and it was truly beautiful.

The first time you ever saw one of his paintings was when you accidentally stumbled upon it, it being left in the classroom to dry as he went to go get coffee. 

You were working on one of your structures, an entangled face that showed a range of emotions. It was something that you wanted to achieve to show the complexity of the human mind, of emotions, but you ended up getting distracted by his painting.

You stood in front of it for what felt like hours, looking over each brush stroke, each blend of color, it was beautiful. You hadn’t realized you were crying, a few tears wetting your cheek until Hyunjin was in front of you holding out a tissue. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry” you tripped over your words as you took the tissues from his hand, thanking him. “It’s no problem, I’m actually very grateful” 

“And why is that?” you asked, dabbing the tissue at your tear ducts.“My work has never brought someone to tears” he grinned, taking a sip of his iced americano, the condensation of the drink ran down his cup like your tears just moments prior. 

“I don’t know how it hasn’t, the way you depict love is truly extraordinary, I’ve yet to see anything like it before. It isn’t even your form of painting, nor the medium, but the way you can feel the emotion pouring through the artist into their art is magnificent” 

“Such high praise from the teacher’s pet, what did I do to deserve this?” he chuckled, sitting back at his easel, playing with the brushes in the palm of his hand. 

“I’m not the teacher's pet” you glared at him, hating the way your voice stuttered as you spoke out against his accusations. “You most definitely are” he rolled his eyes, causing your eyebrows to furrow, “how else are you affording all your materials while others have much crappier ones? T-E-A-C-H-E-R’S P-E-T” he stated, enunciating every note at the end of his sentence.  

You glared at him, not feeling the need to prove yourself against his harmful words. No longer wanting to be belittled, you turned around, the clay that was previously stuck to your hands cracking. 

You tried to ignore him, truly, but every time you thought you were no longer going to see his face, there he appeared. 

At first, it was at your job, he would come at least three times a day, getting his daily Iced Americano fix. 

“Isn’t it unhealthy to drink more than one of these a day?” you asked, it was slower today so you had time to talk to him as he paid. 

“Wow, she speaks!” he exclaimed, slowly pulling out his card. “I thought you were taking a vow of silence seeing as every time you don’t even ask me what I want. I thought customer service helps you keep your job?” he joked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Well, my manager said it was okay to ignore dicks, so I think that’s what I’m doing!” you grinned, using your ‘customer service voice’ as he just rolled his eyes at you. 

“You would love to see my dick” he whispered, coming closer to the register so only you could hear him. 

Through a smile, you muttered, “If it’s anything like your personality, I bet it’s disgusting and nothing special!” 

He just tsked at you, walking away as someone had finally entered the little coffee place, coming up to the register to place their order. 

The next place was in your own apartment. You had no idea that your roommate, Felix, was close friends with the devil incarnate. 

“Why does he have to come over?” you whined, your body clad in overalls and a tank top as you took a bite of the warm brownie that he had made to help bring you to the “dark side”. 

As you took another bite, you didn’t realize the chocolate that was oozing out of the fudgy dessert, getting on the corner of your mouth. 

“He’s my best friend, plus I don’t know why you don’t like him. He’s like so nice to everyone, not to mention isn’t he your type? I do remember you loooove tall guys, people who are into are, and love reading. He checks all of your boxes babe” he giggled, watching as you glared at him, cheeks filled with the brownies he made you. 

“That doesn’t forgo him being one of the worst people I’ve ever met like he’s such a fucking asshole” you groaned, taking a sip of milk. 

“Hey! That “asshole” happens to be my best friend, so don’t talk about him like that or I’m cutting you off!” 

For such a small and kind dude, he sure had a fiery side to him. You simply nodded your head, lowering it in defeat, allowing him to pet it. 

He began to coo at you as he stroked your hair back. “Look at you being such a good roommate” he giggled, feeding you more of the brownie, which you happily accepted. 

“Now I have to go shower, so if he comes, please open the door for him and make him feel a bit welcome?” Lixie grinned at you, bopping your nose as you nodded your head, not wanting to be a nuisance to your friend. 

You scrolled on your phone, your legs hitting the cabinets underneath the counter you were currently situated on before you heard the jingle of the door knob. Before you could even jump down, the door opened itself, Hyunjin in front of it key in hand. 

“Felix, I can’t wait to tell you about this–” he cut himself off as he saw you, legs jangling off of the kitchen counter, phone in one hand, brownie in the other. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you a stalker or something?” he groaned, placing his stuff on the couch, only for his hands to cross over his body, trying to prove a point. 

“I live here, Felix is my roommate and I’m going back to my room,” you said as kindly as you possibly could, not wanting to upset Lix after he politely asked you not to be a dick. 

“I don’t believe it, you want me that bad you made up an entire scheme to try and sleep with me, I mean I know I’m irresistible, but still that’s a new low.” 

Before he could continue spewing nonsense, you took his hand dragging it to your room. You opened the door allowing him to look inside. Your bra on the floor, your bed made but a bit crumpled from sitting on it earlier, and pictures of you and your friends littering the walls. 

“Is this enough proof for you?” you asked, tilting your head to the side waiting for his response. 

Instead, he took your face in the palm of his hand, his thumb first stroking your chin then slowly shifting down to the corner of your lip. He pulled you a bit closer, your eyes roaming his face, and your breath was caught in your throat. You thought he was going to kiss you, he pulled away with a laugh. 

“What a loser, you had chocolate all over your face while trying to talk to me. Aren’t you the least bit embarrassed?” he grinned, placing the thumb that was just rubbing at the corner of your lip into his mouth, savoring the taste. 

“You mean nothing to me, so why would I care?” you shrugged, taking your wallet in your hand before slowly moving away from your dorm frame to the entrance of your apartment. 

“Tell Felix I’m not going to be back for dinner” With that you left, leaving Hyunjin dumbfounded in the middle of your apartment. 

He was just trying to play hard to get, but you were still not getting it. Did you not notice that he went out of his way to go to the coffee shop that was out of his way, only on days you were working? How he spent hours in the classroom with you just to hear what song you were obsessed with that week, it was like you were oblivious to his infatuation with you. You couldn’t be that dumb, could you?

The last and most hated place to see him was the studio. It was your sanctuary, sure your room meant a lot to you, your own private space, but while working on your art, everything was basically white noise.

From the moment you put on your headphones, you are lost in a trance. The only thing on your mind is the piece in front of you and how you could make it better from the last. 

You were so immersed in your work, that you didn’t realize that Hyunjin had entered the room, working on his own piece.  

Almost an hour had passed as the two of you sat working on your respective pieces. What you didn’t notice was that he was on the phone. You could see his lips moving, but you didn’t think much of it, partly because you didn’t care enough, and the other half was because your favorite song was playing and you had forgotten about him.

It wasn’t until your headphones died that you finally heard the words leaving his mouth. 

“She’s so fucking cute, but I don’t know how she hasn’t noticed that I like her yet. Like why else would I go to her coffee shop 3 times a day Felix? And don’t say it’s because I have a coffee addiction, I know that, but I only go there to see her. And fuck, did you see her at Bin’s party, that short skirt I thought I was going to cum right there and then. How difficult is it for her to see that I like her?” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

You didn’t even realize that you dropped your bowl of water until he looked up at you, your eyes meeting his. Before you could properly react, he quickly hung up the phone, walking towards you. 

You didn’t even realize, but you had started to run away, but you had nowhere to hide. You squatted down, trying to shield your body from him, but it only allowed him to come closer to you. 

“You heard what I said, didn’t you?” he asked as he crouched down to meet your height.

You didn’t respond, instead just nodding your head, which caused him to groan. He slowly pulled your hands away from your face, his hand on your chin. 

“I like you” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours. “Okay?” you responded, your voice quieter than his. 

“Let me show you” and with that, he captured your lips with his, pulling your body closer to him. Your lips were working in tandem as he wrapped your legs around his torso, your hands flying to the back of his neck, allowing him to pick you up. 

He pulled both of your bodies up, leading you to the closest desk, not allowing the two of you to break your kiss. His tongue licking at the seam of your mouth, begging for an entrance. 

You allowed it, your breaths getting heavier as he pushed his cock into the seam of your leggings, the room filled with your whimpers as he pressed deeper into you, allowing you to feel the hardness of him through his jeans. 

He slowly pulled away, a trail of spit connecting the two of you. “Fuck” you whined as he slowly pulled down your leggings, the cool air causing goosebumps to riddle your legs and arms. 

“Look at this pretty little cunt” he whispered, admiring the way your lips pushed against the cotton of your underwear. “Can’t wait to eat it” he grinned, tearing off your underwear causing you to shout. 

“Hyunjin what the fuck, I never said you could do that?” but you were cut off by the feeling of his plush lips against your clit, lapping away. Your hands instantaneously grasped his hair, pushing him deeper into you, allowing the only thought on his mind to be your pussy. 

You moaned as he continued lapping at it, learning every curve, where you loved being touched. He wanted to understand you, know what made you tick, he wanted to make you his. 

He slowly brought his hand up to your cunt, his finger teasing your hole before slowly pushing it inside of you. “Do you like that baby?” he whispered into your cunt, the vibration on your clit causing your eyes to roll back. 

“Feels so good” you whimpered as you lowered yourself, your back hitting the table. 

He didn’t want to stop until he made you cum in his mouth, he needed to taste you after chasing you for months. He slowly added another finger, thrusting it inside of your soaking hole, his other hand grabbing your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Gonna cum Jinnie” you whimpered, your high being near. As soon as the word Jinnie left your lips, he felt like he was going to cum, the sound of you moaning his name was ringing in his ears and he needed to hear it again and again. 

“Fuck baby, gonna cum, gonna cum on my fingers like a good girl?” 

“Yes, gonna cum for Jinnie” you whimpered, your orgasm taking control of your body, it twitching under the feeling of his fingers continuously thrusting into you, hitting that spongey spot in your repeatedly. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on” he whispered, kissing your lips once again. 

You could feel his cock pressing onto your thigh, it protruding through his jeans and all you could think about was making him feel good.  

“Want to make you feel good Jinnie” you whined, pulling away from his lips as your hands frantically went to his jeans, pulling them down to try and get access to his cock. There was a slight wet patch on his boxers, which made you whimper. 

“Please, need it” you whined, your hands trailing to your cunt, spreading your lips apart to show him how wet you were for him. 

“You are going to kill me baby” he grinned, pulling his boxers down, allowing his cock to hit his stomach. Your eyes looked at him in fear when you saw his size. He was long and thick, bigger than everyone you’ve ever been with. 

“Don’t tell me you are scared” he chuckled, running the tip of his cock along your folds, capturing your wetness along his tip. You shook your head, trying to prove to him that you weren’t. 

“It’s okay baby, I’ll go slow, let me get a condom” But before he could even reach into his jeans to get his wallet, you stopped him. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill, please need to feel all of you Jinnie” 

Who was he to say no to your cute pleading face, so he slowly pushed the tip of his cock into you, causing the two of you to moan. You at the feeling of your cunt being stretched out, and him at the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock. 

His cock was so deep inside of you, you felt like you could cum from just his cock resting inside of you. 

“Fuck baby, your pussy is taking me so well, wish we did this before instead of all this bickering, it’s like you were made for me.” he moaned while slowly beginning to thrusting into you, making sure he wasn’t going to fast.

To ensure your comfort, and to get you closer to your high because he knew he wasn’t going to last long, he began playing with your clit. “Jinnie feels so good, you are so deep inside of me” you whimpered.

He took it as a sign to start thrusting into you deeper. Each thrush hits your g-spot perfectly. With the stimulation of his finger on your clit, you couldn’t do it anymore. You started clenching down on him harder and harder. 

Your cunt was locking him in and all he could do was groan. The final push was when he moaned directly into your ear. You came all over his cock letting your moans hit his ear. He pulled out of you stroking his cock “Where do you want me to cum baby?” he whined, feeling close.

“I want it in my mouth” you begged and that was all he needed. He slowly lifted your body from the table as you fell to your knees in front of him, allowing him to push his cock into your mouth. 

He shoved it deep inside, causing you to deep-throat it, and came straight down your throat. “Fuck, I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.” he grinned. 

“It’s all your fault, you were the bully” you whined, trying to find your leggings to pull over your body since the room had gotten significantly cooler. 

“We should get dressed though, we don’t need anyone else to know what we just did” he looked around frantically, a worried look on his face, causing you to laugh.

“You just fucked me on a desk, and now you are scared?” 

“Yes, because I had this whole plan of taking you out to dinner, and buying you this really pretty dress I saw that I thought looked perfect for you and everything” he pouted. 

He looked adorable like this, and you couldn’t believe it was the same man that made your life a living hell, that was now in front of you causing you to coo at his jutted lip. 

“You are so cute” you mumbled, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Maybe love starts off different for everyone. 

_____

You walked into your apartment, hand in hand. A grin splayed on his face as you fought with him about how drinking iced americanos more than twice a day was crazy, and how his heart was going to stop. 

The two of you didn’t even realize that Felix was in your living room until the two of you heard an “I fucking knew it!” 

He was whooping and hollering around your apartment. “I knew it was going to start with this enemies-to-lover type shit and then boom y’all are going to fuck” 

Before the two of you could even utter a single word, he stopped you by continuing. “Please tell me it wasn’t on our shared couch though, it doesn’t need to be fucked on a second time” 

“You what!” you looked at him with fury in your eyes, Hyunjin just laughed at the spectacle playing out in front of him, damn he loved you. 

[jinwoosungs]

7/31/24; 03:34pm

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

{ oneshot }

warnings: unedited; dark themes.

you walk with jinwoo out of ahjin guild’s building, chattering excitedly with him about your respective plans for the weekend.

he buries his hands within the pocket of his dress pants, grey eyes looking at you softly as he payed attention to each syllable that falls from your parted lips. as you walk across seoul together, a deep voice was heard calling out your name. you stop walking with jinwoo already taking a protective stance in front of you-

only to see a tall man with fiery red hair appear before you both. you knew him as the man who was the president of the hunters guild, choi jong-in. with his burgundy suit a stark contrast to jinwoo’s darker colors, he steps forward toward the light, giving jinwoo a momentary look of disdain before focusing his attention on you.

“you’ve been avoiding me. has hunter sung been keeping you busy?”

“haha, you could say that, since i’m his guild’s primary healer and all.”

jinwoo’s eyes glow a startling purple hue as he interjects jong-in’s attempts to get closer to you. “cut to the chase, we’re exhausted and wish to go home.”

jong-in holds up both of his hands in mock defeat. “alright then, i’ll skip all the pleasantries and formalities and get to it. i would like to ask your lovely healer out on a date this weekend.”

your eyes go wide, with your mind short circuiting at the thought. you felt so taken aback (and honestly, a little flattered) that you failed to see the pure rage shining in jinwoo’s gaze. his fists were clenched tightly against his sides, and he was ready to speak up for you had you not taken the first step.

“ah, well, i don’t see why not. it might be fun.” you take up on jong-in’s offer, truly not seeing the harm in it. his crimson eyes seemed to brighten in response when he turns away, flashing jinwoo a victorious expression before waving at you.

“i’ll pick you up this coming saturday at 7. dress comfortably, okay?”

you hold your hand up as well, bidding jong-in a farewell before returning your attention back to jinwoo. a scowl was painted on your best friend’s face, watching as he bites down on his bottom lip before asking you, “are you really going to go with him?”

a sheepish expression was seen on your face as you kept both hands behind your back. “w-well, i don’t see the harm in spending an evening with him. besides, i don’t have plans, while you wanted to spend the weekend with your mom and younger sister. i don’t want to get in the way of your plans, jinwoo.”

“you could join me. cancel your plans with choi right now.”

you end up giggling at jinwoo’s poor attempts at keeping you away from jong-in. “it’ll be okay! besides, if he ends up being a shitty date, then it’ll give you a good reason to beat him up for me.”

jinwoo’s scowl never leaves his face, with him grumbling all the way back to your place, whispering lowly so that you couldn’t hear him say, “if that bastard takes your heart, i’ll kill him.”

{ … }

saturday finally arrives, and you had just gotten out of the shower. while drying your hair, you wrap the towel around your body, searching through your closet for something suitable to wear.

after some debate, you finally found the perfect outfit and began putting it on. satisfied with your choice, you were ready to complete the look with a pair of your favorite shoes when you noticed something was a bit off.

stepping closer into the light, your eyes go wide upon seeing the way your shadow lengthens from beneath you, seeming to grow larger and longer the more you stared at it. you became entranced by it, briefly wondering if jinwoo’s shadow soldiers were about to come out and tell you something-

only to let out a gasp when an armored hand was felt surrounding your wrist, pulling you into the shadowy depths as you cried out. you braced yourself for the incoming impact, but was pleasantly surprised when you felt yourself being held within someone’s tight embrace instead.

confusion paints your features as you look across the area to see a lovely meadow. surrounding you were all of your favorite wildflowers, its gentle petals being blown in the wind as it carried the sweet scent of spring in its wake. finally seeing the armored body that holds you, you gasp and take a step back, looking up to see a dark knight looking down at you.

he was lean in build, with heavy armor covering the entirety of his body from head to toe. despite his dark armor, his chest plate was something that stood out to you the most, glowing a bright purple in color, its hue reminiscent of jinwoo’s eyes whenever they glowed. even with your attempts to put some space between you and the knight, he seemed reluctant to let you go.

you look around the area, somehow knowing that this shadow soldier was different from the rest. that this place was made by him alone. recalling the millions of conversations you had with jinwoo about his newfound abilities as the shadow monarch, you take a guess at this knight’s name.

“are you the one known as… ashborn?”

laughter was heard coming from the knight, his tone rich and filled with amusement. it sounded familiar to you, yet you couldn’t understand why it did. “you’re a smart young woman aren’t you? yes, i am ashborn.”

his laughter was felt vibrating across the area when he finally turns you around so that you were fully facing him. you felt the way ashborn’s hands caress at your face with reverence and merely blink up at him, remaining silent as ashborn takes a moment to drink in your features.

after several beats of utter silence, ashborn begins to speak, “you’re breaking my successor’s heart.”

your eyes go wide at the mention of jinwoo. “i- what?”

a gentle huff was heard coming from ashborn, and you watch as the powerful knight removes his hands from you, “you heard me. if your heart falls into that man’s hands… jinwoo will find reasons to tear you away from him.”

your heart begins to race at the thought. jinwoo… did he really feel so strongly about you?

“ah… but… he is interested in cha hae-in, right?”

ashborn lets out another harsh laughter, his head shaking in response to your question. “i’ve seen the many lives sung jinwoo has lived, of different timelines and different universes… timelines where you do not even exist.”

your throat turns dry at the sudden realization, clinging on to ashborn’s every word when you shakily ask him.

“then… what about those universes and timelines where i do exist?”

ashborn meets your gaze, and you could see his eyes glowing a deep violet hue from beneath his helmet, his voice speaking with a brutal honesty.

“it has been made clear to me that he is the happiest when he is with you.”

you gasp, eyes going wide when you hear ashborn’s confession. he looks away from you and lifts up a hand, feeling the air shifting around you as a dark portal was settled behind you. letting out a deep breath, you feel ashborn place a hand behind your back.

“return to him. deep down, your heart knows who it truly belongs to.” ashborn ends up pushing you back into the portal, making you look back at him with a questioning gaze, seeing the tall knight standing solemnly still, simply watching you as the wispy shadows began to overtake your vision.

{ … }

the moment you land back in your bedroom, you were bombarded with a series of knocks on your door. still feeling disoriented, you look back to see the portal already shrinking, disappearing like smoke blowing in the wind. with a shake of your head, you let out a soft grunt, standing back to your full height before leaving your room to answer the door.

“hang on, i’m coming!” you call out to whoever was knocking with such fervor at your door.

you finally unlock it, seeing jinwoo standing before you with a bouquet of red roses in hand. “don’t go out with choi- spend the evening with me instead!”

an uncharacteristic desperation was heard in his voice and was seen in his gaze when jinwoo enters your apartment, placing the bouquet of roses within your awaiting arms. “jinwoo-“

“i know, it’s stupid of me to try and stop you now, but i’ve been in love with you ever since you joined my guild. i can’t stop thinking about you, and i’m not going to let my insecurities get in the way!”

you felt the heat settle across your cheeks, with you holding the bouquet close to your chest, “jinwoo, you… you feel the same way?”

you notice the way jinwoo’s eyes flash with realization. “you… you love me, too?”

your nod was all the confirmation he needs when he lets out a growl of your name, grabbing a hold of your chin as he pressed a searing kiss against your lips. you sigh into his kiss, not even caring that his tight hold on you was crushing at your bouquet of roses.

when the need for air proved to be too great, jinwoo pulls away first with a frustrated grunt, allowing you to be honest with him, “i-i always thought you wanted hunter cha?”

he scoffs at your assumptions, shaking his head while taking you fully into his arms. as you stand there, so caught up in the warmth of his embrace, you felt your adoration and love grow for him when he tells you these next words:

“as if i would ever choose her when you exist.”

{ … }

the man who you mistakenly called ashborn ends up chuckling, his glowing, purple eyes watching the events of the current timeline unfolding before him.

letting out a hum, he takes off the helmet of his armor, feeling his long, ebony locks of hair falling down the entire length of his back, finally revealing his true identity as being sung jinwoo.

the man who essentially became a god, locking himself in a realm hidden from both time and space itself. while watching the way his current timeline self held you so preciously in his embrace, a bitter memory fills him.

his eyes darken at the image of an alternative timeline-

a timeline where you accepted that bastard’s date and fell deeply in love with him-

a timeline where you told jinwoo about your plans of marriage and how you looked forward to building a family together with him-

a timeline where jinwoo’s jealousy and rage got the best of him, forcing the monarch to kill the bastard before stealing you away and keeping you locked in a basement-

a timeline where you had ultimately taken your own life due to how much misery you had been suffering through.

jinwoo hated the thought of being without you, so he did all he could to reverse time and lead your heart back to him-

to prevent himself from ever losing you again.

as his eyes take in the sight of his past (or was it present self?) keeping you so tightly within his embrace, jinwoo knew that he made the right choice.

he could never live without you-

he refuses to live in a world without you by his side-

and nothing was ever going to change that.

end notes: don’t mind me, this was just a brainrot that i had for a while now and was happy to be able to write and piece together in a semi-coherent story (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 6

Klaus Mikaeslon, Elijah Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: You wake up in Klaus’ bed and evaluate your newly finished masterpiece. Your brother has been doing some serious digging on your new mentor, which might get him into trouble.

Warnings: (NSFW), 18+ Only!, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Biting, Marking, Scratching, Choking, Manipulation, Sadism, Masochism, Blood Drinking, Panic, Fear, Violence, Spot 'The Mummy' Reference

Word Count: 3k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

Klaus watches you sleep in the bed he has tucked away in the corner of his studio, the paint his body helped smear across your chest now in various stages of drying as you dream in between his sheets. He brushes a strand of hair off your face as you sigh heavily, slowly tracing his fingertips over the curves of your lips as if to memorize them for future reference, pulling them away only as you roll onto your other side, smearing what’s left of the wet paint onto the black comforter.

He had originally bought this bed in case he got too caught up in his art, if the stress of fighting for the city or his family became too much for him that he no longer had the energy to drive back to the compound. He hadn’t used it for any of those reasons just yet, but seeing you here, asleep in it amidst your post-coital bliss serves as an even better purpose, knowing that you felt safe enough to rest your eyes in his presence. Or maybe he’d just worn you out.

He can’t get over the look he saw in your eyes when you finally let him in, when your slick walls practically melted around him as he pushed deep inside, holding you up against the brick wall with his restrained supernatural strength. He’d grabbed onto your throat instinctively, snapping his hips flush against your thighs as you moaned his name again and again. Only fear never graced your sweaty features, not even once, not even for an instance. Instead you gave him a look of recognition, a deranged glare of daring as if you expected him to choke you, as if you wanted him to do it. He was right about the darkness he saw in you, the fact that he didn’t have to compel you to stay or to forget any of it only further proves his point. You’re just like him… for the most part.

None of his past human lovers were able to match his animalistic needs the way you had, ripping his clothes off just to get your mouth on him a little bit quicker, to taste the salt of his skin as if your very life depended on it. None of them had dug their nails quite as deep into the skin of his back, drawing a fair amount of blood before the wounds began to heal as he growled into your shoulder. None of them had whispered his name so beautifully, encouraging each blinding burst of ecstasy he thrust up into your viscera to make you moan, groan and scream it out loud enough for it to echo off the empty walls of the open floor plan.

None of them were like you. No one could compare.

He sees the signs in you, the potential to accept him, to embrace him for who he is… for what he is, warts and all. If he actually is right about who you are and what you’re willing to accept, then the two of you will have an eternity to explore all of that together. The best strategy for now is to keep feeling you out, get you hooked on the oxytocin bond and dole out a little bit of his truth each and every time you see each other.

But it won’t be long, now. He can feel it as he grins to himself.

“Mmm, what time is it?” You wipe the sleep from your eyes before you realize that you aren’t in your own bed, flashes of the night quickly rushing in. The muscles in your thighs and core suddenly ache from the hours the two of you had spent mixing your fluids together amidst the paint, unsure of what was dripping off your body before finally collapsing onto the mattress in the wee small hours of the morning.

You turn onto your other side, greeted by the ethereal view of Klaus lying naked beside you, the sunlight illuminating his golden curls in a heavenly glow reminiscent of a Rembrandt painting. You wonder how someone with such an angelic face could bring out the absolute devil in you.

“Just after ten, love.” He runs a hand over your hip, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of your bare body. “Sleep well?”

“I did.” You let him massage your muscles for a few moments before the fatigue kicks in. “You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee in this multifunctional studio, now would you?” You sit up on your elbows and try to collect yourself, noticing the bite marks on your breasts, belly and inner thighs, grinning in acknowledgement. You could have sworn that you bit him back in similar places, scratched him even, but the only marks you notice on him are the paint and tattoos on his shoulder.

Huh.

“I hope you don’t mind a bit of chicory in it.” He stands up and walks over to the wet bar, giving you an eyeful of his perfectly shaped ass before putting a few scoops of coffee into a fresh filter and pressing the button. Klaus couldn’t get over how much easier coffee became to make over the centuries, remembering how utterly astounded he was when he used a Keurig machine for the very first time.

“It wouldn’t be New Orleans without it.” You grumble as he watches you rummage for your phone and clothes out of the corner of his eye, smirking to himself as he gets to enjoy the view before you finally find them.

“Oh, I don’t suppose it would.” He calls back, making sure you’re looking away before biting into his hand as a few droplets of his blood fall into your cup.

The marks he had left on your body were something he normally took pride in, a way to claim you as his if any other man dared to touch you in his absence. But he had gotten a little carried away and bitten you in a few places on your neck that you couldn’t see just yet. He hadn’t drawn any blood, but it was enough to break the skin and bruise the flesh in places that would draw too much attention no matter what you did to cover them up. A little bit of his healing blood would make sure they’d disappear in a matter of minutes, the chicory serving as a red herring to conceal its bitter flavor.

Problem solved. He’d be more careful next time.

“I actually prefer it,” you let him know, clasping your bra and slipping back into your shirt. “It gives it more of an earthy taste.”

“Is that so?” His heart skips a beat, hoping you aren’t so used to the taste that you’ll notice the metallic notes of his blood. “I myself prefer tea, but I remember when the people of New Orleans used chicory as a complete substitute back when the ports were closed…”

“During the civil war, right?” You pull your jeans on and zip them up. “They chopped up its root and brewed it instead? Then eventually, some of the people just couldn’t shake the habit after the ports opened back up?” You finish his thought for him, swiftly padding toward him and taking the mug with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“You know your history.” He smiles in return, pleasantly surprised as he carefully watches you take your first sip before he can relax his features into a look of genuine satisfaction.

“I know my coffee.” You correct him, taking in more of the hot liquid before spying the final result of the painting the two of you had ‘worked on’ last night.

It’s like nothing you’d ever done before, the chaotic streaks of black contrasting against magenta as different shades of red and white remain splattered across the bulk of it. If you would have told yourself a week ago that you were going to create something as wild and abstract as this, you wouldn’t have believed yourself. You smile again and take another sip as you let the image sink in, staring deep into it as it stares right back at you as if you’re trying to link yourself with it somehow.

“What do you think, love?” Klaus traces his knuckles down the back of your arm as you both look at it together, making you shudder all over again.

“It’s growing on me,” you admit, turning your head to the side to see it from a different angle before taking another sip. “I think. Can I take it home?”

“I’d much prefer to keep it here, so I can look at it whenever I want and remember just how delicately it was made, how much raw emotion went into each and every euphoric brush stroke.” He kisses your shoulder with a grin. “But you’re welcome to visit it whenever you like.”

————————

Your aches and pains seem to slowly disappear as the day goes on, as if you hadn’t just spent the night getting your back scraped against exposed brick as Klaus repeatedly buried himself inside you. Your muscles no longer contain the aching memory of being stretched and strained beyond their normal limits. Even the marks he’d left on your skin seemed to fade away to nothing by the time you met your brother for dinner that evening.

Huh.

“Well, it looks like you’re in a good mood.” Austin’s words come out like venom as he sits across from you at the restaurant, looking you up and down with somber eyes. “Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“Nice to see you, too,” you shoot back at him, scooting your chair closer to the table before glancing over at the menu even though you already know what you’re going to order. “Why are you always so judgmental, anyways, huh? I’m your sister, you should love me despite my flaws.”

“Occupational hazard, I’m afraid.” He shrugs with his almost comical sense of moral superiority. “Just like you, only you’re always trying to fix people who are too far gone. I’m not sure you can help it anymore than I can.”

“Thanks, dad.” You roll your eyes.

“I finally had time to look up that name you gave me.” He leans forward with a worried tone, quickly changing the subject to grab your attention. “Klaus Mikaelson?”

Your cheeks flush with the shame of your recent encounter, having nearly forgotten that you’d asked your brother to look into him over a week ago. It was a little too late for words of warning if that’s what he had for you, but you suppose you’ll hear him out anyways.

“And?”

“He’s not on the list of benefactors for your art gallery, or any other gallery in the city, for that matter. He doesn’t have a job, own any property, have any assets or any kind of record in the police department or legal system. All I could find on him was some ancient newspaper clipping from the thirties that matched his description.” He pauses, looking around to make sure no one else is listening. “But that must have been his great grandfather or something because that would make him over a hundred and twenty years old.”

Of course he was too good to be true.

Your insides turn to quicksand as you hear the news, forcing you to lose all semblance of an appetite as you blink about a dozen times, staring at your brother dumbfounded as he tells you the ugly truth about the man you just spent the last twelve hours with, the man you shared a bed with.

“What do you mean there’s no record of him?” You practically laugh, leaning forward as beads of sweat form at your temples, ignoring the waiter as they bring fresh ice water to your table. “Surely he has a… a driver’s license or a state ID or a passport, or something? Anything?”

“What I mean is that he’s either given you a fake name, or he’s using a pseudonym for all of his legal endeavors. Both of which are pretty concerning, sis.” His dark brows knit together as he sighs, thanking the waiter for his glass of water.

“Well maybe I spelled his name wrong when I texted you, maybe…” your sense of denial has you spinning.

“That’s not all,” he cuts you off. “After I came up with nothing as far as the paper trail goes, I started asking the people around the quarter, seeing if anybody had heard anything on the streets that could point me in the right direction.”

“On the streets?” You chuckle. Your brother is much too formal to use that term seriously.

“Shut up.” He gives you a look, annoyed. “Whenever I mentioned his name, people got a look like they definitely knew him, like they were scared of him. But then their faces suddenly changed, and they told me they didn’t know what I was talking about, that they had never even heard of that name before. One older woman told me not to mention him again if I knew what was good for me. She was practically shaking.”

Shit. You remember the way Marie had acted when she saw Klaus the other night after your tarot reading.

“So you’re saying, what, exactly? That he’s a ghost? A mafia boss? A con artist? That my ‘by the book’ brother finally believes in something that can’t be explained by logic?” Now that you think about it, it is a bit odd that his studio is so far away from the quarter that he claims to know and love so well. Were those paintings even his? Had he stolen them and pretended to be a painter this whole time just to earn your trust? Just to get you into bed? And for what? It’s not like you have any money or own any property for him to con you out of. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know you liked him, but does it even matter at this point?” His eyes soften as he watches you work through every possible scenario in your head. “He’s clearly hiding something.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” you sigh, reluctantly accepting this new truth before taking a sip of your ice cold water, hoping it’ll shock you into thinking about something else.

“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” He teases, picking up the menu.

“Shut up.”

————————

The night grew dark as you mulled over the whirlwind of a week you’ve had with your brother, laughing so you don’t cry at your poor choice in men over your shrimp and grits. You missed nights like these after he chose to move away so many years ago, leaving you to finish out your nursing degree in your hometown without your best friend at your side. It’s not that you were mad at him or jealous, you just wanted something, anything to stay the same once your mom had passed away, so you followed him out here the first chance that you got.

The two of you lazily walk down the sidewalk side by side, heads dizzy with alcohol as the food you ate does little to absorb it, an odd sense of relief washing over you as you begin to let go of the idea of keeping Klaus in your life. You’re disappointed, sure. Sad, even, at the loss of someone who seemed to really see you for who you are underneath it all. It didn’t help that he was obscenely attractive either, but there was something else, something refreshingly honest about him that you’d never seen in anyone else before. But you assume that it’s better to cut ties with someone early on before getting too attached to them, right?

At least this is what you’ll tell yourself tonight and the night after that, and the night after that, and so on and so forth. God, why did he have to be so fucking hot?

Before you can even register what’s happening, you see a man step out of the crowd and grab your brother by the shirt, pushing him into an alleyway quicker than you can logically explain. You start to call after him until you feel a pair of hands grab onto you in turn, pushing you into the same alley and lifting you up against the aged bricks as if you didn’t weigh a thing.

“We thought we had a deal with you guys.” One says to your brother, the man’s eyes darkening to a deep red as fangs appear to extend from his canines. “Don’t scream, don’t move.”

Wait a minute, fangs? What the hell? How much did you drink tonight? Panic paralyzes your body as you watch your brother go limp and docile once he locks eyes with his assailant, his muscles seeming to relax and his breathing slowed. What the hell did he just do to him?

“Don’t go asking questions you don’t want the answers to. Forget the name Klaus Mikaelson, forget Marcel Gerard, they’re just businessmen serving the quarter in ways you aren’t privy to, understand? Maybe hurting your little lady here will keep you in line… ”

“No, she doesn’t have anything to do with this!” Austin lies in a desperate plea for your life, the spell that this creature has cast on him unable to erase his love for you.

In a heartbeat, the man that holds you tightens his grip, barely giving you any time to react before leaning forward and biting into your neck. His fangs pierce your skin where Klaus had kissed you just the night before, the pain searing hot as your blood spills out onto your chest until they’re immediately ripped out of you just as quickly. His hands let go of your shirt, forcing you to fall onto the ground with a jarring thump, a jolt of pain shooting up your tailbone into your spine as you watch both of the men get ripped to shreds.

With jittering hands, you manage to grab onto the bottom of your shirt and hold it against your wound, applying pressure in an attempt to slow the bleeding. You can feel your body growing weaker by the second as your vision begins to blur, but you’re pretty sure that you recognize the man who now holds both men’s beating hearts in his hands.

“Elijah?”

[eiightysixbaby]

this is heaven, what i truly want

oliver quick x fem!reader

you’re never truly alone at saltburn. there’s always someone watching. (3.4k+)

18+ only! oral f receiving, voyeurism, unprotected piv, creampie, spit kink, use of pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby, etc.), one use of ‘sir’, cum eating (just a smidge), biting and choking (literally one brief instance of each), edging. lmk if I forgot any!

a/n: hooooo boy I wanted to try something new, so here it is! promise I’m not fully veering away from my usual stranger things content, I just desperately needed to write some filth for ollie 🤭 hope you enjoy!! I proofread this a couple times but if there’s mistakes iM SORRY. my closing statement: I can fix him your honor.

Watched. For days you’ve felt like you’re being watched. Carefully, closely, tracking your every move. Maybe the walls have eyes, who knows with a place as eccentric as this. All of the ornate fixtures and ancient paintings do have a bit of an eery, haunting feel to them.

Or perhaps it’s just because you aren’t used to having housekeepers around at all hours of the day. Duncan has always been off-putting; every summer you’ve spent at Saltburn throughout your life there’s been an energy about him that’s made the hair on your neck stand up.

Regardless, you’ve tried to shake off the feeling, wondering if you were finally losing your mind. Because here, with Felix and Venetia, Elspeth and James and Farleigh — you’re safe. They’re lifelong family friends who, as strange as they may be at times, make you feel secure. Nobody would have any business spying on you.

But oh, you should’ve known better.

You slip out of the large clawfoot tub, bare feet planting themselves on the white tile floor. Water drips from your body, the tiniest puddle forming at your feet. Grabbing your towel, you begin to dry your body with the soft fabric. You hum softly to yourself, reaching for your satin robe where it hangs by the vanity. For a moment you think you hear something, the tiniest creaking sound, and you move to look around the unnecessarily large bathroom. It’s dark in the corners where the light doesn’t quite reach, but even squinting you see nothing out of the ordinary.

You’re fucking losing it, you mentally scold yourself. It’s an old house, it’s going to make noise.

You lean against the vanity, palms flat on the marble countertop. Letting out a heavy sigh, your head hangs low, eyes closed. Get it together.

When you’ve finally steadied your breathing, you look back up to greet yourself in the mirror. You work your hairbrush through your wet hair, taking care to untangle any knots. The feeling won’t go away, your defenses raised. Eyes on you. There’s someone watching. There has to be.

You see him in the mirror before you actually see him.

Turning on your heel, a loud gasp escapes you. Your heart pounds behind your rib cage, your eyes focusing in on the figure lurking in the dark hallway. The bathroom door is open a crack, eyes you know to be blue piercing through you.

Oliver.

“What the fuck, Ollie!?” you shout, watching as he slips fully into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

You retreat, back pressing against the counter behind you. He stalks calmly towards you, caging you in. You swallow, unable to stop the way your eyes study his muscular frame, his tank top clinging tight to his torso.

“Now now,” he says, soft and steady. “We don’t want the whole house to wonder what’s up, do we?”

“What are you doing here?” you grit, nostrils flaring as you exhale heavily. Your posture stiffens, tense under his chilling gaze. “Why were you watching me?”

“Don’t act so offended, darling,” he says, stepping so close that your chests nearly touch. “Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

Your lips part, breath hitching in your throat. It’d be a filthy lie to act as if you haven’t been admiring him since he first arrived, under Felix’s wing like a timid little animal. Something about him has captivated you, intrigued you, lured you in. He’s just so quiet, so skittish. So beautiful.

Being as close to family as you could get, you didn’t want to make things awkward by putting the moves on Felix’s friend, so you avoided him when you could. But that only made things more unbearable for you. Many a night was spent with your hand between your thighs, softly crying his name into your dark bedroom. Imagining he was there with you. He couldn’t know about that… could he?

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you say, looking up at him defiantly. Lying through your teeth. You should know he can practically smell the nervousness on you.

It’s cute that you think he’d buy this.

“Oh, save the games, sweetheart,” he tuts, taking a final step closer to you. His chest fully pressed against yours now, his face dipping forward until his mouth is right beside your ear. “I know you touch yourself at night, stretching open that pretty little cunt, wishing it was me.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you really think you could be slick? Think I wouldn’t catch the way you stare at me all of the time, think I wouldn’t figure you out?”

“How long have you been watching me?��� you ask quietly, your voice meek now.

“Not any longer than you’ve been watching me.”

“I haven’t—” you start, but he presses a finger to your lips, quieting you. He raises a brow, as if to say ‘Do you really want to go there?’

God, you were so stupid. Staring at him any chance you got; looking out your window at him while he’d lounge shirtless by the pool, or peering through his cracked bedroom door one evening after dinner in hopes of seeing him changing. You were sick. And here you are, chastising him.

You keep your gaze directly on his, feeling your heart rate increase under the scrutiny of those piercing, gorgeous blue eyes. He gently holds your chin, keeping you focused on him as he studies your face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, letting his free hand come to rest on your waist. You’re reminded then that you’re only in a robe, and suddenly your skin feels like it’s ablaze.

“Oliver—” you start, your eyes big and pleading as you stare at him. What exactly you’re hoping for you don’t know, you just want him to do something.

His gaze flits to your lips, his tongue poking out to wet his own. Leaning in, his mouth ghosts over yours, barely grazing your waiting pout. He pulls back, teasing, and you chase him. Seeking out his lips until he gives in, one hand on your lower back, holding you against him as he kisses you roughly. His tongue licks into your eager mouth, swirling around yours, tasting you. It feels as though you’re nearly devouring each other, teeth clashing as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair.

You whine, a high-pitched and pretty thing when he lets his mouth find your neck, sucking harsh on the delicate skin. Rolling your hips against his, you can feel the bulge straining in his boxers and he groans at the sudden friction.

“Ol— Ollie, please,” you beg, for what it isn’t clear, but he removes his lips from your pulse point to look at you.

“Such a needy little thing you are,” he says, regarding you down the bridge of his nose. “And to think five minutes ago you were acting like I wasn’t welcome in here…”

You chew at your bottom lip, thighs pressing together involuntarily at the way he speaks to you. His tone is ultimately patronizing, and you’d have no complaints if he spoke to you like this all of the time.

He dips his head back down, this time kissing over your collarbone. Every inch of skin he kisses seems to ignite, electricity coursing through your veins. He unties the fabric belt securing your robe around your front, letting it instead fall open for him. You’re completely bare beneath the black silky fabric, and you watch the way his eyes trail down your figure. He studies you like you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and there’s an insatiable hunger behind that stunning blue. He’d eat you whole if it were possible.

Continuing his descent, he takes the nipple of your right breast into his mouth, kneading the left with his hand. You gasp, tipping your head back as his tongue rolls over the sensitive little bud, sucking on it. He diverts his mouth’s attention to the other side, then, making sure he gives equal attention to each of your tits. You can feel yourself throb for him, nearly dripping at your core in anticipation.

“Such pretty tits,” he mumbles, lips trailing against your skin. He lets his face linger between them for a moment, caressing them with soft hands.

Your mind wanders as he works his way down, kissing down your stomach, nipping at your hips. You wonder how often he’s spied on you without you catching him — exactly how many times he’s seen you touch yourself to the thought of him. It only drives you further up the wall; picturing him peering through a crack in your bedroom door on nights where you’d lay completely bare on your bed, pleasuring yourself to thoughts of his fingers and tongue. He’s sick, you’re sick, and maybe you’re perfect for each other.

You’re brought entirely back to the present when you feel his breath fanning against your cunt, his eyes peering up at you from where he rests on his knees. He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings two fingers up to swipe through your folds, collecting your slick. You shiver, mouth agape as he brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking your sweet honey from them.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, darling. And you taste so sweet,” he murmurs, pressing his face against your mound. He inhales, the tip of his nose nudging at your clit, making your hips jerk slightly. “Smell even sweeter,” he praises. He’d bottle up your scent and wear it like cologne if it were possible, anything to feel close to you all of the time.

His lips part, hot breath fanning against your exposed cunt as he collects himself. You feel his tongue lick a delicate stripe up through your folds, a barely-there sensation, but it makes your back arch regardless.

“Oliver,” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

You hear him exhale in a smug laugh before you feel his tongue again. He’s far more intentional this time, letting it lap up your juices from every crevice. You tug hard on his hair when you feel the wet muscle breach your entrance, lewd slurping sounds coming from the way he pleasures you. His strong hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, keeping you right where he wants you.

It feels like you’re levitating, ascending to a higher realm as he licks and sucks at your pretty, glistening pussy. He allows his mouth to focus on your clit, teeth grazing it in a greedy little nip before he soothes the area with his velvety tongue. You’re seeing stars when you feel two of his fingers slip generously inside of you, scissoring within your walls.

“Oh— oh my god,” you whine, your eyes pinching shut as you tip your head back.

“That’s right, baby — I’m your God. Worship me like I’m your God,” he growls, in a different headspace entirely.

While he’s usually so soft-spoken and polite, in this moment he’s cocky; more confident than you thought he’d ever be. You can’t fault him for it, though, because you do want to worship him. You want to get on your knees and pray for him.

Weeks of yearning, lusting after him from afar have come to fruition. Your longing now seeps out of you, with his eager mouth to swallow it all. He fucks his fingers harder into you, curling into your sweet spot as his tongue flicks rapidly back and forth over your sensitive bud.

The thing is, it’s been weeks of yearning on his end, too. This place, warm and wet between your thighs, is his altar — his holy ground. He wants to worship you just as much as he wants you to worship him. He’s dreamt of what you would taste like, how you’d suck him right in, and now that he has you he never wants to let you go.

“Fuck, Ollie, don’t stop,” you plead, letting loud rhythmic moans fall from your lips. At this point you don’t care if the entire house hears you; so fucking be it if they do. You know Farleigh would love something to gossip about; what better topic than how Oliver gave you a religious experience right under this massive roof?

Reading your mind, he speaks from his spot between your legs. “So fuckin’ loud, darling. You want everyone to hear us? To hear how good I make you feel?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you pant, grinding down on his fingers, nearly humping his face.

He hopes in his twisted mind that someone is listening. Hearing him claim you, mark you as his. He shakes his head back and forth, tongue laying flat as it swipes over your clit messily. You can feel yourself about to let go, to come completely undone for him.

But he can sense it, he can see it on your face that you’re so deliciously close to release, and he’s not having it yet.

Your brows furrow when he removes his fingers from your cunt, pulling his mouth away as well. You’re about to protest, about to plead with him to keep going, but he’s standing and pressing his lips to yours before you can get a word out.

There’s a painful ache in your core, and you can feel yourself still soaking wet for the man before you. His teeth bite at your bottom lip, tugging on it while he studies you with half-lidded eyes. He rolls his hips against yours and you can feel his excitement, his cock stiff in his boxers.

You paw at the waistband, attempting to free him from his confines, desperate to feel him. His fingers wrap around your wrists, stopping them from getting any closer to his cock.

“Don’t get greedy, sweetheart,” he warns. “I call the shots.”

He grabs you by the waist, encouraging you to sit on the counter behind you. You jump with his assistance, your skin cold where it rests on the marble surface.

His lips latch onto your neck once more, sucking on delicate skin, leaving tender bruises. He takes his sweet time, drawing out your agony as your arousal drips down your thighs. Pitiful whimpers crawl their way out of your throat, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. He nips at the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, licking the stinging spot afterwards to calm the ache. His thumbs tease your nipples, palms squeezing your breasts and making your back arch into him.

He removes one hand, reaching down to discard his boxers onto the floor. Finally, he grips his weeping cock in his fist, thumb running over the angry red tip. You gasp at the size of him, letting your eyes take in every inch, every vein. Committing him to memory.

“So fucking big, Ollie,” you murmur, reaching a tentative hand out, running a fingertip gently along his shaft. You’re almost surprised he lets you, and you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches in an attempt to keep his composure.

His large, warm palms move to your thighs, parting them for him. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips at the sight of you spread open for him, completely bare and wet with both his saliva and your arousal. In a moment of boldness, you pull him to you by the chain around his neck, your tongue instantly finding its way into his mouth. He exhales heavily, your tongues licking fervently into each other’s mouths, lips grazing.

You register the feeling of him lining his cock up at your entrance, the tip pressing against your folds. He slips inside, a groan leaving his lips as a shrill moan of his name leaves yours. The way he stretches you is bliss, there’s no other word for it. Pleasure that just barely teeters on the edge of pain, his cock reaching spots inside of you that your fingers could only hope to. He dips his head slightly, trailing kisses along your jawline until he reaches your ear, biting at the lobe. He starts with slow, calculated thrusts, his fingers digging harshly into your hips.

Your breathing is ragged, sinful sounds leaving you over and over as he starts to fuck you faster.

“Bet I feel so much better than your fingers, hm? Is this what you wanted all along? My cock stretching you out?” he asks, voice breathy and low. His words send shockwaves right to your core, turning you on even further.

“Yes, god, yes. Thought about this every night, Ollie. Wished you’d sneak into my room and have your way with me,” you confess, your cheeks growing warm as he smirks at you.

“Dirty little girl,” he tsks, letting his forehead rest against yours, fucking into you hard and fast.

The sounds of skin on skin mix with his pretty noises and yours; grunts and whines and sighs that reverberate off of the walls. Your nails claw at his shoulders, grounding yourself as his cock drives into your sweet spot again and again and again. Your eyes go wide when you watch him dip his head, spitting down onto your pussy, adding to the slippery mess that you’ve already created.

When he looks back up at you, your lips are parted in awe, your eyes begging for him to give you more. Spit in my mouth, please, is the unspoken cry that he understands instantly.

He grabs your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks hard enough that your lips part further. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he lets a string of saliva fall into your waiting mouth, his fingers tapping the bottom of your chin twice, encouraging you to close your mouth and swallow. You do as he wants, willing to swallow whatever he’d give you.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, slowing his thrusts briefly, giving you long and passionate strokes before returning to his previous quick pace.

“Oliver, oh my god,” you cry for him, your eyes screwing shut. “Feels so good, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

You can feel your previously staved-off orgasm approaching once more, the coil in the pit of your gut tightening more and more with each snap of his hips against yours.

“You getting close, baby?” he asks, letting his fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. It gets the reaction he wants, your eyes snapping open and focusing on him. “That’s right, you look at me when I’m making you feel this good,” he instructs, letting go of your neck. “Otherwise, you don’t get to cum.

“Y-yes sir,” you comply. “Please make me cum, I’m so fucking close, Ollie, need it so bad,” you beg, making sure to keep your eyes on his. That stunning, icy blue pierces through your soul, sending a chill down your spine. His stare is intimidating, raising the hairs on your neck just as it did each time you weren’t quite sure who was watching you.

He bites down hard on your shoulder, rutting into you faster and faster until you’re finally tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm hits you in overwhelming waves, your walls clenching tight around his thick length.

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver,” you chant his name, a prayer being raised to the sky as he shows you pure ecstasy.

His movements don’t slow, his lips greedily sucking at your neck before making their way back to your mouth.

“Gonna let me cum inside you sweetheart?” he asks between desperate kisses, your instantaneous nod nearly embarrassing.

“Please cum inside me, need your fucking cum, Ollie,” you respond, lips brushing against his. “Fill me up, make me yours.”

He groans low at your words, eyelids fluttering closed as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Warm, thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, shuddering breaths leaving him as his head tips back.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans, giving you every drop that he has, continuing to rut into you until he’s completely milked dry.

Heavy breaths fill the room, his spent cock slipping out of you, leaving the mixture of your arousals to drip out and onto the floor. Trying to catch your breath, you watch in shock as he drops to his knees once more.

“What are you… what are you doing?” you ask, a sly smile on his face as he looks up at you.

“Just making sure you’re properly cleaned up, is all. Can’t have you going to bed like this,” he muses, collecting some of the sticky mixture with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Just lean back and relax, darling. Got to make up for all those nights you spent alone.”

[lightwing-s]

Hello, could I request a Peter Pevensie x reader, where the reader dreams that she has a baby and a perfect life with Peter, then when she wakes up she realizes that it was all a dream and that makes her very sad and it costs her everything about her dream . Peter then I would like him to have a very loving moment

It was too vivid. Too real. So much that once you were awake, once you didn’t have it all, you felt… empty. You knew you shouldn’t feel this bad over a dream, but it didn’t feel like it at all.

Peter noticed you were off all day. Distant, upset. Every time he tried to talk to you, and you offered him short replies behind a weak and bland voice, a half assed smile gracing your lips, he too felt broken. Unable to help his love, unable to understand what was going on.

It was only after dinner, after you ate quietly amongst the loud crowd that was his siblings, that Peter had a proper opportunity to get you out of your head. As you walked silently towards your bedroom, he followed you in a rush, called your name, and made you stop even though you didn’t want to.

“Yn,” he said softly. Grabbing your waist and making you look at him, he continued. “Baby, what’s wrong? You’ve been strange all day. Too quiet. I’m worried.”

The frown he wore, the visible confusion and worry painted on his face, only made you feel worse. You didn’t mean to worry anyone, especially with such a silly little thing. When he watched your eyes flood with tears, he embraced you in a tight bear hug, letting you cry on his shoulder while he peppered kisses on top of your head.

He truly was lost. Nothing, no one, no anything at all, gave him a clue to why you were upset, and all he could do was bounce you two around, whispering words to try to make you feel better.

He didn’t know how long had passed since you started crying. But he noticed when your sobs got lower. Few and far between. So, slowly, he lifted your chin up so he could look deep into your tear-swollen eyes.

With a weak voice, you finally replied. “I had a dream,” you began, suddenly feeling all stupid for it all. Peter’s face morphed into one of deep confusion. A dream? Why were you this upset about a dream?

“It was… Me and you,” you continued, rubbing his waist for comfort. “And our babies.”

A lone tear escaped from your eyes, as you had believed they were done falling. From confusion, Peter’s face softened, a soft smile beginning to form on his lips. He couldn’t deny that the idea you had dreamed about a future where you two had kids of your own didn’t please him. After all, it was his dream too. But he quite couldn’t get why that made you upset. Were you perhaps not happy with the idea?

“You,” he tried to speak, but his voice suddenly cracked. “You’re not happy with it? You don’t want kids?”

Noticing how far gone from the truth he was, you shook your head ferociously. “No. No! I mean. Yes, I was happy with it. Everything! It’s just that, it was so… So real, Pete. It was as if I truly had birthed them, and not like they were part of my imagination.”

“We were playing around at the beach. Running around them. A boy and a girl. They looked like twins. We were so happy. When I woke up I was so confused, because it felt so realistic, like I truly was there. When it dawned on me it was just a dream it made me so sad. I don’t know why,” you let out a dry laugh. “It so stupid, but… It suddenly felt like all of it was so far from becoming the truth. So… unattainable.”

“Baby,” he cooed. “It’s not stupid. And it’s not unattainable. Why do you think so?”

“I don’t know. I-I… I just don’t know.”

Lowering himself to your height, looking deep into your orbs, Peter concluded.

“Yn, there’s nothing I want most in this world than having my children with you. I love you, more than anything. Do you understand? I don’t know why it ever crossed your mind we could never make that a reality, because, for Aslam, I’ll fucking die trying. Quite literally.”

Stealing a humorous laugh from you, Peter came closer, meeting your lips halfway. As you melted into his embrace, he caressed your body, joining you two closer than possible. When you ran out of breath, he rested his forehead on yours.

“Yn?” 

You hummed in response.

“Tell me more about this dream. I want to know everything about it.”

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter Ten

Loki x fem! Reader Series, A Court of Thorns and Roses/Mist and Fury AU Crossover with the various Tom Hiddleston characters.

Chapter Summary: You find the Spellbook halves and flee Vanaheim. But a twist makes it unreadable and the answer lies in Sakarr...

Series Summary: England. 1885. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you ...if you spend a week of every month with him. When the time comes to fulfill your end of the bargain, you are introduced to a world full of more magic and danger than you could possibly imagine...

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: PTSD and jealousy, Stella is anxious, Reader gets the hornies but no actual smut (not yet, we're almost there though, hehehe) , violence, and blood. Loki hurting a bitch because someone insulted his bb. Mutual pining. Light cursing. Grammar and editing mistakes.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69

Thomas was sent out to tell the others to wait until tomorrow. To take a day rather than crash, rob, and run. You were introduced to the room supposed to be your bedroom. It was a lovely guest room with light blue walls and a darker blue comforter on the bed. Stella would have adored it. Your plans were only to take time to yourself to think and settle your feet until dinner.

You weren’t expecting Loki on your bed, lounging casually. His feet were over the edge and his elbow was against the mattress.

“Well then…I see you’ve been quite a success!” he said.

Part of your instinct was to ask him what he was doing in your room. Then again…you first truly met him in his intended form in your room. It then struck you- here you could both discuss plans without fear of any overlookers.

You folded your arms.

“And your own goal of flirting with the lady-,”

“She has a name, it’s Sylvie,” he corrected.

Fire churned inside you, a petty frustration.

“She must be awaiting you in your bed right now,” you replied.

It was a little bit of emotion, the emotional fire that got out of you, slipped past your own restraint. You waited for the smirk to appear on his face. It did not. He shook his head.

“In truth- no. Sylvie only glares at me when I flirt with her. Calls me a clown. I even showed her the fireworks. She looked like she would rather watch the paint dry. I only did a little- I praised her skill with daggers and she smirked.”

He went from lounging to standing in one fluid movement.

“She will be far harder to disarm, to distract.”

“Hmmm…so what should we do?” you asked.

There was a little itch on your chin. You lifted your hand to scratch it, glancing at the star marks on your hand. So little now- like scars. You were so used to them that you barely thought of them. Loki then gave a smile as he eyed them too.

“We did not train you for hours in vain. You have the very useful gift of your sensing. You must go about and try to sense where the book is…but my advice…”

He leaned closer to you, his voice getting quieter.

“Don’t sneak about the grounds. They will ask questions. Be discreet about it,” he advised.

You met him in his eyes and gave him a nod.

“What of your own powers? Loki…you can create duplicates, correct?” you asked.

“Why, Yes. You’ve seen it yourself many times,” he confirmed.

You felt yourself grin, throwing ideas into the plan.

“Can you make a duplicate of yourself to distract them? Or of me? Or of Thomas even!” you encouraged.

He tilted his head, pondering it. The slower growth of his smile showed that he approved.

“My dear, I can do that. I can also create illusions.”

He lifted a hand up, gesticulating as he went on.

If not a duplicate, then an illusion that you are there. Batting your eyelashes and saying ‘Yes Mr. President’ and swooning before him.”

You returned your arms to folding, feeling your eyebrows lift. But you continued.

“So step one, I will use my senses to find out where it is hidden. Step two, create the duplicates of us and Thomas. Especially to keep The President and Sylvie distracted…we will search for it. Make sure Thomas knows- I don’t want him left out!” you said.

Loki agreed, as he reached for the door you turned around.

“Who was the Weaver? Whose form?” you asked.

He returned your look, away from his exit.

“What makes you ask?” he questioned.

“He was shaking when he saw her. And I did not recognize her. Like he was in a trance. Had he not somehow got himself to take the sword and stab the Weaver, Loki, I would have been dead,” you pressed.

Loki walked closer to you, his voice still quiet.

Loki’s eyes hardened only a little. A sad shadow fell over his face.

“He told me you might ask questions. As I said, his past was…difficult, shall we say. But be patient with him, Y/N. He will tell you and the others everything, in time, when he’s ready…” he said before he left your room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was to be another lovely dinner in the Knott palace in Vanaheim. Even amongst the wide tables and variants eating chicken legs with their hands as grease smeared all over their faces, you took note to cut your food into small bits and placed your napkin on your lap. The picture of polite gratitude that possessed no plans of robbery.

Even as you sat, placed next to Thomas and Loki, across from The President, your senses were reaching out, searching.

Spellbook half…Spellbook half…where are you?

Blast it, it could tell you the histories of the trees back home from miles away. Why was Vanaheim harder? Because of the magic infused everywhere perhaps?

You sipped your merlot. Thomas lifted up his glass.

“Why- all of you have been such lovely, welcoming friends. I say we must offer a toast to the Lokis. All of them,” he said.

“To the Lokis!” they repeated, eagerly taking a drink. Even the little boy gulped down the tan juice in his glass goblet.

Eyes turned over to Thomas. Smiling up at him, they leaned closer. Curious of the baronet more than they were of you or Loki. He smiled and patiently answered their questions.

“Yes- I have been trained to dance since I was a young boy! Sent to boarding school- surrounded by other trouble-causing little boys! But I passed and survived!” Thomas recalled around the group.

President Loki leaned back in his chair, one arm dangling over the upper rim. His golden horns seemed a little more polished for the evening. He did give you looks and you only looked down at your napkin with a coy grin.

“What else did you study?” Classic Loki asked the Baronet.

A servant went up and refilled everyone’s drinks from a large pitcher. You mouthed her a thank you.

“Mathematics, the sciences, the great writers of the past, and art as well…” Thomas explained.

Loki lifted up his glass to have a drink. You indeed had a look around- old paintings and busts on high niches surrounded the dining hall. You turned your head to admire them.

“My, this place does have beautiful art in it!” you commented.

President Loki lifted a glass to you.

“And you, Miss, are just one of the many masterpieces there,” President Loki oozed. You met his own look as he gave you a small toast and had a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. President,” you replied sweetly, another coy glance down at your napkin, to glance back up at him.

Loki’s grip was so tight on his wine glass that he could have broken it in his fist. An iciness in his eyes. Yet he smiled- albeit tightly.

It seemed as if the dinner ended soon. The sky was still in the evening with an orange sky outside. Thomas turned towards it. He gave you a look and then to the variants.

“May I ask, all of you lovely gentlemen and lady- do you know of these pieces? I think we would all like a little tour!” he suggested.

Loki broke out of his trance to lower his jaw at him. You inhaled sharp, cold air through your nose in a slight gasp.

“Please include me! I must know all about the collection here!” you added on.

“Yes- indeed,” Loki agreed.

The President smiled “Oh, please! Allow me…I think I am more than capable of serving as a tour guide,” he offered.

As the servants arrived to clean up the plates, he went over to you and offered his arm. You draped your arm around the President. Thomas wiped his mouth with the napkin. He stood up next to you. Loki was merely behind. The President led all of you out of the dining room into the hallways filled with more paintings. Here there were tributes of all sorts of different mythologies on oil and canvas. He pointed out one of a woman and man embracing in a forest.

“This one is of Venus and Adonis…which I assure you, it has much resemblance to me,” President Loki boasted.

It did not. You smiled at him anyway. Your senses stretched out through the room like the lights from the chandeliers above-searching, searching. He discussed bits of each one.

Then he led you down back to the ballroom, showing the portraits. You then realized it was made of the various Loki residents who lived here.

“Mine is in progress as of now. I must make sure it is large and grand, so the people know who their votes go for. Here- this one is of Boastful Loki. He wanted it done by the best painter in Vanaheim-well, second to mine of course,” President Loki explained.

As you admired the details of the fur of the painting of Boastful Loki, you kept a polite smile and reached out your senses further.

There was something tingling- yes…there was something close...like a little bell in the back of your head.

There was something ringing in the garden. The garden outside the ballroom. It was actually far larger and went to the back outside the palace. Flowers, trees, and greenery as befitting a palace garden.

But something was out there- a labyrinth. A maze of green leaves and hedges.

There was a place beneath the bushes. A dead end. So it seemed normal. So none would suspect.

Trembling leaves. A secret door. The key beneath the flurry of green roses.

And behind the door-yes in that door…on a pillar…there was a library. And on one pillar…a book. Half of one.

There. There was the answer.

As your senses retreated back to you, you smiled up at The President lovingly. The joy of locating the spellbook added genuine exuberance as you spoke to him.

“I cannot decide which piece is my favorite! Though you are a wonderful guide!” you threw in. Thomas bit back the urge to smile further in amusement, though his eyes darted between you two.

“When I decide to campaign all nine realms and when I win….I am considering having a First Lady...” The President added.

Thomas raised his eyebrows and smiled like he was holding back a chuckle. Loki seemed so tense he would break into pieces and his face looked like in a second he was going to whip out a dagger and kill his variant.

You let out another laugh as you again glanced to the ground demurely, then looked back at him under your eyelashes.

“Oh- My. Mr. President, I am far too humbled…” you added.

President Loki only smiled at you.

“Only consideration…just in case…” he crooned.

You sent out a thought to Loki. His shields were far too down all while keeping your eye on the smug smile of the President.

“It’s in the labyrinth of the garden.”

When his thought returned to you, it seemed its same cool, even tone. Despite his tense state.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this,” he responded.

“Only because it’s working for me. Tomorrow- we go to the labyrinth. It’s hidden in a dead end. Alert Thomas. Remember- this is a mission, Loki.”

“Would you seriously consider being his First Lady?”

You swallowed a little, then flashed The President another smile as your thoughts went back to Loki.

“I’m just flirting with him like you asked me to do!”

“I know, but would you?” the God of Mischief repeated.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I only just met him.”

Part of you wanted to laugh- he was becoming a sullen child. Perhaps jealous you were able to crack the President successfully. And that he wasn’t able to with Sylvie.

The next day- it was decided. After breakfast, you all would go straight to searching. All of you talked privately and agreed on a plan.

Loki would create a duplicate of himself to make others think he was just enjoying another endless day of rowdy partying and relaxing with the other guests. As well as an illusion of you and the Baronet sitting in chairs, watching and smiling among them. Only conversing in polite small talk when prompted.

Then all of you crawled out to the gardens. You both snuck out, the bright wind whipping about and the sun bright. The smell of fresh earth beneath you.

Blast it, you already noticed around the hedges- there was The President first. Loki then conjured an image of you, an illusion. Dressed in a pretty day dress of bright pink like what you were wearing, right down to the hair on the top of your head. You were sent out, batting a fan and giggling.

The President wiggled his eyebrows and reached to touch your hand. The illusion took a step back.

“If you want to, then catch me!” it’s voice- no, Your voice- dared him.

She picked up her skirts and fled into the labyrinth. The President clicked his tongue. He placed his hands in his pockets, at first in a slow walk, and then began to search through to find you- your own excited echoes of flirtatious laughter echoing through.

“Why- where are you hiding little mouse? Come here!” he was teasing back as he wandered further.

Sylvie walked about the maze. Her gaze was forward and determined. All of you hid in the corner, peeking out as Loki sent out a duplicate towards her.

“Why- you seem especially terrifying today! Which enemies are you planning to defeat?” he said with a smile that failed to be seductive.

She glared murder into it.

“Please- I know a duplicate when I see one. Stop this nonsense!” Sylvie cried.

All of you froze in time, a small surge of panic from you. She folded her arms again and walked up to where you were.

“What the hel are all of you doing loitering around like fools when-”

Suddenly there was a little whirring noise. Sylvie cursed and reached into her pocket. A strange device- seemed to be metal and a rectangle began to creak.

“It’s broken! Damnit! Loki, even your talking makes it-”

Sir Sharpe stepped forward.

“Apologies Miss, but- might I have a look at it? I could try to fix it.”

“Oh, this! Used to be a tempad back in the day- I don’t trust you know what it is. But- it’s now just used to communicate with the others.”

“I will be glad to help, I have experience with such things, allow me…”

Thomas took the device. Then briefly glanced at you two, and gave a smile.

You put a hand over your mouth to hide the grin and urge to laugh.

'Our Brilliant Baronet broke her device. Now he has to fix it and distract her! Now, I’ll create an illusion, YN darling- we must hurry!'

As soon as their heads were lowered to focus on the communicator, Thomas providing the perfect distraction, Loki’s magic wielded another sneaky duplicate and a replicate illusion of you folding your arms and smiling. The two of you hurried off before she could see.

Your senses reached out as you both scurried along, trying to catch your breaths. You took Loki’s hand and pulled him in that direction. Sure enough, there was a dead end. Complete with a few green roses blooming near the wall of leaves.

Loki bent down and located the Green Rose. He reached into those delicate petals with his white, long fingers. They greatly overpowered the little flower. But they were gentle. Touching the delicate flower with reverence. You felt yourself staring. A second too long.

His hands…they were…so beautiful…

From between the petals, he plucked the tiniest golden key. As you moved aside the leaves, there was a tall door with the tiniest keyhole. He plopped it into the door and unlocked it with a click.

“Ladies always first,” he offered, opening the door as you stepped inside.

The inside looked almost like a burrow. How you imagined the Rabbit hole of Alice in Wonderland when you read it as a child. Roots of plants and an earthy smell. The dirt beneath your feet, stains your skirts and shoes. Yet you walked forward.

It did look like a hidden library. High brown bookshelves and more books piled around. There was even an old green sitting chair with more books piled on them. You noticed there was some light coming from above. Turning up your chins, you saw a hole from above the leaves leaving a direct stream of sunlight down, down, on…

Sitting on a pillar. A torn half of a book.

Relieved and excited, you both jolted forward. You took the book, holding it to your heart. A deep sigh of relief washed over you as you looked at the god. His shoulders relaxed and there was a smile on his face. He wiped off his sides, placing his hands on his hips as he spoke.

“Well, that was-”

Loki’s voice was cut off. There was a rumble, to where you had to catch yourself from losing your balance. The library shook like there was an earthquake. Books fell over from the shelves.

“What-what’s going on?” you asked in a panic.

There were sudden, long, clanging bells from outside.

“It’s a Trap! We must hurry- now!” Loki cried.

As you ran forward, there were vines and branches that reached out and began to crawl from above the earth. They snaked over everything. Long, greedy fingers reaching toward you. Over the books in that library- and you could have sworn many of them had thorns.

You both broke into a run to the door, but several long vines snaked over the entryway, blocking it. A few thick branches reached to Loki, trapping him and then to your legs.

You gritted your teeth.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you said.

You shoved the book for Loki to hold while his arms were still free.

You opened a hand and released fire. They felt hot against your face and you could smell the burnt wood and greenery. It burnt the branches and vines, while not touching the god, freeing Loki’s feet. He wriggled his ankles out of the vines and then headed towards the door.

You let out two hands of fire- one to stop the growing vines. The other hand blasted through the door. As you hurried outside, you noticed the vines shriveled in the sunlight, turning brown and dying.

As you went outside, Loki still clutching the book. There were already bells in the distance.

“It’s an alarm- they’re raising an alarm! Quick!” he cried.

You blasted your fire through the maze- cheating a way out as you ran through. You saw a dark waistcoat and a figure jumped. It was Thomas Sharpe pacing about alone.

Loki grabbed him by the collar like a kitten.

“We have the book! Let’s flee! Now!” he insisted.

Thomas said no reply but hurried along with you. You both raced through the loud bells of the palace as you escaped out the front door.

You hurried over to the streets. Sure enough, Hal and Jonathan had ran- meeting you both in the street corner. Hal interestingly kept a sheath with a long sword dangling by his side.

“Do you have the book half?” you asked.

“Twas up to Robert to go and fetch it!” Hal breathlessly explained.

“It had a riddle and the answer was a part of the brain only he knew, And-” Jonathan began explaining.

But he was cut off as three armed guards pointed to you- with swords out.

“Thieves! THIEVES!” one boomed.

You let out a small gasp, your hand hurriedly rushing to get your dagger hidden in your skirt. Dear heavens- here it came- when-

“All of you, behind!” Hal cried.

He charged forward, wielding the sword.

Before any of you could say a word, Hal ran to the guards. He quickly thrust and parried through them. He knocked them down- then found weak spots in their helmets and sliced a sword through the first one’s skull.

You gasped, seeing the blood gush. He fell down as a corpse. He then grabbed the next one- slitting his neck and then the other one, with one clean sweep, he beheaded the third and last guard.

All of you stood speechless. Their blood was gathering on the cobblestones in a large puddle.

Hal resheathed his sword. He was catching his breath, his curls freed.

“Now, dear friends, let us get to Kved, now that this business is dealt with,” Hal spoke calmly to the amazed group.

All of you began to hurry towards the palace, when a figure in a grey suit came out, hurrying towards you all. Before you hurried none other than Robert. He was partially soaking wet, there being a squishy sound he made with each step of his shoes. Water dripped from his hair. His clothes clung to him. But he was alive and he had in his arms a book half.

“I did it! I got it! That didn’t go too bad!” he declared with a tired smile.

There was a “BOOM!” sound. The Kved Tower burst into flames and then began to crash down. Breaking into shambles. There were screams as people ran to it with buckets of water.

“You destroyed it??” Loki cried.

“Not intentionally!!” Robert refused.

Jonathan turned around with a slight roll of his eyes.

“There’s time for fighting among us later- let’s hurry back!” he insisted.

Loki made a portal and everyone jumped through. Sure enough, all of you landed promptly back in Asgard in the same meeting room. Catching each other's breaths and yet also laughing.

“Robert, why are you soaked to the bone?” you asked him.

Robert tilted his head to let water drain from his ear. He then placed the book half on the table and turned around. He took out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his pocket and frowned seeing that they were all soaked through.

“There were two riddles you had to guess. Hal got the first answer- and they gave him that sword. Then the second one- the real inner room it was in. Only one could go through it- the one who answered it. I figured out it was the brain-it’s my expertise, after all. After I grabbed it, there was a trap that made the room fill with water. But I made it out!” the doctor recalled.

Loki used his magic. A golden shimmer ran down Robert and he was dried in an instant.

“Now, everyone…let us see what it says about the spell,” Thomas suggested.

Loki placed the other half of the book on the table. Magic in a golden light reached between them- forming thin lines like stitches as the spine of the book was put back together. Everyone huddled together to watch. Jonathan reached to turn over the pages, all of you ready to see what it said. There were plenty of words on each page in big, black letters. But the writing of the book was not in a language you spoke. One you didn’t recognize. You turned to Loki, who put a hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Norns…” he muttered.

“What…what is it?” you asked.

Jonathan leaned forward. He studied it carefully.

“This…this seems to be more….nordic. But it’s old. I cannot make out what the words mean. And only one among us is accustomed to that,” the spy answered.

They all turned to Loki.

“I do not know a word of it…” he confessed.

All of you slumped. You felt your own hands bunch into fists. All of that work for nothing? A key was given…only it was still a few steps behind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You did your best not to be discouraged. Though it was hard. But there were other pressing matters- Stella.

You went over to check on your friend in her room the next day. Since your little trip left her cared for, but alone except for a few servants, you promised to spend the day with her. She sat there on the chair before the windows, both of you sewing. Frigga heard of the new guest and was generous enough to supply thread and needles. Your own work was getting done, but so many times she set down her need. She sat there, looking out the window still.

“Is there…anything else you want to say about the camp?” you asked.

“No…I just wish….I could stop thinking about it, dwelling on it…it’s yet my mind keeps returning to it, reliving it” Stella mused.

You set down your own embroidery of a bird in flight.

“It’s just now…I get worried…frightened….that…he might find me. And any moment- he could be here…” she confessed sadly.

“I promise you, Stella. He doesn’t know you’re here. And he won’t know- and this place has guards everywhere,” you assured her.

There was a knock. In came none other than Sif as well as Loki and the other variants- Thomas, Hal, Jonathan, and Robert.

“Hey, how is she? We all want to know,” Sif asked as she folded her arms.

Stella looked up at the group, then at Sif.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Lady Sif…and I heard about a new guest here. And there’s a rumor you got…got captured, yes?”

“It’s true,” she nodded.

“Well- The queen sent me. I’m going to be your guard and accompany you now, especially when our other mortal girl is busy.” Sif shrugged.

“Us ladies have to stick together when we can!” you said with a smile. You saw Stella returned it, she reached for your hand. You clutched it tight, then as she looked at the others, her smile dropped.

“I am so sorry…for burdening you all. For interfering with everything I…I don’t want to be a bother…” she apologized.

“Oh, you couldn’t be!” Thomas interjected.

Stella looked up, trying to hold in her tears.

“I only…I don’t want to be scared!” she said.

You saw it in her- pressing it back. But you gave her the handkerchief with blue flowers and told her to let it out, to cry. Then she wiped her eyes.

“I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t be complaining…shouldn’t let all of you see me like this. I know this is much for all of you-I’m a good woman, I swear I am,” she said, shaking her yellow head.

“Oh, it doesn’t make you any less good just because you're unhappy,” Robert assured her.

Lady Sif looked around the plain, grey room with the plain, almost grey-ish furniture.

“Hmmph- if you stay all day cooped up like you have this week, you’ll make your room your prison,” the lady warrior said.

Loki folded her arms. “You should have seen your dear friend when she arrived here after her own heartbreak, Stella. Now look at her- smiling and thriving. You shall too, dear lady. Just give it some time.”

Stella looked again out the window.

“I’m…I’m not sure…I want fresh air but…but I’m just scared that…that…”

“The castle is heavily guarded,” Loki repeated.

“I know yet…yet…”

Jonathan leaned a little forward.

“Miss Harris,” Jonathan stepped forward. “There is a lovely, large garden here. Hundreds of flowers in bloom, roses tended to by the queen. Birds singing in the trees above you- Sif and I could accompany you there. I promise we won’t let you out of our sight for a second.” he offered.

She looked up at him. Her blue eyes became a little brighter.

“That sounds…very nice…as long as Sif or YN is there too,” she replied.

You gave her a smile. You remembered when you were still so used to your own time—getting used to being alone with men. No watching eyes. At least here, there would be some safety.

“The Gardens have lovely roses. And there’s a certain tree…the queen told me something about it, Stella. I’ll show you. I'll come up to join and tell you what she said right after I’m done training,” you told Stella.

Sif got up and opened the door, leading the way. The Night Manager offered his arm and she wrapped around it, walking over to the gardens.

As you passed by to go to the training room, there was a window overlooking the gardens. You saw them sitting on a bench outside. Indeed, the fresh air and the sight of flowers gave a warmth to Stella’s face. There was a peaceful smile on it. She walked about as Sif strolled around, hands in her pockets. Then she returned to sit on the bench there next to Jonathan. Sif kept chatting at them-you couldn’t hear what. Jonathan kept quiet- listening more than speaking. Sometimes gazing at Stella. Wisely, he only spoke when it felt needed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A week passed. Stella seemed to improve slightly. She was sleeping better at night. She wore her blue beads every day and clutched them with white knuckles less often. She did more than just stare sadly out of windows. She visited the gardens daily, sometimes staying outside for hours. If you couldn’t be there, Sif stayed by her like a guard dog who would snarl at any enemy but wag its tail at their keeper. Thor met her and shook her hand so violently you feared it would come off. She became nervous when Queen Frigga came by to see her, but the Queen greeted the new guest with warmth, offering to tell her more in-depth about the gardens, like more like a mother figure than a powerful goddess.

Yet the disappointment of the spellbook still stung all of you. As hard as anyone tried, no one could make out a word. Not even Loki. The library was scoured to its darkest corner, but there were no translation guides kept in Asgard.

Then Loki called forth a meeting, but this time, there was a smile on his face.

“I have good news. I did some searching and asking…and there is a translation guide. All is not lost.” he announced.

There was an air of excitement among everyone. Thomas jolted upright. Hal leaned in a little closer. Robert had a giant smile on his face. Jonathan blinked, as if making sure this was really happening.

“Really? How?” Robert asked.

Loki held out his hand. A small image of a planet circling around in the air was conjured over it.

“There is a translation guide to the most ancient of Nordic…in Sakarr. In the Grandmasters palace.”

“What’s Sakarr?” you asked.

“A garbage planet. Full of the lowest, seediest scum. But full of games, tournaments, sports to keep its aliens and people happy,” Loki explained.

The little planet circled around in his hands. Then it vanished in a shimmer of light. But Loki pressed that hand to his chest, continuing his announcement.

“However…they will all have eyes on me. It will require someone sneaking around to find the book. But…there is a certain image of me…I have a history there. There’s a certain part of me they expect in Sakarr. It is savage, chaotic, lawless- and we must accept it and go with it. That side of me- it will show up-”

“Then- no matter! You play up the image and we will search! All of us!” you insisted.

“There’s a plan I have…but…”

His blue eyes went from the general group to focusing on you.

“And they already know about our lady. And…there’s a certain….image of you as well, my dear, that they have of you. And one you’ll have to play up. Or else there will be suspicion.”

“Alright, what role?” you questioned, shrugging your shoulders.

“I have to warn you…Sakkar is full of impropriety. You would hate the place. And you would hate what they heard about you- this…role. If you wish not to do it, dear Lady, I understand. It will make you…uncomfortable.” he apologized.

“Just tell me what I must do,” you pressed.

Loki explained it to you in a few words.

A hand flew over Thomas’s mouth. Hal had a small smirk. Robert turned away to regain control of the urge to laugh. Jonathan only looked intently, his face still.

You blinked. Then despite your nervousness, you took in a deep breath.

“I can do it. It doesn’t sound too bad. It’s all just pretend.” you responded.

Loki tilted his head, his jaw a little loose.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked.

“It might be new…but I will do it. For the sake of our mission, I will do it.” You announced.

Loki nodded, and then he turned to the others.

Loki nodded, he then grinned. He burst into a little half laugh that came out in a puff of air. It was him as much as his green and black robes.

“Well then- let us waste no time. And Jonathan- our dear Spymaster. You are the one most used to sneaking about, finding things. It will be up to you to find the book in the palace. YN will sense it and tell you. Can you do that?” the god asked.

Jonathan nodded, giving a little smile back.

“Of course, I can.”

Loki folded his hands, laying out the plan with the whole circle.

“I am in good favor with the Grandmaster. That will be to our advantage. He will let us all in and we will distract them- him especially. YN will sense where it is. She’ll tell Jonathan. Jonathan will find and get it as quickly as he can. Then we return. Simple as that.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Right before you left, a chest was brought. There was a screen for you to change behind. You slipped off your layers of clothes. Your stockings and boots were traded for simple sandals. The dress was easy to slip on.

Sakarr was surrounded by literal garbage like the sea around Asgard. It reeked of old rust and mold, making your nose curl. The city of Sakarr had red, green, yellow, and blue buildings. Far brighter, more colorful than you had ever seen, ever imagined a building to look.

The palace was unmissable. It was so tall, taller than any other building, that you nearly hurt your neck to look up, up, up. There were large statues of grey heads decorated in the middle. Ships flew through the air easily, making you gape in wonder at them. Going through the smog and crowds of people in cloaks, you felt a little awkward in your own garb. The other men were being as polite as they could to not gape at you. Then finally, giving a mutual nod, all of you stepped inside the palace. There were armed guards in black armor with either red or yellow accents. They noted you all as friends of Loki- and especially seeing you, they let you in.

The walls in the first rooms were grey and sleek- so futuristic, more than you could have ever imagined. Your powers reached out, sensing where things were. But sure enough, perhaps because it was touched more with technology than magic, your powers located the translation book.

You nudged Jonathan, then whispered in his ear.

“The study.”

He didn’t nod to make it obvious but gave you a look back and a small smile.

Then, you found the room Loki described- there were red and yellow lights. The thumping bass of music with whirring sounds. Music where you could not name the instruments. Blasting right into your bloodstream.

Once the doors slid open, you were let in right at the front. And you could feel their eyes on you. On your dress.

It was a rich, dark green. It practically shimmered with small sparkles beneath any light. No layers were worn beneath it. It was also very low cut, almost to your naval. The dips and curves of your cleavage full on display. It had to be. Your shoulders were exposed over the small sleeves. Then finally a long skirt a high slit, showing some of your legs. A dress that would give your parents- give anyone- from back home a heart attack. Lovely and deliciously scandalous.

You could already feel the eyes all on you. Some in desire. Sure enough, there were whispers and stares. All down your cleavage and leg. You knew what they were saying.

The Trickster God’s Whore. The one fabled around Sakarr. The woman who saved her own life when on the brink of death in exchange for warming the God of Mischeif’s bed.

Let them believe that. Let them be afraid of him. If not, a little afraid of you.

You made your place around them. All sorts of odd creatures and people mingling about this way and that. Waiting for the cue. Jonathan and Robert were merely polite. Hal fit right in as he got a drink in a glass and handed one to Thomas to sip on. Jonathan was quietly scanning everything- like your own group of guards.

Then there was attention as a man appeared. A man with tan skin, grey hair, and a grey goatee but with blue eyeliner, a blue mark on his chin, and yellow robes. Everyone turned their eyes down in respect. You felt his own eyes inspecting you, the exposed skin, and then he smiled.

The Gamemaster- you remembered everything from Loki’s explanation.

“Ah- so you’re our famous courtesan. Nice, Wonderful. Hmm- wouldn’t be surprised if all of you were.”

“It’s an honor to be here. And where is he? My own master?” you asked quietly, almost sultry. Folding your hands behind your back coyly and giving him a smile.

Then in walked Loki and heads turned. His leathers- pure black with armor on certain points. A long cape that was black on the outside, and yellow on the inside. Swaggering, chin up. Eyes full of deviousness. More like the Loki who first made the bargain with you when you first saw him in his true form. Without looking he reached over to where a servant carried a tray of drinks and got one without looking away. Heads turned again and even the music seemed to be dimmed a little.

“Ah, hello there- very good to see all of you…now…I have a lady waiting for me…” he announced.

He opened his arm- going forward. Then a hand. He smiled at you, one finger beckoning you to come hither.

“Come here, my dear,” he said.

You smiled at him, walking over to his side. The air felt cold on your exposed skin.

“Why…I must rest my feet- give me a seat!” he ordered.

“Who is letting my dear friend walk about? A seat!” The Grandmaster ordered.

One creature ran over, pushing aside several guests already sitting revealing a long, plush couch. They gestured over. Loki walked forward and sat there, taking you with him. You were about to sit next to him when he put a finger up to stop you.

“Ah- you are mistaken, my pet- this may be my seat, but this is your throne.”

With a small squeal escaping you, he picked you up with his large hands and placed you on his lap. Then masking it as delight, you smiled at him. Letting out a feminine chuckle as you wrapped your arms around him. Leaning in closer.

You felt his hand go down, fingers splaying over your leg. Looking up, you saw Jonathan had vanished. Now was time for a show. Time to stall. Distract- especially as the Grandmaster was here.

There was chatter and noise as the party continued. The others mingled- made small talk. The circle keeps any attention or questions about Jonathan’s disappearance to themselves. The Grandmaster began to discuss things you had no idea about with Loki. You merely smiled, feeling his touch all over you.

Loki’s hand went down to your inner thigh, squeezing it gently. You swallowed back a gasp from it, the touch, clutching onto him.

“Now then…where were we? Ah- yes, how is the business in Sakarr? And the Champions?” he asked going to the Grandmaster. “Who won last?”

“Korg. Again. At this rate- he will be my champion! Isn’t that just splendid!” he bragged.

“Hmm yes- oh he! The giant rock! Who would have expected it of him? Well- not at all. That is why we love it,” Loki commented.

His hand went further splayed- slowly touching you, running up and down your leg. Your bare skin on his bare skin. You felt something in your breath hitch.

Something in you…was stirring. Electricity. You looked down, feeling yourself get warm all over. Loki glanced at the Grandmaster.

“Sometimes my pretty little prize gets shy- how adorable of her. It only makes her more endearing to me. But this is a welcome place for her, and for us, hm?” he commented.

“Oh-of course…and by the way, as a thank you- there’s a room ready. If you need to…enjoy her for a bit,” The Grandmaster nudged with a wink.

Loki burst into light laughter.

“I will keep it in mind for later, I only wish to enjoy the party now,” Loki refused.

He tipped your chin and made you look at him. It made your mind go blank. Your breath quickened to a slight pause as he spoke- his beautiful profile right before you.

“Do not worry, pet. You do not have to…not yet. But you’ve been such a good girl for your god-”

He leaned over and kissed your neck—a small, sensitive area. A sound came out of you, like a moan. His hand got more and more up your inner thigh. A silent confession rang in your head. You liked him touching you. You liked his hand, his kisses. You liked being on his lap.

“Let me make sure you’ve enjoyed a drink here," he said.

Then he gestured for a servant to get you something to drink and a glass like an upside down triangle was placed on a small table before you.

Yet you didn’t want it. You just wanted, silently, for Loki’s hands to stay on you.

A feeling hit you. A feeling you never paid much attention to before. A feeling maybe you never had before. But his hands- his lips, his warmth. And the feeling was strong- stronger than it had ever been before.

Something was pooling between your legs. Something damp. It couldn’t be your courses- they ended recently. It couldn’t be urine. There was no smell of it. And it seemed to increase as Loki slid his hands over your bare skin. Making it feel cold, and tingly as he kept touching you, his long fingers possessively splaying over as he spoke.

It struck you. Your mother talked with you before your wedding and even longer before, the gossip you shared among friends. About the female body. What happened before the… act. Was this when…when…

“Your shield is down. And your mind is panicking,” his thought rang out in your head.

“What’s going on? What’s happening to me?” you asked silently, remembering to keep on the sultry smile.

“You don’t know…or you’re in denial…It’s only your body reacting to me, reacting to being touched, my dear. Nothing more to be scared about.”

“Loki, I…i just…”

“If you’re uncomfortable now…”

“No! We have to keep going! At least until they return!”

His eyes turned over to you, keeping its small smile.

“Say the word, and I will make it feel even better if you’d like….” he thought back.

Your heart beat harder. His smooth words in your head did nothing to stop the wet feeling between your legs. Only made it worse. You made no response to him. Could not. You forced your focus to the bright red and yellow lights over the grey walls and the music. Forcing yourself back in the present moment.

Perhaps anyone’s hand there on you would do the trick. You grinned away the discomfort, the strange feeling of arousal…and that you liked it.

Then one being- an Asgardian, clearly with a human appearance, with a bald head and muscles with a dark beard. Clearly stepped forward to approach all of you.

“Loki, when will the god of Thunder ever be caught? What a prisoner he would make for our games!” he asked, his voice a thick cockney accent.

“Skurge, that depends…why don’t you ask my dolt of a brother yourself? He’ll be glad to dance right in here,” Loki replied, shaking his head.

Skurge’s face got tight. His voice raised.

“Come on! Persuade him!” he demanded.

“I cannot. You cannot convince him of anything…” Loki continued to refuse.

“Then would you? It’s been so bloody boring lately!” he complained.

“Why would I waste my time fighting like that? It’s far less elegant for my taste, the style. Besides, I find spectator sport far more enjoyable...among…other activities,” he replied looking at you with a smile. He lifted your hand to kiss it and you felt yourself giggle a little, getting hot and tingly again.

Skurge huffed. He backed off and took three steps, and then he turned. And insulted loud enough that it echoed.

“I bet her cunt is the only spectator sport you like now, Lokes. Enjoy your filthy slut.”

Your mouth drops its sultry smile. You pressed a palm over your lips in shock, shame, to restrain a reply. Something cold dropped in your stomach.

Loki remained still. Very still. Looking right at the smug smile of Skurge.

Then a green light shone in the god’s eyes. In a split second, there were gasps as before his feet, stretching out, two shadows of Loki emerged. They reached out into the room and grabbed Skurge, pulling him to that grey wall.

The crowd gathered, and Loki only stared forward. His face was serene but focused. His eyes glowed green.

Skurge struggled, but in vain. Then, in a blink of an eye, they pulled both of his arms and twisted them in obtuse, angled directions. You heard the cracking of bones. Skurge released a pelting scream so loud that it could shake the palace. Then the shadows dropped him- his arms broken, fractured in many areas.

Your jaw dropped. The coolness earlier forgotten.

Loki glared at him right into his eyes, his arm re-wrapped around you again for protection.

“Call her that again…and it will be your neck,” he threatened quietly.

[obsessedelusional]

Ruin My Life

Eddie Munson x fem! Reader

summary ✦ You’re a new student at Hawkins Highschool. Over the summer you befriend Chrissy Cunningham not knowing she’s the queen of Hawkins. You don’t fit in with her friends at all, start wondering if you made a mistake sitting with them. You take notice of Eddie Munson and he doesn’t notice you, annoying you. What happens when you’re finally fed up? (Modern AU)

word count ✦ 1,700 ish

authors note ✦ y’all I’ve been struggling writing smut for whatever reason so I haven’t been producing much Eddie content so hopefully y’all like this too, appreciate all of you

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

Starting at a new school is hard enough. To start at a new school your senior year is even harder. Your parent’s divorce had you and your mother moving to her home town, Hawkins Indiana. You felt guilty protesting against the move considering what lead to it. Your father cheating twenty something years into the marriage is not at all what you could ever imagine happening. To make matters worse you were the one to find him cheating. You had no choice but to tell your mother.

As an attempt to escape your new home you found a job in the mall working at a trendy clothing store. That’s where you met your first friend, Chrissy Cunningham. Little did you know that you befriended Hawkin Highs queen. When you showed up to your first day of school Chrissy’s friend group welcomed you with not so welcome arms. It was apparent they wanted nothing to do with you.

During lunch you sat nearly entirely in silence. Only speaking when spoken to. Wondering if you had made a mistake sitting with Chrissy’s crew. Would this be how you spend the rest of your senior year?

Your picking at your lunch with no intention of eating it. Your arm bent supporting your head as you try to listen to the cheerleaders and jocks surrounding you. They’re blabbing on and on about basketball or maybe football you weren’t sure. Someone’s loud laughter gains your attention.

Your busy admiring the man whose mouth emitted that sound. He has long brown curls, the most beautiful smile that features dimples, and covered in tattoos. Your first thought is you would gladly let this random person ruin your life. Thinking about how you’d let him do whatever he wanted. You don’t realize how hard your staring until he stops laughing. Must of felt your gaze because his eyes meet yours.

You’re embarrassed but you refuse to show it, sending a small wave his way. He has to glance around him just to verify you weren’t waving at someone else. Even when he doesn’t see anyone else you could possibly be waving to he doesn’t believe it. Going back to his conversation, ignoring you. Your face falls, saddened but more annoyed this man ignored you.

“Who’s that?” You ask, interrupting Chrissy conversation.

“Who?” She asks following your finger that points at him.

“The freak?”

“What?” You ask taken aback by her nickname for the beautiful boy.

“Eddie “the freak” Munson. That’s what we call him.” She laughs, you only nod in respond unsure of how to respond. Not sure if your ready to loose Chrissy’s trust quiet yet.

“If you smoke though he sells the best shit in town.”

“I don’t.” You respond, suddenly reconsidering your stance on weed. Maybe you would try it if it meant you could get closer to this mysterious man.

Your first week of school is spent by Chrissy’s side. It’s fine. Your gaining popularity points but at what cost? Her friends are about as interesting as watching paint dry. Every interaction with them feels so forced. It’s Friday and your sat at the same spot you’ve sat at all week for lunch. Contemplating whether or not it’s truly worth it.

Thankful that this seat gives you perfect view of Eddie Munson. In this short week you were able to learn tidbits about him. Apparently he’s the leader of a DND club which explains the matching shirts with his friends. Jason claims it was some devil worshiping shit. A quick google search shows it’s just an innocent fantasy game. You research it thinking maybe it’d be a way to befriend Eddie. Quickly realizing it’s a lot bigger thing to tackle than you thought it would be. Giving up just as fast but for Eddie you’d consider it.

Since the unreciprocated wave you both catch each other stealing glances. Eddie is confused why Chrissy’s latest follower was often looking his way. Truth be told you found Eddie very attractive, forming a crush quickly. Another part of you jealous of how much fun his friends would be having while your sat wishing you could join. At the same still stuck on the fact that he didn’t wave back.

One point you had mustered up the courage to talk to him. You had excused yourself from class to use the restroom. When you out of the classroom expecting an empty hallway you found Eddie bent over rummaging through his locker. He looked up from what he was doing from the sound of the door opening. It was now or never, you thought.

You start to say hello but stop talking when Eddie stands up, shutting his locker. Walking straight towards you and then right passed you. Not looking at you once while your eyes follow him.

“Never mind.” You mutter to yourself, more annoyed than before.

—

Against your better judgment you agreed to come to a party this weekend. Apparently a tradition to have one every year, the first weekend of the school year.

When you arrive Friday night the party is in full swing. Chrissy is no where to be found. After asking around some one finally says they last saw her going up stairs with Jason. Which tells you all you need to know, you will be riding solo. You find your own way to the kitchen finding a drink you can pretend to sip on for the rest of the night.

You walk into the dining room area, the table had been turned into a beer pong setup. You watch for a few moments before looking around hoping to see a familiar face only to be greeted by Chance. One of Jason’s bone head friends.

“Hey sexy.” He purrs, breath heavy with the smell of alcohol.

“Hi,” you politely smile before trying to squeeze past him.

“What’re you doing here all alone?” He asks, standing in you way to leave.

“I’m not alone. Here with Chrissy.”

“Me and you should hook up. Ya know considering your Chrissy best friend and I’m Jason’s best friend. It just makes sense, ya know?” He laughs closing in on you.

“No thank you.” You respond as his mouth has already found its way to your lips. It takes all the force you can muster up but you push him off. He stumbles backwards calling you a slur of profanities before walking off.

You take one look at the empty back yard before your headed outside through the sliding glass door. Your quiet when you shut the door hoping no one noticed you slipping out. Thinking you’ll find an escape route so you can leave.

“Fucking disgusting.” You mutter, throwing your drink down. Using your sleeve to wipe away at your mouth. You’re looking for a gate that would lead you to the front yard so you can go home.

You walk around the house finding the gate, groaning out load when you see it’s locked. You fiddle with the lock hoping it’s unlocked, it’s not. You give up and head for the door that brought you outside. Before you can reach it you are startled by someone else’s presence. It’s Eddie.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.” His laugh let’s you know he’s not that sorry.

“What’re you doing out here?”

“What’re you doing out here?” He repeats your question.

“Trying to leave.”

“Aww but you just go here.” His voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Did I do something to you? Am I missing something? Cause I’m having a really shit time and you being a prick isn’t helping.” He doesn’t say anything just grins at you with his stupidly handsome face.

“Fuck you.” You add.

“Fuck me?” His smile falls and turns into confusion, stood there with his arms across his chest.

“Yeah you. I saw you that first day and my first thought was I would let that boy ruin my life. Tried to be all cute and wave to which you ignored. Then all week long every time you catch me looking at you, you look at me like I’m the crazy one. Even when I tried to talk to you, you walked right passed me like I didn’t even exist.” Your pent up anger slipping out and crashing onto Eddie who doesn’t deserve it.

Doesn’t matter though because suddenly Eddie is moving closer until there’s only a few inches between you two. When he catches you looking at his lips, he takes the hint. Resting his hand at the nape of your neck, pressing his lips to yours pulling you in closer. Eddie’s gentleness melts your anger into butterflies as you kiss him back. He’s the first to pull away.

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“I saw what happened with Chance. Wanted to make sure you were okay but then I actually saw you and froze. I didn’t know what to say so naturally I was a dickhead, my usual route.” He explains.

“Do you want to leave?” Is your response. He nods his head yes in response. You grab his hand, heading into the party. He goes to pull away, you look back.

“If you go in there holding my hand you can say goodbye to your royal status.” He says. You just grab his hand and continue with your plans to leave. You’re almost half way through the house, Eddie close behind. All eyes are on you.

“What’re you doing?” Chrissy speaks up when she sees you.

“Leaving.” You respond stoping to face her.

“With him?” She asks, energy full of judgement.

“Yeah. Full offense Chrissy, you kinda suck and you’re friends really fucking suck. I don’t want to be your friend anymore if it means sitting by while y’all are a bunch of assholes.” You respond, the room now silence. Eddie smiling in shock but at the same time so pleased with your words.

“Whatever.” She mumbles, going back to Jason who makes some nasty comment you don’t care enough to entertain. Eddie waves goodbye with a laugh as you drag him out of the party.

“That was badass.” He says when you two are finally alone outside.

“It felt so good. I’ve been absolutely miserable this last week.” You smile, now excited for what the rest of the school year brings.

[redcoralpot]

Would you be willing to write a poly Billy x Stu x reader (preferably trans ftm) where Y/N is such like a gender fluid icon

One day he’ll be painting his nails, begging the boys to paint their nails aswell, and then the next day he’s wearing some band shirt, having Stu take pictures of him with the camera Billy got him, flexing the small but masculine body he has

Oh, and a one shot preferably pls

Thxs! And if your uncomfortable w/ this what’s so ever feel free to js ignore !

🫶❤️

Eleganti - Poly Stuilly X FTM!Reader

Summary: The heat has managed to affect all of you, and the only solution? A date at Stu's house with a dash of nail polish. You're sure they were both thrilled.

Warnings: Slight mentions of body dysphoria.

Word Count: 970

A/N: This is for my fellow trans men, enjoy! Can't believe I have to say this nowadays, but fem aligned DNI, this content is not for you. I know how Scream fangirls like to play when it comes to MLM characters and fans.

-

The summer heat truly had gotten to the three of you, with not even a cool breeze to give you relief. Rich boy Stu Macher’s parents were away for the weekend, again, which left his house the ideal place to take shelter in. If you had to be honest, you did not mind the temperature– kind of. The bottles of nail polish in your bag clinked together as you walked up the stairs; you knew Billy would be able to sit still long enough for it to dry. Stu, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure of. Not without heat and plenty of air flow.

Speaking of the devil, Billy glanced up from his book as you creaked the door open, leisurely spread on Stu’s bed. He raised an eyebrow at your appearance, before going back to reading, shifting a little to the side so you had more room to sit down. A smug grin slowly spread over your lips as you set your backpack down on the bed and unzipped it, making a show of the little, colorful bottles you displayed inside. You scooched beside it, and after setting down a towel in front of you, cracked open the first container.

Seeming to catch the smell, Billy spoke up, “Nail polish?”

“Yeah, want some?” He watched as you meticulously picked the colors you wanted, his mouth pursing.

“Not right now.”

You shrugged, applying a lavender base to your fingernails, “Suit yourself!”

Your hand flinched as the door was shoved open, smearing the liquid down your skin, only to be greeted by the eccentric figure of Stu. Upon seeing the predicament he caused, he bounced his shoulders and held up his hands beside his head, with an exaggerated frown. 

“Uh… whoops!”

He sauntered over, pressing his face into your shoulder. In response, you slapped the towel onto his face after wiping the spilled polish on the material. Stu grumbled something; it was ineligible. 

It eventually slid off on its own, with a little help from the teen shaking his head, “Suffocate me, why don’t you?”

Chuckling, you said, “You were the one who made me mess up, tough guy.”

“I totally meant for that to happen.” He slipped his arm over you, hanging like a sloth.

“If you meant it, then you have to be my test subject!”

Stu made a noise, contemplating. You wouldn’t force him to wear it, of course, but it was funny threatening something so harmless anyway. After just a few seconds, you felt the weight on your back release; Stu had moved in favor of shoving your bag into Billy to make space for himself. Then, the noodle of a guy flopped across from you, sitting criss-crossed with the most shit eating grin you have ever seen. Billy scowled at the rough treatment, but the expression was covered by the other’s knee.

He leaned forward, “Gimme orange.”

“Good choice!”

To prevent smearing, you blew on your covered nails as best you could, before bright orange coated the tiny brush in your hand. Stu seemed giddy as you took his hand, peering down, applying the cool liquid with precision. It was such a contrast to what his hand felt like; rough and as warm as a furnace. In the corner of your eye, you could see Billy’s eyes watching over Stu’s jeans, his book long forgotten. Finally, you finished, and allowed the fidgety boy to hold up his palms. His eyes were wide as he admired your handiwork, flexing his fingers with pride.

Stu tapped the top of Billy’s head with his elbow, “Hey, dude, want some of this?”

“Hm.”

“C’mon—”

“Black.”

You snickered, “I knew you’d crack.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned on Stu, holding out a hand. He shivered when you made a slight mistake, and gave you an unimpressed look as you fixed it with the edge of your towel. You could only complete one hand before he stopped you.

“Look who’s gonna be Cruella this Halloween!” Stu sneered, poking the other’s nose.

“Hey, hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You shut the bottle, carefully sealing them all back in your bag, “Fuddy duddy William could be making a new trend.”

“Never call me that again. Is this enough for you two?”

Stu cocked his head, “Lemme think… nope.”

You stretched your body out, setting your belongings on the ground. Opening Stu’s own closet, you ran your fingers over the variety of shirts and robes the guy had. In the very back, there was a band shirt, obviously too small for Stu; he grew out of it by the time he was sixteen. You held it out, studying it, before shrugging and taking it off the hanger. Your shirt flew over your head and smacked Stu in the face, but the air soothed the sweat that was gathering under your double sport bras, at least for a moment. Then, the newer shirt covered everything back up, and the dark material banned anyone from clocking the extra layers underneath.

“Why don’t we go out for ice cream?” you suggested.

Stu pumped his fist, even though your shirt was still clinging to his body. Billy shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips when Stu ran out the door, presumably to get his car keys. You, on the other hand, hesitated when you saw a shadow underneath the shirt, where your chest lay. The only other boy left in the room must have caught on, because you felt a passing hand on your shoulder and a whisper in your ear.

“You look fine, it’s normal.”

He met your gaze. However, someone was getting impatient, as a muffled shout rang through the closed window, “Coming? I’m totally getting pistachio this time, and you gotta be here to see me try it!”

-

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x journalist!Reader

One week has passed since Price's chance encounter with you, a memory that refuses to leave him. He didn't think he'd ever see you again, let alone at a dinner party being hosted by Laswell.

Tags: Extreme Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sappy Romance, Slow-Burn, First Kiss, Flirting, Banter, Sexual Tension, Build-Up, Drama, Foreshadowing Future Angst, Young Price, Break-Ups, Dinner Parties, Formal Wear, Military Inaccuracies probably, Slight Manic Pixie Dream Girl Trope, Slight One That Got Away Trope, Subtle nods at some existential stuff

WC: 6k~

Prelude | Chapter One | Chapter Two Masterlist

Chapter Three

10 Years Ago...

Price didn't know what it was about the sea which stirred such emotions in man's most mortal of hearts — Had the waves and their many dressings been responsible, or its scent that kissed the skin of others with its phantom mist? 

The ocean had a way about it that felt both all-consuming and empty, truly a beautiful force of nature. An uncertain, curious creature, never moving and yet forever changing. One can't help but stare at its glory in awe, and Price had been no better. It frightened him just as it had fascinated him in its entirety.

As a child, he'd walk the shores with his mother, most of those days so cloudy that the sea felt blinding whenever the sun would grace its waters with its glow from time to time. 

There'd been days, alongside the shore, where you two stood hand in hand as they watched the cold horizon, staring far off until his sight could no longer detail the world outside itself. From there, his imagination was left to fill in all its blank spaces; somehow, he always pictured someone on the other side, only doing what he was now, thinking the same things. Fearing the same fears.

The ocean was always so large and endless, even as a child. His mother's soft laughter swelled over the waves each time she felt her son's small grip tighten over her hands, anxiously watching as the waves would lap just a little too close to his shoes. As though the sea could swallow him whole from the shore itself.

Having grown older and seen the world and all it had to offer, returning to the shore where his gaze meets the horizon once more, he always finds himself waiting to not feel such a way again. To be able to look to the sea and not have such a stir of emotions rise in him like a flurry.

And yet each time he's seen its waves, life questions itself once more. Even now, it only takes a painting of the ocean to bring him to a pause.

A cold painting, sitting on the wall of some living room, tucked away from the other houseguests, who couldn't give a single care to the thing. It sits alone, painted in muted grays and blues, offset by the warm glow of the room. This dry canvas still paints the swell of the sea and whispers its crashing waves in just a still image.

A faint sense of dread washed over Price once he saw that his drink had now gone below half after his most recent swig. Two more sips and he'd have to return to the party for a refill; he had just started enjoying the solitude he'd found in this corner too.

The one nice thing about dinner parties was that they weren't as loud as your typical party. Everyone stayed in their little corners with the friends they came with, and it didn't look odd if one decided to stand off to themselves for the evening, which is what Price has been doing since arriving. He left the small talk to the people who enjoyed that sort of thing, entertaining himself instead with the room's decor, having been left with nothing much else to do.

Had things been his way, Price would be home right now, curled on the couch, knocked out with his telly playing in the background as white noise. It's been a suitable form of pastime for the past week, he'd argue. However, Laswell was ADAMENT about getting him out of the house. And seeing as she was already hosting a dinner party for all their colleagues, she already had an excuse made up to forcibly drag him out of his house. 

Of course, Price could have always said no; Laswell could pester at times, sure, though he knew she'd respect his wishes if he truly wanted to stay in for the night.  Seeing as she knows the man better than himself, however, she wasn't surprised when he "reluctantly" agreed to come out.

It beats the alternative, he supposes, which had been nothing more than waking up every morning to an empty room and coming home to that same empty room. Price figured a change of scenery might do him some good, and thus it's been the excuse he's used all night as to why he's still standing here. 

"The Monk by the Sea." A familiar woman's voice speaks to the right of Price suddenly. "Painted by Caspar David Friedrich," she says.  "Truly a masterpiece."

Looking over to the source of the sound, he isn't surprised to see the hostess herself - Kate. Dressed completely down all the way to her expensive, open-toed heels. It makes Price double-take every time he catches her; he's so used to seeing her dressed so... comfortably rather than formally. It truly never got old seeing his colleagues outside of their usual work settings.

Though she's still shown some restraint with her looks tonight. She'd had her hair still pinned into a tight bun and her makeup still done modestly so, not wanting to look too flashy, and yet still dressed properly for the occasion.

No doubt Price is sure Laswell's wife had a heavy hand in helping get the woman put together for the night. He only knows too well what it's like to have someone in your life to care enough to do that for you. Years ago, despite having broken up last week.

He grins, looking back over to the painting. "I take it you picked this one out yourself, then?"

"I did," Kate smiles. "I think it really brings the room together."

"Hm," Price looks around, his expression funny. "Yes, it certainly brings a... somber feel to the place, doesn't it?"

"I don't know; I figured you'd have more to say about it," Laswell jokes. "You've been over here staring at it all night, I thought you might be writing a review."

"Oh ha ha," Price finishes his drink off to that, setting it to the side on a nearby shelf. The woman gives him a look as he does, but he merely shrugs at her and smiles. "Perhaps I will," he says. "Ought to keep me busy for the next hour or two."

"Where's your date?" Kate asks, and suddenly Price is reminded that he did not come to this dinner alone.

"Yeah, about that..." Price sighs, crossing his arms with sudden amusement. "I might need to revoke your matchmaking license, Kate.”

"What makes you say that?"

Price uses his head to gesture across the room, as Kate gives her best side eye to take a look without appearing noticeable.

Sure enough, Price's date, Polly her name was — a tall, pretty redhead who looked like she modeled in her free time, was indeed having a good time tonight. Just not with Price. It hadn't even been thirty minutes before she'd split off from him, having found some other man to entertain herself with.

Right now that entertainment had been some CO Laswell invited, a tall lanky fellow with dark hair and a sharp nose that could cut paper. The man must be a comedian because Polly's laugh has been turning heads obnoxiously all night.

Price would have felt more embarrassed, having come here with her initially. However, this embarrassment hadn't been his. It had been Laswell's. The blind date had been her idea from the start.

She only figured he could use a distraction from Morgan, given she hadn't seen a lick of him outside his house since the breakup. Whenever she asks him about it, he merely acts as though it's no big deal and that it's something he'll get over. Kate knows he really wants to, and she thought she might help him with that.

However, all Kate can say when she sees his date and her coworker across the room is, "Oh." Which just makes Price laugh in response. "Yeah."

“I’m surprised you haven’t gone over there,” she adds.

Price merely shrugs. “I can’t be bothered.”

Kate goes to continue speaking. However, her attention is quickly pulled by a few other attendees who'd deemed themselves more important than Price to let their conversation continue. 

After a few seconds, she somehow managed to slip away back to entertaining her guests, having been holding that same cup of tequila in her hand since drinks were first passed out. No doubt, she's kept herself too busy talking and moving around to be drinking. Price would just pick up the slack for her then, he's decided.

He turns back to the paintings another time, staring at the detailing of the brush strokes, and the chillness of its colors.

There's a thought that keeps passing him similar to this. It comes and goes, but it keeps coming, nonetheless. That day on the beach a week ago. He hasn't shaken the thought, though it grows more faint with each passing day. In a matter of time, Price knows he won't remember this. He'll get over it. But did he want to? 

That gray day on the shore, not so long ago. He can still taste the salty air between his teeth and picture that look in your eyes just as clearly. It disappointed him to say he'd remembered more of your backside than your face. It had been the last thing he'd seen of you that day. But even your backside, as faceless and vague as a memory could be, had been a beauty worth remembering.

Eventually, Price moves himself from his corner, though it's not to return to his date. The man instead migrates back over to the drink table, finally having grabbed that other glass of Guinness he'd wanted. From there, he did his best to mingle with the crowd. Price wasn't some aloof mute, though, with recent personal events, the man can admit his mind had been anywhere but here.

At some point, he'd begun to people-watch, wondering dumb questions like where Laswell met all these people. He knew the woman was social, but damn, there were already a handful of faces he didn't recognize among the crowd. More CIA operatives and intelligence agents than anything — a bunch of people caught up in their own worlds. 

There were a surprising amount of people in black tonight, he's noticed; this dinner could easily be mistaken for a funeral, had people not been drunk. Even Price dressed in dark dress attire for the occasion, though it hadn't been a deliberate choice. The man hadn't wanted to stand out, and clearly, his gut was right. 

The sea of dark definitely managed to make the outliers in the crowd stand out. A few reds, some dark blues, a few purples even. Nothing that truly caught the man's eye, nothing until they'd fallen on something else different. 

An emerald green gown, slender fit, draping down to the floor like an elegant curtain. The backside was low-cut, revealing the slender spine of the woman that wore it. Price's blue eyes trail up each groove of their spine until they met the parts where her pinned-up hair had begun, loose strands falling from the sides.

Price could recognize that back in his sleep, and it made his heart feel as though it were about to burst from the sheer shock of it all. It couldn't be you, could it? The woman from the beach?

Price stares a bit longer from the drink table, really trying to take in the sight of this woman. Others might have taken him for a weirdo if they happened upon him right now. But she's standing next to Laswell, deep in conversation about something. It's got them both completely invested, a close friend from the looks.

After a few more seconds of staring at this woman's back, Price smiles to himself and shakes his head. Look at yourself right now, he thought, all up in sorts about a woman you spent five minutes talking to. What has he become? There was no way that woman was you, the man was being delusional he's sure. 

But... man, wouldn't that have been nice if it had been. 

As though to take his mind off this sudden awkward event, Price felt his phone buzz in his pocket and quickly stepped out to the back patio. 

The air is cold and the woods surrounding the house are pitch black, the place having been more of a resort out a ways in the woods. One thing Price had liked about it was how silent the world became the minute he stepped out here, being greeted by the distant croaking of frogs and the chirp of the crickets, the wind shuffling through the dark Evergreens.

Price steps forward on the wooden porch, moving to rest his hands on the railing ahead of him. Once the door had clicked shut behind him, he pulls his phone out, feeling his stomach turn to stone when he reads his Captain's name on the screen. 

He quickly answers. "Captain," he greets.

"Price!" The man speaks cheerfully, already tipping the English man off that this conversation would be something short. He never was the type to make social calls. "You sound like you're out right now."

"I am," he says. "Kate's hosting a dinner party."

"And I wasn't invited?"

Price chuckles. "Take it up with her, not me. I wanted to sit on my couch and catch up on my sleep."

"I doubt you need any more of that," his Captain jokes, though Price knows that there had been some truth held in his comment. "Have you been alright?"

Price has to refrain from sighing, having been tired of the babying a week ago. "I'm just waiting for our next assignment."

The man on the other line chuckles now. "I've never met someone so eager to not be on vacation."

"I've got all of my retirement to do that," Price chuckles. "Now, what's the latest?"

"I got word from the General, and we've been cleared. Brass is sending us out to Urzikstan in five days."

Now news like that might be a gut punch to some men, hell Price only got here from his last assignment maybe a month ago. However, it had been a month too long. 

Price smiles ear to ear hearing this news. Finally, he wouldn't be stuck here anymore; he could get on with his life and get back to bigger and better things. If this week has shown him one thing, it's that he needn't worry himself about being alone if he's too busy to even think about it. Eventually, he'll have forgotten, right? 

"You know how long we'll be gone this time, sir?" He asks. His Captain can all but hear the excitement in his lieutenant's voice.

"Two months, give or take," he says. "Think you'll be ready?"

"Was ready yesterday, yeah, Captain?" Price quips.

"I like to hear it."

His Captain starts to conclude himself, having said everything he'd wanted on this call now. "I'm sure after this one, you'll be due for that promotion. Though I'm not sure I'm ready to start calling you Captain yet."

"Better get ready soon," Price says. "Already got a few pointers I'll have to show you once I'm promoted."

"We'll see about that Price."

The call ends soon after a few more traded lines, yet Price remains outside, with a child-like smile and a pink rosy shade dotting his cold cheeks. Five days until something new. Five days to move on. Five days to live. 

There's so much Price can't wait for already.

The door opens behind him suddenly, the man having felt a warm breeze clash with the coolness of the outside. He hadn't turned to face them, expecting some guest needing to step out for some air for a moment.

It hadn't just been any guest, however.

"Is it cold?"

A woman's voice asks from behind him, laced with something cool and seductive. A familiar voice, one Price thought he'd all but forgotten, only to remember it as clear as day upon hearing it.

Price's heart skips a beat, his entire body having caught aflame. He turns his head to match the face to the voice, and when his blue eyes fall on the emerald green dress from earlier, it's as though all of this fresh air around him has all but left the man breathless.

His eyes completed the shape of this woman, taking in every groove and every detail, until he reached her gaze, having been met by a brightly lit-up pair of eyes, which had felt both familiar and alien all the same.

It's a good thing it was so dark out; that way, he could still tell himself you hadn't noticed his sudden enamored expression. He's sure he looked a fool right now, with that soft look in his eyes. Like a puppy who'd just been returned to its new owner.

You smile brightly at him, having both looked like everything he had remembered and yet even better than that. Beneath the night sky, you look absolutely stunning; the house light's warm glow from inside outlines you like a halo, with your hair and makeup done effortlessly so.

You look to him with just as much dazzle, seeming to have forgotten how attractive Price had been yourself. You remembered him being handsome, even underneath that tired expression he had that day (which he still does). Now, you're seeing him all dressed and cleaned up, with that cute little smile of his scrunching the man's blue eyes welcomingly. It's got you a little tongue-tied, having now beckoned his attention your way, just as before.

You both didn't speak, merely finding yourselves lost in one another's gazes. As though you both had meant to rectify the brief meeting from before in just a single moment of silence.

After what felt like a minute, you hear Price's low and husky voice speak to you. "It's not so bad," he says. 

Your smile grows larger. You step around him, leaving a sweet, floral scent as you've passed by, resting your bare arms against the cool wooden railing.

"You know," you start to say, staring off into the woods. "Had I'd known you knew Kate, I might not have done all of that in front of you the other day… I'm a bit embarrassed now…"

Price chuckles to himself before joining you by the rail, leaving just enough space so that your arms did not touch. You quickly noticed the man's restraint, having silently appreciated his respectfulness, even during that day on the beach. 

"Ah," he sighs. "It's nothin' to be embarrassed about. We’ve all been there.”

You turn to him in disbelief. “Have you?”

Price glances down at you — half lost in your gaze, and half lost in the thought that tried to answer your question. “Absolutely,” he says. Recently, in fact.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” you say. "...You didn’t mention anything about me doing all that on the beach to Kate, by the way, right?”

He shakes his head. "I hadn't."

You sigh out of relief. "Good, good," you say. "Thank you."

“Everything OK?”

You're quiet, though looking over at you, Price can see it isn't because you don't want to answer him. Rather, so many things seemed to buzz in your mind all at once that you didn't even know where to begin with a response.

“No,” you say bluntly. “But who cares?”

Price looks back at his hands for a moment to think about your words. And after a while, he simply says, "I do."

He's felt your eyes turn to him now, a sudden heavy sensation on his shoulder. When Price meets your gaze, he'd expected to see a number of things — discontent, irritation, boredom. You gave him no such look, meeting him with a warm smile instead.

"Lucky me."

You've gone and made the man blush again, and he almost curses under his breath, knowing that you've noticed now. But forever the charming sort, he simply chuckles and turns back to the woods, resting nonchalantly against the railing and soaking in this small thing. Surely he's made some deal with the devil somewhere in his life to have this kind of luck tonight, of all nights.

 “I was surprised you got in the water with me," you say. "I thought for sure you were gonna walk away.”

“I almost did,” he admits.

“What stopped you?”

Price exhales to himself as though he’d just gotten done carrying a heavy item, having pondered that question all week now. “Don’t know really…" he says. “I guess I’d just been a bit… curious.” He then extends a hand out to you, presenting you with his most charming of smiles. “John Price,” he greets.

You take his hand, daintily letting your fingers slide into his gruff grasp, as he gives you a gentle squeeze. It makes the skin on your arm tickle like a million tiny tap dancers slowly traveling over you. “I know,” you smile.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“I asked Kate,” you smile proudly. “I know all about you, lieutenant.”

Price hadn’t noticed he’d still been holding your hand, not having let go since you two shook. You made no comment on the matter yourself; somehow he felt you’d been in the same boat. Once you two had noticed, you nonchalantly tucked your hands away, turning to lean against the railing once more.

“So you asked about me then, did you?” You can hear the excitement in his tone, even as he attempts to cover it up.

“Is that a bad thing?”

He shakes his head immediately. He had been flattered in fact. “What did she tell you?”

“She said you’re SAS,” she starts. “That true?”

“And proud of it."

You take a moment to look the man up and down, as though having this piece of information confirmed somehow changed things. Deep down, Price was afraid it would; he could no longer count on his own two hands how many women have left him the second they learned he was enlisted, a fact which would never change any time soon.

By the amused look on your face, he needn't worry.

"I guess you look the part," you say.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Price scoffs playfully. "What gave it away?"

"A few things," you say. "You've got that classic crew cut look thing going on with your hair, which is sort of a dead giveaway."

"Ah, so if I had a hat on, you wouldn't know?" he teases.

You shake your head. "I'd still know."

"So it's not just the look then."

"You're very... disciplined with how you talk and move. I've only ever met soldiers who act like that."

"You like to watch other's mannerisms often then?" He asks. "Or am I just a special case?"

You giggle. "Maybe both."

“What about you then? I take it you’re not in the field.”

“Very perceptive,” you say. “Care to take a guess?”

Price thinks to himself, using this as an excuse to steal another look at you under the guise of thinking. “Detective.”

You laugh, and Price could have sworn he'd felt an entirely new emotion developing in him altogether. “Try staff writer for the city newspaper.”

Ah, he thought. That explains a lot.

"A journalist, hm?" he says. "What's the word around town then, Ms. Reporter?"

Your gaze grows provocative suddenly, your lips curving playfully, even more so when you’ve seen the concealed, little gulp he makes at the sight. A sudden slip to the otherwise masculine individual you've seen him for. Before long, he’s matched your magnetic gaze, his body shifting more so he could face you properly. Quick thinking, and even quicker to adapt. Giving you his complete and undivided attention.

"Well," you say. "Word is, this really attractive British guy just popped into town recently."

Price' snorts to himself, his eyes starting to crinkle delightfully. "Is that right?"

You nod, rather adorably he might add. "My readers are dying to know more about him."

He damn near purrs out, "You only need to ask the right questions."

Finally, he's managed to catch you off guard with that, a small chuckle having left your lips at the thought. You can hold your own on your side of the banter. Even so, an attractive man returning your advances was no doubt going to leave you flustered sometimes.

You lean against the railing once more, using the woods to help simmer down. You felt hot all of a sudden. "I'll have to keep that in mind then."

Your playfulness had felt as infectious as it did feel brand new. Like a breath of fresh air in an open field. Price only realizes now that nothing else had been on his mind beyond you here in front of him. Not his break up, this dinner, not even work. Only you. It had been an extraordinary fortune to be so aware of it, in the moment, and he knew that-- just as he knew how special this was.

“Y'know, I must admit..." Price steps in closer, his voice growing lower, cooler. Holding everything in its power to swoon you with the rasp of his words, and doing so more than well. "...I had been upset to see you run off so soon that day."

Now Price knew this conversation could go one of two ways, the first being you gently turning him down and that being the end of everything — the daydreaming, the what-ifs, the nows. Price hadn't been a fan of this first route, though he knew it well.

But as though to one-up yourself time and time again from each encounter, you don't go with the first route. You don't turn these sudden advances down at all.

Your gaze grows flirtatious, lips pursing with amusement as you've adjusted yourself to face the man fully, cocking your head back to meet his eye.

"Why didn't you follow me then?" you asked.

You see the man grow silent, your question toiling around in his mind. The whole time you do, you watch him with amusement, seeing all the finer details in the man's face, and awaiting his reply with bated breath.

"I don't know..." he said. He wishes he had followed you. "I figured you got cold feet."

Your body freezes, taking exactly three seconds before you burst into infectious laughter, playfully shoving the man at his pun. The action itself had felt so small, and yet immensely intimate. As though he's already known you his whole life.

You bring your girlish laughter down to a small simmer, having needed it from the looks. "Oh, you're a funny one, you are."

"I try to be," he says. "It helps when the audience is cute."

"Cute?" you nearly scoff. "You think I'm cute?"

"Among other things."

You take a generous step forward until you've felt your arms brush against his, and his anxious breathing paint over the bare parts of your skin. Price does not move, letting one arm continue to rest against the railing and the other at his side, his smile growing more sly.

"Do tell," you purr.

"I'm not so good with my words, love," he coos back.

"I've always thought actions spoke louder anyway."

Price chuckles under his breath, having found your wit to be both alluring and amusing... in ways he's not felt with someone in such a long time before... maybe even ever. Why didn't he follow you that day, he wonders. With you within reach again, looking up at him with a flame behind you just waiting to be fanned by him, he wouldn't make another mistake like that, he reckons.

He brings his hand up, resting it against the side of your neck and feeling the warmth of your skin send a shiver down his spine. His large hand fits in the crook between your shoulder and ear like a puzzle piece, his index finger gently grazing the skin behind your earlobe. It makes you hum pleasurably, the sound of your voice widening the man's smile.

Lowering his head, Price lets his lips come closer, feeling them feather over yours. Testing the waters, patiently, hungrily. You adjust your head, making sure that your lips were matched for him to come in; the action alone made his mind buzz lustfully. Nearly in a whisper, Price speaks.

"Likewise."

It's you who leans in for the kiss first, having brought yourself up to your tip-toes and thrown your arms over the man's shoulders. While you'd made the move first, Price makes quick work with being the dominant hand in this exchange.

He kisses you with a gruff longing, having spent the past week subconsciously daydreaming of this very scenario. Before long you've felt your back press against the railing, one hand at the nape of your neck while the other kindly held onto your hip, his thumb massaging against you at each peck you've made against his lips.

You've felt his mouth take in the very shape of your lips before his kisses begin to travel downward, stopping for short moments to steal the salt-stained taste of your perfume-scented skin. His lips curve over your chin, following the line of your jaw, as he's used his hand to cock your head to the side, giving him free range to your neck. He starts beneath the lobe of your ear, planting light kisses, which slowly travel down more and more. As he's gone on, he hears the broken gasps and breaths which quietly leave your lips, feeling the rise and fall of your chest at each of his movements.

Price could just feel how turned on he had you; if only you knew how bad you had him feeling right now too. Something told him you did, from how you let your hands continue to claw at his back like you'd begun to do. Silly woman, he'd thought. You must know that actions like that'll only make a beast out of him. And there's nothing he'd want more right now than to let that side see the light of day again.

The whole time he kissed you, he had nearly felt outside of himself, his body moving on its own accord. He's been with women who've managed to rile him up in ways he thought back on with glee. Yet in those instances, he felt some control over himself, with methods to his madness. Here with you, he couldn't predict his next actions even if they were preemptively laid out to him.

The man wanted to take his time, however. Enjoy every second that he had with you now here. After that day, he knew he didn't want to waste any more time with you at all. He'd pause time right now if he could, he really would.

"Hey, John."

A voice speaks suddenly from behind him, making you both jump from your skin. You hadn't even noticed that the backdoor had opened, nor that someone had joined you two out on the porch.

Price quickly pulled away from you, fixing the collar of his shirt before turning to face the voice which had spoken.

"Can I-"

SWOOSH!

Before the man can even process who or what just happened, he's felt a drink be thrown right in his face, ice cubes and all.

"You're a fucking asshole!" A nagging voice. A woman's nagging voice. His date from earlier. Polly... Ah, yes!

Having suddenly remembered that he'd been on a date this entire time, the man defeatedly wipes the drink from his eyes before giving himself a light shake. At least it hadn't been alcohol.

Truly, he had no idea what her problem could be; she couldn't have made it any more clear that she wasn't interested in him. Then again, if the roles were flipped, he's sure he'd feel at least in some similar way as well. This was disrespectful, no matter how it got spun.

The woman hadn't been interested in hearing what the man had to say, even as she'd just asked him a question, merely continuing herself.

"First you disappear for like the entire fucking party, then I come out here and find you with this fucking bitch-"

"What did you call me?" You quickly cut in, your entire tone and demeanor having now taken a dramatic shift.

"Hey," Price uses a hand to gesture for Poly to tone the language down. "There's no need-"

Just when he's about to finish that sentence, you've suddenly stepped in front of the man, your tiny being now fuming. It'd been one thing getting interrupted, and another thing even being a "necessary casualty" in that whole drink-throwing fiasco as well, parts of your dress having now been ruined. But to call you a bitch on top of that, when you didn't even know who this woman was... and you think Price has had a long day?

"No, I want to hear what she has to say," you bark out.

"Look," the redheaded woman starts, though the base she'd once had in her voice had suddenly disappeared, the woman recoiling somewhat at your aggressiveness. "This has nothing to do with you-"

"Well it does now," you say. "So please, go on."

Polly glares at you, giving it her last shot at retaking control of the situation. When she sees you won't back down, your arms crossed and your glare equally biting, she instead looks over at the common denominator of this drama - Price.

He stands beside you, hands nonchalantly in his pockets having merely begun watching from this point on. He hadn't expected this outburst from you, your disposition being so solemn before. He hadn't expected to be so attracted to it either. It was nice seeing you had a little fire in you.

After giving the man a good, long glare, Polly finally speaks, only she turns her attention to you.

"I wouldn't bother with him," she says. "He'll just waste your time."

With an angry huff, the woman whips back around, leaving you both with a slammed back door. Once her presence had left, an awkwardness had quickly takes its place, Price not even knowing where to begin with explaining himself.

"I'm sorry," he simply says, before his words of apology have slowly turned into a small fit of rambling. "I should have told you I came here with someone-- I would have! The whole thing had been a blind date- Kate set it up, but... as you can see, we weren't exactly well on our way..."

Price felt the word vomit pool from his mouth, unable to stop from explaining himself, almost desperately so. He meant every word, and though he'd been too lost in his own head to see for himself, you could tell he'd meant his words too.

In the midst of his talking, you ask, "Is there anyone else I should know about?"

"No," he blurts out. "Absolutely not. You have my word."

You look away for a moment, at some spot behind him in the distance. Thinking.

And then, smiling, you step back over and practically shoot yourself into the man's arms, stealing a quick but sweet kiss.

Price wraps his arms around you, before feeling his soaked clothes press uncomfortably against you. He pulls back lightly, looking down at you breathlessly. Feeling himself fall completely into you by each second.

"I'd hate to ruin your dress," he says, referring to the remnants of drink which still dripped from him.

You smile playfully. "You'll just have to buy me a new one."

Price leans back down and kisses you slowly, memorizing every bit there had been to give.

"Yes ma'am."

Chapter Four Coming Soon...

Author's Note: I'm sorry this took so long to type! Life was picking up on my end and it's been making me have to pick and choose which WIPs to type.

The next chapter jumps back to the present again. I'm sowing foreshadowing seeds around to hint at all the possible things that could have broken them up, hopefully it's not too obvious (though it's not a crazy reveal either). Also, hopefully Price doesn't feel too OOC. I always imagined when he was younger to probably be the type to unintentionally date around , and while he's still a suave hot-shot, he's still young.

But either way, I hope you enjoyed. If you'd like to be tagged/untagged please let me know. Pleeeaaasssee let me know your thoughts and how the relationship is developing as well.

Stay Tuned!

@deadbranch @homicidal-slvt @argella1300 @random-thot-generator @poohkie90 @crunchlite @itsagrimm @cj-theyoungling @febster @thaprilks @midwesternwitchery @san-emi @glitterypirateduck @embers-of-alluring @quincessimus @urfavsunkissedleo @alhaizen @crazy-phan-girl13

[slasherberry-shortcake]

●∘◦❀◦∘●How To Escape A Killer (Jason Voorhees x Male! Reader●∘◦❀◦∘●

Hello everyone! Here's my new fic, feat. Jason! The reader is intended to be male but has no pronouns so it can be read as gender-neutral.

This will be a shorter fic, I hope you enjoy! 2nd person point of view

FEM DNI PLEASE

CW: Blood and gore mentions

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

It was an early summer morning, slight rain pouring through the cool, frosted air. Wind blew through the tall trees, causing the branches of the evergreens to sway and bend. It was beautiful in the morning, you had seen days like this but every time you saw it again, it felt new. You were a new counselor at the camp, but you had lived around the area for a while before taking this job. You wanted to inspire the kids to enjoy the outdoors like you had when you were younger, and you felt like this was one of the best ways to do it. Before applying you researched the history of the camp, the history of the land, and what it truly meant to be a counselor. You felt educated enough for the position (not that there was truly much competition against you or anything) and you knew that this would be the best job for you.

It was your first day as a counselor when the rain hit, and that made you more upset than you thought it would. You loved the rain, obviously, but not when that meant that those kids who you wanted to teach about the outer world were forced to sit inside and make crafts. It was ironic to you, that the world felt like you deserved to be tried like this. You knew it wasn't a big deal, but it still was a hole in your dam.

You stared wistfully out of the clear window, the rain pouring onto the previously dry dirt, creating a thick muck outside on the the campgrounds. Internally, you groaned, knowing that this meant you would have to clean the cabin floors later. You didn’t mind good old labor, but you definitely didn’t prefer it. You glanced towards the kids making crafts, seeing a few of the sketching out whatever they wanted to draw. You looked around, trying to locate any of your co-counselors, sighing as you heard them giggle from the other room. Of course, day 1, inside and stuck with all the kids alone. “This will get better,” you whispered to yourself as a boy began to cry after spilling his paint water, “this will get better.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

After cleaning up the mess in the craft room and watching a long movie with the kids, it was their curfew. You watched as another counselor took the kids through the rain, heading towards the campers’ cabins. You finally got to go back to your cabin, take a shower, and just relax.

You got your coat and umbrella, wishing a goodnight to the kitchen staff as you left, your shoes slopping through the thick mud. Each step made a high squelch, your nose wrinkling in disgust at the vile sounds. You finally made it to the cabin, leaving your shoes on the side of the doorstep. You walked in, hearing immediate giggles and laughter from the other counselors. The counselors were supposed to be separated by sex, but naturally, what teenagers would listen to that? You grabbed your pajamas and headed to the shower, hoping to wash the pit out of your stomach.

You changed after your long, steam filled shower, opening the bathroom door. You heard obscene noises from the beds in the other side of the room, causing you to gag and make a beeline for your mattress. You collapsed against the firm bed, bonking your head against the wall as you did. You were relieved that no one decided to take your bed over, drifting to sleep as you gloated mentally about your victory.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

A loud shatter jolted you awake, your bleary eyes shooting open. You heard a loud shriek, followed by a thud. You climbed out of bed, metal flashlight in hand as you went to inspect the source of the noise. The room was dark and you were afraid to turn on the flashlight, your main focus being to use it as a weapon. As you navigated forward, you felt your foot sink into a wet and squishy pile, shuddering at the feeling. ‘Someone probably tracked mud in,’ you thought to yourself, continuing forward. That shatter could have been anything, you thought it was probably just some of the counselors being too rough with their games or play-fighting. Yet as you approached the source of the sound, your stomach dropped. The window had been destroyed, pale moonlight shining upon a pile of mutilated corpses that you had recognized as your coworkers. Your breath hitched, eyes open wide as you gazed at the massacre in front of you. What happened?

You glanced down, seeing your foot covered in not mud, but thick red goop. You gagged and fell to the floor, the overwhelming stench of copper hitting your nose. You choked on the thick air, tears spilling from your eyes. You wondered who did this, how this happened, and if the kids were okay. You whipped around, flashlight facing towards the door. You lunged for the door, hand on the doorknob as you tried to escape the murder scene.

You almost pulled the door open as you felt a rough grip clench tightly around your shoulder. You gasped in shock and pain, your body thrashing against the attacker. Oh god, you were next. How were the kids going to make it out? Why was this the way you were going to die? How could this be your first day? Your captor heaved out heavy breaths, your flashlight finding itself on the floor, though you couldn't remember when it fell.

"P-Please," you plead, squirming in the strong grip of the intruder, "Please...l-let go of me!" At your begging tone, his hand tightened, your eyes adjusting to the softly moonlit room. You could make out his silhouette, a slight glint reflecting off of a large instrument he had in his right hand.

The moon escaped from behind clouds, more light gleaming into the room. The figure had a hockey mask on, his large body covered in dark blood. He breathed heavily, his muscled chest heaving and shaking with every ragged inhale. His head stayed still as he gazed at you, his shoulders tense and rigid. The strong scent of copper hit your nose, making you gag in disgust. The intruder dropped his machete and reached his other hand onto the back of your shirt, lifting you up to meet his eye level. What was he doing?

He stood in silence, examining every part of you that he could. You weren't sure why he hadn't attacked you yet. You slowly reached your hands up, trying to pry his iron grip off of you. "Please..." you gasped in fear, "p-please let me go. What do you want from me?"

He obeyed after a few moments of hesitation, releasing you onto the ground. He continued to stare, his head tilting very slightly in what seemed to be confusion. Why weren't you running yet? You glanced up at him, and back to the door. You ripped the wooden door open, panting as you sped away from the counselor's cabin. Why had he let you go? You looked behind yourself, seeing him watch you as you ran away in fear. He spared you.

[bbori-cha]

monochrome

✦ pairing: scaramouche x afab!reader ✦ cw: loosely based on the webtoon The Broken Ring (don’t really have to be familiar with the series to understand), death, implied murder, ei yae and the shogun puppet are scara’s family, they suck, it’s gn but reader has a kid with scara, implied caste system, lmk if i missed any!

and he’s just standing there.

watching you from above, the light from his eyes has been extinguished yet once again. he watches with red, puffy eyes that aren’t fresh, but rather, they show age. weeks spent spilling seemingly endless tears but eventually ran dry. with only himself present, there was no one else to shed tears for you.

and so he stood unable to think clearly. he thought of you, he thought of his and your’s child—the child that had his deep indigo hair and your kind eyes—he thought of your warm hands, he thought of your beautiful voice that would happily call out his name, and he thought of your perpetrators. his so-called family and their servant who didn’t even bother to show their face. not that he’d want to see them here, no. but he was truly confused. they all had neglected him this entire time, but, ah, he guess it does make sense. makes sense that she was still neglecting him and really only did this for herself, because to her, you were just a stain on her legacy. this legacy that she had crafted and kept up for the past however many years that had her people worshipping her name. but you? a mediocre painter without a last name who had eloped with him and even bore a child with her kin? he and you had created a tear into the shogun’s elaborate tapestry of eternity. and her loyal aide who would do anything just to gain the favor of her master was the one who had told the shogun everything. and his sister who had dealt the final blow, destroying the only colors in the puppet’s world of black and white. he could no longer feel anything. he truly was just an empty shell with no warmth and no life, just as he once was.

it was all his fault. if you hadn’t met him, this wouldn’t have been your premature fate. you could’ve still been here, happily painting the days away just as you had been doing before. and he would’ve still been living in greyscale, but that was fine. he was used to it anyways. but now that he’s had a taste of color, he’s afraid to go back. and he’s just so full of regret. regret that he had met you and ruined your life. regret that he’s come to realize how lonely and bleak his monochrome world used to be. and you told him he was the best thing that had happened to you, and he whispered the same. but now it all just felt like a lie. because how could anything good bring you to your end?

and so he stood there, watching you with white lilies adorning your body, as you to fade into black and white.

✦ an: reposting from my main<3

[serafiel-jacobs]

Mother’s day (Fanfic)

New chapter from my main series 🩷

Pinocchio was just adding the last details to the painting, he had been working on it for weeks, and it was hard, this is the biggest painting he has ever done, he made it on a 70x100 cm canvas, big but not that big compared to for example the portrait of his brother, and it was his most detailed painting but he wanted it to be perfect, loving how it turned out. Now the only thing that was left was waiting for it to truly dry, so in the meantime, he went outside, as he had a special gift to buy.

—-

It was Mother’s Day in Krat and the streets were filled with people, all the stores full and running out of stock fast, roses and other flowers had risen in price drastically, but that’s to be expected in Mother’s Day all around the world.

Still, the money was no problem, he saved more than usual from his allowance to buy her a small but beautiful floral arrangement, now that he was done he would head back home and then to Hotel Krat, but as he was walking back home trouble arrived, someone was getting closer and closer to him, nothing unusual as they were going on the opposite direction but once they were in front of Pinocchio unexpectedly and swiftly snatched the flowers out of his hand and began to run away from him.

“Hey get back!” Pinocchio gave chase, his stamina made him able to keep up with them but the person was using every trick to try and get away from him, even throwing a shop stand in the way, which made Pinocchio almost lose them. Still, the person in front of him tripped and fell to the floor, or rather someone made them trip and fall.

Some people took the opportunity to apprehend them, and thankfully the flowers were intact, so Pinocchio took them, he glanced to see who was the one who made them trip.

“Mmm, looks like I see you again and so soon” Giangio gave a friendly wave to Pinocchio.

Both of them watched to catch up, as they weren’t able to do so before, so they decided to sit down on a bench.

“Are those flowers for Lady Antonia?” Giangio couldn't deny how lovely they looked.

“Yes, how did you know?” Pinocchio was feeling relived, that interaction made him pretty angry and this was a welcoming surprise.

“It was clear to see back then how much you love her” From time to time he would take a glance at what everyone was doing in Hotel Krat, he is good at sneaking so no one was aware of his presence aside from Pinocchio, and the cat but Spring doesn't count, actually he misses her a little, she would rub herself in between his legs and ask for belly rubs, she made the time spend there less boring.

Pinocchio was eager to keep up with the conversation, “Are you giving something special to your mother Giangio?”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds and it was obvious as to why.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed” Pinocchio felt bad about it.

“It’s alright, there is no problem” Giangio gave him a warm smile, “I can still enjoy this day” It’s a lovely day to remember how he murdered her, “Why don’t you tell me how you been doing?”

He started telling him all about it, even how he went to London but he excluded a few things as they were too personal.

“Glad to hear how good things are going for you, I’m doing good as well” Giangio would love to travel more, God knows he needs a vacation, its unfortunately not going to happen any time soon, his colleagues are also not happy about the fact he let Dorothy getaway, easy for them to say, just like Pinocchio she might look cute and innocent but is a real menace.

“What do you do?” Pinocchio would love to hear more about it, he saw Giangio make the cure in front of him and it looked interesting when he mixed those chemicals.

“Oh, you know… research, treating people, the usual” Experiments, torturing a few people here and there.

It was quiet again for a few seconds before Pinocchio spoke up, “Sorry, I have to leave” He can't be late to see his mother on this day.

Both of them stood up and Pinocchio gave Giangio a big hug, “I liked seeing you again” Pinocchio had a sweet and innocent smile on his face.

Giangio started feeling bad, he does like Pinocchio, he is a good boy as everyone says and he doesn’t deserve to get dragged into that sort of mess, yet Giangio is too consumed by his pursuit of knowledge to try and prevent this issue, because even if he isn’t participating that research could prove most useful, still he decides to give the boy a little helping hand.

“Almost forgot!” Giangio handed down a necklace, although it was more of a key tied to a chain, “I’ve been keeping this ever since I was at the cathedral, as a memento, but I want you to have it, as a gift”

He knows some of the secret activities are being done underneath the St. Frangelico Cathedral. Maybe if the boy is smart enough he can catch up to that and the key will certainly help.

“Thank you,” Pinocchio said.

Giangio waved him goodbye, it was good to talk with the boy.

—-

The beautiful notes of the piano resonated around the room, Pinocchio making no mistakes in the enchanting melody, he had studied music hard with his mother, for her, so he wanted to make this a fond memory, once he was done, his mother gave an applause, praising him his skills, she looked so happy and that’s what he was aiming for, he loves her a lot and wants to show how much he loves her.

“You buy me flowers and play me a beautiful song, what more could a mother ask for?” Antonia felt so spoiled.

Antonia spoils Pinocchio a lot, only fair that it would be his turn to spoil her.

“I still have something else” Pinocchio grabbed her hand, “Close your eyes”

Antonia did so and she wondered what else he wanted to show her, she could tell that he had taken her to the room just next to the one where they practiced, he probably hid his gift there.

“Okay open them”

Antonia opened her eyes, in front of her lying on a table was a painting of her, wearing the same outfit she had worn at the Hotel when that whole fiasco happened. The portrait captured her beauty perfectly and she was amazed at the realism, Pinocchio had come a long way not just in his musical talent but in his painting skills as well. The painting depicted her where she always sat back then, although instead of sitting in a wheelchair with an IV connected to her vein, she was gracefully seated in of the beautiful chairs of Hotel Krat, part of the painting showed in the background the piano and small music notes could be seen floating in the air, her eyes showed the determination she had back then to not let the illness consume her and her warm smile reflected how even if it was hard, she always kept a smile on her face.

“I wanted to make you one, I know it won’t replace the other one…” Pinocchio was sad remembering how the portrait of his mother when she was younger got vandalized, completely ruining it, “But I tried my best and-“

Antonia hugged him tightly, she didn’t know what she had done to deserve such a kind boy by her side, she was crying tears of joy.

“Thank you, thank you so much, my dear” Antonia shed a few tears of joy.

Antonia kissed Pinocchio’s forehead and then began to kiss his face multiple times, he felt a little embarrassed but he didn’t complain, he knew how happy she was.

They had dinner together, Antonia had made reservations in advance in a high-end restaurant, it was a lovely night spent together, at the end Antonia didn’t want to let him go so she called Geppetto and asked if Pinocchio could stay the night at her home, and he agreed.

They talked for a few hours, and it all felt so lovely, Antonia sometimes feels like all of this is too good to be true, not long ago she thought she was going to die and had accepted it, yet she survived and she feels like she is once again living the best years of her life.

As Pinocchio was changing into his pajamas and arranging Gemini’s small bed, Polendina made small talk with Antonia.

“Perhaps it would be best if you and Geppetto made a formal custody agreement” Polendina was teasing her and she laughed.

“I’m sorry love but for today you are going to have to sleep in the guest room” Antonia wanted to sleep together with Pinocchio that night.

“Since I know I did nothing wrong, I have no problem with it”

Both of them smiled, they were so enchanted with each other that they had never even fought, Polendina sometimes felt as if they were living in a fairy tale, everything was so perfect. He still remembers when he thought she might die, how he was even ready to erase his memories because he wouldn’t be able to handle the pain.

Maybe after everything they have both endured, this is their reward.

Soon they were all resting in bed, Pinocchio sleeping in his mother’s arms,

Antonia feels so lucky; the roses, the song, the painting they were all so lovely.

But the greatest gift she could ask for is sleeping next to her.

[silverhallow]

Could use some cleansing of the dash after all this #PrinceHarryGoneMad, so could we please get a fluffiest of all fluff look at how either Paws or Awoa Benophie are doing?

Ohhhh let’s do some AWOA shall we…

Moments over the course of Sophie's life in AWOA:

Painting was something Sophie had known from a really young age.

From the moment she had been able to walk she had wandered around with a paintbrush in her hand after her Mama.

She had been painting from an early age, most of it was just obscure and nonsense but Esme had always encouraged her.

Even when they had come to England to be with Sophie’s father, she still encouraged her daughter’s creative streak and the two of them had drawn a mural on her wall, a meadow with a lake and grazing animals looking out across the room, it was truly tranquil and peaceful and it felt like she was in the middle of the countryside without even leaving her room.

Richard had chuckled watching his 2 year old daughter, the daughter he didn’t know he had, painting on the easel, drawing pictures to try and help her mama with her mural and he was amazed at the level of detail.

He showed his mother one weekend and she just chuckled “I think perhaps I need to take her to meet Alexandra’s grandson… he’s got the same eye for detail” Vittoria had joked “she keeps showing me his art work and creations… imagine the things they could create together!”

“Mamma Sophie is but two years old. Can we refrain from setting her up with any boy until she is at least 30!”

Esme laughed “Doudou, you cannot lock her up like she is Rapunzel, our rayon du soleil needs to shine, she will have a love story to rival ours” she smiled pressing a kiss to Richard’s cheek as she scooped a giggling Sophie into her arms.

Richard groaned “she is far too much like her mother…”

“But she looks like you Doudou” Esme quipped back

“Perhaps but given her size, i’d be surprised if she was a petite little fairy like her maman” Richard joked.

Vittoria and Marie just rolled their eyes, Vittoria had never been more furious at her dead husband for keeping these two apart. She had never seen a more perfect pair for one another.

~*~

Sophie had very few memories of her mother, given she died when she was 4 years old but Nonna and Mamaw always shared stories with her and the first time she brought Benedict home to meet her family on Boxing day, she came into the kitchen to help her two grandmother’s with dinner and they couldn’t help but smile at her.

“You remind me of your Mama and Papa nipotina” Vittoria said “he looks at you like you are hung from the stars, like you could say the sky was no longer blue during the day but bright pink and he would agree with you”

“You say that Nonna but he refuses to budge on his dislike of Byron” Sophie giggled

“Well you get your taste for the Mad Baron from your mother… he’s an idiot” Vittoria said “your boy has taste”

Sophie just rolled her eyes but Vittoria just smiled a knowing smile at Marie.

~*~

Two years later when they watched their granddaughter get engaged over Instagram, unintentionally done Benedict had said as he had tried not to be murdered by his future father-in-law, having nearly defiled his daughter live on the internet… Vittoria and Marie had squealed happily and when Sophie had told them, demanded more like, that she would be wearing the veil that should have been her mother’s on her wedding day they had never seen more of Esme in her daughter.

Her wedding day there hadn’t been a dry eye in the place as Sophie and Benedict married at Penwood. Vittoria and Marie had thrown together a feast fit for a King and Queen and to them, their granddaughter was a Queen, and they knew Benedict would treat her like one.

They loved seeing her go from strength to strength, building her business up and making it a family event. Sophie had helped renovate Vittoria’s home and Marie’s before she had started taking on paid work and they could see that she truly loved what she did.

She was meant for this world.

They saw the way she created things, the paintings and murals that she painted and Marie had cried for a a good few hours at the mural she had painted on the entrance hall to her little home, the memories of Charles, Sophie’s grandpa, the memories of Esme all woven into a scene that could have been a photograph stuck there on the wall, the beauty of Reims and their old country home encapsulated on her walls.

Sophie had done something similar for Vittoria but it had been the Vineyards in Italy that she had painted and created.

Benedict had helped with the creations and the two women watched their granddaughter and her boyfriend, now husband, as they worked together to create people’s perfect home and bring a little more beauty into the world.

The couple had a way with painting and worked together so effortlessly, it was like they were one person.

So when they came in 10 weeks after their honeymoon after they had shared the news with their parents, and told Sophie’s grandmother she was expecting their first baby, their first great grandchild…

They had cried for two hours out of sheer happiness.

Richard had ended up having a little cry as well, away from Violet and in his office and Sophie had popped in to see her father “Papa are you okay?” Sophie had asked tentatively from the door

“Hmm i’m fine sweetheart” he said wiping his eyes. “I’m just… happy. My little girl is all grown up”

“Papa” Sophie said running over and hugging her father

“Don’t you’re going to set me off” he sniffled as he felt his daughter crying into him

“It’s your fault, you started it” Sophie sniffled “you cant say things like that to a pregnant lady”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s moments like this that make me miss your mama” He sighed into her as he held her

“Me too Papa…do you think she’d have liked Ben?” Sophie asked

“She’d have loved him sweetheart, he’s perfect for you, even if it kills me to admit that there is someone out there who is perfect for my rayon du soleil” he grinned

Sophie sniffled “thank you papa, for being not just my papa but mama as well, i’d not be half the woman I am without you” Sophie cried into him

“Oh sweetheart” he said as he burst into tears himself “just please… don’t name your child after me… I know Kate and Anthony have named their children after their father but… Richard Bridgerton just” he shuddered “make me sound old”

Sophie giggled “well…”

“Don’t you dare say it”

“Well seen as you’re not 50 yet…Papa… but can I at least use it as a middle name?” Sophie asked “I have to honour my Papa somehow”

“I think I can live with that…” Richard chuckled as he kissed his daughter’s head. “Now come on, we best get back out there before your Nonna and Mamaw go overboard with their baby planning”

Sophie giggled and knew there was no way she was going to be able to stop her grandmother’s and honestly, the amount of food they started sending her… was a little overwhelming and considering she had been unable to keep anything down…

It was a good job Colin and Gregory were around so they were able to consume the food on Sophie’s behalf…

~*~

Once Sophie’s horrendous morning sickness went away, Sophie set out getting the nursery ready. Benedict had forbidden her to paint the room but he promised he would paint it exactly how she wanted to, if she just sketched it out for him.

Thinking she would sketch it on the paper for him, he came home one afternoon and found her with a pencil, her pregnancy dungarees on, her blonde hair in a bun as she sketched and sang to herself.

Benedict smiled and got his camera out and loaded up the company Instagram and started an Instagram live “Sophie appears to be sketching our babies nursery and singing… so let’s go see what my beloved Queen is up to shall we?” he said to the camera as he made his way into the room as Sophie changed her song…

“I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a boy, handsome and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me”

Benedict smiled to himself, she was singing their wedding song to their bump as she rubbed it and he felt himself getting a little misty eyed as he listened and watched her drawing animals on the wall.

“ 'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was, I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favourite song

When I said I looked a mess, you whispered underneath your breath

But I heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight”

Benedict felt his heart beating madly and what he hadn’t expected… was what happened next… Sophie rubbed her bump and seamlessly moved into Italian and sang

“Sei la mia donna, la forza delle onde del mare

Cogli i miei sogni e i miei segreti e molto di più

Spero che un giorno, l'amore che ci ha accompagnato

Diventi casa, la mia famiglia, diventi noi

E siamo sempre bambini ma nulla è impossibile

Stavolta non ti lascerò

Mi baci piano ed io torno ad esistere

E nel tuo sguardo crescerò

Ballo con te, nell'oscurità, stretti forte poi

A piedi nudi noi, dentro la nostra musica

Ti ho guardato ridere e sussurrando ho detto:

"Tu stasera, vedi, sei perfetta per me"

Ballo con te, nell'oscurità, stretti forte poi

A piedi nudi noi, dentro la nostra musica

Ho creduto sempre in noi

Perché sei un angelo e io ti ho aspettato

Quanto ti ho aspettato

Perché tu stasera sei perfetta per me”

Benedict’s heart was in his mouth and stomach as he listened to his wife’s beautiful singing voice whilst she sketched and rubbed her stomach and the moment she finished she settled herself down on the rocking chair and looked up at the wall

“You can come in, you know…” Sophie said, light amusement in her voice

“How?” Benedict asked, his voice raw with emotion as he fumbled with the phone.

“You are not light on your feet my love… I heard you getting your phone out…” She giggled as she waved at the screen “Ciao everyone”

Benedict flushed “You were too beautiful not to share with the world…”

“Do you want to show them the wall?” Sophie said, gesturing to the pictures she’d sketched on the wall.

Benedict turned and faced the camera to the wall and nearly dropped it, she had drawn a lake, with a meadow and grazing animals, thought purely in black and white he was amazed at the level of detail on the wall.

“Oh… Soph…”

“I had one almost identical as a child, when we first came to England, Papa gave Mama the wall and told her to do what she wanted and we created this…” Sophie said. “I wanted our little prince to have something similar… and i just… I got lost in the moment…”

Richard, Vittoria and Marie were watching on their own phones and were blown away at the level of detailing.

“And the song?”

“He’s been kicking the living daylights out of me all day and only settles when I sing” Sophie said as she rubbed her belly.

Benedict leaned down and kissed his wife’s belly “well, I know another way that can lull him to sleep, if you wish” he grinned

“Oh… if you want to do that you need to knock that off… you know what nearly happened last time” Sophie giggled and Benedict frantically turned off the phone before his father in law, or any of his in laws, or his own family were able to hear anything further…

But it was too late, Sophie’s that had caught the attention of his family… and his father in law, who at Sunday dinner threatened to ensure this would be their only child if they got so close online again… or if he ever happened to walk in on them..

Benedict just swallowed and nodded, the teasing from his siblings was easier to take but everyone had been more interested in Sophie’s rendition of Perfect Symphony.

Sophie just smiled as she sat amongst her family, her swollen belly and ankles resting “well it was the perfect song… for the perfect moment” she replied

And that is what it was. Perfect. Her life… was perfect.

[alwaysxlarrie]

a snippet + last line challenge

i’m halfway done with chapter 8 (it should be up by midweek!) so thank you to @beelou, @nooradeservedbetter, @larrysballetslippers & @beardyboyzx for tagging me to do a snippet! & thank you to @justahappycloud, @lunarheslwt, @thebreadvansstuff, @larry-hiatus, @hellolovers13 & @neondiamond for tagging me to do the last line challenge :)

snippet:

Harry will let him think whatever he wants as long as he gets to see Louis’ bicep muscles flexing. Not only does the sight make Harry’s jaw ache with how much he wants to bite them and suck a few bruises into the skin, but it's also phenomenal wank bank material. He’d never admit that if asked, but. The thought of Louis using them to pin him down, hold him up against a wall, choke him a little? Siri play ‘What Dreams Are Made Of’ by Hilary Duff, please and thank you. 

Plus, Louis is a sucker for Harry painting his nails — when he’d noticed Harry painted them a few weeks ago for the first time, Louis’ jaw had dropped and he immediately picked up Harry’s hand, gently running his thumb along the nail beds. When he’d looked back up into Harry’s eyes, Louis’ were noticeably darkened and his eyelids were hooded. The rest of the day, whenever he’d noticed Harry about to start a task that might ruin his nails, he’d intervene to help. Harry’s nails were definitely dry at this point and if they chipped, he could’ve always just redone them that night, but it was cute to see Louis care so much and it was lovely to be taken care of by him. The sexual tension had been through the roof that day, though; Niall and Liam even went as far as to stay out of Louis’ way entirely whenever they could — they did not want to get in between Louis and whatever he was going through. They didn’t even know about Harry and Louis almost getting off against Harry’s car before going home that night and Harry still couldn’t blame them. 

“You sure we really need to do that, Haz?” Louis asks with an amused glint in his eye as he raises an eyebrow.

Oh no. Louis might have caught on. There’s only one thing to do now: keep it moving. 

“Yeah, of course! We can’t form our best judgments just by looking at the photo on the paint canister, you know? Gotta open it up and look at the paint itself, too.” 

Right. Okay. Maybe not keep it moving like that. His flirting seriously, truly, honestly has a ways to go. How he managed to get someone like Louis, he’s got no idea; his game is absolutely atrocious. 

One might say that maybe his first issue is still using the word ‘game’, but that’s neither here nor there, thanks.

“Right,” Louis muses, smirking knowingly when he takes the canister, watching as Harry’s eyes immediately dart to his biceps, “well if it means so much to you, I suppose we could take a look.”

last line:

“He’s never felt so seductive and powerful before in his life; maybe there is something to be said about spontaneity being a turn on after all.”

ok so the last line is 25 words but i don’t know anyone who hasn’t done either of these atp so i’m just gonna tag a few people & not worry ab the count lol: @lululawrence, @brightgolden, @loveislarryislove, @kingsofeverything, @the-larry-way, @tommokat, @kingonafiftymetreroad, @hearyouhowling, @greenblueish & @jaerie

(also yes this fic has essentially become a long winded appreciation post for louis’ arms/biceps but can u blame me???)

[ncdyc]

HSHQAC2022 DAYFOURTEEN

look i love viani, i love vikke, i love annexei, but valias has my heart. the main common denominator here is martha and honestly i think that’s poetic because i joined this group in 2016 because of her wc anyway and i’m a sentimental bitch.

it’s not very difficult to be a vanamo stan. we saw her first and we were in awe of how realistic she was. we could all relate to her, half the time she was confused, but she never let a single person doubt her to the level that they could have. she had every reason to be angry, bitter, broken, and was so close to several corruptive influences, but she showed up each time, unapologetically being herself, dressing within her means and held her head high on her own, with no one next to her and a child in tow. you can question her methods all you want, but she saved lives with her choices.

when elias was just a wc, he was that laughing face in a graphic, maybe we all came up with a peripheral version of him in our heads; happy, full of light and life, the sun that went so well with vanamo’s moon. when lea brought elias, that light had been snuffed out, yet preserved somehow at least for me. it was a reminder that things don’t necessarily stay peachy, but a person can still be recognisable through something so traumatic. it was a reality check and i respect the commitment to play him that way despite the temptation to gloss over the difficult ugly bits. every single interaction between vanamo and elias in play was nuanced, well-written, gut-wrenching and real. they felt like a pendulum, their arguments were never set in stone and they vacillated from end to end together. this was a couple that truly demonstrated that the only way is through, not out.

their politics are so different, but while there are struggles and arguments, the relationship withstands conflicting ideologies. we never got to see it, but i have to believe that they are still navigating the waters, with elias continuing to be very pro-finnish and less in alignment with russian agenda, and with vanamo continuing to fulfill her duties to the russian royal system. death failed to do them apart, why would this?

i think we glamourise a lot of things that we don’t see for most fairytale couples, but this is one couple that i think, i am not alone in glamourising even after we’ve seen them in the flesh. martha and lea call them mundane, but honestly i would happily consume valias watching paint dry, because with them, there’s always going to be something deeper, something intangible we’ll all feel from it.

also they have a bangin’ haunting angsty playlist and that’s the way to my heart tbh, valias is my favourite, thank you for reading

also i did not make this graphic, my laptop screen is fucked i can’t do much on it besides type, all credit goes to lenny — also a valias stan.

pls comment with your valias thoughts because they make me happy <3