#i miss them so much. my resolve to wait is crumbling. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ugotcooneycrossed · 6 months

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let you break my heart again • alessia russo

part 2 of 'keep pretending pretty girl'

w/c: ~1.5k

a/n: sorry this took longer than planned my pookies but i hope its worth it🫶

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you make some half-arsed excuse to leave the table- an ‘emergency’ of sorts that you have to see to.

an excuse that has the girl sitting across from you rolling her eyes, and huffing out a breath- she stands to leave and you grimace at her retreating form.

apologise to lotte later you tell yourself.

each step towards the toilets your resolve disappears a little more- your dignity all but vanishes, and the ever-nagging thought that this is a bad, very bad idea fades into an afterthought.

your heart beats a little faster; nerves, excitement- or the sheer embarrassment of never being able to deny alessia what she wants, you aren’t exactly sure.

you’re the first to arrive- the walk from your table since her text, an embarrassingly short amount of time. ducking down to check each stall, making sure no one else would be there to witness.

the door swings open loudly- and your head shoots to the newcomer, your heart pumping impossibly faster- but a stranger walks through instead, shooting you a strange look at your dishevelled appearance and heaving chest.

clearing your throat you avert your eyes- pretending to occupy yourself with washing your hands. and when the stranger leaves, you check your phone- five minutes have definitely passed, yet no sign of her.

it’s embarrassing how much you wish she would walk through that door right now. you huff out a frustrated breath- the tight feeling in your chest, coiling down into your stomach, and sitting heavily in your heart once again.

you turn to leave- barely making it out the door before a hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you back in.

a familiar voice questions you.

“where are you going?”

alessia.

“home?”

you reply- and alessia rolls her eyes at you- trapping you in between the sinks and herself.

“who was that?”

she questions you again- moving her head to catch your eyes when you avert them.

“no one less.”

her eyes narrow- moving impossibly closer to you- and your breath hitches in your throat, alessia opens her mouth to speak- but loud voices from just outside the door interrupt. instead, she grabs your hand- pulling you into a stall with her, just as a horde of women pile into the room.

you’re pressed up against each other in the small space- alessia’s breath fanning your neck, her perfume thick and enveloping all your senses.

the chatter from outside the stall fades into the background- muffled voices talking about something that you can’t quite comprehend at the moment.

not when alessia is looking down at you with those eyes, and her hands are resting on your hips- squeezing ever so slightly.

she’s got a gentle smile on her face now- one that has your heart melting a little, one that makes you crumble all over again, one that makes you think she finally will tell you she wants you.

the toilets empty finally- and you take the opportunity to shove the door open, practically tumbling out of the cramped space- desperate to get away from the blonde girl.

“(y/n) wait!”

you turn to look at her- waiting for her to say something, anything.

and yet, she doesn’t.

typical.

“shouldn’t you get back to your boyfriend less?”

she doesn’t respond to that- cringing and taking a step away from you instead.

“i don’t want you to see her again.”

she whispers it- and if you weren’t so in tune with her you would’ve missed it.

“sorry?”

“i don’t want you to see her again- i don’t want you to see anyone again.”

“but you right? ‘cause you just want me all to yourself? but it’s only when you want to see me- only when your boyfriend starts to bore you- only when you’re so pissed drunk you can’t even see straight- literally. and you want to know something alessia- you want to know the saddest, most pathetic part of it all? i’d let you break my heart over, and over again.”

you don’t know what’s come over you- you don’t know where this sudden rage is coming from, but when you see alessia shrink back- you can’t stand to be in the same room any more. cause you know the moment she speaks- the moment she reaches out, and holds your hand softly, the moment she whispers that she loves you; you’ll crumble and forgive her all over again.

you ignore her for days after that night- not that she has the nerve to say anything to you anyway, and you avoid her at training, going as far as to complain about a non-existent tweak in your knee to be allowed to skip training and stay in the gym.

leah shoots you strange looks over laura’s head- the girl too bust talking your ear off about how cute myle is to notice anything else.

kyra questions your sudden disappearance- poking you at lunch relentlessly, until you throw a chocolate bar in another direction, the younger girl chasing after it.

lotte catches you at lunch a few days later- grabbing your elbow and yanking you into an empty conference room.

“what happened?”

her tone is gentle but her hands holding you in place, not letting you escape- tell another story.

“nothing.”

lotte’s eyebrows raise- gripping your arm tighter when you try to leave.

“i talked to alessia.”

you hum at that- shrugging your shoulders.

“what’d she say?”

“just that you were upset with her- and well grace told me and I quote ‘some jealous blonde crashed our date and your friend basically malfunctioned on the spot.’”

“yeah- that’s some way to put it. she was there, even came up to out table. we talked. that’s all.”

the arsenal christmas party serves a great place to get drunk- a couple weeks after ‘the great disaster’- the new name of your date gone wrong.

lotte gives you a disapproving look at the amount of vodka you’ve poured and you send her a thumbs up and a cheeky smile.

you’re a little warm- buzzing from the alcohol, and the stupid sweater katie wrangled over your head when you stepped through the door- some obscure christmas reference you don’t know.

there’s a sea of people to navigate through- most you know, friends and family of your teammates that you’ve known for years now.

the crown from the bon bon you won against kyra slips a little- the small tear in the back, a result of kyra’s displeasure at losing- your poor green, paper crown a casualty in her mission to steal the stupid knickknacks inside. momentarily blinding you, you push it up, coming face-to-face with alessia’s ugly mug of a boyfriend.

“hey, you seen less?’

you hold in your grimace at his annoying voice, swallowing down and shrugging your shoulders.

“dunno man- sorry.”

he rolls his eyes at you.

shoving past more people to look for the blonde- and with his back turned, you flip him off, mocking him, and pulling faces.

with the last bit of your drink gone- and the sudden need to pee the only thing on your mind. you wonder over to the toilets.

you stand in front of the mirror for a while after- putting your cold hands on your flushed cheeks to cool them down.

and finally, fully satisfied with your full proof method to cool down- you open the door to leave- alessia appearing right on the other side.

“(y/n)! i’ve been looking for you! i missed you sooo much!”

you don’t know whether the alcohol is coming from her, or yourself- regardless the blonde crashes into you- and you melt at her familiar hold.

“i missed you too less.”

“please, please- just one kiss, i missed my girl.”

she puckers her lips expectantly- her strong arms still wrapped around you, and the fight in your head to not kiss her, doesn’t last more than a second, before you connect your lips.

you try to pull away after a second, but alessia grabs you tighter, chasing after your lips.

you separate- heaving chests, and matching slightly swollen lips.

“i love you so much (y/n)- i don’t ever want to go back to not talking.”

“i love you too lessi, i just-“

“there you are less!”

alessia’s boyfriend interrupts before you can say anything else- he pulls her away from you and you roll your eyes as they kiss.

he pulls away- sparing you one glance and trying to get alessia’s attention.

“head home now?”

he questions.

“mmh you can- might crash at (y/n)’s.”

alessia is only looking at you- waving off her boyfriend. and he leaves without another thought.

“what we’re you saying?”

“nothing- don’t worry about it less.”

“tell me- please.”

“don’t leave if you do come back- stay, please.”

you wake to the sound of your front door closing- shooting up in bed.

the beds empty- because of course it is, and you fall back into the sheets with a sigh.

there’s no training anymore with christmas break- no need to ignore you and fuss over the phone with her boyfriend. no texts, no calls- she doesn’t even like your instagram photos.

not that you’ve been hanging out for a notification from her or anything.

then a few days before you’re set to start training- you get a notification.

lessi to ‘you’

-> i miss you, i'm sorry for leaving- can we talk?

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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gojos-fr-bae · 10 months

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Stood up

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Cursing

Three hours.

You waited at that damn restaurant for three excruciating hours receiving a pitiful look from the waitress and you just couldn't handle it anymore.

Your precious boyfriend had let you sit there and feel embarrassment flood you every time you caught someone staring at you before whispering to their date.

He couldn't even bother bother to text or call nor reply to your texts or answer your calls. And as if this all isn't bad enough this wasn't the first but fourth time that month and you couldn't take it anymore.

It's been so long you two spent time together. He always arrived home when you were already asleep and left before you could wake. You were the only one even tying to keep you two together and you were so, so exhausted. You couldn't keep giving your everything to someone and receiving nothing in return, after all you're only human.

And so, driven by pain, you ignored your tears and painful sobs escaping your chest as you packed all your belongings and wrote one last letter to your soon to be former lover.

It hurt you so much to leave knowing you may never love anyone the way you love him, but you had to do this for your own sake and if that meant walking out that front door and not turning back then so be it.

It had been a week since you left the house you shared with the love of your life and you had received nothing but silence from his end, and yet today you woke up to 45 missed calls and so many messages from the bastard but you couldn't bring yourself to open them. You knew that if you listened to even one of the voicemails he left your resolve would crumble considering the texts you also received from his students begging you to speak to him and talking about how much of a mess he is.

You were scrolling through their messages when you barely heard the gentle knocking on the door over the rain outside. You had been staying at your friend's that night and as far as you were aware she was spending the night at her boyfriend's so you had no idea who'd be at the door.

You got up, groaning from the headache your crying had caused and began walking towards the door. You opened the door, breath catching at seeing Gojo standing on the other side of the door. He looked up at you and his eyes began tearing up. They were swollen, red and had bags, his cheeks sunken in slightly. It felt like a dagger was jabbed into your heart and was being twisted. You couldn't bare to see him looking so broken.

"H-hi" he whispered, looking at his feet and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt so that you don't see him breaking or hear how his voice cracks.

"Hi"

"May I- umm, may I c-co-come in?" this time you heard how his voice wavered."

"Goj-"

"Please, d-don't call me that"

"Come in" You said, finally noticing how much he was shivering, his hair and clothes soaked.

"Satoru, did you, walk here?"

"Walk, stand outside the building trying to gain the confidence to enter what's the difference?"

"Oh no, I'm so sorry let me get you some spare clothes, I hope I have something that can fit-"

"No no, that won't be necessary I don't plan on staying long."

"Well in that case uhm... how can I help you?"

There was a heavy silence between you two as you stood in the doorway, waiting for him to respond.

"P-please" he croaked, tears beginning to fall down his face, "Please take me back"

"Satoru don't-"

"I'm so, so sorry. I'm such a pathetic and useless boyfriend and It's completely my fault that we split up because I stood you up and hurt you and I know I don't deserve to be forgiven but I'm begging sugar cube please, I can't live without you"

"Satoru you constantly disregarded me and our relationship. You never spoke to me, constantly stood me up and never even bothered to apologise ONCE, It's like you never even loved me in the first place!" You shouted, feeling your tears begin to blur your vision.

"I know and I'm sorry! I feel like and absolute piece of shit but I LOVE YOU Y/N! I love you so much it hurts, I love you so much I almost have a heart attack whenever you smile! And I love you because you are the only one who ever made me feel like that, only one who ever told me that I would be ok who ever held me when I cried, no one else but you!"

"Even if you do I can't keep carrying this relationship alone Satoru! I can't be at peace unless I leave"

"BUT YOU PROMISED!! YOU PROMISED NEVER TO ABANDON ME! PROMISED TO NEVER BREAK MY HEART AND I BELIEVED YOU! I STILL DO SO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!" You were both sobbing now.

"Satoru, even if I said yes, I know I would never be your first priori-"

"I quit!" He pressed out quickly, looking up to meet your eyes and lacing your hands in his.

"Wh-what"

"I quit at Jujutsu tech immediately after reading your letter a-and I realised that you were right. You were right about everything! I had neglected and mistreated you so much when you deserved none of it and I'm sorry."

You were stunned. flabbergasted even. You knew how important Gojo was to the Jujutsu world and so did he. You were pretty sure that the world would fall into chaos, he was the only person keeping things in balance. And he quit...for you"

"Satoru-"

"Before you say anything, don't worry about money. I already have tons and once I'm head of the clan it practically doubles so I can spoil you the way you deserve to be"

"Goj-"

"And I promise I'll work harder to make you happy. I know I really don't deserve it because I'm a worthless piece of-"

"SATORU GOJO WILL YOU LET ME SPEAK!"

"Yes ma'am" he said, almost in a whisper.

"Did you really quit for me?"

"Yes"

"Do you really love me? "

"More than breathing"

"And are you really going to change?"

"Anything for you"

"Then if we give this one more shot things will really be different?"

"Yes"

"Okay, then let's do it, I mean what's the worst that could happen?"

His face lit up up before he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"Thank you so much, I love you"

"I love you more sweetheart"

"Eh, doubt it"

Yay

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #jujustu kaisen #satoru #gojo x reader argument

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aetheternity · 2 years

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Fucking & Fighting

Synopsis: Play fighting with your archon boyfriend is something you should always assess the consequences of before doing.

A/N: Ok so if you're following me and you see this you'll know where it's from but for everyone else here's the post that gave me the idea to write this. (Yeah I write too much Venti smut what do you want from me??)

Disclaimer: This is afab reader x Venti. MDNI. brief mentions of being rough in this work.

"Windblume~" Venti's spirited voice echoed down the hall until it found your ears. You hear the call of your partner again followed by the faint sound of a door opening then immediately shutting quickly after.

You weren't exactly hiding. Of course not, you'd never hide from Venti. But the sound of his voice getting closer made your stomach churn with a sort of anticipation.

"Are you.. here??" Followed instantly by a disappointed sigh. A new door, only a couple feet away soon being shut as well.

It was pretty understandable. All the rooms in the mansion looked alike and it seemed Venti's elder brain had its moments of disorientation. His footsteps trekked ever closer and when he stopped in front of your door, you found yourself tugging the blankets up over your head. And yeah this wasn't something you did often. In fact you found yourself taking a back seat to reassess for a moment. But things had already fallen into motion by this point.

The familiar creak of your door welcomed a singsongy and oh giggly tune of, "Windblume~" followed by a faint noise of surprise. Affirming blink perhaps maybe even another gesture you couldn't quite see with this blanket on top of you. A click of the door's confirming shut ringing across the completely silent room.

A chuckle, then an overly dramatized sigh and, "Oh where oh where might my Windblume be today?" The clicks of his shoes across the hardwood grew louder and a little faster as he stopped just beside your bed grabbing your waist so suddenly that you gasped. The blanket flopped off your head as you jolted away from his touch.

"Found you." He muttered, grin impossibly bright.

"Ve-" You nearly bounce off the bed. Those same fingers once idle on your waist dig into your back. Your hips wriggling around till he receives a full joyous scream as you writhe in his hold.

He really is far stronger than he appears. His grip only growing tighter as you slip and slide along the sheets, kicking your feet with each new beg for release. At some point you twist around far enough in your mess of limbs to grab a pillow from the edge of the bed launching it at full speed. The hat once sat atop Venti's head quickly falling to the floor behind him. He pauses now, lips parted in awe and you almost apologize, that is until his hands yank the pillow clean from your hands whacking you far harder than you'd hit him.

"You little.." The bed huffs in agony as you crawl up to the headboard.

"No, wait! You started it!" Venti chokes as he's soon assaulted with a pillow, covering his head with the one he'd snatched from you earlier as you rapidly thwack him.

You momentarily stop, "No I didn't! You were tickling-"

In your moment of restraint he ceases the opportunity. Your legs suddenly wrenched from beneath you. The pillow in your arms and the one he'd been using as a shield falling to the ground as he crawls atop you. You don't miss a beat, bracing for what you assume will be his revenge. Shocked to instead find your wrists captured and quickly pinned above your head. Before you can react Venti's lips are slotting over yours. His thumbs so soothing against your warm skin. Yet still firm anytime you tried to free them.

"Venti.." You sigh into his mouth. Adjusting with him as he splays his legs on either sides of your waist. "Venti, I-"

His braids tickled your cheeks as you gaze into those darkening green/blue irises. The heat of it all feeling as though it were settling on every inch of your skin. His resolve broke, crumbling as he drew ever closer to you. Breath fanning the bridge of your nose.

"Someone's not wearing a bra." He whispered with a low hum. "Were you trying to tease me, Darling Windblume?"

"Is that why you decided to start a fight with me?" You giggle against his lips. "Cause you wanted to touch them?"

"Perhaps, or perhaps I just really felt like tickling you today."

"Pervert." You fake pout.

His laugh is breathy, gentle as the fingers running along the curve of your spine. He traps you in yet another kiss drifting his hands slowly upwards. Your shirt sliding up as they're pushed along by his wrists. You arch your back allowing for the warm fabric to fall away, revealing taut nipples just beneath. Your grin almost childish at the sparkle that glints in the corner of his eyes. Nothing he'd never seen before but that look and that deep shudder of a breath that escaped him never failed to excite you. In more ways than one.

He dips his head to trap your right nipple between his lips. The slick suction so quickly intense on one side while his free hand busied with the left areola. This one spot on your body always had been his favorite. The perfect distraction to allow for your leg to drift along his inner thigh. Adjusting ever so slightly to slip just between his legs.

"Aww Ven, you're practically bursting out of your shorts." You sneer, taking into account the way his eyes flick up to meet yours. Flinching and grappling at the hand that soon replaces your leg between his thighs. But he doesn't bother to remove the touch. "Is this my influence on the great Anemo Archon at its finest."

He doesn't respond. With words that is. Now detached from your chest aside from one hand still affectionately squeezing your tit. His head hangs as he greedily circles his hips back and forth and round and round in the perfect tempo to make his jaw slack. Just the right motions for his chest to cave and his bottom lip to quiver. Your wrist trapped between his clenching thighs while his tiny whimpers alight flames in the pit of your stomach.

"Don't you want these shorts off, Ven?"

It had been quite a while since Venti had come to see you last. Judging by his reactions and how hard up his body seemed for even your smallest touches it might have affected him far more than he was admitting. You noted in your mind how much easier it was to undo his corset than when you'd first done it, happy to watch the article of clothing fall to the floor. Followed by his cape, blouse, shoes, stockings and lastly his shorts. Which were the quickest to go, his drooling tip bobbing around as he moved to help you undress as well.

When he kisses you again it's far rougher, filled with need as his incisors nip at your bottom lip. Tugging it open for his tongue. Meanwhile you found your hands sliding over every lithe curve of Venti's stomach, hips and back. Delighted by how warm his skin felt as though it were your first time with him all over again. His body was so incredibly soft to the touch. Every expanse so firm and nearly any drag of your fingertips made him shiver in ecstasy. Especially the tiny pinches you administered to his nipples.

It'd distracted you so well you weren't privy to where his fingers had moved until they were tugging a moan from your throat. Your cunt welcoming his fingers with no resistance. He straightened up keeping your hips locked in with his thighs, your legs already beginning to quiver as he scissors your flexing pussy.

"Windblume.. I don't want to be gentle anymore." He states firmly

"I'll take it, I promise."

The gasp you let out is noisy, reverberates in a clash off the walls of your bedroom as he adds a third finger. Pounding all three into your spot until you're squirming, inching away from his touch. The sensation gathering in your belly like a clash of pain and pleasure so deep your eyes shut. Then as suddenly as it arrives Venti's retracting his fingers.

You don't even begin to fully exhale before his cock is penetrating your sopping opening, not even bothering to stop until he's balls deep. His moan of your name so throaty and filled with contentment that it almost sounds like a thank you. Followed almost immediately by open mouthed kisses to your face.

"Love, I can't.. can't stay still anymore.. I wanna fuck you." He whispers

The tip of his cock instantly ruts harshly against your spot, so dangerously near your cervix. You find yourself clinging for dear life as Venti only speeds forward, his breathing so harsh against your ear canal. Your nails scrap skin up from his back trying desperately to find any kind of purchase with the way he's so violently fucking inside you.

The pounding of the headboard just behind you two continues to feel louder and louder but it still doesn't out do Venti's pants of your name. The way he chokes and whimpers with every clench of your cunt.

"Windblume.. you're sucking me in so deep.." You can nearly feel the roll of his eyes. "Did your pussy forget me?.. I've been gone.. too long.. because this feels.. so much better than I.... remember."

You can barely form a coherent reply, only his name floods off your lips as you scream for- who knows at this point.

His face dips into the crook of your neck. Sucking sections of your damp skin until it bloomed a bright pink. His free hand cupping and massaging your breasts. Switching between the right and left to give each side an equal amount of attention. Your nails soon leave his back, traveling up the nape of his neck to guide his head.

"I'm gonna cum.. love.." He whimpers, moving the hand that once fondled your breasts to your stomach as he abuses only your spot till you're sobbing and shaking.

Your own orgasm fast approaching with every slide of his cock. He leans back over your lips letting every noise in his body escape against the wild clash. Every second you squeeze him only making his movements that much more harsh. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, white flashes burning into your retinas. Your back arching away as you were hit with immediate overstimulation.

"I'm there, I'm there, Windblume!" Venti's cock twitched with every drop of cum that escaped him. His exhales fluttering over your chest. A couple of quieter moans filtered from his mouth now as his climax ended with your pussy still softly squeezing around him.

His lips pressed against the crown of your head. "Sorry, did I get too carried away?"

You sighed eyes threatening to shut, "Maybe a little at the end but you clearly needed me sooner." A quick kiss to his chin then cheek. "You should've come."

"I wouldn't have been able to stay for long." He whispers "I don't want your mind to drift until you talk yourself into believing I only want, no, need sex from you."

"I've never thought that, Ven."

"Please never think that.."

You give a light chuckle, "I don't."

"Good." His palms slide up to your face coming up to rest on your cheeks. His kiss is far softer yet still a touch needy. "I can buy you breakfast while I'm here, I raked in extra mora from performing. So whatever you want tomorrow is yours."

"Apples and cheese then?" You giggle at the crease of his eyebrows.

"How dare you try to ruin a perfectly good apple.." He snorts playfully

"How about this: pillow fight, loser has to go out earlier and get whatever the victor wants for breakfast."

"Better proposition we just have sex again because that's what would inevitably happen anyway annnddd fight about who's gonna get breakfast tomorrow, tomorrow."

"Sounds like a fair trade."

#venti smut #venti x reader smut #venti thirst #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin thirsts #genshin impact x reader smut

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bunny-rambles · 2 years

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· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Fleeting moments, sudden kisses

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

characters; Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, (separate) and gn reader

cw/tw; minor swearing, very minor mention of fighting on Kaeya’s, other than that it’s pure fluff (but still, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

word count; 400+ for each character

notes; to combat my writers block, I dug out something from my ‘ideas’ drafts and decided to write it and I really like how it’s turned out. It’s my first time writing Diluc so I’m kinda nervous (thank you so much for the tips, Hazel <3) I hope you all enjoy

Please reblog if you like this!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Albedo

A quiet sigh slipped out of your lips as you rubbed at your forehead, eyes fixated on the paper in front of you. You could hear the sound being echoed by your counterpart beside you, who was equally stumped. This problem had eluded the both of you for a few days now, and neither of you were coming up with a solution anytime soon. The words were starting to blur together from how hard you were staring, as if the paper had the answers you seeked, making the passages jumbled with sentences that didn’t exist. And it didn’t help that the fire beside you was starting to dim again, yielding to the harsh conditions of the snowy mountain you were stuck on.

Cerulean eyes scanned the information in front of them, pale fingers tender against the page of the old book, as if one wrong move would make the brittle pages crumble. You were envious of the treatment… You hadn’t even realised a small pout was forming on your lips. You let a quiet huff of breath before shaking your head. Focus, Y/N, this was not the time to start getting jealous over a book of all things!

“Is everything alright?” A warm voice asked, the sound wrapping around you like a snug blanket, a comfort much needed.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been staring at my hand for a while. Do you perhaps need a break?” The alchemist asked, eyes flitting between the work in front of him and your gradually warming face.

“Oh, I- I hadn’t even noticed.” You chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of your neck to soothe yourself. It was embarrassing that you had been caught… But, now would’ve been the perfect time to take up his suggestion. You had been going at it for hours, after all. Before you could respond, Albedo had already closed the book and was shutting your own that was in front of you, rising from his seat.

“The fire has gone out. You must be cold.” He stated matter-of-factly, already beginning to shed his coat. The words on your tongue died along with your resolve as he placed the fabric around you, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than they should’ve. Your own hands reached up to grasp at the clothing, your cheeks now a prominent pink.

“Thank you…”

“Of course.” He nodded, a subtle smile forming on his lips. As if your heart couldn’t take anymore, the blonde prince leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, before whispering in your ear quietly,

“Anything for you, dearest.”

Childe

You waited. It seemed like forever that you waited. Day in, day out, you waited - for good news, for bad, for something, anything. And now, your patience has finally been rewarded.

You stood quietly, nervously wringing your hands together, nibbling on your bottom lip. You were sure it was today. You double- no, triple checked the letter to make sure. You didn’t want to get it out in case the shaking of your hands caused you to drop the precious cargo, but you were certain of the words.

Today.

Ajax was coming home today. No more incessant, aggravating waiting. He would be here soon, wrapped up in your embrace and you weren’t letting go anytime soon. The Fatui would have to go through you if they wanted Tartaglia back. There was no Tartaglia when he was with you, only Ajax - only your soulmate.

In the distance, just beyond the murky fog, you could see the outline of a large ship coming closer. The horn it sounded off rang in your ears as you took a few steps forward, making yourself stand out from the bustling crowd that was also there, painfully patient to see their loved ones. Your breath hitched when it finally pulled up at the docks, your fidgeting hands freezing once they balled up into tight, anxious fists. And then the doors opened.

As one, the group pushed forward, greedily taking up the space at the front, knocking you out of the way. You wanted to shout in frustration, for now you couldn’t see the exiting passengers, could not see the unruly red hair you so desperately wanted to see. You were sure you screamed his name as your hand reached out towards the boat, but it was too late. You had been pushed too far for your voice to be heard above the ravenous crowd. Defeated, you stumbled backwards, a shaky sigh leaving your lips.

Just as you were about to give up, to go home and wait for him there, you were swept up by a pair of familiar arms, being hoisted up to a certain height before warm lips crashed into your cold ones. You weren’t sure whose tears were wetting your cheeks, but one thing you were sure of was you were where you belonged and so was he.

Here, in your shared, loving embrace, he mumbles against your lips - “I’m home, beautiful.”

Diluc

The gentle clink of glasses being put away echoed through the room, only to be drowned out by you happily humming to yourself as you put yet another glass back in its place. With your lover being busy with ‘external affairs’ away from the winery, you took it upon yourself to help Adalinde out with the piling housework since the winery was short staffed at the moment. But if anything, you were thankful for this opportunity- the less work Diluc had to worry about when he got home, the better, and you were more than happy to assist anyway.

He had been back for quite some time now, but you were sure he hadn’t even noticed you were here. You were tucked away in the kitchen, after all. You did hear both Elzer and Adalinde mildly scold him for being gone for so long though, which made you chuckle quietly under your breath, then you heard the telltale sound of his footsteps heading up the stairs to his room. Hopefully, he had been convinced to get some rest - you knew how hard he worked, day and night, sometimes it felt like he never stopped. If for only a moment, he could relax because you had lessened his load, then you would take up every menial duty you could. It was nothing compared to what he did.

You were down to the few dozen glasses when suddenly, you felt the presence of another behind you. Bleary eyes peered over your shoulder, noticing the neatly placed dishes and other utensils that had been placed back in their original spot after being cleaned thoroughly. You heard a mumble, the deep timbre sending small jolts down your spine.

“What's that, dear?” You asked quietly, turning your head slightly towards him to listen while you continued your cleaning.

“… Did all this?” You could barely make out what he was saying, but you nodded anyway.

“I did. Did I wake you?” You asked, only to receive a shake of his head, his impressive but messy mane springing upwards from the motion. Hesitant arms wrapped around your middle from behind, pulling you into his broad chest, his head burying itself in the space between your shoulder and neck.

“Diluc?” You questioned, a soft gasp escaping your lips when you felt his lips against your skin as he spoke.

“….Thank you.” He mumbled quietly, before more firmly pressing his lips against the bare side of your neck. You were sure your face matched the shade of his fiery hair, your hands halting in their actions before you carefully placed the glass down, sure you were going to break it if you held it any longer.

“…Bed.”

“Huh?”

“Bed… Come to… with me.”

“But-“

“I’ll finish it later.” He grumbled, nuzzling further into your shoulder. You sighed in defeat, raising a hand to run your fingers through his unruly hair, which he sluggishly leaned into. You smiled softly at that.

“Alright…”

Kaeya

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Hm? Do what?” A sly voice questioned, chuckling at the blank look you gave him.

“Kaeya.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a date, aren’t I allowed to be a gentleman?” Once again, another silky laugh was uttered from those sultry lips. Slick bastard.

He was right, this was a date, perhaps the first one to be officially titled as that, even though the two of you had been an item for quite some time now. With his claim as the Cavalry Captain and you were with your own job, it was almost impossible to get any free time together. Most of it was spent at the tavern or at home, curled up in each other’s arms. It was more than enough for you, but it seemed that your partner thought otherwise. He wanted to show you how much he cherished you, even if it did mean that he was rather… What was the word? Cheesy, about it.

“But you didn’t have to dress up! I thought we were only going to Good Hunter!” You whined playfully, playing with the single rose in your hand he had gifted to you when you opened the door. It wasn’t as if he was trying to steal the limelight, you too had taken the time to put on your best clothes. You had wanted it to be special, and it seemed he also returned that sentiment.

He laughed quietly, taking your hand in his own and leading you out of the doorway. “But isn’t it fun? I should’ve done this when I asked you to be mine.”

“Wasn’t asking me in the middle of fighting abyss mages enough for you?” You teased with a smirk. Ah yes, you remembered. The two of you were just about to confess to each other when all of a sudden, the abyss decided now was the perfect time to ruin the moment. But, you couldn’t exactly say it wasn’t memorable when Kaeya decided to yell about his feelings for you in the middle of the battle. Why did he decide to do it then of all times? Then, when you had to focus on not being hit by the hurricane of water being hurled your way, and not the beating of your longing heart? It wasn’t as if you were any better, screaming at the top of your lungs that his feelings were returned.

“Hm, I suppose so, but it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” You asked quietly.

“Well…” He started, before lifting your hand towards his face. “I would’ve done this,” He chuckled, kissing your hand gently, his icy eyes trailing up to meet your own, “Before asking you to be mine.“

Xiao

The wind gently tousled your hair as your hands glided across the stems of the flowers almost expertly, a curious immortal by your side as he watched in a trance.

“See? It’s easy! And you just continue to do that until…” Your voice began to fade out, your words getting lost in the spring breeze as his eyes focused on your face. Your eyes were so vibrant when you talked about something you were interested in. Even if he had lived for thousands of years, and had gathered knowledge on almost every topic by now, he was still enchanted whenever you spoke of something that intrigued you. He blinked a few times before realising you were calling his name, your face scrunched up in… Confusion? Sadness? He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he didn’t want to see that frown on your face. You were too precious for such an expression.

“Sorry… I think I understand.” Xiao spoke quietly, hesitantly reaching out for the unfinished ringlet of flowers in your hand. He then picked a flower not too far away from him and began very carefully weaving it into the fixed stems. “Like this…?” He questioned quietly, which made that beautiful smile of yours return to your lips.

“You got it! Now for the best part…” You hummed, taking the crown from his hands and placing it gently on top of his head. “Ta da! Now you’ve got a crown fit for the prince you are!” A gleeful giggle broke out from your chest at the adeptus’s cheeks burning brightly from your words.

“I do not deserve such a title.” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest, stubbornly looking away for a moment, only for him to shyly shift his gaze back towards you again - almost as if he couldn’t help himself. “But… Your kindness is accepted. Thank you.”

Still, even when he was surrounded with nature's finest beauty, he couldn’t take his eyes off you - by far, you outshined the flowers around you. If anything, all they did was enhance how truly radiant you were.

As the two of you laid back, with your hands resting on your stomach while you rested peacefully, he continued to stare - continued to wonder how he managed to earn the honour of having you by his side. He swallowed quietly, sitting up slowly. You seemed to have fallen asleep… Which was the perfect excuse to do what he had been wanting for the entire time he had spent with you. Carefully, with the tenderness of a falling petal, he placed a gentle kiss atop of your forehead.

��Sleep well.”

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ofsunnydays-and-moonlitnights · 17 days

Text

Another Great day of Saving the sharks.

Intro Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 <- You are Here AO3

Chapter 4 A New Fish in Town

A set of blue eyes stare at you in the dim lights.

“What do you think?”

He looks over at you then the new fish floating in the tank, then at you. His expression is unreadable.

“He’ll wake up soon.” you chime. “I think.”

He stares at you some more before he goes over to Neo and pokes his face.

You have to wait until he’s awake to put his monitor on, you’d do it while he slept but the anaesthetic would mess with the monitor and it would scream at you until he was awake.

“I could tell you how we found Neo?”

He tilts his head at you.

“Come here.” you beckon him.

He swims over. You’re not crazy, you tell yourself, that article said telling stories could help…

“So, we got a phone call…. I don’t think you’d understand that um…. Someone told us he was in danger, so we went to see him and a bunch of nasty fishermen.”

He seems to understand that as he frowns a little. You were trying your best to also tell the story with gestures as well as words, swinging your arms about.

“They were the ones that hurt him, but then they dropped him and we, me and a friend, we saved him.” you finish with a smile.

You think he understood that.

He suddenly spins around and zooms over to Neo. You notice Neo twitch as Ray swims around him checking him over. Ray then takes Neo’s face in his hands.

“I’m not sure that's a good idea…”

Neo slowly opens his eyes, blinking… his eyes then spring open, his pupils pinprick as he shoves Ray off himself.

Ray shrinks partially under the water, an apology maybe?

Neo backs away, he scans the room frantically.

“Hey, it’s ok.” you try to sound as soft as possible. You can tell this might not be as easy.

Ray tries to take his hand but Neo drags him down into the water.

You can’t quite see what’s going on from here so you head down the stairs to watch from the front of the tank.

It looks like a pretty heated conversation, Neo does not look happy. Was this a bad idea? Was finding a luna for Ray a bad idea? Was he an outcast? Did they know each other? They were found not too far from each other… you just hope they weren’t in rival villages or something… Neo leans closer to a nervous-looking Ray, seemingly scolding? Shouting, arguing? You can’t tell you just know it’s too much.

“That’s enough.”

You grab your goggles and jump in the pool. You get between them and push them away. Somehow unscathed. You’re not having them fight like this.

Neo scowls at you and Ray hides behind you. You resurface for air and they both follow. Eye contact was never lost.

“No fighting,” you demand.

Neo backs away.

You then turn to Ray. “Are you ok?” you check over him, no injuries.

“How about some food?” You swim back over to the ledge and drag yourself out of the water.

Ray eagerly followed, seeming already familiar with the word food.

You throw a fish to Ray and he happily eats it. You throw one across the tank to Neo. It splashes in front of him, he doesn’t even flinch and it floats there in front of him as he crosses his arms.

You’ve never had a lunas attitude directed at you like this before, you’ve only heard of it. You’re just a little scared.

Ray seems to notice and puts his fish down going over to Neo. He picks up his fish and offers it to Neo. Neo shakes his head and pushes it away.

Great just great, you save a shark and he doesn’t even want to eat the food you have for him. Ray drops the fish with a dramatic splash and swims to the opposite corner of the tank in a sulk.

Double great. You are so close to pulling out your hair. “It would make my life easier, he said.” you sigh. All you had to do tonight was make sure both fish were settled and feed them before you could go home and catch up on all the sleep you’d missed. It’s already getting late.

They both stay that way for a moment before you see Neo’s resolve crumble as he lowers his arms and glances at Ray… he swims over and taps Ray on the shoulder before lowering in the water so only his eyes are poking out.

Ray crosses his arms looking over his shoulder at Neo before turning away in a big humph. You see Neo seeth for just a second before he grabs the fish and swims back. Ray finally turns to him as Neo thwaps his shoulder with the fish. But Ray stares him down.

Neo rolls his eyes before he bites the fish's head off.

Ok, he’s eating. You feel a little tension leave you.

Ray keeps staring at Neo until he’s eaten the whole fish.

Once Neo’s finished Ray pulls him into a hug and spins him around with a big smile.

You really hope the clinic cameras caught all of that, it was so interesting.

Neo doesn’t look too happy with the hug but he just casually brushes it off. Ray then finally finishes off his previously discarded fish.

Now… how were you going to get Neo to wear a monitor… maybe you should have chosen to suffer the incessant blaring siren the monitor would have screamed at you while the anaesthetic was active in his system.

You put your hand out like you did for Ray, in hopes Neo would catch on.

You instead got a yellow hand placed into yours.

“Well done Ray.” you pass him a small chunk of fish you prepared earlier. He seems happy with that.

“Neo?” you look over to him. He doesn’t recognise his name yet, of course, you’re not sure Ray does yet either, but they won’t learn if you don’t use it. You look expectantly at him. He glances over while picking fish bones out of his teeth and then looks away. Oh, come on.

Ray once again places his hand in yours. You feel a glare your way.

An idea… it could fail or be a great success.

“Ray, could you.” you point to him, “Give this.” you hold the monitor, showcasing it to Ray, “To Neo.” you point to Neo.

Ray takes the monitor and looks it over, it looks like a little black box on an elasticated band. He looks to the one on his arm, back at the monitor back at you.

“Put it on Neo’s arm?” you point to your arm, then to Neo again. “Please?”

He looks around, at you, Neo, the monitor…

“It’ll help him get better.” you point to his, “and you’ll match.”

He seems to get the idea and swims over to Neo and holds his treasure up in the air.

Neo shifts to the side. Ray holds his hand out to Neo. Neo shakes his head.

You did not expect what happened next.

Ray tried to put it on Neo but he dipped under and past him. And blew bubbles at him. Ray took the challenge and lunged for him. You think the mood has been lifted but you’re not sure.

They playfully jump and swim around the pool, Ray chasing Neo like kids playing tag. Finally, Ray corners Neo. They both jolt left, then right like awkward people trying to scoot past each other. Neo makes a move, trying to slip past but Ray instead blocks his escape and slides the monitor over Neo’s arm. A champion, a victor! You actually cheer.

They pop up to the surface to see the commotion you made. You happily toss some fish bites to both of them, Neo actually accepting your offering.

Checking their vitals they both seem stable, even after sprinting around the tank a few times.

You decide to push your luck.

“Neo, come here.” you point his way and beacon him.

He looks around.

“Come here.”

Ray swims over eagerly.

“Alright, you can have one.” you toss him a fish chuck. Hopefully, it will distract him.

“Neo,” you call showing him the treat. He slowly swims over. Getting closer and closer.

You really want him to take the fish from your hand. You hold it out to him.

He’s pushed out the way as Ray takes the fish eating it in one gulp and then holds your hand with a smile.

“That was rude Ray.” You let go of his hand and give him a disapproving look. “Take turns.”

You move over to the side Neo was shoved to and offer him some fish. He takes it and swims off.

That was good progress. You sigh. “You two, look after each other ok?”

It was definitely time to head home before the lights turned off. You’ll be back in the morning just as Ray wakes up but before Neo heads to bed, you might extend dawn for a little. Maybe then you can see about starting language lessons.

#fnaf sb #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #mermoon #mersun #mermay #another great day of saving the sharks #keziha writes

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thrawns-babygirl · 1 year

Note

congratulations on 375 followers!! <3 the entire prompt list is so !!!!! but i cannot get the idea of crosshair and #12 out of my head,,,, it's making me insane

Thank you!!! this entire prompt list is just so fire right?

I hope you enjoy this one anon, i certainly enjoyed writing it.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Unprotected PiV, Cockwarming, creampie

Words: 900+

Prompt: #12 "you make such pretty sounds for me my love"

Masterlist

The two of you were currently alone in your quarters on Kamino. Crosshair had come to visit you the moment he touched down, having spent far too much time cooped up in stuffy air with his brothers.

You were knee deep in reports that had a rapidly approaching deadline as Crosshair let himself into your room and tried his best to lure you away into your bed with light kisses and nips to your neck. You were firm however, telling him that he’s waited this long another hour won’t kill him.

The words on your reports blurring together, you decide to grab the two of you a cup of caf from the small kitchenette in your room. Standing up and stretching your aching limbs you make your way over to the crappy caf machine and begin brewing two cups, standing there lost in thought you jolt slightly when his long arms wrap around you from behind.

“Come on doll, a small break won’t hurt” Cross moves his lips down to your neck again, sucking small marks into your skin as he ruts his clothed length into your behind. You close your eyes and lean into him before snapping back to your senses and pull away from him.

You turn to face him and he’s pouting.

“Go sit down, I’ll be done sooner if you stop distracting me” you attempt to sound stern, but it comes out more exasperated than anything. You turn your focus back to the caf machine in front of you before your resolve totally crumbles. You truly do want to forget the rest of your work and lose yourself in him after so long apart, but you don’t want to piss off the Kaminoans by submitting another batch of reports after the deadline was already pushed back.

With a sigh you grab both mugs and turn to make your way back to your desk, almost dropping them as you gaze upon Crosshair. He was lounging back in your desk chair, blacks in a heap on the floor as he lazily stroked himself.

“Cross what are you doing?” placing the caf down on your desk, you cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s a compromise doll, you get to keep working, and I get to feel that tight little pussy of yours” his eyes run up and down your body. He’s trying to keep up his confident façade, but you don’t miss the almost pleading edge to his voice.

“Alright, fine. Needy boy” you smile down at him as you remove the sleep shorts you were wearing as well as your panties. His eyes don’t leave your body the whole time, drinking in the sight of your skin as he spits in his hand and runs it along his length.

When you finally sink down onto him, he lets out a guttural groan at the feeling of your tight heat after so long of only having his hand. Nothing could compare. You were simply divine, and from your small whimpers of pleasure he could tell you felt the same.

It felt like an eternity, just sitting there with his cock sheathed inside of you. Every throb and twitch of his length inside you drawing out small sighs and quiet moans of pleasure as you tried to focus on the words in front of you. Crosshair had returned to your neck, placing soft kisses along your skin, nibbling on your earlobe, lightly nipping and biting before soothing his tongue over the marks he left on your flesh. One of his hands reached up beneath the thin shirt you were wearing to tweak at your nipples, making your walls to fluttering around him. You moan as he bites down particularly hard on your neck, causing you to squirm against him.

“W-why are you being such a brat tonight?” you attempt to sound stern, but your body betrays you as you let out more soft whimpers at the feeling of his length throbbing inside you.

“Because you make such pretty sounds for me my love” he purrs against the shell of your ear, his patience appears to be wearing thin as he cants his hips upwards, causing you to cry out at the sudden friction. Your work was so close to being finished. So close, just a little bit longer and you could indulge yourself in Crosshair’s body for the rest of the night.

You were so pent up from being seated on his cock for however long that when one of his hands makes its way between your thighs to rub small circles on your clit you are almost taken immediately over the edge. Your work forgotten, you lean on your desk and let him rut his hips up into your tight heat, causing the coil in your abdomen to snap as you cum over his cock crying out as the white hot pleasure overtakes you.

“That’s right princess- kark you feel so good… make more of those pretty sounds for me” he grunts out. You lie boneless against your desk as he thrusts into you, chasing his own high, placing both hands on your hips to move you up and down against him. You whimper at the oversensitivity, but your sounds only spur him on as he buries himself as deep into you as he can go, releasing himself inside you with a low groan.

You push yourself up off your desk and look at the screen in front of you, you send off the final report as his cock softens inside of you before leaning back against him and closing your eyes.

“See doll? Compromise” You can hear the smirk in his voice as you let out a soft chuckle and get up off him and head back into the kitchenette to refresh the now cold cups of caf.

@where-is-my-mind-tho@starborncyare@antishadow2021

#crosshair x reader #crosshair smut #crosshair x reader smut #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #bad batch x reader #bad batch smut #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch x reader smut #the bad batch x reader #tbb crosshair smut #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb x reader smut #tbb x reader #tbb smut

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bakeryblood · 2 years

Note

vampire eddie, biting kink, some sort of handcuff usage. go nuts.

Take It Easy

Pt. 1

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Male Reader

cw: Alcohol, Angst, Depression, Blood

Y/N shifted the van into park before pulling the keys out of the ignition. Starting out at the seemingly abandoned trailer home Wayne Munson and his Nephew used to reside in. Every time, every week you came it was always the same. The same melancholy mixed with existential dread washed over your body as you grabbed your bag and hopped out of the drivers seat, quickly heading up the short flight of stairs and creaking open the metal door.

No hats lined the walls anymore, no collection of mugs on display. Wayne had taken anything and everything of sentimental value out of the trailer when he left months ago. The day he finished packing and you’d come by as you always did he stopped filling the box and walked over to you.

“Y/N..please stop coming here…He’s not coming back.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing but as you watched the older gentleman’s resolve crumble and a tear fell from his eye you knew he was just tired of waiting and hoping that Eddie would burst through that door one night. He’d missed too much work and sleep in the last weeks and he just couldn’t stay there anymore.

You bit your lip as you looked up at the tear in the roof, insulation where the black vines used to fill the space. There were still marks on the ceiling that reminded you of burns, stretching out, making vein like patterns. Wayne took your hand and placed something small and cold into it tearing you from your thoughts as you looked down at the set of keys, quickly looking back at him and shaking your head.

“Wayne, I can’t.”

“You can and you will Y/N. Along with anything else in his room, take it. The apartment doesn’t even have enough room for most of my things..he’d rather you have it than..” He trailed off with a shuttered breath, unable to finish his thought process of taking his missing nephew’s belongings to a donation center. Y/N wanted to cry but it was as if they’d run out of tears as they felt their face get hot, going into his room was so painful he could understand Wayne preferring someone else handle the task.

Walking over to the dresser that had sheets with music and lyrics written on them, notebooks with his future campaign plans. You couldn’t read anymore. You didn’t want to continue to test your body’s ability to not break down again, but as you went and sat on the untouched bed still as messy as the last day he’d managed to pull himself out of it. You leant over and hid your face in your arms as you heard the loud noise of the box tape being stretched out and placed on the seam of the cardboard box.

________________________________________

Dust flies into the air as the old Chevy van barreled down the dirt driveway of the trailer park, the couple sitting outside of their RV hollering at the driver to ‘slow the fuck down’, that there’s kids that live here despite it being close to midnight at that point.

As Y/N stepped out and slammed the car door he looked towards the flickering out of season Christmas lights and raised the hand that wasn’t holding a six-pack of beers connected at the top by rings of plastic and flipped them the bird before making his way up to the trailer, almost tripping up the steps and bursting through the door face first, thankfully catching himself before swinging it open after a moment of struggling to get it open. It always had a habit of sticking, Wayne or Eddie would usually spray the hinges and latch with WD-40 both to avoid forcing it and to keep from disturbing the other’s sleep schedule as they tended to sleep and come home at opposite times.

The old woman looked over at her husband as he tossed another old newspaper into the small fire they had in the pit in front of them. “Been a while since anyone lived there, should we ring the police?”

Her husband scoffed and shook his head. “You old bat, that’s Wayne’s place. Either it’s one of his boys friends or another shit bird coming to use it to smoke dope. Either way, it ain’t our business..” His wife glared at his insult before standing up and pulling her robe around herself in a comforting fashion. It was true that she’d forgotten, but seeing that van pull in like a bat out of hell did seem to jog her memory.

Three months. Y/N closed and locked the trailer door behind him as he walked in and assessed the condition of a place he used to spend so much time at. Taking his lighter out of his pocket he flicked it open and the small amount of light was enough to illuminate the space of the living room and some of kitchen. Dust particles along with what was likely airborne insulation floated around as he walked around looking at the graffiti littering the walls.

‘Hawkins Local Freak: Missing’

A debatably badly drawn pentagram in red spray paint. Y/N chuckled softly and shook his head as he went to the kitchen bar and placed his beer down before pulling one from the plastic. “Never were many people as creative as you where Eddie. Not here anyway..” Y/N popped the tab on the can and tossed it back, flicking his lighter closed as he felt it begin to heat up passed a point of comfortable holding as he slammed the first beer of that pack.

This wasn’t a regular hobby of his, racing as fast as he could towards getting black out drunk. In the last six months he’d only drank one other time over at Steve’s house and quickly excused himself to go sleep off the alcohol in their bed while he kept himself company. Tonight just seemed right for it. Since Wayne abandoned the place he spent a couple months visiting the home, spending time with what items of Eddie’s he’d left there. His guitar for one. Occasionally he would see that the curtain in the window had been moved to the side, bunched up slightly and he’d rush inside to find no signs anyone had really been there.

Eddie had been a big influence in Hawkins, both good and bad. The kids looked up to him so much and missed the head of hellfire dearly whilst others still considered it a good thing he had ‘skipped town’ after the cult leader accusations arose. Y/N knew he would have wanted him to do everything he could to look after Dustin, keep Steve from teachin’ him wrong. He knew he would have wanted you to take his campaign notes and keep hellfire alive.

But you failed. You gave up. You dropped out of school and slowly allowed yourself to drift away from the teens, unable to keep hearing their concerned voices as they asked you if you were okay almost every day. You could read them just as well as they could read you. They knew you weren’t okay and you knew they didn’t believe you when you said you were.

“I’m sorry Eddie..I miss you so fucking much..” Y/N leaned over on to the counter they had kept a hand on as to not get lost in the dark and they rocked. As unhealthy as it had been for him to continue to hold out hope, he felt so empty now. Like Eddie would have really let him have it if they saw him now. ‘Drinking is supposed to be fun you idiot.’

‘Wow, six months and you give up on me?’

Y/N wiped his eyes and felt for the wet, condensation covered cans of beer as he desperately held onto those thoughts. Their voice was still fresh in his mind. ‘Look on the bright side, at least you got to keep all my cool shit!’ Y/N grabbed his lighter after popping the top on the can and headed off for the bedroom, which was surprisingly in much better condition. Where the living room had been littered with cans, bottles and cigarette butts stomped out into the carpet Eddie’s room seemed untouched.

Considering how many of the people who detested him were all talk, more likely to be fearful of what might happen if they actually happened to run across the man who had been missing for the last six months, it wasn’t all that surprising. The bed was still as Y/N had left it on one of his many visits, making up the sheets. Besides his books, notes and stereo you had left everything else. Walking over to the rack of cassette tapes you set the open lighter on the tall dresser and left for your Walkman in your pocket before squinting to read the messily scribbled band names on the mixtapes.

‘1983-1986’ Pretty straight to the point for Eddie who tended to label his tapes with a silly name or label the vibe to them unless it was an actual bands tape he bought. Y/N stuck the cassette in his Walkman and slipped the headset off his neck and atop his head, listening as he looked over his shelves of things, cigar boxes he used for different little items. Movie ticket stubs, jewelry, the occasional banished DnD die or photograph.

Opening one that seemed to sit on top, first thing his eyes landed on was a tiny bag of white powder. Y/N’s head dropped as he sat the box down and picked the baggy up, rolling his thumb over the top of it. The light from his lighter disappeared as it fell over and Y/N stood up quickly from his crouched position next to the bookshelf, hands stretched out to feel his way until a faint red glow shown through the cracked bedroom door just enough for him to see his silver lighter laying on its side atop the dresser.

Y/N looked from it to the bedroom door and after pocketing it he slowly made his way over, stopping only for a moment to grab Eddie’s baseball bat from his very brief stent of little league that sat behind his door whenever it was open. Held at his side as he walked down the wall trepidation building more and more the brighter the red tint seemed to get. Like he had been transported into a photographers darkroom. It was the gate.

Y/N’s breath caught in his chest as he stared it down, part of him wanting to rush out and tell the others. So they could bring Eleven to close it. But the rest of him fought against those thought, what if he was still in there? Y/N felt the tears begin to bubble up in his eyes once again as he made his way to stand under it, gripping the metal beer can in his hand tightly before tossing it up through the portal as hard as he could as the track on the tape clicked to the next song, ‘Master of Puppets’. He couldn’t take this anymore.

Y/N ripped the Walkman from his pocket taking the headset with it and threw it against the wall of the trailer affectively smashing it to pieces as he screamed in anger. Crying was no longer enough for him to regulate his emotions, hell, it had never seemed to do much anyway. “Fuck you! Fuck you Eddie! You damn bastard! You always talked about being a coward, why couldn’t you just run!” Y/N held the sides of his head, the level of their own voice gave a headache the opportunity to start forming.

As he couched down holding himself he heard something that caused him to slowly pull his hands away from their face, uncovering their ears as they slowly turned their head in the direction of the kitchen. It had sounded like something or, someone, had opened and closed the fridge that sat currently inoperational given the trailer didn’t have electricity currently running to it. It was hard to make out anything for certain with the red cast over everything, shadows seemed darker.

“Well damn Y/N, tell me how you really feel.” Snapping their face forward at the voice coming from above them, they were finally ready to admit, they had lost it.

Eddie Munson, in all his glory, wasn’t just there in front of them. Being alive would have been enough to make them faint, but the fact that he had been levitating momentarily. You watched, shaking slightly as he slowly lowered to the floor. His black boots leaving soot and ash on the already filthy carpet as he stared down at you. “Y-You’re…alive?”

He attempted to suppress a smile as he tilted his head back and forth, his dirty hair, crunchy with dried blood swaying as he did. “I wouldn’t say that.” Y/N’s eyes scanned him over in more detail. Taking in his torn, blood stained hellfire shirt, he’d lost his outside layers they had left him there in, his bandana was tied around his neck and his injuries were healed from what you could tell.

Y/N scrambled up off the floor and leaned in closer to him causing Eddie to recoiled a few steps back as the young man made his advances. How fucking dare he. You didn’t care if this was a hallucination or what but this version of Eddie wasn’t going to just run away from you. “You— Piece of shit! Come here!” Y/N grabbed their arm and quickly pulled their hand away. He had heard the Byers youngest child talk about the upside down and how he felt like he never could quiet shake the cold it left him with.

But this was different. If you had ever once had the opportunity to feel a cadavers skin that’s what it must’ve felt like. Frozen. “Y/N..” You were now the one backing away from them. This wasn’t real.. And if it was, it wasn’t Eddie.

“You aren’t real..”

Eddie feigned a hurt expression and held up his arm, dirty with black marks. “You felt me, I’m here. I’m real.” Y/N shook his head as he felt his lower back press against the edge of the kitchen counter that separated one area from the other. “This is a sick joke my mind is playing on me. I’m..”

Eddie seemed to grow irritated at the notion that he was just a figment of your imagination. Three months alone in that hellscape and the first chance he got to escape this was his welcome home party? “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better for you Ed, I’m sorry I let them leave you there.”

In a split second he was on you, it almost was like the counter shook from the force of his hands coming into contact with it to stop himself. “Y/N, you’ve been my friend since middle school. I’m back now, so save the obituary, please.” He growled as your eyes were locked onto each others. That was true, you had been friends since middle school, and this was the first time Munson ever had made the hair on the back of your stand up.

You saw him give a hard swallow before pushing himself back off the counter and walking away from you again, he seemed like he wanted to keep a solid eight feet between you at all times. You just couldn’t do that, despite how filthy he was the moment your brain accepted the fact that he was truly there you rushed him, wrapping your arms around him as he threw his up in the air. “Y/N, stop. You need to get off of me.”

“Save it Munson, you can yell at me later.” You pressed your face against his neck and it was the same as his arm, though perhaps the shock in the moment made your senses exaggerate the feeling.

“Y/N…Why do you think that place suddenly let me leave like it did?” You lifted your shoulders in a shrug, letting them drop back to normal as he slowly let his hands creep up you, one resting on your lower back and the other coming up to rest between your shoulder blades. “It’s because it wanted me to..”

“I don’t care Eddie, that’s so far from being important right now. I don’t care how you made it out, you’re here now.” You we’re so scared if you pulled away he would just disappear. Proving to be a hallucination after all. The silence between you was so loud until Eddie finally spoke up again.

“Y/N..I’m sorry…” You lifted your head up to look at him before you felt the sharp pain of him biting into the crook of your neck, sharp teeth sinking into it you were the consistency of an apple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and surprisingly it was quite easy to pull him off of your neck, although not a comfortable feeling. Reaching up to guard the bleeding wound you stared at him in disbelief as he breathed heavily, standing there as if he was torn between making a break for it and leaping upon you like a wild animal.

“Y-you bit me!” You looked over at the front door before making a few long, quick strides for it. The wet, warm sensation of the blood slicking your hand as the man stayed where he was, licking his bottom lip as he watched you begin your attempt to leave.

“I told you to back off didn’t I?” As you pulled the handle a few times, cursing as you pulled your bloody hand off your neck to use both of them on the ‘stupid jammed piece of shit door’ until you felt him on you again, pressing himself against your back and your front against the cold metal trailer door. “Don’t make me force this, I don’t want it to hurt more than it has to—“

“Stop it! This is one of your horror comics Eddie, you don’t need—“ His hand went to the back of your head, pressing the side of your face it against the door roughly as he moved his face beside yours growling before speaking.

“Because you know what this feels like? To feel absolutely nothing for fuck knows how long and finally after getting back your skin begins to crawl.” He clenched his jaw as he nuzzled his head against yours. “Begging you to give in to your new instincts in exchange for saving you from death, you know that feeling?” He didn’t want to do it to you, out of anyone not you. But you were here. You were so warm. He could smell the remnants of cologne on your skin and the beer on your breath. He could taste the ethanol in your blood.

“Then..fucking doing it..” Perhaps under different circumstances, when his mind wasn’t overtaken by the need to feed, he would have hesitated. Lacing his fingers into your hair he gave your head a tug to the side to better expose the mark he had made earlier, giving you a small taste of payback for yanking him off of you the way you had.

As he took up the space again, mouth working over the wound you couldn’t help but allow yourself to feel a sense of hedonistic pleasure from it. Adrenaline fought the pain back while your touch starved skin was ravaged by him, once the first mark at clotted he bit down again. You only had yourself to blame being the one who stopped him earlier, now in no position to do so again. You groaned in pain as he pulled out of your flesh only for a moment to come back down, doing his best to suction as much blood from the wound before lapping at it.

It wasn’t most lucrative way for him to get what he wanted but between his animalistic urges and what he had known from his horror comics you’d mentioned, it was all he knew to do in the moment. And once he had gotten enough to finally push himself away from you the both of you realized the gate had again gone dormant leaving you in the pitch black darkness once again. He could see you perfectly fine as you turned around and looked around blindly holding your tender, painful neck.

He was truly disgusted with himself, the type of shame a young boy feels the first time they touch themselves. He felt like a monster, he knew he was a monster. He wasn’t the Eddie you knew anymore and he proved it. “Eddie..?”

You felt your pockets for the lighter you’d forgotten about until then and flicked it on, holding it up as you walked forward towards the figure leaning over with his arms against the wall of the trailer, his back facing you as he attempted to heave. Before you could get close enough to reach out and touch him he spoke up. “Get the fuck away from me Y/N!”

You scoffed lightly offended at his aggressive tone, you were past being scared of him. “You already ate, Dracula. I’m not leaving you here anyways.” You had wanted to tell him to calm down, that you were the one with multiple punctures in your neck right now, but the way he was looking at you like you were the deranged one in this scenario made you hold back.

“And what, I’ll just hide in your closet during the day?” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the kitchen bar, picking up the van keys and jingling them at him. “You don’t even know if you ‘can’t go out in the sun’ yet, But I do know that you fuckin’ smell.”

#stranger things #stranger things one shot #stranger things x male reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x m!reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x male!reader #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x reader #angst fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you

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labellefleur-sauvage · 11 months

Text

The Highland Fox and The English Rose

Elain Archeron, the middle daughter of an enterprising English merchant, has been raised with one goal in mind: become the wife of a respectable Englishman. Everything else—her interests, her desires—didn’t matter. But when her father convinces her to enter into an arranged marriage with a brutal Scottish Laird to save their family from ruin, Elain is suddenly forced to reevaluate everything she thought she wanted in life.

As the newly appointed Laird of a derelict clan with a crumbling castle, marriage was the last thing on Lucien’s mind. His entire life is thrown into disarray when he is forced into a marriage contract he didn’t sign, to an Englshwoman he’d never met.

But Lucien harbors a dark, ruinous secret that affects more than just himself, and he is determined to resolve the issue at hand. Together, the Highland Fox and the English Rose will go on a journey that will force Elain and Lucien together—or drive them apart.

For @elucienweekofficial 2023 Day 7! This is my first ever long fic and I've been working on this since February. This is my ode to historical romances, my favorite romance genre, and I hope to do it justice over the course of however many chapters this ends up being.

Huge thank you to @kingofsummer93 for beta-ing this first chapter and providing some great feedback.

One last thank you to the Elucien Week 2023 organizers-you all made this such an exciting and successful event, with so much great content made by so many talented people, all while being so positive and fun. I can't wait to catch up on all the amazing fics and drawings that's been shared this past week!

Read on AO3. Lots of chapter notes and research are included in the AO3 chapter notes!

XXX

Chapter 1: Scenes of Woe

Lucien was finding it increasingly difficult to plan a daring rescue when he was being interrupted every five minutes.

“Come in,” he grumbled, shoving papers and maps off his desk as the familiar three-rap knock landed on the other side of the large wooden door.

“Sir,” Dougal’s wizened voice croaked around the door before the wrinkled face of the castle’s steward popped around the corner. “Mr. Archeron is here for his appointment.”

“Shit,” Lucien grunted, shoveling even more papers into desk drawers. He had been dreading this particular meeting for months. The money he’d have to pay that poor girl’s father was bound to be hefty. He flapped the heavy curtains, a wave of dust exploding around him, then snapped his eyepatch over his face and smoothed his long, red hair back. “Can ye delay him for a few more—“

“Laird Macpherson,” an oily voice boomed over the threshold of his office. Dougal scurried out of the way as an old man, his face and body soft with age but his eyes still hard, hobbled into the room. His cane tapped a steady beat that drowned out the hammering of Lucien’s heart. “A pleasure.”

“Mr. Archeron,” Lucien said, standing politely as his guest made his way towards his large oaken desk. “Please, take a seat.”

“Did you forget about our appointment?” Mr. Archeron’s beady eyes darted around the room, taking in his cluttered desk, the threadbare rug under his feet, and Lucien’s flustered appearance. He sat down heavily in the creaky chair in front of Lucien’s desk, wrapping his cloak around his body as if to protect himself from the small layer of dust coating the chair. The old man dropped a sleek black case next to him on the ground. “Perhaps you couldn’t see it jotted down in your calendar, if you even use one.”

“Of course no’,” Lucien lied smoothly, sitting down and ignoring the clear jab to his missing eye, even as Mr. Archeron’s comment rankled him. He wanted to smooth the wrinkles out of his white shirt and plaid kilt, but thought the action would make it more obvious that Lucien hadn’t dressed that morning with the thought of meeting with anyone in mind. “As Laird, many issues pop up at a moment’s notice that need swift and immediate attention.”

“And my beloved daughter’s hand in marriage is not one of those concerns?” Straight to the issue at hand, then. Mr. Archeron’s eyes no longer tracked the room like a hawk—they settled on Lucien’s face with an intensity that reminded him of a wolf waiting to pounce on its prey.

Lucien gave the man across from him a tight lipped smile. “Quite the opposite,” he gritted out. “It is simply quite unfortunate that there have been several… personal issues I’ve been dealing with since assuming the title as Laird.”

Mr. Archeron’s eyes narrowed. “Personal, hm? Wouldn’t have anything to do with your banishment, would it? I heard about that nasty business, the rumors I heard all the way up here... How are you liking your new surname?” One side of his lips curled in distaste, making it clear what the older gentleman thought.

Lucien ground his teeth and tempered his breathing; he was still getting used to the Macpherson name, not to mention his new title and the responsibilities that came with it, but he would never admit that to the man sitting across from him.

“I expect ye want to break the bethroyal?” Lucien deflected, his voice tight. Better to get this over with, rather than be insulted by this pompous Englishman the entire afternoon.

“Oh, that was my initial thought, to be sure,” the man said, reclining in his chair. “How could I possibly give my precious daughter’s hand away in marriage to a newly appointed, banished, potentially nameless, disfigured Laird? I simply couldn’t—the shame it would bring upon the family.”

Mr. Archeron was gloating, taking clear delight in insulting Lucien while he had the chance. Lucien gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white as he felt the growing rage inside him. This selfish, self-serving Englishman knew nothing of humiliation. How dare he come into Lucien’s home, his office, and talk of shame, of being pulled down so low that it felt like one was falling down into a pit, farther and farther from the sun—

“But then,” Mr. Archeron continued, like Lucien wasn’t moments away from leaping over the desk and strangling him, “I heard some very interesting stories about you. Apparently you’re a bit of a shrewd businessman yourself—you’ve made connections with different lords and lairds across Scotland over the years, and as soon as you were made laird of this ramshackled estate, all your high and mighty acquaintances entered into formal trade routes with you. Trade routes that greatly benefit you.” The man sneered at him, like he was upset at being outdone. “The ‘Highland Fox,’ they call you. As much as I detest it, you’re a very well connected man with these trade contracts. Trade contracts that I want a part of.”

Lucien was silent, his brows furrowed. He expected—hoped, really—that this meeting would end in the broken bethroyal thrust on him courtesy of his dead relative, not a confirmation of it. He cleared his throat, stunned. “Ye—what?”

“I want you to marry my daughter, and I want full access to your new trade routes in order to establish stores for the various goods and sundries I sell.” Mr. Archeron steepled his fingers underneath his chin, looking smug like he just beat the King himself in a game of chess.

Lucien was flabbergasted, staring at him open mouthed. “Those are no’ the terms of the original marriage contract.”

“This contract?” Mr. Archeron said, reaching down into his case and extracting an impeccably preserved sheath of hand written papers. “The marriage contract that gives me the sole discretion to alter it? Your great uncle or cousin or whoever he was must have been exceedingly desperate to accept these terms to try to save his clan from financial ruin by agreeing to marry one of my daughters in exchange for her dowry. But he did manage to tie the marriage contract to whoever the Laird was, rather than specifically to him, so maybe cleverness runs in your family.”

Lucien pursed his lips, no longer worrying about keeping himself calm. “While ye have the sole ability to alter the terms of the marriage contract,” he pushed out, “that doesnae mean it is automatically accepted. I can still back out or cancel the contract all together.”

“Yes, and then you’d have to repay that portion of the dowry already sent months and months ago, plus pay a contractually obligated twenty-five percent interest on that amount. For any hardship towards my wonderful daughter. Now,” Mr. Archeron said, looking around the office with false interest, “where do you suppose you’ll get that money from?”

Lucien felt murderous. It was true the estate was hard strapped for money at the moment—the curtains were looking a bit worn, and the roof leaked in a few places—but in a few months, when trade started up, he expected a steady and plentiful cash flow to start repairs and upkeep.

And so, apparently, did Mr. Archeron.

“Ye don’t care that yer favorite daughter is to marry someone like me? That she’ll be in a loveless marriage in a foreign land, rarely able to see her family after this?” Lucien couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice. He cared nothing for his betrothed—the less he had to do with England and its people, the better—but still, Lucien didn’t want this poor woman to be miserable, which she would undoubtedly be if her father forced them to marry.

Mr. Archeron shrugged. “She’ll be married to a laird, running an estate. It’s all she’s been taught to do. At the very least, I’ll make sure she’s the best dressed lady north of the border.” He tutted. “It is a shame she’ll he wed to a worthless, one-eyed laird—“

“Good thing my cock wasn’t taken from me then,” Lucien said savagely, standing up so quickly his chair tipped over. “While yer peddling yer little trinkets, I’ll have yer daughter’s legs spread around me. Yer grandchildren will be mine, and they’ll be Scottish,” he ended viciously, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Any self respecting Englishman wouldn’t have even imagined marrying a family member off to a Scotsman in the first place. If they did, they would have thrown fists at Lucien at the first utterance of what would happen to his daughter in the marital bed, if not shoot him point blank in the chest.

Mr. Archeron clearly was not made of the same cloth as his countrymen.

He stared up at Lucien, unimpressed by his outburst. “As is the fate of all women. I have three daughters—I accepted their futures long ago. Besides, the other two I’ll marry off to good Englishmen. One of them will give me an acceptable grandson to inherit the family business.”

Lucien sneered at the worthless man in front of him. “Yer despicable.”

Mr. Archeron cocked an eyebrow. “That’s business. How about this? We don’t have to add permanent stores to the terms of the marriage contract. We’ll just add that as part of the negotiations, you will provide me with beneficial contacts and introductions that will assist me and my business, that l be allowed to tour your trade routes at my leisure, making small business as I go, to ensure my investment is paying off, and appoint agents to sell my goods directly.”

“How is that any different than having full access to my trade routes?”

“I won’t set up any permanent stores or stops but I’ll still be able to compete for business with you… Highlanders.” Mr. Archeron said the last part like he had sucked on a lemon. “It’s not a bad deal. Besides,” he gave Lucien a wry grin, “you’re too proud—I think a bit of groveling will be good for you.”

After all the injustices and insults he had suffered over the past months, this conversation was easily the worst of them. He snatched Mr. Archeron’s copy of the contract out of his hands and made a show of reading it, all the while his brain worked on a way out of this.

Option one: he could rip up the contract right here and now and suffer the financial consequences. Lucien wracked his mind for things he could sell for some extra money: he had already sold most of the keep’s paintings and tapestries and silver pieces to pay off all the debt his cousin or second uncle or whoever he was had saddled him with when he had the poor sense to die suddenly and leave this place to him. There wasn’t much more he could do—a skeleton crew worked the castle and grounds, and to raise rents and prices on his tenants would be inhumane, not to mention would probably lead to a revolt that would end with his head on a spike.

Option two: Lucien could agree to the new terms and wed this lecherous man’s poor, probably ugly, and spoiled daughter. He would gain some immediate money, which would be nice, but they would make each other miserable. He’d grow old with a cold bed, a frigid wife and a domineering father in law in Mr. Archeron who would squeeze Lucien for any use he had, all while reminding Lucien what he truly thought of all Scotsmen and his one eyed son-in-law with a permanent sneer on his bloated face.

Mr. Archeron had one thing right: some people did call him The Highland Fox, and it wasn’t for his red hair alone. There must be another solution.

He stood up and turned away from the man in question, looking out the window behind his desk. Despite the abysmal mood in his office, the weather outside displayed an uncharacteristically warm Scottish summer day. The bright sun glinted off the waters of the small loch near the castle, and Lucien could see all manners of birds flying above and around the forest that lay right outside the castle walls.

For all the beauty that surrounded him, Lucien would give it all back if it meant he’d never arrived in this castle to begin with. When the official letter addressed to him arrived at Vassa’s castle six months ago, Lucien thought it was a joke at best, or another plot at worst. He knew of the Macphersons and his own tenuous relationship with the clan, but assumed there were a number of able-bodied men in line for the title.

Apparently not. If he couldn’t assume the title as Laird, then no one could, and the land would break out into war. Only Lucien, born with noble blood but without any claims to any other title, could be named Laird of Clan Macpherson.

He reluctantly accepted and arrived at a derelict castle and a ledger with so much red in it, it reminded him of a giant herd of Scottish red deer. From that day on, he was bound to the clan and land he now claimed.

And here he was, about to be tied down in yet another way.

Were there more options? There had to be. Lucien darted a glance behind him to find Mr. Archeron leaning forward on his cane, staring at him like he could see the gears turning in Lucien’s head and coming to the same conclusion he had: he would have to marry.

But perhaps he didn’t have to marry now, Lucien realized, his heart racing. If he could further delay the marriage until a time he had the funds to pay back the money and interest owed, then he could break the contract with no further consequence.

“Perhaps ye’d agree to a compromise, Mr. Archeron,” Lucien began, using the most pleasant tone he could muster under the circumstances, righting his desk chair. “I’m sure ye’d agree that yer daughter could do better than to marry someone like me with such a… precarious background. I’m sure she doesnae want this either. If ye give me six months to acquire the funds, I’m sure I can pay back any money owed for the contract and we can all be on our way.”

Mr. Archeron smiled, and Lucien knew he had fallen into a trap. He tutted. “Oh, if only,” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “But you see, all three of my daughters are already on the way here—I rode up a few days ahead of them, to work out the finer details of the marriage contract. They’re expecting to be greeted by the new laird and Elain married soon after. In fact, we’ve already formally announced the marriage, and sent runners ahead to notify Lairds across Scotland of the wedding. How it would break their hearts to be so rudely turned away. Not to mention, the shock it would cause to my poor, poor Elain. This would ruin her; she’d never be able to marry, never have a family of her own. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“What do I care about some ruined Englishwoman?” Lucien snapped. “One less Englishwoman around to make more of you miserable bastards, the better.”

“You may be a brutal Scotsman,” Mr. Archeron snarled, “but you’re still a Laird and a gentleman, and bound to honor the codes of your birth.”

Lucien laughed dryly. As a born and bred Scotsman, Lucien was obligated to hate the English. The emotions coursing throughout his body now at the man in front of him made those general feelings tame in comparison.

Evil. This man was pure evil. In the back of his mind, Lucien wondered how Mr. Archeron would stand being in the small chapel tucked away in the castle where the wedding would occur, as he didn’t think the man would be able to step foot in a consecrated church without bursting into flames.

How cold-hearted of the man in front of him to use his daughter as a bargaining chip for his own gain. To turn the woman away at what was practically her wedding ceremony—especially to an outsider like Lucien—would cause a scandal and she would be ruined from society. Lucien shouldn’t care about that - shouldn’t care about this woman he still had yet to meet—but he knew from experience what fate befell women who had lost society’s grace and couldn’t have that guilt on his conscience.

He was trapped and he knew it.

Elain. A pretty name for the woman who would undoubtedly be his ruin.

“Yer a right bastard,” Lucien gritted out, shaking his head in disgust at Mr. Archeron’s lecherous grin. “Make your damn changes to the contract and I’ll review them.”

Triumph blazed in his eyes. “And the Fox is cornered,” Mr. Archeron whispered to himself. “Very good, Laird. Very good. I’ll just take that back and make the necessary changes…”

Lucien numbly let the man dictate his entire future away. He could do nothing but quietly stare as his life withered before his own eyes, everything suddenly looking a bit grayer. He didn’t even notice he was initialing the new terms of the contract until he dipped his quill in ink to sign his name at the end of the paper.

Just like in his old life, he was shackled by forces and people outside of his control. Instead of an iron collar around his throat, this time it was to be an iron ring around his finger.

The carriage wheel dipped into another hole in the dirt road and Elain grimaced.

“God, my ass is already sore—I can’t take much more of this.”

“Feyre!” Nesta snapped. “Don’t use that language!”

“Who cares? We’re the only ones here and no one can hear us.”

Elain let the familiar bickering between her two sisters wash over her as she let her mind soften and relax. It would be odd to not hear their daily fights anymore.

She smothered a sigh. This is what she had been born and bred by her mother to do: ignore any confrontation and noise, mind her manners, never speak unless spoken to, and be a gracious host and wife, all for her future husband.

What a shame that a wild, uncultured Scotsman would benefit from her gentle upbringing.

“Elain?”

She turned to see Nesta staring worriedly at her.

“How are you doing?” she asked gently.

There it was, that pitying tone of voice Nesta used whenever she spoke to Elain anymore. Out of the three Archeron sisters Elain was undoubtedly the most fragile and delicate but she was no longer the sensitive child she’d once been. She was a grown woman, truthfully past marrying age, and yet Nesta still clucked after her like a mother hen.

It was exhausting.

“I’m fine,” Elain said pleasantly. “Just… imagining all the tasks I’ll have, managing a whole household to myself.”

Feyre rolled her eyes but Nesta nodded appreciatively—whether she approved of Elain’s train of thought or just because that way she didn’t have to console her nerve wrecked sister, Elain wasn’t sure. “You’ll have to arrange feasts, hire staff, plan visits to other castles—“

Feyre sighed. “That sounds dreadful. Deciding what to serve at feasts and managing maids, is that what you really want Elain? You’re far more interesting than that.”

Elain paused. Was she truly more interesting than that? She knew how to make polite conversation, appear demure in front of guests, could passably sew as a hobby and play enough piano to pass the time and entertain others. What more did she have to offer?

“I could get us out.” Feyre stared intently at Elain, taking her hesitant silence for agreement. “I brought my bow and arrows. We could leap out of the carriage and make our way through the woods, scavenging as we go. I’ll get us rabbits—“

Nesta scoffed. “You got lucky three times over eight years and managed to shoot some mangy rabbits. Father wouldn’t even let you take them to the kitchen so they could be prepared. How did you manage to pack your bow and arrow?”

“And we can leave this stupid Scottish Laird business behind us,” Feyre finished, ignoring Nesta completely.

Ah, Feyre. If it wasn’t Nesta downright coddling her, it was Feyre protecting her in the only way she knew how: doing her best to provide for the family by hunting in the forests surrounding their country estate, even if she truly didn’t need to. Perhaps Feyre just wanted to get out of the house and away from her more domestic sisters.

Between two headstrong sisters, maybe it was no surprise that Elain often fell to the wayside, too quiet to branch out herself and develop her own sense of self.

“That’s very kind of you Feyre,” Elain said placatingly. “Don’t worry yourself over me. I did agree to the marriage, after all.”

“Only because Father guilted you into it,” Feyre snapped.

“Feyre!” Nesta snapped. “Stop it! This marriage is an… excellent… opportunity for Elain.”

Elain stifled a snort. Excellent opportunity, her ass. She knew for as long as she could remember that her one purpose in life was to be someone’s wife—she just figured it would be to an Englishman. When Father summoned her to his disorderly office late one afternoon nearly a year ago, Elain assumed it was to give his blessing to her suitor at the time, Graysen Nolan.

Imagine her surprise when Father told her that the family was teetering on financial ruin and needed Elain to make a strategic alliance for the long-term good of the family. The son of an unknown general wouldn’t do, Father tutted sadly. And as there were no other local families that he claimed were good enough for his precious daughter, the only solution was to look up.

And by ‘up,’ he meant North: north of the wall that separated England from Scotland, from civilization from utter barbarity.

Elain clenched her hands. Ultimately, she agreed—she knew how difficult it would be for Father to marry off one daughter from an upstart merchant family, but three—but she couldn’t help but be disappointed in the decision. For a brief, shining few weeks, she thought she’d be able to marry Graysen for love, respect and familiarity. He was her choice.

And now, she was being trundled in the family’s rickety second carriage to her unknown husband in Scotland. This Laird was not her choice.

“Excellent opportunity, my ass,” Feyre grumbled. “He’s Scottish! I hear they eat people! And that they drink the blood of their enemies like wine!”

“Feyre!”

“Their men wear skirts with nothing underneath so their pricks are exposed—“

“Where did you hear all this?!”

“And they live in dirt huts and wear rags, and eat sheep stomachs, and worship faeries! They’re heathens!”

“Feyre, I am going to throw you from this carriage if you don’t shut your mouth right now! You’re upsetting Elain!” Nesta was breathing hard and glaring at her youngest sister. Feyre must have seen the truth of her statement on Elain’s face, as she didn’t say anything back.

“Sorry Elain,” her younger sister winced, seeing how wan her sister had gotten. “I heard Isaac saying he read a new publication about Scotland and it said those things. He’s dumber than his pigs though, so he probably made it all up.”

“Of course,” Elain said quietly, looking out the window again. But Feyre had brought up one of her most profound disappointments with her marriage: that it would be to a savage Scot. The fact that he was titled according to Scottish customs was no comfort. She doubted they were as evil as Feyre believed, but it was true that the Scottish were a bloodthirsty, violent sort, even if they claimed to no longer uphold those traditions.

But Father wouldn’t send her into the wild Scottish Highlands to be married to some man who would neglect her, Elain reasoned, calming down. Father wouldn’t abandon her like that. She wasn’t an item to be sold, like the many goods he sold and bought from all over the world.

Would he?

“Do you know anything about your future husband?” Nesta asked in mock cheer. “Er, the new one, I mean. Father has been rather tight-lipped about him.”

Technically, the current Laird was not the same man who had agreed to marry Elain. He had passed unexpectedly and his relation—a second cousin or grandnephew or something—inherited the marriage contract, which was tied not to the man, but to whoever was named Laird of Clan Macpherson, ensuring that Elain would have a Laird for a husband, no matter what.

“I don’t know much,” Elain admitted. “Just that he’s younger than the old Laird, and his name is Lucien.”

“Laird Lucien Macpherson,” Feyre hummed, tapping her chin. “Lucien doesn’t sound very Scottish, does it?”

“Maybe he’s French!” Nesta said excitedly, holding Elain’s hand and smiling at her with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Elain felt a stab of appreciation for Nesta—she knew this was difficult for Elain, and was trying her best to lighten the load her sister bore. “Maybe he has family on the continent, and we can all go on vacation together someday!”

“I’ve heard rumors about him. I’ve heard,” Feyre interrupted, her voice lowering to a whisper, “that he’s a bastard.”

It was silent for a moment. “Oh come now, dear,” Elain yawned, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he’s not any worse than the Englishmen we grew up around. Cousin Edmund was a right terror up until he married and he’s settled down a bit.” She resumed her vigil of the dramatic scenery outside the carriage. “Where would you even hear something like that anyways?”

There was a thump on the carriage floor. Feyre gasped and Elain whipped her head up to see Feyre rubbing her leg, glaring at Nesta.

“Silly me,” Nesta said primly, shooting a quick dagger-filled glance at Feyre. “My leg spasmed due to all this sitting and accidentally struck Feyre.”

“Are you alright?” Elain asked, looking between her sisters concernedly.

“Uh, oh yes!” Feyre smiled weakly at Elain, then frowned at Nesta. “Nesta has quite the strength to her. I’m sure it’ll be fine, just a bit sore.”

“Perhaps with a sore leg you’ll stop harassing the local wildlife with your feeble attempts at hunting them with your bow and arrow,” Nesta said slyly, curling her lip in Feyre’s direction.

Feyre gasped in outrage. “At least I go outside every once in a while! What have you ever done besides sit on your ass—“

“Feyre, language, for god’s sake!”

Content that all attention was no longer on her, Elain let her head hit the back of the seat. She sighed deeply. She tried to mimic Nesta’s optimism but couldn’t shake Feyre’s foreboding words and opinions.

In a few days time, she would be married to a Scottish Highland laird. Who knew what he would be like? Maybe he’d be a brutal warrior who’d claw at her on their wedding night, demanding her maidenhead in the marriage bed without a second thought to her feelings. Or perhaps he’d be as old as her father, and she’d be more caretaker than wife.

Elain took a deep breath to settle the knot in her stomach. There was no point in imagining something she had no control over, even though her lack of agency rankled her still. She was angry and disappointed at the situation, but what could she do?

Nesta and Feyre were still bickering, their voices a steady undercurrent to her turmoil. Their stupid argument unexpectedly angered her. Here she was, about to be hand delivered to a brutal Scotsman, and all her sisters could do was to snap at each other like they did every day.

At least I’ll be away from them in Scotland.

The thought surprised Elain. She loved her sisters, strong willed and loud as they were. How could she be so uncharitable as to be excited at the idea of being away from them?

Perhaps because you’ll finally be able to determine what you want for yourself, and not what Nesta and Feyre want.

What did Elain want? She couldn’t say for certain. She had been raised with clear expectations of what her future would entail but beyond that… she was nothing. No interests or hobbies besides those chosen for her; even her playmates had been carefully picked, the only thought going towards what would help her future marriage prospects and not her happiness.

Feyre’s earlier statement came back to her: You’re far more interesting than that, Elain. That was very nice of her younger sister to say, as Elain didn’t even think that of herself. All of her life and upbringing had been built towards Elain being the wife of a well-to-do Englishman, perhaps a Lord or even an Earl.

But now, no longer bound by those expectations of her life in England, something new awaited her.

It was a ludicrous idea—that upon her marriage to a Scottish devil, Elain could possibly experience the sort of freedom she didn’t know was even possible. She’d be shackled to her husband and his whims.

But surely he would be too busy to constantly keep an eye on her, Elain thought hopefully. He was a Laird, some type of bizarre Scottish ruler, so he probably didn’t spend too much time at the keep, or kept odd hours due to… whatever it is he did. She’d probably have plenty of time to herself: time to discover her own interests and things she wanted, rather than what others dictated to her.

No, she decided, this marriage, though not ideal, could provide Elain with something she’d never had until now: an opportunity to be away from her family and learn more about herself. It was an adventure, though certainly not as daring or dangerous as Feyre would have liked.

As Elain gazed at the lush hills and wild, windswept cliffs and crags about her, she suddenly felt cautiously hopeful. And if it had to come at the cost of an arranged marriage with a Scottish laird, then that was a price she was willing to pay.

#elucienweek2023 #pro elucien #elucien #elucien fanfic #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #acotar #my fic #my fics #my first long fic!#a long time in the making #feat. Scottish!Lucien #is he wearing anything under the kilt #maybe you'll find out in a few chapters #a court of thorns and roses

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stargazer-sims · 2 years

Text

reminiscing

Audrey: Do you think we should redecorate in here?

Matthew: What would you turn this room into if we redecorated it?

Audrey: I don't know. I suppose I was just thinking out loud. I don't imagine Artie is ever planning to move back in with us, and we should be doing something with this space.

Matthew: Speaking of Artie, now that we've got a grandbaby on the way, maybe we could turn this into a room for them. Or we could make it into a guest room for when your parents or our out-of-town friends come to stay.

Audrey: A guest room is a good idea. It'd certainly be a lot better than having guests sleeping on an air mattress in the office.

Matthew: If we do redecorate, it’ll be strange, trying not to think of this as Artie’s room.

Audrey: Remember when we first moved in? How excited he was about us letting him choose his own furniture?

Matthew: I remember Stephen and Grace helping me put together this bed and desk, and Grace making fun of him because she knows more about tools than he does.

Audrey: And Emilia panicking because she didn't want Leo to play in the pool with Artie and Victor.

Matthew: Because he couldn't swim. Not like ours, who could already swim like a fish. And Victor... I swear that kid was born with gills. Anyway, it wasn't as if Thomas wasn't watching the kids while you and Millie were busy in the kitchen and the rest of us were waging war with this crazy bed.

Audrey: 'Busy in the kitchen' certainly describes it. I can still picture Kiki and Caroline, covered in finger paint.

Matthew: And Grace laughing about it.

Audrey: Probably because Victor and Caroline were always making messes, and she realized laughing was a lot better for her mental health than getting upset.

Matthew: I miss those times. It seems like things were a lot more fun when everybody's kids were young, and before so much changed in our lives.

Audrey: I miss those times too, but maybe we'll recapture some of those old feelings when our grandchild comes along.

Matthew: I'm looking forward to that. I can't wait to be a grandpa.

Audrey: You're much too young and handsome to be 'Grandpa'. I think we're going to have to think of a cooler and more fun nickname for you.

Matthew: What about you? If you think i can't be 'Grandpa', then someone as beautiful and sexy as you definitely can't be 'Grandma'.

Audrey: Excuse me. Did you just call me sexy?

Matthew: *winking* Maybe.

Audrey: Mr. Greene, are you trying to seduce me?

Matthew: Maaaybe...

Audrey: How did a discussion about redecorating turn into this?

Matthew: You're irresistible, that's how. Sometimes I just lose focus when I'm around you. But yes... redecorating. Let's give it some more thought, and maybe ask Artie what he thinks. He might have an opinion. This was his room, after all. He and Emma may have a few memories of their own in here.

Audrey: Let's invite them for dinner on Saturday, after their support group. I need to talk to Emma about planning a baby shower, and this might be a good opportunity.

Matthew: A baby shower? Do you think Artie would go for that?

Audrey: Apparently his new friend Félix is planning on having one, and it sounds like he thought that was a good idea, so...

Matthew: Ah, yes... Félix. I've been hearing a lot about him lately. Maybe we should invite him and his husband over as well. See what sort of people Artie is spending time with these days.

Audrey: A dinner party, then?

Matthew: Excellent plan. Do you want to be in charge of the main course or appetizers and desserts?

Audrey: You can do the desserts. You're good with sweet things.

Matthew: I must be, seeing as I've managed to hang onto you for this long, and you're the sweetest thing in my life.

Audrey: All right. You win. You've crumbled my resolve.

Matthew: And I wasn't even trying. But, I'm happy to taste victory anyway

Audrey: And what does victory taste like, dare I ask?

Matthew: At a guess, I'd say your wintergreen toothpaste.

Audrey: *laughing*

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #newcrest #Audrey Harrison-Greene #Matthew Greene #stargazersims

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goldenlilium-ocs · 2 months

Text

Winter 1995-1996.

December 8th, 1995.

Juliette had started feeling a little better over the past couple weeks. Perhaps it helped that Cormac’s humiliation and Potter standing up against Professor Umbridge provided the newest talk of the castle. Still, the witch had her moments where she needed to get away from the pitiful looks and soft words that lingered, so she made her way to the library. She headed to the back, but somebody was already at her table. He was all sharp angles, ruffled curls and every writer’s dream character. Juliette felt like she could see past that now. The rough edges were really soft bumps. Though she didn’t quite understand it, there was a shared pain between the two after the events of the summer.

The witch said nothing as she pulled out the chair opposite, dropping her bag beside it and taking a seat. She could feel Mattheo’s eyes watching her over his book as she pulled her ink and parchment out, opening her textbook to page 412, but she said nothing. Her fingers toyed nervously with the moonstone at her throat. She feared if she met his gaze or spoke a word, her resolve would crumble. He wasn’t forcing her either. After a beat, his gaze had returned to his book. Staying out of her business, just as she’d asked. Demanded, really.

“Thank you. For not telling Snape. I don’t know what came over me. You could’ve turned me in, I wasn’t exactly nice to you.”

Mattheo glanced up. It seemed to take him a moment to realise she was instigating the conversation for once. “If you hadn’t done something, I would’ve. Though my methods would be far less entertaining. I’m sorry I got you kicked out the other day. You needed that space more than I did.”

Mattheo Riddle apologising. Juliette wondered how many times that had happened. She wouldn’t deny that he had been a prat, even under the guise of trying to help her. “You were an ass, but you were right. I’m not good at being on my own. I was festering in misery, even my friends fine me inapproachable.”

Riddle was watching her. Studying her. Juliette wondered if the caution in his eyes was because he didn’t want her to get mad again, or he didn’t want to scare her off and be left alone. “Misery loves company. But the lesser known part is that company doesn’t much care for misery. Maybe you just needed someone to be an ass. You were nice enough.”

“That didn’t give me the excuse to act like a raging bitch. I already told you it wasn’t your fault.” If Mattheo thought she had been nice to him, she’d seem like a damn saint when she wasn’t a wreck.

“So you don’t think I’m dangerous? That I’m a weapon waiting for command?”

Maybe once upon a time she would have. It was common knowledge to stay away from Mattheo Riddle. Now though? “I think you’re just a boy born into a really shitty situation.”

At first she thought Mattheo would get up and walk away, but he just closed his book and nudged it between them like some kind of peace offering. “Shitty is simplifying it a bit. ”

She needed to change the subject. If she thought about Voldemort, she’d think about the tournament. If she thought about the tournament, she would start thinking about Cedric. “Do you really think I’m uptight?”

Mattheo smiled, setting his quill down. He had a nice smile. “I think you’re a girl who went though a lot of shitty situations. It just made you work a little harder to be taken seriously and control the narrative.”

“I still don’t understand why you did it.”

He tilted his head, drinking her in with his gaze but she was the one left feeling intoxicated. “What exactly was it I did, Bishop?”

She shifted in her seat. She wasn’t uncomfortable, but the way he looked at her made her feel something that had been missing for a long time. “You made the effort to get through to me. Even if it was a questionable one.”

Mattheo chuckled. “Maybe I just wanted to get my table back.”

“No. You just cared enough.” She didn’t give him time to answer, preferring the version in her head in which his tough love act had pulled her from the darkness. It was better in the light, anyway.

His book lay facedown on the table. When Mattheo caught her eyeing it he made to take it back, but she had already made out some of the lettering on the spine.

“Is that Doctor Zhivago?”

He cleared his throat, glancing away. It didn’t hide the way his cheeks flamed. “Maybe. Don’t…”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

December 15th, 1995

“You know, your dad’s a real dick.”

Mattheo’s lips parted in surprise, but then twitched upward into a smile at the mischievous glint in the witch’s eye. She’d sat down with him again at their little spot in the back of the library. This time, Juliette had shared her potions notes with him so they could work on the most recent essay Snape had set them.

“So I’ve been told.”

It was nice, working together. Mattheo knew he had to be a better partner than Theo, and his side of the bargain was that he’d noticed Juliette’s grades slowly creeping up again. Cormac hadn’t bothered them at all either, not since Mattheo had let a boggart loose while leaving the changing rooms during his obnoxiously long shower.

They sat at that little table together in peace, working on individual essays until Juliette spoke up again. “Does is scare you? Knowing he’s back?”

Mattheo’s shoulders tensed at the question. He could’ve just told her to piss off and mind her own business. But one look at the genuity in her eyes and his shoulders dropped. “Terrified.”

He looked her over. There was a new light in her eyes these days, and it looked as though she may have gone to the effort of curling the ends of her hair. Still, that didn’t mean she would ever forget that night of the tournament. “Are you scared, Bishop?”

She looked genuinely surprised, as if she hadn’t even thought it might matter what she felt. But in that moment of surprise he also noticed the way her breath hitched and her slender fingers whitened around her quill. “Terrified.”

He was overcome with an intense regret at what had happened to her at the hands of his father. He regretted what it had made her into over the last few months. The only thing that eased the ache was how soft she seemed in these moments, when the world had made her so unbreakingly hard. He’d be damned if she ever felt that kind of pain again. He was brought out of his stupour by a low rumble, causing him to look around before he realised it had come from Juliette.

“You didn’t eat lunch?”

She flushed, looking too cute when he was trying to escape her pull. “Everyone talks too much. They worry.” About her. Gossip usually moved on quickly, but not this time.

“Hang on.” Mattheo pulled his bag into his lap, prising it open and pushing his books aside. “Aha,” He pulled out the chocolate frog and slid it across the table. He didn’t miss the way Juliette’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. A woman after his own heart no matter how carefully he guarded it.

“I love these.” Juliette murmured, carefully lifting the lid and catching the frog midair. No wonder she was a backup chaser.

“You’d have to be crazy not to.” Sure he had been saving it for Blaise as a way to bribe him to do his Care of Magical Creatures essay, but he would suffer through it. Maybe he could even ask Juliette for help.

Once she was eating, Mattheo went back to his essay. He and Juliette had gotten into a friendly little rivalry since their potions success, wanting to outdo each other. With the latter’s grades slowly creeping up there wasn’t much time to be sneaking muggle books into class.

“Thanks, Matty.”

He glanced up briefly and smiled. “No problem, Julie.”

January 6th, 1996

“You got me a christmas present?”

Mattheo couldn’t stop staring at the wrapped package Juliette was holding out to him like it was a baby dragon.

“I know it’s late. I couldn’t find anything I liked in Hogsmeade before the break.” She’d wanted to get him something? “You’re supposed to open it, Riddle.”

She sounded almost nervous, so Mattheo quickly unwrapped it. It was a book. Plain black leather, but in the bottom right corner ‘Mattheo’ was embossed. No Riddle. The inside pages were blank. the grain fine. Sketchpaper, Mattheo noticed gleefully.

“It isn’t much.” It was everything. “I just noticed you doodle on your parchment a lot. Would probably be a good idea to keep your notes and drawings separate.

“Is this real leather, Bishop?” He ran his fingers over his name on the cover.

“Oh. Um, yeah. I think so. It wasn’t that expensive. It’s more of a stocking filler.”

Mattheo didn’t believe that, but he did believe it had probably hardly dented her Gringotts account. “I uh, I didn’t get you anything.” He was an idiot. She had been searching for his gift for weeks and he hadn’t once thought about doing the same.

“I don’t need anything.” Mattheo met Juliette’s gaze. Her honeyed eyes were soft.

Eyes didn’t sparkle, but hers definitely gleamed. And she was smiling. Maybe he had given her something after all. He couldn’t give her the world, but he could give her a small piece of himself. It would be more than he had ever given anyone else.

“You hate it.” Even when she was dejected she sounded heavenly.

“No, love. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

January 9th, 1996

“For you.”

Mattheo slid the sketch paper across the table and watched Juliette pull it toward her. He could’t see the look in her eyes as she gazed down at the drawing. They had been the hardest feature to capture. Her smile had been the easiest. It graced his dreams and haunted his nightmares.

“You did this?” Her lips parted in awe, pink and glistening. They matched the sketch perfectly.

“Hagrid’s tangents during class freed up some time.”

She chuckled at that, laying the artwork down carefully. There were a few baby hairs on the right that always fell into her face. He’d included them in his drawing. He wanted to see the perfection in her imperfections when she looked at it.

“Do you draw all of the girls you find sulking in the library?”

“Only the ones who sabotage pricks in potions and inhale chocolate frogs.”

She smiled again, close lipped and soft. His fingers twitched, wanting to take the paper back so he could capture this new smile on the other side. Salazar, Mattheo was in trouble now. Of all the terrible things he’d ever accomplished, falling in love with a girl he didn’t deserve made the top of the list.

#jattheo #julie x mattheo #snapshots

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subskz · 2 years

Text

losing sleep - l.mh

note: this is a reupload from my old blog

content: sub minho, dom reader, pillow humping, voyeurism (?), slight degradation/humiliation, grinding, reader’s sex is unspecified, reader calls minho “kitten”

word count: 3.7k

A tiny grunt of surprise escaped you as you sank your head down, expecting it to land snugly on your waiting pillow, only for it to bounce against the mattress instead.

Your confusion instantly melted into annoyance when you blinked your eyes open and found Minho in the dim light, sitting on his side of the bed with your missing pillow in his hands. You sucked in a deep breath, already sensing the mischief behind the innocent way he blinked at you.

“Minho,” you began.

“Hm?”

You reached out half-heartedly to snatch it from him, too worn out to deal with his antics properly. “Give it back.”

“Mm...I want this one tonight,” he announced, pulling it to his bare chest. “Take it and I’ll yell at you in my sleep.”

As ridiculous as the threat sounded, it unfortunately wasn’t a baseless one. You’d spent far too many nights lying wide awake, cursing your cruel fate as Minho babbled half-consciously away.

Still, you didn’t budge, determined to get your pillow back so you could drift off like you’d been longing to since the morning. “It’s exactly the same as yours, you big baby,” you tried to reason.

“It’s not,” he insisted, pushing his lips into a pout so exaggerated that you knew whatever he planned to say next would be disgustingly adorable. “This one smells like you.”

You faltered. Like any cute thing Minho did, it was obvious that he was only trying to pander to you so he could have his way. Knowing that didn’t stop it from working every single time, however, and you felt your already weak resolve crumble.

With a sigh, you pulled your hand back, letting it flop defeatedly onto the bed. A smug, catlike grin made its way onto Minho’s face as he realized that he’d won, and despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help the affection that bubbled up inside you. “You should feel lucky,” he claimed, passing his own pillow to you. “You’ll fall asleep thinking of me this way.”

You rolled your eyes as you took it from him, hoping to mask the fondness in your voice. “Haunting me even in my dreams.”

“So mean,” Minho complained. “That was romantic, right? Praise me.”

“My heart’s fluttering.”

In truth, maybe it was fluttering a little, but Minho didn’t need to know that. He accepted your soulless compliment with a huff before placing your pillow on his side of the bed and settling down next to you. You were admittedly still confused as to why he’d made such a fuss about switching them, but at this point you’d learned not to question most things when it came to Minho.

You gave his pillow a few pats before resting your head on it. The soft scent of his shampoo immediately flooded your senses, and a small part of you wondered if he really had just wanted to trade for the endearing reason that he’d given. Even after all this time, it was near impossible to differentiate between Minho’s playfulness and his affection—they were practically one and the same.

Too exhausted to worry about whatever was going on in his head, you reached over to shut off the lamp on your nightstand. “Night, Lino,” you murmured.

He hummed softly in reply, getting comfortable in the sheets. To your surprise, he wasn’t latched on to you in a heartbeat the same way he was most nights—rolling into your personal space and throwing his leg over your body to trap you close to him. Instead, he curled up peacefully on his side of the mattress.

It was strange, but not strange enough for you to think much of it. Though you felt a bit wistful falling asleep without the weight of Minho’s thigh over you, judging by how spent you were, you figured you’d be drifting off soon enough anyway. You let out a content sigh as you pulled the covers over yourself and shut your eyes at last.

With Minho’s familiar scent surrounding you, it wasn’t long before you felt yourself being lulled to sleep. You nuzzled your face deeper into the pillow, and just as the last of your wakefulness began to melt away, you were interrupted by Minho suddenly shifting around beside you.

The sound of it snapped you back awake all at once, and you had to suppress a groan of frustration. One of his legs bumped against yours as he adjusted his position, flipping onto his side so that he was now facing your back. His squirming continued for several seconds, and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter in a futile attempt to ignore it.

You had a moment of peace once Minho finally seemed to settle down, only for it to be disturbed yet again when he called out your name quietly, as if to see if you were awake. You mumbled something in response, not even bothering to turn and see what he needed. He went silent after that, and you took it as a sign that whatever he had to say wasn’t important.

Thanks to Minho’s restlessness, you found it more difficult to doze off a second time. A minute passed, then another, then so many that you lost track. You tried to clear your mind, listening to the sound of his breathing with the hopes of it helping you relax. He wasn’t asleep yet—you could tell by how short his breaths were, and that was only confirmed when you felt a light poke in your side.

There was a pause, then he prodded you again, a bit harder this time.

Assuming that the boy was just trying to mess with you, you completely ignored his touches, stubbornly set on getting some much-needed sleep. When Minho noticed your lack of a response, he rolled back over onto his side, turned away from you again.

There was even more wriggling around after that, and you clenched your jaw irritably, making a mental note to give him a piece of your mind the next morning. Whatever he was doing, it began to make the bed creak, and pulling the covers over your head did little to mask the noise. Even if it had, the vibrations you felt through the mattress were equally as distracting.

Just as you were about to snap at Minho for doing what you could only assume to be running through his choreography at two in the morning, another call of your name made the words die in your throat. It was weaker this time, breathless and more desperate, and it was immediately followed by a soft, broken moan.

Realization dawned on you, making your heart leap in your chest.

You stayed very still, listening as closely as you could just to be sure that you weren’t imagining things. The tiniest whimper graced your ears soon after, and your lips curved into a smile as your surprise was replaced with delight.

Minho was getting off just inches away from you, and whether he thought you were awake or not, he was doing a terrible job at hiding it.

Spine tingling, you decided to speak up.

“Minho?”

He froze, all movements coming to an instant halt. It was silent for several heartbeats, with only his uneven pants filling the room, and you felt your anticipation rise with each one.

Finally, you heard him swallow hard, steeling himself to reply. “Hm?”

You nearly snorted at how casual his response was despite very obviously being caught. Sitting up in your spot, you peered at him through the darkness, barely making out his bundled up form. “What are you doing?”

Minho hesitated again, acutely aware of your gaze burning into his back. “Getting comfortable,” he offered weakly.

Your smile grew wider. Suddenly, any drowsiness you’d felt was long-gone, and you leaned over to click the lamp back on and get a better view of the boy. Only his head was visible underneath the pile of covers, but his burning ears were enough to confirm your suspicions.

“You’re uncomfortable?” you asked innocently.

Another pause. “No.”

You reached out to brush your fingers over the bright red tip of his ear, taking satisfaction in the way his breath hitched. “Mm...are you sure?” you checked. “Your face is all hot.”

Before Minho could muster up whatever excuse he had in mind, your hand drifted to the covers to slowly tug them down. He tensed up as you did, and your satisfaction increased tenfold as he was fully revealed to you.

You were used to Minho usually sleeping in nothing but his underwear, but the sight of his body now—skin flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly with his legs wrapped tightly around your pillow—set something off in you.

“So this is what Lino really wanted.” You shook your head in mock disappointment. “I should’ve known.”

He squirmed slightly under your stare, keeping his eyes averted. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” you echoed. “You started grinding against my pillow by accident?”

Your words earned an unhappy whine from Minho, and you could’ve sworn you saw him press himself harder against the plushness in question.

“It smells like you,” he mumbled defensively, as if that were somehow an explanation. “And you were tired. Didn’t wanna...bother you.”

The pouty confession was oddly cute, but despite how it made your chest warm, you couldn’t pass up such a golden opportunity to tease Minho for it. “How sweet,” you cooed, running your fingers through his soft hair. “But did you really think all those pretty little noises you were making wouldn’t wake me up?”

Minho grew quiet at that, the embarrassment of the situation thoroughly setting in. He was typically so shameless, so difficult to faze, but getting caught doing something as desperate as humping against your pillow couldn’t be easily brushed off as a joke.

You took in his flustered state, relishing in every bit of it. “Since my baby’s so needy I guess it can’t be helped,” you sighed, untangling your fingers from his hair. “Go on.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. Though his gaze was intense, the glimmer of curiosity in them made him look utterly harmless as he searched your expression.

“Huh?”

“Keep going,” you ordered casually. “Lemme see my pretty kitty get off on my pillow.”

To your delight, Minho’s face flushed impossibly more. He struggled to regain his composure, throwing out the first taunt he could think of to try and gain the upper hand.

“Pervert.”

You lifted an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth curved up when he saw that he was able to get a reaction out of you. “Who’s the pervert here?” you cocked your head, dragging your hand up his thigh and along the fabric of his boxer briefs. “I’m not the one leaking in my underwear, am I?”

Minho jerked as you slipped your hand between him and the pillow to feel him through the garment. Sure enough, a small amount of precum had begun to seep through, and he reflexively pushed his hips into your palm. “Ah...yes, touch me,” he breathed.

You pulled your hand away with a giggle, his response immediately proving your point. “Nope,” you sang. “Lino’s gonna make himself cum all on his own.”

You leaned back to sit comfortably on the mattress, unaffected by the glare Minho shot your way. Though every one of his instincts told him to challenge you, he couldn’t deny just how desperate he was to feel any kind of friction against his aching length. On top of that, being caught in such a vulnerable position had turned him on more than he’d like to admit, and he felt his cock twitch at the thought of you watching him get off.

Your hungry gaze didn’t waver, urging him to get started, and he hesitated for a moment longer before swallowing his pride and beginning to move.

“That’s it,” you purred, nodding in approval as Minho’s hips slowly pushed forward to press into the pillow. He shifted so that it rubbed against him just the right way, and an airy moan escaped him as he squeezed his thighs together.

Tentatively, he repeated the action, trying to keep his movements under control to avoid looking more pathetic than he already did. The tiny sparks of pleasure they created quickly made him eager for more, however, and it wasn’t long before he built up a steady pace, rocking into the softness of the pillow and making the bed creak just like before. The sound of it amused you, and Minho knew he was in for more teasing when you smirked down at him.

“Moving this fast already,” you commented, dragging a finger down his spine. “What’s got you so worked up, kitten?”

Minho’s reply came in the form of a low whine. He bucked forward especially hard, snaking his legs tighter around the pillow. You gave his lower back a pinch to encourage him to answer, and the squeak it elicited only made your amusement grow stronger.

Despite the way he scowled at you, Minho took the hint, not keen on having his skin nipped at again. “J-just—ngh—wanna feel good,” he got out through gritted teeth.

His eyes fluttered shut to fully concentrate on the feeling, giving you the chance to admire him freely. You drank in the way the muscles in his legs clenched and the veins in his hands protruded as he curled them in the sheets.

Minho’s speed gradually began to pick up, his thrusts becoming less and less controlled. The force of them caused the pillow to slip out of place, and he mewled in frustration as his rhythm was suddenly lost.

He continued squirming pitifully against it, trying not to lose the pressure that had been building up in his abdomen, and you made a noise of mock sympathy as you reached out to adjust the pillow for him.

“C’mon, Lino,” you drawled, a hint of scorn creeping into your voice. “I’m losing sleep over this. The least you can do is put on a good show for me.”

Minho opened his mouth to retort, but anything he planned to say was quickly interrupted by a light gasp as you snapped the waistband of his boxers mischievously against his skin. The action caused the head of his cock to peek out from under the elastic, and he groaned sinfully when it rubbed against the soft material of the pillow.

The new sensation made Minho’s bucking turn even more frantic. He released the sheets from his hold to grab onto your pillow instead, his delicate fingers digging into the plushness to keep it steady.

You trailed your own fingers up and down his hips as you observed him, marveling at how sensitive he was to your touch. Another frustrated noise slipped out of him, and you knew right away that he was becoming impatient, no longer satisfied with just your pillow. He blinked his big eyes open to meet yours, giving you a look that was more irresistible than he deserved. “Hah...more,” he demanded weakly. “T-touch me.”

You continued brushing the pads of your fingers along his soft skin, avoiding the area where he needed you most. “I am touching you,” You said simply, moving your hand from his waist to give his tummy a squeeze. Minho jumped at the unexpected feeling, and you suppressed another delighted giggle.

“Not enough,” he complained breathlessly. “Wanna c-cum already.”

With a click of your tongue, you pulled your hand away entirely. “Be a good boy and do it yourself. I’m too tired.”

Your tone was firm, but Minho still refused to let up, slowing down his movements so he could speak properly. “But I’m—ngh—’m pretty like this, right?” he managed to grin, a glimpse of his usual, cheeky self shining through. “You’re staring s-so much, I know you wanna play with me.”

Minho’s words admittedly caught you off guard, and it took all your willpower to keep your expression neutral as he pulled back from the pillow to show himself off. Your stare traveled down from his smug face, passing over his hardened nipples and soft stomach until it landed on the tip of his length. It stuck out just barely from under the waistband of his boxers, but even so you could still see that it was flushed and dripping with precum.

“Please?” His voice was sickeningly sweet, and for good measure, he rubbed his thighs against each other, effectively making the last of your resolve melt away.

He didn’t deserve it,—he rarely did—but as always, Minho knew exactly how to get it. You ran a hand down your face in defeat, sighing heavily.

“Spoiled,” you muttered. “So spoiled.”

His smirk widened triumphantly, and you cursed yourself for giving in to his act. The moment of cockiness didn’t last long, however, as you wasted no time before getting to work. Carefully, you slipped your hand under Minho’s thigh to unwrap it from around the pillow, making his shiver in anticipation. You nudged him in an attempt to turn him over on his back, and, too eager to worry about giving you any more trouble, he obeyed.

The loss of the pillow’s warmth was quickly replaced with the feeling of you straddling him, and Minho sucked in a sharp breath as you came to hover over his clothed length. You dipped your fingers under the waistband of his underwear, sliding it off with ease and revealing the rest of his cock to you. It jerked against his stomach as the air hit it, and an embarrassing whimper left his lips when you lowered yourself to press down against him.

“Is this what you wanted, kitten?” you asked, dragging your crotch along his dick painfully slowly. “Is this what you were imagining when I caught you rutting into my pillow?”

Any signs of bravado Minho had shown just seconds ago disappeared as a long, shaky moan spilled out of him. The wetness of his precum seeped into your clothes almost immediately, and the feeling of his arousal only added to your own. “Such a dripping mess,” you murmured. “Your pretty little cock must’ve soiled everything.”

Minho didn’t know whether to protest or agree, the scorn in your voice filling him with an embarrassment that was strangely exhilarating. You continued moving at a languid pace, sliding from the base of his length to its head with each roll of your hips. The friction of your clothes grazing his bare skin created a delicious sensation, and Minho immediately longed for more. “S-so good,” he mewled. “Faster, faster, faster.”

You ignored his plea, maintaining the rhythm you’d set. “Don’t be greedy, Lino,” you scolded. “You’ll take what you can get.”

Minho huffed at that, and out of spite, he jerked his hips up suddenly. It was quickly followed by a yelp as you pushed them back down, pinning him to the bed and digging your fingers into his sides. “Stay put.”

“You’re mean,” he whined.

You loosened your grip on his waist to slide your hands over to his stomach, making his back arch. “You’re complaining too much for a needy kitten who can’t even cum without me doing all the work for you.”

The taunt made Minho’s face flare up in an instant. His mind was too hazy to think of a clever retort, and he let out a flustered noise instead, squeezing his eyes shut. Satisfied with his reaction, you decided to make the most of his current state. “Is this what happens every time Lino tries to get off by himself?” you faked a pout. “He gives up ‘cause I’m not there to help him?”

As if to answer your question, Minho went limp beneath you with a moan, practically melting into the mattress as you grinded against him with more vigor. Your movements began to have an effect on you as well, and you picked up the speed of your rocking even further, urged on by the heat building where your bodies met.

Minho released an especially filthy cry as you shifted forward to put extra pressure on his sensitive tip. His eyebrows knitted together, mouth falling open uselessly, and you admired the endearing way his front teeth peeked out from behind his lips as the pleasure overtook his senses.

“You love being pampered like this, hm?” you purred. “Just a helpless kitty who needs to be taken care of.”

“Hah...make me c-cum,” Minho babbled. “W-wanna cum...wanna feel good.” His sentence faded into a string of high-pitched mewls, hands pawing at the bedsheets.

You pressed yourself down harder against his cock, your grinding becoming more erratic. “More, more, more,” Minho keened, head lolling to the side. The sound of his honey voice filled the room, mixing with the rocking of the bed, and you couldn’t find it in you to try and quiet him down.

You took hold of his squirming hands, locking your fingers with his and holding them above his head. Using the position as leverage, you rubbed against the head of his cock with more control, smearing the precum around in a way that made Minho see stars.

Before you even had the chance to repeat the action, he let out a choked sob, his whole body tensing up. “G-good—ah!—cumming! ‘M cumming!”

He barely got the words out in time before he was spilling all over himself. His seed emptied in several spurts, shooting out to form a small, pearly pool on his stomach. You didn’t stop rolling your hips, milking Minho through his orgasm and taking in every sweet, airy moan he released.

Only when his noises faded into small, hushed whimpers did you finally halt your movements, leaving him blissed out and panting below you. You studied his face as he came down from his high, briefly noting how unfair it was that he looked so pretty even in his wrecked state.

Minho’s breathing gradually began to relax, and he blinked his eyes open to find you staring at him. His half-lidded gaze was still clouded, but you didn’t miss the cheeky glint that crossed it.

“Can you let me sleep now?” he grinned lazily up at you. “I’m exhausted.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!minho #dom!reader #minho smut

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blackacre13 · 2 years

Note

Debbie ocean x reader smut, Debbie makes Y/N take her strap after Y/N ignored her all day just to annoy Debbie. (Debbie makes Y/N squirt.)

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Debbie asked, suddenly appearing in your bedroom where you’d been holed up all day.

“I’m doing the research you asked me to do for the job,” you lied smoothly, closing out your tabs slowly as she watched you from the doorway.

“You’re avoiding me,” Debbie smirked. “Playing hard to get. Well, guess what, Y/N? You have me. You can just tell me the things you want, baby.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you lied, closing the laptop and placing it beside you in the bed, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. Your lips curling into a smile that you just couldn’t quite help.

“You are,” Debbie nodded. “If you’re going to con me, you need to be better at it, Y/N.”

“I wouldn’t dare con a con,” you laughed, patting the bed beside you as she gave you a suspicious look, arching a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Then you wouldn’t be the person I fell in love with,” she murmured, cradling your head in her hand as she studied your face, contemplating for a moment. “And that would be a shame. Because I’m madly in love with that person, Y/N.”

“Debbie,” you blushed, trying to look away, but she kept her grip on you. Gentle, but firm.

“You only avoid me when you want something,” Debbie whispered, kissing you softly as you leaned into her, breathing her in, all designer perfume, love, and an edge of danger. Chaos.

“I don’t want anything,” you whispered, blushing redder as you dipped your head, both embarrassed and appreciative that Debbie Ocean knew you so well. She could read you. Always. Tell or not. And you both knew it.

“You want me,” Debbie murmured against your neck, crawling into bed as she climbed over you, her skirt riding up as your breath hitched, taking in a glimpse of black garters secured against creamy skin.

“I do?” You asked, feigning innocence even though it took every ounce of your strength as your resolved crumbled quickly, the brunette straddling your lap as your hands found her hips, swallowing thickly.

“You do,” Debbie smiled. “Don’t you want to see how much I missed you today? How wet I am for you, Y/N?”

“Debbie,” you whispered, trying to turn away slightly, but her hand was grabbing one of yours, pulling it in closer to her, dancing over her thighs.

“Come on,” Debbie smirked.

You couldn’t deny her. You couldn’t deny her anything. And what was more, you had a burning desire to touch her. For her to touch you. You were under her spell.

“That’s it,” she breathed, her smile growing as your fingers inched towards her, dipping under her skirt as you moved your way up her thigh, letting out a shaky breath as you hesitated just an inch from her panties, already feeling the heat emanating from her. “Go ahead, Y/N. Touch me.”

Your fingers swiped across the fabric, gasping as you were surprised by something hard.

“Well,” Debbie laughed, holding your hand down, still against the silicone. “I guess you can’t quite feel how wet I am for you. But I think you’ve felt something you like, Y/N. Am I right?”

You were only able to let out a simple nod, your hand frozen against her as she leaned forward, pushing her skirt up to her hips as her hair fell against your cheek, curtaining your face as you let out a moan, desperate for her.

“Do you want me to Fuck you with my strap, Y/N?” She whispered, grinding down against your lap as you gasped, nodding frantically. “Is that why you were hiding from me? Seeing what plan I’d come up with to see you?”

“Please,” you whispered, unbuttoning your jeans and unzipping them slowly as Debbie watched you like you were her prey. You waited, playing with the waistband for a moment, almost asking for permission as you looked up at her, and then suddenly she was yanking them down your legs to your ankles, your underwear falling shortly after. You waited for her tongue or her fingers to find you, already moaning with anticipation.

“Tell me,” Debbie hissed, grabbing the dildo as she ran it through your folds as you gasped, the sound of wetness filling the room as she moaned with appreciation. “Tell me you want me, Y/N.”

“I want you,” you panted. “I need you Debbie. I need your strap. Please. Fuck me.”

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Underground Tomb edition!)

Hello friends and degenerate sinners, this is basically a mini headcanon set for Luci’s kid!MC about how the incident with Luke and the Grimoire would go down in this AU to tide you all over until Part 3 comes out! Enjoy!

It was a normal night in the good ol’ HOL... Lucifer was doing paperwork at an ungodly hour of the night, Beel was in the kitchen, and Mammon was screaming and running for dear life. Ah... sweet normalcy.

The custard incident remained the same, MC got force-fed custard and Beel threw a truly fantastic hunger tantrum that culminated in the wall connecting to MC’s room collapsing.

Cue lecture from Luci-father.

“I am very disappointed in you three.” Lucifer rubbed his temples as MC, Beel, and Mammon awkwardly stood in his room. Mammon of course, was trying to avoid the death glares MC was giving him. Poor bastard.

“Especially you two, MC and Beel.”

“Whuh?!” Mammon sputtered. “What about me?!”

“I expect this from you. These two on the other hand,” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at MC who was awkwardly trying to suppress a laugh at Mammon’s aghast expression. “Should know not to act like this.”

“We’re *snrk* sorry, father,” MC paused to try and muscle through a giggle. “It won’t happen again.”

“He ate my custard...” Beel pouted.

“So, MC won’t be able to use their room anymore due to the wall... collapsing.” Lucifer gave Beel a pointed glare.

Mammon smirked, and if he were sitting on a couch, we would have leaned back and kicked his feet up. “Well, obviously since I’m a kind and generous soul I’ll open up my room for poor MC to stay in. My babysittin’ rates are quite high though-”

“BABYSITTING?!” MC snarled, giving Mammon a death glare that could probably kill lesser demons.

Lucifer felt a twinge of pride upon seeing his child give someone his signature bone-chilling glare, if he weren’t supposed to be disappointed he would have given MC a pat on the head and let them hang Mammon from the ceiling.

“Uh- heh- MC, I’m your favourite uncle! Me babysittin’ ya should be an honour!” Mammon was sweating bullets and desperately looking to Beel for help.

“Levi is rapidly approaching favourite uncle status.” MC crossed their arms and huffed.

“Levi?! Wait- does that mean I was your favourite-”

Lucifer was almost tempted to stick MC in Mammon’s room just to have MC punish Mammon so he could get some sleep, tragically, his common sense won out. “MC will be staying with Beel. He has an extra bed in his room after all.”

MC looked over at Beel and smiled. “Could be worse, right? I’ll replace the custard.”

Beel’s smile upon hearing the last part could have lit up the entire Devildom. What a sweetie.

MC still chilled in Beel’s room. They finally got to ask more questions about Belphie, and Beel is more inclined to share what’s up because MC is his big bro’s kid after all!

Because of MC’s half demon-ness, they hadn’t met Belphie at that point in the story unlike in canon. They were just curious about their missing uncle. They ALSO already knew what Belphie looks like because Lucifer gave them an in depth tour of everything and he pointed out all the portraits.

MC, being the sadistic sweetheart they are, went out and bought themselves and Beel replacement custard. MC made sure to eat it right in front of Mammon.

But my oh my, who was texting them? *gasp!* Luke!

MC obviously let their little angel buddy into the house (Luke did not know about MC’s parental situation at that point, keep that in mind). Luke was fun to tease a little after all! And it was nice to have another kid around, but MC would never admit it.

Since MC had literally no reason to be afraid of their dear old dad, they went right up to him and asked him if Luke could stay over. No fear.

“Father?” MC leaned on the doorway to the backyard, Lucifer was playing fetch with Cerberus. MC had never seen someone play fetch so robotically.

“Yes, MC?” Cerberus’ middle head dropped a slobber covered squeaky toy into Lucifer’s gloved hand, the other two heads snapped at the middle one.

“Can I have a friend over?” MC asked, trotting over to give Cerberus some pets. On the first day the dog had tried to eat them, but after giving him some much tastier bacon treats, Cerberus was sweet as pie. Murderous and dangerous pie, that is.

“Do I know this friend?”

“Yes, it’s Luke. Can he stay over?”

Lucifer wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. “Cerberus is right here, you have access to a dog. Why on earth would you bring the chihuahua over?”

MC snorted and gave Cerberus’ right head some scratches behind the ears. “He’s not a chihuahua all the time, come on, it’s for the good of the exchange program!”

The two had a stare down for a little while, and to his absolute horror, Lucifer felt his resolve cracking. This child of his was too adorable for their own good. “Fine, MC.”

“Yes!” MC fist pumped as Cerberus’ middle and left heads tried to join in on the ear scritches.

“But note,” Lucifer continued. “I expect a full report to give to Lord Diavolo on this whole experience.”

MC frowned and debated sticking their tongue out at their father, they decided against it. “A paper? On a sleepover? Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Lucifer gave MC a flick on the nose. “Like you said, it has to do with the exchange program. Now go make sure the chihuahua doesn’t die and leave you with a mess to clean up.”

The look of complete terror Luke gave MC when they told him that Lucifer said he could stay over was completely worth the paper they were going to have to write.

“What?! You weren’t supposed to tell him I’m here!”

“He said you could stay.”

“Why?! Oh no... did he demand your soul as payment or something?! MC! You shouldn’t have put yourself in that nasty demon’s debt! Don’t worry, I’ll get your soul back somehow.”

MC should have been offended... but they weren’t. I mean, could you stay mad at Luke when he just offered to fight arguably the second most powerful demon in the Devildom to get your soul back?

Now that Luke’s presence in the house was known to everyone, the challenge was no longer keeping Luke hidden, it was making sure Luke didn’t say anything that would get him killed and making sure none of the demon bros made Luke cry.

Mammon was the main culprit of the teasing because Lucifer actually had better things to do. And he had a (totally not a) date with Diavolo so he’d be back late and wouldn’t be home to tease the chihuahua.

Mammon’s status as favourite uncle was hanging by a thread by the end of the first day.

Asmo thought Luke was positively adorable and also very annoying. He offered to paint MC and Luke’s nails. Luke declined, but MC was all for it. (Their cuticles were a MESS by the way, they needed the manicure.)

Luke’s nails were painted gold to match the gold on his outfit! Asmo was quite proud of his work, and was very offended when he was not allowed to try and braid Luke’s hair.

“It looks so soft!”

“You’re not allowed to touch my hair, demon!”

Satan still disliked MC on the basis that they were just a mini-Lucifer and hung out in his room or the library to avoid them and Luke.

It was incredibly annoying when Luke and MC burst into the library to look for cookbooks and treat recipes after Luke told MC about his baking endeavours. Satan debated ordering a pair of ear plugs on Akuzon...

Or perhaps a laser gun...

Both would make him stop hearing the children’s grating voices.

“You two, be quiet.”

“We haven’t spoken since we got in here...”

“You’re breathing too loud.”

Beel remained the only brother who was actually decent to Luke, they all played Go Fish in Beel’s room.

Levi was in his room playing his new video game just like in canon, but he could hear Luke and MC running around outside his room.

He was fully prepared to do that introvert thing where you stay in your room until you hear someone say goodbye to the guest.

Levi’s eyes were glued to his computer screen, just eight more skeleton monsters to kill and he’d get the achievement! His attention crumbled the moment he heard the dreaded sound of...

Guests...

“Hey MC! Whose room is this?”

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall caused Levi to jump in his seat. Oh no... his worst fears were realized! There was another person in the house!

“That’s Asmodeus’ room. Luke you shouldn’t go around opening everyone’s doors-”

The sound of another door opening and shutting made Levi pause his game and look at Henry 2.0 for help. Maybe if he jumped into the tank and wrapped himself in his tail he’d camouflage into his surroundings...

BAM!

AAAAA! Not enough time! The guest was drawing nearer... he was going to have to... *barf*... SOCIALIZE!

“How about this room?”

Levi braced himself for the incoming social contact... Fs in the chat everyone...

“We shouldn’t bother Levi, let’s do something else.”

HAJEKDJSJSJSJD- BEEL! BEEL JUST SAVED LEVI’S LIFE!

The poor third born slumped back in his seat, the awfulness of socialization avoided. He uh... hadn’t actually left his room in maybe three days... maybe he should actually go outside... enjoy the nonexistent sunlight, y’know?

...nah. Levi went back to his game.

Since the kitchen was broken, Beel, MC, and Luke went out and get AkuDonald’s. They were all out of the toy that Luke and MC wanted so that trip was a disaster! A disaster I say!

Just the image of Beel happily chomping on his eighth burger while Luke and MC angrily pick at their fries makes me want to laugh.

Now the question you’re all waiting for, did Lucifer try and kill Luke and Beel and then MC for trying to take the Grimoire?

N O

“Whose room is behind that door?” Luke pointed to the door to the attic staircase.

MC shrugged and hit their knuckles against the door a few times. “It’s just the door to the attic. My uh- Lucifer said not to go up there because it’s just full of old junk.”

Normally MC would scoff at the idea of being told what not to do and do it out of spite, but MC was a child, and like most children, they hated scary attics. They hadn’t even attempted to open the door in the month they had lived in the house.

“Hm, maybe he’s hiding something...” Luke puffed out his cheeks and knocked on the door. When met with no answer, Luke turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, and the two peeked inside.

A tall spiral staircase greeted them as they tentatively stepped inside. Not so-good Lord, the room was freezing, but it didn’t seem to bother Luke as he walked further into the room.

“What do you think’s up there?” Luke asked, craning his neck to try and get a look at what could be at the top of the stairs.

MC shuddered and crossed their arms. “Like Lucifer said, junk. Nothing important.”

There was a tingling feeling at the base of MC’s neck, their hand flew to the spot only to find nothing, but the uneasiness didn’t cease. Something was very... very off. A shudder creeped up their spine as Luke stepped closer to the staircase.

“Come on,” Luke tutted, placing a hand on the railing. “Demons are known liars!”

Luke was quite difficult to be friends with sometimes, MC had to admit.

With every step Luke took up the stairs, the sense of dread brewing in MC’s gut grew, but they remained rooted to the spot, it was almost like something was physically stopping them from getting closer to those stairs.

Luke stopped on the sixth step and craned his neck to look up again. “Hello?” He called out.

His little voice echoed up the staircase, he was met with no reply for a moment, until a massive shudder wracked both his and MC’s spines.

“Hello.” A voice replied.

Quick as lightning MC dove forward, taking three steps up the stairs despite what felt like electric shocks stabbing into their skin, and yanked Luke back down the stairs and out the door, closing it behind them. MC heard a lazy, carefree chuckle reverberate through their head, and a message that only MC could hear.

“Leaving so soon, Lucifer?”

...

Spooky right?

Anyway- back to Luke and MC being idiots together.

They headed back to Beel’s room to watch some Devildom kid shows, I assume Tom and Jerry just played on repeat.

Luke explained the reason he ran away from Purgatory Hall, and MC legitimately debated whether or not they should throw Luke out of the nearest window for all the jabs he was taking at demons.

“Simeon was going to go out for tea with Diavolo! He even said that I could ask Barbatos to instruct me on the finer points of baking!”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“They’re demons, MC! Simeon and I are angels from the Celestial Realm! We shouldn’t be consorting with demons.”

Once again, bless Beel and his lack of murderous rage when it came to anything other than food.

“MC, Lucifer would be upset if you broke a window.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing Luke, nothing you need to worry about.”

Don’t worry, no angels were harmed during the visit.

On day two of the extended sleepover, Luke and MC decided to go running around the house again.

“And this is the basement.” MC put their hands on their hips and kissed their teeth as they looked around the Underground tomb. “Perfectly creepy.”

Luke shuddered. “Is this house nothing but one creepy room after another..?”

MC smiled and stuck out their tongue. Their fear of the attic did not extend to the underground tomb. Not that they were actually afraid of the attic or anything...

“Why? You scared some big monster is gonna getcha?” MC teased.

“No!” Luke gasped. “I’m not scared!”

MC began to walk backwards into the darker depths of the tomb, their teasing tone echoing off of the walls. “Then come on! Don’t be chicken!”

Luke looked back and forth from the door out of there, to the rapidly disappearing figure of MC, he rushed after MC.

“I’m not scared of some dark basement.” Luke huffed.

“Why not~?” MC snickered. “There could be ghosts down here... tortured souls of those who were damned to Hell for all eternity~!”

MC swiped Luke’s hat and placed it on their head, Luke jumped at the sudden contact and began to try and get the hat back from MC.

“Stop trying to scare me!” Luke yapped, MC laughed and began to jog deeper into the tomb.

“Maybe there’s a monster that eats chihuahuas down here too! Who knows!” MC twirled the hat with their fingers and ran a little faster when Luke ran after them.

“I AM NOT A CHIHUAHUA!”

Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best course of action to tease and scare one’s friend instead of telling them what they said earlier was mean, but MC wasn’t the best at decision making.

When MC reached a dead end, they stopped and looked around, Luke crashed right into them. He managed to swipe his hat back from a now disinterested MC.

MC’s gaze landed on a book being held up by a statue, they padded over and looked up at it.

“Luke, do you know what that is?” MC asked, turning to look at their now very miffed friend.

“The... book? I don’t know.”

Truthfully, MC didn’t know either. During their first tour of the house, Mammon had interrupted the Underground tomb segment and Lucifer had to cut the tour short.

“It’s uh...” MC pursed their lips and tried to think of a convincing lie. “A spell book. Lucifer told me that it makes your magic really really strong, so he stuck it down here to hide it from Solomon.”

“Did I now?”

MC and Luke screamed and whirled around, there stood Lucifer himself, not looking terribly pleased with the two of them.

“MC, care to explain why you and the angel are so close to the Grimoire?” Lucifer’s words were icily calm, and MC knew that meant if they didn’t come up with a good explanation they’d be in big trouble.

“W-we were just playing down here...” MC trailed off, looking to Luke for some kind of backup before realizing what a stupid idea that was.

“Y-yeah! We were just-”

Lucifer stuck his thumb over his shoulder and glowered at the two. “Out.”

“Yes sir.” Luke and MC mumbled as they stepped away from the Grimoire, Lucifer relaxed slightly as the two walked past him and down the hall.

When the two got back up to Beel’s room, Luke suddenly gasped and turned to MC.

“You said it was a spell book!”

After that, MC got the feeling that Luke was no longer welcome in the house. What was the big deal about almost touching the Grimoire anyway? It could only override pacts and control demons-

Oh.

Balls.

Simeon got called to pick up Luke and before the two of them left MC assured Luke that he could come over and hang out anytime as long as he texted first.

Beel said Luke could come over and bake when the kitchen was fixed, poor Beel would have to do without Luke’s baked goods for a little while longer.

MC rested their chin on the coffee table they were kneeling in front of, stewing in annoyance. Their unfinished homework was practically mocking them, but the Demonology textbook was not what had them in their funk.

“MC, do your homework.” Lucifer said from the living room couch, he was comparing his phone to notes in a binder that was placed on his lap.

A grunt from MC caused him to raise an eyebrow. Their grasp on demonic language had improved, but Lucifer did not approve of them using their new skill to sass him.

“MC.” Lucifer chided, MC turned to look at him with a deadpan expression. “If there’s something wrong, either tell me, or do your work without complaining.”

MC turned back to their homework and tapped their pencil against the textbook, before puffing out their cheek and turning back to Lucifer.

“What’s in the attic?”

For the briefest of moments, Lucifer froze, he forcibly relaxed and went back to his work.

“Junk.” Lucifer replied. “Did you try and go up there?”

MC shook their head. “No, I went into the staircase room, but not up the stairs.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed, he then took a deep breath and looked at MC. “Good, there’s nothing of interest up there anyway. If you did go up there you might break something or hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” MC sighed, trying to push the voice from the attic out of their mind. “What about the Grimoire? Why is it down in the tomb?”

Lucifer could feel his patience growing thinner and thinner with every question. “So it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Why not just destroy it?” MC asked, their question wasn’t meant to be taken as an insult or be malicious, it was just legitimate curiosity. “Wouldn’t that be safer?”

The first born hesitated before he answered. He looked over MC, before shaking his head. “...I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

MC’s eyes narrowed, but they went back to their work all the same. It would be about ten minutes of quiet before MC spoke up again.

“When Belphegor gets back from the human world, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, huh?”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to look at MC, who still had their back turned to him as they scribbled notes from the textbook. His grip on his DDD tightened as he replied.

“Why do you say that, MC?”

MC didn’t seem to register their father’s clipped tone, and shrugged. “Beel said that he isn’t answering his texts or calls, and when he sent up a letter Belphegor didn’t respond to that either.”

“The life of an exchange student is a busy one, as you can see.” Lucifer forcibly injected his last bit of remaining calmness into his words as he gestured at MC’s homework. MC laughed at that.

“Yeah well, I still make time to call my friends and ren back up in the human world.” MC giggled. “And I’m sure those text notifications about his older brother discovering that he has a child would make him pick up the phone.”

“Belphegor might have a much larger workload.” Lucifer retorted, trying to keep himself from snapping at MC.

“But still, you’d think he’d call his-”

“MC-” Lucifer snarled, MC whirled around, the fear and shock in their eyes caused anything Lucifer was going to say to die in his throat.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before Lucifer took another deep breath and turned back to his work.

“Not right now, MC,” Lucifer whispered. “I’m working.”

...

To be continued...

#Obey me #Obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me MC #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan #Lucifer’s Kid #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Luke #when I say to be continued- I mean more diverging from canon #I have a feeling the lovely London family trip went smoothly... totally

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Division. Yan Scaramouche x Reader [Implied x Yan Childe]

Warnings: Kidnapping, unwanted physical contact and implied suggestive themes. Word count: 1.3k.

While your body might be sore, it’s your arms that feel the worst.

They’re hoisted above your head with a rope secured tight around your wrists, longing for an opportunity to rest. You’ve been standing in this awkward position for many miserable hours. No windows in this dreary cobblestone prison make it difficult to tell the time or to find anything interesting to look at. There’s still no clear indication as to why you’ve ended up in this nightmare, much less when it will end. The person you’re assuming to be in charge has been subjecting you to malicious verbal jabs for the entire duration of your confinement.

“Truth be told,” he circles you like a hawk, his tone deceitfully sweet as honey, stopping only to admire your immobilized form. “I wasn’t sure what the appeal to you was at first.”

Scaramouche leans forward, soft strands of indigo hair brushing against your face as he closes the distance. He runs a finger over your exposed collarbone, mirth dancing in his eyes at the goosebumps following in its wake. “But now… I think I’m starting to get it.”

Mustering up your strength and courage, you narrow your eyes, glaring daggers at your captor. He’s thrilled at the sight, unable to hold back his laughter. The finger tails up, to the crux of your neck, which he then wraps his hand around. Your pulse accelerates at the unwelcome sensation, an element he doesn’t miss.

“You’re… you’re Fatui, right?” You inquire, refusing to take this torment in silence. Curious, he nods his head, the pad of his thumb rubbing up and down your neck slowly.

“If this is about the Northland bank loan, then you’re making a mistake. I’ve already cleared things up with your boss.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, you regret them. Scaramouche’s mischievous attitude dissipates, his eyes piercing through you and a scowl on his face. The tension in the room rises to new heights, thick and palpable.

“‘My boss’, you say,” he repeats with an irate click of his tongue as if it were the highest insult. “Tartaglia is no such thing, I can assure you.”

What can this be about then? Your final line of defense is crumbling, now aware that using Childe’s favor on you won’t be viable. It felt reprehensible to use it in the first place, but lowering yourself to such a level would’ve been inconsequential if it earned your freedom. Instead, it’s done the opposite, adding kindling to the flame. Never have you regretted anything in your life as much as your involvement with the Fatui bank.

Scaramouche removes his hands from you, a minor victory. What you said must’ve struck a nerve. Swallowing thickly, your mind searches desperately for any plausible escape. While you deliberate a plan, he crosses his arms against his chest, mouth set in a straight line.

“Tell me. Do you enjoy his company?” Scaramouche asks with a tilt of his head.

Licking your dry lips, you consider the question. Denial is the obvious answer, but speaking ill of a Harbinger feels like a death wish. Though he did seem rather displeased by mentioning Childe. Just when you thought you were beginning to understand the situation, that self-assuredness has been stolen, leaving more questions in its wake.

Testing your luck, you reveal the truth with a strained rebuttal. “No, I don’t.”

More laughter. He doubles over, clutching his stomach as if your serious confession is the funniest joke he’s heard his entire life. This unabashed cruelty is a far cry from Childe’s code of conduct. Childe prefers to openly flirt with you, acting coquettish, whispering dirty promises into your ear. Scaramouche’s methodology is entirely different. He revels in your discomfort, actively saying anything to gain a reaction, positive or negative. With a preference for the latter.

“Ah, what a shame he didn’t get to hear you say that,” Scaramouche wipes the corners of his dark eyes, laughter finally settling down. “I’d give anything to see what his reaction would’ve been.”

“Are you two… enemies, or something…?”

“He certainly thinks so now. I’m interested to see what Tartaglia plans to do, due to the fact Harbingers are forbidden to fight one another,” he hums, wrapping his fingers around a strand of your hair and playing with it. “Just how far would he go? I’m not sure myself, but I can’t wait to see.”

The word Harbingers rings in your head like a funeral toll. Does that mean Scaramouche is one as well? It would explain his lack of concern for Childe’s combat prowess if he has similar capabilities. When he first approached you, there was no doubting the power he possessed, even with a smaller stature. Why is it these terrible individuals are drawn to you like a moth to a flame? Why are the Archons subjecting you to such torment?

“Another question. Just how far has Tartaglia gone with--”

“My lord!” A booming voice interrupts, capturing the attention of you both. A person dressed in what you’ve come to recognize as Fatui’s uniform appears, bowing before a less than pleased Scaramouche.

“Lord Childe is demanding to speak with you,” The agent relays. “I know you said not to interrupt, but, this seems rather urgent.”

Scaramouche sighs, releasing your hair with a frown. “That was faster than I anticipated.”

So he was expecting this from the start. Is it relief that you feel? Your emotions are a mess, due to a lack of eating and bodily fatigue. While Childe is unpleasant company, Scaramouche is equally awful, even going so far as to restrain you. You curse yourself for almost preferring being subjected to Childe’s self-serving antics over this. At least Childe gives an illusion of freedom, even if you know it’s only that, an unobtainable reality. When he doesn’t make any movement to leave, the agent speaks up again. “My lord? What should I do?”

“Did you tell him to leave?” “As you commanded to, yes. I’m afraid he... insisted.”

“Of course the lovesick puppy did,” Scaramouche shakes his head. “No matter. I’ll deal with this myself. Head back and tell him to await my arrival.”

The term ‘lovesick puppy’ brings questions anew, as you’re solid in the belief what Childe feels for you isn’t love. Voicing this sentiment won’t get you anywhere, so you resolve to hold your tongue, silently steaming in your indignation.

The agent’s body stiffens and they clear their throat. “T-that’s the other issue, my lord. I’m afraid he’s… coming as we speak.”

Scaramouche doesn’t seem visibly bothered by the revelation, treating it as a mild thorn in his side than an urgent dilemma. You’re left speechless by the unfolding events, looking past the kneeling agent expectantly. Would you finally be able to leave this awful prison? You’d be going into the hands of one madman to the other’s, but the option is sounding oddly appealing at the moment.

Scaramouche returns his attention to you, appearing pleased with himself. “Be sure to tell him what you said to me earlier.”

Shifting uncomfortably where you stand, you look to the side, preferring not to be subject to his scrutinizing gaze. Objecting to Childe has never ended well for you. Then there’s the problem of Scaramouche -- how would he react to blatant disobedience -- is it possible his response would be worse for you? While you consider these things, Scaramouche starts to work on loosening your bonds.

He presses his lips against your ear and the ropes hit the ground.

“Or I might just say it myself. Your choice.”

#scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

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wonlouvre · 3 years

Note

could you do a demigod mingyu son of dionysus au :> something like gyu has fallen for reader who is mortal i’ve been wanting to read one ever since and i’m a big fan of of your works :> i would prefer it to be fluff though but you could put angst as long as its a happy ending

flawless | k. mg.

pairing: son of dionysus!mingyu x g.n. reader genre: fluff, modern greek mythology warnings: super tiny rating m in the end (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1k

💌: hello! i would like to apologize in advance if this isn’t what you wanted. i really don’t have any extensive knowledge about greek mythology and demigods, i’m sorry if there are inaccuracies :( thank you so much for reading my works though and sending this request! <3

The memory is vivid inside Mingyu’s mind. The surroundings, the sounds, the dialogue, the feeling. He remembers them all. He remembers you and how he started falling in love with you.

The first time he saw you, you were playing the piano at one of the musicals that his winery sponsored. Wine and performing arts come hand in hand for Mingyu, being the son of a god who enjoys them so much. Don’t take him wrong though, he loves them as much. It’s just that seeing you sparked a different joy that he never thought he would feel in all of his existence.

Mingyu thought it was just a fleeting feeling, an infatuation of some sort that would pass away someday. He tried to convince himself that maybe, just maybe, you only caught his eyes because you were brilliant and the performance you were accompanying with your talented hands was moving. But then again, you were not the first best performer he ever witnessed.

Maybe it’s because you were not only the best, but perfect instead.

Mingyu did everything that he could to not dive and invest himself in getting to know you. He told himself no, he’s not going to introduce himself to your production team and treat them to a nice and fancy dinner. But guess who won?

Mingyu invited everyone, from the cast members, the dancers, the band and up to the production crew in charge of the lighting, make-up and costume. Everyone. He held that dinner under the guise that he enjoyed the musical so much, they deserved a reward (they did). When the truth is, he held that dinner so that he could admire you eat, laugh and enjoy even though you were ten tables far away from him.

Mingyu can tell his resolve has crumbled down since then.

Sometimes, Mingyu forgets his apprehension in interacting way too much with humans. He has nothing against them. His mother is human for crying out loud. It’s the attachment and fear that he’s afraid of. No other human has ever loved him without judgments other than his mom.

Mingyu has always been stubborn with that belief until you came along and changed his mind.

It was during the final curtain call that Mingyu finally had the courage to go out his way and introduce himself personally to you. He watched every show with flowers in hand but never got the guts to give them to you. The expensive arrangement only gets left behind on the chair he sat on, sometimes confusing other audiences. But that time around, it became different.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you opened the door of the dressing room. “Which cast member do you wish to give this to? I’ll put them on their table.”

Mingyu’s breath got caught in his throat and his grip on the bouquet tightened. He lightly bit his tongue before extending his arms and finally giving the flowers to you.

“It’s actually for you,” Mingyu confessed, nervously waiting for you to accept his gift, his heart.

The demigod was successful in capturing your heart. It was inevitable to not fall in love with him anyway. Mingyu’s sincere affection didn’t stop at flowers. The romantic gestures continued and never stopped. Dinner dates, museum dates, musical dates, and winery dates just like now.

Mingyu almost chokes on the red wine he is drinking at what you have just said.

You know of Mingyu’s kind and they have been co-existing with humans for centuries. It’s not hard to know them, but Mingyu was a mystery. He was kind of dumbfounded when you told him, in genuine honesty, that you didn’t know that Dionysus, his father, had a son. Five months into your relationship, you had only just found out.

“Are you serious right now?” Mingyu asks and places the wine glass back on the table and leans closer to you.

You swallow your own drink while blinking at him. “Yes?”

“Babe, you really didn’t know?”

You nod and distance yourself from his handsome face because he keeps leaning closer and closer, you could fall.

Mingyu laughs, no he cackles, and leans back on his chair. You frown at him in confusion. What is so funny anyway? Your boyfriend’s eyes are tearing up, you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Look, of course I wouldn’t ask anyone ‘hey are you a complete human or a demigod?’” You defend yourself and cross your arms with a pout. “That’s a little offensive, you know. Plus, it doesn’t matter anyway. Demigod or not, you’re my boyfriend.”

Mingyu snorts and pulls your chair closer to him. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and plants a kiss on the side of your head.

What he says next surprises you.

“I could love you forever.”

Your eyes widen as you feel the warmth of his lips and the warmth of his words he didn’t even know he just blurted out.

When he feels your muscles tense up, Mingyu asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Mingyu,” you whisper, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and lips. “I—, did you just?”

“What?” Mingyu panics and holds your cheeks. “What did I do? What did I say?”

You giggle and kiss him, long and sweet. “You love me?”

Mingyu frowns. “What? You didn’t know?”

You roll your eyes and throw a soft jab on his toned stomach. He’s teasing you now and he’s trying to get away with it by trailing kisses on your cheek, jaw and neck. You almost release a moan when he finds a particular spot to nip on.

“Okay, big boy. Calm yourself down,” you reprimand and push his head away.

Mingyu groans and tightly hugs your waist, nuzzling his nose on your neck. You smile and massage his scalp, now he’s the one moaning.

“You have to say it back.”

You smirk and remain quiet.

“Hey,” Mingyu’s head pops back up. “Didn’t you hear me? I love you.”

You chuckle before finally giving in. “I love you too.”

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