#the gall of her to wear this open

[emotionalsupportsoccerball]

This right here, this is my favorite thing

[iintervallum]

I hate the dismisal of online lgbt spaces as not as important as in real life or what goes on within the spaces as not that bad, because for me at least, I don't have anyone I know in my area that I can talk to about being lgbt, and I'm relatively scared of selectiviely outing myself to find more people, because i really wouldnt want it to get back to my parents somehow.

My point is, online spaces are very important as a point of connection for the many of us that have no one irl, and I hate how any serious method of discussion gets turned into discourse. like people saying there is a severe amount of lesbophobia, biophobia, transmisogyny and racism in the community are not picking fights. we're trying to make this space better because for some of us its all we have! so please, do better.

[fadingdaggerr]

hello! i was wondering if you could write a melissa/reader fic where r unknowingly makes mel very nervous/blush, and after a while melissa starts to become very protective of r until melissa is a big blushing mess and just needs to have her girl 🫶 or whatever u want to take from this, big fan of your work!! mwah 🧛🏻‍♀️🦇

amaranthine

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above <3 | 2.3k

includes: literally just fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft!melissa, established but new relationship, light making out

note: sol posting two fics in a month? what is this? no but seriously i got an inspo boost since abbott is back in like 2 weeks so i was rewatching and “get the cameras outta my face before i give you colonoscopy with it” is still top 3 melissa lines (from attack ad)

“You really ate that and have the gall, the gumption to call it food?” Barbara says, baffled by the story you told her as you both were making your coffee. Somehow on the walk in, the conversation had gone from the muffin you got on your way to work, to the topic of childhood lunches.

You laugh, “listen, bologna and ketchup was the only consistent thing I ate until, like, middle school.”

“And you enjoyed that?” she says with a shocked face and what you guess is minor disgust from her downturned lips. You nod in response with a little mhm and Barbara’s hand comes up to hide your face from her line of sight, turning away so as to not laugh right at you. She’s nothing if not polite. Her reaction only makes you laugh more.

You both sober up as you hear the door opening, and there’s equal gratefulness for it being Melissa that enters the room. Your eyes flick over her quickly, taking in her pink top you don’t think you’ve seen before and black leather pants that you’ve certainly never forgotten her wearing. Her eyeliner is perfect, but it doesn’t hide the darker circles under her eyes, the folders in her bag telling you stayed up late to grade assignments.

Barbara greets her while you silently step away to the cabinet, grabbing an orange mug out. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, at least how she takes the bitter lounge coffee, with a sugar and a hefty pour of milk, only the one percent though. Just as she finishes unpacking her stuff and sits down to keep talking with Barb, you return to your spot across from her.

Her eyes move to you, watching you test the coffee with a small sip off the edge. You think a moment before pushing the mug over to her, a tiny smile crossing your lips. She raises a brow, taking a small sip of her own to test it. “It’s perfect, hon, thank you,” she says, just a little ruffled that you pay attention enough to get her coffee right and that she’d never gotten her coffee to taste this good.

“Anything for you,” is your earnest response. With the smile still on your lips, you send a wink her way before your attention is stolen by more people filtering into the room. As you chat over your shoulder with Gregory, Melissa faces her lap, desperate to get rid of the blush that painted her cheeks at the ease of your attention and words.

She decides to stay a little quieter, listening to the conversation Barbara is having with Janine, sipping on her coffee that she was holding close to her chest. There’s a prickly feeling on the side of her face, and when she turns she finds your eyes on her. They flick from her eyes to her shirt, scanning her the sleeves and stitching, and she has to pretend she didn’t notice the barely lingering look at her chest.

“New shirt?” you ask when your eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath, “yeah, just got it yesterday. D’ya not like it or something?”

“What? No, Mel,” you said, “you look beautiful. As always.”

There’s not enough time for her to hide before her cheeks are an even brighter shade of pink than her shirt, eyes blinking rapidly. Melissa prays that Barbara didn't just hear you say those words, let alone see her reaction to them. Whatever this was between you two, it’s new and fragile and not fully defined, and you both agreed you don’t want to let anyone in just yet.

—☽—

Melissa has become attuned to you. She knows when you’re around well before she sees you, always able to sense your presence. If it was because she was always looking for you, she’d never admit it.

With soft steps knowing it’s a quiet time in her room, you approach her classroom as a stop on your way to the lounge for popcorn. Stopping in her doorway, she immediately turns and looks at you. Eyes widening at the immediate attention, you give her a little wave.

“Alright little eagles, I’m gonna be in the hall. Youse better stay on your best behavior,” she says as she stands up from the desk, making an ‘I’m-watching-you’ motion. Joining you in the hall with a little smile on her face, she leans against the wall.

“You didn’t have to leave your class,” you say as you match her position, leaning into her space just a little.

Her smile grows a bit, “then why’d you stop by?”

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all. But getting you to talk to you is definitely a bonus,” you answer, the grin on your face stretching as you look at her while you speak.

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, not that she really knew what she thought you’d say. Licking her lips, she ducks her head and shakes it, but only for a second. Looking back up at you, she manages to say, “you just came to stare at me then?”

“I prefer the word ‘admire,’ but same-difference.”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a little scoff, trying hard to keep from allowing the heat to creep up her neck.

You mock her a little scoff with a smirk as you push off the wall, about to start back on your journey. “Whatever you say, gorgeous,” you say before turning away. Your turn stutters as you come back around, fingers raising to her necklace to fix the chain so the clip was at the back of her neck. You mumble a barely audible there we go before you turn around and continue on your way.

Melissa is frozen in place for a moment, hand raising to her neck, tracing the spot your hand ran against. A thankful thought passed her mind that the hall was empty, not even a doc camera around. She was not above threatening them to delete the footage or smashing the camera that caught her flustered and dazed from your affection.

—☽—

At lunch, she has to refrain from looking at you, knowing that if she even dared to, that her cheeks would be as red as the firetrucks she adores. Thinking instead that she didn’t want to talk at the moment, you were conversing with Jacob about a movie he watched over the weekend and was dying to share it with someone. Admittedly, Melissa was half listening, really only to hear your voice.

There was a slight snicker from the couches, a sort of snicker that peaked Melissa’s attention. She sees Mr. Morton and another eighth-grade teacher peering at yours and Jacob’s direction, clearly listening to your conversation and finding it humorous. Focusing her ears, she hears mumbles of lame as hell and great, another freak. Her brows furrow and fists clench, Barbara quickly notices her friend’s change in mood and gives her a questioning gaze that Melissa ignores.

“Aye,” Melissa pipes up, the whole room goes silent. Her eyes stay on Morton and what’s-her-face as she menacingly says, “watch your mouth or I watch it for you. Got it?” The only response either one gives her is a fast nod before averting their eyes, frozen in place from fear. 

When Melissa’s glare finally leaves them, everyone else’s eyes drop to avoid being next, except for yours and Barbara’s.

“What was that for?” Barbara speaks quietly so only the three of you at the table can hear.

“Nothing, Barb. Just didn’t like what they were saying is all,” she answers, purposefully keeping her eyes off both of you.

Your hand goes to her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit, thumb caressing her skin, “what were they saying?”

Melissa desperately tries to ignore her rapid heart, “it was nothing, hon. Don’t worry about it.” Unable to resist a little bit of extra contact, she pats your hand reassuringly. Neither of you notice Barbara’s eyebrows fly up in surprise at the outward affection you both displayed.

When lunch ended, Barbara went back to her classroom to do her lesson on the changing seasons, and you and Melissa both had prep periods while your students went off to recess and their extra activities. Taking the extra time you rarely got to have together during the work day, you spent the majority of the hour grading next to each other. Little smiles and checking in made you both ditch the grading altogether, just enjoying each other's company.

“If I invited you over for dinner tonight, what would you say to that?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I’d say I’d love to have dinner with you,” you reply with a tad of shyness, playing with the rings on her hand you were holding in your lap. 

“Six work for you?”

“I’ll be there, on the dot.”

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you, making you flinch at the sudden intrusion. She heard you mumble shit under your breath, before you stand and hurriedly collect your things. Double checking that you had everything, you let out a deep breath. 

Without much thought, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her cheek, “I’ll see you later.” Before she can  respond you’re rushing out of the room to get your kids from art class.

Melissa’s head drops to her desk and grumbles, “gonna be the death of me, that one.”

—☽—

In her kitchen, you’d found that your favorite spot was sitting on the counter next to her. She let you ‘help’ by letting you add the seasonings, but wouldn’t let you near much else. You were content to look at her while she worked in her element, an ease and happiness in her movements that you delight in.

With just having to wait for the vegetables to cook down a bit, she turns to you and leans in close, arm brushing your thigh. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, and raise your hand to brush hair out of her face. Your hand slides from behind her ear to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, you know?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she leans into you, her hands moving from the counter to your thighs. Pink lips brush against yours, a silent question. This was all she’s been wanting since you two snuck away Friday as everyone left school, where she left you breathless in your empty classroom. The answer she gets is your lips pressing into her, soft and slow, savoring the taste of her. Melissa barely holds back a whine at the feeling of your lips on hers, she never thought she could miss a feeling so much, but a weekend apart from you had her craving your touch. Your tongue traces against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and she’s quick to grant it.

Unlike her, you don’t hold in a groan at the feeling of her mouth on yours. Your hands travel into her hair, lightly tugging her closer. The sensation has her hands gripping your thighs, using them to pull you into her. You feel a certain desperation in her kiss that allows you to take the lead easily, sucking her bottom lip between your teeth and biting gently before kissing her softer to make it better. Your legs wrap around her as you slow your lips, wanting her close as possible.

As you pull away, she pushes back in to catch your lips again for just a second. Her hands on your thighs are making it incredibly hard for you to focus on your already struggling breathing. There’s a muted moan from her as your fingers scratch her scalp, pulling gently as her soft hair.

“You’re trouble, you know?” she murmurs breathlessly, mirroring your previous question.

You smile as you rest your head against the cupboard behind you, still holding her face as you ask, “how so?”

“All you’re staring and flirting, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she responds like it’s obvious.

“Again, I was admiring, not staring. And when was I flirting?” Your tone and the look on your face makes the redhead realize that you truly weren’t aware of the effect you were having on her. 

Her hands slide up to your waist, your shirt raising just enough for her pinkies to brush your skin. The goosebumps that develop under her touch makes her heart skip a beat, loving that she had a similar effect on you. When she doesn’t answer you right away, you angle her face to bring her attention back to you, silently asking your question again with your eyes.

Melissa sighs, “saying you’d do ‘anything’ for me, calling me beautiful and pretty. You’re a flirt.” 

“Those are just all true, not really flirting. I would do anything for you and you are very beautiful and very pretty,” you say, smiling. The heat in her cheeks spread to your hands, the warmth spreading to your heart. She tries to duck away but you’re faster, pulling her closer just barely to press a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She wants to respond, but no words form under your gaze. Your eyes avert from hers and she finds hers following where yours go. Suddenly the simmering of the vegetables in the pot reaches her ears, reminding her that there was a world outside your eyes and lips. Your hands drop from her face, letting her go to check on the food you can’t touch. She just squeezes your hips before letting go.

You’ll still be there when she gets back.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title means something that is ‘undying or everlasting’

[ackerfics]

to the girls who are failed by the narrative: masterlist | jjk

enclosed here are stories of tragedy; of loving someone too much that his loss becomes your ruination, of waves of blue and black that threatens to wash your cheeks with the colors of summer, of curses trapping you in prophecies not even a red string can break, of unlikely saviours and damsels who fell harder for each other.

note: all of these are connected. every character has their own 'reader' (except for yuta). once we move on to the next character, the previous reader will be given a nickname. i am actually excited about this <5 consider this as my official comeback (?) here on this site.

my love is mine all mine — zen'in toji (later fushiguro) x reader

: 'the glorified womb', 'the heir bearer', 'the blessed flower of the jujutsu society' — they are just some of the titles given to the women of your mother's clan, and all of them eventually fell to you, the prodigal firstborn who has the misfortune of birthing someone who will be stronger than their predecessors. with the fate of someone's clan on your shoulders, there are only a handful of things told to you while growing up; be as demure as you can be, never open your mouth and squash your thoughts, sit with a posture befitting that of a lady wearing an invisible yet heavy diadem. but the one that rings the most goes like this: your only purpose in this world is to be a silent wife to a man who will give you the opportunity to carry the next generation of powerful sorcerers. you remember all of these as you walk toward zen'in ogi in your uchikake, the constricting material around your waist akin to the gripping hold of your cursed technique.

and in fate's funny little ways of fabricating legacies and stories, you forget them when you are spirited away by the man who always welcomes the coming of the seasons with you without fail.

chapters:

i: their redness talks to my wounds

ii: in our circle of green

iii: coming soon !!

iv: coming soon !!

v: coming soon !!

to love and be loved is to rest  — gojo satoru (w. geto suguru) x reader

: you knew you will never love gojo satoru, the godling that will make kingdom come if he so wished it, the moment he pushed you into a puddle of muddy water the day your older sister was announced to be engaged to the possible heir of the zen'in clan. with your new kimono drenched in brown splatters and your hair in disarray, the little white rat had the gall to cackle in front of majority of the jujutsu society. that was the day you vowed to always harbour hate for him. yet for some weird reason, gojo becomes a constant in your life — the only one to ever see you at your weakest when your sister abandoned you to become the next bride and the only one who promised to return your youth to you by being your semblance of normalcy among the decaying beliefs and elders of the jujutsu society.

you thought you will never know love until you met geto suguru and all his gentle smiles, warm demeanour, and weird fringe. and before you know it, your little world with gojo expanded to include geto, ieiri, and the colours of summer throughout the year. but summer will always fade away to autumn, a season that chills you to the bone and sets glaciers in your blood, its fingers promising change like no other.

because it was fall of 2007 that you wish you never knew what love is at all.

chapters: coming soon !!

except for your eyes, no blade can control me  — fushiguro megumi x reader

: coming soon !!

[bonus] hearts be burned asunder with love — okkotsu yuta x oc

: it's a new generation of sorcerers and the flower of the jujutsu society truly lived up to her fate of carrying new heirs for a dying clan. from her union with the nefarious sorcerer killer comes a blessing and a festival; a shepherd of umbras in the shape of animal curses and the other an amalgamation of opposing energies.

the moment fushiguro matsuri first sung her pleas to the world, the shadows danced and the flowers tried reaching for a speck of light. and it is when she was finally swallowed by the mass of shadows that her twin brother first saw how cruel their part of the world can be.

it's november 2017 and a cursed womb has been spotted hanging like an ominous raindrop of cynicism above a remote forest near a clan compound. all sorcerers near the area are dispatched to the scene but fushiguro megumi has one request to his mentor (begrudging uncle), bring the first-year jujutsu high student he met a few months ago to where the cursed womb is. after all, okkotsu yuta is the only sorcerer megumi openly respects to save his sister and matsuri is the only person everyone expects to neutralize the queen of curses if the time comes for the sword to reap its harvest.

: coming soon !!

send an ask or reply if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[atoriid]

There’s a thief among us

-flash fic-

summary: Half of your closet has been missing…who could it possibly be?

incl.: Hint of established relationship, pet names, crack, implied male reader, but could be viewed as gender neutral reader, time stamp!: before shit went down bad

pairing/s: Gojo Satoru x male reader, Gojo Satoru x gn reader

warning/s: none

note: it was supposed to be a smol drabble but uh it got too long for that whoop!

It seems like there’s a thief in the dorms. The evidence was indisputable, seeing as almost half of your closet is empty. You searched through your hanged clothing looking for your uniforms. !!!Multiple sets, gone!!!

“What the heck-” You began to rummage through your drawers. “What?”

Your drawers were also half empty. “Even the underwear drawer?!”

“What the hell is going on??” You scratched your head trying to remember if you recently did your laundry and forgot to fetch it? You looked all over your room, examining every corner anywhere your clothes could’ve ended up at.

None

“Well damn…” You breathe out a defeated sigh, hands in a praying position. “Yaga-sensei, I am extremely sorry in advance.”

.

.

.

You ran into Geto on your way to your classroom, he raised a questioning eyebrow, looking at you up and down. “Dude, why are you-”

“Not in uniform?” Your eyes reflected someone who’s clearly defeated. “Geto…I think there’s a thief in our midst.”

“Ha?” You placed your hand on his shoulder for dramatic effect.

“Gege, half of my closet is missing.” To your irritation, Geto burst out laughing. “Geto Suguru! I’m serious! Half of my closet’s missing!”

The bitch continued to laugh. “Geto! Stop it! I’m miserable here!”

Geto shook his head, amused by your misery. “Fine, fine, it is so unfortunate your clothes are gone.”

You glared at him, suspicion clear on your face. “You know something…”

“Dude, you're the only one that’s in the dark.” He snickered as he slid open the classroom door.

“Whad ya meannn??” You followed him inside and then closed the door; at first, you only saw Shoko sitting in her chair reading some magazine. “Shoko! Be careful, some pervert took my clothes! Even my underwear!”

“Oh? How unfortunate…” She nonchalantly flipped a page.

“Shoks! Not you too!”

Sighing, Shoko took her eyes off her magazine and pointed to the side. “Do yourself a favour and look over at Gojo.”

“Huh?” Confused, you slowly looked at the direction. Lo and behold, the one and only Gojo Satoru animatedly talking to Geto…wearing your uniform.

“Gojo Satoru!” He jumped from his seat before cheekily looking at you. Geto, knowing what’s about to happen backed off.

“Yesh~?” You power walked to him. Satoru couldn’t help but gulp, not because he’s scared-oh no no, he’s the strongest; he ain’t scared of anything. He found your angry face quite hot.

You slammed one hand on his desk, roughly pulling on the collar of your uniform that is currently being worn by the Satoru. “Mind telling me what you're doing with my uniform?”

He nervously chuckled, “I dunno what you mean, handsome.”

Your grip tightened; Satoru wished it was his neck instead.

“Give me my uniform, Toru.” The gall of this boy to stick his tongue out at you. “Toru! If Yaga-sensei sees me like this, he’s gonna have my head on a stick!”

“Not my problem, pretty boy.” Having none of it, you swiftly tried to unbutton the shirt. He theatrically crossed his arms holding onto his shoulders, swinging side to side. “Ah! Yamete kudasai! Take me out on a date first!”

“I already did, you doofus!” Satoru shrieked and started to playfully slap your hands away as you tried to slide the sleeves off him.

“Not in front of Shoko and Suguru babe!”

Before you could yell back, the classroom door slammed open. “Gojo Satoru! Y/n L/n! What the hell is going on?! L/n, stop undressing Gojo!”

word count: 578

☆masterlist☆

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 21.

Summary: The morning after Oliver fucks around with Venetia, and he has the gall to act like he doesn't know why you and Felix are in such a bad mood. Unfortunately his lies about the event don't placate you the same way they do for Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 5412 words. this chapter was meant to explain felix & eddie's relationship, but that got YEETED to several chapters in the future when this ended up over 5k as it was. if you're questioning my characterisation of the reader, just know that they're a complex individual and dont always make the most thoughtful choices. sorry it's late, i still love this and you, i will finish this fic or die trying. <3

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

The morning sun is a cruel mistress, you think as one of the maids - Emily? You're barely awake, you can't quite tell in the onslaught of sudden light - pulls the curtains back, announcing breakfast would be ready shortly. Felix groans, sounding exactly as enthusiastic about the prospect as you feel.

"I'm cancelling today," he muttered, muffled where he'd sunk further down into the bed and pulled the covers over his head, "it doesn't exist." Wriggling onto your side and desperately trying to ignore the brightness of the impending day, you hummed in agreement.

"Sounds good to me," you yawned, squeezing your eyes shut, as if attempting to will yourself back to sleep. But you both know it can't really last.

Felix is grumbling under his breath the entire time he's getting dressed - stupid bloody Saltburn, and it's stupid bloody rules, and stupid bloody Oliver, and stupid, bloody, goddamn Venetia; the nerve on her, honestly - while all you could do was yawn, and make faint, distracted noises of agreement. Both of you go quiet on your way to breakfast, keeping your frustrations bottled up to keep the peace in front of the rest of the family, but it still didn't make things easier.

They're eating outside that morning, taking advantage of the beautiful weather by the courtyard. Venetia's looking all kind of pretty and smug, her gaze trained on Oliver as you and Felix join the table, while Farleigh looks to you, cigarette poised and beautiful between his slender fingers, wearing a grim expression as he takes in the state of you and his cousin. When his gaze meets yours, for a second it darkens, and he quirks a single eyebrow in unspoken question. Despite the way you sit primly in your chair, trying to feign nonchalance, Felix slumps down on your other side, between you and his father, the furthest seat from Oliver he can manage. It's answer enough.

"You sleep well?" Oliver turns to both you and Felix. It's almost like you can hear stupid, bloody Oliver run through Felix's head before he answers.

"No, not really, mate," Felix has never been one to hide how he feels. Once, you'd told him as much, and though he hadn't taken it well at the time - he'd been in a mood, it was why the topic had come up at all - but he'd come back to you the next day saying that Venetia and his parents had always told him as much. It was one of the reasons he liked being around you, he'd said, not because you don't bring up his moods - obviously you did - but he said he could never stay in a bad mood for too long around you. In this moment, you were really wishing that was true, because this level of sulking was one you'd only seen in the weeks after Eddie had left.

Oliver looks concerned, the picture of an innocent, worried friend, like he has absolutely no idea why Felix was clearly unhappy. You try not to look at Oliver as much as you can help it. So you stand, press a kiss to the top of Felix's head as you pass him, and make your way to get the both of you breakfast as Sir James talks about the dinner being hosted the following night. Apparently one of the attendees - Sackfield, Sussex natives, if you recall rightly - had dropped out, leaving the guest list at thirty.

"God I forgot about fucking dinner," Felix groaned around a cigarette he'd already managed to light in the short space of time he'd been at the table.

"Wait, who is coming to dinner again?" Farleigh asks with a vague frown.

"The Henrys," Venetia announced cheerfully as Farleigh sighed his protests. The girl had no fucking shame; you fight the urge to flick a blueberry at her, mostly since you know you'd miss at this distance.

"Who are the Henrys?" Oliver enquired, as if trying to ignore the mood of almost a third of the table. If you'd turned, you'd see him looking to you; even now you were seen as a fountain of information about the formalities and events that went on here. If you'd turned, you still wouldn't have answered him.

"Dad's friends," Venetia answers instead, "they're all called Henry."

"Not all of them," Sir James rebuffed quickly from beside his son, looking up from his morning paper.

"Just most," you called back, as if out of habit alone.

"It'll be fun," Elspeth tried to insist, though Venetia was quick to chime in again, smug as always as you made your way back to the table.

"It'll be, being molested by Henry," Venetia's smugness at least dropped with that, adding as an aside to her mother, "you know which one."

"Well I'll put you next to Oliver, then," Elspeth sniped back, "he can molest you instead."

Unfortunately you return the table just in time to see the look Oliver gives to Venetia, and the little giggle she answers with. No-one in this house knows subtlety and you kind of hate them both. However it seems you're not the only one who notices, as Felix's eyes flick between Oliver and his sister, glowering at them both as you place a plate of fresh fruit in front of him. He's surly enough that he doesn't even thank you, but in this moment, you don't care; expressions mirroring each other in a way neither guilty party seems to notice as they focus on each other instead.

"Oh, Oliver," the moment is broken, however, by Elspeth, energised with a new thought, reaching out to Oliver sitting beside her, catching his attention, stealing it from Venetia for the time being, "I was going to say, we should do something fun for your birthday." She's insistent, though Oliver is confused. Right about now you regret informing her that Oliver's birthday would be occurring during the time he was at Saltburn, "a proper party, no Henrys," she's insistent, "something actually fun;" she glances at Sir James, hand still resting on Oliver's, "what do you think, darling?"

"If Oliver would like it, I think it's a splendid idea," Sir James agrees amicably. You begin to eat your breakfast, hoping your gaze doesn't burn a hole in the table like you think it might.

"I think Oliver looks like he'd rather throw himself out of window," Farleigh chimes in flatly, actually startling a laugh from you that you have to quickly cover with a cough. When you look up, he's levelling a cold smile at the man himself, but when his gaze flicks to you and how you're trying to hide your embarrassment in a glass of water, his gaze turns almost fond. Solidarity; for all the shit he'd said to you last night, you really did adore Farleigh.

"What kind of party?" Oliver turns back to Elspeth, and you go back to your food, only after glancing quickly at Felix. He's too caught up in his brooding to be amused by Farleigh's aside; he's too caught up in his brooding to do more than smoke and poke at his breakfast with his fork like it's offended him.

"I don't know, whatever you want," Elspeth offers, already planning in her head, knowing the matriarch and her love of events, "what do you think? About a hundred people?" Chin on her hand, she's looking through Oliver more than she's looking at him.

"A hundred?"

"Or two," Elspeth takes his shock the wrong way entirely, "it invariably ends up being two with this sort of thing, doesn't it?" She looks over to her husband, while Oliver looks to you and Felix, that look in his eyes like he's out of his depth at Saltburn once more, "invite whoever you want," Elspeth insists, returning her attention to him, "all your friends -"

"What friends?" Farleigh mutters cruelly, but this you don't find nearly as amusing. For a moment, there's a twinge of guilt in your chest, but Sir James provides a clean distraction as he excitedly suggests the party be fancy dress.

While Elspeth and Sir James are both enthused about the suggestion - Sir James is always looking for an opportunity to wear his suit of armour, he's almost embarrassingly proud of it - Oliver tries to reach out to you like he can tell you're upset too, like he's concerned. When you shift out of his reach subtly, Felix catches sight of the movement and follows it to Oliver's hand coming back to rest on the table. Expression flickering with irritation, Felix offers you his cigarette, and you take it, crossing one leg over the other as he starts on his own breakfast and you push yours away with your free hand. Both of you are decidedly focused on the table.

Venetia absconds from the table for reasons you can't bring yourself to even half care about as Elspeth settles on A Midsummer Night's Dream as the theme for the party. Usually you'd be all but matching her joy at the suggestion, or at least matching Farleigh and his amused aside about slutty fairies, but your stomach is turning all of a sudden.

Felix clears his throat quietly, and takes a quick sip of water, but it still draws your attention, if not anyone else's. The way he gives the barest gesture with his head would be missed by anyone but you, but you can read it for what it is.

Go if you need to go, don't feel like you have to stay here.

Immediately you stand, drawing all eyes but Felix's, not caring either way. Handing back his cigarette, or what was left of it, he mutters a thanks, but doesn't look up from where he's lazer focused on his food.

"Captain," Duncan's voice speaks into the sudden silence, "if you have finished with your breakfast -"

"I have."

"Then I'd appreciate a brief word with you."

Nodding jerkily, you follow him into the foyer to see a thick, yellow envelope on a little table by the door, topped with a thin piece of card. He hands you the envelope first, before holding the card up to show you it was a notice from the local post office, telling you there was some large items that arrived. They'd be the flowers you'd had flown in; they wouldn't last long in some storage facility. Damn, alright, you sighed, expression pinched as you wondered if it was worth it to even pick them up at this point.

"Have someone collect them and put them in the greenhouse for now -"

"The greenhouse?" Duncan sounds almost confused.

"I mean, check if they're the flowers I ordered, first, and if they are, have them unpacked and put into the greenhouse, I'll get to them," you waved your hand dismissively through the air, "eventually."

"Of course," he acquiesces, and you thank him quietly.

Already exhausted by the day, despite it not even being close to noon, you head to your study, weighty envelope of documents in your hand. Later this week, they'd said in the email, you thought you'd have more time. Huh, that seems to be a sentiment plaguing you often these past few days.

"Everything alright?" Felix, draped over the wicker sofa on his balcony, hears you come in and doesn't even get up. Giving nothing more than an irrate, dismissive noise, you throw yourself onto the bed, "yeah it's a bit like that, isn't it?" He muses loud enough for you to hear.

"It can't be that hard to be a parent," you snapped, rolling onto your back, leaving the envelope on the bed by your side.

"If it was easy, nannies and wet nurses wouldn't have a job," Felix offers, though has the grace to add, "but I know what you mean." Then, sitting up, if the squeaking of the wicker was anything to go by, he asks what's wrong, softer this time. Looking to him, you scowl, and flick your hand to smack the envelope, "they being assholes to you again?"

"Always," you sighed, before adding without much thought, "sometimes I'm tempted to marry you so I can tell people I have half-decent parents for the first time in my life."

"But you'd have Venetia as a sister-in-law," Felix offered with clear distaste, but it's enough to get you to laugh, to break your discomfort.

"Forgot that part; you think Farleigh being my cousin is enough to make up for it?"

And Felix, thankfully, is grinning too. It's him who suggests getting out of the sweltering house on this beautiful day, getting out of both your heads with some time spent down by the pool. Right now, you'd take anything to try distract you from the packet of paper by your side.

The last thing you do before you head to the pool, book in one hand and towel in the other, is toss the envelope onto the desk in your study for later. Later you'd deal with your parents. Later you'd deal with Oliver and possibly get him expelled from Oxford if you're feeling especially vindictive after some reading or a swim. But for now, out of sight, out of mind.

Except it doesn't work for long.

While you'd chosen one of the armchairs to curl up in while you were in the early chapters of a memoir your Marketing professor had recommended to you, which was keeping your thoughts at bay, Felix had said he'd wanted to swim. After getting in for all of five minutes, he'd spent the rest of the time drinking jack and cokes through a curly straw and getting lost in his own thoughts again as he sunbathed. He's been alternating between smoking and sweets, and you have decidedly not commented on his attitude.

Both of you are wearing very little, looking as though you're on your way to the pool or the lake, probably looking like the start of any number of fantasies Oliver may have had. At least, that's what crosses your mind when you catch sight of him, gazing at you both with quiet longing. The sight of him like this, his eyes on you both, so clearly wanting, would have delighted you even twenty-four hours ago. Except so much had happened in those twenty-four hours.

I want to know you. I want to love you. But there's something wrong with you.

And then he'd gone and messed around with Venetia after you'd explicitly warned him not to. Your gaze leaves Oliver as he approaches, instead frowning down at your book, irritation settling in your bones.

Felix notices your shift before he notices Oliver. But that's when Oliver makes himself known.

"Hey," he drapes himself across the sun lounge on Felix's other side, blue eyes boring holes into the side of your best friend's head, while Felix refuses to acknowledge him, "Felix," Oliver tries more insistently, but gets no response, "is everything okay?" Finally Oliver asks. You turn a page pointedly, but Felix still answers.

"Yes," his tone is anything but okay, "why?"

"You seem annoyed about something," Oliver says carefully, almost demurely, "you both do," he adds after a moment as Felix makes a face. You turn another page you have not read.

"I'm not annoyed about anything," Felix clearly lied, and though Oliver sounded unconvinced, he tried to take him at his word. Except Felix isn't done, "it's just slightly bad form, that's all."

"What's bad form?" Oliver asks flatly, as if he has no fucking idea.

"What do you think?" Thankfully Felix's tone is annoyed enough for the both of you.

"What do you think?" He scoffed, disbelieving at this little act Oliver was clearly putting on, "getting with Venetia, Ollie," he has to spell out to make sure Oliver doesn't weasel out of the accusation. Still, he tries - the audacity.

"What makes you think I got with Venetia?"

"Farleigh saw you two," Felix answered immediately, "told Y/N all about it -" finally you allow yourself to look up, to level a cold stare at Oliver, who seems almost surprised when he meets your gaze; you make a faint tsk sound, as if to confirm, and go back to look at your book as Felix goes on, indignant, "it's just fucking cringe, mate, I mean really," he huffed, "you're my friend, you're supposed to be here with me -"

"Look, I didn't want to embarrass Venetia," Oliver cuts him off suddenly. Both you and Felix turns to look at Oliver very slowly.

"What do you mean?" Already Felix's voice is softer, still unable to fully bring himself to look at Oliver, while you're fascinated by the panic in Oliver's eyes.

"Well I saw her- I saw her outside and I went down to see was she okay," Oliver can't look at either of you in this moment; you wonder if he's scared to look you in the eyes as he weaves this little story of his. Fascinating to watch, "and... I think she got the wrong end of the stick because..." he trailed off, but his gaze returned to Felix. So gentle, so eager to placate his friend's ego, "she tries to kiss me, and I politely steered her away." It sounds very believable.

"Farleigh said you two were practically eating each other," you finally find your voice, still wary, unlike Felix, who was quickly buying into this series of events. He wants to believe in Oliver so badly.

"Oh, and you believe him?" Oliver shoots off almost automatically, but the minute his gaze meets yours, he has to look away; you absolutely still believed Farleigh, and Oliver could see it in your eyes. But then he's almost scoffing - "me and Venetia? Come on."

"Well, why didn't you tell me?" Felix sounded softly betrayed, but clearly won over, and Oliver returns his attention to the safer of the two of you, gaze trained on Felix and his pout.

"I just..." he searches for a believable answer, something Felix wouldn't hate him for; Venetia was still his sister after all, "I thought it'd be nicer not to," he settles on, "she was hammered, probably doesn't remember," which was unfortunately in character for the eldest Catton sibling.

"She's so embarrassing," Felix finally groaned, and you know he's bought it, hook, line, and sinker. You go back to your book, "and fucking Farleigh, what a little shit-stirrer," he huffs, to which you add, carefully casual.

"He's always known how to get a rise out of me," you know Farleigh wasn't lying to you; Farleigh was a shit-stirrer, but after last Summer, he would never be so cruel as to joke about this. But you play along. Oliver's looking at you now, you can see it in your peripheries, you can almost feel it.

"Well someone has to entertain us all," Oliver offers, to which Felix faintly agrees, glancing at you with a faint question in his eyes, like you're the final piece left to solidify whether he believes. Giving a faint, exasperated smile, you echo him softly - right - and see him finally relax, "that's why we love him," Oliver adds, in what you know is an incredibly pointed move, considering his strained relationship with Farleigh himself.

Felix finally breathes a loud sigh of relief.

"Thank god," he exclaims, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, turning so casually to Oliver with an easy grin, "you know, I thought we had another Eddie situation," despite his casual mention of the past guest at Saltburn, you, several feet away, go perfectly still.

"Eddie?" Oliver asks carefully.

"Yeah, Eddie was my- um, he was my best friend at school," the way Felix stumbles over his wording momentarily is not lost to either you or Oliver, "and he came to stay with us," he continues as light as before, "and he kind of..." Felix makes an uncomfortable noise for a second, fidgeting at the memory, "developed a little thing for Venetia, and everything just got so awkward." Eddie broke Felix's fucking heart, your mind snarled defensively, though as he always has, since the initial betrayal had occurred, Felix retold a much lighter history, "yeah, it kind of ruined our... you know..."

"Ruined your friendship?" Oliver supplied, getting a noncommittal hum from Felix, who refused to elaborate further, "I can imagine," he quietly adds, sounding altogether empathetic to the situation.

Clearing his throat loudly, desperate to remove himself from the discomfort the memories had left him in, Felix declares his intentions to head back inside, not waiting for either Oliver or yourself before he collects his towel and absconds. At least, you find yourself thinking, he moves with far more ease, far less tension, than he'd arrived with. It eases something in you too, as you watch him go, able to smile at his retreating figure before remembering how you're still being watch by Oliver. Oliver who'd all but yelled at you last night because you hadn't told him about your mother. Oliver who you're almost certain definitely did fuck around with Venetia last night, despite what he'd said.

Sure, you could get over Oliver and Venetia being together for one night since he'd felt guilty for having betrayed Felix, and worked to create a lie that even absolved Venetia of anything other than being a predictable embarrassment to her brother. That you could forgive, even if you knew it was a lie.

But his words still haunt you from last night.

"You're still annoyed at me," Oliver moves to take Felix's seat the minute he figures Felix is out of earshot. You don't want to dignify the comment with a response; your sour look should be answer enough. But then his voice turns soft; "you didn't tell Felix what I said to you, did you?" It's not a real question; Oliver's watching you once more with a kind of anthropological fascination that you remember from back at Oxford. In an attempt to avoid his gaze, you bury your nose in your book.

"No idea what you mean."

There's something wrong with you.

"Can I be blunt for a moment?" Oliver asks with a surprising hesitancy. Oliver is often blunt, so the asking seems more and more like a performance than anything else. You turn the page of the book you're definitely not retaining a single word from.

"'m not going to stop you," you huffed momentarily. Oliver, for the long few seconds that follow, is quiet, is watching you. In this moment, his gaze is like a fucking scalpel; you wonder if he's going to ask if you realise believe him, or if he's realised how he hasn't even tried to apologise for what he'd said.

"Why 're you being good to me?"

"If what I am right now is your version of good, that's bloody tragic," you tell him airily, "what was I to you before, saint-like?" It comes out rather bitter, but thankfully Oliver doesn't seem deterred.

"You've always been good to me; all things considered I think this is the most saint-like I've ever seen you," and it sounds sincere enough that you lower your book, expression flat when you finally turn your attention to him. But his blue eyes are earnest, sitting on the edge of the chair far closer than before, all his attention, his focus on you, "you love me," he says quietly, almost awed by the words themselves, "even after all that stuff I said to you; you still love me enough to keep that from Felix -"

"Because how he feels about you shouldn't be effected by how you feel about me; it's not his business," you tried, feeling trapped by the truth of his words.

"You are his business," Oliver insists, and your mouth snaps closed; you kind of hate that he's right, "and you love him like nothing I've ever seen before," he wets his lips, eyes wide when he leans across the space towards you, hand coming to rest on your knee, "but you know he'd never give me another look if he heard about how I spoke to you -"

"I know," you agreed with an awkward little huff, finally, "so you could at least apologise to me," avoiding his eye contact, the silence spills from one moment to the next until you hear him take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for prying about your mum," his thumb is gentle as he rubs small circles against your skin. The thing that lays unspoken between the two of you, the remainder of the apology, why it's lacking, is not a mystery; he's not sorry for the rest of his outburst because he believes it's true, and he knows you think so too.

Still, the apology itself has you relaxing, settling, feeling far more unburdened than before.

"What do you want me to say, Ollie?" Finally, you spoke. It's barely more than a sigh, book closed and head turned to the sky. When Oliver makes a confused noise, not quite sure about what you mean, you sighed, "if you meant what you said last night, about wanting to- to know me, to, you know -" love me, sits heavy on your tongue, unable to leave your lips, "what do you want to know, what do you want me to tell you, what can I say?"

It doesn't occur to you the way it does to Oliver, how starkly revealing your choice of words often is. Once again you find yourself acquiescing to others wants, to Oliver's implicit demand for your truth, taking the path of least resistance for yourself. Instead you're wondering why Oliver's hesitating now of all times, when finally being given what he'd apparently wanted; you don't understand his reluctance, how he feels as though he's coerced this offer from you, how he almost feels disgusted with himself for what he perceives to be your honesty under duress.

"What 're you reading?" He finds his voice finally, but it's surprisingly meek. This was not the question you'd been anticipating, and your eyes open, looking to him curiously. There's no coldness to your gaze anymore. Oliver's gone bashful and almost apologetic. Raising the book enough that you could show off the cover, you levelled a confused frown at him as he asks if it's good.

"It's dry," you tell him after a beat, "but it's modern, so it's not the worst of it's kind that I've slogged through." When you rise from your chair, he seems almost confused until you sit yourself down next to him, laying back on the sofa and coaxing him back to recline in the space by your side, as you'd done what feels like a million times over with Felix and Venetia. At first, Oliver is stiff, looking all too much like a timid deer, half pressed to you until you continue to explain, "a lot of biographies published by successful businessmen from pretty much any time before two-thousand will invariably have this weird undercurrent of biological essentialism and how the subject owes a lot of his confidence and intelligence and all that bullshit to the fact that he's a man, which is why I'm glad my professor had the good grace to recommend me this one, since that caveman-binary-bullshit is gross as hell."

Oliver nods where he's tucked up against your side, gazing at the book in your hand. You can feel him relax into the familiar contact.

"Is that really the most pressing question you had?" At least you sound far lighter than before when you asked it, almost teasing, and Oliver takes a deep breath, still looking at the biography and your finger stuck between the pages in leu of a bookmark.

"Why'd you go into business of all things to study?" His cheek presses against your shoulder, your arm around him warm and secure. A humourless laugh escapes you, and carefully you open the book with the one hand holding it.

"Because a failed lawyer makes a terrible CEO," you'd chuckled more to yourself than to Oliver. It takes you a moment to compose yourself and your thoughts before you give a proper explanation; "the only good thing about my father being in charge of my family's business is that he cares so little about it that he hasn't tried to interfere with it, and therefore hasn't run it into the ground, at least that's what Nan says." Then, wetting your lips, you give him an awkward smile, "you asked me a few days ago what my dad does; Andreas - that's my dad - he doesn't do anything," you admitted, "everyone thinks he runs the family business, but it's a vanity title. At best he's a trophy husband to Pearl - you met Pearl - and her artistic, philanthropy bullshit."

Oliver doesn't manage more than a quiet 'oh', but he settles himself against you, chin on your shoulder, arm warm when he drapes it over your middle. For a few, gentle moments you go back to reading, flipping back the few pages you'd skipped in your frustration with him earlier. There's comfort in the slow turning of pages, in the steady beat of Oliver's heartbeat pressed against your side, in the rhythm of your shared, quiet breaths.

"You still believe what Farleigh said, don't you?" Oliver's voice is so quiet in your ear, he actually sounds forlorn.

"Of course I do," you murmur back, trying to focus on the words in front of you.

"He's just trying to push your buttons."

"Farleigh doesn't have to try if he wants to menace me."

"Nothing I say will convince you, will it?"

Finally, you close your book, sighing faintly. Closing your eyes, allowing yourself to accept this conversation was happening now, you shake your head.

"You think I wanted to hurt Felix that badly that I'd fool around with Venetia?" Oliver tries again to convince you, but your tip your head to face him, expression unimpressed, but not unkind.

"Farleigh is a shit-stirrer, and I'd believe that Ven was drunk, but you, Oliver Quick, are neither as subtle as you think you are, nor as harmless as you want everyone to believe; I think I know that better than anyone," after a moment, you take a deep breath, "and trust me when I say that Farleigh wouldn't lie to me about this."

"If you believe that, why'd you let me lie to Felix?" Its as close to an omission of guilt as you'd get, but that's something about how Oliver apparently respects you enough to not outright deny it that brings you a strange comfort.

"You know why," voice softening once more, place your book down to free your hands. Holding his cheek gently, you can watch the faint guilt in his gaze before his eyes fall closed and he leans into your touch, "I know you won't do it again." His head tips until his forehead is pressed to yours, and you sit in this quiet moment for a long few seconds.

"I don't want to break Felix's heart," Oliver breathes, sounding, for the first time, genuinely remorseful. Hand moving from his cheek, you wrap him up in an embrace, "I do love him," he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper, adding, "and you."

"I know," you assured him, "our Ollie," you teased warmly, and though Oliver remains quiet, when you crack your eyes open you can see him turning red, fighting back a pleased smile, "you're very good at playing bashful, so I always find myself especially endeared in these moments between us when it's actually genuine," slips from your lips quite without you meaning it to, only causing Oliver's blush to deepen. But as soon as you've said it, seen his reaction, your grin widens and you double down, "catching you off guard always catches me off guard, I feel like you're always so deliberate -"

Oliver kisses you quick as you laugh, interrupting your teasing kind of analysis of him before you can get too far in. Another deliberate play, but this one you don't mind. Oliver pulls back from you, only a few inches, enough to once against rest his forehead against yours as you're still sharing this space, this single pool lounge together. He's grinning so brightly.

"At least there's one person here I can fool around with without my head getting bitten off because of it."

[officialfics]

┌──❀Only yours❀─┐

A/N: I combined this one with another request “Gavi jealous smut”. Enjoy 🙌 I’ll be rewriting this to make it better, but it will do in the meantime;)

Warnings: smut, jealous gavi ⚠️

•••

The night was still young when you and Gavi when on your way to a masquerade party. You had been talking about it for month. You and a friend had been planning it for the last two month. it was going to be at her house, since he parents were going away for the week. 

You were begging Gavi to go with you till he finally gave in and agreed. You had talked to him about the them and he seems into it especially your outfit. You were going to wear a short, backless black dress. That hugged your curves and really made you stand out. 

He was going as him only hotter. Only with a suit and a mask, his exact words. You had a good laugh with him a about, but how could you blame him. He is hot and maybe cocky as hell sometimes and you loved him. 

You were getting ready to leave, applying lipstick in the bathroom. When your boyfriend walked in and your gaze met his in the bathroom mirror. -like what you see?- you teased, knowing he had a full view of your ass since you were slightly bent on the counter. He only chuckled and made his way to you. Placed his hands on you ways and looked at you again in the mirror. -te amo- he whispered. 

-maybe you can get this later, te amo también- you whispered in his ear. Kissed his cheek and placed the lipstick back on the counter. You could see a blush creeping on his face, looking at the lipstick stain you left while making your way out of the bathroom.

The party was to die for. Everything you had planned out came out great and people seemed to enjoy it. The themes was even better it felt like a movie only better because you were living it. 

This party is a first for your boyfriend, as he was going to meet your friends for the first time. He wanted to hit it off, he knew how much friendship meant to you. Yet it wasn’t going as planned.

Gavi stood in the corner of the crowded party, watching his you laughing and chatting with a group of friends. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he saw you flirtatiously twirl your hair and toss your head back in laughter. He knew that this was just you being friendly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that you were enjoying yourself a little too much. Gavi felt like an outsider, looking in on a world where he didn't quite belong. He wished that he could be more like his himself around his friends effortlessly charming and captivating everyone around. But for now, he could only stand by and watch, feeling a sense of envy and insecurity gnawing at him. And oh how much he hated it, he knew you were his, so what was his problem?

You noticed your boyfriend behaving differently. So you beckoned him over to you. Hinting you wanted to dance with him. He followed your figure on the dance floor, bottling all his past feeling and thought up. As your bodies were inches apart moving slowly to the music rhythm. yet the jealousy was still brimming inside of him. The glances of the guy in the party were noticeable even through the masks. they were basically picturing you naked and it drove him mad.

Still the way your hips were grinding on his crotch right now, like nobody was around, was enough to make him forget his misery and feel new waves of emotion beaming through his body. Lust.

It wasn’t long before you two galled a cab home. Hans on each others bodies on the way up to his apartment. He stepped into the bathroom as you were stripping your clothes off. He comes back out naked and with lust filled, piercing eyes. 

Capturing your lips in a kiss before he lays you on the bed. His weight on top of your body sinking you down and you feel more aroused. 

-I need to feel you around me- you breathes out and he only smirks in response, he has a hold on you like nobody else. He guides his face to your stomach making his way up to your breasts. Leaving open mouthed kisses on you body making you melt to his touch. 

Taking off your panties and getting a condom from the bed side drawer. You felt him giving his pulsing cock a few strokes. As he aligns himself with your entrance, going in with one fast thrust and you can’t help but gasp from the stimulation. 

His pace is fast yet sensual and you can feel him stretching you out. It feels so good you can’t help clenching around him harder.

-stop hermosa you’re killing me- he confesses with his face in the crook of your neck. You make him weak, the boy is whining.

You can feel he is about to cum from his now ungodly pace, and so we’re you. The heavy feeling of his body on top of yours making you weak. He starts going deeper and your about to cum looking down at his cock, mesmerised by the way it goes in and and out of your wet hole. Eyes rolling to the back of your head. You can’t help but cum, releasing your juices around his hard cock. 

Cubbing his face in you hands. As he places love bites on your chest. Shifting his head up so you can look passionately into his honey glazed eyes and he groans in response. 

-tell me your mine- he breathes with a fucked out gaze.

—I’m all your cum for me, Gavira- you whisper into his ear. As he is still fucking you into the mattress post orgasm. He’s so weak, your words are going straight to his cock. He can feel his orgasm approaching and so is your second. you both cum simultaneously, none of you breaking eye contact. His head falls into the crook of you neck again, breathing heavy and mumbling your name till he comes down from his high.

He kisses your check pulling you into his arms and he swears he could die a happy man tonight. 

-your mine you know- he tried to start a discussion for the tenth time in the last hour. Where does he get the energy from?

-I am, good night Pablo- you cut him off smiling and hiding your face in his neck and drifting off to sleep.

@pedriswife notice me<3

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hey!!! first off I just wanted to say that ur fics make me go feral, like dude you have no idea they're just so soft and fluffy and awesomr and cool and yeah

I was also wondering if i could request something, prompt 10 "You broke somebody's nose for me?" "Of course, it was to defend your honor!" off the valentine's list, melissa asking reader and they're just al fluffy and cute nd yh

i have no idea if you're still doing these or taking requests, i couldn't find anything ab them being closed but if you're not that's totally cool

have an awesome day/night and thanks

There's that magic word again; feral. Honestly, I can't get enough of that reaction to my fic. *happy dance ensues*

This has taken a little longer to get out than I'd like, but I hope you like it. And please consider my requests/asks open unless I post otherwise...but please also be patient! It's not that I've forgotten about them, more life likes to get in the way.

Anyway, enough about me. More about you and your ask! I hope it ticks the cute and fluffy box and is at least in the direction of what you imagined.

~*~

You’re standing at the bar trying to catch the barman’s attention when you feel someone sidle up next to you.  

“So what does the M stand for?” 

It’s takes you a minute to realise they’re even talking to you until they reach out to touch the necklace you’ve been playing with. You startle at the unexpected touch and flinch back, only settling when familiar hands settle on your hips. 

“Mine,” smirks Melissa. 

You take a step further back from the random guy who’s now glaring at the red head. Ignoring him, you settle further back into her embrace as she wraps her arms around your waist, leaning her head on your shoulder.  

Catching the barman’s attention she orders both your drinks over your shoulder before pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

* 

Later that night, you’re sat at your table, waiting for Melissa to return from the bathroom, once again fiddling with your necklace. It’s a habit you’ve had for years, decades even. 

You smile as you recall how you came to have the little ‘M’ you now proudly wear. You had lost the one you used to always wear and had had since being a teenager. It was a simple pendant and not one of any monetary value, but it was familiar and comfortable. For days, you kept going to reach for it only for your fingers to brush empty skin and fall away in frustration. 

It had been movie night at Melissa’s and you had been cuddled up on the couch. They had become somewhat of a tradition for you both, taking turns about to pick the movie and the provide the snacks. Admittedly, the number of movies you actually watched together to the end were few and far between but you both enjoyed those nights all the same. Perhaps even enjoyed more. 

You hear the tinkling of her own necklaces as she toys with them but assume she’d just untangling them as she often does. It’s not until later in the movie that you feel her move your hair, securing a chain around your neck.  

Fingers finding the small charm settled against your chest you had lifted into your line of vision, smiling at the small ‘M’ dangling there. The subtle claim was not lost on you, nor was her nervous smile as you turned to press a kiss to her lips in thanks. 

You’re torn from your reverie by the same guy who approached you at the bar. He sidles up to your table, full of confidence and one too many drinks. 

“You want a real good night? How about you ditch grandma and come home with me?” 

“Excuse me?” you hiss, not quite believing he’s had the gall to say what he just did. “What did you call her?” 

“Oh, come on,” he says, flashing you a grin. “She’s not the worst looking, but she has years on you. There’s no way she can give you what you need.” 

That touches a sore spot. You know the age gap between you and Melissa plays on her minds at times. You hate that it does. Hate that she doubts herself for any reason. Hates that she sometimes doubts what you have together. “You need to stop,” you say, pushing yourself for her feet with the intention of collecting your bags and going to find Melissa and then a new place to drink. 

“Oh baby,” he grins. “I don’t stop, I don’t stop all. Night. Long,” he continues, stepping close and pressing himself against you. You’re not quite sure when you decide that the best response to that is bringing your fist to his face, or if there’s any real conscious decision to it at all. What you are quite sure of, however, is that the result it rather messy and has you escorted out by the bouncer.  

* 

Coming back from the bathroom Melissa finds herself thoroughly confused to find your table empty apart from the waitress cleaning up what looks like the rest of your drinks and...was that blood? She spots your coats and bags hanging still hanging off the back of your chairs, her frown only deepening. “What the hell happened?”  

“That idiot was talking trash about her girl, so she punched him,” came the no nonsense reply as the blonde nods in the direction of the guy from earlier. “Decent right hook too. Bouncer took her outside. Threw the wrong person out in my book.” 

The red head can’t help but smile as she grabs your things and heads outside where she finds you pleading with the bouncer to let you back in.  

“You broke somebody’s nose for me?” 

You turn away from the bouncer at Melissa’s voice and find her clutching your things, an odd expression on her face. “Of course,” you reply like it was obvious. It’s not like you consider violence the answer in many situations, but you’d do anything for the red head. “It was to defend your honour. And he was really pissing me off.” 

She smiles goofily at you. “You really punched someone for me?” 

“Yeah. My hand fucking hurts too,” you grumble, holding your injured hand gingerly. You’ve never punched someone in the face before. Never punched anyone anywhere before. You didn’t expect it to hurt so much.  

She pulls you in for a kiss, effectively halting any further complaints you have. “How about I go back in and get some ice for that then we can go home and I can thank you for defending my honour?” 

“You’re always full of good ideas,” you smile, enjoying the spark in her eyes as she drapes your jacket around your shoulders, careful of your injured hand.  

She chuckles, still wearing that same goofy smile. “Barb is never gonna believe it when I tell her it was you and not me that punched someone.” 

“You could just not tell her?” you suggest, already knowing you’re going to be in for a stern word or two if she does.  

“Oh sweetie,” says Melissa. “I hate to tell you but that hand is gonna bruise. She’s gonna know.” She gently lifts your injured hand and kisses you sore knuckles. 

“Yeah well,” you mumble. “At least she’ll know I stuck up for you.” 

“My hero,” she grins, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you.” 

“Even if my cage fighting career is over before it’s even begun?” 

“Especially because of that,” she smirks. “I don’t want that hand out of commission for any longer than it has to be.” 

[udretlnea]

In the Court of the Creator

Prompts: Inspired by Minecraft!Reader by @fandomshenanigans​, Wardens in the Chasm idea by @mists-reading-nook​ & Alt!+OG!Reader by @questionotmystopit​

Summary: You are brought before the Divine Creator after getting caught in the Chasm. However, before your fate is sealed they suddenly take an interest in your appearance, but why?

A/N: Originally there was supposed to be a two-page short comic serving as the introduction, but during the creative process I realized that 1) I was staying up too late that I simply couldn’t get my body to cooperate in drawing it, and 2) the end result was…not ideal to me; thus I had to scrap it and go ahead with just the story. If you’re wondering what I was doing…yeah it was all of that planning, writing, and internal discussion. Anyway, here’s the piece I was able to finally write and I hope you all enjoy it! (Normally I keep their gender ambiguous, but I really, really wanna write a male reader. Oh, and there’s that 100-follower event I’m cooking...my, I’m gonna be quite busy!)

TW: Precision F-word strike.

Words: 2.3 k

Proofread by: @soleillunne​

It was cold inside the lifeless, marble halls of Celestia. Your wrists were beginning to chafe with how tight the cuffs were; you tried to rub them together to try to loosen them, but it was in vain. Defeated, you merely continued trudging ahead of your captor.

“Keep moving,” a dignified female voice behind you ordered. You suppressed an eye roll. “We’ll be inside the throne room shortly. There, the Creator of Teyvat will judge you, imposter.”

There were those words again. Creator. Imposter. Words that you were familiar with after hearing them countless times ever since you found yourself trapped here with no way back home. How many times did you recite a prayer to this God of Gods hoping for some miracle to show you a way back? How many times did you catch people throwing you dirty looks, muttering about you being gifted for looking like their god; they stopped after you decided to wear a blindfold. Only the truly envious ones had the gall to call you an imposter.

You didn't care about that. You just wanted to sell your potions and find a way back to your beloved Minecraft world.

“Halt! We’ve arrived.” Your recollection is interrupted by the sudden command. You shake your head.  Your eyebrows raised at the impossibly huge set of doors. On either side were some kind of giant robots with a single menacing orange eye. They were adorned with miniature white tree branches on their shoulders. Both of them peered down at you as if silently judging your sins.

Your jailer stepped towards them; she was a tall female with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and wore a navy coat-no, that’s called a tailcoat. She made a salute to the robot closest to her; it made a rumbling noise before it signaled to the other one. They both turned and pushed open the doors. The hinges groaned like phantoms singing in an opera.

“Alright, let’s go,” said Ponytail.

The throne room was sparsely decorated, but the translucent floor that resembled the night sky made up for that. You instinctively looked up and couldn't help but lower your jaw in awe; up in the ceiling was a painting of a humongous figure draped in a white cloak with gold accents. There were stars on and around the body. Their arms were outstretched like they were expecting a hug.

You looked forward and felt your breath hitch. In the distance was a hooded figure sitting on a throne with two others standing on either side. Behind it was the open sky; there were no windows, meaning one could jump from there and fall from a great height. 

Okay, that’s enough intrusive thoughts.

You got close enough that you observed the people standing in front of the throne. To your left was a young woman with antlers and salmon-pink shoulder-length hair. She wore a dark red and black crop top and skirt; she had bright teal eyes with ovoid pupils. To your right was a tall beautiful woman with short hair with blue accents at the end; she wore a dark bodysuit with silver accents and a white fur coat draped over her back. A rather shiny bracelet was on her right wrist.

In her hand was your staff; it was a green metallic stick with a small cylinder protruding from the top with an orange square block inserted in between. They stared at you two as you stopped in front of them.

“As per protocol, I will begin listing off the crimes the guilty party has committed.” Antlers said with neutrality. She opened a scroll she was holding and cleared her throat. “According to eyewitness reports, you have been selling dangerous items to civilians with powerful effects without a legal permit. Furthermore, you entered a highly dangerous and closed-off area in Liyue, witnessed a highly confidential location, and put the lives of several miners in danger.” 

You felt some measure of indignancy swell within you. “Hey come on! It’s not my fault I spawned a Deep Dark biome. My staff was broken and I needed components to fix it. When I heard of a mine just west of Liyue, I didn’t realize it was closed off. Furthermore, my staff…went haywire because of some weird energy down there that infected it which ended up creating that biome.” 

“There were a couple Millileth stationed there. Was it not obvious?” Blue stated coldly.

“Of-of course, but I was worried about the consequences if I didn’t fix my staff,” you sigh inwardly. You lick your lips. “And I didn’t know those miners were there. Also, if they ran into a strange new area without any common sense, then that’s on them not me.” 

“So you admit to being in the Chasm, but you do not deny that you were selling contraband?” Antlers recounted in a controlled voice.

“I didn’t know how things operated in Liyue! I keep telling you that I’m not from here!” You were starting to feel a headache coming on, and the conversation hadn’t lasted five minutes!  “Besides, I only sold to those who were desperate AND rich enough to buy my wares. Also, I only gave some potions of instant healing to those who brought their sick family members; I would never give potions that could harm anyone, I’m not a bad guy!”

Antlers opened her mouth, but a noise beside her made her pause. 

Blue hummed. “Your staff. It is most peculiar. I’ve never seen Thaumaturgy like this before. Spill. Who are you, truly? Being some ordinary person with the creator’s face is one thing, but having access to dangerous magic as this is another.”

“If I told you, would you let me go?” You asked hotly.

“Depends on a number of factors like if this correlates to Abyssal magic, but in reality you’ll probably get a lighter sentence like a lifetime sentence in jail. It’s a much better alternative than getting executed, if you like enclosed spaces that is.”

“Wow. That’s so generous of you. Let me think about-no,” you said flatly. There was no telling what Minecraft logic would do here when something as basic as the elements were used for practical use.

“Hm. A shame. It appears we’re gonna have to execute you after all.” You feel hands behind you grip your shoulders. You try to throw Ponytail off, but blue glowing ropes suddenly spawned and wrapped your legs and arms. 

This…couldn’t be it! You had a home to get back to, a cat to pet and feed! So many projects would be unrealized if you died here!

“Hold.” A new voice spoke up. It took you a second to realize it was the figure on the throne. They snapped their fingers and pointed at Blue, then at you. Blue nodded and the bracelet on her right glowed; the ropes on your body disappeared and Ponytail released her grip on you. 

The creator stepped down from their throne towards you. You try to back away, but Ponytail puts a hand on your shoulder and you pause; you do your best not to tremble at how this all-powerful being was looking at you despite not seeing their eyes.

“Look at me.” They say commandingly in an ethereal and firm tone. You do. And in genuine awe. The power this being was radiating was so immense that it was almost suffocating. You felt as if you were an ant, and the more you scrutinized this person, the more you slowly realized your place.

Wait a minute, something’s not right. you think to yourself. You leaned forward so that you could see under his hood somewhat better. You could make out some of their features, and if you squinted you could’ve sworn they looked familiar. Huh, is it me or does this person look like me…! Oh. No way. 

You suppress a growing sense of unease building up in your stomach. Your eyebrows comically raise themselves, and to your amusement so do the creator’s.

‘What the heck?’ you both mouth simultaneously. Whether through interest or impulse, the creator stepped down from their throne and stood in front of you. You stood straight. Slowly, the creator reached for their hood; it fell from their head. A chorus of gasps filled the room with one of them being your own. Nobody dared to breathe, fearful that it could break the moment.

Staring back at you was your own face, even down to the jawline. You open your mouth.

“What the fuck?”

///

After much discussion that took all day, it was declared by the creator that you would be staying with them under house arrest; you would be supervised by some handpicked acolytes all day. At night, the creator themself would look after you. Luckily, the idea seemed to satisfy the acolytes and no more questions about you were thrown; time would tell if this new protocol needed more polishing.

It was night, and currently, you were sitting in the garden watching a swarm of crystalflies float about. They were pretty to look at already, but they glowed so mesmerizingly at night. You took a deep breath and sighed peacefully.

Then, you felt a presence beside you. You turned your head. It was the creator- you They had their hood off; their hair was long, jet black, and tied in a ponytail. They possessed dark purple eyes with slit pupils; tiny white dots danced in their iris like twinkling stars. Two strands of hair rested on either side of their shoulders. They rested their hands in their lap.                                                                                                                              

“Hey, you got room for one more?” You simply shrug, uncaring for another presence, but happy that you had company. After another pause, they spoke again. “You…good?”

“Oh yeah, I avoided being thrown into a dark cell and left to rot. Or worse. I’m actually grateful we came up with that story about me being your sibling,” you told him. 

“Of course! I’m not so arrogant as to believe that I’m the only version in this multiverse to exist. There have to be others like me out there, and those who weren’t so lucky to be gifted godlike powers the moment they teleported here.” Creator!You looked at you with sudden curiosity. “How did you get here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah, that. Well, you see I was trying to build a portal to the Aether-wait, do you know what Minecraft is?” When they nod you snapped your fingers. “I kept experimenting with different blocks using my command block until I got one working. And being the genius that I was, I decided to test it out myself. I didn’t realize it was a one-way trip until the portal behind me immediately closed. The rest is history.”

“I see…it must be terrifying being in an unknown world having to learn how things work.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. The slimes are so different from back home. I miss how square everything used to be.” 

“Er, apologies for bringing down the mood. That was not my intention.” You wave them off understandingly. They clear their throat, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, have you been keeping up with the news from the multiverse?”

You shake your head. “No. I mean, I didn’t know one could do that.”

“I have my ways of checking, and I encourage you to read up. Knowledge is power after all. I can show you some tomorrow.��� They smile and cross their arms. However, it quickly turned upside down. “Apparently, someone went and stole multiple universes from this multiverse.”

“...You mean, someone stole multiple different versions of Teyvat…?” Creator!You nodded. That’s unbelievable! Did you happen to catch how many they took?”

“If I recall correctly, it was exactly 168. Luckily, after a while, they were all put back in their places.”

“Is that number significant?” They shrug before dropping the subject entirely.

The conversation pauses for a moment as the two of you find something else to discuss.

Creator!You huffed. “By the way, what…what should I call you? Because it’s going to be confusing if someone calls for one of us when we’re in the same room. Plus, the ancient manuscripts already refer to ME when it uses our name.” 

You laugh excitedly. “Aw man, I was waiting for this moment! I’ve always wanted to change my name to Yu, like Y-U.”

“That sounds adequate, but you’re gonna need a surname too,” said Creator!You. “What about…Nakayama?”

“Nakayama Yu…it has a nice ring to it. I like it! Alright, I’m gonna use that!”

They made an approving noise. “I’m pleased you like it so much. So…you wanna shake hands to, I don’t know, make it official?”

“Sure!” You stuck out an open hand. “I’m Nakayama Yu. It’s a pleasure to meet you, me!”

“Likewise!” They took it and you both shook firmly. You give a breathy chuckle.

It was nighttime, but the air wasn’t cold. You instinctively rubbed at your wrists, as if double-checking there weren’t any cuffs. You chatted away with yourself until you felt sleepy; you went to your guest room, immediately flopped on the bed, and started snoring.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

The Prince and His Corpse Bride (part ii)

part i

pronouns: she/her warnings: eventual infidelity? (he and Baela have no romantic connection) summary: The good news is that Jacaerys has found his grandmother’s ring. One problem. He may have accidentally gotten married to the wrong person? As he traipses through a strange new world to get it back, his not-wife isn't what she seems... disclaimers: of course i do not own the original corpse bride nor asoiaf however this is my own work and story, i do not give permission for my work to be transferred onto other platforms or translated dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 3,818 

“Wha-Who are you?” Jacaerys splutters, scrambling his back against the weirwood tree. The dark shadow of nightfall begins to overcast and he can distantly hear Cregan shouting for him. Your lips fold of their own accord as you snicker, you kneel down to his height. “I told you, silly,” You giggle and brush a strand of fallen hair behind his ear in a manner akin to affection. He recoils but you take no notice, smiling just as sweetly at him as if he had gifted you a thousand poetries. You lift your veil to flow down your back rather than over your face. “I’m your wife.” If Jacaerys wasn’t sure this was a dream then he certainly is now. He flinches at the words and slaps a hand to his mouth. “N-No.” He protests, breath stuttering as a nervous chuckle breaks past his dead cold–No!--just cold lips. His palms raise as if in surrender though he intends to do the opposite. “There must be some mistake for I am already betrothed to another.” Your eyes narrow, the flesh of your cheek–the half still present–flows between your teeth. His heart batters hard against his ribs. Your head tilts now, inspecting him and suddenly he feels like a little boy presented to the court again, lacking the snow white hair he is eager to possess. 

You sigh at his frazzled appearance and horrified expression. “Indeed.” Your voice bellows and he sighs himself but in relief. “Send your former betrothed my regards.” You turn your back on him and even though it would be so easy for him to run away; he finds himself chasing after you. For the ring, he assures himself, for the ring. A torturous wind ensues but you don’t seem phased, your hair barely even ruffles. “No, I–” He huffs and outstretches her palm. He raises his head high. You’re a Targaryen. He reminds himself. Remember what Daemon told you. Princes do not need permission. He winces at the phrase but still pierces her eyes with his own. “I need that ring.” He demands. Again, you tilt your head but this time condescendingly. You square your shoulders and attempt to match his height. Both your and the prince’s eyes narrow. “No.” You state coolly. “You don’t.” He opens his mouth but you wag a single index finger in his face. “You don’t.” You repeat like scolding a puppy. “This is a vow of one’s devotion toward one’s wife, correct?” You ask, quick and almost as though you had thrown this out before. He nods stiffly. “And a symbol of cherished love and protection?” Again he nods, brow furrowing. “So it belongs to your wife?” He sighs but before he can speak, you interrupt his impending thoughts by wagging your finger again. He seals his lip tightly. He nods. “Yes.” He finally speaks. You nod and he has the gall to be proud of himself for once. You stop walking and spin around to face him, clapping your hands together shortly. “Then we have no problem.” His eyes widen. “Really?” “Yes. Your wife is wearing it.” Jacaerys shuts his eyes and curses himself. 

“You are not my wife.” He states, trying to stay calm even as you start walking off again. He grimaces and glances behind him at the First Keep. He wrestles with himself a moment before scurrying after you again. Jacaerys Velaryon has run before and he does not like it. He hates it rather. He hates that he left for Dragonstone as a child, he hates that he left his life in King’s Landing, leaving him as a stranger in what is supposed to be his own home. He hates his brown hair but he hates the stares cursed onto him most of all. Because they’re all thinking the same thing. You do not run unless you have something to hide from. And he is done hiding. He will accept his responsibilities, marry Baela and he will get back that ring. The winds of Winterfell become all consuming, pressing against his face as if in an attempt to stop him. The roots of so many Northern trees coil before his foot, curling in attempts to trap him. The mixed messages surge through the prince’s mind. Even the Gods’ nature do not know which youngling they side with. The prince or the corpse. He is not fond of his odds and this does not cast him in the confidence he prays for. 

He follows, pleading with the woman like a beggar which he supposes he is now. A shiver jolts through Jacaerys like a warning. “Whatever it is that pleases you I will consider so long as you return my ring. You will be rewarded handsomely.” “There is no need! I am quite satisfied, lord husband.” You quip, the words slithering from your tongue like a trained snake. Jacaerys calls out, trying to track your figure as you twist through the various trees when suddenly she falls. He gasps, eyes widening as he scrambles to find her, was there a bottomless pit he hadn’t heard of? “Lady?” He calls out, peering over the edge but he frowns at the mere blanket of snow and fallen leaves. A single shaking hand of his reaches out to pad it gently and he gasps when it pushes through into emptiness. He frowns as he investigates, blinking furiously. Jacaerys continues prodding at it, how perfectly it looks encased around his forearm. When he pulls it out again, he finds that it is not wet. It is as though he had never touched the snow at all but instead of further questioning it, he sighs out in relief. It must be a dream. And then he falls, or more accurately; is pulled. 

Jacaerys shrieks as he plummets down below but again the snow hasn’t shifted. It appears like a tightly enclosed tunnel of moths and darkness. His breath quickens madly, A dream, this is a dream, a dream, a dream. The air whips around him, unnatural wind tosses his hair in his eyes and moths flutter to press into his clothing. His hands swat at them to no avail, squinting at the force of the wind. His nose wrinkles at a newfound smell, it is like laying in damp fabric. He hears a squeal and snaps his eyes open, head rising to see your excited form clapping. You rush to help him stand and he begrudgingly accepts it, eyes roaming the strange room. “I knew you would come,” You gush, intertwining your fingers with his reluctant and rigid ones. You take no notice.  “I knew you would come for me and you would follow me down and you were absolutely wonderful! Oh you were perfect, everything that I have ever dreamed of–!”  “You pulled me!” He realises and narrows his eyes. You shrug and smirk mischievously. “Would you not have come, anyway?” You tease which manages to snap his mouth shut because he would have, he knows he would have and you know he would have. He is an honourable prince and while he may not particularly care much for you right now, he was not willing to let you fall to your die over his pettiness. 

He huffs as you hum sweetly and lead him through a long, night-dark passage, taking the time to glance at the various dark blue paintings surrounding you; portraits. All of them and there must be over five thousand at least. You twirl with his hand and sing sweet songs. He softens at the endearing display though disease eats at his stomach. “What are these?” He asks, pointing to one of the oil paintings. You halt and glance before grinning and skipping up to it, tugging Jacaerys as you go and making him stumble. “That,” You beam. “is her grace Princess Alyssa.” His eyes widen like those of a bird and he gapes. “My great-grandmother?” He asks and you freeze. Your brows knit. “You’re a…Targaryen?” You ask slowly, breath hitched and holding. The young prince takes in the potion of anxiety and nerves splashed upon your expression by his words. Still, Jacaerys stands proud of his ancestry and nods sharply. “Yes. I am the blood of Targaryen and Velaryon, a dragonrider and your prince. What is it you know of my line?” He musters all the strength of his blood to wrap around his bones. To firm them. Solidify his confidence and raise his chin high. He doesn’t like how you’re hesitating, how you bite your lip and nibble it like a frightened animal. “I did not realise.” You mutter quietly, almost disappointed. He deflates. Impulsively, your hand reaches out and ruffles through his brown hair and you visibly brighten again. “I thought you had been a Stark with hair so wonderful.” Suddenly, a flush creeps along his face and he almost purrs at the praise. “But no matter, you are my husband all the same.” And like that you’re walking again, leaving him to scamper after you with questions burning at you. “I am not, though I appreciate such niceties.” You ignore him. “Silly,” You chastise, voice reminiscent of scolding a young kitten. He huffs again, on the verge of snapping but then your words soothe him again with curiosity. “She was a kind madame, guided most of us here.” 

“Guided you?” Jacaerys asks with an uneasy tilt, tentative. “Where do you mea–?” He’s interrupted by the resounding music, of harps, vielle, lutes all bashing strangely and out of time. Jacaerys’ orbs skim across the large room, at the intensity and swarming bodies all eager to gasp and greet him. He shivers and bats them away, close to falling. You hold him up and grin, giggling at who he assumes to be your friends, he doesn’t know what to think anymore. “Husband,” You beam. “I would like you to meet my family.” They all squeal and prod at him experimentally. “Don’t scare him!” You warn them but still smile brightly. Jacaerys stares, wild-eyed around him and clings to you like a frightened kitten. Both his arms loop around your waist but he straightens his back, still attempting to appear the regal prince of his name. A significantly older woman approaches and squishes your cheeks. “He’s cute.” She coos and winks at the both of you. Jacaerys bursts red and looks down. A man this time takes it upon himself to bump his hip and rake three fingers through his hair, only three,one on his left and two on his right. Jacaerys shudders and cringes back but the man takes no notice. You squeeze his hand and begin pointing out the various people around him but he can only find it in himself to remember four of them. “A…big family.” He chokes out and glances around. “Where are your mother and father?” Perhaps you will listen to reason if he can convince your parents that this was a mistake, your marriage is unconsummated of course. You only giggle at him. 

“They are not here,” You respond in cadence. “They are still living.” Silence. Shock. Horror. Those are the only things rushing through his ears but you seem unaffected as his jaw drops and his lips stutter and stumble. “Wha-what do you mean?” He asks, moving to grasp your forearms tightly. Your brows rise. “You did not know?” You ask, swallowing around the nerves. It is not bashfulness that consumes his face in crimson this time. “Still living? You are dead?” He repeats, roaring. A few of your ‘family’ members gasp and grumble to themselves. He tenses and shoves himself away from you. You frown. “You came for me, you-you came to save–!” “I did no such thing!” His voice is boisterous. “You have taken me on a wild goose chase to follow my ring which you have stolen from me!” Your mouth opens to protest but he stretches a finger in your face. “No! You will not talk, you are a childish, naive girl who cannot accept her own death and is now dragging me through Seven Hells just to reclaim my own belonging–” “One that is sacred and worth more than some Northern girl that I have met mere minutes ago.” “Husband, are you not pleased?” You ask, suddenly your snark is gone and left in its place is a fragile teenager. He ignores you and keeps rambling. “I have a betrothed, I have a life, I have a throne to claim one day, I have–” He stops, his arms stop waving about and he looks at you again, really looks at you. He stops. He is not the only one frightened. 

Your eyes fill with water, your lip trembles and your arms are wrapped so tightly around yourself. Breath lodges in his throat. He made you cry. Jacaerys waits a moment and then two more before turning gentle and softening his own eyes. He reaches out to you. “Lady, I am sorry, I–” You sniffle and bolt but as he’s about to chase after you, not for the first time, the stout woman from earlier grabs his arm stiffly, upturning her nose. “Leave her. You are lucky her heart is not as hard as her bone.” She glances up and down at him and he can tell what she’s thinking. He sighs and looks down, letting her too slip away. “He may have the bloodline but he doesn’t have the brains does he?” Jacaerys hears distantly and clenches his jaw before turning to find a resting place aways from them. He sighs as he sits at a stool, he thinks the room is very strange indeed with its various skeletal portraits and strangely human furnishing, a bar is even behind him right now. He hears a clink of glass on the said table but ignores as he feels an oncoming presence. “Hello,” A voice grunts beside him before he feels a slap across his shoulders. “A Targaryen, eh?” Jacaerys nods, already prepared to hear scepticism. “Not Rhaenyra’s kid are ye?” He frowns and finally looks up at the man with speckled face and thin hair. Jacaerys thins his own lips and glances over him. “Perhaps.” he settles on, unsure where it will land him to either confirm or deny. The man smiles. “Ah,” He nodded. “I knew I could see her in your eyes.” Jacaerys frowns and looks down, shame wrapping him like an old blanket. Old, worn and damp. You wish it would bring you the same comfort as it did when you were a child but something is wrong now. It isn’t with innocence in your ears, it is with speculation and longing. He swallows. “My eyes are brown, my Lord.” He rebuts with careful grace. The man leans forward to catch his eye. “Yes but the mischief is there,” The man grins like omniscient himself. He reaches a hand out and ruffles the boy’s hair. 

“I do not suppose you remember me.” The man withers with the ghost of a smile and a sigh peeks from his lips. “A shame but not insulting.” he murmurs. Jacaerys softens, he’s disappointed someone again. The young prince looks down and sighs. “I cared for you as a child, when your mother was in council meetings and your fa-Ser Harwin was at his duties.” There’s a knowing glint in his gaze and Jacaerys looks at him again, more carefully this time before gasping and jumping to embrace him. “Ser Lorn!” He exclaims and suddenly he doesn’t feel like a scolded child, he feels like a free one. Ser Lorn chuckles and pats his back, throaty laugh more familiar than the clothes Jace wears. The man tugs away from him and motions to the bartender. He thanks him and grasps a glass full of strange yellow liquid. He slams it on the table with the roughness of a soldier. “Take a drink, dear boy, you’ll need it with these lot.” He glances around at the various peering eyes. “I’m sure this comes as a shock to ye, our Bridey tends to be a bit impulsive.” He nudges him as slushes the drink before handing it to the boy. Jacaerys looks sceptically down on it before hesitantly bringing to his lips and he gags at the strong smell, Lorn bursts into laughs, slapping his back again as Jacaerys takes a reluctant sip. It’s strange, burning and the glass is as hefty as the bar itself. He coughs as he puts it back down on the wood. He wipes his mouth. “Atta boy,” He winces and scrunches his nose at the taste. 

“I want answers.” He blurts and turns, gentle-eyed, at his old friend. The man sighs and swallows, looking away. “What do you want to know?” Lorn asks. Jacaerys sits upright. “Everything!” He splurts. “Who is she? Why am I here? What’s happening, what’s going to happen? What is she?” Lorn squeezes his shoulder. “She’s our corpse bride.” He answers then drives a finger into the boy’s chest. “And how I understand it, you have wed her.” Jacaerys’ brow crinkles and he shakes his head. “That’s not true, I never, I didn’t!” He huffs in frustration. “I never would have said those vows had I known her body were there. Had I known this was even a possibility!” Lorn tightens his lips. Jacaerys looks off to were his ‘bride’ had fled away. “I didn’t mean to.” He looks like a sad puppy left out in the rain. “How did she get like this?” “It’s a long story…” “I have time.” Jacaerys’ eyes harden and suddenly his prince persona has returned full force. “It was many years ago, you yourself must have been but sixteen.” Jacaerys frowns. He had expected her to be a lot older. “A Lady in her own right and a beautiful one, many suitors and even more vying for her attention.” Jacaerys hesitates as he takes in the information. “Is…Is she…?” “Is she what, dear boy?” “Is she the Lady Y/n?” Silence takes over and then slowly Lorn nods. “A mysterious man too well known for his own good came and visited Winterfell. A man said as brutal as the hand of the Gods but as beautiful as she and our poor baby, she fell hard in fast. Her father denied the man her hand but she swore to him that she would elope. Our lovers made a promise but when it came time, when she snuck to the Godswood with only her mother’s wedding gown and as many jewels as would fit in her satchel…” Lorn pauses, sorrow making him wince. Jacaerys waits. “She was ready but she waited and waited for him to show until finally she heard rustling, turned around and–” Jacaerys leans forward, more enthralled than he could ever have imagined. “Then everything went black and when she opened her eyes? She was dead as dust.” Lorn takes a swig of his ale. 

“But…” Jacaerys slowly processes the dreary tale and bites his lip. “But what about the man?” “She never told us. What she did tell us is that she made a vow lying under that tree, she’d wait for her true love to come set her free and vow in the way that was supposed to be and cloak her in his protection for all eternity. Protection.” Jacaerys sags his shoulders. “And now he has come.” Jacaerys rise in alarm with wide eyes and shakes his head, standing. “That’s-that’s not me!” He protests. “I have a betrothed!” “You made a vow, dear boy,” “No! Not to her, to Baela! It was an accident! I was practicing!” “She’s a lovely girl.” Lorn utters softly, softer than anything he’s ever heard. “She is kind and graceful, dutiful, she is–” “She is dead! Her vows shouldn’t matter!” The boy snaps and Lorn hardens. “Watch your tongue. Vows of the dead are a very serious business.” “What?” “There are seven rules,” He states calmly. “One, once a vow is made it must be fulfilled otherwise the participant dies,” Jacaerys’ eyes grow impossibly rounded. “Two, someone living can bring a deceased person back to life if they seal them with fated promise and help them fulfil their vow. Three, If someone undead makes a vow to someone living, it does not take any effect, neither participants must take it. Four, If someone makes a vow before they pass, they must spend their undead existence attempting to fulfil it, they may only pass to the afterlife once it is fulfilled, or forever live undead in the inbetween of realms. Five, the vow must be satisfied once begun within two moons time or the undead will be forced live forever in a state of unrest.” He hesitates now. “Six, the vow does not have to be completed to be satisfied by someone living and seven, it must be completed within seventy-two hours.” Jacaerys sighs in relief. “Then I am free!” “You know that would not be right.” “It was not right that I was tricked into this.” Jacaerys argues. 

“No but it is not her fault.” “Then whose is it?” “Sometimes there is no one,” Lorn answers, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to marry Baela, it is my duty,” Lorn rolls his eyes, tired of the same repeated words. “Well are you in love with her?” Jacaerys tenses at the words and twitches his face. “She is my cousin, I have known her all my life, of course I love her!” “But are you in love with her?” Jacaerys grunts in frustration and stands. “No but that matters not, I swore an oath, I swore to honour her, to-to–!” “What good is a marriage without being in love?” Lorn asks, warmth threading through his words. “Your mother was miserable.” Jacaerys snaps his sights on him. Lorn waits. “This isn’t the first time that she has seen you, if you were wondering.” Lorn mentions slowly. Jacaerys knits his brows together for the hundredth time that eve. “She used to follow you around like a puppy everytime she visited King’s Landing, she used to hide behind trees and peek as you trained with your brother and uncles.” Lorn chuckles. “I didn’t know…” Jacaerys whispers and looks away. “You used to watch her too.” Silence lingers in the cold, decayed air. “I know.” The prince speaks, looking down. “She was beautiful.” “Is beautiful.” “That does not matter! She is not meant to be mine…What if…” He swallows, an idea shooting through his mind. “What if I find the man? The man she was supposed to marry? Will the vow stay true?” Lorn stays quiet in conflicting thought.  “I suppose but–” “Then I will find him!” Jacaerys splutters with relief. “I will speak with my Lady, apologise and find her true love!” “You must be warned of the time limit. Do not forget, young man.” Jacaerys nods quickly and begins scrambling away again. “I won’t!”

The Prince and His Corpse Bride Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @chompchompluke @its-actually-minicika @paranormal-fairy1984 @ntlycnrgl @hopelesswritergall

HOTD Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @blackdreamspeaks @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @adelusionalwriter

[bluejones]

show us the way

pairing: steve murphy x javier peña x f!reader word count: 2.7K warnings: established relationships and dynamic, smut, unprotected piv, brat taming, steve is a soft dom, everyone’s being kinda childish and not communicating properly.. you’ll see summary: steve sets everyone right when they’re all having a bad day, because sometimes you just need… an adjustment | read on AO3 here~

As soon as Javi walked through your front door, you could tell he wasn’t in the best mood. You wanted to have a nice relaxing night with him, you really did. But when you pulled him in for a kiss, he barely brushed over your lips before moving away and taking off his jacket.

“Um, hello to you too.” You moved around him, taking his jacket, and hanging it on a hook near the door. “How was work?” You tried to sound cheery, but when he responded in basically just a grunt, you had to take a breath to calm yourself. You’d had a pretty shit day yourself and your patience was wearing thinner by the minute. Javi was not helping.

“Awesome, great conversation.” You said sarcastically as you rolled your eyes and moved past him to head toward the couch.

“I’ve had a long day, baby.”

“Yeah… so have I. So sorry for wanting to relax with you a little.”

“Baby, just, come on. Sit with me.”

“No. I don’t want to spend the night with you anymore.” You huffed and stormed into the kitchen. Javi grumbled your name and trailed after you. You were being completely unreasonable and you knew it but, you wanted Javi’s attention – wanted him to want to be here, with you. What you didn’t fully expect was the shouting match you would eventually get into.

“Why do I even invite you around anymore? You’re just a big grump.”

“Because if I don’t come, you go crying to Steve and then I have to hear it from him!”

You exaggerated your gasp, your hand flying to your chest in faux shock. “Oh, so you don’t even want to come? You’re just doing it to get Steve off your back. Wow. That’s just fucking lovely Javier.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You probably don’t even like me anymore.”

“Stop this now.” He said, his tone serious and a scowl began to form on his face. “You’re just being ridiculous.”

You might have stopped, but the least rational part of your brain told you it was unnecessary for him to even add the ridiculous part. You were definitely louder than you wanted to be when you yelled, “I’M BEING RIDICULOUS?!”

Javi didn’t respond as you both stopped and turned your head to the door when you heard heavy footsteps come up the stairs outside your apartment. Javi sighed deeply, wiping his hands over his face.

“See! Look what you’ve done.” You whispered angrily to him.

“Oh sweetheart,” He smirked at you with a raised brow, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “He’s not coming for me.”

You scowled at him, puffing out breath in annoyance, “You’re such an ass!”

At that moment, the door swung open and Steve barged through it.

“What in the hell is going on?” He looked flustered, his cheeks slightly pink and his usually soft bright blue eyes were hard and dark. He was serious.

“I'm trying to work and I can hear you from downstairs!” He eyed the both of you, but when neither of you answered, he just sighed and let his head hang low.

You curled your lip at Javi, sneering at him. Unfortunately, Steve didn’t miss it. He turned to Javi purposely so as not to address you as he spoke, something he knew infuriated you.

“Are you going to take care of her or am I going to have to do all the work? Again?”

Javi bristled at this and frowned, while you crossed your arms.

“He started it!”

Javi scoffed, even having the gall to point his finger at you while he spoke. “You started it.”

You were stunned, couldn't believe he would do such a thing. How fucking dare he.

You swatted his hand away, “Don’t point your fucking finger at me, you fucking started this Javier!”

As you and Javi continued, Steve had moved to the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. He stalked over to Javi, shoving the beer into his hands and pushing him back toward the couch by his shoulders. When the back of his knees reached the edge of the couch, he fell into it and looked up at Steve, confused for a moment before he understood. He was to stay right here.

Steve gave him a pointed look before spinning around and heading for you. If there was ever an embodiment of annoyance, frustration, and downright disappointment, it was Steve in this moment.

He grabbed both of your shoulders, spinning you around so you faced toward the hall, down where your bedroom was. He gave you a light push forward against your back, but you dug your heels into the hardwood floor as best you could.

“No. This isn’t fair.”

Steve was silent as he grabbed your arm, squeezing it in warning before using his body to move you. You stumbled into the room, spinning around to face Steve, both of you crossing your arms at the same time.

“Why are you being mean to Javi, huh?

“Steve,” you whined, “He came here!”

He just rolled his eyes. “I know you invited him over tonight. And I know you chose him over me for this exact reason. You think you can get away with more with him.”

You didn’t look him in the eye. You knew he was right.

“But when I can hear you through the fucking walls...” He shook his head as he smoothed down his hair with a hand. “It’s too much.”

You groaned. “It. Was. Him!”

“Yeah? Say it to me again.” He spoke with authority, a voice that demanded respect from anyone that heard it and you tried not to let it affect you. A small shiver crept up your back, you were sure you contained it. When you didn’t respond, he continued.

“Get on the bed.” He said flatly, no emotion on his face.

You remained where you were, but when he made a move toward you, you quickly scrambled onto the side of the bed furthest away from him and hugged your legs to your chest. Then you waited.

He took a breath, came to the edge of the bed and slowly took his jacket off while maintaining eye contact with you as he did. Even though he was frustrated, he didn't seem as flustered as he did before. Some of the hardness had gone from his eyes, and you briefly wondered if you saw a flash of mischief in them or if it was just your imagination.

He folded his jacket over once and then let it drop to the floor.

“Come here.”

You just scowled at him but he rested a knee on the bed, making it dip when he reached forward and grabbed you by the ankles, dragging you down the bed. You squealed and tried to squirm away, but he only held on to you tighter, situating himself between your legs and looming over you.

“You know Javi had a long day. And frankly so have I.”

“I’ve had a long day too.” You pouted up at him and you thought you saw a ghost of a smirk on Steve's lips.

“Yes, but you don’t use your words do you?” He wrapped a hand around your jaw and made you face him. “Just make it difficult for everyone else. Isn’t that right?”

When you didn’t respond, he tapped the inside of your thigh. “Isn’t it?”

“Hmm.” You mumbled, looking away from him as he released your face from his grip.

His fingers brushed under the waistband of your pants, his voice low when he spoke. “You want attention darlin’, is that it?”

When you didn’t respond again, he pulled your pants and underwear down in one rough motion and before you could get your bearings again, he had licked his thumb and began rubbing your clit in slow, circular motions. You winced, only to try and stop the moan from escaping you.

“C’mon baby, gonna pretend you don’t like it? We don’t have that much time today.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh. You don’t?” he asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow. You shook your head, only to jolt when you felt his fingers dip lightly at your entrance, betraying how wet you already were. “Hmm, that doesn’t seem like the case to me.”

“Doesn’t mean you’ll make me cum.”

“Oh.” He pulled back enough to look at your face properly. “Is that what all this is about? You wanna cum sweetheart?” He said as he chuckled to himself and planted a not so soft kiss on your lips.

“You can't make me cum.”

“Huh? Sorry, you wanna repeat that?”

“You can’t make me c—” Your words were cut off by a groan as Steve plunged two fingers into you at once, already curling them and reaching that sweet spot inside you. He set a steady pace, his thumb hitting your clit every other stroke. His other hand came up to rest on your chest, pushing you into the mattress and keeping you in place and ultimately stopping you from moving around.

You whined at him but he just shushed you before leaning over to kiss you. His mouth was so soft and tender but his fingers inside you were anything but, working you up so well you thought you might cum after a few short minutes. But he quickly pulled them out, forcefully flipped you over onto your stomach and unbuttoned his jeans, pressing his hard length against you.

You heard him hum in approval before grabbing your hips and pulling them back so your ass was in the air. He didn’t delay, pushing himself inside you until he reached the hilt and thrusted once slowly, then twice before pulling you back to meet his every move. He was relentless with his actions, pounding into you with the precision one would only have by truly knowing you inside and out. His fingers bruised your hips from pulling you back against him repeatedly and there wasn't much for you to do besides grip the sheets and muffle your sounds.

At some point, he managed to get his arm under you and across your chest and you were suddenly brought upright, pressed tightly against his chest as he held you and continued to thrust into you. The angle reached an entirely different spot deep inside you, making you shudder. His fingers swept over your stomach and moved lower, through your folds and began rubbing your clit. “Oh my god, I’m-” You tried to speak through a desperate moan but he cut you off midway, gripping you tighter as you felt his warm mouth at your ear.

“You gonna be good for Javi?”

“Only if…” you choked out another moan, “if he’s good to me.”

“I’ll make sure.” He whispered and sounded genuinely sympathetic for the first time tonight. “You gonna be good, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“Say, Yes Steve I will be good.”

You whined and tried to shift out of his grasp, but he had you pinned to him, all while still moving inside you. “No, you’ll say it.” He stopped the motion he had on your clit entirely.

“I’ll be good Steve.” You cried out, so desperate for him to touch you like you needed.

“Good girl.”

He began to rub your clit faster than before and it was almost everything you needed to push you over the edge. He nudged at your ear again, his voice a low whisper.

“I’m going to cum inside you, so every time you feel me leak out of you, you’ll remember not to be so difficult.” He punctuated the last word with a rough thrust of his hips, the power of it making you gasp.

“Please, please!” You were so, so close. Your grip on his arms that were holding you up tightened, leaving nail indents in his skin but he didn't seem to mind. He just kept his steady pace and his short, deep thrusts, reaching the very depth of you to the point you weren't sure where he ended and you began.

As he tenderly kissed the pulse point at your neck, your body tensed and you arched back against him as you let your orgasm rip through you with a weak moan, too worked up and overwhelmed to do anything but let ragged gasps escape you as you started to shake. In your haze, you distantly heard Steve find his own release before he lowered you gently back down on the bed and lay behind you with an arm draped over you before pulling you into him and letting you rest against him.

You were both silent for a time before he shifted and shuffled off the bed, buttoning up his jeans and righting his shirt while you just watched him.

“Next time you’ll just say that you want to cum after a long day, won’t you?” He grinned at you and left a lingering kiss on your forehead and you soaked in the warm feeling it gave you while returning his smile. “Now I really gotta finish this work tonight, okay?” You always wanted him to stay afterwards but, you understood by now that he wouldn’t be able to relax with you anyway if he still had files, reports and maps on his mind.

You nodded and he kissed you again, on your mouth this time and it was sweet, tender. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” He grabbed his jacket off the floor and made for the door.

“See you.”

He closed the door gently behind him and while you probably should have got up as well, you weren't about to give them both, specifically Javi, the satisfaction of seeing you right after what had just happened. So you stayed on your side, until you determined what the best amount of time was to wait before you would go back out and face Javi.

Steve closed the door behind him, putting his jacket back on and walking into the living room. He took a spot on the couch right next to Javi, where he was staring blankly at the tv, not really watching. Neither of them spoke for a moment until Steve sighed.

“You shouldn’t rile her up like that.”

“I know.”

“She only does that because you push her.”

“I know.” There was amusement in his voice and Steve turned to look at him, seeing that the side of his mouth had turned up. Steve just shook his head, before sighing again and placing his hand on Javi’s knee and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Be nice, Javi. See ya tomorrow.”

Javi didn’t bother replying before Steve got up to leave, but Javi watched as he walked out the door.

Eventually, you made your way out of the bedroom after throwing some clothes back on. Javi was still sitting on the couch and watching tv in the same position Steve had put him in but he was visibly more relaxed, having slouched into the cushions.

Like nothing had ever happened earlier, you sat facing him and draped a leg over his knee, wiggling around to get comfortable before you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him into you and kissed his cheek. He was stiff and kept his eyes on the tv. You rolled your eyes at him, pulling at his shirt more and kissing his face over and over.

You made exaggerated kissing noises each time and eventually he started to laugh.

“Alright, alright.” He caught your lips with his when you went in to kiss his face a final time. He kissed you deeply, his hands cupping your face then tangling into your hair. He broke the kiss with a stern look. He smoothed his hand over your stomach, feeling his way down until he pressed his palm in between your legs, making you wince as you were still sensitive. “Jav-..”

“Steve talked to you then?” He said, cutting you off. He watched your expression change from being slightly uncomfortable to staring daggers at him. He was trying to make a point.

“Yes.” You tried to say flatly, but it came out as more of a groan.

“Good.”

He moved his hand from you and wound his arm around your waist, pulling you closer into him. He pressed his face against your neck and let a few kisses there before you heard a low grumble that sounded a lot like a ‘sorry’.

“You're an ass.”

“I know.” You felt him smile against you and you couldn't help but smile as well.

[infernalodie]

𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 || 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

“𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯' 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯' 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶“

Inspo: Mac Miller - Cinderella

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!reader

Summary: Ellie could barely recognize you when you top her.

Warnings: Just smut

Part Two

Words 1300

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

“Y/n, if you don’t untie me, I’m going to poison your next meal!”

Ellie could only hear your laugh of amusement from the bathroom. The door shut, only building the dread you had ambushed her with the moment she got off her patrol. You had managed to get her to your guys’ bedroom where you distracted her just enough that you could tie her to the bed posts. She was just more confused by the simple fact that she didn’t know how she couldn’t see through your hidden agenda and innocence.

Now, she was left bare, clothes long discarded and cut off by you using her switchblade. Wrists tied to the bed posts with no way to cover up her body from the cold that seeped through the cracks of the cabin. An everlasting wonder of what you just had planned next for now that she was left to be used as you saw fit now that the roles were reversed.

Grunts left Ellie as she tugged on the fabric holding her wrists above her head. Legs folded together to keep some heat around her dripping core that ached. She wouldn’t lie, she was impressed and incredibly turned on by your dedication to this master plan. Not at all was happy about it, but she sure as hell was proud that you had the gall to even decide to do this.

Her attempts at freedom were put on hold when she heard the bathroom door lock turn and then the door open. And there she found you, wearing one of her shirts that were way too big for you and that sinful harness around your waist with one of the biggest silicone pieces she uses to punish you. The sight alone was horror fuel considering you had never dominated a girl in your life and you didn’t know half of the shit you were doing.

Yet, she still found it surprisingly sexy seeing you like this.

“Are you done being annoying?” You inquired, walking over and climbing onto the bed.

“Y/n, I am serious,” Ellie persisted. “Let me out or I swear the punishment will be worse than just a rough fuck.”

The threat, that you could come true, only made you grin in amusement. But your only response to it was you forcing her legs apart and slapping her dripping core. A cry fell from Ellie’s lips as you sat between her parted legs. Lips pouting mockingly towards the girl who attempted to gain control of her rapid breaths from the shot of ecstasy. “Crazy how the power dynamic changes, huh?” You mocked. “All talk, but seriously no bite.”

“I’ll fucking show you no-”

You pressed the tip of the fake cock passed her entrance. Eliciting a guttural moan from Ellie as she threw her head back. “I’m going to ask you this again. Are you done being annoying?”

Ellie couldn’t lie to herself anymore. You were a completely different person when you had that strap on. Because yes, the power dynamic changes, but she never expected you to be capable of this. Whoever you got pointers from was going to seriously pay when Ellie got her hands on them. Nonetheless, you had the girl panting and holding her tongue from asking for more. She wouldn’t satisfy you with that, but she did hum to your question.

A satisfied smile formed on your lips as let your hands grasp her smooth hips. The initial cold touch sends a shiver down Ellie’s body as you slowly push the tip of the cock into her entrance. She couldn’t contain the hiss from the stretch as you rubbed circles into her waist. Doing everything Dina and Jesse had told you to do, not only that but using what you had picked up on every time Ellie and you had sex.

“You have to answer me, baby,” you cooed in a rather patronizing tone that left Ellie’s face flushed in embarrassment at how easily you were breaking her down. “C’mon. You can use that pretty mouth of yours, right?”

“Fuck you.”

You groaned in annoyance, shoving your fingers between her lips. Ellie gagged at the sudden intrusion, eyes wide as you slowly thrust your fingers into her mouth. “You wanna know something?” Your lips slightly parted, watching Ellie reluctantly obey and start sucking on your tongue. Groaning at the feeling of her tongue swirling between and around your digits as you pressed down on her slick tongue. “That mouth is the best and worst thing about you.”

Ellie’s eyes rolled back at the sudden and wide stretch of you thrusting the cock deep into her. Her arms attempted to tug free, but you continued to fuck her mercilessly. Your lips had formed a smirk as you watched your girlfriend moan and hiss in pain from the lack of preparation.

“Doesn’t feel nice, huh?” You asked, fingers hitting the back of her throat and causing her to gag. “This is how I feel every time you are frustrated and fuck me. Only right you get a taste of your own medicine, right?”

At this point, choked and muffled cries fell from Ellie’s lips as she was a babbling mess. Somewhere between uncomfortable and content with the roughness and beautiful thrusts and attitude you mixed all together. Not once had she ever been on the receiving end of a strap. So, this was as new as it was going to get and would likely be her worst experience. Because she had a feeling that after tonight, you would start getting the itch sooner or later.

Grabbing at her hips, you groaned at the way Ellie’s fresh canal took the strap with ease. Far easier than you had expected when coming up with the plan. And the way she whined out like some puppy, you didn’t care how hard or how mean you were to her, she was practically begging for this shit.

“You fuckin’ like that, Ellie?” You questioned, hips slamming against hers with the consecutive loud clapping of skin filling the room. “How does it feel to be my little toy, baby girl?”

“F-Fuck me, Y/n. Oh, fuck yes.” Her panted-out words were choked and nearly incoherent to the multiple sounds filling the space around her. But you heard enough that you wrapped a hand around her throat, fingers squeezing on the sides as you used the other to press her right thigh down and swing your leg over.

Keeping the strap inside, you slowly thrust the cock deeper into the girl, causing her to moan out before your pace had quickened. The repetitive sound of flesh slapping together becomes continuous. “You asked for it, babe,” you panted out with a chuckle. “I am only providing for my favourite girl.”

Again, Ellie was a complete fucked out mess as the leather of the strap bumped and rubbed harshly against her abused clit. Your newfound position only allowed you to reach parts inside her that didn’t even seem possible. And your pace was unforgiving, to say the least. You were fucking her like you were in some type of heat.

And when Ellie finally met her climax, you didn’t stop. Nothing stopped you, even when she begged and pleaded with tears in her eyes. “Y/n, p-please. ‘s too much.”

You could only smile in amusement, eyes heavy as you continued to pound the false cock into her quivering hole. Watching her body flinch and twitch under the harsh thrusts. She was so beautiful like this. The sight alone only had you thinking of all the ways you were going to fuck her tonight.

Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to her cheek, grinning as she moaned and whined under your stimulation. “I am sure training you won’t take too long, baby.”

[eleanorblythe]

Romantic Homicide - Anton Chigurh x Original Female Character - Chapter 1

You can use this as an Anton/reader one shot as well if you like as I haven’t given her a name.

I blame and every one of you whores for making me realise people were as thirsty for Anton as I was. It’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything, but Anton seemed like a challenge so I wanted to have a go.

Enjoy and let me know if you have any feedback or ideas. I’m not sure yet how long I want this series to be!

Title finally decided from the song of the same name by d4vd

Also on Ao3 with author notes and translations - here

It was the scraping of a chair that woke her. Or was it the clinking or smashing of a glass against a dull surface? Either way, it was enough to stir her from her dreamless sleep.

She started to turn over in her bed towards the bedroom door only to freeze part way through the motion, waiting for any further sounds. She heard none. Regardless she shifted over to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed and took out the pistol that lay there.

There was a small click as she took out the cartridge and check there were bullets to discharge should the need arise. And slowly crept out of bed. She briefly considered if she should wear a cover up over her nightgown, it was, for all intents and purposes, inappropriate for anyone but intimate company, but she rationalised that should she need to run, or even fight, it would offer her the most manoeuvrability.

She took the safety off the gun and opened the door, thankful for the lack of any creaking or groaning. She liked this house. Had spent a small fortune on this house. It was clean and modern. She certainly hoped she wouldn’t have to ruin her carefully curated world with bullet holes or blood and brain matter.

She walked down the darkened hallway, sinking her toes into the lush carpet as a way of grounding herself and enjoying the sensations. Then she spotted it. The faint light coming from the dining room. Her jaw clenched, remembering the sound of the knocked over glass that awoke her. She wasn’t sure of which she was more angry; that someone had the gall to break into her home or someone had the gall to help themselves and then break one of her expensive pieces of glassware.

Steeling herself she peered around the corner and was met with…an odd sight.

The dining room table had various medical supplies spilled out from a brown grocery bag. There was a rocks glass that had indeed been broken next to a decanter that had, not an insignificant, amount of alcohol decanted from it. Sharp medical tools glinted under the light of the small table lamp that had been placed in the middle of the table, acting as the singular surgical spotlight in this makeshift operating theatre. The intruder was hunched over picking something out of another grocery bag at their feet. She could make out the top of a dark bob haircut and as the intruder turned back to the dining table, the shadowed, but unmistakable profile of a man that not many people ever have the chance to live long enough to remember.

She had made up her mind. She pulled the hammer back, which was almost as loud as an actual gunshot in the complete stillness of the house. The intruder’s eyes instantly became more alert and moved to the area in which the sound originated. However having a bright light shining directly into his face had him somewhat at a disadvantage.

“What are you doing here?”

She spotted his posture relax slightly, recognising her voice. She flipped the main light switch on, while maintaining eye contact and more importantly never lowering her gun.

His eyes immediately found hers after adjusting to the change in light sources. He made no move to stand or say anything else other than stare. Perhaps he was aware that her question was not really a question at all and more of a statement of indignation. The corner of his mouth twitched a little, she had always had that fire in her. Although looking at her now…

He took the time to scan over her. Her eyes were cold, almost glacial, in keeping with the rest of her current stern and cool expression and demeanour. This was somewhat unusual, but there was always ice in those veins when there needed to be, to ensure her survival.

He continued his scan over the rest of her. She had changed her hair again. The perfectly manicured fingernails wrapped around his pistol. He had wondered where he had left it. It was then when he finally noticed what she was wearing. Or lack thereof. A chemise. Barely covering that most secret part of her. Indigo. Silk. Expensive. Like everything else in this house.

It certainly answered the question as to whether she was receiving the money he was regularly sending. It was clear she was spending it.

She sighed as he watched her. Her arm must have been aching by now, but he could spot not just in her arms, but everywhere, the subtle definition of muscle peaking out through her skin. Evidently she had kept up with her training. She shifted slightly on her feet and in doing so one of the straps of her nightgown slid off her shoulder coming dangerously close to revealing…

She remained undeterred though and continued to stare him down as he finished scanning, or rather ogling, the rest of her. When he finally met her eye again she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. An expression that suggested it was time for him to say something.

“That’s my gun.” was the response he finally went for.

She hummed quietly, eyes flitting down to the shining metal in her hands briefly before returning to his gaze. She made no effort to lower the weapon.

“How did you get in?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I would. I had the locks changed, so you must have broken something…else,” Her nostrils flared and her eyes flitted to the broken rocks glass.

“Your bathroom window was open,” He said simply.

“Y-you went through the bathroom window?” She couldn’t help but balk, for he was a very large man and the window; a very small one.

“Yes.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. What else could he have meant by his previous statement?

She hummed again. Her slightly furrowed brow, the only sign she was still processing the possibility of such a feat. With tension eased somewhat, she allowed herself to scan over every inch of him. Or rather she would have had she not spotted something jarring and shockingly white against the darkness of Anton’s shirt.

“What is that?” Already knowing exactly what it was.

“You now understand why I came here?” He responded.

“No. Last I heard you were in Texas.”

“Yes.”

“That’s hours from here. You mean to tell me you drove all the way here to treat your broken arm?”

“Yes.”

This time she did lower the gun. Slightly. She stared incredulously then shook her head.

“Do you expect me to help you?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

She nodded and finally set the gun down on the dining room table. She began hastily gathering the pile of medical supplies and stuffing them back into the bag before walking with much purpose towards another room. Anton could only watch her with mild confusion and annoyance. She opened the door to a bathroom, turned on the overhead light and unceremoniously dumped the entire contents of the brown bag into the sink.

“Yes we do. Do your business in here. I will not have you bleeding over my new furniture. You will clean up when you’re finished. Including that.” She made one final glare to the broken glass still resting on the otherwise pristine dining room table before collecting the pistol and hastily retreating back to her bedroom. Leaving Anton exactly where she found him.

As she returned the pistol to the bedside table drawer she could hear the heavy footsteps of Anton in his cowboy boots slowly moving across the living room and eventually the clacking of heels against ceramic tile in the bathroom. She thought she could hear a limp in the movements, she would have to check later. For now all she wanted to do was fall back into her relatively blissful sleep.

It was a nice thought anyway.

After a time, she became aware of a presence in her doorway. She turned around to see Anton, as tall and as imposing as ever, but she could see the weariness had seeped into every pore, his skin was clammy, but at the very least the bone was back inside of his body now. She could admire his strength and resilience, she hadn’t heard so much as a whisper from the bathroom. What incredible pain he must be in.

Pity.

She sat up and once again allowed the straps of her chemise to fall from her shoulders. She, contemplated for a moment…but no.

“Fixed?”

He grunted. He shifted his weight from his left leg to his right. Ah, so that accounts for the limp. A bullet wound, one would assume.

“As much as it can be.”

“You can always call on Andrews tomorrow, he’ll be able to set it properly.” Doing her best to sound unbothered.

He grunts again and makes a move to step into the bedroom.

“I don’t think so.”

He stops dead in his tracks and levels a look at her.

“There’s a spare bedroom down the hall. You’ll go there.”

He opened his mouth to say something more but she had already turned over in her bed, with her back to him and thrown the covers back over herself.

Well. That was as a definitive an answer as there was ever going to be.

Anton slowly made his way to the opposite end of the hall and opened the door to find a half decorated room with sheets draped over most of the furniture and on the bed, a multitude of boxes. Mostly, Anton noted, containing his personal items. It took him a fair amount of time to be able to clear the bed until ultimately he resolved to sleep on top of the covers in his current clothing as he felt the exhaustion and pain finally win out over his body.

He briefly mused on the peculiar expression or saying to do with happy wives or something of that nature, before sleep came to him like a weighted blanket.

[witch-and-her-witcher]

eluzriel | E | essentially pwp but there's some espionage and getting together, rotating POVs

There are secrets Elain's lovers have been keeping from the rest of the Night Court, but some truths Elain simply didn't disclose that come to light during her first intercontinental spy mission to Rask - such as reaching a decision about maintaining casual relationships separately, or perhaps committing to something bigger.

When both Azriel and Lucien are sent after Elain to ensure her safety, everything comes out in the open.

ao3 | chapters 10-12/16

For @polyacotarweek. Thank you @popjunkie42 and @climbthemountain2020 for betaing!!! <3

preview under cut

Curiosity has seized control of any fractal of hesitation Lucien had held on to before Elain had stepped into the room. There’s little else he can think about other than the pulsing in his cock, the throbbing demand to get Azriel naked, spread eagle on the bed and devour him whole.

Well, other than the constant chant in the back of his mind: she loves me, she loves me, she loves me!

But that will be a sweet buzz that will keep giving every time he recalls Elain’s earnest confession of her feelings for him. Even if combined with her love for Azriel, Lucien can die today a satisfied male knowing Elain Archeron loves him. The declaration he has waited years to hear. 

And if she feels the need to declare it right alongside her love for this male … Who is he to question her? To invalidate her feelings for both of them? It may be the most fae decision she’s ever made, in fact, refusing to settle for anything less than exactly what she wants.

Azriel seems to have decided the same.

Smart male.

Besides, Lucien can smell Azriel’s arousal the same as his own and Elain’s in this room. If he were truly against moving forward in this little experiment, he wouldn’t smell like a horny teenager ever since Lucien had stuck his thumb into the heat of his mouth.

Lucien’s lips curl in a challenging smirk and he uses his grip on Azriel’s chin to tilt his head upwards, exposing the strong column of his neck and the whorls of tattoos licking above his collar. “Where should I begin with you, Azriel? I have so many ideas, so many ways I want to test your willingness.”

In answer, Azriel’s lips close around Lucien’s thumb. That devilish tongue Lucien has kept clamped down swirls and Azriel’s cheeks hollow as he sucks, dragging the pad of Lucien’s thumb down his tongue with only the briefest scrape of his sharp canines catching on the simple gold ring he’s wearing.

The Illyrian’s eyes narrow in challenge.

Game on.

“You think you could handle that?” Lucien purrs, reaching down to take Azriel’s hand in his own and presses Azriel’s palm into his heavy erection. He slides his gaze to the side. “El, do you think our stoic Azriel can take more than the tip of my cock in his pretty mouth? Even you, my love, required training… and you’re a natural with a cock.”

Elain’s lips are already parted, breaths coming out in whispered pants as her breasts heave against the fabric of her overcoat with each swelling inhale. “At least half,” she exhales, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. Then her delicate hand is trailing along the exposed, vulnerable length of the Illyrian’s throat “Yes. He’ll be able to take at least half, and if he can relax … All of it, I’m certain. He’s such a good boy when he chooses.”

Lucien cocks his head curiously. “Do you feel like being a good boy for me, Azriel? Should I fuck your mouth and see if your throat is accommodating as well?”

Cold flames ignite in Azriel’s sharp gaze. He releases Lucien’s finger with a wet ‘pop.’ “If I’m supposed to quit thinking, then you have to quit talking so damn much. All words, not enough action.”

The gall of this male. 

A feral growl grows in Lucien’s chest and he doesn’t bother to respond, instead surging forward to claim Azriel’s mouth with his own. Their teeth clash, but he quickly gets the upper hand and has Azriel sucking his tongue needily while backing him towards the bed. If the way he suckles on his tongue is any indication how he’ll take his cock, Lucien is afraid he won’t last very long. 

Fire burns through his veins.

How often has he gotten off, picturing Elain with the warrior of darkness and mystery … It should stir a fierce jealousy in him, but it isn’t the same as that random male touching his mate earlier today. It’s Azriel, and Lucien knows that Elain is safe with him, taken care of, cherished. Whether Azriel can admit to it or not, his desperate love for Elain is clear.

As well as the doubt of his own self-worth.

That just won’t do. 

read more

[kalgalen]

Open letter to my mother

(or, a rebuttal to the 1k email my mom sent me about my upcoming transition. Tw: transphobia, self-harm)

First, and I say this will all the love in the word (and an healthy dose of disbelief): what the fuck is wrong with cis people?

I'm gonna skip right over the fact that you had the gall to call this a "text analysis" when you actually dedicated only one paragraph to actually describing the text I got published and used the rest to utterly dismiss my community and I. That disappointment, though, is nothing compared to the anger and grief that the rest of your email has awaken in me.

You talk about respect, but you refuse to respect my decision to make my own body more comfortable to me. Worse than that, you disrespect my friends by deciding you get to be the judge determining who conforms to your outdated ideas on gender enough to be allowed to transition. How dare you?

Speaking of daring, how dare you imply that we, the LGBTQIA community, need to be more tolerant and inclusive of people who don't understand us? Do you realize that in many cases it means they want our death? You're a white woman. You've never had to deal with a huge portion of the population wanting you to stop existing, or at least to stop "putting your identity in everyone's faces" - aka, essentially, to (hope you guessed it) stop existing. I'm not asking for understanding from every single old crusty conservative guy, just that they leave us the fuck alone.

You make wild assumptions about me in your email. Do you really think my therapist helped me accept myself? I only came out to her last year when I decided to medically transition, because I was finally confident in my ability to make that choice. We had never talked about gender before. Why would you want to take that away from me? Why would that "self-respect" you're talking about entail me going back on my steps? Why can't it be about me embracing my identity, making my body mine in a way that doesn't involve self-harming?

On that subject, you've never shown concern when I was cutting into my arms on the daily. You acknowledged it, sure, but what did you do except demand that I stop? You have no right to criticize my choice of changing my body. You lost it long ago.

You encouraged me to get a breast reduction last year when I started the process of wanting to transition. You still thought I was cis then, but since it was a surgery for cis people, it was fine and dandy. Now that I want to cut it all off so I don't have to deal with binders anymore (which are indeed quite dangerous for the person wearing them, not to mention uncomfortable) you believe you can go against that. You have to see how irrational that is.

You talk about detransitioners but I'm willing to bet you haven't done more research past "some people regret transitioning." Do you know most people stop transitioning because of transphobia? You, cis people, are killing us one way or another.

Why do you fucking think you can explain gender to me. "We all have a part of masculinity and femininity inside of us" yeah no kidding?? You're telling that to a nonbinary person, that's the whole concept (although not only - but I won't get into it since it'll just confuse you more.) You dare "explaining" to me what androgynity is and why it would "fit me more". You think your couple of hours of half-assed research are enough to compare with my lived experience? With my discussions with like-minded people? With decades of self-determination by a community that is older than you? Also fuck you for implying I've only decided to call myself nonbinary because it's "fun". You don't know anything.

You ask me if sexuality is involved in choosing a gender - and it might be for some but newsflash, trans gay people exist. Additionally, I am asexual - not that you bothered to do research about that. "Before loving a sex we love a way to be, a philosophy, a way to think" fuck off I've known that since I was old enough to fall in love.

Anyways. You'll never read this, because you would only think I'm throwing a tantrum - because you're so sure you're right, and not ready to listen. Whatever, I don't give a shit. I will try and answer your concerns later when I'm not so pissed off, but for the moment I cannot help you.

Lovingly, your child.

[fandomtherapy44]

Klaus x reader chapter 6 Bloodletting

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Marshall the younger sister of Hayley Marshall. Side note I love Hayley one of my favorite characters. Basically Y/n will be pregnant instead of Hayley and I will be changing some things up but then that it should stay pretty close to the series. I hope you enjoy the story! Also, if you like I have a Castiel x reader

Paring: Klaus x reader

Word count: 3,238

Warnings: Some language, Typical the Originals violence, Spoilers for season one of The Originals, Pregnancy, Refence to sex

I got the divder from

saradika

Chapter 6: Bloodletting

There were about forty vampires in the courtyard at the compound of Marcel Gerad of squaring up to fight to get a chance to get a special ring. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Fight Night! And, the first rule of Fight Night is: the vampire left standing at the end of the night is one step closer to the inner circle, and one of these--[He holds up the hand on which he wears his ring]-- a daylight ring. If you can impress me with a little ultra-violence, you too can enjoy the warmth of the sun on your face. All you got to do is kick a little ass. Here we go!”

A woman and man step up. Of course, the women won victoriously. But not a moment later her neck was snapped by Klaus. Elijah and Hayley in tow. "Good evening! I'd like a word.” “What do you think you're doing?” Marcel was pissed that Klaus was once again stepping on his throne. “It appears that we've interrupted a collection of filthy amateurs! We've come here for the girl. Give her to us, or we kill everyone here... starting with you.” Elijah was always so methodical with his words.

“You two got a lot of nerve, coming into my home and making demands. And who is she?” He pointed out Hayley. “I'm about to kick your-” She tried to walk forward but was pulled back by Elijah. “Your home, is it?” Klaus has a sarcastic smile. “The girl! I will not ask again.” “I assume you're talking about Y/n? Yea high, H/c, sweet attitude? Who is she, anyway?”

“She's an old friend. You know how sentimental I am about old friends.” “Well, I ain't got her. And before you start whining, I did pay her a little visit earlier tonight. I was feeling nostalgic, so I took a trip out to the plantation where I used to be a slave. And, imagine my surprise when I realized that the Original family of vampires had taken up residence. Your girl, Y/n, answered the door, we exchanged hellos, and that was it. You don't believe me? Look around. Hell, I'll even help you find her. But the question that I'd ask is: if Y/n isn't here, then where is she?” 

POV: (Y/N)

I wake up and all I smell is dirty socks and all I see is the back of SUV window. I kick up at the window in some hope to somehow knock it out and climb out. The driver pulls over and gets out and opens the back. I kick him and he blocks me. “Seriously?” “Tyler?” I had not seen him for over like six months at this point. “You don't wanna fight me, Y/n. You know you can't beat a hybrid.” He zip-locks my ankles and picks me up. “AHHH! Let me go you asshole!” “Shut up!”

Tyler had brought me to the backwaters of the bayou of this small shack next to the water. It would be prettier if I wasn't currently being held against my will. “Tyler why the Hell am I here?” He doesn’t answer, instead he brings out a pocketknife. “Ok, geese! I won't ask again.” He then cuts my ankle zip locks. “This is just in case.” He held the knife up, the gall of him. “Hey, aren't you the one you knocked me out in my backyard!?” “It's not your backyard, it's Klaus'! You're shacked up in that mansion with that psycho. A long way from the sweet girl I've met in the Appalachians, helping other werewolves.”

“Tyler, I am still the same girl, just a couple of things have changed.” “You mean that you're pregnant? A hybrid baby, yeah, I know all about it. I've been roaming around the Bayou, asking questions. Let me tell you what I learned! [He pulled down my sweater sleeve to show my birthmark on my shoulder] This crescent birthmark means you come from a big-shot family. Some kind of royalty for the werewolves of this region. And right here-- [He gestured around him]-- this is all that's left of them.”

I look around and see tents that are barely being held together by worn-down rope. “My family is out here?” At that moment I see a blond woman hiding by the trees. “HEY HELP!” I held my arms up. She ran away as soon as I did. “They can't help you! They're in the woods, hiding, because they were persecuted for decades by vampires.” Of course, those poor people, this man walks up. “Is that her?” “Excuse me!?” “Yeah, Dwayne. Get her inside.” Dwayne comes and picks me up like I was a bag of air. He must be a werewolf too or he hits the gym every day. “Tyler? Tyler!” 

Back at the compound, Sabine was doing a locator spell to find Y/n while Hayley, Elijah, and Klaus were crowding around. “She's in the backcountry. Way up past Houma, deep in the Bayou.” “Bayou?” Hayley questioned. “There are stories of exiled werewolves, encampments. If Y/n went out that far, chances are she went to find them.” “Clearly, she hopes to make the acquaintance of more like herself. I suppose our company wasn't good enough for her.” Klaus quipped. “No, Y/n is not like that. She would at least tell me, if she's there she's not there by choice.” Klaus looks at Hayley with the slightest bit of worry.

The three of them had traveled to the Bayou. “We should head south towards the water.” Elijah pointed out. “You seem quite determined to find the littlest wolf.” Klaus commented. Hayley was just trying to sense her sister. “If I'm moving too fast for you, Niklaus, you're welcome to wait in the car. Do be certain to leave the windows down.” “ Ah, so I've touched a nerve? You've begun to admire her sister. Perhaps that's why you've been barking orders since your return, hoping to impress Hayley by assuming the role of family patriarch.” she had walked enough away that she couldn't hear them.

“If you're going to insist on treating her like a walking incubator, then that's your mistake.” “I do not see her as a-” Klaus stopped. “Have you found her scent?” They walk over to the SUV so does Hayley. “No, but I found someone else's. This vehicle reeks of someone I thought I was rid of... Tyler Lockwood.” “Tyler? why the Hell would he care to kidnap Y/n.” Hayley said. “He wants revenge because I went after his girl.” “Really over a high school girlfriend?” “Why do I suspect this is the least of your offenses?” “Well, there was this business with his mum…”

“Great so my sister is going to die now because of you! She’s here because of you!” “He needed to be taught a lesson!” “And what lesson will you be taught, Niklaus, if he retaliates by harming Y/n?” “So, you do care about her. Well, go on, then. Have at it, brother. Save her. Claim what spoils you can. I've sampled what she has to offer and let me tell you, she is exquisite–” Hayley slapped Klaus. “Don't you ever talk about her like that again!” She goes to keep searching but stops. “Oh, and Klaus if she is hurt or worse I will find some way to kill you.” With that, she walks, and Elijah follows.

POV (Y/n)

I am brought into the shack and zip-tied to some type of iron oven aka not easy to pick up. Might as well ask. “Tyler, there's been two wolves watching Hayley and me lately. Protecting us, like they instinctively know that we are part of their pack. You're a hybrid, you can turn into a wolf whenever you want... Was one of them you?” He shakes his head no. “No, but you're right-- only hybrids can control when they change. And I'm the only one left, besides Klaus. Which is why we're here.” “Whatever you think you're doing, you know that whole Original family has made some sort of pact, or something, to keep me and the baby safe. So, if you hurt me, they'll kill you. Believe it or not I don't want to see you die Tyler.”

“Of course, the nice, sweet Y/n wouldn't want that but then again you conspired to help kill twelve hybrids. How did you even trigger your curse if you do not believe in killing huh? I'm generally curious.” He got close and up in my face. “An accident the same as you.” I looked to the side. “I don't believe you but that's not why we are here, Dwayne? You ready for this?” Dwayne looked really hopped on whatever he was about to do.

“Let's do it.” Tyler goes to dig out a large syringe. “What are you doing?” I asked with fear flooding my body. Dwayne holds me down. “Tyler, please. NO! Tyler!” “Klaus destroyed everything good in my life! So, I'm gonna take away the thing he wants most!” He jammed it into my stomach. “AHH!” I breathed heavily. As I see it leave my body it’s filled with my baby’s blood. Tyler goes and injects it in Dwayne and then snaps his neck. 

I just stare at the dead body now. “Don't get all judgy! Dwayne knew what he was getting into. He volunteered!” “To get killed!? How in the hell does make any sense?” “Dwayne is a werewolf who died with your blood in his system. The same blood you share with your hybrid baby.” I furred my eyebrows in confusion. “You're trying to turn him into a hybrid? That's impossible!” “I've been running with wolf packs all over the country. One of them was tight with a witch. She had nightmare visions about your baby and how Klaus could use its blood to make an army of hybrid slaves.” I breathed deeply in to control my anger.

“That’s enough from everyone! I don't care what anyone says about my baby it’s just that, my kid and if you keep on making threats on it, Klaus will be the last person to worry about.” “That’s cute and all but that's where Dwayne comes in. You see, he was happy to be the test case. If you haven't noticed, these people don't have much to live for. They'd all welcome the chance to become the superior species. Trouble is, all hybrids are sired to Klaus. They follow his every move. [He grabs a knife from his bag and sets it on the table] No way I let that happen.”

“How can you be so sure Klaus knows what the baby's blood will do?” “What do you think? Klaus Mikaelson, killer of men, women, and puppies, all of a sudden wants to be a daddy? Or, he's got an ulterior motive. Hybrids can walk in the sun. Their bite is lethal to vampires. They'll take over New Orleans by the end of the week. And you know what's going to stop Klaus then? Nothing.” Could it be true all this time? Suddenly Dwanye wakes up breathing a lot.

"You're gonna have to feed on her.” Dwayne walks over to me. “What? No! Ahhhhh!” He bites in my neck and it hurts like all Hell. He freaks out and runs out and Tyler goes after him. In the freak out he broke a chair I’m able to reach and grab a broken sharp leg. Tyler walks back in.“It worked, didn't it? He's a hybrid.” “If Klaus gets a hold of you, if he gets that kid? He wins.” He picks up the knife. “Maybe we can run if those are his attentions.”  “He'll find you, he'll take your kid away, and he'll make more hybrid monsters. Slaves who do everything he says.” “Please murder is not the answer, Tyler You're not like this.”

He walks closer and I stab him in the leg with the wood. “That was stupid!” He starts again but Dwayne walks in. “Get away from her!” “What do you care?” “I said get away!” “You got what you wanted, now get lost!” “Dwayne, he's gonna kill me! And he's gonna kill you, too! He said that hybrids are too dangerous to live! You need to stop him!” Dwane attacks Tyler and I'm able to grab the knife and cut my binds and I run like never before.

I ran behind a tree hearing footsteps get closer and I jumped out and slide kicked him to the ground and pounced and almost daggered him until I realized it was Elijah. “Elijah I am so sorry! I thought-” I helped him stand up. "You thought I was Tyler, and here I thought you were in danger. It appears I was mistaken.” “Y/N!? Y/N!” It was Hayley. “Over here!” She runs over straight into my arms. “Oh thank God are you ok!? The baby!?” “Yes both of us are fine, a little sweat and a couple of scratches. Nothing I can't live through.” “Let's go!” She tugs on my arm. “Wait guys there's something you need to know about the baby.”

“Klaus must have known, that's the only explanation! He could care less about the baby. He just wants her to be born so he can use her to make more sired hybrids.” Hayley was pissed from what I told them and I don't blame her. “Look, we don't know if Klaus knew.” “Oh like Hell he didn't, he's Klaus !” “We can talk about this later after I take you two home.” Elijah of course is trying to break the tension. “Are you serious? Home to what?” Hayley replied back in her snappy sarcasm.

“Look, regardless of my brother's intentions, mine remain the same. I said that I would protect you and your sister, even, if need be, from Klaus himself.”  “Guy’s let’s talk about this.” “What’s there to talk about Y/n! And Elijah I can take care of myself. I've done it for a long time.” She walks away. And I am left to question just about everything at this point but especially Klaus.

We had walked back to the shack where Klaus was standing. He had blood on his shirt in the middle. He saw me and looked like he wanted to run to me, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked between Elijah and I and started to think things that weren't true. “There you are! I see you've found our wandering stray. Perhaps you could shed some light on the situation. This-- [kicks the body over] -- appears to be a hybrid.” He pointed to me wondering why there was even a hybrid in the first place. “His name was Dwayne.” I answered kind of hesitating because I knew the bomb that was about to explode.

“Well, whoever it was, I didn't sire him. Any idea how that's possible?” Hayley gets pissed and jumps up to defend me. “[ She stomps toward him] As if you didn't know!” “Hayley please!” I pleaded to her. Elijah looked to me to make sure I was ok. And Klaus saw. “Ahhh, well, aren't you two fast friends? Oh, come on, then. What kind of horrible accusation have you conspired to levy against me?” Here comes the boom. “Guys let’s talk-” Elijah started to talk.

“Tyler Lockwood brought Y/n here to test a theory. [Klaus nods at him to continue] That the blood of her child could be used to sire hybrids. He claims that you knew that. Furthermore, that you intended to use this knowledge to build an army.” Klaus looked hurt and with that I knew that he did not know about the blood I knew because I've had the same look before. “And, of course, you assume it's true. I mean, why else would I show interest in my own flesh and blood? A heartbroken little crybaby points his finger at me, and my own brother falls in line, eager to believe it! How quickly you believe the worst, especially when it comes from her.” Klaus pointed at Hayley.

“Oh, spare me your indignation. When have you ever demonstrated any kind of concern towards Y/n or her child and sister, beyond your own selfish pursuits? And what was it you once said to me? [He impersonates Klaus] "Every king needs an heir!"” “My big brother. So, you doubt my intentions? Well, I can't say I'm surprised, standing next to the noble Elijah, how can I be anything but the lesser brother? A liar, a manipulator, a bastard.” My heart broke. “Klaus wait please-” I tried to soften this conversation after that because I knew how much pain that phrase brought to Klaus even more when he said it himself.

“And you, of course you agree with them I mean why would the big bad wolf be interested in his own blood. [He got closer to me] I knew you never would want to have a child with me.” “Brother, if–” Elijah was hurt too. “interrupts] You've said all that needs to be said, brother. [He steps back a few steps and holds his arms out in defeat] I'll play the role I've been given.” He speeds towards Elijah and bites him with his venom. Hayley and I are both shocked.

“You three enjoy each other's company. You'll have much to bond over, once the hallucinations and dementia set in. Consider that bite to be my parting gift to the three of you.” Before I even have a chance to say his name he speeds away. Hayley and I turn to Elijah to get him to the shack.

About an hour later Elijah was on the old cot and Hayley and I were looking through old photos to see if we could find any hint towards our family. Elijah gets up to help us look. “You don't have to help us. We can dig through the werewolf antique show on our own. Besides-- [She looks at his neck wound] -- shouldn't you put some kind of ointment or something on that?” Hayley said to him concerned. “The bite won't kill me. Like Niklaus himself, it's more of a nuisance than anything.” I didn’t say anything, but I got mad at that moment. So before I got more mad, I went outside to get air. The pregnancy definitely did not help being hot.

Going outside I looked around and I finally had a chance to fully appreciate the beauty of everything like the Bayou water with the sun reflecting off of it. And the crickets making their own song. The fresh smell of no smog and instead weed flowers having a sweet nectar hanging in the air. Sometimes being a werewolf has its upsides. I couldn't wait to share this with our daughter. When I walked a little more on the deck my feet kicked into something it was big bible. I picked it up and flipped through it.

“Hayley, get out here!” Both of them came out. “What is it?” I held it and flipped through to the page that was saved. “A Bible, with a family history that goes back generations.” “What are these names? Who is Andrea and Elizabeth?” Elijah asked. “I think we are... those are the days that we were born.” I said realizing that my family just got a whole lot more intriguing. 

Hey yawl! Hope you enjoyed the story! Sorry it's been a while since I've updated. I wanted to finish my Castiel x reader which the first season is now finished if you want to you can read that. So hopefully I can focus more on these chapters because I love this story so much. This chapter really stirred the pot between Klaus and reader, so I love that. I also hoped that I showed that Y/n could hold her own. I might skip next episode's plot and move on to the next one depends. So look out for the next one! XOXO Gossip girl ;) ;)