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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months

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imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill.

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days.

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place.

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you.

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite.

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge.

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs).

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties.

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.)

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course.

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you.

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school.

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before…

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend.

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event.

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room.

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh.

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space.

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts.

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise.

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals.

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily.

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form.

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are.

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda.

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes.

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak.

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet.

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel.

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours.

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here.

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?”

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds.

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude.

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him.

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there.

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours.

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone.

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you.

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you.

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside.

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks.

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year.

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

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werelosingdaylight · 1 year

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The prettiest flower in the seven kingdoms

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

REQUESTED? Yes • [No]

WORD COUNT: 401

SUMMARY| Just you and your husband.

Adm Note: my first HOTD post! I apologize that it’s so short.

The meadows were beautiful this time of year, winds blowing through the trees with a silent song for those who would listen, tall grass swaying at your fingertips and the soil underneath your feet; but your favorite part of spring was the flowers. They bloomed with promises of rebirth, like a Phoenix being reborn from its ashes, different shades and kinds of flowers decorated the earth; not one of them being the same as another, much like the people that roamed the planet.

While you loved the beauty of the flowers, there was another reason the flowers were your favorite part of spring. You had left a letter for your husband to meet you in the fields, you were sitting within the field of flowers and grass when he arrived.

Brown eyes clashing against lilac ones, you are easy to spot in the field; Snow White hair being styled into some kind of bun that Jace didn’t know the name of, though he had a hunch your mother had done it.

When he joined you, sitting at your side, neither of you spoke; enjoying the moment with your beloved. You had been wed to Jace for only three moon turns, but your connection was always there.

Soon enough, you had finished weaving the flowers together, a blue flower crown sat in your lap as you turned your torso to face your husband. Grabbing the flower crown you placed it upon his head, the brown hair softly cushioning the handmade gift.

“I apologize, these are the second prettiest flowers, but they are the only ones I could give to you.” You murmured, your hand moving to rest on his jaw, thumb brushing mindlessly across his cheekbone as confusion clouded over his features.

You had leaned forward, carefully resting your forehead against his as you spoke once again, your lips just barely ghosting over his own “for you are the prettiest flower to have blessed the seven kingdoms.” and Jace couldn't have stopped the blush from crossing his cheeks if he had wanted too.

You had placed your lips on his own, the kiss was softer than most could imagine; radiating the love you both held for one another. You smiled into the kiss as you felt him melt into your touch, his hand coming to cup the back of your neck.

Yeah, he was definitely the prettiest flower in the seven kingdoms.

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jenniferswhor3 · 2 years

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you're not cool enough - stiles stilinski

teen wolf masterlist | masterlist

requests are currently closed.

spiderman!stiles stilinski x reader

summary; secrets get revealed and yet, you don't believe it

warnings; cursing, kissing

authors note; this spiderman!au is mostly inspired by that one picture of dylan

"no way, you're not cool enough."

if there's one thing you know about beacon hills, it was extremely unpredictable.

after finding out scott was a werewolf, your life became pretty hectic. you and your friend group were fighting all sort of supernatural villains. from kanima’s to nogitsune’s, safe to say you and your friends had your fair share of villains.

the one thing you could've never, ever, predicted was a superhero. you heard that right, the whole city of beacon hills and some surrounding towns had its very own superhero.

it wasn't unusual, there were other superhero around the world. it was just strange beacon hills had one. you had fought all different kinds of supernatural beings and evil people, so why a superhero. it was nice to have someone fight the non-supernatural criminals that were big enough the cause havoc that's too much for the police. but it was all so weird.

the villains kept getting weirder and weirder. it started out with bank robber and thief's, but it escalated, and fast. they started getting comic-like. villains that you would've thought you and your friends fought, but the masked man did.

there was a man who created a pair of metal wings the flew around destroying things, a former scientist turned crazy with robotic tenticles coming out of his back, and even a man who was electric.

sooner or later, it felt normal to have him around. he was like a blessing in disguise. often times you'd see him helping an old lady cross the street or returning a bike to a young boy who had tears in his eyes, he even bought him ice cream afterwards. the whole city fell in love with this masked vigilante, and so did you.

the blue and red clad spandex, mask-wearing, superhero quickly became some sort of celebrity crush. he stole your attention every time anyone mentioned him. you could only imagine what he looked like underneath that mask. the boy who called himself spiderman even sounded attractive.

you pictured this lean yet muscular body, dark colored hair either brown or black, and amazing cheekbones. you had doodled different samples of what he could look like. you had a major crush on someone you didn't even know what looked like.

but what you didn't know is you based your little masked crush on your best friend, stiles. stiles has had the biggest crush on you since forever, and so have you, except you didn't know of it. you always played off because you didn't think you could be attracted to your best friend.

you had spent multiple months wondering who in this crazy town was spiderman, you never, ever, thought it could be your best friend.

you and stiles were currently sitting on your living room floor with all your homework spread across the coffee table. you both were studying for a big test in your upcoming sociology class. you had the tv playing in the background with the news playing.

"okay, true or false: the–" stiles begins to say before the news interrupts him.

it was a news story about spidey's latest take down. "shh!" you silenced stiles to listen closely.

stiles only rolled his eyes at your infatuation to the superhero. he loved that you had a crush on spiderman because he was spiderman, but what he hated was that what if he told you he was spiderman and you were disappointed? what if you didn't like him?

he shook out all those bad thoughts and tuned into to what the news reporter was saying about his latest take down. the female reporter explained how he took down a group of bank robbers with high tech weapons. you partially had hearts for eyes as you watch phone footage of him defending himself. “i hope he’s okay.” stiles heard you mumble to himself.

once the story ended and the commercials rolled through, you put your attention back to stiles and your schoolwork. "i wonder who spiderman is."

"i could be spiderman." stiles said with a shrug.

"ha. funny." you say not taking your eyes off your paper.

you can sense stiles having a look of disbelief. looking up, you proved your senses, his jaw was slack and his brows furrowed. he was spastically trying to find words to say. "its because you aren't cool enough." you shrugged jokingly.

"pfft. whaat?! i am so cool enough to be spiderman." he stammered out.

you were only half-assing your words. of course your best friend was cool enough to be spiderman and you wouldn't doubt it either, considering all the weird stuff in this city. its just, you couldn't picture him as spiderman. you couldn't picture stiles as your masked crush.

weeks went by and the masked man still held your attention. stiles had been debating on whether on not to tell you. his major fear of you being disgusted by him being your masked crush shook him to the core.

it made him wonder how it would be like after he told you. would you be tame about it, would you somehow miraculously like him back, or would you stop being friends and never speak again. he also wondered if you would go and tell the whole city his secret identity.

you had also been doing some thinking of your own. about stiles, specifically. his boyish charm had been sneaking its way to your heart. his witty and sarcastic comebacks, his ability to make you laugh no matter what, and his charming good looks have been wrapped around your brain for weeks.

you didn't want to confirm it, in fear of potentially getting rejected and losing one of the best friendships you had ever experienced, but you had been falling for your best friends. not suddenly, but you realized you had begun falling for him a while ago. you don't know when or how but its been quite a while.

on one uneventful night, on your part, you had been sitting on your bed doing homework. your headphones were blasting your homework playlist loud enough so you couldn't hear any potential distractions. everyone else in the house was asleep so the was for sure gonna be no distractions.

except for the abrupt knock on your second story window. you hadn't heard it the first few knocks, the continuous knocks didn't line up to the beat of the song in your ears so you suspected in was something outside of your headphones.

your bedroom was on the second story and there were no surrounding trees anyone could climbing up or have knock on the window on a windy day. so naturally you were curious, and frankly a bit scared, as to who or what could be at the window.

now stiles had a long, long night. there was a new and unwanted villain in town and stiles, well spiderman, was the first to respond.

the new villain in town called himself grizzly. his motives were unknown but stiles knew he was some sort of ex-fighter with a bear themed design. he wore a suit of fur with real authentic, and sharp, claws. stiles had learned that the hard way.

grizzly had been wrecking havoc on innocent people of beacon hills. he was destroying property and stole valuables all to get the attention of spiderman. for some reason, grizzly had it out for him. the suit grizzly wore made him have some sort of super strength ability, making his jabs more painful.

their fight lasted longer than stiles thought it would. after countless punches, claw marks, and web slinging, the fight was over. the cops finally arrived and removed the costume from grizzly and took him into custody.

it was a nasty fight. stiles had more hits on him than he suspected. despite his mask, he knew he still had multiple cuts and bruises along his face, multiple on his arms and legs, and four deep slashes from grizzly's claws right on his torso, cutting right through his suit. he couldn't go home, not like this, nor to any of his friends houses to keep his identity a secret.

he was limping down the cold asphalt with nothing but the moonlight lighting his path. the roads were empty and stiles was thankful for this, no drivers would wander up to him and ask him for a ride– he just wanted to be alone.

not completely alone, his subconscious thoughts led him right to your driveway. he sighed, the truth was going to come out sooner or later. he didn't want it to be like this, he didn't want to have to tell you while battered and bruised. he just hoped you would take it lightly.

stiles webbed his way up to your second story window and knocked on your window, slightly wincing from the bruises on his knuckles. he hoped and prayed you weren't asleep as knocked again and again. sooner or later, due to his heightened senses, he heard shuffling around the room.

you had gotten up and cautiously made your way to the window. slowly opening the curtains, you were shocked to see the masked boy you had a crush on at your window. "spiderman?!" you almost shouted but stopped yourself when you remembered the house was sleeping.

he frantically nodded and pointed to the window, telling you to open it.

when he stepped in to your room, you finally see the damage he had taken. the four large slashes really catching your eyes. "holy shit! are you okay? what am i saying, or course you aren't." you rambled on.

spiderman didn't say any words to you, scared you would recognize the voice. "wait a minute," you started. "how did you know where i live? how do you know who i am?"

it was now or never. stiles needed to remove the mask so it wouldn't get weird. he needed to know you were safe.

slowly, he reached his hand the wasn't occupied by holding his side up to his mask and pulled it off his head.

the dark fluffy hair and honey brown eyes were truly recognizable. behind the painful looking bruises and cuts you could see the boy who you loved. for a moment all you saw was stiles, not spiderman, but finally came to your senses. "stiles?!"

"i know, i know. listen, i just–"

"what the hell? how long has this been a thing?"

"um– well, about a couple years." he finally looked you in the eyes with a pity, half-assed smile, "surprise."

"no way," stiles' eyebrow raised. you decided to poke at him a bit. you weren't mad, a bit surprised in all honesty. but you can discuss all this later after you help clean him up. "you're not cool enough." a smirk almost present.

"wha–" stiles stared before you interrupted him.

"im kidding." you say with a small bit of chuckle. "now," you say looking at his cuts concerned. "what the hell happened to you."

while stiles explained the fight and this man so called named "grizzly", you were cleaning and stitching up his cuts. you needed him to take off his suit so you could have more access to all of his cuts. this left him in only his boxers, which stiles rocked a permanent shade of pink spread across his cheeks.

by the time you finished cleaning up stiles, he looked like the poster child for child safety. "thanks." stiles sheepishly said. between the amount on flinching and blood, you're surprised neither you or stiles didn't pass out.

"its no problem. now, explain everything."

so that's what stiles did. he told you how he was bit by a radioactive spider, he explained all of his new powers, and even explained some of the villains he fought. "still think im not cool enough." stiles said teasing you as he picked up on your amazed expression throughout the storytelling.

"yeah, yeah." you let out a small laugh. "i just did a load of laundry, some of your clothes were in there. i can go get them if you want."

"yeah, sure. that's fine."

as you ran downstairs, stiles rehearsed lines in his head like he was performing in a play. he was trying to figure out everything to say to you.

you also have been doing some thinking of your own. none of your feelings have changed, in fact, your feelings have amplified. having your masked "celebrity" crush be your real life crush.

you returned with a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt. "i'll just– i'll leave you to change."

before you could even turn the doorknob, you felt something attach onto your back and spin you around. you found yourself chest to chest with stiles. he had webslinged you towards him. his arms wrapped around your waist while yours fall to his chest.

both heavy breathing, stiles speaks up first, "i didn't really think this far through." he gave a small chuckle which you returned.

your smiles faltered and silence fell over you two.

oh, fuck it, you both thought while pulling each other closer till your lips met. the molded together like they were meant to be together.

you both pulled away after needed some air, resting your foreheads against each others. “i’m so glad you turned out to be spider-man.” you said just above a whisper, still not taking your foreheads off each other.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nodded leaning in for another kiss. you two had made you way onto your bed.

“be mine?” stiles said as he pulled away for air.

you smiled sweetly and nodded, leaning in for another kiss.

after many minutes of kissing, you two were now cuddling in sweet silence. “so am i cool enough now?” stiles brought up. all you did was laugh and nod in response before curling up impossibly closer to him. you had your very own super hero as your boyfriend and you couldn’t be happier.

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fllagellant · 6 months

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Brief Zerxes-ing but I think he uses the ability to connect with Gale via the weave often because physical touch and intimacy is quite frightening to him . For many reasons . And it’ s part of the reason why he took up being a cleric and focusing on doing burial rites in the first place . To have that wall between himself and physical contact due to his status and the dirt still on his hands and the visible sign of a curse/pact/blessing ( he uses these words interchangeably ) on his skin . But Gale does not care about any of that . But Zerxes knows that if he makes himself open to physical contact before he is ready it will end in Disaster .

But the Weave and the connections they can share in the Weave are different . They just have to Think about what they want , invision what would be nice to have and experience . And they can feel it ! They can both feel what that experience is ! They can look each other in the eyes , fingertips barely touching each others hands , and still be able to feel the joys of a hug or a kiss or the domesticness of tucking hair behind the ear and hands touching when they study old tomes together . It’ s the first step for Zerxes for him to be able to accept kind touch

I think the second big step is . Mage hand . Holding hands while walking even if it is just a mage hand your boyfriend summoned up and he’ s holding the one you summoned for him . It’ s being able to trust the other won’ t touch you in a way that is bad , and if it turns out that something is bad and neither of you could have guessed it would be bad ? Then the hand vanishes at the word . And the magic can easily be transformed into something to help the feeling of discomfort go away

They sit across from each other at the campfire and they do not touch or lean into each other space but they still share their joys together and use mage hand to cup each others cheeks . Zerxes imagines pressing a kiss to Gales forehead and Gale smiles a bit wider while the mage hand he’ s using runs its thumb along Zerxes cheekbone . They go to sleep and let the mage hands linger until they can no longer focus on keeping them gently stroking the other’ s hair or slowly rubbing the other’ s back . Just letting Zerxes acclimate to everything at his own pace .. . . .

#bg3 #bg3 tav #zerxes #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav

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lokisprettygirl · 2 years

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The Night Screams at The Slumber Island (Loki x Female Reader) (Horror Romance) (Dark) (Au) (18+)

Read Chapter 18 here //Series Masterlist

Chapter 19

Summary : Sometimes you just have to reveal your fears in order to overcome them.

Warning: Steamy stuff, this chapter is also long, 18+, discussion of rape, discussion of threesomes and poly relationships, sexual abuse, gaslighting, cheating, drinking, mention of Suicide, discussion of mental illness, therapy, imprisonment, god kink has a potential here, please read carefully. If something triggers you please don’t read it

You felt a shift in the middle of the night so you opened your eyes and Loki was getting out of your clutches very sneakily, like a cat..

"Leaving?" You asked him, making him smile in response. He didn't want to wake you up.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Do you have to leave?" You asked him and it made him feel conflicted

If he were to leave the cell of punishment, he'd be exiled immediately from Asgard, he could never go back, never see Frigga again unless she would want to, he could never meet his brother Thor. Differences in their characters apart, they grew up together and loki had admired him alot but after committing the crime of exposing himself to a mortal, both Frigga and Thor had abandoned him, that's how he has felt.

But then if he was to leave the imprisonment he would wander around his whole life aimlessly with no companion by his side and he had a long life to live still, he could never tell the truth about himself, he would be killed if he does. And he wasn't the type of person to form relationships based on lies, his feelings were only growing for you every passing day but he could never ask you to make such a sacrifice for him, what would your life be like with him? You would never be able to tell anyone about him, not even your friends.

The look in your eyes weakened him so he crawled back into the bed,

"I don't have to leave..no" he whispered as he kissed you softly making you smile.

"Are there more gods up there?"

He nodded, there were so many gods but they weren't godly.

"Name a famous one" he chuckled as you said that.

"Thor?" You gasped as he replied.

"Thor exists?"

"He does, we are brothers"

"Thor is your brother?" You asked him curiously, your eyes widened at the realization

"I was ..umm adopted"

"Gods get adopted?" Everything he said only fascinated you more and more, he adored loved the quizzical look on your face.

"I was, we are not gods in the literal sense, we get blessed with the title and..how do I say this in a polite manner? We just take that title a little too solemnly..I'm the youngest Prince of Asgard as for now"

A literal Prince? He reminded you of those Disney Princes with their long shiny flowy hair and angelic looks.

"But you are magical and you're still so kind and soft, can't imagine a human being that way with such authority in hand, they'll destroy everything and everyone"

"Hmmm that is true, that's why humans are not blessed with such powers" And you were thankful for that. Humans didn't deserve it either.

"Were you hurt when you learned about the adoption?" You asked him and he breathed in deeply.

"'Not hurt per say, I was just a child when mother told me the truth, I had always felt different from them, was a little upset for a while but I came out of it feeling grateful that they accepted me into the family"

"They must be very lucky to have you"

Well, He wasn't really sure of it any longer "What happened lo? Why did you say to me that your people weren't your people anymore?" He sighed at the question, his thumb brushed over your cheekbones and the touch made you feel tingly.

"Something happened, I did something I wasn't supposed to do"

"Something bad?"

"For them, yes. It wasn't bad for me, it was the purest thing I have ever done in my life"

You couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with you but then your mind told you that you'd never be that important for anyone, let alone a mighty being from other realm, a perfect Prince, a god.

"They'll forgive you someday..how could they not..you're the kindest sweetest loveliest man I have ever known.. especially when you are with a woman " you whispered softly and his heart fluttered in his chest. He loved the praises especially when it was you who praised him, it felt as if he had truly earned it because he knew how hard it was for you to trust anyone anymore.

"I wasn't always like this"

"How were you like?" You giggled as you got on top of him, he made a mental note to make you giggle more often. Your legs situated next to his waist, he was a vision beneath you and it was getting harder for you to keep your hands to yourself.

"I was very promiscuous, very careless around women and extremely naughty" you leaned down to kiss him, his words made you smile against his mouth, that posh accent didn't help.

"I don't believe you" he chuckled as you said that.

"No lies here I promise"

"Mmmm but you changed..you're not very careless anymore..are you?"

"I'm not that person anymore darling "

"I know..I can tell"

You kissed him again before you laid on top of him, putting all your body weight on him, hoping he didn't feel crushed.

When you woke up in the morning he was gone. Obviously. You weren't surprised but you couldn't deny that it bothered you alot, he always disappeared like that and you had no right to be upset, he wasn't your boyfriend or your lover but then what was the relationship between you two?

You showered and got ready for school, as much as you didn't want to go out there you had several problems to tackle with, the island has been an anomaly and nobody has ever gotten suspicious? People have gone missing from this Island before and the first person was Minola Wright herself, she established this colony here along with four people she trusted, her friends, and then she disappeared in a week? Where could she go? You had no idea but you had to figure out.

These are the questions you are supposed to be asking Loki but when he's with you, all you want to do is cuddle him and talk about your lives, kiss him and touch him, lots of that. And love him most of all.

On the way to school you saw Marjorie and gave her a smile even though she creeped you out, she seemed like one of those women who would talk shit about people all the time but will pretend to be nice on their faces.

"Feeling alright today?" You heard Bruce's voice as you were stepping out of the school after finishing your day, he made you extremely uncomfortable especially whenever you were alone with him.

"Yess why won't I?" You snapped a little and he chuckled.

"Whoa whoa whoa a little snappy here ..are we?" He glared at you as you walked past him, you had to turn around to confirm that he wasn't following you. "Bloody Asshole" you cursed under your breath, Bruce was really getting on your nerves. Then you made your way to Steve's shop, he grinned from ear to ear as he looked at you.

"Hi Steve" you smiled, keeping your voice as sweet as you could.

"Heyy .you need something?" He looked at you as he placed his arm on the counter so you sat down on the stool he had kept in the front.

"Nothing I was just.. thinking about you last night.. couldn't stop thinking until I fell asleep" You felt disgusted as you flirted with him, you had no desire to do so, you felt nothing for him but you had to get in his good books, he knew all the secrets and he was utterly desperate for a female company.

"Really?" He smiled and you nodded. You placed your fingers on his knuckles to caress the skin gently, it made you want to hurl but somehow you found your confidence.

"Mmhmmm..was just.. thinking about how you stood up for me ..you know..when Bruce was being so mean to me" you made your eyes tear up to sell the act but your heart beat sped for real when he placed his hand on yours and squeezed it tightly. You thought about Loki in the moment even though you knew you could very well protect yourself, normally you would snatch your hand away from him but you had to make him fall for you.

"He's an asshole, don't listen to him babe" he brought his fingers up to caress your cheek and it made you shiver in all the bad ways. You kept screaming Loki's name in your head.

As soon as you called for him, he was there, he was there for you every time you felt yourself to be in danger.

He saw you flirting with Steve, he didn't know what your intentions were but he definitely could tell that you weren't flirting with him because you liked him, you knew he was not the type of man you could ever trust.

He knew everything but still he was jealous, he was furious when you put your hands on him, he got more and agitated as he watched the conversation flow between you two in that gross flirtatious manner.

"How can I not? People of this island..they make me feel so unsafe Steve..after last night..I can only trust you" Steve smiled more and more as you worked your charm on him, you didn't even know you had this in you still.

Loki noticed how your voice modulated into a sensuous tone, you were barely whispering to Steve by the end of your sentence.

"You can trust me baby .. I'd never hurt you.. sweetheart"

No that awful mortal shouldn't dare address you by that petname, you're not anyone's sweetheart. You were his.

In moments like this all he wanted to do was be selfish and take you far away from this place, fuck the truth and everything else, he just wanted you to belong to him, he never wanted to see another man touch you ever again but he couldn't be that man, it won't be fair to you, you deserved to choose your path and seek the truth, you deserved to fullfill your purpose and save your friend from this hell, he can't take this away from you.

Steve asked for a date but you told him that you'll think about it, that he had to earn the date. You wanted him to dangle by the thread you were holding, you didn't want him to think as if he had you completely.

When you came back home you showered and tried to scrub away your hands and face, his touch made your skin crawl, the more you thought about him, the worse you felt.

You didn't have much time to dwell over it because as soon as you came out you heard the phone ringing, hoping that it was Natasha you ran towards the phone to pick it up.

"Hello"

"Y/n?" You heard Nat's voice whispering and it made you feel worried.

"Nat? Are you ok?"

"Are you?" She asked you

"What do you mean..I am okay..you saw me last night"

"I don't know what happened..I did what he asked me to..I had to..I had to do it"

"Nat? What are you saying? I ..I am not able to understand you..who asked you to do it and what?" she started crying as you said that.

"Clint..he gave me something last night, a vial, it had ummm… a liquid of some kind..he wanted me to add them to your food and drinks" your heart felt still as she confessed that, you didn't want to believe that she would ever hurt you like that.

"And you did?" Your eyes teared up, you felt betrayed even though you knew that she must have been desperate too to even think of doing such a thing to you.

"I had to..he's my husband, I love him y/n ..but he promised me that it wasn't poison..they need you Alive..they won't kill you just how they didn't kill me" every hair in your body stood up as she whispered, you couldn't even recognise the person on the other side of the phone, this wasn't your Nat, it's been more than a year, and you knew what trauma could do to a person, they had manipulated and transformed your fiery best friend into this docile weak woman you weren't familiar with.

"Nat..you're scaring me..what is going on?" You wiped your tears as you asked her sternly.

"Just give up, Steve told Clint you were flirting with him today, he was so happy..keep him happy..I have to go..he's back"

"No Nat listen.." before you could say anything else she hung up the phone. What has he done to her? You couldn't help but cry more and more as you thought about her, she has been through alot since that night you two got seperated.

After a while you decided to make an early dinner, you wanted to call Loki but you didn't want to trouble him, you wondered if he'd ever come to you on his own? Did he miss you enough to see you if you didn't need him or called for him? You popped in your sleeping pills and went to bed early so you won't have to miss him because you knew that's all you'll do in the waking state, you'll miss him with every inch of your presence and it felt torturous.

As soon as your mind entered into the deep sleep, you had a dream, you saw yourself in front of Steve's shop, sitting in the same spot as you had this morning with your hand in his hand but the man holding your hand wasn't Steve, it was Loki instead. You could feel how safe it felt to be held by him, his touch didn't disgust you.

"I was thinking about you last night..all night..until I fell asleep" he smiled as you said that,

"I was thinking about you too love..what were you thinking of?" he caressed your cheek with his fingers so you leaned into the touch.

"Just..you..how you saved me from those people"

"Yeahh? You know I'm here for you darling" He whispered softly, his fingers caressed the back of your hand tenderly.

"I feel so unsafe lo, you're the only one I could ever trust ..not just on this island but anywhere"

"And you'll have me wherever and whenever you need me" he brushed his thumb over your lip and it made you shiver, in all the good ways, the best ways.

"What about you? Do you need me lo? Do you want me? Do you trust me?" He cupped your cheeks and leaned into you to kiss you.

But before you could get his answer the alarm started to blare very loudly waking you up.

You woke up with heavy breaths and a thumping heart, the dream felt so real, you could still feel his touch on your skin, his mouth moving on yours, you craved his touch and you longed for it, you wanted him to touch you more intimately, as you showered your fingers mindlessly worked your clit, you braced yourself against the wall, eyes closed and mouth open as the sensations built, you wished it was Loki touching you instead, you wished it was him making you cum and that's why you stopped before you could reach the height of pleasure. You wanted him to be the one to push you off the edge but did he want that? Or he just wanted to heal you and keep you safe.

Were you anything more than a liability for him?

You hated feeling this way, you were so determined that after those horrible occurrences you'd never fall for a man again but life had other plans. You haven't seen him since he disappeared a day before, and you knew it was because you didn't call for him.

You went to the farmer's market first, and then you finished your shift at the school. On the way back you met Steve and he asked you if you wanted to go to the beach so you agreed, denying him again and again would make him suspicious. However you couldn't stay still, he made you so uncomfortable as he kept trying to hold your hand and touch you in other ways.

Loki watched you going through this torture and it angered him, his anger wasn't valid or even righteous, you're not his lover, you don't belong to him and he can't possibly be upset with you for this but his heart said otherwise, it felt hurt and saddened to see you with another man, you didn't even call him yesterday at any point and it only made him feel worse .

As you came back home you scrubbed your hands again, his touch infuriated you but he had agreed to visit the house tomorrow, you told him that you wanted to make dinner for him, he figured that you wanted to have sex with him or something and he couldn't lose this opportunity.

You noticed how terrified he was at the thought of visiting the Minola house but he was also desperate for you, maybe tomorrow you'll find some answers. You did feel scared of being with a man all alone but Loki would be there like he promised, you didn't think you would have been able to be so bold if you didn't have his support.

While you cooked at night you called Loki, just because he won't see you himself that doesn't mean you wanted to come across as ungrateful for everything else he was doing for you.

You were more than blessed to have him.

"Sorry I slept early last night" you mumbled to him so he hummed. He leaned his frame against the counter like he always does.

"You want tea? I made dinner..can we have dinner after the tea?" You asked him and he smiled.

"Okay" Okay? you wanted him to say more than just okay. You wanted him to tell you that he missed you yesterday. Because you fucking missed him more than anything.

"So umm.. how was your day? Anything interesting?" You asked him as you crossed your arms, you felt stupid asking such a generic question.

"It was alright, how was your day?"

"Good ..Steve is coming for dinner tomorrow " You said to him as you turned around to pour the tea into the cups, you didn't know why you told him that, you were trying to get a reaction.

"I know that very well..I saw the flirtations that occurred between you two, darling"

"Ohh..You did?" A small smile crept on your face, was he jealous? His tone suggested that.

"Yes because even when you were with another man, you were only thinking about me.. sweetheart" You walked towards him and kissed him as he said that, he kept his hands to himself like always so you grabbed them and placed them on your hips, he moaned into your mouth as he felt your plump flesh under his palm.

"Are you jealous of him?" You asked him, regretting your words immediately as soon as it left your mouth, why would a god be jealous of a stupid man like Steve?

"Jealous of that good for nothing mortal Steve? Noooooo.. But am I jealous of the aspect that youuuu tried to entice that menial human? Yes I am darling, I am" You kissed him again as soon as he was done speaking, so it wasn't one sided right? These feelings that you had for him weren't just on your part.

"Immm sorry lo.. I just..why won't you come see me? I feel..bad that you won't come see me yourself"

Your eyes teared up as you questioned him, his hands dragged from your hips to your back slowly, the touch made you moan, then he brought his hands forward to cup your cheeks.

"I didn't know if that's what you wanted, I don't want to invade your privacy or act as if I belong here all the time"

You wouldn't mind him being here all the time, you wouldn't mind belonging to him or have him to come home to.

"Do you miss me when we are apart?" He wiped the tears away and kissed you as passionately as he could, was he not being clear with his actions?

"Apart? I yearn for you even when we are together, I am missing you this very moment because you are not close enough to me darling" His words felt like music to your ears, you just wanted to know if he craved your company as much as you did and you had your answer. You kissed him again, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly then he pressed his head between the crook of your neck to place soft little kisses.

"Lo??"

"Mmmhm?" He responded you but he didn't stop the kisses.

"You can come see me anytime you want..I ..i want you to do that" he looked up as you said that, his eyes were teary so you got on your tip toes and kissed his forehead.

"Okay" you stepped away from him as much as you didn't want to but he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer, his control weakened for a moment as he had to keep you close to him, he hoped that you knew that he'd never hurt you like that and you did, nothing could have changed that perception for you.

Now you felt bad about not calling him yesterday, you didn't even know where he went to whenever he disappeared, was he even eating? Or taking care of himself? You had no idea.

After dinner he asked you very politely if he could use your shower so while he was in there you made the bed, you felt nervous going to bed with him, not in a bad way, it was just a little overwhelming to realize how deeply you were falling for him, after he showered you did the same and changed into a night dress, when you came out he was sprawled out on the bed in all his half naked tall glory and the sight made you smile.

You crawled on top of him then you locked your fingers with his to lift him up so he was in the sitting position too,

"Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away" he smiled as he responded but a dainty little gasp escaped his lips as you trailed your fingers over his ripped torso.

"Do you know everything? The truth about everything?"

"Not everything darling, I don't know how it's all going to end"

"But you know how it began?"

He nodded in response making you sigh

"And I'm assuming you won't tell me?"

"I can't do that..it's your truth to discover, just like you had to remember that you had seen me before, that you have been here before, it happened when it was supposed to happen, too much information at once can be damaging, I don't want that" You nodded as he said that. "It's your path and you have to walk on it to reach wherever you're meant to be" his voice was soft and whispery, you understood his point, you just wanted to be assured.

"But do I have a ..umm a friend on this journey?" You looked down as you questioned him so he placed his fingers on your chin to make you look at him.

"You have a friend in me..you have me however you want me..and I want to be here for you, I absolutely want to be here ..I'm not doing you any favors, you're not my liability, you're the priority"

Your eyes teared up and you had nothing to say to him anymore, how could you ever top that? So you laid him down on the bed slowly, he conjured a fluffy blanket to submerge you both in it, he used his charm to turn the lights off and you saw a few candles floating in the air so it wasn't completely dark, all of it seemed surreal.

The night screamed at the Slumber Island but you couldn't hear it tonight, his heartbeat drowned any other noises that could have disrupted your sleep and when the morning came around you didn't wake up alone this time.

You had him by your side.

💚❤️💚 ❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

#loki x female reader #loki #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader insert #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki x reader angst #loki alternate universe #loki horror romance #loki horror au #loki au #loki fics #dark themes

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writingsofwesteros · 1 year

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I was thinking of Stev and Viserys and can you imagine if he married a strong woman as his second wife instead of Alicent? I had to do a little thing about it! And I’ve got no one else to show as I have no friends..

She’s strong willed, trains with all types of weapons, has the Stark height (she’s 5’10”), has the mouth of a sailor, she’s got a built stature, you can see the muscles and the time she’s put into training, she stands up for herself when it comes to men and lords who think they’re better than her, wears dresses only when necessary and prefers her pants and shirts as she often trains and hunts, she’ll wear them for court appearances though, just to please them. A lot of people look down on her and think she’s beastly and an embarrassment, well the rich South people do, in the North she’s praised for being fierce and standing up for herself, her beliefs and her rights, her father just absolutely adores her, she’s his only girl and the apple of his eye.

When she arrived at the Red Keep no one could deny her beauty as much as they despised to do so. Curled, dark black hair reaching her her mid back in braids and twists, eyes a light grey bordering on white, they immediately pulled you in, she had a dazzling smile, white teeth, beautiful nose that compliments her face, high cheekbones but a strong jaw, plush red lips that were enticing on her pale skin. They just couldn’t deny her beauty what so ever which only went to annoy the ladies more because why was this brutish lady, with the habits of a man, blessed by the gods despite her lack of manners and her unladylike habits.

Viserys heard about her hobbies and what she gets up to, he was honestly expecting a grotesque woman with a beard who belches out burps constantly, asking for more ale. He needed to keep the alliance with the North though, he can’t just hope they’ll always bend their knee to them especially when they’re the largest of the seven kingdoms. He has to keep the alliance up and it was between her and two children no older than his daughter.

She’s ethereal though, lovely and kind honestly, she treats every one the same; Lord, Ladie, animal, commoner, traveler etc… she loves animals, she’s smart and has a silver tongue that can cut through the almost stubborn of men, she runs rings around his council and always has the best ideas due to growing up helping her brother be ready to claim the Warden of the North title.

She makes it known that just because he’s king doesn’t mean she’ll bend over backwards to please him and ruin her life in the process, it’s a mutual agreement and there’ll be respect from both sides, she promises she’ll do her best to be a good wife and give help when needed but she won’t give and not get back but she’ll do her duty as she’ll be making an oath on her wedding day and she’ll be damned if she’s the first Stark to break an oath.

Viserys gets quite the shock when she speaks to him like he isn’t the king and her superior. He agrees with her words because no woman had actually stood up to him despite him being quite soft, even if he’s a king and Targaryen, she’s a proud woman and will not be subjected to a mockery of the people because her husband doesn’t respect her. He’s like a submissive puppy looking into her eyes and just agreeing to whatever she spits out as it feels quite nice not to have everything piled on his shoulders, at least he knows his second wife will be a wonder ti the seven kingdoms and a good person to him.

LOVE IT!!

I also think it works because Viserys can be so submissive most of the time. I am sure she would be able to bring him from that shell.

Your description is STUNNING! I love her already. I think it works perfectly !

#a strong QUEEN #au

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shions-new-blog-of-stuff · 2 years

Text

"Crossing Paths"

I wrote this as a gift for @whateverthefuckyouwantiguess and with their blessing I'm posting it for all my lovely moots to see 💓

@when-are-we-gonna-play-squash

@residentdreamy

@macabrecakes

@allen-444

@likesugarandcyanide

@momma-vi

@cilantro24

@lottathoughts

@leonwifey

This is basically Chapter 7 of my RE4 fic from Leon's perspective (game wise it's during Chapter 1-2) Enjoy!

The villager groaned and exhaled one last breath before falling off the bridge, eventually disappearing in the seemingly endless pit below. Just before the area echoed with the sounds of gunfire and shouting. Now all that could be heard was the wind howling and Leon catching his breath. He shook his head and placed a hand on the side of his neck. He had a lingering feeling of being poked with something sharp, after being knocked unconscious by that enormous man with a beard.

Maybe he was just imagining things.

Leon made his way across the shoddy wooden bridges, loading more bullets into his gun. Something was definitely wrong with the locals. What exactly was wrong, he didn't know just yet. All he had to go on for now was that Ashley's in a church, and he needed to get there.

He approached the large green gate with an indentation in the middle. Taking out the halves of a stone emblem, placed them into the recess. The pieces were broken but maybe they'll still work?

click

Leon pushed the gate open, quickly drawing his gun. He could hear the rapid crunch of footsteps as a small figure rushed behind a tent. It happened so fast he couldn't see who or what it was. Well, that was different--he saw Luis run away, and every villager that spotted him immediately became hostile and tried to attack him.

"Ashley?" he called out, lowering his gun.

Silence.

He put his gun back into its holster, feeling that weird sensation on the side of his neck again. Before him was a rusty container, a dingy white tent, and a large set of white doors. A broken device with a hose was just off to his side, still leaking water which made a large puddle. Walking up to it he crouched down to try to see his reflection in the water. Maybe he had been bitten by a snake or a bug while he was out?

Nothing. No marks or bruising of any kind.

Leon stood, deciding to investigate the unknown figure. When he got closer to the corner behind the tent, he could hear something.

Rustling sounds, and what appeared to be someone…crying?

Peering around the corner, Leon raised an eyebrow in surprise. The figure was huddled at the end of the path, hugging their knees. It became clear that this person was indeed crying, sounding unable to stop. He pulled out Ashley's photograph to take a quick look. From what he could see, the crying figure wasn't the subject. Putting the photograph away, slowly and carefully he walked to the person for a closer look.

It was a woman, with a small frame and brown hair. Her face was hidden by her knees. She was dressed in a casual clothing--black shoes, blue jeans, and a green jacket.

Leon extended his hand to the woman. "Hey," he said quietly.

The woman jerked her head up in shock, gasping loudly. Leon now had a clear look of her face--her skin was a light olive, grey eyes, high cheekbones, upturned nose, and thin pink lips.

"You okay?" he asked after a minute.

Eyes red and puffy from crying, the woman was silently looking up at Leon, expression becoming fearful.

"It's okay, Miss," Leon calmly said, holding his hand closer, "Not gonna hurt you."

He felt relieved when she finally reached out, placing her trembling hand into his. Gently helping her stand up, he introduced himself.

"And who might you be?" he asked.

The woman paused for a moment before replying.

"C-Catherine," she stammered. "I'm Catherine Stanley…"

#leon kennedy x oc

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Note

Hii can i request “Daylight” by Maroon5 for hyunjae 🥺🥺

Daylight | Hyunjae (tbz).

Listening to: Daylight by Maroon 5

A/N: the amount I relate to this though TT . TT I hope this was alright! I wasn’t quite sure what kind of scenario to go for with this song but oh well! Thanks for requesting and I hope you like it <3 <3

-----

"Don't leave."

Hyunjae chuckles, though it comes out empty. His grip tightens over your middle as he pulls you close, "you've said that over ten times already."

"But I mean it."

You sit, cuddled into his lap and legs splayed around him, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck with no intention of letting go so soon. Darkness permeates the walls of your room with a bare slither of the moon highlighting the soft strands framing Hyunjae's face. He ressembles an angel, you think to yourself, and justike an angel, he'll be disappearing from your arms the moment the sun rises the next morning.

"Please don't leave."

Your murmur, again bouncing off his collarbone, almost breaks in the process. One of his hands come up to stroke your hair, "I won't."

"Do you mean that?"

Pulling back slightly to gaze at the seriousness on your face, his eyebrow raises slightly in amusement, "don't go mopey on me on my last day."

You huff, "fine then. Just leave."

"Ah you," he bops your nose in affection, "you're hurting me with your words, Y/N."

"Good. Then maybe you won't leave."

Hyunjae can't help the laughter bubbling up from his lips at that, and despite your sourness you can't help but laugh along with him. It's like heaven, wrapped in Hyunjae's embrace like he's never going to let go. You want to believe that this will last forever, that this particular moment will freeze in time just so that you can be selfish for a little while.

But the glowing neon lights from your digital clock placed on your nightstand says otherwise. They're taunting, almost warning you of the time you have left.

3.45.a.m.

"You're going to be okay right? When you get there?" You ask him after a moment of comfortable silence.

He shifts you in his lap, pressing the softest of kisses under your jaw as he replies, "don't worry about me. Eric will pick me up from the airport," that is followed by a scoff, "wants to show off his new car."

"He bought it himself?"

"He says he does. I don't believe him though."

"Oh please," you nudge his arm playfully, "you're just jealous."

"No I'm not," Hyunjae retorts, nudging your side playfully. You duck away, giggling at the frown on his face before your thumb smoothes over the crease.

He softens, impulsively tuggig you close and imprinting a soft peck on your lips, "I'll miss you, you know."

His words are barely above a murmur, but they ring loud and clear through your ears, enough that it makes your eyes burn with the familiar ache of tears,. Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your hold, hugging him close and wishing that you don't have to let go. Not now, not ever.

He hugs you back, one hand stroking soft circles down the small of your back. It makes you shiver and you sigh into his neck, wondering why life seems so unfair.

"I'll miss you too," you finally say in a small voice.

"Four months," his alto brushes against the shell of your ear, "four months. And I'll be back."

Four months seem unbearable. Almost impossible. You've been doing this long distance thing for so long that it tears you apart and stitches you back together god knows how many times. But you hold on, because Hyunjae is a huge blessing in your life. He's a blessing that you now can't life without and you can't imagine living through your day to day without him.

"Hey," his hand slides up the back of your neck to tug you away, eyes finding yours and lips pressing together at the tears glistening at the corners, the downward tug of your mouth, "it'll be okay. We'll be okay. Unless you know, I die because of some stupid shit--"

"Oh shush. You're so dramatic."

"I know. That's why you love me."

Rolling your eyes and unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face, you dip your head back down for another kiss. Hyunjae's lips mold to yours with a familiarity that causes a series of tingles to shoot down your spine. Gasping silently in his mouth, your hands find purchase in his hair while his travel down to your waist, squeezing softly with affection.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips, before kissing your next breath away. You allow him to, neck falling back against his mouth slowly peppering kisses down your neck.

"I love you too," you whisper back, hold him close. Nosing down your collarbone and peppering a rain of kisses over your exposed skin, it takes him a moment to realize that you're crying, sobbing silently as you clasp the back of his head in an iron grip.

"Hey hey hey," his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away at your tears streaming down your face. His own features soften, eyes glistening with wetness before he brings you into a hug, "hey Y/N, it's okay. It'll be okay."

You know it will. You've managed to make it work for the past three years and honestly you should've gotten used to it by now. But the pain is always fresh, like a wound constantly ripping open every time Hyunjae hops onto a plane and disappears from the space he's carved into your bed.

You hate it. You hate it so much you want to rip your hair off until the pain numbs out the one in your heart.

Dawn arrives a little too soon for your liking, and since you've fallen asleep on Hyunjae's chest in the process of crying, your first thought as your eyelids flutter open is that he's gone. Hands shoot out in panic, almost elbowing the said man in the process.

"Oh!" Your head turns to see a sleepy Hyunjae, blearily blinking back at you through a fog of sleep, "oh," and your body instantly relaxes knowing that he's still here.

"Hey," Hyunjae murmurs, nosing your jaw and leaving a small kiss there, "morning."

"Morning," you whisper back. His hair tickles your nose as he kisses your cheek, "what time is your flight?"

"Nine," he sneaks a glance at his phone before a groan rumbles through him, "should probably start getting ready."

He's right and you nod along, ignoring the swell taking place in your chest like a balloon about to burst with all the sadness you've been stowing away. You help him pack the last of his things and make him breakfast; your eggs are a little more carefully made today, ensuring that his toast isn't burnt and that he gets a side of baked beans to fill him up. Qll the while ignoring the blatant reminder of reality that stands by your door in the form of his suitcase.

He doesn't have to ask you whether you're okay; he feels it, spots the permanent wetness in your eyes even as you laugh at his jokes throughout breakfast, notices the tightness of your knuckles aa you hold onto your utensils as though scared your sanity might slip away at any given moment.

And when it is time for him to say his goodbyes, he shrugs on his jacket and opens up his arms. You don't hesitate throw yourself at him, wrapping yourself as tightly as possible while his mouth presses another soft kiss to the outside of your ear.

"Don't cry, okay?" He peppers a line of kisses along your cheekbone. That only makes you hold him even tighter still, burrowing your face into his chest until Hyunjae manages to cup your cheek to tilt your head up, "I mean it, Y/N."

"Then don't go."

"Oh come on," he scoffs and flicks your forehead lightly, which causes you to yelp, "hey! Not cool."

"That's for being too cute," his hands slip down to rest on your forearms, eyes locking on yours, "now don't cry. Or I won't buy you boba anymore."

"That's an empty threat and you know it," you mutter with narrowed eyes.

Chuckling, Hyunjae then brushes away some stray hairs from your forehead before he leans in to peck the said area, "I have to go. I'm cutting it close."

"I know."

You hug him once more. Just one more, your mind chants in desperation. He pulls back after that before his mouth finds yours in a searing hot kiss -- one that is filled with promises and love and pure affection dripping from his lips -- as you stumble against him, right into your front door.

You're practically breathing into each other when he pulls back, foreheads pressed, "I need to go," he rasps out and you nod, heart dropping to your stomach with dread.

He’s right. So you do what your body is screaming at you not to do. You step back and he grabs onto his suitcase, turning back to look at you with eyes just as wet as yours. And for some reason that makes you feel a little bit better.

“Take care,” your hand lifts to cradle his face, going on your tiptoes for one last kiss. He returns it softly, thumb cradling your jaw as he mumbles out, “you too.”

“Text me when you pass through security,” you say, watching him open the door and fighting to keep yourself from crumbling with every step that widens the gap between your two bodies.

“I will,” he sends you a smile that is supposed to be comforting and yet, still makes you wish that you could rewind time.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Y/N. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When the door closes behind him, your knees give out in the ear-numbing, heart-wrenching silence that swallows you whole.

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thesightstoshowyou · 4 years

Text

Ribbon and Lace

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Part 2

Read Part 1 here

Summary: The Collector leaves himself a gift takes his time tearing it open.

Warnings: Dubcon, drugging, bondage, knife play, blood play, biting, lingerie, choking, Stockholm Syndrome

Bored. Bored. Bored.

You stare at the wall of your “cell,” counting the little pinstripes in the hideous brown wallpaper for what feels like the millionth time. You wonder if every kidnapping victim has moments of boredom like this. The entire time you’ve been imprisoned here, you’ve vacillated wildly between monotony and visceral fear the second that door lock clicks. At least you’re not in the trunk anymore.

Just then, the door handle rattles. Speak of the devil.

You’re on your feet in an instant, heart climbing into your throat as the door swings open. Asa strides in, not looking at you, instead retrieving the tray that held your most recent meal. He’s mask-less, as he always is anymore. No point, you suppose.

He steps out of the room, then returns a moment later, fixing you with that cold stare that never fails to send a thrill of fear racing down your spine.

“Come,” he orders, indicating you should follow. You wonder if you should bark, too. Saying nothing, you anxiously grip the hem of the black sweater you still wear and submissively trail behind him.

You don’t look around you, keeping your gaze firmly locked on the back of his boots. There are things through some of these doors you never want to see again as long as you live. You assume he’s taking you for a shower, but realize you’re wrong when Asa abruptly stops at start of a hallway you’ve never been down.

He holds out his arm, beckoning you to him. You hesitate briefly before timidly approaching. Unceremoniously, he scoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style and carefully making his way down the new hall. You understand the caution when Asa eases over a trip wire across the floor. There are traps everywhere; wires connected to all manner of horrible implements designed to swing from the ceiling and impale or crush, others made to break bone and cripple limbs. Where the hell is he taking you?

There’s a door at the end of the hall. Without putting you down, Asa pushes it open with a boot, closing it behind him before finally setting you on your feet. Before you have a chance to look around, he grips your chin, tilting your head up so you’re looking directly in his eyes.

“Do not leave here without me. Do you understand?” You nod. Obviously. He must think you’re an idiot.

Asa releases your chin and busies himself with something on the counter behind him. Looking around, you find yourself in what looks like a hotel suite. There’s a small kitchen, a sitting area, a queen-sized bed, and you’ll guess there’s a bathroom through the little room to the left. Everything is worn, dusty, and peeling like the rest of the rooms in this dilapidated building, but there appears to have been some effort put into making this one livable. You wonder if this is where he stays. Does he live here too?

“Take this.” You’re interrupted from your musings when Asa pushes a pill into your hand. It is small, round, and white. You have no idea what it could be by the markings on the front. Your mouth goes dry and you look up at him pleadingly.

He merely gazes at you expectantly, handing you a bottle of water. You don’t have a choice, of course. You suppose the worst it could do is kill you, which would be a blessing if you’re honest with yourself. He’s never letting you leave any other way.

Taking a deep breath, you place it on your tongue and quickly gulp it down with some water when it begins to dissolve. You pull a face, the chalky, bitter taste sitting thick on your tongue. You wonder how long it will take before it begins to work, whatever it is.

You’re quiet for some time, choosing to search the room to occupy your thoughts instead of thinking too hard about the pill you just swallowed. As you stroll, Asa tinkers with some horrible contraption sitting on the counter. You’re too afraid to look at it closely.

You were right, that room had been a bathroom. Approaching the bed, you run your fingers over the sheets, nearly groaning when you feel how soft they are. You’re so tired of sleeping on that ugly chaise.

“Am I gonna die?” You ask finally, turning to face your captor. He tilts his head, observing you for a moment before speaking.

“Not unless you are allergic to Rohypnol.”

“Rohy—you roofied me?” you exclaim, stomach churning. Why? He’s never had any trouble subduing you before.

“I need you calm,” is his only reply. You open your mouth to respond with something nasty but close it when the room tilts. You blink several times, holding your arm out to steady yourself. Immediately, Asa strides forward to take your hand. You stumble into him, gripping onto his shirt, a giggle bubbling up out of your throat.

“You…roooophhied me,” you slur, eyes drooping as you tilt your head back. Asa must grip you around the waist to keep you from toppling over backward. Unwisely, but unable to stop yourself, you reach up and clumsily brush your fingers over his mouth.

“Yooooou havenn’ kissssed me y—yet,” you mumble, attempting to force your eyes open. The Collector says nothing, instead watching you coolly, mild interest the only expression on his face. “Yo—yooou s-s-should,” you whisper.

Something crosses his face then, some complex emotion that rises to the surface before being beaten back down by Asa’s mask of indifference. You only catch a glimpse before your eyes slip shut, knees buckling. You can’t be sure, but it almost looked like…indecision.

Your head pounds. Your eyes water, eyelids glued shut with dried tears. You try to bring your hand to your face to clear your eyelashes but find your arms are secured behind your back.

With difficulty, you blink, peeling your eyelids apart. The room lurches and you must blink furiously until it rights itself. From your position on the bed, the first thing you notice is the empty counter; that awful contraption, whatever it was, is gone. You’re not sure if this is good news or not.

You crane your neck to look behind you, grunting with the effort, and find you are tied up like a present. You wear lingerie, lacy black that leaves little to the imagination with matching thigh highs. Your arms are folded behind your back and tied with thick, black ribbon. Your legs are bent at the knees, each calf secured to its corresponding thigh with the same fabric as your arms.

When you twist back around, you feel something on your neck, like a choker but thicker, heavier. You can’t see it, can’t bring your hands up to touch it, but it almost feels like leather against your skin. A collar…?

Movement in your peripheral makes you jerk, hair standing on end, heart stuttering in your chest. Asa winds around the bed like a predator, eyes raking over your bound and struggling form. You shiver, the look he gives you instantly heating your blood.

After all this time, he’s conditioned you, taught your body to respond with just a look. You can already feel the slickness between your thighs, your traitorous body aching for what he’s about to dish out. You fucking hate him.

You hate him, but, fuck, do you want him.

Asa seats himself on the edge of the bed and reaches out to trace a gloved finger across the ribbon wrapped around your thigh. He drags his hand up your body and hooks a finger in the collar around your neck, tugging you upright until you’re kneeling and bringing your face inches from his own.

He studies you then, dark eyes tracing your cheekbones, your ear, your nose, before falling to your parted lips. You hold your breath. Is he…?

It’s measured, the way he moves, like every action is planned out in his head. Maybe it is. Gradually, he leans forward, brushing his lips against yours teasingly before pulling away and looking into your half-lidded eyes. Just that tiny bit of contact is enough to send a jolt of need pulsing through your gut.

Asa does it again, leaning forward, stopping just before your lips meet. You feel his warm breath against your trembling lips and it takes all your self-control not to lean forward and crush your mouth into his. You can’t imagine what kind of punishment that would earn you.

He pulls away again and you whine, biting your lip and fidgeting, arms straining against the ribbon digging into your skin. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Prick.

“What do you say?” he asks, thumb tracing across the collar on neck, slipping the digit under the leather to feel your racing pulse.

“Please, Asa,” you whisper, leaning toward him infinitesimally. That must be enough because Asa grips the collar, pulling you in and laying claim to your lips.

He’s teeth, tongue, rough in every sense of the word but you moan into his mouth anyway. You taste copper on your tongue and realize he bit you hard enough to make you bleed. You’re on fire when he pulls away again, goosebumps raising on your skin and lips tingling.

Your blood is smeared across his mouth as if it is lipstick. Asa licks his lips while he pushes his thumb into your mouth. He doesn’t need to tell you to suck on it. You’re well trained, the taste of his nitrile gloves as familiar as food now.

Then, he does something that surprises you. He snaps off his gloves, tossing them onto the bedside table before reaching out to grip you around the waist. You sigh when you feel the warmth of his bare skin against yours. He’s never touched you without gloves before.

Asa pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him. He fists a hand in your hair and tips your head back, latching onto your neck, biting and sucking the skin not covered by the collar until you’re writhing and whimpering in his lap, grinding down against his hard, clothed cock. His free hand grips a handful of your hip, his trimmed nails digging into your flesh hard enough to leave angry, red welts.

You gasp when he tosses you back on the bed, the world tilting suddenly and making your head spin. You freeze, holding your breath when Asa shoves the blade of a knife in your mouth, cold steel clacking against your teeth. You tremble, trying to contain your panicked breaths so you don’t slice your tongue.

“I recommend you don’t move,” he purrs. You see your own blood coating his teeth when he speaks.

You whimper when you feel the fingers of his free hand rub you through your underwear. You can’t control the throaty moan that leaves you when he shoves your underwear to the side and slips two bare digits inside. The feel of his skin in your cunt instead to the artificial nitrile makes it almost impossible not to buck your hips into his hand.

It’s a testament to how well Asa can control that knife when he doesn’t slip and cut you while he’s finger fucking you into oblivion. His palm grinds against your clit, fingers curled within you and rubbing the exact spot he knows will make you scream. He plays your body like a fiddle. He’s experimented, found the most efficient ways to pull you apart, created methods that have you clenching and coming undone within minutes. Mewls and moans spill from your bloody lips, every muscle in your body tensed to keep yourself from writhing and stabbing that damn knife into your gums. He’s not making it easy for you.

He surveys your expression with cool indifference. His eyes betray him, the only hint he’s getting any satisfaction from this. Dark pupils blown wide, they rake over your twitching body, zoning in on every tick and spasm, ruthlessly devouring you until you’re begging around the steel sitting on your tongue.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, spilling down into your hair after you’ve cum on his fingers for the second time. Finally, blessedly, he pulls the blade from your mouth and you let your aching jaw snap shut. You wiggle in your restraints, your arms and legs pricking with pins and needles.

Asa unbuttons his slacks, freeing his engorged cock before pressing your knees to your chest, spreading your legs wide. Pushing your panties to the side again, he lines himself up and slams his hips forward, thick cock abruptly parting slick muscles. You should be expecting it by now, but he still always manages to take your breath away.

A moan from above startles you. He’s usually so quiet, only uttering a few grunts here and there. You glance up to find him curled over you, forehead nearly touching yours and…trembling. You almost didn’t think it was possible for him to feel anything other than minor annoyance.

You have no idea what you’re thinking when you lift your head and press your lips to his again. He looks almost vulnerable; just so completely out of character you can’t help yourself. It’s a mistake. Asa’s hand darts up, gripping you around the neck and shoving you back down into the mattress. His other hand joins the first and he squeezes, cutting off your air supply as he starts up a brutal pace.

Your chest burns, lungs struggling and failing to pull in air as Asa’s hips slap relentlessly forward. He stares at you icily, apathetically watching your face go from red to purple. You’re torn between fear and euphoria, lust coiling in the pit of your stomach while your lips open and close uselessly like a fish out of water. Darkness creeps in the edges of your vision, tears pouring from your eyes and further obscuring your sight.

Asa relents a few seconds before unconsciousness claims you and you gasp, inhaling deeply before coughing and spluttering. “I-I’m s-sorry,” you stammer as soon as you have enough air in your lungs to speak. A cry leaves your lips a moment later when he tilts his hips and hammers that glorious, sensitive spot deep within you with mechanical precision.

“Asa, Asa, please, please, please, I, I-” You can’t finish your sentence, words losing meaning and dying on your tongue as you hold poised, tense, ready to crash into bliss, if only he’ll let you…. He says nothing, letting you teeter on the edge until you’re sobbing his name over and over like it’ll save you.

“Do it,” he growls into your ear and you scream, back arching as blinding pleasure wracks your overheated body. You barely register the strangled “F-fuck,” above you when Asa joins you a moment later, pumping you full of sticky warmth.

Your chest heaves, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, arms and legs screaming to be untied. You whimper, wiggling your toes and tensing your arms, trying to work any amount of feeling back into your limbs. Asa shudders, resting his head on your shoulder so he can calm his own haggard breaths.

Still panting, he pushes up to his knees before slipping the knife under the ribbon tying your legs, sawing through the fabric. You groan in relief, letting your legs flop onto the mattress, flexing and twisting your ankles. Asa abruptly flips you onto your stomach to reach your bound arms. He leaves the collar around your neck.

You inspect the red grooves in your skin left behind by the ribbon as Asa slips off the bed and into the bathroom, presumably to clean up. You wonder if he’ll take you back to your little chaise now. You’ll be sad to leave the bed.

Asa strides out of the bathroom, not sparing you a second glance before he’s crossing the room and leaving, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. You wait, passing the time by massaging your tender neck you’re sure is already sporting bruises. Ten minutes pass. Nothing. He’s leaving you here?

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you crawl under the blankets, adjusting your aching limbs until you find a position that suits you. It doesn’t take long before your eyes are drooping, fatigue and roofie hangover pulling you into a deep slumber.

You have no idea how much time has passed when you hear the door click open again. You jerk out of a dream, hastily sitting upright and rubbing your bleary eyes. You look toward the door, fully expecting to see Asa’s icy stare.

What you see instead makes all the color drain from your face, a horrified scream erupting from your throat.

#asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector (2009)#the collector x reader #the collection #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #my writing #dubcon #blood #drugging #n sfw #stockholm syndrome #cliffhanger anyone?

379 notes · View notes

tiifalockhart · 3 years

Text

Freckles

Pairing: Zack x Sephiroth

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is for a dear friend of mine’s birthday <3 Happy birthday Ana, I hope you like your gift!! Inspired by her obsession with Sephiroth’s tiny freckles in AC <3

Masterlist || Ao3

A secret that Sephiroth somehow managed to unintentionally hide was the fact that he had freckles.

The moment Zack realized it, it was like he fell in love all over again.

It wasn’t an easy task to get close to Sephiroth, both emotionally and physically. Sometimes, it felt like you were speaking to a brick wall whenever you came into contact with him. He was formal and polite... That was about the best most strangers could describe him as. Sephiroth didn’t really open up to anyone, and anyone who wanted to try had to work very hard for it. There were very few people he naturally bonded with... One of those people being the “puppy” of SOLDIER.

Realistically, Zack was the only one close even to get a good look at Sephiroth’s facial features. The silver haired SOLDIER rarely let someone get close to him, even if they dared to. Most people were simply too intimidated to look him in the eye.

Zack knew Sephiroth’s face like the back of his hand (mostly from the many hours he’s spent admiring and kissing it). He knew the way his cat-like pupils reacted to the lighting of the room, the way his face would get a pink tint whenever Zack said something mildly inappropriate. He knew the way Sephiroth would apply his mascara to hide his white eyelashes or the slight pout that would form on Sephiroth’s lips whenever Zack would take too long to join him in bed. Zack even knew the curves and strong features of Sephiroth’s face, his fingers trailing along with his cheek and jaw bones seemingly unendingly. The most enchanting part of Sephiroth’s facial features would be his tiny freckles that decorated the top of his cheekbones and nose.

Sephiroth’s freckles are an easy feature to miss. No one knows where they came from, especially since none of Sephiroth’s supposed fathers or mothers had freckles. Perhaps it was from the sun from his many missions, but the rest of him never seemed to adopt this same tan (imagine the tan lines, though). It was a mystery for sure, but Zack hardly gave a damn about where they came from.

The puppy’s favorite pass time quickly became kissing or counting Sephiroth’s freckles. Zack would squint and attempt to count them from across the room as if it was some kind of a game. Lazard definitely wasn’t seeing things when he saw Sephiroth’s cheeks turn slightly rosy from Zack’s gaze during a meeting one day.

Every other day, Zack would happily hold Sephiroth against his chest and recount his freckles, especially during their slow days. Zack continued to make ridiculous claims that Sephiroth had somehow developed yet another freckle. Most conversations went about the same.

“Forty-five.... Forty-six.... Forty-seven.... Oh?....” Zack counted off as he examined Sephiroth’s face. The silver haired male was currently napping beneath him, lulled to sleep by Zack’s hand running through his hair. He nearly jumped out of his skin at Zack’s loud and dramatic gasp. “You have another one!! Forty-eight freckles!” He cheered.

Sephiroth’s frown quickly turned into a pout as he sat up, removing himself from Zack’s lap. “You’ve interrupted my nap... Again.” He muttered, a sigh of defeat leaving his lips. “And I don’t have another freckle.” The SOLDIER added, moving over to the coffee machine and preparing for the evening.

“You definitely have a new freckle.” Zack insisted, a proud smirk on his lips as he admired his boyfriend from afar. Sephiroth couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. He knew better than to deny Zack, considering that Sephiroth never actually developed more freckles. Zack, frankly, was just terrible at counting them and would recount the same few freckles over and over again.

...And Sephiroth had a lot more than just forty-eight freckles.

After a quick glance in the reflection of the metal in their microwave, Sephiroth let out a satisfactory hum. “It seems that I do.” He agreed formally, his straight face breaking as soon as Zack’s arms wrapped around him again.

“Told ya.” Zack purred, that same proud grin decorating his lips. Sephiroth’s cheeks heated up at the touch, causing him to stubbornly look away.

“Don’t stare at me like you did the other day again during our meetings. Lazard asked me about the other day... I had to come up with a weird excuse.” He explained, handing Zack his overly-sweetened coffee before making his own bland and bitter black coffee.

“Weird excuse?” Zack asked, pulling away and not really bothering to hide the smirk. “What did you manage to come up with? It’s not every day someone sees the hero himself blush.” He teased, replacing the ever-growing smirk with his coffee mug.

“I... Do not wish to talk about it.” Sephiroth replied, looking away as he sulked. The images of Lazard’s disapproving gaze slowly changing into a knowing smirk will haunt Sephiroth forever. Zack could only let out a hushed chuckle as he shrugged it off.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, big guy.” He answered, reaching up to ruffle Sephiroth’s hair. The first class SOLDIER glared at Zack, an obvious gleam of playfulness in his eyes.

Sephiroth ran his fingers through his hair, fixing the mess that Zack had made as he examined the younger. “It seems you wish to run more laps today, Zack.” Sephiroth quipped, causing the younger to raise his brows in surprise.

“Hey, who told you that you could go all ‘Big Boss-man’ on me?” He complained. Apparently, it was Zack’s turn to pout as Sephiroth moved on from the kitchen, heading towards his bedroom to change.

“I did. I hope you’ll be dressed before me... The track is looking quite lonely today otherwise.” Sephiroth continued, a smug glint in his eyes as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Naturally, the two of them ended right back in the same spot later that night. Zack was cradling a sleepy Sephiroth, his fingers threading through his silver hair. Sephiroth wasn't much of a cuddler, especially with people who happen to be younger than him. Zack was very.... Proud, to say the least. It isn't just anyone who can make the top SOLDIER melt under their touch. Not even Genesis or Angeal had the same experience as Zack did. Zack definitely took this as a blessing and an ego booster.

As much as Sephiroth dreaded it, he would occasionally feel the gentle brush of Zack’s free hand against his cheek as he once again counted the freckles on his face. Eventually, Zack will move on, Sephiroth thought. He will soon.... Right?

Sephiroth ended up being very wrong. How was he supposed to reject those heart-wrenching and cursed puppy eyes? Eventually, the counting exceeded past just counting. It grew from simple admiration to kissing. Sephiroth’s face would always end up with a slight pink tint by the time Zack moved on from decorating each of his freckles with two kisses each.

This obsession also resulted in... Weird nicknames. Sephiroth, admittedly, wasn’t quite sure how he felt about most of them. They ranged from pretty normal names to something he would name a dog. For example, “Speckles” was certainly somewhere in that grey area. Over time, Sephiroth found himself growing more and more used to these... “Nicknames,” even responding to those that sound absolutely ridiculous.

Any time Sephiroth would come home to Zack, a bright grin was always present on the younger’s face. It made his heart swell... The thought of someone caring about him enough to be excited to see him every waking moment. “Good evening, Zack.” Sephiroth greeted somewhat formally, still adjusting to the whole ‘boyfriend’ concept.

Zack looked up at his lover. “Evening, cupcake with sprinkles.” He chimed, catching Sephiroth off guard. The silver haired male stopped in his tracks, slowly turning towards the other.

“...What did you just call me?” He questioned, a confused and slightly bewildered look in his eyes. Sephiroth swore he had misheard Zack.

Zack laughed quietly and pushed himself off the couch, giving Sephiroth his greeting kiss. “Cupcake with sprinkles?” He replied, the statement sounding much like a question. “No good?” Zack asked, grinning at the older SOLDIER.

Sephiroth, attempting to suppress the red color on his face, looked away. “It’s quite... Unique.” He answered, attempting to salvage Zack’s feelings. “However, you have come up with better in the past.” He continued, pulling away and stepping into his bedroom, beginning to change.

Zack leaned against the door frame and raised a brow, crossing his arms as the smallest smirk formed on his lips. “Oh yeah? Like what?” He hummed, a somewhat teasing tone to his voice. Sephiroth’s mind began to swarm with the many, many terrible names Zack managed to come up with. Don’t get him wrong, he found it quite endearing... But at the same time, it was just downright weird stuff sometimes.

A stifled cough left Sephiroth’s lips as he searched for an answer, before sighing in defeat. “...I thought freakles was quite unique and amusing.” He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck as he slid past Zack.

Zack’s eyes lit up with admiration and interest, he obviously wasn’t expecting that answer. “You liked freakles? Out of every other nickname I’ve ever come up with?” He questioned, a hint of surprise in his voice. Sephiroth sighed in defeat as he grabbed some leftover food out of the fridge.

“It is certainly better than ‘cupcake with sprinkles.’ I am not a cupcake, Zack.” Sephiroth explained, attempting to bite back the smile that was fighting its way to his lips. “Freakles was... Witty. I liked it.” He explained, crossing his arms as he turned towards Zack.

Zack raised a brow and nodded lightly. “Who knew you liked dad jokes so much?” He retorted playfully, winking at the older. Sephiroth scoff as he watched his food spin in the microwave.

“I only like them because you never stop telling them.” He pointed out, raising a brow. “You’re worse than Angeal’s old jokebooks.” The first class SOLDIER teased.

Zack pouted up at his boyfriend, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I think you meant better?” He argued playfully, his voice holding an astronomical amount of sass. Sephiroth merely rolled his eyes and grabbed their food, placing it on two plates for them both.

Eventually, this obsession Zack had developed moved onto simple admiration. Zack constantly had eyes full of love for Sephiroth. It was absolutely adorable to some (like Angeal), and really gross to others (like Genesis). The puppy would get in the same pose every time, his chin would rest on his right palm, his lips would curl into a pleasant smile and his gaze would hold love in it, as if he were falling in love with Sephiroth all over again. There was a point in time where Zack was no longer afraid of people finding out about their relationship. Hell, what is there to be afraid of?

Sephiroth could always feel Zack’s gaze on him, but it didn’t bother him. He had grown used to his unreserved displays of love. PDA had never been something that Sephiroth was fond of, but he would let Zack get away with a lot of it. Most of the time, Zack would pepper kisses along his freckles. Other times, Zack would simply hold his hand, looking like he was the proudest SOLDIER out there. Sephiroth... Admired Zack for his explicit nature when it came to love, he personally could never imagine being so open with the public in such a way. In some weird manner, this open display Zack constantly put on was some version of security for Sephiroth. Surely this meant that they were in it for the long run? Sephiroth wasn’t going to complain, he loved Zack and wanted him to know it at all times as well.

So, from the moment they started being more open about their relationship, there was hardly ever a moment in time where Sephiroth felt lonely and unloved. Zack was always by his side, giving him words of encouragement and kissing each of his freckles. Sephiroth couldn’t ask for anything better at this point. He felt safe knowing that he won’t ever lose Zack.

...And that his crazy nicknames finally stopped.

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leapyearkisses · 3 years

Text

Nice Work If You Can Get It - (m/m) Eliseo/Padgett

So after a year of abject depression, I’ve decided I still like my writing so I’m reuploading it. For the time being, requests are not on the table. I have definitely flaked out on some people and I’m really sorry for that. :( Hopefully if people still want to read what’s already done though, this will be okay.

NSFW, MESS, CONTAGION - Eliseo has hired Padgett to get him sick.

___

"All right... close your eyes." Eliseo swallowed and did so, blocking out his bedroom, the red-gold sunset light pouring in from the windows, and Padgett, who was straddling his hips. He could still hear, quite easily, the other man's labored breathing and feel the heat of his thighs... and his crotch. Eliseo was under no illusion that he was in an incredibly compromising position at the moment. He hadn't thought much about the.. particulars when he'd first decided to strike this deal. "Are we really doing this?" he asked, voice weak.

Padgett laughed, voice tumbled and edging on hoarse. "Hey now. Not getting cold feet are we, my lord?" His exhale ghosted over Eliseo's forehead and his tousled black hair touched Eliseo's cheek. Eliseo cleared his throat. "No..." He could imagine the other man's smug look. They'd known each other long enough now that the image rose unbidden to his mind's eye. Padgett's eyes always glittered like opals when he was scheming something. The man surprised him with a tender touch on the shoulder, and Eliseo almost opened his eyes again. "The safe word is 'pumpernickel,'" Padgett said, managing not to chuckle. "We can stop whenever you want... Hhk-" He fought off a gasp. "Decide hh quickly, though." Eliseo shivered. "I'm okay. Let's do it." He didn't want to admit it, but Padgett's reassurance did put him at ease, even if this had been his idea to begin with. He relaxed and tried to lose himself in the late afternoon heat. "Yehh-s, my lord." Padgett leaned forward and took a shaky breath. It stuttered and caught on invisible hooks, sounding at once to be full of potential and then gone again, like a ghost vanishing at the window. Eliseo could feel his body tightening again with anticipation, especially when Padgett gasped and leaned back. "Hh-... hah-- "Huh-ktschht!" A warm rush of air burst in Eliseo's face, almost immediately followed by a watery spray over his forehead, closed eyes, and nose. His instant reaction was to curl back, or try to, and he had his hands braced on Padgett's chest before he could think about it. "Hey now," said Padgett, delayed by a sniffle. His tone was light. "Easy. You specified this in the contract, remember?" He rested his hands lightly on Eliseo's wrists. "How are you feeling about it?" Eliseo found he was holding his breath, but-- Well, that would defeat the purpose of this exercise. He cautiously let it go and then opened his eyes. Padgett was gazing down at him, looking neither smug nor concerned, just curious. "I- this was on instinct," Eliseo murmured. After a beat, he lowered his hands, and Padgett let him go easily. "Yes, I imagine so. It's natural." Padgett smiled then, and then his expression crinkled. "Wh- hh- want to do it again? Hkt-- hhh..." Eliseo forced himself to surrender again to his pillows. "Yes." Again, he closed his eyes. Padgett shifted forward on his lap and oh- but then he was sneezing once more. "Huh- hktsschit!" Again, the spray. This time it dusted over Eliseo's nose and mouth. He fought to keep from thinning his lips and... took a deeper breath. Padgett hadn't moved, was still fighting with his own lungs, reeling in another insistent sneeze like a stubborn trout. "Huh- hh... hh hh huh-" He made an annoyed sound. "Hah-- hah-krttschtts!" Eliseo felt droplets of saliva decorate his cheekbone. Padgett sniffled thickly. "...Bless you," Eliseo murmured. He was feeling hot. Maybe it was Padgett on top of him. The man was running a fever. "You are... doing the job admirably." That earned him a laugh. Padgett shifted his weight to his heels, which did interesting things to his cock's relation to Eliseo's own. "Thanks, I guess? I never would have thought anyone would be hiring for this, much less you." "Circumstances are dire," Eliseo intoned without a hint of irony. "Mmhm." Padgett sniffled again. "You must really hate weddings. Couldn't you have just gone on a hunt or something this weekend instead?" Eliseo sighed. "No. My sister would do anything to ruin my plans if I tried to avoid the party any normal way. But luckily, she's terrified of germs. I think a miserable head cold will be the ticket." Like hell he wanted to sit through another of his sister's weddings. Every time it was some new, world-changing drama. He wasn't even sure whether the groom this time was noble born. No doubt the reception gossip would be scathing. What absolute drivel. "Lucky also that you have me around, hm?" Padgett's next chuckle turned into a bit of a cough. Eliseo patted his knee awkwardly. "I- well, yes. Very. But believe me when I say that I would not wish for you to be so stricken if I had the power to stop it." "Of course, my lord." Padgett rubbed his nose. And though his breath hitched a few times in the following moments, he stayed where he was. Eliseo blinked. "Are we...?" Done? He didn't really think the exposure had been long enough. "I am ready." Padgett blushed a little. Blushed? "Sorry," he said. "I can kind of feel that, uh, the uh, next ones are going to be kind of... wet. I could blow my nose." His voice trailed off, wavering again. His nostrils twitched, and Eliseo did see within the promise of moisture. Perhaps it was the taboo of it, but Eliseo was alerted instantly to a sudden thickening of his cock. It pressed at his trousers with some gusto as Padgett sniffled again. Eliseo swallowed. "No. No, this is good. This will... help." Padgett gave him a considering look, at least as well as he could between soft gasps and squinting against the itch in his nose. "If you're sure, my lord." "Just- call me Eli, like you used to," said Eliseo, stumbling over the words. He wasn't sure where they had come from, but now they were bare between them. Still, perhaps a bit of affection wasn't so odd compared to what they were already doing. Eliseo closed his eyes on Padgett's startled look. "Eli," Padgett said, and he sounded like he'd just come home from a long war to find the hearth kept warm for him. "I will." He leaned forward again, bracing himself. "Now, I'm going to- to hih-- to snhhsneeze, hah- haktschtsch! Hrh- Hnkgstschhiu! More spray this time, more wetness, and Eliseo gasped himself when he felt a thick drip against his chin. Padgett hadn't moved. When Eliseo tentatively looked up, he saw his friend caught in a limbo of urgency. His green eyes were shut, eyelashes fluttering. His nostrils, gently pink now, flared. A clear trail hung from one of them, quivering as Padgett panted. He looked wild and fever bright and teetering on a precipice. Eliseo ignored what it might mean that Padgett's desperate expression, his wet nose - even the mess - suddenly went to his cock. He was hard, looking up at a portrait of a sneeze. Carefully, he placed a hand on Padgett's thigh. "It's okay," he said, words coming of their own accord. "I've got you." Padgett's fingers tightened fitfully in the sheet as he shifted his weight again. He was making soft, irritated noises. His nostrils flared and Eliseo saw another drip lying in wait on the cusp. When the urge became too much, it was like watching a wave finally crash down. Padgett's breath caught; he tensed and leaned back. Eliseo hurriedly closed his eyes again, and none too soon. "Hhhhrektschuckh!" He felt the mess streak his face, fly to spatter his mouth and nose and chin. Padgett moaned and then gasped again, chest swelling with air. "Hah- Huhrttschuh! Hshtt! Hah- hsshtt!" Again, he teetered, teasing the air with shivering gasps. Then, he abruptly folded with a crush of vowels and congestion. "Hggtschiucht!" A baptism, pondered Eliseo's brain as it detached from reality momentarily. Pinned as he was to the bed by Padgett's sex, he couldn't move when he felt himself coming just as abruptly as the sneeze. Somehow the slick wash had become a mounting sense of urgency in each of his muscles, racing from his fingertips and toes to his abdomen, where, quite unbidden, his cock had tugged all that energy into a gut-wrenching orgasm that sent the shockwaves back out with renewed vigor. Padgett whined, and Eliseo took him firmly by the shoulders and drew him in for a messy, off-putting, contagious, blindingly good kiss. "Wow," said Padgett, when they finally broke for air. "Don't ask me why," Eliseo muttered, but he refused to be made a fool of by embarrassment. "C- come here." He shifted to sit up further and put his hands on Padgett's hips. "I want-" He wanted. "This. Yes?" Before he could stop himself, he swept his tongue over Padgett's mouth, under his nose, to rest at the edge of a nostril. He tasted salt. It was not entirely pleasant, but whatever pilot was captaining his body right now didn't care. He could still feel his cock pulsing against his trousers. Padgett moaned. "It feels... odd. But, my lord, you can do what you- I mean, Eli." He was breathless for different reasons now. Eliseo laved the tender skin above Padgett's lips, then licked up his septum. When Padgett shivered, Eliseo kissed him again. Slowly, he cleaned away the mess from Padgett's face. When he was finished, neither of them knew what to say. Eliseo was hard again. Finally, Padgett laughed shyly. "I think you'll be catching your cold, Eli." Eliseo blushed and shrugged. "I should hope so. I am-" He bit his lip. "I'm not ready to stop. Will you stay the night? I'll look after you." Padgett kissed him, tenderly drawing them together. "I would like that, very much."

#lyk writes #eliseo jorvald #padgett foxborough #elipadge #snz

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jaggedlittleteacup · 3 years

Note

Ineffable Husbands hurt/comfort for the writing requests thing please?🥺👉👈

Something Quite Unlike Most

Anthony J. Crowley liked to pretend that he didn’t care. He was awfully fond of acting indifferent and cold to other demons of Hell, and even occasionally to his friend*, Aziraphale. Demons like him, well…they didn’t actually exist. He wasn’t really a demon* at all, to be entirely honest.

He wasn’t sure what he was.

But he knew damn well that he was kidding himself if he thought he couldn’t care less about Aziraphale.

Especially once he received a very urgent phone call from the angel himself.

His phone rang once. Crowley didn’t pick up.

His phone rang again. Crowley glanced at it once or twice and didn’t pick up.

“I’m not going to pick up,” said Crowley as he picked up the phone upon hearing the third ring. Muttering a few colourful curses, he placed the receiver to his ear. “Yes, hullo, Angel, how are you?”

Aziraphale breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Crowley? Oh, hello, dear! Er- well, I’d be doing well, but I’m in a bit of a pickle.” He chuckled nervously and yelped. “Well, you see…”

“What the dev- Er- God? What have you done, Angel?” He tried to hide the urgency in his voice as he tapped his fingers against his desk, but his concern* was clear.

“I may have…er…well, don’t laugh at me, Crowley!” Aziraphale demanded with a slight whimper.

“I won’t bloody laugh, just tell me what’s wrong!” Crowley demanded.

“Someone gave me an old book,” Aziraphale confessed. “He was a really, really lovely gentleman. He was very tall with rather wavy ginger hair and had very odd eyes and cheekbones.”

“What?” Crowley asked in a mix of astonishment and blatant horror.

“Oh, yes! I was quite fond of his eyes, multi-coloured. Looked like the stars!” Aziraphale smiled pleasantly while simultaneously wincing in pain. “Said his name was Ben*.”

“Ngk,” said Crowley.

“Something wrong, dear?” Aziraphale asked in classic angel fashion (even whilst being in pain).

Crowley sputtered out a string of nonsense in an panicked attempt to tell Aziraphale to throw the book into the Pacific Ocean. “Tha- that wasn’t some kind bloke, Angel. What was the book called?” He was seconds away from bolting out the door.

Aziraphale sounded sheepish. “Well, it had a different cover at first. I thought it was a first edition copy of Huckleberry Finn, can you imagine that? Then when I opened it up, the first page said ‘The Lesser Key of Solomon*. Bless me, I’ve- ow!- no idea what that means.”

“It means that an undesirable just- oh, bloody- oh, b-bloody, good G- Satan. Shit!” Crowley knew exactly who he was talking about, especially when he mentioned his former boss*. “Angel, I’m coming over right now!”

“Oh, take your time!” Aziraphale said kindly, before letting out a dainty “fuck” as a result of the excruciating pain he was in. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Goodbye, Crowley!”

And then he hung up.

“Damn it, Angel!” Crowley hissed as he sprinted out of his flat and to his beloved black Bentley. He knew he only had a few minutes before Aziraphale* burst into flames or- worse! Something much worse!

Not realising he didn’t have his keys, Crowley accidentally willed the car to start and started driving like a man possessed. The other cars on the road parted in waves as he slammed down the accelerator and sped to Aziraphale’s bookstore*.

On its own, the car’s radio dial spun around and landed on a station that was blasting ‘The Show Must Go On’. Crowley glanced at it in surprise and adjusted his sunglasses, still not slowing down.

Inside, my heart is aching…

He spun around a corner and nearly hit a jaywalking pedestrian.

My makeup may be flaking, but my smile…

Crowley swallowed a lump forming in his throat, heart racing.

…still stays o-O-NnN- Nearly there, Crowley!

He flinched as the familiar voice of his ex-employer crept over him. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

Oh, don’t fret, darling. I’m sure he’ll be just fine.

“What do you want?” Crowley demanded, his voice shaking. “He didn’t bloody do a thing!”

But you did, didn’t you? You betrayed me, Crowley. What ever happened to our side?

“There was never any ‘our side’,” he spat. “You wanted to- to destroy the world!” Crowley scowled and tried to turn off the radio, but it sent an electrical shock coursing through his fingertips. “Shit! Shit!”

Don’t be so foolish, darling. Shame about that human, though. If Aziraphale dies, well…hahahahaha…

“Shut up!” Crowley roared, and just like that, the radio clicked off.

Silence filled the car as tyres screeched and the Bentley arrived at the bookshop.

“Angel?!” Crowley shouted as he slammed his car door shut and rushed inside.

The bell tinkled and Aziraphale looked up. “Oh- ow!- C-Crowley, hello, dear!” he said weakly. He was slumped against a bookshelf, his wings visible and extended for some reason. His pleasant smile hid an obvious truth.

He was dying.

Crowley’s gaze, frozen with fear, landed on his friend’s wings with horror. They were turning black with some sort of secreted oily goo and the feathers were falling off, and Aziraphale was pale. Paler than usual. Circles were dark under his unusually dull eyes, and trickles of blood were making their way down his lips.

“How do I fix this?” Crowley said in despair. “How? D-do- do I- I…Miracle. I can do a miracle, can’t I, Angel?”

Aziraphale lifted his head and met Crowley’s terrified eyes. “Dear, listen, I’ve…I’ve tried it. Didn’t work, I’m- I’m afraid.” He let out a little chuckle. “Foolish of me to check. Should never have- well…sit with me, dear. For a bit.”

Crowley nodded and gingerly sat by Aziraphale. “Angel, there…must be some-something. Anything at all, I’ll do. Please.”

“It’s all right, Crowley,” Aziraphale reassured him, before coughing loudly and dabbing a bit of blood away with a handkerchief. “We could have run away together, you know? You wanted to.”

“Alpha Centurion,” Crowley murmured. “There’s nothing?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale whispered. “Take my hand, dear. Only for a while?”

Crowley nodded again and intertwined his fingers around Aziraphale’s own. “I…I…Please, Angel. Don’t leave me.”

“We’ve had six thousand years, Crowley. Isn’t that enough?” Aziraphale tried to smile, but he grimaced instead. “I’m…sorry.”

“No,” Crowley said. “It’ll never be enough. I…I love you, Angel. For six thousand bloody years, and now I’m going to lose you because of- of- fucking Satan!” Tears dripped down his sharp nose and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Angel?”

Aziraphale did not respond.

“A-Angel?” Crowley mumbled, sniffing and pushing his shoulder. “Angel, please…”

The ‘please’ didn’t work.

Crowley swallowed and stood up. He took a shuddering breath and staggered to Aziraphale’s desk.

“DAMN IT!” he shouted, but it didn’t feel like enough. “DAMN IT! DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN- SHIT!” Crowley picked up the cursed book and threw it across the room. “WHY HIM? WHY- WHY HIM? FOR GOD’S- FUCKING! HELL!”

He didn’t notice, but he was radiating a power that hadn’t been seen in centuries as he sank to his knees in despair. His wings sprouted painfully from his back, black as night, as he struck the floor with his fists in anguish.

“AZIRAPHALE!” Crowley screamed* with such vigour that the bookstore shook, the lights of London flickered, and the ground trembled. “GOD!” He pounded the ground and cried out for someone, anyone, to hear him. The Powers that Be had decided to be especially cruel that day, leaving him to ponder why they had chosen Aziraphale- his* angel.

Crowley, for the first time in his entire existence, sobbed. All at once, his anger went away, and all that was left was a crushing sadness that left him slumped against a pile of books in unwavering agony. His soul was shattered and his mind was empty, an awful combination for a heartsick demon-but-only-just.

He was silent for a long time. The only sounds in the bookshop were the occasional shuddering sob, and even that steadily dissipated until the world finally quieted down.

A hand lay on Crowley’s shoulder.

He looked up.

“Do you love him?” an elderly woman asked.

Crowley blinked and nodded, trembling.

The woman smiled. “I suppose it is possible, then. For a demon to love an angel. For one to change one’s plan. One’s destiny.” She tilted Crowley’s chin up with delicate fingertips. “I ask you again, Anthony J. Crowley. Do you love Aziraphale?”

“Yes,” Crowley whispered, and his heart ached because he meant it, really and truly meant it.

“Well,” the woman whispered, her fingers beginning to glow golden, “it is decided. Your angel must be returned to you. It is not his time. And you have proven yourself worthy, Crowley. May you forever keep my trust.” She turned towards the fallen angel (the truly Fallen one) and waved her hand over his pale forehead.

A light bathed over Aziraphale, and his wings fluttered and straightened themselves, the colour returning to a radiant white. The blood vanished from his lips and his eyes grew bright. Then, slowly, carefully, his chest rose and fell with the effort of taking easy breaths.

Crowley couldn’t help but stare in astonishment. “Thank you,” he murmured, unsure of what else to say. “Can I ask, er…” He rubbed his forehead and crept to Aziraphale’s side. “Who- what are you, exactly?”

The woman laughed softly. “I’m ineffable,” she said gracefully, and her form flickered and dematerialised from the bookshop, leaving Crowley to wonder if he’d just witnessed a true and genuine, bonafide Miracle.

Aziraphale’s eyes slowly opened and gazed adoringly at Crowley. “Hello, dear,” he whispered, his cheeks rosy and healthy. “I must apologise for leaving you, if only for a moment.” He smiled sheepishly.

“You bloody bastard,” Crowley sniffed as he pulled Aziraphale to his chest and held him tightly. “I thought I’d lost you. For good.”

“I never want to leave you, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied. “Not for another thousand years, at least. You still owe me crapes, don’t you? Can’t possibly go without trying those.”

Crowley chuckled as his eyes burned. “As many crapes as you can eat, Angel.”

“You really are quite nice. The nicest demon I’ve ever met.”

“I dunno. I dunno if I’m a demon anymore.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled. “Then what?”

“I’m yours,” Crowley said, and took Aziraphale’s hand in his to lead him out of the bookstore.

In the end, they were all right.

It really was ineffable.

༺═──────────────═༻

*friend, meaning the Olde English and Germanic ancestor of the word ‘frēon’, which in turn originally meant ‘one who loves’.

*the demon I refer to, of course, is based on the Greek word ‘daimon’, which is defined as a ‘divine power, fat, or god’. Crowley was neither. The real translation means ‘replete with wisdom’. Crowley didn’t have that, either.

*this marked the sixth time Crowley had ever been concerned in his life. They all, of course, had been concerning Aziraphale in some way, shape, or form.

*if this sounds familiar, then it should.

*another name is ‘Salomon is Regis’. It’s a cursed grimoire of demonology. Demons fear its power.

*Satan couldn’t outright kill an angel, but he could trick an angel into killing himself. He was quite fond of stealing faces of popular celebrities to do this. Aziraphale, being Aziraphale, didn’t recognise him.

*the curse was so horrific that Aziraphale could not miracle himself free.

*he had the location memorised to demonstrate how little he cared for Aziraphale.

*it is said his grief was so great that it shook the Heavens.

*Crowley never truly wanted anything more in his entire life.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #amazon prime original #fanfiction #request #fic request #anthony j. crowley #a. z. fell #miracles #Ángels #demons #god #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #happy ending

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fallout4reactsblog · 3 years

Note

if nick's that pissed at piper i don't imagine he'd be super happy with hancock either, though i'm less clear on what his and hancock's canon relationship was to start with

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kid, we can’t keep doing this. This isn’t Diamond City. It isn’t safe.”

“I’m a big kid, Nick.” They stick their tongue out at him, but their eyes betray their sadness. “I can fend for myself out here. Besides, Goodneighbor’s smaller than Diamond City. KLEO’s basically right next to the door. But, if it makes you feel any better, I promise to yell for you at the first sign of trouble.”

“I reckon I’ll take it. Say, though, isn’t KLEO a robot of some kind?”

“Assaultron, yeah.”

His eyes must betray his intent because they shake their head. “Don’t even think about it. You are not going to use KLEO as leverage to get Hancock to let me back in. He’s said his piece, Nick. The verdict is clear.”

“Clearly wrong,” he grumbles. But, he takes the list and pushes open the door, offering them a quick wave before he steps inside.

Goodneighbor is exactly how he remembers it. Same shops, same smells, same residents milling around. He can see why Ellie left this place behind. If he had his way, he wouldn’t even be here. John’s sort of getting the best of both worlds; sole can’t come in, but their caps are still getting spent.

“Hi, KLEO.” He says, stepping up to the counter. John’s nowhere in sight, and maybe that’s a good thing.

“Everything here is guaranteed to injure, maim, or kill at your discretion. Except me. I only kill when I want to.”

He resists the urge to ask if she’d want to put a certain mayor out of his misery. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got.”

He’s right in the middle of calculating how much sole’s ammo is going to cost when he hears footsteps behind him. Quietly, he prays they’re Deacon’s. He’s been known to hang around here in disguise, after all.

Someone slings an arm around his shoulder and says, “Well, if it ain’t Nick Valentine. How ya been?”

He resists the violent urge that makes his fingers twitch- sole had made him promise to stop hitting people on their behalf- and brushes Hancock’s arm off his shoulder instead. “Was better before I saw you.”

“I’m hurt.” Hancock leans against the counter. “You’re in my town. How could you come to my town and not want to see me?”

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have come at all.” He slides the caps across the counter to KLEO. “But I don’t call the shots.”

“Now, what do you mean by that? Unless...” he chuckles, but his eyes narrow. “Nick. Don’t tell me you brought that thing into my town.”

The word “thing” echoes in Nick’s head, and he tries to drown it out by reminding himself that sole would not want him shooting Hancock in the knee. “That ‘thing’ is more human than I am.”

Hancock begins twirling his knife idly. “C’mon, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re the real deal, Nick. We all know you ain’t reporting everything back to the Institute. We can trust you.”

Just a quick bullet to the kneecap, a tiny voice in his head whispers. It’s not fatal. He’ll be fine. Just a little warning shot.

“I’d say sole more than proved themself to you.”

“Yeah, and it turned out they were lying. You can’t trust them, Nick. Things like that-”

His patience finally wears thin, and he snaps, “You’re a hypocrite.”

Hancock’s eyes widen, and he starts to say something, but Nick cuts him off. “You sit here, the mayor of Goodneighbor, and you tell yourself that you’ve got a good thing going. A safe haven for the freaks of the world. Goodneighbor was founded to give a home to people that had nowhere else to turn, but now that sole’s out on the street with the world against them, you want to forget all of that.”

“That ain’t the same, and you know it.”

“It is the same. They just got kicked out of Diamond City for being a synth, which is exactly what happened to the ghouls. But I guess now that it doesn’t benefit you, you don’t care, huh?”

John Hancock, bless him, throws the first punch.

It catches him across the cheekbone, and he feels something snap before he swings back with a vengeance, metal hand colliding with what used to be Hancock’s nose. John staggers back, one hand clutching his face, and the other reaches for the knife that’s still on the counter. Nick pulls his gun off his belt and, before Hancock can react, pistol-whips him, splitting open the skin on his jawline.

“Hey!”

Someone grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him back, and one of the Neighborhood Watch grabs John under the arms. He’s lost his hat, so Nick gets the full force of his glare when he spits, “Get out. Get the fuck out of my town and don’t come back.”

“Gladly.”

Nick shoves off the Neighborhood Watch and grabs sole’s ammo off the counter. “Might consider packing your bags,” he says to KLEO, “before the mayor decides you’re the wrong kind of freak, too.”

KLEO says nothing, and he slams the door on his way out. For a moment, he stands in the street, trying to catch his breath.

Sole gently adjusts his hat. “What happened? I heard voices.”

He huffs. “Let’s just say I am no longer welcome in Goodneighbor, either.”

“Nick,” they say disapprovingly. “I told you not to start any fights.”

“In my defense, he swung first.”

“I can tell.” They eye his cheek, and he waves them off.

“It’s nothing. I got the stuff we wanted, at least. Someone else will have to go to Goodneighbor for us in the future.”

“Well, we can probably get Mac to do it. But seriously, Nick, you can’t fight everyone who doesn’t like that I’m a synth.”

“I can try. And I can definitely fight anyone who condemns you for who you are and thinks they can be friends with me. They can’t have it both ways. Either they don’t like synths, or they’re fine with it, but there’s no in-between.”

They sigh. “Well, thank you for defending me, I suppose.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid. They’ll come around, or they won’t. Their loss.”

#this is turning into a whole short story huh #can't say i'm mad tho #i'm just happy y'all like it so much #anyway i guess we'll call this part 3?#please enjoy nick valentine smacking hancock with a gun #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fo4 companions #fallout 4 companions #nick valentine #synth!sole

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juminly · 4 years

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As The Rush Comes (Ikémen Vampire Theodorus Van Gogh x Reader)

Summary: You are at a nightclub with your friend Theodorus Van Gogh. The problem is, you want to be more than friends. Does he feel the same? Hell yes. Change is bound to happen. And it does. This one-shot was inspired by the song As the Rush Comes. Read all 3 parts on AO3. Rating: Mature (explicit/coarse language, detailed mention of sexual acts)

Tags: Modern AU, mutual pining, sexual tension/frustration, jealousy, dirty dancing.

Warning: mention of the reader not remembering the events of a past night of heavy drinking and partying. Word Count: 3500 approx.

Club Music Playlist *Kiss you by Nadia Ali **Down to Love (Kyau & Albert Remix) by Armin Van Buuren feat. Ana Criado

***Still I Wait (Richard Durand’s In Search of Sunrise Remix) by Jonas Steur feat. Jennifer Rene.

Song lyrics are in bold; look at this asterisks to know which song is playing in the background and play the song as you read -------------------------- *I'd wake up, and make love to you if I had you, I would touch you so much, but I'm not allowed to… Nadia Ali, bless her heart, was only adding salt to your wounds. You were already feeling salty enough for feeling the way you did and she didn’t make it any better. Why were you salty? While the song went on and on about how the vocalist just needed to wait for the perfect moment to kiss the one she wanted to show love to, you were here lamenting pathetically over Theodorus Van Gogh, the man that occupied your every waking thought and dream… and most recent fantasies.

The music was thrumming loudly in your ears, the discographies selected by this particular local DJ was always to your liking. The rhythmic beat of trance sending the club-goers into an ephemeral state of rapture as the dancefloor flocked with writhing bodies, the scent of alcohol, sweat and sex heady in the air. Were people living in some sort of state of drought? The thirst was real… and so palpable. You were not one to judge, you felt it too.

Thud… Thud… Thud… Was that the music or your pulse? You couldn’t tell anymore.

Would you pretend, we're only friends, if I kissed you, At least I can dream of you in a scene, when I'd kiss you.

You’ve dreamed of so many scenes, in so many different locations and in all of them, you were in the most compromising situations and positions. Holy fuck, just thinking about how those icy blue eyes staring into you while he lazily ran his tongue over his swollen lips, the ones you wanted to kiss and bite so damn much, that chiseled body of his positioned between your… No.. No… You told yourself you wouldn’t go there but your mind couldn’t help but wander. The song had just been coaxing you to act on your impulses and you covered your ears, just to keep Nadia from tempting you more than you already were.

How many months has it been since the incident?

The office hottie, Arthur Conan Doyle, had thrown an extravagant birthday bash in his so-called crib, and to your own surprise, the man had exquisite taste and the entire thing was planned immaculately. Who had been his wingman during the entire process? The hot mister that was your companion at the club for the night. That was how, when and where you met him, much to your dismay.

You heard that things had gotten hot and heavy between you during that birthday party and you were literally flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried into Arthur’s bedroom. Things had gotten that heated… However, big emphasis on the word “heard” cause you unfortunately don’t remember jackshit from that fateful night and cursed yourself all the time for this.

His hands roughly groping you and his lips fiercely crashing down on yours… The things that could’ve happened… The things you could’ve done… You could ONLY imagine. Imagine, yes. Remember, no. The heavens indisputably had some mocking plot to make you miserable. Miserable? You definitely were. After that night, you were thrown into the friendzone. With a capital F.

Pining after a man that wouldn’t lay a finger on you unless it was to ruffle your hair like some puppy. You almost got your chance at some type of romance in your uneventful life… Still, things only got interesting when that asshole suddenly showed up, but it wasn’t like you were actually willing to admit that to him. You’d rather swallow his… Brain and heart, focus. Libido and hormones, get the fuck away. He wants me… He wants me not… I want everything he’s got.

Shut it, Nadia. You were already drowning in heaps of doubt and you’ve clearly… clearly had enough of her feeding you more fantasies and unlawful and excessively unadulterated thoughts and you were doubting yourself already. And what you decided to do? Drink yourself into oblivion, accompanied by the vexing perpetrator who had just gotten back from the men’s room. It was admiration and pining time for you. As he slowly approached you with long and sure strides, Theodorus was, is and will always be probably the most gorgeous, handsome piece of eye-candy that you’ve ever laid your eyes on and you were 99.99% sure that this statement was your true and unbiased opinion.

Beige dress pants hugged the length of those legs that carried him, giving you the chance to drool over the definition of his stature that you could see thanks to the tightness of the fabric, emphasizing a bit too much for your liking on his… No, don’t go there. Heat flooded your reddened cheeks as your thoughts scrambled wildly in your mind as he found his seat next to you. That’s always where you found yourselves. Together. Always. You get along so well. It’s bound to be this way, right? The string of fate and the butterflies of time managed to find a way to bring you together. While your internal ruminations besieged your mind, a rich baritone touched your ears, unmistakably his. “We probably should leave soon. I don’t want to suffocate in this clothed orgy.” You shot him an inquisitive look, silently asking him to elaborate on his point. “You look like you’re about to melt in that pretty little dress of yours, Hondje. I’d rather hop to any pub or have a drink at that klootzak’s place and deal with his moaning than this. At least his place isn’t as filthy as this hellish kennel.”

“You talk like an old man, Theo. Why don’t we just try to live a little?” He simply gave you a glare, a response that you knew very well. He wasn’t going to waste his breath on such mundane frivolities. It seemed that you would have to take the drinking party elsewhere. Clubs were clearly not Theo’s favourite destination.

You couldn’t help but giggle at this man’s dog analogies. As much as they pissed the shit out of you… Wait. Rewind. Did he just compliment what you were wearing...? He noticed?

For the first time in a while, you decided to try “letting loose” and go for something different. You would usually go for something, more like, anything black but today was different. In celebration of whatever weird feeling and eccentricity that came over you, you decided to go for a skimpy off-the-shoulder purple dress that kissed every curve of your luscious form, barely reaching the top of your mid-thigh and pushed your bosom in a way that accentuated your cleavage. You felt hot and you wanted to feel hot too.

**It's down to love tonight, This is where we are, As we turn into the light, Let’s make it last...

On any other day, Down to Love would’ve been one of your favourite songs to listen to but definitely not today. You were clearly not down to any kind of love. This is not where you wanted to be and you didn’t want this to last. You growled under your breath, enough to have Theodorus, the man of the hour… no, he was the man of your every-fucking-day and your every-goddamn-dream and fantasy, tilt his head to the side to cast a judging gaze at you, raising an arched eyebrow with a silent what-the-fuck is wrong with you.

There was so much that was wrong with you and he was the cause of it all. The prime suspect. The only one, this maddeningly handsome asshole.

Lips slick with moisture, your eyes lingered a little too long on the inviting gleam before you attempted to relax in your seat, while Theo remained hunched apathetically over the bar counter, nursing his drink thoughtlessly. Both of you were so accustomed to whatever it was that you were doing, you fell into a pattern that soon began to feel more like a ritual. You couldn’t even remember how you became his drinking buddy but there was something that Arthur said once… Both of you were not the type to party hard so it made it hard for him to have fun with the both of you, even though Theo and him spent an obscene amount of time together. You were kindred spirits. That was a fact.

Being around him made it hard to breathe. You noticed that not only the first button of his shirt was open, but now, the second one was too, giving you a good look of impeccably sculpted pectorals, his skin shining under the epilepsy-inducing lights of the nightclub while drops of sweats meandered down to places unknown, unexplored… and desired. With one arm propped on the counter and leaning his full weight to one side, his form was completely angled towards you and his eyes roamed appraisingly over your provocative dress and your overall physique. You knew that look, you’ve seen it before. It was the same way he scrutinized and examined art.

His gaze was now posed on your thighs, your dress hiked up even more on your silky skin as you crossed and uncrossed your legs restlessly. “Looking at something, big guy? My eyes are up here. You’ve been checking me out since we got here.” you quipped with a smirk. “Hm?” he hummed, as if you had ripped him away from the depth of his thoughts. You could see a faint blush on the top of his cheekbones… It was clearly only a sign of inebriation. Right? “Oh, I was just wondering who you’re trying to seduce.” he replied blankly before continuing. “You wouldn’t need to dress up like this to impress me.” His tongue swiped over his lower lip, wettening it before throwing his head back, draining his glass of whiskey and turning his body away, leaving you perplexed by his words. What… What exactly did he mean by that? Shaking your thoughts away, you had enough wine in your system to finally get the words spilling from your lips. “Theo… Wanna dance?” Those three words prickled his ear drums and he turned to look at you with a judging smirk. “Is it playtime, Hondje?” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at his expected remark, climbing off your bar stool and tapping your heeled foot on the black tile beneath you. Looking at him expectantly, your heart clenched, momentarily regretting your decision to build up the courage to take the first step. He was bound to embarass you somehow.

“I’m sure you can find lots of other pups and mutts to play with in that disgusting pile of bodies.” An affronted expression washed over his handsome face and you resisted the need to slap his smugness away. You began to tremble slightly and snapped at him “You suck, Theo!”. His reaction made you freeze for a second. His eyes were taking you in, gliding over your body from head to toe before locking with yours. “Would you like to take me for a test drive? Are you in heat, Hondje?” he practically purred.

“Fuck you, Theo.” Was he capable of doing anything but frustrate (and arouse) you? You could feel an intense heat building inside of you, your heart beating angrily in your chest as you seethed from his response. You blinked, completely outraged and offended as he dared to freaking chuckle at your contained outburst.

“You wish. Now, can you go bark at someone else and let me enjoy my bloody drink?” Not wanting to give him more of your precious time, you actually flipped him the bird this time, scowling at him in disbelief, all that wine in your blood giving way for your tongue to sharpen as the night went on. “Do you always have to be such an ass?”

The ear-splitting grin on Theo’s face suddenly transformed into a smirk… and a scowl? when a young man behind you asked you to dance. You couldn’t really register what the guy was saying. Something along the lines of “ I don’t know if he’s just stupid or blind” and honestly, you kind of agreed with him. As much as Theodorus Van Gogh was a genius at what he did, he was stupid for not giving in to you. You were ready to give him… your everything. You were in deep shit, being so in love with a man who would possibly not return your affections? He looked like the incarnation of heartbreak and didn’t that just make you giddy? Being around him almost made you… sarchotic.

Sarchotic or not. Now you had his full attention.

Those ocean blue eyes were trained on you, an unfamiliar predatorial aura reverberating from him, still seeping through Theodorus’ attempt to enshroud it with the negligible quirk of those lips, that half-smile that you knew too well. If he wanted a show, he’s gonna be getting one. Not that you really cared whether he enjoyed it or not, but the least you could do is actually enjoy the company of the… You looked at your newly appointed dance partner, who had just lead you to the dancefloor, to evaluate him.

Okay, he wasn’t too bad: a bit shorter and less muscular than Theo but his hair were waves of chocolate brown that were simply asking to be threaded through and pulled. You beamed at your partner, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through your blood, knowing that the handsome Dutch man had his eyes on you and you were going to put a damn show. Wait, it wasn’t a show. You were doing this for you. You didn’t give a fuck and just wanted to have some fun. Looking at the cutie in front of you, you raised your arms in the air and jumped to the beat of the music, body-rolling as you let the sinful rhythm of your racing thoughts lead your every movement. ***I wanted it, I needed it, I love the way your skin felt upon my skin, And I thought you felt the same but you threw me away, Threw me away and still

The man in front of you was definitely getting into the groove, slowly inching close to you and you were more than ready to welcome him. Your hands that were in the air were now resting on his shoulders, your fingers finding the inviting chocolate strands of his hair. His hands were on both sides of your hips, claiming control over the frantic sway of your hips, matching the booming tempo that filled the room. You licked your lips and bit them, feeling your heart race as you snuck a quick look at the bar counter, the expression on Theodorus’ face was absolutely feral… and bloodthirsty.

Good thing you had bitten your lips because you were about to let out an obscene moan as he looked like he was ready to slam you into a wall and fuck you senseless, growling in your ear: You’re already so wet for me, Hondje, so ready for me to slide inside you…. You’ve been teasing me all damn night and when I stuff you with my cock, make you mine… You’ll be screaming my name. A looming presence was suddenly behind you, a hand gripping your hip and forcefully pulling you away from the “cutie”. You had absolutely no idea what happened, when it happened and how it happened. You could’ve sworn that you heard something along the lines of “She’s mine” but it was most probably your brain playing tricks on you. Or not.

“Are you trying to play games with me, Knabbeltje?” His heavy hand on your hip clenched tightly, his fingertips digging in your soft flesh while you drank in the rumble of his voice in your ear, velvety smooth yet deep enough to shake you to the bone, capable of making your knees buckle in weakness. You fought the temptation to rub your legs together and continued the lascivious sway of your hips from side to side in a rhythm that was your own and one that Theodorus would come to learn. Cutie, who? Theodorus was the only person you knew. All your senses acutely aware of him and he made sure of that. Only a breath of air seperated your bodies yet, he was so close but still felt so far before he yanked your back brusquely, your back hitting the vast plain of his chest and the softness of your derriere grazing his crotch. You closed your eyes and hummed with a nonchalant tone, your back arching as you reached your arms behind you, gripping Theo by his nape and threading your digits leisurely through his chestnut locks.

“You really want to know, hm?” You crooned and he tensed briefly but soon relaxed behind you, one hand caressing the curve of your hips, his hold on you was firm and steady, making you feel the heat radiating from his body and enveloping you with the scent of his cologne mixed with whiskey, intoxicating you even more than the wine you drank.

One of his large hands snakes up the curve of your waist, lightly grazing the side of your soft mound and trailing up your neck and resting there. He rolled his hips against yours, your body following his every moment as he dictated your every single motion. The warmth of his breath tickled your ear as he crooned sultrily in your ear. ��I could eat you all up, Knabbeltje… right fucking now.” I don't wanna feel rejection, don't wanna have no regrets… Is this a good decision or will you look for someone else? Leave me all by myself...

“Is that so?” you could hear your own smile in your voice and could hear an inherent raspiness in it too. Your thoughts swiveled with yearning and your judgement was clouded by your love for this man… and your inebriation. Your mutual ministrations continued as he grinded his hips at an excruciating pace, drawing out the torture that you were both suffering from. His long fingers were now teasing the column of your neck, careening over your sensitive skin and sending shivers up and down your spine. Slowly, he wrapped his hand on your neck, pressing only lightly and bit the tip of your earlobe before sucking on it, letting his tongue glide over its seams. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. You want me to repeat myself?”

“I didn’t say any such thing, Theodorus.” You dared to use his full name, intentionally triggering him. His grip tightened on your neck and warm breath caressing your ear. “I’m not all bark like you.” He truly thought that you were all bark but you were prepared and intended to do lots of biting, now that he was so near. You tightened your grip on his strands, making him groan in response. “I hate that you make me feel this way.” you breathed out slowly, trying to ignore the tightening of anticipation rousing in your chest. “Enlighten me… What kind of way do I make you feel, hm?” It was now his turn to tease you. “You know how I feel about you…” you pouted, grudgingly taking a sharp inhale before you carried on with this morphed, semblance of a confession. “You keep… you keep messing with my head, Theo.”

“You’re doing much worse to me, mijn liefste.” Oh God, you didn’t know what he said but you were positive that it was not some dog related insult and your heart drummed even harder in your chest. Why did this man have so much control over you? His voice was like whiskey and chocolate, dark, decadent and heavy with yearning, a blazing fire in your core, an excited tremor coursed through your veins like lightning, but not once did you rush the wicked to and fro of your hips, brushing your softness against the harsh ropes of sinew that made him the Adonis that he was.

Your cheeks were rosy as the pink dusk that painted clear skies and he saw that as you twisted your chest to look back and up at him. His fierce stare reflected in your glimmering eyes, your pupils dilating clearly, making them appear almost darkened in their shade. It would be blasphemous to say that Theodorus was anything but completely mesmerizing. “Don’t give me those eyes, Knabbeltje... or I promise I’ll take you here and now.”

I love to see you smile, I love, my love… As much as the thought had you reeling, you wanted the awaited spectacle to be a private one. Gazing straight in his almost glowing orbs of sapphire, he had the look of a man who was born ready to ravage you and rearrange your insides. Leaning down, he drawled against your lips with a huskiness that sent you into a frazzled state of need.

“When I fuck you, I’m going to make sure you always remember it. The only thing that’s gonna spill from those pretty lips is my name.”

------------ Read Part II HERE. Tagging le Theo simp squad + those who have been so kind to send me their ideas on what the “dirty dancing scenario” should be like: @delicateikemenmemes @sweetlittlemouse @nad-zeta @nafeary @raymiazaki @munarisblog @karmaaf (sorry if I forgot anyone else) Hope you enjoyed this 💜 Please feel free to leave comments/feedback! Masterlist

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikevamp theo #theodorus van gogh #ikevamp theo x reader #ikemen vampire scenario #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire theo x reader #ikevam theo #theo van gogh #ikemen series #otome #cybird

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for7 · 3 years

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the christmas spirit | jimin

synopsis. christmas... did you ever wonder where it came from?

☁︎ imagine park jimin having an uncanny experience on christmas years ago, with a little girl that looks just like his girlfriend...

pairing. jimin x reader genre. fantasy au + fluff word count. 3,5k

ah, christmas.

a celebration for millions of families from all over the world, during a particular day. a celebration filled with laughter, presents, love. who in this world didn’t know about christmas, its customs and magic? the answer was not astounding: no one. everyone knew christmas and knew what it represented, both religiously and culturally.

christmas was, for many, an important event. this simple date on the calendar triggered a frenzy in everyone, a frenzy that would always start months before the date. whether it was the decoration shops, the chocolatiers, the gardeners, they were all too busy to enjoy this period. a period that rhymed with joy but, above all, with benefit.

sell. sell. sell. christmas was all about it. the shopkeepers had only this word rolling from their tongues, they, who painted their shop fronts red and green, decorating them with poorly drawn snowflakes and glittering garlands that made the most innocent eyes dream.

all citizens throughout the world were overwhelmed, but no one was as occupied as a certain city.

christunix was a city so small and remote from all that it was not on any atlas, planisphere, nor globe. few really knew where it was and what it contained. the wanderers, black-hearted, could only see from the town the multicoloured lights filtered through a thick fog that seemed to come to life if you tried to cross it.

although almost unknown to all, kept intact by this magical gate, those lucky enough to know about it were very real. they were rare and were the men and women who had kept their child’s eyes despite their passage into the adult world. they were the ones who still managed to marvel at the little things that illuminated everyday life, in their routine coloured with a monotonous grey. they were the ones who had once stumbled upon an old grimoire called “the christmas story”.

if one day you ever had this work of inestimable value in your hands, through these yellowed and worn out pages, you would discover in golden inked words that the christmas tradition was born at the heart of this mysterious village as well as the white-bearded man that would become its allegory.

the first man, who would be called differently by children all over the world, had initially only been a toy manufacturer called klaus. of this man, the inhabitants of christunix did not know many things, all too young to have known him. only his faithful companion, an immortal but old elf — with a name far too long — could boast of having rubbed shoulders with him.

every sunday, he would gather the village’s children in his cottage and tell them stories of yesteryear about his companion. the first distribution of gifts, described as catastrophic, was one of the best known and adored tales for the children. this had happened several centuries before but, for the elf, it had happened a day before. just yesterday, he was helping his friend make toys, just yesterday he was riding in a flying sled to distribute billions of gifts to kind children from around the world.

ah… those days were as close as they were far away.

no one, not even the grimoire, knew how klaus had died. all the rumours, each crazier than the other, circulated in the village. some spoke of a sled accident, others of natural death. however, many thought it was the winter spirit that had enveloped him when his time had come, making him disappear from the face of the earth in a cloud of snow, leaving behind his workshop, his elves, and his knowledge.

a natural knowledge which mother nature had blessed him with, and the descendants of his lineage. an innate talent, the capacity to make from a simple piece of wood a functional toy able to let children’s eyes shine. scientists would talk about a hereditary gene; the inhabitants of the village would talk about a gift.

only the sons of the klaus clan could bear this blessing. for centuries, this was how the family worked. the siblings’ first son, the presumed heir, was to take part in a ceremony on the winter solstice day of his first year on earth. when the moon was at its highest point in the starry sky, empty of all visual pollution, and the snow fell in hundreds of flakes, the one charged with reigning over the world of christmas would place the heir on a sliced tree trunk. it was said that klaus himself had used the wood of this tree to make his first toy.

if the heir were to be a bearer of the gift, then, according to tradition, a white and red aurora borealis would appear in the sky, white dust would surround the newborn’s body as a sign of eternal protection from the winter spirit.

this rare event had only happened five times, and it was long hoped that the new heir would be the sixth. snomi was not the eldest of his family but he was the only boy, making him the worthy heir of the gift. all the inhabitants of the village had hoped for his birth, a blessing. without a boy, what would become of christmas?

when it was finally announced throughout the village that a boy had been born, the inhabitants had celebrated this news for a whole week.

you see, klaus’ fifth descendant had been unlucky about his offspring, some even spoke of a curse. five children, four daughters. the last one, the boy, was thus perceived as a miracle.

for the next three hundred and sixty-five days, all covered him with presents, endowed him as if he was their own child. the inhabitants of christunix were traditional people, attached to legends and customs. knowing that this child would one day be the one who would manage christmas triggered in them a sense of pride and need to protect him.

when the winter solstice finally arrived, the entire village climbed the blue mountain to reach the highest point of their land. all piled up around the sawn tree trunk. in the centre of this elated crowd, the child’s parents, both dressed in their traditional white and red coats, stood proudly. next to them, the old elf was alternating his gaze between the position of the moon and his gold-bed watch, old of a few centuries.

“one more minute.”

the mother transferred the sleeping baby into the arms of her father, who advanced towards the tree trunk, snow screeching under each of his steps. he laid him on the wood, caressing with his huge thumb the delicate skin of his cheek. a tear of pride slipped down his cheek and landed in his beard, but no one noticed; all had their eyes turned on the sky.

“let the ceremony of the heir begin.”

the moment the old elf’s voice sounded, the moonlight aligned with the tree trunk, thus illuminating the baby’s face with a sky-blue hue. all the inhabitants began singing in an ancient language, a mixture of scandinavian and latin. with their words, they were invoking the winter spirit and the wandering soul of klaus, the only beings capable of awakening the gift sleeping within the heir’s heart.

when the last words of the traditional song rang out, the inhabitants waited for the aurora borealis to appear.

but it never came.

whispers rose in the ranks, cries echoed. what was going on? had the ceremony been performed correctly? was it a calendar error? a lot of questions demanding answers were shouted at the parents who remained frozen, disabused. a strong breeze rose in the air, running through everyone’s shivering bodies, making the baby cried.

the child did not possess the gift.

meanwhile, far away from all the chaos, in the easternmost house of the village, the screams echoed.

“put that down, sunmi! you’re going to f—” a thud, followed by crying. “fall… well… oh my god! y/n, leave that elf alone!” the oldest of the four daughters, iclyn, shouted.

hearing her first name, the youngest of the girls wobbled towards her father’s workshop while giggling. her immaculate white hair, button nose and always pink cheekbones gave her the appearance of a little angel. however, as many have said, appearances can sometimes be misleading. y/n, especially because of her age of no more than five years, was the most agitated of the fifth heir’s daughters. while the twins iclyn and lumi exuded the wisdom that came with being a descendant of klaus, the youngest perfectly symbolised the malice and carelessness of children.

still laughing, her eyes sparkling, the child entered her father’s huge workshop. toys filled gigantic shelves and the noise seemed to be a constant element in this real factory. the elves, though most of the time playful, were busy with their task.

making, painting and packing thousands of gifts was no mean feat.

“miss klaus, what are you doing here? you should be at the ceremony!”

juniper, one of her father’s closest elves, pulled her by the sleeve, wishing to bring her back to her house. this was without considering the stubbornness of the girl who planted her feet on the ground, making it difficult for the elf and his little arms to drag her back.

“don’t want to! it boring! not even cookies… cold…” she murmured, arms folded, a pout on her lips. “i want to see toys!”

“miss klaus, come back here!”

ignoring the elf’s words, the girl began to saunter in the wide aisles of the workshop. it was her favourite place in the village. to know that her father was organising all this was very impressive, especially for a four-year-old. her sparkling gaze observed the actions of the elves. she laughed when she saw one tangled in the gift paper. sometimes tiny ‘wow’ would escape her mouth at the sight of toys, all more beautiful than the other.

however, it was a very special object that caught her attention, awakening her childish curiosity.

a snowball, depicting a fireplace decorated with christmas stockings, was delicately placed on the desk where her father would imagine and design new toys. looking around her once, then twice, to see if no one was watching her, she walked silently towards the workbench too big for her. her wrinkled eyes, a sign of her intense thinking session, opened wide while a blissful smile was painted on her face.

she had an idea.

the child grabbed cardboard boxes, which would later be used to pack bicycles, and stacked them to create an almost-staircase. with difficulty—her little arms did not contain much strength—she hoisted herself to the top, nearly falling several times. when she was finally standing on the workbench, y/n took the snowball in her little pudgy hands.

“wow…”

she hadn’t even shaken it, but snowflakes were already falling on the chimney. on closer inspection, she saw that it was lighted. putting it down at its original location, the child’s curious pupils swept the office with her eyes. she realised that on it was placed a gigantic map of the world. in her head, the names of the cities she already knew jostled.

her father, and her grandfather before him, kept telling exciting stories about all the cities they would visit on december 25th. these tales would change over the years, and the cities were never twice the same.

rubbing her skull with her fist, the little girl tried to remember the name of a city her grandfather would always talk about.

se…

sea…

“seoul!”

the moment the name of the city was pronounced, the snowball began to turn on its own. faster and faster, until the chimney was gone, giving way to a blurry image. the doors of the workshop opened in a big crash, slamming against the walls. a thick cloud of snow dust entered the room, long and lively as a snake, and flew around the workbench as if it was looking for someone. all the elves who had turned to the entrance at the noise tried to close the doors, but nothing helped. many were already starting to agitate, to hide under the tables, terrified. however, the girl kept her gaze fixed on the snowball, which seemed to be illuminated in a red so gleaming that she had to close her eyes, dazzled.

the last thing she felt was something enveloping her, like a huge cold but comforting cloak.

it had now been an hour since the little boy’s parents had come to wish him a good night, but sleep did not seem to want to weigh down the young park jimin’s eyelids. no matter how many times he changed positions, morpheus didn’t want him in his arms.

and for good reason: jimin was excited. christmas was now only a few days away and he had already planned his ploy. you see, it was now two years ago, when he was three years old, that the boy had made his decision.

he would catch santa claus.

boys in his class kept saying that santa claus didn’t exist. he didn’t believe them nor the nonsense they were saying. he knew, santa claus existed. every year, on the night of the 24th to the 25th, he would try to stay awake so he could see santa claus and his hood. and he had seen him! he was sure of it! the boy had even seen the great gentleman eat the cookies and drink the glass of milk he had carefully prepared.

last year, though, he had not been fast enough; while the boy had just come down the last step of the stairs, ready to make his presence known, the bearded man had already disappeared in the chimney.

sighing at this memory, jimin rose from his bed, his brown hair dishevelled. fumbling his way along not to wake his parents and little sister, he went down the stairs to get himself something to drink. maybe it would help him sleep? he’d once seen his mom do that.

as he passed through the living room to reach the desired place, a strange vision made him rub his eyes with his fists to make sure what he saw was real.

a little girl who had just appeared in the hearth of his chimney looked at him with eyes as wide as his own.

“who are you?” he asked.

she was dressed strangely. on her snow-white hair, a red bobble hat had been laid without much attention, causing it to fall before her sparkling eyes. her clothes were similar to those that jimin had seen the elves wear in the christmas movies that were on tv. the only difference was that she was not dressed in green but in red.

the stranger blinked several times before shaking her head from right to left. she didn’t understand him.

great.

as he was about to mime his question again, the little girl’s attention turned away from him and settled on the christmas tree, lit in red and gold. moving gently towards it, she touched with her little fingers the decorations that seemed to sparkle to her touch. a childish laugh, which brought snowflakes to appear in the sky, resounded in the room as she pointed to a little santa claus in felt.

“pappa!”

“no, it’s santa claus!” jimin corrected her, unhappy to know that his hero was not known to the young woman.

“min pappa!”

“hey, no! don’t touch that!” he ran towards her and grabbed her arm to remove her as quickly as possible from a drawing she was about to touch. he had put it at the foot of the tree a few days ago.

on the sheet of paper was clumsily drawn a race car that jimin had forgotten to write on his letter to santa claus. He hoped that the old red man could create him one after seeing it. this race car was the gift that mattered the most to jimin, it was out of the question that he let this weird girl approach it.

“se på!” the girl said, pointing to the windows that had just opened. following her gaze, jimin gasped, his eyes now amazed.

a glittering, almost transparent hand made of snow had just appeared in the parks’ lounge. tt wandered around in the air for a few moments, stopping to tickle the girl’s chin with two fingers. the latter, after laughing, cheeks now red with happiness, showed to this magical apparition the drawing of the car. for a few moments, the girl and the hand had a silent conversation that ended with a bright smile from the child.

jimin, who had remained motionless until then, startled when the hand advanced towards him.

“miss Klaus! you’re in a fix, i can tell you! why did you run away like that?! and in korea into the bargain!”

a small man with sky blue skin and pointed ears appeared in turn in the chimney. jimin had no time to understand what was going on that the newcomer was already grabbing the girl’s arm and pulling her to the chimney where they both disappeared in a cloud of red and white glitter.

the hand, which had hidden as if it did not want to be seen by the elf, flew again towards jimin, who, terrified, began to tremble. they remained silent for a long time, before it magically disappeared, leaving behind snowflakes and a race car.

the little boy fainted.

the peaceful atmosphere in the living room had a soporific effect on the couple lying on the couch. the christmas film—full of clichés—that was displayed on the tv screen had long been forgotten, as were the two cups of hot chocolate that no longer gave off smoke. a few snowflakes fell on seoul but seeing them, all the inhabitants knew they would not be there the next day. they didn’t mind, even just seeing snow made them happy. it would always wrap the city with its delicate white coat no matter for how many hours, painting the landscape with the christmas spirit.

jimin struggled against sleep that seemed to approach him a little more with each caress in his hair. he was slumped against his girlfriend’s chest, enjoying this moment of serenity which was discordant from their exalted daily lives. the words they were saying were whispered so as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded them.

“y/n?” a ‘yes, honey?’ was heard in response, urging him to continue while the caresses on his skull became softer. “did i ever tell you that you reminded me of someone i met as a kid?”

“oh, is that right?” the woman asked, her voice muffled by Jimin’s hair in which she had buried her face.

“yes. i think I was five or six at the time… or something like that. i was young enough to believe in santa claus, basically. anyway, one night i went to get a glass of water in the kitchen. i was so tired that i had a hallucination. it was as if i had seen a girl appear in my chimney and she had summoned this weird and magical hand that made me a car. weird, isn’t it? she had white hair just like you, though.”

“hmm…”

“maybe it was a prophetic dream, i knew you were going to be the love of my life.” he laughed at his girlfriend’s cringe expression. “i love you.”

slowly, she gave him a kiss on his cheek, saying these three little words back. her caresses continued until the man’s eyes closed. smiling, she grazed jimin’s cheek with her thumb, translating in this little gesture all the affection she had for him.

her eyes swept away the apartment they shared. on the walls and shelves were scattered memories, photos; all these things traced their history, which had been going on for a year now. in the entrance, on the small table where there was a bowl with keys, behind the pile of mail waiting to be read, was placed a snow globe representing a fireplace decorated with Christmas stockings.

suddenly, the windows of the living room opened, and even though the noise startled her, it did not disrupt jimin’s sleep who was now using her chest as a pillow. a trail of snow dust appeared in the living room, twirling for a few moments around the couple before it put a letter in the woman’s hand. she hurried to open it, reading its content, written in familiar handwriting.

miss y/n klaus,

how are you? personally, i can’t even sleep as your father keeps telling me how much he misses you. everyone here does. seeing each other a month per year is too little according to the villagers.

i know your life in seoul takes up a lot of your free time. however, according to christunix’s council, it was considered judicious for you to return to the village during the week. all you have to do is take your snowball, i won’t be wrong to assume you know how to use it.

without you, it’s a bit of a mess. even if the elves work hard and your drawings are precise, it’s always better when you’re on the field to check in real-time the work that has been done. your father has, as usual, high expectations even if he is no longer in the position. he keeps complaining. you must return as soon as possible or, i assure you, the old elf will get rid of him before you can say ‘christmas’.

after all, what would christunix be without the sixth heir?

p.s. your mother and siblings keep tormenting me for you to introduce them to that boy you talk about in your letters. if you feel like it, bring him back with you. maybe it’s time he finds out what his fiancée’s job is.

kind regards,

juniper.

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