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forever-rogue · 5 months

Note

Hello! Could I request something where Eddie is Bi and he’s dating female reader and Eddie used to have a crush on Steve and reader knows and teases him about it such as in the boat where Steve takes off his shirt and throws it at him and reader knows he’s low key freaking out about it and she finds it cute how he reacts. Yk he obviously won’t cheat but he’s reminded of why he had a crush on him, that kind of thing you know?

AN | Okay but Bi!Eddie is canon to me and it would be so fun to tease him about his little crush 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Bi!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.9k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hello handsome,” Eddie practically melted when he heard your sweet voice cut through his thoughts. You walked into the back of his shop, trying not to startle him if he happened to be under a car; luckily you heard him closing a hood before you were greeted with his smile. You weaved your way over to him, all soft and smiley and sugary sweet - a complete contrast to his current environment. You held out an ice cold bottle of water to him, which he eagerly took and started to chug, “figured you could use that today.”

"You're right baby," he closed his bottle and leaned in to give you a wet, minty kiss. You grabbed the front of his coveralls and pulled closer, kissing him again, "you're killing me."

"You've been gone all day," you teased softly, playing with a chocolatey rogue curl that had escaped his bun, "can you really blame a girl for missing her man?"

"Fuck no," he scoffed, "missed you too, baby. You look pretty today."

"You think this looks pretty," you dragged your fingers along the soft fabric of your dress' strap. Eddie was a simple man at the end of the day, and seeing you in a dress sparked some sort of primal urge, "you should see what's underneath."

"You're playing dirty," he groaned, trying to control himself so he didn't get a hard on in the middle of work. He wondered if it was either pretty lingerie or nothing at all. He'd find out soon enough he hoped, "I'm going to get you back for this."

"I hope you do," you patted his chest and gave him a soft, playful little push back, "so -"

"Aha," he sighed dramatically as he often did, "you have an ulterior motive. I should have known."

"Calm down, Edward," you laughed fondly, a sound that seemed to go straight to his heart and made butterflies flutter in his tummy, "its a good thing! I was talking with Steve and Robin today and they suggested we all spend the long holiday weekend at the cabin. What do you think?"

"You've already said yes for us."

"I've already said yes for us," you confirmed sweetly, "I didn't see why not. Unless you can't handle being stuck with your little boyfriend all weekend.”

“Stopppp,” he groaned, cheeks turned a pretty shade of bubblegum pink as tried to pull up his coveralls over his warm face, “I regret ever telling you I had a crush on Steve Harrington.”

“Baby boy, I am not blind,” you pulled the dark blue fabric away from his pretty face, “I know when you’re looking and when you’re looking. I think it’s cute, Eddie. Besides, you have good taste - Steve is a handsome guy.”

“Excusez-moi?” over exaggerated, in a horrible French accent. You loved this absolute dork.

“You didn’t let me finish,” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, “Steve is a handsome guy but you, Eddie Munson, are the handsomest and hottest man alive. My loins burn for you!”

“I…I can’t believe this is how the love of my life, my future wife, and the future mother of my children is acting,” with a hand on his chest, he hung his head and sighed deeply. Meanwhile your heart was rapidly pitter-pattering as your bones felt like jelly at the future wife and mother of my children comment. Eddie, loud and boisterous, had many times declared he was going to marry you and that you’d have all the children you wanted. But hearing it now still felt as electric as the first time.

“I could say the same for you, future husband and father of my children,” but you were all fond smiles and soft eyes, “I’ll let you get back to it. Don’t work too hard, okay?”

“I’ll be home soon,” he reached for your hand and squeezed it gently, “wanna do Chinese for dinner?”

“Hell yeah,” you cheered excitedly, “I’ll call in and order-”

“And I’ll pick up on my way home,” he grinned.

“Excellent teamwork,” you loved him. You really, really loved him, “don’t forget - this weekend at the lake house!”

“Ugh!”

He was still grumbling under his breath as you waved and walked out of the garage. How was he going to survive a weekend with you and Steve in bathing suits? He wasn’t going to, short and simple.

But it would still be fun. Right? Right.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Alright,” Steve Harrington was a natural leader. It was something he’d picked up quickly when he’d begun being everyone’s babysitter. But it was a role that suited him well and he looked so natural standing on the dock in front of the whole gang, arms outstretched as he tried to gather everyone’s attention. You were standing off the right with Eddie, hands entwined and fingers laced together. Robin was square in the middle, Nancy shyly tucked into her side; the newness of their relationship still strong. Jonathan and Argyle rounded out the group along with Chrissy Cunningham. A ragtag group of survivors that had turned to friends to found family.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You knew Eddie was excited to be with everyone but you also knew that he was lowkey freaking out about Steve. Sweet, golden, wonderful Steve that was oblivious to the fact that Eddie had harbored a crush on him for several years before you came along. Steve was his best friend and his former crush, but you were the love of his life. He knew that much, and so did you. It was still just a little fun to tease him.

“Listen up nerds,” Steve looked between all of you as you started to playfully boo him, “this weekend is all about being lazy and having fun. So, don’t drown, remember sunscreen, and if you’re going to have sex keep it down and safe.”

“Hell yeah,” you heard Argyle and Jonathan snickering among themselves as you pressed a kiss to Eddie’s bare shoulder. Your friends were absolutely ridiculous sometimes but loved them all.

“And don’t forget - bonfires at nine o’clock sharp. There will be s’mores and beers,” that had you all excited, “now go and have fun, children!”

Everyone started to scatter as you took Eddie’s hand and started to pull him along to the house. He pretended to huff dramatically as you grinned at him. He looked so good with black shorts and a cut off tank, tattoos on full display, dark ink against pale skin. His mess of curls was pulled into a bun at the stop of his head, a few curls framing his face. He had on a pair of black ray bans and beat up vans on his feet, the pure essence of cool.

“Come on handsome,” naturally he obliged you and let you drag him along, “let’s get changed and go swimming. It’s so hot and the water looks perfect.”

“Did you bring-”

“The red two-piece that has you practically drooling?” you barely managed to get your words out before squealing as Eddie picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, practically running into the house, “Edward! I didn’t even give you an answer!”

“I presume the answer is a big, fat yes?” He opened the door to the room where you would be staying during your trip. You huffed as he gently set you down on the bed before caging you in between his arms and kissing you softly. You leaned into his touch, pressing to pull away from him until you were in desperate need of a fresh breath of air, “baby, baby, baby.”

“The answer to your question is a big fat no,” he rolled on his back and threw his arms out in mock exasperation, “calm down and let me finish.”

“You’re a cruel mistress!”

“I got a whole new bathing suit,” you rolled onto your stomach so you could face him. You reached up and touched his face, tenderly brushing your fingers along his cheek, “and I think you’re going to like it.”

“Sweetheart, you could be wearing a potato sack and you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the entire world,” your entire face softened at his world and you almost melted into a puddle, “and on top of all that, you’ve got the best and biggest heart of all.”

“And great tits-”

“And great tits,” he confirmed as if there was ever any doubt to that, “you’re the whole package baby. I love you.”

“I love you, Eddie,” you took his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “you are the best man. Just so you know.”

He smiled at you, letting out a small wistful little sigh, “before we get too mushy, let’s get changed and get some sun.”

“That sounds excellent, my love.”

Okay. Okay. You hadn't been lying when you'd told Eddie that he would like this bathing suit. Bright pink and looking like it was made for you, fitting just as you liked and showing off all the curves you wanted to. You owned it and that in and of itself made you dangerously sexy. Eddie had to work to make sure he didn't get a hard on in front of everyone; he was glad for the cold water of the lake. He might have been drooling though…that was hard to control when you looked like that.

But - but - it got worse. He didn't think it could get worse than trying to control himself around you but then it did. He wasn't sure whether to curse you, Steve Harrington, or everything out in the universe.

Once he'd calmed down enough and the two of you were playing around in the water, Steve Harrington came out to join you. He was wearing a pair of navy blue swim trunks and nothing else besides a pair of flip flops and sunglasses. He looked good and he knew it.

And so did Eddie. His eyes raked over Steve's lithe, tan figure, which you quickly caught onto. Eddie studied his golden skin, littered with freckles and delicious chest hair. He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat enormous.

You hadn't realize that Steve had come out at first but when Eddie suddenly fell silent you knew something was wrong.

"Babe?" On his back on his float, chest already getting tan from the hot summer sun, was Eddie with his mouth hanging open as he stared straight at the dock. You followed his eyeline and almost laughed out loud when you realized what was going on. He quickly glared at you as you stifled your laugh which turned into a horrible snorting sound, "Edward."

"Sweetheart," he huffed like a child, pretty plush lips pulled into a pout as he looked at you, "affectionately - shut up!"

"You are the least conspicuous person ever! At least try to act like you're not drooling!"

"I am not drool-"

"Hey there."

You grinned at Steve as the boy swam over to you, a lazy smile on his face as he treaded water without effort. You splashed some water at Eddie as he remained silent, only a pained look on his face.

"Hey," he snapped to attention and looked between the two of you, brain overloaded with the amount of attractiveness between the two of you, "looking good, Harrington."

If there had been a wall in front of him, he would have been banging his head already. You snorted in amusement before floating onto your back and slowly swimming away with a wave. You were going to let them have their own moment.

"You too man," Steve had a smile so pretty that it was almost cruel. Eddie returned the grin with what he hoped was an equally lovely one, "being in love looks good on you."

"I-I'm not in love with you," Eddie's voice stammered and shook as he looked at Steve with wide, worried eyes. Steve tossed his head back with laughter. Oh. That wasn't what he was insinuating? Awkward.

"I know that," he reached over and gently tugged on one of Eddie's loose curls, "still hope you've got some love for me though."

"Duh," the two of them exchanged shy smiles, "always."

"Me too," Steve agreed and Eddie's heart started to rattle wildly in his chest, "wanna know a secret, Munson?"

"S-sure."

"It would have been cool if it would have been you," and just like that, Eddie was sure his heart stopped beating. The flow of the river around him seemed so loud and he was trying to convince himself that he was hearing incorrectly. Judging from the look on Steve's face, he hadn't heard incorrectly, "but I think we're on the right path regardless."

“Yeah,” Eddie knew that Steve was already devoted to Chrissy. The two of them clearly shared a deep bond despite only having been dating for a few months. When Eddie first learned that Steve was dating someone new, and then when he realized it was another of his friends, he could admit that some jealousy flared up. It was natural, and that was what you tried to explain to Eddie. Even though the two of you had each other and you both knew that you loved each other, it was a normal human emotion to still feel things for other people, “I agree.”

“And just so you know, you’re the most attractive guy I’ve ever met,” Eddie’s cheeks were already pink from the sun he’d been getting - he wasn’t good at remembering to apply sunscreen despite your insistence - but they just turned about ten shades darker when he heard Steve’s confession. Steve bit his lip as he blushed as well, “and you’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend too, handsome,” Eddie broke the bit of awkward tension that had settled in between the two of them. There was a moment of silence before the two of them broke into a fit of laughter. You’d found Robin and Nancy and the three of you were watching the boys in amusement. You’d all been taking bets on when, if ever, they’d reveal that they had had crushes on the other, “wanna go and grab a beer?”

“Hell yeah,” he agreed as the two of them high-fived. Steve started to swim towards the dock but Eddie paused for a moment as he turned around to wave at you, a goofy smile on his face. You couldn’t help but return the smile, your heart melting with nothing but affection for your man.

He might have been a fool but he was your fool.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late by the time all of you made your way back to your bedrooms. The bonfire had gone late into the night and all of you had been reluctant to go to bed despite the fact that you’d be there all week. This was a much needed trip for everyone.

“Hey,” you let yourself fall into the bed, laughing as Eddie copied you and jumped in next to you, easily putting his arm around you and pulling towards him. You couldn’t help yourself as you pressed kisses to his forehead, cheeks, and nose. He giggled at the soft touch of yourself before sighing softly as you draped yourself over him, “I love you, honey boy.”

“I love you,” he reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, giving your hand a small squeeze, “did you know that Steve had a crush on me?”

“I didn’t know,” you stretched out his arms and pressed kisses to his pale, inked skin, “but I knew. We all did. Wasn’t hard to see the two pretty boys oogling each other all the time.”

“We didn’t…oh,” his face between a range of emotions as he processed what you said. Suddenly it all seemed so obvious, “we did, didn’t we. Well, that would have been good to know a few years ago.”

“Excuse me?” you pretended to be shocked and hurt as you turned floppy in his hold, “are you telling me that you think Steve would have been the love of your life and the two of you would have been together living happily ever after?!”

“No way, princess,” he tenderly put his hand on your cheek and turned your face up to his, “you and I were meant to be. That’s never going to change. You’re it for me, baby.”

“I know,” you offer him a cheeky grin, “I just wanted to hear you say it, my love. Never gets old.”

“Then I’ll continue to remind you,” he pulled you down to his lips and kissed you sweetly, “every single day of my life.”

“Promise?” and yeah. He would do absolutely anything in the world for you.

“Promise,” he replied, voice low and soft, “but I’m still mad at you.”

“Mad at me?! Why?” you huffed and started to tickle him, causing him to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Because it should be illegal to be this good looking,” he huffed, “gonna be the death of me.”

“What about you?” you kissed him slowly, “you’re just as bad. Good thing we’re stuck together.”

“Forever,” he confirmed, “ahh, baby, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Eddie. Lots and lots and then some more, goofy boy.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #bi!eddie #joseph quinn #stranger things

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curseofhecate · 5 months

Text

And you understand now why they lost their mind and fought the wars

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

They are best friends since forever yet they only now realize they're in love with each other.

3.1k

This had been long overdue. But its finally here. I really hope you enjoy it and its not that bad as it is in my head. Also its the first time writting for Lockwood and I have yet to read the books because I'm a slow reader and I'm still stuck at a thausand boy kisses by Tillie Cole. This based off of one of my favourite Taylor Swift songs, You're in love (Taylor's Version).

The tension in the room was unbearable. It wasn't unusual for a case to go horribly wrong but it was a rare occurrence that one of them would get hurt.

Last night's case could be rightfully referred to as a disaster. It had all gone wrong from the very start. The little information they had on the house's history, Lucy forgetting the salt bombs, the client's lie about the number of ghosts they'd have to face,it had all led up to this.

No one had gotten seriously injured but in Lockwood's eyes even a broken wrist was too much of a damage. Especially when it was his best friend that had suffered the injury.

It was well past 3 am now and tiredness was evident among the team. After a difficult case and a trip to the hospital, the last thing the three of them needed was their boss scolding them and pointing out everything they had done wrongly.

Lockwood sighed, waving them off and assured them that they'd continue this conversation in the morning to which the rest of his team groaned. George was the first to go up to his room, complaining about how he needed to shower. Lucy lingered for a bit, finishing the rest of her tea in one big sip before bidding them goodnight and retiring to her room as well.

That left the two best friends alone in the kitchen. Lockwood got up from his seat, only now noticing how his tea had grown cold. He placed the kettle on the stove and opted for chamomile while the girl lit the three candles in the middle of the table. As he placed the two mugs on the table she turned off the lights and sat down next to the boy. "It's hurting my eyes" She shrugged at the boy's confused expression.

Taking a small sip from the steaming mug in front of him, Lockwood turned to look at her again. Only this time his gaze didn't give away irritation or anger. His eyes had softened, the previous flames had died down and in their place was now worry and adoration.

This was a side of Anthony Lockwood few people were privileged to see, and even to them it was a rare sight. It was a look meant just for her, his best friend since he could remember.

His gaze shifted from her eyes to her injured wrist that now had a cast wrapped around it. "Does it hurt?" He asked gently, grabbing her wrist to inspect it, even though one couldn't notice anything out of place due to the cast.

"I'll get over it. We both know I've had worst" She shrugged. Anthony sighed. He didn't like the idea of her getting hurt, especially because of him. Reaching over the table for the marker George had abandoned he smiled a little once he saw the little doodle on the thinking cloth. Another version of George’s take on angry Lockwood.

“Well in his defense, it did look like smoke was coming out of your ears” Y/n chuckled once she saw what he was looking at. Lockwood didn’t argue, only uncapped the marker gently grabbed her injured wrist again.

“Can I?” he asked looking up from confirmation. The girl nodded, moving closer so that it would be easier for him to write on her cast. And right there, in the dimly lit kitchen and in the early hours of the morning, Lockwood wrote his name in black ink. He was careful, writing it on her inner wrist where no one could see his first name, Anthony, written in calligraphic letters, if they didn’t already know.

“People will think I’m your property Lockwood” she joked. “As if you could ever be someone’s property” he argued.

He hoped that the dim light would hide the rosy color that was spreading on his cheeks and that she couldn’t feel the heat radiating off his face. And, truth is, there wasn’t much proof of Lockwood’s blushing. But she knew him too well and could tell by the tiny and subtle change in his demeanor.

She had seen just enough to know.

It had been roughly a week since that night when someone else noticed the carefully written word. She and Lucy had been hanging out in their shared room, goofing around, flipping through magazines, painting each other’s nails and gossiping. It was one of the very few nights they didn’t have to deal with visitors and hauntings, which was a rare occurrence.

“Oh come on! I want to sign your cast” Lucy complained, holding up a pink glitter pen. “No Luce, you’re going to ruin it” she said, letting herself fall back onto the bed, sighing. It had been a long day. Between spending the better half of the day with George at the Archives, doing research for tomorrow night’s case, coming back to find Lucy and Lockwood arguing about who would go out to buy the groceries (which was pointless as Y/n offered to go instead, to which Lockwood insisted he’d be the one to do it since she had a broken wrist and, according to him, couldn’t carry a single bag but still let her tag along with him) and dancing with Lucy to whatever song the radio was playing she had become exhausted.

“How come Lockwood can sign your cast but I can’t” she pouted. Her words had her sitting back up in mere seconds. “What? You two know that I’m not stupid enough not to notice. God, even George isn’t that oblivious”.

“George knows too?” the other asked, confused.

Lucy nodded in response. The girl groaned, falling back onto the bed, already knowing what’s coming.

“So, has he asked you out yet or-”

A pillow was thrown in her face, cutting her off. “Shut up” Y/n said, blushing, head down looking at her hands in a futile attempt to hide the pink color that was rising to her cheeks. Lucy took hold of the pillow and threw it back at her friend with little force so as to not hurt her. “You're blushing” she announced laughing at her friend.

“Oh shut up!

"Are you sure you're going to be alright on your own?" asked Lockwood, standing in the middle of their living room, their equipment bags placed down on the floor beside him. Her and Lockwood had been arguing back and forth all day about whether she could, or not, join tonight's case. It had already been four weeks since the accident that led to breaking her good wrist and the girl was growing tired of not being able to accompany the others on their nightly adventures. However no one could deny that she couldn’t yet fully handle a rapier so Lockwood won that argument.

"I could still come with you, '' she offered, hoping that he would finally cave in. "N/n we've already been through this'' he scolded, like a parent would their child,which was quite funny since it usually was the other way around whenever Lockwood decided to do something reckless (which was at least once during every case).

"Fine."

"You still haven't answered my question," he pointed out.

She sighed. "Yes, Anthony I'm going to be just fine. I can handle myself. Besides you are the ones staying out after curfew and putting yourself in danger while fighting ghosts."

"Like you don't do the same every other night."

"Apparently, I don't," she said, raising her bandaged wrist.

Lockwood laughed at her antics. "As soon as you can handle your rapier without dropping it every two minutes, I'll let you come with us. I promise. But until then you have to rest."

"I think I've had enough rest for the next eternity" she groaned.

"I just don't want to risk you getting hurt again. I want you to be safe. And taking you with us when you can't use your rapier means you can't defend yourself. And as much as I'd love to be your personal knight, I can't risk anything happening to you."

"I know Anth" she said, moving forward to pull him in a hug. The boy copied her actions, pressing a soft kiss on top of her head.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Lucy hated that I love you, didn't seem to be doing anything for the two. She hated that they were both so clueless to their feelings for one another. She hated that they couldn't just kiss already. She hated that she had to sit through all this painfully slow slow burn. But most of all she hated that she'd have to ruin their little moment.

"Come on lovebirds. We have a ghost to take down" George interrupted them before Lucy could even say anything.

The Lockwood&Co agency was out of commision for the holidays.

It usually felt nice to have a break. Not when it was the Christmas season. There were, simply, too many things to do, and that left all four of the friends exhausted. And now, well into the evening of Christmas Eve, the house was for once quiet.

George and Lucy had retired to their bedrooms a little while ago, which left Lockwood and Y/n. The two best friends were sitting side by side on the couch, sharing a blanket. Two empty mugs were abandoned on the coffee table in front of them and the radio played softly in the background.

And while Lockwood was immersed in the book he was reading, his best friend was resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting from the book he was reading to the window.

The usually bleak weather had been replaced by a lighter sky and a soft white had started to cover everything. Noticing this, the girl tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and lifted her head from his shoulder. This seemed to gain his attention as he averted his gaze from the book and looked at her confused.

"It's snowing,'' she announced. Getting up from the couch she pulled on her snow boots quickly and reached for their coats, throwing Lockwood his before putting her own on.

He didn't need to ask to know what that meant. Actually he knew just the moment she pointed the change of weather out to him. He knew there was no point in arguing with her, so instead he put on his coat and started searching for his own pair of snow boots.

When he had successfully put them on he was quick to follow the girl out the door leading to their backyard. And just as the door closed behind him, he felt something cold hit the back of his head. "Hey" he exclaimed, faking agitation as he turned to face her.

The girl gave him an innocent smile which didn't last long when a few seconds later she broke out laughing. Lockwood was amused. For a moment he froze in his place, not because of the cold or the snow but because he was mesmerized by the girl in front of him and time stood still for a second.

What could he have possibly done to deserve an angel like her?

The boy was pulled out of his trance when another snowball hit his face and his best friend was suddenly laughing harder than before.

He smiled a little, scooping up snow from the ground and throwing the snowball at her. The girl stopped laughing, clearly not expecting it. She glared at the boy as if he was an old friend that had betrayed her and turned into her worst enemy before her face broke into a soft smile as she picked up snow to throw back at him.

"Oh, it's on" Lockwood shook his head as he copied her actions.

Their little snowball fight lasted a bit over 20 minutes and it consisted of throwing snowballs at each other, laughing and giggling as Lockwood chased her around. Eventually they both got tired and when he finally caught her he lost his balance and ended up tackling her to the ground.

He rolled on his back and the two laid there, on the snowy ground, for a few minutes, laughing until they eventually calmed down. There was a silence then, one that lasted only a few seconds and yet it was enough for Anthony John Lockwood to realize that he didn't just love his best friend but he was in love with her.

Pulling himself up, he offered his hand for her to take. She joined their hands and let him pull her up. The two stood there, looking into each others' eyes with their faces only centimeters apart.

Anthony paused, as if wanting to say something but had decided against it at the last second. Then, his eyes never once leaving hers, he said "You're my best friend."

He had told her these words many times yet this once, they seemed to hold a completely different meaning. One that suggested that maybe she wasn't only his best friend and that maybe the line between platonic and romantic love had become blurry.

And it was at that moment that she realized that he was in love. With her.

He was in love with her.

And so was she.

She didn't give it a second thought, because if she had then she would have never actually done it, before pulling him closer and pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss.

And for the second time that day, time stood still for Anthony Lockwood.

And when she pulled away, she looked into his eyes and she told him that "I love you too."

And this time, the phrase she so commonly used with him held a different much deeper and more sacred.

The next morning she woke up in his room, to an empty bed. The clock on the bedside table read a few minutes after seven. She didn't bother changing out of his shirt that he had given her last night to sleep in, because she didn't want to accidentally wake up Lucy, with whom she shared a room with in the process. Instead she walked straight into the kitchen, knowing Lockwood would most likely be there.

And he was, sitting at the table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him and another mug placed directly opposite from him, where she would usually sit.

They greeted each other with a simple morning and she walked over to him first, leaving a kiss on his cheek before settling in her seat, her hand reaching over the table for his. Then there was a quiet "Merry Christmas" and after that a comfortable silence followed.

The two didn't need to exchange words, they understood each other perfectly even without saying things out loud.

She wished every morning could be like this. She wished she'd never have to worry about a case going wrong again or him doing something reckless that would put his life in danger as he more often than not did. She wished she could freeze time and stay in that moment forever.

None of them heard the timer going off. Not when the smell of something burning filled the room.

It was still a wonder for George how Lockwood had managed to burn the toast.

"Did you know that Lockwood has a picture of you in his wallet?" Lucy asked, staring absent-mindendly at the ceiling while laying in her bed. "He does?" asked the girl who lay next to her, turning to look at her friend.

"Mhm" the redhead nodded. "I noticed it yesterday when we went grocery shopping together," she continued.

"That's a bit weird. To keep a picture of your girlfriend in your wallet" Y/n pointed out.

"I actually find it really romantic. It's like he wants to have a piece of you with him all the time. I didn't really believe it could happen outside of romance novels" Lucy shrugged. "Hm. Who knew Lockwood could be such a romantic. Don't tell him I told you though because he will refuse it."

"That he keeps a picture of me in his wallet or that you called him a romantic?" the other girl laughed.

"I was talking about the picture but I guess he would have the same reaction in both cases."

She never really knew what it was like to be in love. She didn't know how to expect it would feel. She didn't even know how one falls in love with another, so much that they would go to the ends of the earth and sacrifice both themselves and the world for the other person. She thought it was something that existed purely in books, novels that would keep her up all night. And even if it did, she thought that she would never find it. That it wasn’t for her.

She never believed that she would find the Mr. Darcy to her Elizabeth Bennet; she'd never meet someone who would give up becoming a god for her like Percy Jackson did for Annabeth Chase.

Or at least she didn't used to believe.

But in the end, she found everything she could have asked for and more in the face of Anthony Lockwood, first her best friend and now her lover.

And suddenly, she now understood why some lost their minds and others chose to fight the wars, and even why certain people spend their whole lives trying to put the feeling of loving someone in such a way into words.

Because really, no amount of words, no matter how many or meaningful they were, could ever even begin to describe how she felt for him.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co #curseofhecate

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 1 month

Note

Hi, it’s me again.

Could you do 9 & 17 with Dwayne? Maybe the reader was raised by vampire hunters but they don’t like violence so they spend all their life researching instead of training to fight vampires? Just a suggestion you have all the creative liberties

9. Why are you reading at the boardwalk?

17. I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I'm nothing!

Ooh I love this idea!!! Thank you so much for requesting - I really hope you like this!

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

"There are vampires in this town. We need to handle quickly, before they know we're here."

My father stood at the front of the table and bowed down over a map of Santa Carla. My mother was washing the wooden stakes with holy water, and my sister was busy practising her fighting moves. I sighed, curled up in the chair by the window.

"Why can't we just let them be?"

"They kill people."

"Isn't hunting them down also killing people?" I asked, but the second I did I knew I went to far.

"You listen to me, child!" My father stomped towards me, grabbing my chin. "You're a part of this family, and we are destined to protect the world from vampires. We've allowed you to stay behind because you refuse to fight, but I will hear none of this nonsense!"

"But-"

"These creatures are evil, demons that poison the world. And if you do not stand with us, then you're against us. You're just as bad as them."

I stood from my chair, trembling with anger. "How dare you?! I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I am nothing! Why can't you just accept that I don't consider vampires a threat? Why must you kill them?" In the past year, I had researched everything I could, from behaviours to living situations - and I could only draw one conclusion out of all of it. Vampires weren't worse than humans. In fact, humans were more vicious killers than they were. Humans kill so many, not just people but also animals - simply for their pleasure (in the case of animals) or because it is expected from them in situations of war. But vampires, as horrible as they are, only kill because they need to in order to survive. And if they find a way for themselves to enjoy the killing, to make it bearable for them? Is that truly that bad? Does it truly make them worse than humans? I didn't think so.

My father turned to me, his stare turned ice cold. "Matthew -" my mother tried to calm him down, but he pushed her away. My sister had left the room, probably not willing to hear the same old argument again.

"You lost your brother because of those monsters. Or have you forgotten that?"

I glared at him. "Those killers have been dealt with."

"Exactly. And that's what we need to do here."

"But they didn't hurt us!"

"Get out!" My father now growled, and without looking back, I ran. I grabbed my bag, ran out of the house, and didn't stop running until I saw people.

I stopped to catch my breath, closing my eyes as I tried to fight tears. I missed my brother a lot, but it didn't justify the slaying of vampires. It didn't. It wasn't right, and it pained me more than I liked to admit that my family couldn't see that.

I entered the boardwalk, finding a way through the crowds. In the bag I'd taken was one of my favourite books, and I knew that I needed to read right now. I needed to clear my head and get away from the trouble at home. I didn't like the idea of reading on the sand, to afraid the sand would get stuck between the pages and damage the book. So, I walked around looking for a better spot.

I sighed as I found an empty bench at the boardwalk, a bright streetlantern right above it. It was a perfect spot to read. As I sat down, curling my legs up beneath me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over me. If they could only just accept me for who I was, and accept that I would never be like them...

I opened my book, and before I knew it, I was engulfed in the story. The laughter of the people on the boardwalk disappeared into the far background of my mind. The movements of the crowds disappeared from my sight. It was just me and my book. I had read it many a time before, every single time turning back to it. If the count cared so much for Mina, so much that in the end, he begged her to kill him so she could be free - then he wasn't truly evil, was he?

"Been a long time since I've seen anyone with that book."

I jumped, startled by the voice in front of me. I looked up and saw a handsome man looking at me.

"It's one of my favourites."

He smiled as he sat down next to me. "Why are you reading at the boardwalk?"

"It's more quiet here," I said with a soft smile. "Here I can get lost in the story, but at home..." I shook my head. "It's easier to read here."

"I'm Dwayne."

I gave him my name, finding myself enjoying his presence. There was something about him. We talked for hours. About the book I was reading now, about books we both had read - and by the time the boardwalk closed, I found myself considering him a close acquaintance.

"Do you want to meet again sometime?" I asked him, feeling more shyly than I had anticipated.

"How about we go out for dinner tomorrow? I'll meet you at the boardwalk at eight."

I smiled, nodding. "Sounds good. I'll see you then!"

Dwayne drove off, feeling contemplated. He knew that they were a member of a family of hunters, but nothing about them gave him any warning signs. In everything they'd talked about that evening, they had seem very positive towards vampires. No, they weren't a threat, he decided. Maybe even an asset if push came to shove. The question was, would that stay that way when they realised that they were destined to be a vampire themselves?

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #dwayne #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

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flowersandbigteeth · 5 months

Text

Meeting your Changeling BF: Part 5

General Plot: You are on your way to Leotolas when you get a surprise visitor.

Word Count: 4k

Changeling (Clark) x f flower nymph reader

TW: Yandere behavior, Murder, light mind control, mentions of domestic violence

Find other parts here

The next day Clark informed you you’d only made it halfway to your destination. The two of you stopped at an inn to spend the night. It was small and quaint with a plump orc that cooked the meals.

You were happy to stretch your legs. The bite Clark had given you was on its way to healing and you hardly felt it.

"Back again, I see. And this time with a little wife," the orc said, sweetly to Clark, glancing at you as he set down a plate.

"You've been here before?" you asked him and he smiled.

"Yes, I studied in Leotolas. That's where the school is," he said. "I always intended to come back with-."

He paused and looked down, his eyes dead before he drew up another smile for you.

"No matter what I'd planned," he laughed. "You'll love it."

"He's not lying!" the orc laughed, winking. "Leotolas is lovely. The diamond, they call it. Better rest up. There's lots to see!"

Clark tipped his head at him, the mood light.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you said as nature was calling and the orc pointed to a small hallway.

"Don't dawdle," Clark said over his shoulder before returning to his conversation with the friendly orc.

Making your way to the bathroom, you did your business and had your hand on the door when it opened in front of you.

"Neia!" you gasped at the orc you'd met in the village. "What are you doing here?"

She shouldered her way into the bathroom.

"Looking for you!" she barked. "You need to come back to the village!"

You narrowed your eyes at her.

"Why?" you snapped. "I know you miss your friend, but I don't know you."

Her eyes widened.

"You don't know him!" she said. "He's dangerous and a liar!"

"I'm so tired of hearing that!" You snarled. "He's not bad just because he's a changeling!"

"He's bad because he's kidnapped you," she said. "He took you from your world and trapped you here and you're following him around like a puppy."

"He did not!" You argued. "(Y/N) did that herself. She was unhappy and I can see why. Where were you when that monster I met was beating her? Who needs friends like you?"

"What?" she gasped. "Harri would never lay a hand on her. He loves her. He loves you!"

"Well she obviously didn't love him," you hissed. "and neither do I. Leave us alone. Mourn your friend and move on. I am not her and I don't owe you my time or affection."

There was a knock on the door and your heart skipped at the voice you heard.

"What's taking so long?" Harri asked.

Neia winced and the frightening man stuffed himself into the small bathroom with the two of you.

"How could you?" you hissed at Neia. "Did you think I'd come with you back to that horrible village? Clark told me how you tormented him! You're terrible people!"

Harri frowned at you, his blue eyes large and hurt.

"Did he tell you why (Y/N) chose me?" he asked. "or did he conveniently skip that story?"

"(Y/N) was troubled," you barked back, mimicking Clark’s words.

"Because he played with her emotions," he snarled. "Clark attacked me. He almost killed me and (Y/N) saw first hand how dangerous he is. Yes, she was stuck to him when she was a baby, but he broke her trust. He lashed out in a fit of jealousy! He wouldn't let her go! He wouldn't let her choose! (Y/N) was loved by the town and he couldn't tolerate it. He wanted her to only love him. Only acknowledge him."

"I don't care," you said. "Why should I trust the man who tossed me into a stove? Is that your version of love?"

"But I didn't (Y/N)," he insisted. "I came home and you were gone and I knew Clark had to have something to do with it. I didn't see you until Clark walked you to the carriage. It wasn't me that hurt you, I swear. The man is a changeling. How can you trust him?"

"You're a liar," you said. "Clark would never hurt me and I'm not coming back with you. I want to live my life not the other woman's! If Clark truly loved her he wouldn't send her to another dimension. Your story doesn't make sense."

His eyes narrowed and he grimaced.

"I won't let you!" he growled, grabbing your wrist painfully and jerking it to him. “You belong to me! You chose me, not him!”

You peered up at him, your spine straight.

"That!" you said, jerking your finger at him. "That's the real you! You see Neia? Maybe it wasn't Clark who lied to you!"

"It's more complicated than that," she stammered.

You turned on her, furious.

"It's not." you insisted.

"But, the village needs you," she said. "Our crops will fail! The wells will dry. You must return!"

You felt something bubbling below the surface of your skin. You felt the rage the other nymphs spoke of. They wanted to control you. They wanted to use you. They wanted to sever your connection to your anchor.

"Her eyes," Neia gasped, but you heard it very far away.

Something in your brain was screaming GROW. GROW. GROW. There was a tingle in your scalp and the pretty delicate jasmine in your hair grew thorns.

These outsiders are a plague, someone said. A woman's voice, light as a butterfly. The outsiders only ruin this world. Purify them. Send them to the land. The soil is thirsty for their blood. Spread the brambles. Spread the old wood.

"I am the old wood!" you howled to the magic coursing through you.

The room became a tangle of brambles and thorns. Neia tried to make for the door but it was too late. Harri went for his sword, but the space was too small. Your brambles wrapped his neck, his arms, the thorns giving him a thousand deep cuts and you squeezed.

"(Y/N)! No this isn't you!" she cried, begging for her life.

"You. Don't. Know. Me." you said in a voice you'd never heard before.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Open the bloody door!" you heard Clark screaming.

There was a crack and then he was digging through your brambles to get to you. The scent of his blood, brought you to your senses.

You blinked. The brambles began to recede and your eyes cleared. Harri's lifeless body fell to the floor.

"Clark?" you whimpered, your eyes filling with tears when you saw the many little cuts on his skin.

Neia scrambled to her feet, but Clark grabbed her in his claws.

"If you make this a problem you'll regret it. Go home and tell them Harri ran off," he snarled. "Pray I never see you again!"

She nodded, taking one last horrified look at Harri before she ran.

Clark wrapped you in his arms as you sobbed.

"I didn't mean to…" you gasped.

"It's okay, my love," he hummed, pressing you into his chest. "You did the right thing."

"I did?" you whined. He met your eyes with his, warm and cherry red.

"Yes," he said. "You stood up to him. The other you had no spine. She let him do what he liked with her…but you…you are different. You are better."

"What do we do with the body?" you asked and he smirked.

With a snap of his finger, Harri's body dissolved in black flame.

"See? Simple, love," he said. "It's as if he were never here."

"Except the door," you nodded to the scraps of wood lying in splinters in the hall.

"A few gold coins and the proprietor will forgive us," he assured you. "Let's return to your dinner. You need to eat."

He kissed your head and carried you out of the bathroom.

You were still shaking, but after a few bites of food and a warm smile from Clark, you felt yourself relax. He brushed your cheek with his thumb.

"You truly are wonderful, (Y/N)," he said.

Instead of staying the night, he gave the orc a few gold coins as he'd promised and put you back in the carriage.

"We'll leave the bad memory behind," he said as the carriage carried you into the night. "we won't stop there again. You don't need to see his face in your mind."

Like an eraser rubbing it away, the memory was gone. You knew what you did. You could call up the thick scent of blood, but there was no image. You couldn't remember what Harri even looked like. It was odd, yes, but it wasn't something you wanted to remember so you let it disappear.

Instead you laid your head on Clark's lap and let the clopping of horse hooves put you to sleep.

—

"Wake up, my love," Clark said and you lifted your head. "We've arrived."

You yawned.

"Did you sleep?" you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled at you, his irises back to smokey gray.

"I watched you, sweetling," he said. "I can't seem to take my eyes off of you."

He turned his attention to the city and you caught a glimpse of it for the first time.

"It is like a diamond!" you gasped.

"Put on your coat," he said, helping your arms through the sleeves.

You could see your breath in a puff in front of you. The countryside was covered in glistening white snow, but tucked in the center of the hills of powder was a massive faceted dome. It glittered like the ring on your finger.

"Are we going inside?" you asked eagerly, making Clark laugh.

"Yes, the city is inside," he said, running a hand over your head. "This is a mage's city. You'll be safe here. Most people aren't allowed except for a few hours to shop. No more surprise visits."

"Do we have a visa?" you asked.

"I am a trained mage and you are my wife. No doors will be closed to you," he said.

Clark laughed at the little O your mouth made, in shock.

"Come," he said, helping you out of the carriage. "Our luggage will be delivered."

There was a short line of visitors at the guard station.

"You've brought us a little nature spirit," the guard said, smiling at you while he stamped your book. "The goddess's blessing."

Clark snorted at his interest, putting his body between the two of you.

"Welcome to Leotolas," he laughed as you passed through the gate.

The city lay out before you. It was much warmer inside. Flowers bloomed on trellises. People lounged in small parks.

"Now for your surprise!" Clark said, winking.

He hurried you down the streets, though you couldn't help gawking. Elaborate fountains spat water and statues moved on their own. The streets were paved with shining white marble. It was like nothing you'd seen before. There was a giant glowing sphere that hovered above it all like a sun.

"Close your eyes," Clark insisted, placing his hand over them.

You heard a door open and then your footsteps echoed on wood.

"This is our home, love," he said, removing his hand.

"It's beautiful!" you beamed.

It truly was lovely. It wasn't like the cold stone of Clark's castle in the village. He pulled you through the rooms, naming each one. There were warm wood floors throughout, airy furniture surrounded by lots of pretty potted plants.

"There's a garden in the back," he said. "I only cleared it out. I thought you might want to work it how you like, but…this is the most important room."

He tugged you in a small room painted sunny yellow.

"It's a nursery," you said, running a finger over the cradle for the baby.

He grinned at you, tipping your face up to his.

"We don't have to start right away," he said. "But I wanted you to know my intentions. I want to grow our family."

You giggled.

"Maybe we'll need another," you joked and he folded himself down to kiss you. He took one hand, putting the other on the small of your back to swing you around in a silent dance.

"I think this is the happiest day of my life," he sang, twirling you under his arm. "My little sprout is planted where she belongs. Under the golden eye of the mage's sun."

You heard a knock on the door and Clark frowned.

"I wasn't expecting any visitors," he grumbled that he had to let you go.

You followed him to the first floor, peeking curiously around his body. When he opened the door a naga slithered inside. His scales flashed like coins and his long hair looked like spun gold. He wore a white sash across his bare chest. Green eyes peered back around Clark to look at you.

"Greetings master," Clark said, tightly. "I did not expect your visit so soon. (Y/N) allow me to introduce my teacher, Hassan."

"Well met nymph," he said, examining you, closely.

His eyes glowed with some inner magic, the slitted pupils expanding and contracting.

"Tell me, Clark. How did you tame a spirit of the old wood?" he asked. "Usually they're either dancing naked under the stars or plotting civilizations downfall."

You didn't particularly like the implication that he "tamed" you.

"Clark is my husband," you said, lifting your nose. "I am not an animal to be tamed. We are in love."

Clark's eyes widened at you and his mouth fell open.

"(Y/N)!" he gasped, his cheeks and the tips of his ears darkening.

The naga let out a deep chuckle.

"You will fit right in, little one," he said, glancing at Clark with a smirk.

Suddenly the world went blurry and there was a deep voice in your head.

Welcome to our universe, traveler.

It took you a moment to realize the naga was speaking in your mind.

You know I'm not from here? you asked.

I can see your aura. It still carries the scent of your home… Any mage can sense this…Though few mages can see you've touched the old wood. You've heard the voice of the whisperer for the first time.

The vision of Harri's broken body flashed in front of you.

You did well to defeat your enemy.

Are you my enemy? you asked.

I do not wish to be. Your presence under the mage's golden eye can be a blessing.

Or? you asked, feeling there was something else.

Or you can bring our ruin. Clark… plays with dangerous magic he does not truly understand.

Is that a problem? you questioned.

Clark has had a hard life…and I do wish the two of you happiness. You will find here that things are rarely black and white. Please remember that.

The world suddenly cleared again and the naga looked at Clark.

"I expect you at the Mage's Chamber in the morning. Since you've returned, you have duties," he said.

"Of course, master," Clark said, nodding.

"Good day, nymph. I look forward to speaking again. When you're ready."

He slithered out the front door and it closed by itself behind him. Clark let out a breath and a dry laugh.

"Master Hassan seems scary, but he's brilliant," he said. "He's the senior mage. The most powerful and the oldest."

You frowned after him, puzzled by his words.

Clark's brow drew, but not for the right reason.

"Does he bother you? I promise he's harmless…well…he'd never harm you," he said. "Like the nature spirits, we mages like to keep to our own. Outsiders often have bad intentions and would use our skill for misdeeds."

You shook your head, forcing a smile to your lips.

"No, he doesn't bother me, but you know I get tired meeting people," you said, taking his hand. "Let's enjoy the day before you have to go to work tomorrow."

He grinned.

"Time to look at the garden," he said, tugging you out of the French doors. "If you want anything you can go to the shops while I'm at the Mage's Chamber tomorrow. I've got boatloads of gold for you to spend. You can redecorate the whole house if you wish."

The two of you wandered into the garden where empty flower beds and planters were scattered around.

“You know (Y/N),” he murmured and you glanced back at him, seeing the tips of his ears were pink. “I am in love with you, too.”

You gave him a bright smile and tipped up on your toes to peck his lips.

That night, you slept next to Clark in your bed for the first time. You ought to have slept soundly, safe under the mage’s dome, but you were plagued with dreams.

You found yourself in a room, looking at the mirror.

“Hello,” the woman in the mirror said. “We’re connected you and I.”

“You’re the other (Y/N), aren’t you?” you gasped.

She laughed, a tinkling sound.

“Well met,” she said and peered around you as if she were looking over your shoulder. “Ah…you’re with Clark. He must be pleased.”

You looked behind you, but there was nothing but black void.

“Everyone misses you,” you said and she frowned.

“I’m sure they do,” she sighed.

“You don’t miss them?” you asked and she looked far away for a moment.

“That world…is a cruel place,” she murmured. “I quite like yours.”

“You do?” you asked. “It’s dirty and loud. People are just as cruel.”

She shrugged.

“You’re friends are nice,” she said. “Not like mine…and my head…is much quieter here. The whisperer can’t reach me…”

“So it’s true,” you asked. “You sent yourself there?”

She gave you a long look, as if she was considering something.

“It doesn’t matter how I arrived. It only matters that this is where I belong,” she told you, which was utterly confusing.

“You don’t want to trade back?” you asked.

“I wouldn’t even if I could,” she said and then she laughed again. “I like movies and driving! Cars are incredible!”

You frowned at her.

“I killed your boyfriend,” you said, figuring you ought to tell the truth about that. “How could you be with someone so abusive?”

Her mouth formed a thin line, but she didn’t cry or yell.

“Your choices in that world are your own,” she said. “I’ve left that all behind.”

“How…why are we speaking this way?” you asked and she reached a hand through the glass, touching your cheek.

“Our aura’s may overlap from time to time,” she said. “I chose to approach you because…maybe I was a bit curious how things were going. Also, I wished to warn you.”

“About Clark?” you said, a little offended. “I’m tired of hearing-”

She cut you off with a laugh.

“He’s had a hard life…” she said, thoughtfully. “If he is happy, then I wont interfere. No, I’m warning you of the old wood. The whisperer who will torment you the longer you stay in that world.”

“Torment me?” you asked. “I don’t understand.”

She twisted her lip.

“You couldn’t,” she said. “Nymphs live in the old wood because they are called to be there. Clark…disrupted the way of things when he took me. That event has consequences…but…there have been nymphs in the past that left the old wood and thrived…not many. Just be careful. Don’t let the whisperer pull you away from your purpose.”

“Who is the whisperer?’ you asked. “A goddess?”

“It’s hard to describe what she is,” she said. “The closest I can get is that she is the voice of the old wood. She believes we nymphs are her army. The godess created her to grow, but she proved too wild to be allowed to run free.

For now, and for many centuries that world has hung in a delicate balance. At the edges of the old wood, the outsiders have forged their society. They need growth to build their cities, their villages, their kingdoms. Too far from her influence the land turns to barren desert. The whisperer does not need the outsiders, but they need her. She only wishes to grow and grow until there is nothing but her wilds and her children.”

“I met some other nymphs who seemed to believe the same,” you explained and she nodded.

“You may yet meet more,” she said. “Had you enjoyed the freedom of the wild as you grew, you would have felt the same. The whisperer tormented me for refusing to return. For mingling with the outsiders. For helping them cut rocks from the mountains and sow seeds in straight lines.”

“Does Clark know any of this?” you asked and she shook her head.

“Clark will not understand. If you tell him he will become obsessed with fixing it for you. He has always been that way. You ought to keep this to yourself if you want to protect him. He can’t tame the old wood, but he is arrogant enough to try…for you.”

“Then what should I do?” you asked and she gave you a smirk, shrugging.

“That’s up to you,” she said. “I do not envy you.”

From far away you heard Clark’s voice.

“(Y/N), wake up,” he said.

“It’s time for me to go,” the other (Y/N) hummed. “Good luck to you.”

“Wait I have more-” you started to say, but the dream dissolved and your eyes opened.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Clark said and you blinked at him.

“Um…yes,” you sighed. “I had a dream…about- about- I can’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment and then kissed you on the forehead.

“Get ready,” he said. “I want to make you breakfast before I have to leave.”

You gave him a small smile and rolled out of bed, headed for the bathroom. While you brushed your teeth, you considered what the other you had said. You knew the whisperer, the voice in your head that wrapped itself around your fear and anger like a warm blanket. She wanted you to grow and grow until the outsiders were nothing.

The other you was happy where she was. It seemed to you that she must have sent herself there and didn’t want to admit it. Perhaps she felt guilty for stealing your life from you, sending you to one she obviously disdained. But you were not as happy as she appeared to be in that world. The grind of life had broken you down. You felt distant from your friends and didn’t have the time or energy for love. This felt like a new start and you thought you ought to take it.

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kilikina34512 · 5 months

Text

Loki Meets Peter

I hate how long I've been gone from writing and posting, but to explain would be a story in itself. Long short, life sucks, desire for enjoyments was gone, and I'm refinding myself and my writing. I look forward to writing more here and there until I have more time again. It's shorter than I prefer to write, but I had an hour only to spare.

This story is based from a meme I saw on TikTok that I can't seem to find again, but wrote from what I remembered with my own flare to it. Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Summary: Loki comes back to the compound only to meet Spiderman. Basically, Peter being Peter and Loki's reaction to it.

Warnings: none, kinda fluffy cute

Word Count: 706

You were so happy to have Loki home, you could barely peel yourself from his side after the Bifrost had vanished. He'd been gone off world with Thor for over a month dealing with a conflict that was facing Asgard. Part of his release from life in the dungeons had been contingent on using his abilities for good, which for Odin had meant responding when summoned to fight for Asgard instead of its destruction.

A deal you weren't enthusiastic about, but that was a battle for another day.

Right now, you were enjoying just being able to hold his hand as you both walked into the compound. You knew he'd been healed already before returning home, but you could see the strain in his body language that you'd learned to read. His shoulders were more tense and tight, spine straighter than normal to hide the fatigue, his face a bit stonier than it normally would be with you around. You had a relaxing day planned for the two of you, everyone already knowing not to bother you so you could both spend time together after such a time away from one another.

You were halfway down the hall that led to your suite when a door closer to you opened and a small form came out of the room. Seeing who it was, you feared this could go badly with how tense your God of Mischief was. It wasn't uncommon for him to snap at someone when he'd come back from Asgard, which was why no one had a problem with you helping him get back into a more amiable mood.

Before you could say anything against it, the boy a few inches taller than you raced over and had his hand stuck towards your man. "You must be Mr. Loki! Hi, I'm Peter, Peter Parker. It's so nice to finally meet you, she's told me so much about you." Peter's eyes quickly indicated you before staring excitedly at the god before him. You'd already told Loki about the newest Avenger on your way inside the building so that if they came across each other, it wouldn't be a surprise. Still, you'd hoped not to have this meeting until tomorrow.

Letting go of your hand after a moment of hesitation, Loki finally shook Peter's hand. "You must be the one called Spiderman. I am Loki, of Asgard."

Peter, in his ever inquisitive nature, immediately asked, "I know you're an Avenger too, but, aren't you like... a bad guy?"

Loki, ever the smart mouthed silver-tongued Prince, didn't hesitate to respond, "It varies from moment to moment."

You gave Loki an admonishing look that you knew he saw. You could see the faint tug of his lips, knowing he wanted to smirk at your response. "So," Peter dragged out before continuing, "How much do I need to worry? Like, on a scale of one to ten, one being flicking someone's ear and ten being something horrible like killing puppies and kittens, where are you at right now?"

Loki blinked and you barely held back the giggle that wanted to let loose. You watched his posture relax ever so slightly and his voice came out with less of its formal tone. "I would say it is currently about a three."

The boy in front of you both smiled before nodding. "Cool, could you let me know if it ever gets above a six?" Looking down at the alert on his watch, Peter looked back up with a more urgent expression. "I have to go, Happy is waiting to take me over to see Aunt May. It was nice to meet you!" With that, the boy rushed away as fast as he could without all out running.

After a moment of staring at Peter as he departed, Loki turned to look at you, amusement shining in his eyes. "I like the boy of arachnids. He amuses me greatly."

A wide smile broke out across your face as you tugged him back down the hall again, ready to spoil him. "I'm glad to hear it, he's a precious bean for sure. Now let's get to our room, I have everything ready for a bath and a new book of poetry is beside the bed ready for cuddles and reading."

#loki fluff #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki x reader fluff #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x peter parker #loki x peter #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker fluff #peter parker his cute self #amused loki #short fic #kili stories

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1d1195 · 10 months

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Protection III

Hi hi, here’s part 3. I am focusing deeply on the word ‘protection’ today. You can read the rest here: Protection

I am going to spoil the plot a bit by way of warning, but I want to be super up front about it. ***A horrible guy is going slip something in her drink about a third of the way through. Nothing awful is going to happen to her—she doesn’t even leave the bar with him (not with Harry around) but I want to make sure everyone is aware before you read. Please only read if you feel safe to do so.*** Men are the worst. Except Harry. Obvi. Otherwise this is going to be a little angsty and a little fluffy/comforting? That's the best way I can describe it.

My aim in these beginning parts is to really establish their little relationship they have going. A lot of that entails what she needs protection from--which happens to mainly be stupid men. I'm really aiming to contrast how lovely Harry is by comparison.

~6.1k words

Harry looked briefly at his hand on her shoulder. He didn’t miss the way she flinched as he touched her. Then flicked his gaze back up at him. “Take your hand off her yourself, or I will take it off for you.”

On this particular Friday, Harry was a mere three seats from her. Still at the end of the bar. Normally, she was at a table or dancing with her friends, so Harry was far out of view and earshot. He paid no attention to her or the many guys that were fighting for her affection. He thought it was funny to see the action up close. There was a secret message hidden in her eyes that one of her girlfriends seemed to know implicitly and she would come to her rescue, getting rid of the men surrounding her.

Harry scrolled through his phone, nursing his glass of soda water pretending it was gin and tonic with a lime. All the while, straining to listen to the dull roar of the crowd to hear the names of the people that dropped into her lap so he could run them through a background check.

She had to give credit where credit was due. Harry never looked miserable when he was out and about with her. He never told her no either—at least regarding where they could go. There was never a moment of the place was too sketchy. He let her figure that out, which in a weird way was comforting. If it was sketchy, with a previous agent, she was pretty sure she would stand her ground and stay there. Even if she felt weird. Now, she would simply look at Harry and he would hold the door open for her as they left.

“Hey,” this guy had pristinely coiffed hair. Like it was sprayed into place. She noted that his green pants had little blue whales embroidered on them—the same blue that matched his polo. It was like he just set foot off a yacht.

She had met his type several times over the years. He was definitely not the guy she wanted to be around. She missed his name as she thought about the last time she was forced to be with her dad on a boat. It was some networking thing—back when he was a senator, looking for support and aiming for a higher position. The escapade entailed him rubbing shoulders with his fellow governmental famous friends while she was stuck with their sons and daughters.

She hated their elitist conversations about how much money they had and why the wait at restaurants was getting out of hand when no one wanted to work—when she was certain the lot of them had never set foot outside of Mommy and Daddy’s bank to make their own money.

Fortunately, the guy in the weird pants put his hand on her arm, causing her to tune back in. She hoped she didn’t look ridiculous zoning out. Obviously, she hadn’t, if he continued talking to her. Her friend didn’t come over to interject either so maybe he was fine. She smiled politely at him, focusing on the one-sided conversation he seemed to be having. Maybe that was why he hadn’t noticed she wasn’t paying attention. He was merely listening to his own voice.

She thought about her flashcards sitting on her coffee table at home. That was better than listening to this guy. She pictured the words, the definitions, the pictures she had painstakingly drawn on each one over the last couple weeks. She had her third exam of one of her major classes in two weeks. She wasn’t struggling—especially if you looked at her grades, but it was because of the effort she put into her work to make sure it was top notch.

Where was her friend to get this guy away from her?

Oh well, at least she could imagine the different ring-structures while she zoned out.

Why did she even bother coming out tonight? She and Harry were in the middle of their latest rom-com when her friend invited her out. After the whole concert fiasco, while she was staying in for a week to ease Harry’s worries (and because he got yelled at—despite the fact everyone told him she would leave) she studied a lot. Meanwhile, Harry had created a list of every stupid rom-com movie he could find on Netflix and during her study breaks, they were slowly working their way through it. Being the scientist she was, she created a spreadsheet to rate each movie and list any additional comments. There were subcategories for their rating system, predictability, likability, casting, soundtrack, trashiness, etc.

“What are we going to do with this information?” Harry asked, looking at her laptop with her as she screen-shared it to her TV post-viewing Your Place or Mine.

“Ashton Kutcher gets a 10/10—"she muttered.

“You always give him a 10/10,” Harry reminded her.

“—and I don’t know. Nothing. It’s fun!”

It was the simplest fun she’d had in years.

Where was her friend?

She took a long chug of her drink, finishing it off and shaking the glass at the bartender while she mouthed “thank you.” She continued listening to the mind-numbing conversation this man was having with himself. It shocked Harry she could be so grumpy toward DSS but someone that was clearly boring the lights out of her was not subject to the lovely attitude he had been so lucky to see so many times over the last two and a half months.

Harry received an email alert that the check was completed. She may have missed his name, but Harry didn’t. He glanced through the details, finding public indecency from getting too drunk and showing off in public in front of a group of people he shouldn’t have. What should have been a short stint in jail, there was instead a fine was paid by someone with the same last name as him and no more record of the event. That was enough for Harry to get her out of there but theoretically if it was swept under the rug, then it wasn’t all that bad...marginally. So, he could leave him be. For now.

He also attended one of the private universities in the city. A red flag on her end for sure, but she had to have known that; he had been talking to her for over fifteen minutes and he seemed like the type to brag about where he went to school. So why was she listening to him? Harry swore if he had to listen to him fail to give her an orgasm tonight while he stood outside her apartment, he was going to lose his mind.

She sipped her new drink. Her fourth or fifth. Harry felt a little nervous given she hadn’t had any water and it had been hours since she had eaten. He wasn’t worried about her getting intoxicated—Harry remembered drinking significantly in college, but he didn’t want her to have a hangover or feel sick. He hated that and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Well, except maybe this guy. He had to remember to ask what she was thinking about while he spoke because there was no way she was paying this close attention to the nonsense spewing out of him about NFTs and Cryptocurrency.

He leaned toward her ear and whispered something. It made her cheeks turn red. But when she smirked it didn’t reach her eyes. Of course, this idiot didn’t notice. But Harry certainly did. She shook her head at whatever it was. But he didn’t accept that. He leaned closer toward her. Sliding in between her seat and the occupied one behind her. He draped his arm awkwardly around her and Harry couldn’t take it.

Her friend must have left or simply wasn’t paying attention.

Harry tapped her shoulder. “Love,” he said gently as she turned to him. “Let’s go please,” his voice was even, pleasant. He wasn’t trying to make a scene. But she was on drink number five at this point. Alcohol tended to make her a bit feisty—or feistier as Harry would say. She narrowed her eyes at him with a smirk.

“No, thank you,” she said just as politely and turned her attention back to the guy beside her. Even though she didn’t want to. It was so stubborn of her. Stupid of her. In hindsight, if she just listened to Harry, she probably would have had a much more pleasant weekend.

Harry grabbed the barstool she was sitting on and spun her back toward him. His thigh touched her knee. He gripped the back of her seat, closing her off from the guy she was speaking to. He leaned closer to her she could smell his minty breath. “Now,” his voice was low. But she could practically feel the vibration run through her like a current. Harry was intimidating (and without a doubt hot, it was impossible not to notice, especially when he was so close, smelled so good, and she had a lot of alcohol swimming through her bloodstream). It felt like maybe this was a terrible idea having someone close in age after all. Someone that, in theory, she could date if he were anyone else. If he weren’t someone charged with protecting her well-being every moment of the day.

“You always want to ruin my fun,” she grumbled sipping her drink.

He shook his head. “I don’t, love. I really don’t. But I want y’safe. Let’s go.”

“Look buddy,” the moron said to Harry. He put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re having a grand time right now. She doesn’t need your help.”

“Harry,” she hissed. Her eyes looked a bit glassy, and Harry thought she was probably feeling all four drinks she had tasted spin through her mind. The bar was hot, and confrontation was never off the table with her and probably fought well with the liquid running through her.

“Love,” Harry repeated.

“Don’t call her that,” the guy snorted. “It’s pretty pathetic you’re pining after her. There’s plenty of girls here that you could talk to. Why do you even want her?”

Harry looked at her directly in the eye, even though hers were struggling to see straight, her head bobbing ever so slightly. “I asked nicely, first. Please try t’remember that in the morning,” he told her evenly. In one movement, he grabbed the guy’s wrist off her shoulder so quickly and twisted it behind his back. Before there was any time to react from any party, Harry shoved him into the bar leaned close to the guy’s ear who let out the least manly squeal Harry had ever heard. “Public indecency charge and daddy covering up the charge doesn’t bode well for your limp dick, buddy,” he snarled in his ear.

“Harry!” She shouted angrily. Harry shoved him into the bar once more, causing him to grunt. In the next moment he grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. She pulled against him shouting and smacking his arm, but he didn’t release her. He was only mildly irritated by her weak punches. She was pissed he was strong. It wasn’t fair. The bouncers at the door were privy to the situation. They understood all too well who she was and who Harry was. They avoided eye contact with the girl vibrating with anger.

Harry lost his grip on her for all of two seconds. He caught her around the waist before she could even run three little steps. Without much effort, he swept her wiggling form into his arms. Tossing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing but a small bag of potatoes. Then he simply turned to walk the few blocks back to his SUV.

She did not like it. “PUT. ME. DOWN.”

“Y’know, I did m'training with another political family. They had a young daughter. After a long day, I had t’do the very same thing t’her. If you’re going t’act like a child. I’ll treat you like one. M’doing this for your safety.”

“You’re EMBARRASSING me!” She shrieked.

“Then jus’ listen next time. M’not waiting around for some financial know-it-all t’indecently expose himself around you or worse. I’m done with your reign of paperwork terror. Not for a bratty girl that jus’ wants attention,” it was a low blow. He knew it as he said it. Especially after her last threat when he called her a brat.

She hit him hard against his back. Clawed at his shirt. It was no use because his muscles were dense and had no give for her weak punches. She wondered if he could even feel them. “I am not a brat!” she hissed at him.

“You couldn’t fool me.”

She gave him a few more lackluster punches. Yelled so many swears she would embarrass a sailor. But after two blocks, her yells turned into grumbles. She muttered a few more choice words with Harry’s name attached as he carried her further down the sidewalk.

After a full three minutes of silence, she sighed. The rush of blood to her head was definitely calming her quicker than if she were upright. She felt woozy between being upside down for so long and the flush of alcohol in her bloodstream. “I won’t run,” she mumbled after a moment. “Please put me down, Harry,” she said politely. “I promise.”

Given that any time she uttered the word or swore to keep a promise, she did (with the exception of losing her phone), he almost immediately righted her. He held her steady by the hip for a moment until the blood went back to where it belonged in her body.

They walked in more silence, another block. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

"S’okay. It was rude of me. I didn't like what I saw on the background. Nor what he had t’say,” he shrugged. He was grateful she didn’t take off again. Harry didn’t want to fight with her.

She smirked. Her eyes fluttered a moment too long. If Harry hadn't been practically studying her every movement over the last few months he might not have noticed the extra twitch in her eye as she did. He looked at her curiously, only one extra second longer, before he decided to shrug it off as the alcohol. “Least I waited t’carry you till we were outside, yeah?” He asked. Harry was nothing but partial to constructive feedback at least. Especially in a moment like this. When it was quiet, just the pair of them. Like their coffee runs or while they were watching movies. When she wasn’t on display in front of her friends, and she wasn’t thinking about Harry like he was her enemy.

She nodded. Her head felt really heavy, suddenly. The last drink must have caught up to her more than all the others. Which sucked mainly because it didn't even taste good. It was like the bartender added extra salt to it or something.

“Yeah,” she mumbled and stumbled a bit. She managed to press her hand against the building they were walking nearby as she stopped to try and catch her breath. Her brain felt so fuzzy. She tried to shake her head of the fogginess, but it only made her dizzier. Harry grabbed her other arm and held her upright only briefly before she nearly collapsed.

“Whoa, love?” Harry asked quickly wrapping an arm around her waist to stabilize her.

"Something’s wrong...my drink was salty," she mumbled almost intelligibly.

Her brain automatically put it together, but her tongue felt too swollen in her mouth to explain it to Harry. She pictured drawing it. Benzene rings. 1-methyl, 7-nitro. She could have drawn them herself if she wasn’t so tired. They nearly danced in her vision, as if they were appearing out of thin air as they attached to the cells in her bloodstream.

Harry swore under his breath as the realization hit him shortly after her. He swept her back into his arms, this time cradling her against his chest. His heart raced with anger and worry. “Love? Y'with me?" He asked uselessly. She nodded anyway and gave a small sound that he imagined was supposed to be a word but didn't make it all the way through her lips. "Fucking hell," he hissed and hurried the final block to his SUV.

Harry drove as fast as he possibly could while keeping an eye on her slumping figure in his passenger seat. He barely had the car in shifted in park (in a no parking zone at that) when he rushed to her side. “Gonna get y’some help, love. M’so sorry,” he mumbled to her. Harry felt terrible. Horrible. He should have been faster at getting her out of there. He should have...

Well, he didn’t really have time for should haves right now.

He cradled her once more. While his heart was fraught with worry his brain was trying to sort through everything that went wrong so, very quickly...he couldn’t stop the thought of how natural it felt to hold her like this. He wished with everything in him, it was for something else. Maybe she simply drank too much. Or she fell asleep on the floor amidst her study session. Anything. Anything but this.

Harry sprinted into the emergency room shouting orders explaining who he was holding in his arms. As soon as they realized the gravity of the situation, he explained who he was as he laid her on a gurney. Now that she was going to get treatment and out of his arms, the worry in his heart escalated. So much so it must have been plain on his face. The nurses were putting IVs in her, a doctor flashed a light in her eyes and all the while she limply laid there. Like she was merely asleep on her couch in her flowery apartment.

“Did he—?”

Harry felt his stomach knot at the half-question. His heart filled with venom. He couldn’t hear the words. He didn’t want anyone to hear it. He couldn’t fathom someone—no, something awful and terrible hurting her like that. “No,” he snapped. He was mad that he didn’t see the drink. It had to be when she was yelling at him. and her fitful, spiteful drink of the same glass when he stopped paying attention to her for half a second. He must have thought she would have shaken Harry off. Leave her alone with the likes of him.

Harry thought it would have been a hell of a lot worse if she hadn’t sat at the bar this evening. Or if he didn’t hear his name when he introduced himself. If he didn’t get the background check back as quickly as he did and knew that an indecent exposure was enough to make Harry weary.

Harry was pacing the hall outside the room where she was being tested. He was thinking of ways to murder him in the time it would take for her to be ready tomorrow morning. Or arrested. He could call a tip to his friend at the local police station. He called the bartender to let him know. To keep an eye on anyone else at that bar and to get that horrible monster out.

Oh, he was so fucking mad. “Goddammit!” He shouted knocking over an IV stand with nothing on it. Some of the staff stared at him momentarily and the clatter he created. Harry ignored their stairs, running his hands through his hair and pressing his forehead to the wall as he knotted his fingers behind his head. The onlookers continued about their business.

The paperwork was going to be brutal. He was certain he would be fired. Worse, he felt he deserved it. It was the least that should happen to him because he basically broke the one rule he was expected to follow: he let something happen to her. Something that he should have seen and prevented before it hurt her.

There was a gentle tap on his arm. He turned his head from the wall. “You can see her now,” the nurse said softly.

Harry wasn’t stupid. He knew only family or emergency contacts were allowed to see her, neither of which he was. He probably should call her father. How was he supposed to have that conversation? Regardless, he knew she wouldn’t want to see him. Not after that. No matter how forgiving she seemed once he let her walk on her own.

“M’sure I’m the last person she wants t’see,” he admitted. “And m’not family.”

The nurse shrugged and looked at the tablet in her hand again and then looked back up at him. “Harry, right? It says you’re her emergency contact.” She held out the tablet to show him that it was Harry’s name and number under the emergency contact information bubbles. The word ‘friend’ was written as the descriptor for relationship.

He sighed, feeling a larger obligation to her. Although he wasn’t sure it was right for him, after she got hurt on his watch. “Is she alright?” He asked rubbing the back of his head.

“Yes, thanks to you. You saved her. These kinds of things don’t usually have such a bright ending,” she nodded with a smile. She reminded him of a mum. Her kind, gentle encouraging words. She opened the door to the room and gestured for him to enter.

Harry slipped quietly in the door. She looked as if she was sleeping, like when she fell asleep on her couch in the middle of one of their movies without Harry noticing and he had to pretend he hadn’t already seen half the movie without her. There was a tube of oxygen flowing into her nose, her head was slumped to the side. An IV still in her arm. God, Harry hated it; hated that this happened to her and he couldn't stop it in time.

“We’re going to keep her overnight just to make sure it all clears her system. But she’ll be fine. And it’s really a much better scenario than what typically happens.”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. Rubbing his hand over his face he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Can I get you a drink?” She asked.

“Please. Thank you, ma’am,” he said politely. She hurried to do that and then left them alone.

Harry once more watched her sleepy figure. He was so used to this, as he had told Niall. Most of his job was watching her sleep. The number of times he stood vigilant while she slept amidst her textbooks and a coffee cup nearly spilling out of her hand. She looked so peaceful. When she wasn’t arguing or yelling at him. But right now was different, and he hated watching her sleep. He wanted her to be awake, yelling at him or furiously telling him that Rachael Leigh Cook and Natalie Portman were not the same people.

She’s safe, she’s okay, and she’ll be alright. He repeated it to himself like a mantra as he watched her dream-struck face. He hoped she was having a good dream. Hoped that the night wasn’t on her mind and that she felt safe again.

He scooted himself forward in the chair so that he was closer to the bed. He didn’t like the angle her head was tilted. Carefully, he pressed his hand to the side of her neck and gently moved her, so she was more evenly centered against the pillow. On top of everything else, he didn’t want her to strain her neck. She sighed softly; almost as if she melted into his touch. Harry felt the first bout of relief since they left the bar. He breathed out his own sigh. He propped his head in his other hand, gazing at her, his elbow resting on the edge of her bed.

He held her head up in that position the whole night.

She was quiet and groggy as he drove her back home the following morning. Wrapped his arm around her waist carefully and supported her weak frame up the steps to her apartment building. He didn’t let go of her in the elevator or when they were inside her apartment and moreover, she didn't protest. The rage Harry felt was as fierce as it was the night before. The only solace he had was knowing that poor excuse for a man was brought into custody.

Harry was dreading the paperwork he’d have to fill out for this one, but not even because he was annoyed with her. No, not annoyed; instead, he focused all his frustration and worry about caring for her.

She was silent, resting on the couch, her eyes still fluttering as if she needed to sleep more. Harry wouldn't blame her if she fell asleep again. It wasn’t her fault for the fatigue and exhaustion that wracked her body. Harry kind of hoped she would continue to rest for the afternoon. “Was supposed to study,” she mumbled.

“Sorry love; don’t think s’happening this weekend,” he remarked bringing her water and some toast for her stomach. Peanut butter slathered in one thin layer on the slice of bread, just as he had seen her do so many mornings before she headed to class. He sat beside her, holding the plate while she nibbled on her snack and was once more pleased that she didn't protest.

She was too tired to complain or argue or really do anything to torture Harry. Not that she looked for ways to torture him.

But specifically, it was never her intention to get hurt like this, of course. “I'm really sorry, Harry,” she mumbled. “Do you have to do the paperwork for it?” She asked. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promised.

Harry felt a twinge in his chest at her kindness that she was willing to lie on his behalf. That she was apologizing. He smiled sadly, and nodded. “I do, love. But s’okay. And...S’not your fault.”

“I should have listened to you,” she muttered looking down at her toast dejectedly. She messed up so bad. It wasn't supposed to happen like that.

“Love,” he said seriously. “I’ll blame y’till the end of time for you escaping or running away...this though? This is not y’fault,” he promised shaking his head. She frowned and didn’t speak. Her other security members would have blamed her. Because yes, he shouldn’t have spiked her drink. But if she were a pleasant person to watch, obeyed the rules like a lovely little pet, then she wouldn’t have had a sip of her drink to spite Harry and she would have left peacefully. And safely

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Can’t imagine what would happen if...” she trailed off thinking about if she managed to stay. She swallowed thickly, suddenly very frustrated and upset over her own stupidity for letting something like this happen. Letting someone take advantage of her. She should have been more aware. She shouldn’t have let her annoyance cloud her judgment.

“Love, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he promised. “M’sorry this did. Feel like I let y’down.”

She swallowed a piece of her toast realizing that Harry knew to put peanut butter on it, and she felt a bit overcome with emotion. It was sweet that he knew her. Her other agents would never do this for her. They’d make sure she was okay and stay far away from her. “I understand if you want to be reassigned,” she whispered.

He frowned, suddenly taken aback. He put the plate of toast on the coffee table. He rubbed his palms along his thighs. “Y’don’t want me t’be here?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, I do...” she sighed. “But...this is bad, even I know that,” she admitted. “M’sorry. Really truly sorry I didn't listen. I know...I know how seriously you take your job and it wasn't fair to you to have to suffer through that either.”

“S’jus’ paperwork,” he shrugged. She looked up at his face, his green eyes were soft. There was no other way to describe it. He watched her eat and rest. Of course, she knew how much Harry hated paperwork. He moaned and groaned about it from her dining table almost weekly. She wasn’t part of the meetings, but she knew that he would get yelled at for this one. Even if it wasn’t his fault. But...he wanted to stay anyway. "The important thing is you're safe, love."

“You want to stay?” She asked in surprise.

He shrugged then nodded again. “S’long as you want me here.”

She thought Harry was a glutton for punishment, but she liked how nice he was to her. Maybe she would take it easy for a little bit. This really was a lot more than he probably anticipated.

“So...m’your emergency contact?” He asked with a smug little smirk. It made her rethink her kindness only briefly due to the way he looked so pleased with the notion.

For years it had been her father. She had been waiting for someone to come along and take his spot. She could have lied. Said it was always her main agent. It would have been easy to lie but part of her thought Harry would see right through her. “Who am I supposed to put?” She grumbled. “My dad? Fat chance of that.”

He smirked. “Glad I was there,” he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“I think I would have...gone a bit mad if I didn’t...get t’see you,” he explained.

Her lips turned up in a tired smile. Poor thing still weak and groggy. “Sorry you had to carry me, I know I’m not light.”

“S’not even on the top hundred things I was worried ‘bout, love. Y’shouldn’t worry ‘bout that either.”

She felt her face warm a bit and she nodded. “Do...you have to start the paperwork right away? Or can we finish our movie?”

He glanced at his watch and nodded. “I can spare the time t'finish the movie.”

Harry got the reaming of a lifetime. She wasn’t privy to it, nor heard any detail of it. But she could tell from the way Harry hardly spoke to her. He even tried really hard not to yell at her while she did stupid things like leave a candle burning while she napped. Or reached into the sink to get the spoon that fell in the garbage disposal. Or when she didn’t look at the active ingredients of her cleaning supplies while washing her shower down and got lightheaded.

He didn’t seem all that fazed though, and it kinda ruined her typical annoying fun with him even if she was taking it easier on him. Still, she wasn’t so heartless to recognize this was a job for Harry. She recognized how bad it was that something like this happened. Especially for Harry. But even so, because it was the first time that she ever found herself without control over herself. Her life was literally in Harry’s hands, and even if she didn’t know until after, she trusted that she would be okay anyway simply because Harry was there. Even if he was part of her detested security detail.

She was standing in the middle of her sitting room with the book from her shelf. She placed her mug of tea on the coffee table and pretended to read the back of her book with feigned interest. Glancing at Harry, staring at his computer, she wondered what was said or what he was told he had to do. He wasn’t even typing or moving the mouse, so she knew he was simply ignoring her. They hadn’t watched a movie in a week. “How much paperwork do you have to do if I die or something?”

His gaze flicked to her and then turned back to his screen--still no typing. “S’not funny, love,” he rolled his eyes. She liked the eye roll. That was the most interaction she had with him in a week. The most reaction she got out of him in a week.

“I’m genuinely asking.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “A lot, probably.”

She nodded. “Why?”

“You’re not supposed to die. Not while m’here. If you die, then I didn’t do m’job t’protect you. S’protocol.”

God, she hated that word. “That’s hardly fair.” She frowned. Harry noted her distaste seemed serious. “You have a mom and a sister who would be devastated if something happened to you—especially on behalf of me.”

He blinked at her curiously. He hadn’t ever mentioned his family around her. He was surprised she even knew he had a sister. She rolled her eyes at him as he tried to flesh through all their conversations to see when he slipped up. “You’re not the only one that can do a background check. You should really put a middle name on your social media instead of your last name. Makes it a little harder to find you. Don’t know very many Harry Styles around these parts.”

He smirked. She was pretty cute when she was a know-it-all.

“Finally. I thought my material was worsening,” she flung herself back on the couch. “I don’t know what they said to you, but can you just come over here so we can watch a movie? I feel like they forgot you were the one that got me out of that mess. I don’t think it’s fair they yelled at you because I was being a brat. Suddenly now they think I would listen? That’s on them more than anything,” she said assuredly.

Harry seemed to be having some kind of internal battle over by his computer. She began reading the first couple pages of her book while Harry tried to work through whatever it was that was bothering him before his resolve seemed to crumble, and he took his place on the other sofa. She closed her book.

“What are they like?”

“Who?” He asked. He bounced his knee with what appeared to be a bout of nervous energy. She wished she could reach out and still it. She didn’t want him to be nervous. Despite everything and all the reasons she didn’t like DSS, she really liked Harry. He shoved his hands into his front pockets.

“Anne and Gemma,” she smiled impishly. Harry chuckled because it was funny, she really did do her own little background check. He would have to view his social media profiles from his work laptop and see what he could find out about himself. See what she saw.

“They’re lovely women,” he said with a shrug. “My best friends, probably. Not much t’say.”

“Of course, they’re lovely,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re lovely. But what do they do? What are they like?”

“I’m lovely?” His knee stopped shaking. His eyes were so very green as he looked at her awaiting her response.

She glanced at him nervously--not because she was nervous around him...but because he was Harry. If Harry ever left she would have to have a serious chat with whoever decided the person in charge of her protection should be close in age to her. It was not good for her psyche. Or if he was going to be close in age, he couldn't be as hot as Harry. It was very unfair. “Well. Yeah. Not…many people put up with a spoiled brat like me. Even when they’re forced to.”

“Spoiled is not how I would describe you,” he shook his head. She didn’t respond and continued staring at him so she wouldn’t turn into mush at the barely there compliment he gave her. “Gemma is very sweet and funny. Intelligent. You would probably be best friends with her. If it wasn’t for escaping—Gemma is a good-two-shoes. She’s a writer—really into mental health. Mum would like all the flowers y’have. She works for a non-profit for domestic violence. She would probably want t’braid y’hair the way she braids Gemma’s. Gemma can’t cook—or she shouldn’t. Mum let me do most of the cooking. They crochet together a lot now these days. Every Wednesday night they get together t’have tea on the porch and crochet. They’re always sending new designs in our group chat.”

Her heart felt so warm as she listened to the adoration falling from Harry’s lips for the women in his life. She wished she had a sibling.

Or a mom.

...Or a Harry.

That sounded adorable.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @daphnesutton @kathb59 @be-with-me-so-happily @narry-heart @cherryshouse

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

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yourantag · 11 months

Text

Glass Heart (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: I love me my different perspectives. So, here is the Ithaqua POV/continuation of "Paper Stars." It comes with the last of my sanity :) Word count: 2.5k words Summary: He can't love you. He said it specifically that way because it would be a lie if he ever said that he didn't love you. Ithaqua could never not love you. Even when he loves you enough to make his glass heart shatter, he won't stop. Even as he cuts his fingers putting it back together, he can't stop loving you, just as he can't love you.

When he first met you, Ithaqua's first thought was simple.

'Ugh, a stunner.'

Certainly not the most romantic thought in the world, but he is a hunter after all. Besides, you made the match quite difficult with your abilities, so could you really blame him?

Despite his annoyance, Ithaqua (begrudgingly) respected your skills. You hadn't been at the manor long, barely having arrived before him, yet you had already seemingly mastered your abilities and understood the game well. It made him a bit curious, since most who entered the manor fumbled at the start. Such high adaptive capabilities matched with a kind heart and intelligent mind rarely appeared naturally.

Besides that, this was Oletus manor. No one who came here, willingly or unwillingly, was truly normal. They were unfortunate, greedy, foolish, or naive, if not all at once usually. Their stories, which they seldom shared, were one's that people could only say are pitiful, really.

So, what are you? Another greedy soul who wished for gold, glory, and more? Perhaps you were someone seeking repentance for their past sins, or a way to forget them? Were you seeking closure from the loss of a loved one? Or, maybe, you were here for revenge?

Interestingly, as he came to get to know you, he found that you weren’t any of them at all. You had come to the manor to find yourself, as you had lost most of your memories due to a horrible accident.

"It's weird." You had said. "Being surrounded by people who apparently know me, yet I don't know them much, if at all. They keep telling me I should like this or hate that, but... that's not who I am now. I guess what I wanted most was to know who I was before, not to become them, but to understand. Understand who it is they miss. It's weird to miss someone who's right in front of you, but in a way, the old me died that day, and now, I'm here. Shouldn't I at least try to be empathetic to those who were close to me?"

It's stupid, he thinks, that those close to you hurt you, ripping you apart to find any shred of the "you" they once knew. Certainly, it's heartbreaking to have someone you love forget you, but hurting them won't bring back their memories. Ithaqua can't understand why they would rather mourn the you that's gone than to love the you that's here now. Instead of thinking about all the memories you had lost, it would be better to treasure the time they had with you and make new ones.

Perhaps it's just human nature to be stuck in the past, to mourn what they had, to lust for more than they need.

Regardless, Ithaqua found that you were lovely just the way you were. Even as pieces of your memories came back, as you started to grow more aware of your habits and why you did them, you were still you. You shared with him sometimes the memories that came back, smiling as you fiddled with another paper star you made.

"A friend once told me that if I make a thousand paper stars, I can get a wish fulfilled!"

"Well then, I suppose you'll get that wish quite soon. You've been making those absent-mindedly for quite a while."

You had smiled, a proud one that lit up your whole face. You proclaimed you would make a thousand jars of a thousand paper stars. After all, a thousand stars for a wish seems quite cheap, even if this is all superstition.

Whenever Ithaqua remembers that moment, he can't help but smile. Such determination for something you weren't even sure was going to work. Childish, yet that flickering hope was too brilliant for him to willingly extinguish. So, he didn't, watching and sometimes even helping to grow your collection of stars.

Many years passed, and as the days flew by, Ithaqua couldn't quite hide the feelings that had started to take root in his chest. They were beautiful and complicated, making him lose his cool and fumble where he usually wouldn't. They were odd, they were powerful, and they were so painfully human.

Ithaqua didn't think he was capable of being human again before he met you.

His glass heart, once perfect and whole, had shattered the same day his mother was ripped away from him. With that, all of his reason and humanity had left him. Ithaqua became a monster that hunted down everyone who dared hurt his mother, was even remotely involved. It didn't matter who they were; for as long as they assisted in hurting him and his family, they were dead.

Yet, as revenge tends to do, it left him empty and cold once he had acquired it. The flames of anger and hatred quietly burned out as all that remained was sorrow. Beneath his desire for vengeance was a boy who simply wanted his mother back. However, lost lives could never come back, and even if they could, Ithaqua didn't know if he had the courage to look his mother in the eye after all he had done.

When he had told you this, his sins laid bare before your eyes, you hugged him. No fear touched you, nor did any feelings of hatred or disgust. If anything, you looked like you were in pain. It was the first time in his life Ithaqua ever experienced someone being angry on his behalf, who saw who he was and sought to understand rather than to judge.

Perhaps his sins were unforgivable, he knew they weren't one's he could easily cleanse, but when you held him and told him you loved him regardless, he felt that he'd do whatever it takes to be forgiven. Ithaqua thought that, if he repented and were one day forgiven, he would then at least have the right to one day tell you how much he loved you. Would you wait until that day? His heart made of glass, fragile as ever, felt like it healed at the mere thought.

However, life isn't so kind as to offer you the time to do all that you wish. It marches on ruthlessly and takes with it people, places, and memories.

It was an accident, but he overheard it.

"I can't wait to leave the manor."

Of course you would want to leave. Ithaqua would never hold it against you to want to leave. After all, for as long as you resided within the manor, the chances of you being pulled into a match was practically 100%. It was better if you left the manor.

Yet, he forgot one crucial detail.

One day, you will be able to leave the manor. Ithaqua, however, would never be able to leave the manor, not alive at least. Hunters were those who were long dead, immortal, or the like. Ithaqua was someone who was both mortal yet immortal, therefore unable to leave. Hunters could only leave either by moving on to the afterlife or by going to their special realms. Therefore, Ithaqua would never quite be able to stand by your side no matter what he chose to become.

It was a terrible truth, one only he would know. The other hunters would say it'd be fine if they knew, but he felt it was not. The only way for the two of you to be together is if you stayed in the manor, and that isn't something either or you want. Ithaqua could never ask you to suffer so he could keep you by his side. He would rather live his life without you if it means you'd be happy.

He loves you. He can't help but love you. But if it means you'll suffer, he can't love you. Ithaqua refuses to be the reason you suffer, even if it means breaking his glass heart with his own hands.

So, he starts acting as if he's blind and deaf. Ithaqua is by no means an idiot, nor is he oblivious, but he can certainly pretend he is. Even as you stare at him with love and adoration, even as you grow more comfortable with him, even as you clearly show that you're in love with him as much as he is with you, he can't. Though his heart beats for you, his mind will not allow it to do anything beyond that.

He wants to hold you, press his hands into your cheeks and watch you flounder in confusion, wants to kiss words of affection onto every inch of your skin until you realize that you are loved, but he cannot.

Ithaqua can't love you, yet he can't stop loving you. He knows this is hurting you just like it's hurting him, but what else can he do? He can't let you know the truth, he knows you'd certainly stay if you did. That is the worst case scenario, truly. So, to protect you, he must hurt you.

How cruel.

The cruelest thing, however, is how the marching of time finally comes to knock on his door, informing him his time with you is over. You are to leave him in barely a day.

The first feeling that bubbles up is relief. You'll finally be free, you'll finally be safe. He says he's happy for you when you tell him, and he means it. It's only once you leave that the other feelings boil over.

Grief, longing, anger, and pain. They overwhelm him from the inside out, crushing his poor, poor heart as he weather's the storm of his emotions. For a moment, a moment of intense weakness, Ithaqua considers asking you to stay. To ask you to stay by him and don't leave him please don't leave him he'll do anything just please-

But he knows he can't.

When you finally leave, when he feels you slip from his grasp like sand slipping through fingers, he has to stop himself from reaching out. Ithaqua can only let himself mourn as he has lost the person he has loved the most once again, this time truly and wholly due to himself.

Then, he discovers the messages. Well, more like memos. He breaks apart star after star, reading sentence upon sentence, forming what he can only describe as the most terribly beautiful thing he's ever seen. Each star marks the feelings you felt, the Ithaqua you saw and loved.

It's painful. So, so very painful, to see through your eyes who he was and how much you loved him. A galaxy of "I love you's" you never said, confessions and prayers littering a milky way formed from stardust and dedication. The heart crushing mess that tore you up inside as you tried to contain it longer and longer, forming paper stars in its wake. The only remnants of you, the only proof of your pain and affection.

Then, he remembers.

"I'll make a thousand jars of a thousand paper stars. I'll fill loads of bottles and jars, put them everywhere in my room, and get a wish! What do you think, Ithaqua?"

Never in his life was Ithaqua more glad to have the wind at his beck and call.

He ran down halls, climbed up stairs, and passed seemingly millions of windows and doors. The whistling of the whipping wind seemed to beckon him, begging him to run faster. He wound around corners, barely missing the remaining hunters and survivors, before finally, at last, he arrived at his destination.

Your room.

As he lifts his hand up to open the door, he hesitates. Ithaqua rests his hand on the handle, pursing his lips as he wonders if this is a good idea. Certainly, knowing everything that you felt will bring him more pain. It will bring him closure, perhaps, but truly, nothing could be worth the heartache he'll feel.

However, turning away now would be the same as turning away from you. He'd be turning away from the truth, from the fact that he had a chance with you, yet was too cowardly to try and keep you by his side, to make it work somehow. Even if the world is not ideal, when it's for the person you love, you can compromise and make almost anything happen.

So, he opens the door, finding it much emptier than the last time he visited. Photos and clothes, little knick knacks and trinkets that once filled your room are missing, taking with it the feel of home. All that remains are the bare furniture and the bottles and jars of paper stars.

It started slowly, Ithaqua opening the containers on your table. Then, mere moments later, he was opening hundreds upon hundreds of jars, bottle after bottle, pouring out the universe and its secrets upon the table as he opened star upon star. Depending on how long you had been at the manor when creating them, the feelings differed, as did the colors.

Frantically, desperately, Ithaqua read through the fine texts, each word stabbing into him worse than the last. The first stars he had read from were the most recent. The further back in time he went, the less hopeless, pained, and tearful they were. The further he went back, the more lovesick your words became.

"Today, Ithaqua tripped and fell like a baby fawn on ice. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen, yet somehow he still managed to look attractive while doing so. This is absolutely unfair!"

"With eyes like the abyss, hair like platinum, and a smile both mischievous and kind, Ithaqua is someone even Aphrodite can't help but adore."

"I didn't think I'd ever fall in love at first sight, but when it's someone with witty humor, the most charming laugh, and heartwarming nature, how could I not? Ithaqua is akin to what love-struck poets would write sonnets about."

Ithaqua is drowning in affection, the night sky within his hands suffocating him with each earnest whisper of love. Like prayers upon the wind, sweet and sincere and so very innocent, they tell him every word of worship that had passed through your mind, forming sentences upon sentences on delicate paper.

His shoulders shake and shiver, his hands crumpling paper despite his best efforts. Tears fall with renewed vigor, as though the ones he'd shed when you left hadn't happened at all. The ache in his chest hurts in a way he never thought possible, burning yet cold, numb yet all too much.

For the third time in his life, Ithaqua feels his heart shatter.

He begs and he pleads under his breath, sobs breaking through his words while one hand clutches where his heart should be. Ithaqua grits his teeth as he thinks of all that could've been, of all that had happened, the pain he'd given to both you and him when it could've been love instead.

Throughout his breakdown, Ithaqua can't help but wonder if, instead of taking matters into his own hands, instead of not giving you a choice, instead of sabotaging himself, if he had loved you earnestly as himself, unabashedly, could things have been different? If he had asked you to stay, if he threw away his pride and asked like a priest on their knees, begging at the altar, could you have loved him now as he loves you?

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #identity v fanfic #idv fanfic

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shhh-secret-time · 5 months

Note

Can we please get some Poly Tweek and Craig? I'm so down bad for those two! Something spicy maybe? Love your stuff so far.

Oho~! This was was a little tricky to write but I enjoyed it! I do love those boys!

Warning: Dirty Talk, Blowjobs, Improper use of icing, Strong Language, NSFW

Pairing: Craig x F!Reader x Tweek

"She's gonna kill us man! Ack! Don't just sit there and eat the icing!"

"Why not? We're not using it."

"Dude! Just help me clean this!"

"Calm down honey, I am helping."

The two bickering back and forth brought a smile to your lips. Craig's monotone responses contrasted Tweek's rising panic, earning a little giggle. From the corner of your eye, you could see their shadows from the kitchen, watching Tweek's scurrying around frantically trying to clean whatever mess they made. You haven't walked into the kitchen yet, in fact you just got home. Calling out that you were home fell on deaf ears as the two were so engaged in their little argument.

Tweek's shadow was getting larger as he made his way out of the kitchen. Coming into view, you got a better look at him. He was covered in sprinkles and icing, the blue stars and little sugary delights stuck in his crazy blond hair. The white vanilla smelling icing clung to his cheeks slightly smeared across the pale flesh.

Where there was one the other was sure to follow, Craig following him with a pleased look in his eyes. Over time you learned how to read the tall blank faced man, learning that it was all in his eyes. And right now, his eyes held such childlike excitement, as he gazed upon Tweek's frustrated face. He wasn't as covered as Tweek was, but his blue hoodie had white powder all over the front of it, you guess he refused to wear the aprons Tweek owned, and his clothes paid the price for it.

"Where are you going babe?"

"What do you- what do you mean where am I going!? To wash this crap off! Since you didn't want to help with the kitchen you-" Tweek stopped in his tracks at Craig's question, turning to face him he hissed in frustration.

Tweek only stopped when he saw you standing in the corner of the living room. His eyes widened in surprise like he was caught in some horrible act. To Tweek this was a horrible act, his anxiety was screaming at him that the messy kitchen was going to make you blow up.

But it was the exact opposite, you were giggling and covering your mouth at how adorable they both looked. Craig stood there with a bored expression and Tweek twitching causing sprinkles to fall from his hair and onto the floor.

"Did you guys have fun?” You asked through your giggle fit.

"Yeah."

"N-No!"

You could only laugh again, shaking your head at your boys. Closing the distance between the two of them, you reached up and began picking the sprinkles from Tweek’s hair. You could hear his breath hitch as you pulled one off his cheek, stuck because of the icing, and popped it into your mouth. The little blue star melting on your tongue.

"Hmm~ lemme guess, cupcakes?"

"Hnng, y-yes! Craig and I thought... thought you were looking stressed recently, so we wanted to make you cupcakes!" Tweek explained through grunts and squeaks. His fingers were flexing until they found purchase on his sweater vest.

Craig only nodded along with his boyfriend, but he liked the idea you had and as Tweek spoke he picked a sprinkle off his cheek. When he popped it in his mouth Tweek's body tensed and shivered.

"Awh... guys that's so sweet! So, what happened?" You giggled again watching Tweek shoot a glare at Craig.

"Tweek freaked out because he couldn't get the cap open, fell back and the icing fell on him." Craig's responded faster than Tweek this time, the monotone voice cutting him off.

"Yeah, that sounds about right, but hey it's the thought that counts! Thank you!" You responded with a little shrug and a warm smile.

"Oh, the cupcakes still got made, they'll be done in a bit." Craig pulled his hand back when Tweek delivered a firm slap on his hand.

"N-now Craig and I are going to clean the kitchen a-and ourselves!" Tweek gestured to himself and Craig with a sigh.

"Oh~? Are you trying to tell me this isn't part of my little gift?" Your purr sent a shiver straight down Tweek's spine, a deep blush creeping across his face.

"H-hng no! I-I mean- it could be?"

Laughing at his reaction, you pressed your lips against his cheeks. The dried vanilla delight coming in contact with your lips made you hum. Your tongue darting out to collect the sweet icing that was already beginning to melt across your tastebuds. Tweek's body flinched in response, the feeling of your tongue gliding across his cheek pulling out a shaky moan.

"Hm~ did you offer Craig a bite? All of this can't just be for me." Your voice dipped to a sultry whisper as you finished cleaning off his face.

Your hot breath brushing against the shell of his ear made him whine out. Craig's chuckle now much closer than it had been a minute ago, Tweek could feel his breath fanning down his neck. Pressing an open tongue kiss into Tweek's skin, Craig bit down on the soft flesh. The sharp pain on his neck was quick but enough to make Tweek moan out.

"G-guys please." You smirked at the sound of his begging, which Craig mirrored.

"Ain't he sweet? Taste so good~"

"He does. Messy and sweet." Craig peppered kisses up Tweek's neck with a hum, Tweek's head tilting back in response. "Always a messy boy."

You hummed in response as your hands slid down Tweek's waist tugging on the belt loops. Following Craig's lead, you began pressing kisses on the other side of Tweek's neck down towards his shoulder.

Tweek's head was spinning from the sensation of both of his lovers assaulting his neck. His breathing becoming erratic at the love bites, the dark red marks Craig left behind and the teeth marks you were pressing into his flesh. Not to mention the way your hands were inching dangerously close to the button on his pants, your fingertips disappearing past the hem of his pants.

"Craaaaig, did you really not help clean the kitchen?" Your tone suddenly rang out, the warning making Craig stop and groan.

"I... ate the icing out of the bowl?" He muttered into Tweek's skin.

"Oh baby, that's not very responsible of you. I don't think you deserve this Tweek treat." Your hands cupped Tweek's hips to tug him away from Craig, who's brows furrowed.

Before he could protest Tweek let out a shaky sigh and wrapped his arms around you, immediately nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Just relieved that he could finally catch his breath, but more so that you were on his side.

"Why don't you sit down while I help Tweek get the rest of the kitchen cleaned up?" Taking Tweek by the hand, you lead him towards the kitchen.

Craig pressed his lips together in a thin line, if the way you said that didn't make his cock throb in response he'd be pissed. Leaning against the doorway, he crossed his arms and watched as you gently pushed Tweek back against the island counter. Tweek's eyes were wide as he watched you grab the bowl of icing, there was enough left to execute your little plan. His mouth went dry as he looked at Craig, the dark green of his eyes almost black with lust.

So preoccupied with the way Craig was staring the both of you down, he gasped when the cold air of the kitchen brushed across his exposed cock. His eyes flew down to your form, already sunk down to your knees with the little pink of your tongue sticking out. You had his pants down by his thighs, along with his underwater, his mind racing at how easily you could mold him. He was puddy in your hands and you knew it. You loved it even. You had a power over the both of them, it wasn't like Craig listened to just anyone. Someone with the kind of power to keep the stoic man by the doorway, someone with the kind of power to make his cock bob at the mere sight of you on your knees.

"Relax Coffee Bean, I'm gonna reward you for being so good. But I'm going to make you all messy again, okay? Continue to be a good boy and let me taste you." Tweek nodded at your command, his head shaking up and down vigorously. Anything you wanted; he would give. He'd give it all.

You smiled up at him as your fingers began collecting the sticky sweet icing in the bowl. Tweek felt his chest tighten when you began smearing the icing down his shaft. Just as he was about to squirm from the feeling of the thick cream on his cock, the feeling was replaced with your mouth around his cock. You started off slowly taking your time with the cute blond, your tongue swirling around the bright red tip. Each time he bucked against your mouth you had to resist the urge to giggle, he was trying so hard to not thrust his cock down your throat. He was already a twitching mess, but the incredible feeling of your mouth around his cock made it worse.

It didn't help that you could feel Craig's piercing gaze, watching you intently bob your head up and down; the icing smeared across your lips. Your hands trailed up the inside of Tweek's thighs, squeezing and holding on as if they were your last lifeline. Poor thing couldn't take it anymore, his hand flew down to your hair gripping the locks as he rocked into your mouth. Salty and sweet flavor pushed further down your tongue as slick pre-cum coated your tongue. Tweek felt his body tense up as he chased his release, losing rhythm the closer he got to his climax.

"I'm-I'm gonna cum, please let me cum! Please, please!" Whimpers and cries turned to begging that was separated by heavy panting, Tweek felt like his chest was about to explode.

Unable to pull away from his assault you gave his thighs a firm squeeze, letting him know it was okay to let go. A hum from your throat vibrating up into his cock made him throw his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head. That was when you felt the salty liquid shoot down the back of your throat and your nose forcibly pressed against his stomach. Tweek's cries slurred to moans as he gripped the side of your head trying to anchor himself to you. Eventually, when he calmed down, he slowly pulled his member from your mouth. His hand shakily trying to message any discomfort from your scalp. You smiled and nuzzled your face into his hand as your swallowed down the rest of his cum.

"There we go, you did so good for me Tweek." You cooed happily, rising to your feet.

Using Tweek to stable yourself, you slid your hands up and down his chest feeling the loud thumping in his chest. Your smile died as a human shaped shadow was cast over the both of you. You knew what was coming, Craig didn't take teasing well if at all. The fact that he patiently watched you for this long was a miracle in itself. Rough hands, contrasting Tweek's gentle touch, grabbed at your waist forcing you back against his stiff member. You almost felt bad for the man by the feeling of it through his jeans alone it must have been painful, but any pity was thrown out the window when you felt him lift you up and press you against Tweek.

Normally Craig would have chuckled at the squeak that left your lips, enjoying the fact that you were suddenly so shy at the way he manhandled you, but right now the only thing on his mind was getting back at you. It wasn't fair that they could have a full conversation with their eyes and body language alone and it certainly wasn't fair that Tweek was so quick to betray you. His slender fingers fumbled with the button of your pants, once they were popped open Craig's fingers hooked into the waistband of them and practically shoved them down. With a frustrated huff he wouldn't bother giving your underwear the same patience, tearing them off with a snap. You yelped as you felt Tweek's hands grip your arms to hold you up and your feet no longer touching the ground.

In the back of your mind, you knew neither would do anything to really hurt you, but the way Craig looked at you made you feel like prey. And when he leaned forward, bending your body until you were smashed up against Tweek's chest, you knew you were in for it. His hot breath brushing against your skin as his voice dipped dangerously low, the kind you could feel in his chest as he spoke.

"Remember that I love you honey, because I'm going to fucking destroy you like I don't." The man pressed a sweet kiss into your cheek like he didn't just promise your downfall.

Your eyes widened up at Tweek who only gave you a smile in return, sickly sweet like he was enjoying this. The little traitor. When Tweek's hand caressed your face and he pressed a kiss onto your lips you should have known he was distracting you. Distracting you from Craig but from the way the tip of his cock drug across your wet folds there would be no ignoring him. Craig's arm hooked under your leg stretching your thighs until you were spread open perfectly for him.

You heard him click his tongue and then without missing a beat his cock slammed into you. The thick member shoving past your folds and immediately meeting that oh so delicious spot. Feeling Tweek smirk against your lips as you tried to cry out in pleasure, you swore you were already seeing stars. For as quick as Craig was going about bullying your insides, Tweek kept his kisses slow. While one was treating you like glass the other left bruises on your skin. Soft gentle kisses, tasting himself and that icing on you, peppering his lips on yours repeatedly; every time he pulled away you let out moan after moan.

"Fuck, the way your walls are clenching around me. You like this don't you? Like when I fuck you like this?" Craig wasn't usually so verbal but something about you and Tweek pulled something out of him. Maybe it was the way your walls clenched around his cock, fluttering at the way his voice got ragged. Maybe it was because he was addicted and finally getting his fix after you thought you could deny him. "Fuck of course you'd get wet from that, trying to choke my cock sweetheart?"

He stood back at his full height, no longer hunched over you to whisper filth in your ear. No, he was focused now. The shift was unbelievable. He went from short rough thrusts, rutting against you like a mad man, to calculated long strikes. His tempo didn't slow, if anything with your cunt sucking him further in it only encouraged him to speed up. Beads of sweat traced patterns over your skin, your arousal making it easier for him to keep up his pace. Tweek watched as you came undone around Craig's cock, felt your body tense up in his arms and your back arching. Tweek's fingers slipped down from your arms to your clit circling the pads of his fingertips around your aching clit, clear cum coating his fingers.

With your walls fluttering around his cock, Craig felt his release creeping closer and closer. He wanted to try and hold out to pull another out of you, Tweek already overstimulating you from his fingers, but he couldn't. Not when you felt so good around him, like you were made for him. After a few more slam of his hips, his cock pulsed and released deep inside of you. His cum painting the inside of your walls, filling your insides until you were stuffed and dripping.

For a few moments the three of you basked in the glow of each other, the sound of trying to catch your breath and Craig coming down from his high. Ever so slowly he pulled his softening member from your core, setting you down gently. When your legs failed to hold you up Tweek wrapped his arms around you. Gently placing you on the counter, he took a step back to help you both get cleaned up. Somehow the flour on Craigs clothes flew off and clung to your sweaty skin, the sprinkles from Tweek stuck to your thighs and shoulders. Instead of getting clean, now all three of you were a sticky sweaty mess.

Ding

“Cupcakes are done.”

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d34dg1rl5 · 2 months

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Fog engulfes your vision. You turn around frantically as you try to see something. After a while the fog slowly disappears and you find yourself standing in the middle of a corn field. "What the... Where the fuck am I?"

The sky is bright... It's almost unnatural looking. In the distance you could see a farm house, but from the looks of it it's pretty run down. You decide to take a look at it.

After arriving at the farm house you step inside only to be greeted with a horrible smell of rotten meat. In the kitchen there is a barrel filled with intestines. You turn away covering your mouth and coughing violently. What the actual fuck is going on here?? Suddenly you hear a blood curdling scream not too far away from the house.

You take a peek out of the window and see a person hanging on - a meat hook?! Quickly you run towards the person. A girl, around your age. She whimpers in pain and you carefully take her down. She whinces. "Thank-" Her eyes go wide as she looks at you. "Oh no..." You look at her with a questioning look. "What's going on here? Who are you?? And why were you hanging on that hook?? Are you alright??"

The woman looks at you. "I'll explain everything to you, but first we need to find a safe spot. Come with me!" She limps away leaving big red blood puddles behind. You follow her. After a while you are in what seems to be an old shack. Inside are lockers and a hay fork and a big machine. The woman looks at you. "Alright listen. You need to heal me." "Heal you? How?" "Just. Move your hands around on my back." You do as she says and after a minute the woman is fully healed again. "What did I just do?? Do I have superpowers or what?"

"First things first. Thanks for healing me... My name is Kate Denson. First off. That thing here." She points at the machine. "You need to repair it. In total there are five of those which need to be repaired. Then the exit gates can be opened and you can flee."

You look at Kate. "Flee? Are we being chased?" Kate sighs. "You're right. There is a killer who is trying to kill us as we are trying to get out of here." Your eyes widen. You can't believe what you just heard. "A-a killer?? What do you mean?! Is this some kind of sick joke?? I want to go home!!" Kate grabs your shoulders and looks at you. "You CAN'T go home, okay?! You're stuck here, and I don't want you go be sacrificed on your first trial!! You need to do as I say and try to survive, okay?!"

This was all too much. You were stuck in a weird world, saving a woman hanging from a meat hook and now you're supposed to not get killed by a killer?? You exhale. "Okay... I am trying to calm down right now... Who is the killer anyways?" Kate crosses her arms. "It's Ghostface." Did you just hear right? Ghostface? From the Scream Franchise??

"Uh... What? I am confused. Is this some kind of very serious LARP you're doing here?" Kate shakes her head. "No, I'm being serious right now! Please, you just need to listen to me and do as I instruct okay?"

She kneels down next to the machine. "That's a generator, try repairing it with me." You look at the machine and slowly kneel down as well, starting to repair it. But soon you fuck up, the gen explodes and your hands get electro shocked slightly. You hop back and rub your hand. You walk over to Kate only to find that she is gone. "Kate?"

"This is seriously bullshit. I am not part in this roleplay. I am just trying to find the exit!", you say loudly to no one in particular.

You step out of the shack and walk around as you turn around a wooden wall just to bump into someone hard making you fall. "Ugh... Fuck." You look up and see a perfect cosplay of Ghostface in front of you. "Damn... Y'all are taking this LARP really fucking serious huh? I just saw your friend Kate in that shack, she thinks I am all part of this Roleplay. Which I'm not... So where's the exit?"

Ghostface looks at you and laughs. "Oh yeah, the exit needs to be powered with electricity. You need to repair generators-" "Oh actually? I thought Kate was lying... And five in total?" Ghostface nods. "Excactly.. Did she also tell you about the killer?" "Yes, you. And I gotta be honest. That's a bomb Ghostface cosplay like. Did you make this yourself?" Ghostface laughs again. "You could say it like that. I put a lot of ... Effort into this outfit." He wraps an arm around your shoulder. "Go back to the shack and stay there until you hear the accoustic signal. It's a sign that the exit gates are ready to be opened. Then you find one of the gates and push the lever down. It will open then."

You look at him. "Okay, and the others will also escape? And then the LARP is over, right? Because everyone seems to be toouch in character right now, and I gotta be honest - it's kinda scary." You chuckle and Ghostface looks at you. "It is, isn't it?"

He sends you on your way and disappears in the corn field.

After what seems to be an eternity the accoustic signal could be heard. Quickly you step out of the shack looking for an exit gate. It's giant and you pull the lever as you hear footsteps coming closer. You turn around and see a man with blonde hair and pretty well dressed too. "You must be the new one. I'm Felix. Richter." "Aren't you a little to old for LARPing?" Felix looks at you with a confused look. "What's LARPing?" Soon another person joins you. Another male, and he looks even older than Felix. He greets you and you eye him suspiciously. His skin has blue shining strikes on it. The man introduces himself as Vittorio Toscano. A weird bunch of people, truly.

The exit gate is open by now and Felix and Vittorio run outside in a hurry.

You stay at the gate as an arm wraps around your shoulder once more. "Heh, you better get outside while you can, doll."

You look up and see Ghostface looking down at you. "Yeah, I think I am going to do excactly that right now..." He nods.

Just before you escape this giant LARP you hear the man laugh again.

"You're really funny for a survivor. And I think I owe you an explanation. This is in fact not a LARP. This is 100% real. Four survivors vs. one killer. I have to kill you guys before you're able to escape. But not today. As it's your first round. Have fun, the others will explain everything to you. I hope I'll see you again~"

And with that he pushed you outside, just in time as the timer was about to run out.

#headcanons #imagine #x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #fanficiton #dead by daylight headcanons #dbd ghostface x reader #dbd imagines #dbd ghostface #ghostface #dbd scenario #dbd headcanons #dbd fanart #dbd survivor #dbd killer #dbd fluff #dbd killers x reader #dbd trial

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wintervalewritersecond · 1 year

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siren song vi - xavier thorpe

masterlist

requested: yes! requests: open!

a/n: this might be the last part of siren song! i am still debating if i will make one last one, just to see what the new 'normal' is (also because im pretty sure xavier and reader never shared a kiss before and they deserve it by now). thank you so much for the love on this fic and my other works, i appreciate it so much! i hope you enjoy this part and i will see you in the next one!

wordcount: 3.289 warnings: she/her reader, angst, injuries, act like wednesday isn't in the gif, cursing

You had gotten Xavier out of jail and got your memories back. But, at what cost?

You had a restless night. How could you sleep in a comfortable and warm bed, knowing that Xavier was stuck in a cold prison cell? People think he is some horrible monster, yet you know better. There is no possible way that he is the monster.

It is early in the morning when you walk down the stairs and toward the Quad. You are already dressed in the uniform, not wanting to go back upstairs after breakfast only to change out of your clothes. You just want this day to go by as fast as it possibly could - you have to get back to the Sherriff's office.

There is no one at breakfast when you get there. After grabbing a tray filled with some food, you sit down at the picnic tables. Though you have food in front of you, your stomach isn't grumbling and you have absolutely no appetite whatsoever.

Slowly, the Quad fills up as your entire friend group comes walking to you with trays in their hands. With a sigh, Bianca sits down, taking a big sip of her orange juice.

No one really talks as everyone is sulking about everything going on. It is quite understandable, really.

The day flies by - literally. Because of your jumbled thoughts and extreme emotions, you accidentally flung different items off your desk or against the wall. It was all fine until you threw a glass past someone's head. The teacher excused you, insisting you take the rest of the class off. It was your last one anyway. Just as you enter your dorm, you get a text message.

bianca ★

wanna hang? a lot of stuff happened yesterday

You quickly text her back, saying that you will be there in a few minutes. No use to change clothes. Within a few minutes, you stand in front of your friends door. As you knock, the door opens, revealing Bianca behind it. She is dressed in other clothes already.

"Gosh, so much happened," she lets out a sigh, letting herself fall on the bed.

"What did? I wasn't away from Nevermore for that long."

"Where were you, anyway?"

"The Sherrif's department," you slide her desk chair backwards, sitting down on it as you look at her. "Why?"

"Wednesday has gotten expelled," Bianca leans on her elbows, looking back at you. "She tried to abuse the shit out of Tyler. We all agreed to talk to him because she thinks he is the Hyde, but then she pulled out a hammer and shit."

You scoff.

"She thought that Xavier was the monster, right? He is stuck in jail because of her."

"Yeah, she says that Tyler admitted everything to her."

"I'm going to sound rude, but she deserved to get sent away. In the time that she was at school, we have seen Sheriff Galpin more than in all previous years combined."

Bianca opens her mouth to say something, but her phone rings. On the screen is Enid's name. She lets out a sigh, picking up the phone.

"Hey, Enid. No, I'm in my room with Y/N. No, not really? Enid- Enid, you have to talk a bit slower," you let out a laugh as you watch your friend. "Yes, I know what the Nightshades are. Thornhill, a psycho? See you in a sec."

She hangs up, jumping up from her bed before looking down at you.

"There's a problem."

You run down the stairs together with Bianca, Davina, and Kent. In the library stand Ajax and Enid who is holding Thing. Was Thing not going with Wednesday?

"Bianca, Davina, Y/N and Kent? Seriously?" The blonde turns to Ajax. "Even Kent is here! How exclusive is this club?"

Davina snorts, looking over at Kent as you just hide your smile behind your hand. Kent looks from the two of you back to Enid, rolling his eyes.

"So what's the deal with Thornhill being a psycho?"

"She murdered Weems and then kidnapped Wednesday. They're in Crasckstone's Crypt."

Your eyes grow big as your smile quickly drops. Principal Weems is dead? Murdered by the normie teacher? But- how? Where is she now?

"We have to get everyone in the school to safety before it's too late" Enid lets out a sigh, fiddling with her hands.

Ajax unfolds the piece of paper in his hands, showing it to everyone. On it is a picture of what seems to be Crackstone, some sort of wand or stick in his hands as he stands in the Quad, fire surrounding him and the building.

"This is what's coming. They want the Outcasts gone."

"So, do we pull the fire alarms?"

You shake your head, tearing your eyes away from the drawing.

"No," you look at him. "We don't want to cause a big panic amongst everyone. It will alert Thornhill."

"How do we get everyone out then?"

"We will use our Siren Song to convince them. No one will bat an eye."

Your Siren friends pull off their amulets, hiding them in their pockets before nodding. Thing taps his way over to Enid as she picks him up.

"We will go look for Wednesday," she looks at everyone.

"I will stay in the Quad," you mumble. "My Telekinesis might be able to keep everything safe for as long as possible."

Bianca looks at you for a second. She doesn't want you to get hurt. It's not like she doesn't trust you, or that she doesn't think you can handle yourself - she is more worried about Crackstone showing up.

"I will hide on the second level, keep my eye out for anything crazy. Just get the others out of there."

"Okay," Bianca finally nods. "Nightshades, forever."

Everyone except for Enid snaps twice, which makes her glare at Ajax again.

"Seriously? A secret snap?"

You follow the Sirens upstairs, standing in the hallway that leads to the dorms and to the second level of the Quad. From here, you will get a perfect view of the place. If anyone opens any door, you will be able to see it. Worst case scenario, you will have to let yourself fall into the Quad. You can soften the fall though, by being able to let yourself float just for a second.

People start running past you, still pulling their jackets over their shoulders. Even Coach Vlad walks past you, not even acknowledging you as you are hidden in the dark corner. Good.

Bianca, Davina, and Kent then walk out of the dorms, giving you a glance.

"You sure you're going to be safe out here?"

"Of course," you grin. "I can handle myself."

"You better be careful, Y/N!"

Bianca has a grin on her face as she walks off to go to the next dorm, making sure everyone leaves the building. Hopefully, Enid and Thing are doing alright. A shaky breath leaves your lips. There is still hope. Hope that Weems is still alive and that Crackstone will not show up. He has been dead for over four hundred years already.

You check your phone - nothing. That must mean that no one found anything yet. Slowly, more and more people are running through the Quad. Your phone then makes a sound as you see that Ajax sent a message.

ajaxxx

heard from xavier. crackstone and thornhill are on their wya

b careful

They found Xavier? Or at least, heard of him. Has he been released from prison then? Just as you start typing back, a door in the Quad flies open, revealing screaming students and two other figures. Crackstone and Thornhill. You quickly shove your phone in your pocket, leaning down a bit to try and stay out of their line of sight.

The tall guy, probably Crackstone, says something to Thornhill which makes her walk off, talking to herself. Bianca and Ajax run up to you, out of breath. The sudden steps make the figure in the Quad look up, the staff in his hands glowing brightly.

"I will expunge you abominations from this Earth!"

One tap of his staff makes fire spread out, catching onto everything it can. Ajax quickly pulls you and Bianca down as the hot fire flashes over you.

More people are running through the Quad, almost not noticing Crackstone. They just want to get out.

"I'm going down there."

You quickly hurry down the stairs and to the Quad. You can not let this stupid, dead, old man ruin everything that Nevermore stands for. If he died once, then surely he can die again.

You run through the door, opening it harshly with your telekinesis.

"Hey, you asshole!"

The figure turns around. He looks even more disgusting up close. His skin looks like it is ready to peel off, and his hair also doesn't quite help the case.

"I will make sure that thy heart will not beat," he grits his teeth. "All Outcasts shall be destroyed."

You lift your hand, slinging the broken picnic table to his head as you focus on another item to throw to the man. Maybe you should have brought a weapon. Crackstone holds up the staff, blocking all the objects you throw at him. Stones, broken tables, pieces of rubble - nothing hits him.

With a simple flick of the staff, you fly against a pillar, hitting your head against the stone. For someone that wants to kill all Outcasts, he surely does use a lot of magic. You wince, your hand going up against your forehead. You can't let him win.

You take hold of the big piece of wood next to you, tightly gripping it in your hands as you slowly stand up, your legs barely able to keep you up. Crackstone only has a grin on his face - he is not against a fight. The door behind you opens again.

"Stay away from her!"

You immediately turn around when you hear the voice. Xavier. A faint smile is on your face as your eyebrows crease. He got out. You knew that he wasn't the monster. The boy fires an arrow pointing straight at Crackstone's heart.

For just a second, you believe that it's finally over. You can just be with Xavier and your friends again, no Crackstone and no monsters.

That is, until the arrow stops in the air, the point slowly turning back straight to Xavier. You can't let it hit him. The arrow gets fired off again.

So, you did the logical thing.

You jumped in front of the arrow.

You yelp as the arrow sticks itself in your shoulder, falling back against the remains of a picnic table.

"No! Y/N!"

Xavier runs down the stairs and towards your body. You gasp for air, your eyebrows creased and tears staining your cheeks. Your head hurts and every light and sound is just a bit too bright and loud.

His hand reaches for your head as he holds it up. Your eyes slowly move from Crackstone to Xavier. You feel like you are getting high - in a bad way. Your head feels like it's floating and your movements feel slow. It is like you are watching everything happen in slow motion.

"Xavier?"

He nods quickly, taking hold of your hand with his other hand.

"Can you take the arrow out?"

Tears pool in his eyes as he softly shakes his head.

"I can't," he whispers. "It's going to hurt more."

"Xavier!"

Wednesday walks through the doors, a sharp blade in her hands. Her face is covered in blood and her shirt is ripped. First, she wanted to ask him to fight with her, but then she sees his expression and you on the ground, an arrow in your shoulder.

"Get her out of here. I'll finish this."

He looks at her for a second, shock still evident on his face.

"Now!"

He picks you up with a swift motion, making sure to not put too much unnecessary touch or pressure on your shoulder. He has to get you to safety. It's his only priority.

With you in his arms, he runs down the halls and out of the Nevermore gate. It is cold outside, though he feels like he is burning. He can see the crowd of students already. Enid is also covered in mud and what seems like blood. The rest looks scared.

Kent immediately rushes up to Xavier as he sees that he is carrying you. He is one of your best friends.

Xavier slowly places you on the soft ground as you do nothing but blink. The Siren quickly shrugs off his jacket, rolling it up to act as a pillow that he carefully places underneath your head. Xavier also takes off his coat, placing it on top of you to try his best to keep you warm. The arrow still sticks out of your shoulder - he doesn't dare to touch it. Your hands are shaking when he takes hold of them.

"Am I dying?"

Xavier his heart breaks once you ask that. You have lost a bit of blood and you are quite out of it. He would stay in that jail cell for the rest of his life if that meant that this would have never happened to you. All he wants is to have you safe.

"No, sweetheart," he sniffles. "You're going to be fine. I promise."

"I'm scared," a whisper leaves your lips.

Xavier only scoots a bit closer to you, the rest of the Nevermore students not being able to do anything else than watch.

"I'll stay here, okay? Right by your side."

A nod is the only reaction he receives. Your entire body is trembling, though he isn't sure if it's from the cold or the shock that you are in. Kent places his hand on Xavier's shoulder, offering him a small smile.

"Is that-"

Enid storms off to the Nevermore gates, engulfing Wednesday in a big hug. That's the last thing you saw.

Xavier picked you up again. You were drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, your eyes droopy as you did not react to any noise or movement. Both you and Enid needed care in the Nevermore infirmary. As Wednesday patched Enid up, Xavier could do nothing except watch as another nurse made sure that your wounds were tended to.

If only he had not shot the arrow.

If the arrow had never left his bow, then you wouldn't have to get it removed. He never even wants to touch a bow and arrow again. Not if this is what happens. The nurse finally finishes the stitches as she cleans the last drop of blood. Your eyes have been closed this entire time - the anesthesia making sure you don't feel anything. All the past events had made you so tired, that you were knocked out immediately. Being thrown against a pillar did not really help you.

Luckily, nothing was broken and you weren't in a coma. Your ankle is fractured though - you must have fallen on it.

"Xavier," the nurse softly says, a smile on her face. "I think it is time that everyone retires to their rooms. It has been a long day."

He doesn't want to move. He wants to stay. What if you wake up, scared and alone in a dark room?

"Yeah," he mumbles, standing up. "Can that light stay on?"

He points to the small lamp on the bedside table. As long as it's on, it's going to be fine.

"Of course."

The nurse walks out of the room, making sure the lamp is on as she looks at Xavier. Her arm is holding the door open. He doesn't want to leave. He glances at you once more, breathing in shakily before walking out the door.

Not even the hot water from his shower makes him feel good. He feels itchy and he can't sleep. He doesn't know what tomorrow will bring. All that he knows is that he wants to be there for you.

Xavier pulls a white hoodie out of his closet, throwing it on before finding a pair of sweatpants and shoes. No matter what the nurse said, he has to go to the infirmary again. His hair is still wet by the time he makes it downstairs again.

After making sure that there are no nurses anymore, he sneaks in, closing the door behind him softly. You are in the exact same position, your eyes still closed and your hands by your sides. He takes a chair from behind the curtain, placing it close to your bed. It is the most uncomfortable thing that he ever sat on, but he doesn't care.

He pulls the hood onto his head, slumping in his chair while fiddling with his hands. He wished that none of this had ever happened.

Exhaustion had knocked out Xavier, making him sit in the chair uncomfortably. His elbow is leaning on his knee and his head is on his hand. His neck is going to hurt like crazy.

You wince as you open your eyes. The light next to you is extremely bright, especially considering the rest of the room is dark. Your head is pounding like crazy - it feels like someone is trying to claw its way out of it.

Your fingers are tingling, making you look down at them. They feel sore, just like the rest of your body. The blue blanket is thin, though you were convinced yours was a mixture of pink and red. Your neck feels frozen as you turn to look around the room.

Xavier.

Xavier is sitting on the chair, his eyes closed and his mouth open with just a bit of drool on his cheek. You almost giggle.

He is wearing a hoodie that you have never seen before - a white hoodie with a small print just on his chest. The boy stirs a bit, rubbing his eyes softly before sighing. He should not have slept in this stupid chair. His eyes slowly open as he blinks a few times.

He checks his phone - 9:03am. Xavier has been here for ages. He stretches his arms, looking around the room until his eyes fall on you. You are awake, your eyes open, and a small grin on your face.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, a big smile on his face. "You- You're awake!"

A giggle leaves your lips. You can't believe it took him this long to notice you.

"Awake and only in a small amount of pain. If a banging headache and a burning shoulder are considered a small amount."

It's like you see him in a different light. Not that he changed anything or that the small table lamp really changed his appearance, but he just seems different. In a good way. You just feel different about him - but better. Even better than before.

"I can see if there's some medicine," he stands up, walking through the small room to find something that might help. "Don't think this is considered a small bit."

Your eyes only follow him, a smile still on your face. You are lucky that there is no heart monitor connected to you. It would have been going crazy right about now. Xavier looks more beautiful than ever.

"I don't think I have ever seen you wear something plain white," you speak up. "Not since the Rave'n. Hey, you should wear white more. The suit fits you really well and-"

Xavier whips his head around so fast that he sees black spots for a second.

"What did you just say?"

"Since the Rave'n," you whisper.

Is it true? Is everything finally falling right back into place? Is everything how it used to be again?

"You remember."

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

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#xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday imagine #wednesday oneshot #xavier thorpe #siren song

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siriusleee · 1 year

Text

adamantine chains | part 3

"Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus." "What does that mean?" "Love is rich with both honey and venom." "I suppose that is true." Or which in König finds you broken in the mountains. A (brief) retelling of Cupid and Psyche. König | Reader

tags: no tw for this chapter, eventual smut, eventual death, idk yet request a fic here | buy me a coffee so I don't have to work overtime and can write more

a/n: we will not delve into the full cupid psyche story this month. this is just part 1. the rest will come later.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

The days pass slowly. You rotate through reorganizing and cleaning König's house, hands searching for something to keep them busy and from worrying about where your fiance could be and running errands for Oma. On the tenth day, it finally happens. You're trying to figure out what to cook yourself for dinner when a knock on the door startles you.

The policeman, the same one König spoke to just eleven days earlier, waits for you outside, hat held tightly in his hand. He doesn't look you in the eye. Beside him is another man, one you've never seen before. When this new man speaks, his English is quick a hint of a British accent behind his Austrian one.

"I am so sorry ma'am."

They help you up from the ground; you don't remember falling, but you know that his words have taken everything out of you. They help you settle into the chair by the fireplace before the man starts speaking again.

"I know this is difficult, but we do need to…ask you some questions."

You barely hear them, as they ask about the hiking trip, about your fiance's job, about how you got separated from the group that day. It isn't until the questions are over, that your brain starts to move again, and starts to ask questions again.

"Where is his body? Can I see it?"

The policeman who is speaking English shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and whispers something to the second policeman before speaking again; this time he can't look you in the eye.

"I am sorry, miss. But his body was taken by the United States government. We told them about you and how you were here with him, but," he pauses, clears his throat, "we were told you didn't have permission to be with him on his trip to Austria and that the government has no need to get you back home because you shouldn't be here."

For the second time, the floor falls out from beneath you.

When König arrives back home the next day, he finds you on the couch. You're wrapped in a blanket and fixated on the empty fireplace. He doesn't speak to you, doesn't even acknowledge you on his way past.

The shower kicks on from down the hallway; the sound grates on your nerves and you curl in tighter to yourself. When König arrives back into the living room he brings the scent of cedar wood and clary sage and underneath it a scent of something heavier and iron-tinged. You can feel his eyes on you, boring into you but he doesn't speak. Instead, he goes to the kitchen and starts banging around, pots slamming onto the stove and the sound of the gas clicking to life.

He doesn't speak to you until he sets down a bowl on the floor in front of you, the scene of garlic and tomatoes pulling you from the cocoon of blankets.

"I have heard what the police said, and I am sorry Taube. "

At his words, you start crying again - you can see the panic behind König's eyes and he presses himself into the chair, trying to get as far away from you as possible. You finally catch your breath enough to choke out what's been eating at you for the last 10 days.

"König I'm a terrible person."

" Nein, Taube . Why do you say that?"

Everything that has been bubbling inside you since you woke in Oma's house finally breaks through, and you sob between your words.

"I'm horrible König, I didn't even care that he was lost in the mountain - I just wanted to go home. And now I can't, now I'm stuck here the government didn't even care they just left me here. And now I will never get home; it's my punishment for not caring about him."

When König speaks to you, it's quiet, calculated.

"Why did you not care about him? He was your fiance?"

You press your hands to your face, trying not to puke all over König.

"I was only marrying him because I didn't know what else to do. He asked and I said yes, I thought it was what people just did. I thought I could love him, but I couldn't make myself feel it. And now he is dead, and all I feel is grateful that you found me and that I'm able to live."

You're hyperventilating, you can't breathe. Your hands press painfully into your face, trying to push the thoughts away from you. A pair of large hands wrap around your wrist, and König pries your hands away from your face slowly. He's knelt down in front of the couch, eyes trained on yours.

"You are not terrible, Taube. Trust me when I say this. I know you are upset you cannot go home right now, but you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I know it has been nice for Oma to have you around when I was gone."

This makes you cry worse, and the crushing feeling of being a burden grows around you.

"Hush, Taube. I will take care of you."

You let him wrap the blanket back around you, and let him use the corner to wipe your face clean. He presses the bowl of food, spaghetti with so much cheese on top it's nearly ridiculous before he leaves you again to start the fire and warm the room up.

You don't know how long it takes you to calm down, but your heart feels lighter, finally admitting the horrible thoughts you'd been having for months.

The relationship had started innocently at first; you'd met your fiance at work. You did IT work for a banking company and he was a customer who had accidentally wandered into the wrong part of the bank. It had been a whirlwind, him sweeping you away and convincing you to quit your job and move with him. The entire relationship had been rocky, but you had no way of knowing how to leave, and when he finally asked you to marry him you didn't know how to say no. There had been the worry that if you did, you would have nowhere to go - you didn't even know where your dad was asking him to come to get you (not that he would, but it had always been a hope). And then there had been dress fittings, and cake tasting. Finally, the trip to Austria, a honeymoon before the wedding because your fiance would be gone for work the day after your wedding.

To finally admit to someone how you felt was liberating, even if it did make you feel like a horrible person.

You don't know how long you sit there before you finally manage to eat. The pasta is cold, but the sauce is still amazing. König sits in the chair, eyes boring holes into the wall before turning towards you.

"You've never said, how you speak Polish."

You stir the leftover sauce in the bowl around as you think back.

"My grandfather was from Poland. He immigrated to the United States after the Nazis started taking over. His father sent him to the United States alone, he was really young too. Anyway, he lived in the United States for the rest of his life. My mom died when I was born, and my dad left me on his doorstep before I could even cry for help. So my grandfather raised me. We only spoke Polish at his house."

"And he is dead now, no?"

"Yeah. He died when I was in college. He owned an orange grove and, I didn't know this, but he was selling off parts of it to send me to college. So when he got sick, there was no money to pay for his treatment and no land to sell for it either."

"I am so sorry, Taube. "

You set the bowl down beside you, changing the conversation to something that isn't eating you from the inside out.

"What does that mean? Taube ?"

König shifts in his seat, slouching down so that his legs are spread out in front of him and his head can rest on the back.

"It is just a polite word for a young woman."

"But-"

"Enough, Taube. "

The weeks at König's pass by easily. You find yourself slipping into a comfortable pattern, the two of you rotating around each other like planets caught in each other's orbit. When König is gone, you figure out how to entertain yourself: helping Oma take care of herself, developing your film in the dark room König set up for you, and selling the prints of the local scenery in one of the local cafes.

When König finds you after his last work assignment, you're in the dark room, developing your recent prints. You don't speak as he folds into the room and presses against the doorway.

"You know König I don't have a disease. You don't have to keep yourself so far away from me."

He doesn't speak to you as you clip your next print to dry, solution dripping down your fingers. You're taken back to that day in the mountain when the rain fell onto your skin, and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself against the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to break through. You turn your attention to König to distract yourself.

"Are you going to speak, or are you going to stay there staring at me menacingly?"

"I am not staring menacingly."

"You wear a mask König; you are the definition of menacing."

König grumbles but doesn't say anything to refute you. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you turn to stare at him, hip cocked against a table to mimic his pose. König shuffles his feet, eyes turned down at the floor. His hands are behind his back; his forearms are tight.

"König what is wrong?"

"I was," his voice catches, "I was wondering if you wanted to go get dinner tonight so that we did not have to cook."

His voice is cracked, lilted in a way you haven't heard before. You frown at him, trying to figure out what is wrong. In a second, his demeanor changes; he shrinks in on himself and gives you a curt nod.

"I will leave you alone then."

He's out the door before you're able to catch up to him, hand wrapping around his elbow to stop him. His eyes crinkle on the edges when he looks down at you, and you know he's frowning beneath the mask. His muscles are rope tense beneath your hand; you realize with a skip of your heartbeat that this is the first time you've ever touched him.

"What's up with you? Of course, I want to go out with you."

The muscles under your hand relax incrementally and you expect König to step away from you like he always does. But he leans just an inch closer when he speaks.

" Perfekt. "

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