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sapphicsoie · 7 months

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73 questions: 1 year later

one. on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? solid 5

two. describe yourself in a hashtag? #hater

three. if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? maybe maya hawke? or audrey plaza.... now i'm thinking ab audrey plaza...

four. if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? "and so it continues"

five. what’s one thing people don’t know about you? this is hard bc i literally never shut the fuck up especially on the internet, but i guess most people don't know i'm from bum-fuck alabama bc i don't have a southern accent

six. what’s your wake-up ritual? i read in bed for an hour, make a cup of tea and breakfast (usually cereal or toast), and then get ready, i always have music on

seven. what’s your go-to bed ritual? i don't go on my phone an hour before bed, but i listen to music or rain noises, take a hot bath, read whilst in the bath, do skincare, get into my pyjamas, read a bit more, put on aquaphor, go to sleep (i've been trying to work on my sleep hygiene, i don't think it's working.)

eight. what’s your favourite time of day? i've weirdly become a big fan of 4:30 - 6am ?? despite not being an early bird, usually i wake up at 4am against my will

nine. your go-to for having a good laugh? brittany broski!! either on youtube or tiktok

ten. dream country to visit? i wanna hike in the alps so i guess switzerland? also new zealand would be cool

eleven. what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? finding out my dad is not my biological father and i have a half-sister who lives in france

twelve. heels or flats/sneakers? sneakers

thirteen. vintage or new? vintage furniture & trinkets, new clothes

fourteen. who do you want to write your obituary? if my mom were still alive, her. if not, probably my friend virginia, we've been friends since grade 9

fifteen. style icon? noora amalie saetre from skam, also elio perlman from call my by your name (i wish i had the body of a twink ngl)

sixteen. what are three things you cannot live without? my adhd medication (lmao), my baby blanket, notebook and mechanical pencil, or something to write in

seventeen. what’s one ingredient you put in everything? probably butter lmao

eighteen. what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? my grandma, daniel handler (lemony snicket), and giula tofana

nineteen. what’s your biggest fear in life? dying alone and never falling in love again

twenty. window or aisle seat? aisle seat #gopissgirl

twenty-one. what’s your current tv obsession? i am too busy to watch tv, instead i watch stuff like mike's mic or the broski report on youtube- but if i had to choose probably fleabag or abbott elementary

twenty-two. favourite app? i think obsidian is really cool for note taking and such, i'm also guilty of loving tiktok

twenty-three. secret talent? i am really flexible because i'm hypermobile lmao

twenty-four. the most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? study abroad in norway :)

twenty-six. how would you define yourself in three words? earnest, persistent, and sadly, insecure.

twenty-seven. favourite piece of clothing you own? my emotional support uni sweatshirt that looks like a hand-me-down from the 80s because i wash it so often (i spill food on it lmao)

twenty-eight. a must-have clothing item that everyone should have? cozy knitted sweater

twenty-nine. a superpower you would want? shape shifting, always and forever

thirty. what’s inspiring you in life right now? honestly therapy?? idk i feel like i'm finally making progress and working on issues i was in denial about

thirty-one. the best piece of advice you’ve received? my dad wrote me a letter for my 16th birthday since he had to miss it. he said "it is always darkest before dawn"

thirty-two. best advice you’d give your teenage self? nothing lasts forever. also please don't let her treat you like that

thirty-three. a book everyone should read? tiny, beautiful things by cheryl strayed

thirty-four. what would you like to be remembered for? leaving the world a bit better than when i found it, whether that be on a small or grander scale.

thirty-five. how do you define beauty? obvi it's subjective, but i think someone or something that warms me inside, something so beautiful it brings me joy? also women

thirty-six. what do you love most about your body? i love my freckles and my eyes. i have blue eyes with a gold ring in the middle :)

thirty-seven. best way to take a rest/decompress? taking a hot bath whilst eating two bomb pops and reading fanfiction

thirty-eight. favourite place to view art? a museum, i love the gift shops hehe

thirty-nine. if your life was a song, what would the title be? "how long will this last?"

forty. if you could master one instrument, what would it be? piano!!

forty-one. if you had a tattoo, where would it be? probably somewhere relatively hidden, like my ankle or ribs

forty-two. dolphins or koalas? koalas, dolphins are literally evil

forty-three. what’s your spirit animal? according to a random quizzes, a bumblebee

forty-four. best gift you’ve ever received? tbh the best gift i received i never got because my ex and i broke up before she could give it to me, it was tickets to play with sea otters at the aquarium. if i have to choose a gift i actually received, probably my silver bean earrings from tiffany's that i got for my high school graduation

forty-five. best gift you’ve given? i gave my sister lily of the valley earrings (our birth month flower) + a candle with her fav fandom theme

forty-six. what’s your favourite board game? ...does cards against humanity count?

forty-seven. what’s your favourite colour? i've been fond of a dark cool toned red, forest green, and sage lately

forty-eight. least favourite colour? orange or any bright colour

forty-nine. diamond or pearls? pearls 4ever

fifty. drugstore makeup or designer? designer but there are the occasional drugstore products i love

fifty-one. blow-dry or air-dry? air-dry, i cannot blow-dry my hair to save my life :')

fifty-two. pilates or yoga? pilates, i love reformer pilates tbh

fifty-three. coffee or tea? tea unless it's a cappuccino

fifty-four. what’s the weirdest word in the english language? cattywampus like ??

fifty-five. dark chocolate or milk chocolate? milk chocolate, i have grown to enjoy dark or semisweet though

fifty-six. stairs or elevators? elevators i have a bad knee from tearing my meniscus lmao

fifty-seven. summer or winter? winter, i hate sweating

fifty-eight. you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? logically it should be something healthy but my heart is saying great grains cranberry almond crunch cereal with fairlife 2% milk

fifty-nine. a dessert you don’t like? any fruit-flavoured ice cream,

sixty. a skill you’re working on mastering? not being ashamed of my hobbies, like writing, being kinder to myself.

sixty-one. best thing to happen to you today? went to knitting club :))

sixty-two. worst thing to happen to you today? waking up for work with what i fear is bronchitis

sixty-three. best compliment you’ve ever received? i usually get told i'm funny and have pretty eyes so i guess that?

sixty-four. favourite smell? this is so embarrassing but probably whatever they spray in abercrombie and fitch stores ?? i do love a yankee candle though (specifically christmas eve)

sixty-five. hugs or kisses? hugs

sixty-six. if you made a documentary, what would it be about? pro-ed communities on social media + the new potrayal of diet culture on social media (i'm writing my senior thesis on this)

sixty-seven. last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? i can't really remember but i would say a tiktok about dogs aging with the text "to be loved is to be changed"

sixty-eight. lipstick or lipgloss? lipgloss!! i have lipstick dysphoria

sixty-nine. sweet or savoury? sweet, i always need a lil treat

seventy. girl crush? i am a lesbian all of my crushes are women, atm probably havana rose liu

seventy-one. a song you can listen to on repeat? i don't smoke by mitski

seventy-two. if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? zendaya, i want to date tom holland and be hot as fuck

seventy-three. what are you most excited for about this time in your life? graduating and being free from homework and exams, finally having a place to live for more than 9 months at a time

link to 2022 73 questions

#this was originally a tag game soooo if you see this you're tagged lmao #g.text #i'm mostly doing this for me

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bdoubleowo · 2 years

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I miss Last Life

hd version below cut

#I didn’t upload late what are you talking about #There's a secret ab this piece. i think you should look for it <3 #Last Life smp #BdoubleO100 #trafficpose #og post #my art

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carlisles-girl · 3 years

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OMG UR CAIUS FIC WAS SO GOOD COULD YOU DO SOMETHING AB ARO PLEASE

a/n: Thank you so much! I’m very excited to write for Aro, he’s one of my favourite characters, more so because of Michael Sheen’s performance. I put a slight reference to something in this, you might catch it if you know other projects Michael Sheen has been in, but you might not, and that’s alright. Hope you enjoy <3

another a/n: I did put one or two feminine terms in this work, such as ‘mia regina’ which is ‘my queen’ in Italian, so do skip over it or replace it with something else if you’d like. I love writing this type of material in the middle of my classes, it adds so much adrenaline to not get caught.

Aro Volturi With A Human Mate

Instead of being angry and frustrated like Caius, Aro was more excited.

Like as if he was getting ready for a big party.

A human for a mate was inevitable for some vampires, of course, but Aro didn’t expect to be included in the some.

He was excited since it was rare for such high profile vampires to socialize with humans.

Aro often gushed to his brothers, excited to meet you, but also for them to meet you.

He wanted to host a ball for your welcome.

But Marcus noted that it would probably be slightly frightening for you to be in a room full of vampires.

Most of the vampires would look at you as if you were some sort of a snack.

Because it Marcus’ comment, Aro assumed it would be a greater choice to send an invitation to a tour of the castle.

Free of cost, of course.

When you had received the invitation, you were beyond excited.

An invitation to a tour of an ancient castle with endless legends, for free?

Absolutely.

The tour was the next day, so of course you were slightly nervous.

When the tour commenced, a very pretty woman named Heidi lead the tour group.

She began to speak of secrets of the castle, as well as secret corridors and legends.

Some things a normal tour guide would most likely have no idea about.

Heidi then looked in your direction, and smiled brightly at you.

“It’s very lovely here. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Just when she had finished her sentence, she opened the doors where there were three men sitting in thrones, and what seemed to be 4 guards.

The man who sat in the middle, greeted everyone and began speaking greatly of the castle.

He had only stopped when he motioned for your tour guide, Heidi, to come forward.

She did as told, and held her hand out towards him.

You would have thought it was to greet him, but it seemed like he was concentrated, or zoned out.

“Magnifico! I will get Demetri to escort them.” (Translation: “Magnificent! I will get Demetri to escort them.”

A man who you assumed was Demetri, walked in your direction.

“Come with me, all will be alright, rest assured. However, do not look behind you.”

You went with him, doing as he said, but immediately turned around when the rest of the tour began screaming.

“What the hell was that?!”

Demetri just grabbed your wrist and brought you upstairs.

“Just stay in here, I’ve been instructed to keep you under my eye. Aro will explain everything to you.”

“Aro?”

“The man who sat in the middle throne.”

You nodded, and decided to sit on one of the window seats.

You wanted to ask Demetri as many questions as you wanted to, but you didn’t want to bother him, or disrupt him from his job.

When the door had opened and Demetri bid his farewells, you had turned around and saw Aro.

“You must be Y/n, correct?”

“Yeah, and you’re Aro?”

“I am, I assume you have a good amount of questions?”

You nodded, and Aro moved swiftly but smoothly towards the opposite side of the window seat.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

He sat opposite to you, and smiled slightly at you.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me, or the others. You’re the most safe you could ever be in the castle. I promise you, I will keep you safe.”

“May I ask why the rest of the tourists were screaming when I left?”

“I sense that that question should be answered later, appropriately.”

You were slightly frightened as to what the final answer would be, it could be anything.

Perhaps there was a reenactment of the past after you had been escorted, one of the tourists got pushed and the rest screamed since one of them fell, or the worst:

They were murdered.

“I feel like I already know what happened.”

“I sense that you do know, too. I will tell you everything in a moment. But for now, would you care to lend me your hand?”

You trusted Aro, though you were positive your ancestors were screaming from above or below not to trust him.

You held your hand out in front of him, and before he held your hand in his own, he asked for permission or something else.

“I want you to think of the happiest memory you have stored in your mind, I will describe it to you. I will not see anything else besides the things you want to show me, unless I have your permission.”

You thought of a memory, and then placed your hand in Aro’s palm.

He covered the back of your hand with the palm of his other hand, then he began telling you small details of your chosen memories you had even forgotten about.

When he was finished, he brought his head up from looking down, and smiled at your face of bewilderment.

“That is so cool! Is that like your superhero power?”

Aro smiled widely at your interest in his gift, and began explaining what his was.

“I have a gift, it’s called tactile telepathy. I can read everyone’s thoughts and memories with a single touch. The others in this coven have multiple different gifts, they help keep us safe.”

“So you’re all like superheroes?”

“Vampires, darling.”

After that, Aro enjoyed seeing your memories whenever you two were apart for some sort of time.

Especially say you were having a difficult time attempting to explain something to him, he would hold your hand and immediately understand what you were trying to say.

“I understand you, cara mia. I always will.”

And he was right, he understands you in every way possible.

Aro memorized your body language on how you react to different things, as well as your facial expressions.

When you’re uncomfortable with something, he will do absolutely everything in his power to make you comfortable.

Aro will burn down the entire world for you.

When it’s time for you to go to sleep, you best believe that Aro set up the most lavish and comfortable room for you.

The best and most comfortable bed, of course.

You lay down on his chest, and he brushes the hair out of your face, admiring your tired eyes looking back at him.

“Would you like for me to read to you, dearest?”

You nodded your head, and Aro would get up from wherever he was seated, swiftly retrieve a book, lay back down next to you, and begin reading.

He loved having you hold his hand while he read, it lets him see what you’re imagining the scene that he’s reading to you.

And when you fell asleep while he was reading, he would be so very content.

You curled up next to him, sound asleep on his chest.

Aro adored seeing what you were dreaming.

He loved how humans brains worked while they were sleeping, keeping your mind entertained with multiple little scenarios.

When you woke up, however, Aro would prefer to have you describe your dreams, if you remembered them.

He loved to learn more about humans, especially in the modern age.

And you loved to learn more about vampires, especially in the ancient times.

Aro would often tell you stories of each coven he encountered, his old family and friends, and his past human life.

As much as he wants you to be changed into a vampire like the rest, he can’t help but smile whenever you got slightly nervous around him, stuttering over your words, and hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment.

He pays attention to little details about you.

Especially your eyes.

Even the shade of your eyes stops him from changing you. Your eyes wouldn’t be as unique anymore, they’d be the same red as everyone else’s.

“You have the most magnificent shade of colour in your eyes, mia regina. I simply cannot get enough of them.”

Being absolute best friends with Demetri.

But wherever Demetri was, Felix wasn’t too far behind.

You three are like a troublemaker trio, always causing trouble and pulling pranks on different members of the guard.

Never Jane or Alec, though. Unless it was a scheduled board game night or something along the lines.

Which Alec loved to take away different players senses, allowing him to cheat in the games you’d play.

He doesn’t do it all the time, though.

Marcus was a lot more welcoming towards you, perhaps more than anyone else.

Whenever Aro couldn’t, he’d show you different areas of the castle you hadn’t seen yet, and would give you wonderful pieces of advice along the way.

“Remember to stay true to yourself, never let anyone think for you.”

Aro will spoil you insanely.

If you mention a specific piece of clothing even once, you better expect that when you wake up the next morning, Aro has an elegantly wrapped package placed at the foot of your bed with a note written in fine handwriting.

“Mia amato, I have seen you speak of this article of fabric, and I have gone out of my way to make sure you have every little thing you admire. I need you to be the happiest you can possibly be. Please accept my gift, and meet me by the gardens by noon. I’ll see you then. Cordialmente, Aro.”

You two have annual walks throughout the garden, usually during golden hour. The sun still above, but setting at the same time, making it seem like Aro was made of a trillion Tiffany Yellow Diamonds.

He loved finding a flower that suited your mood for the day, and putting it behind your ear.

“My beautiful.”

You two often walked either arm in arm, or hand in hand, but sometimes you would hold him closer with your arm wrapped around his waist, your head leaning on his side or shoulder.

Often times, when the moon is visible, you would slow dance together, looking at each other with smiles on your faces, just appreciating each other’s presence.

Usually, Aro would come back into the castle around 2 in the morning, carrying your sleeping self up to your shared room, after you had fallen asleep on his shoulder while sitting in the garden.

The rest of the kings and guards would be predominantly more happy than from before you had arrived.

You had given Aro something to look forward to after trials and mountains of work, something he didn’t have for hundreds of years.

Though, Caius was still slightly jealous of you.

You had practically stolen one, if the not the most, needed member of the vampire world. Aro was nearly as focused on you than he was on trials and legislature.

He’d warm up to you eventually.

At least, you hoped.

Speaking of trials, you wanted to sit in and watch the trials, to see what it was about, and how it worked.

You knew the most of it, of course, Aro had already told you. But you wanted to see it live.

Aro was quick to say no, he didn’t want you to get hurt, or worse, killed.

He understood what would happen to him if his mate was killed, Marcus was the example. He couldn’t even bear the thought of you not being by his side.

Though, you owning the key to his heart, convinced him to let you watch, letting both Jane and Alec stay on either side of you, protecting you if anything were to go wrong.

You would usually sit on Aro’s lap, and then the throne when he had to see what was truly going on by using his gift.

Jane usually stood on the left of the throne, and Alec on the right.

Mainly since Caius sat on the throne in the left, and Jane loved to torture the criminals.

He loved the front seat view.

Constant look backs of reassurance to make sure that you’re alright.

Nearly always having your hand in his.

Forehead kisses.

Constantly bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

Getting the absolute best care in the world, health wise especially.

When Aro proposed, it was in the bedroom the both of you share, and he was reading some poetry to you.

All was going swell, and then he got to one page.

“I can write no stately poem

As a prelude to my lay;

From a poet to a poem

I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals

One to you seem fair

Love will waft it till it settles

On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden

All the loveless land.

It will whisper of the garden,

You will understand.”

At the end, you were leaned up closer to him, looking at him in awe.

He closed the book, and placed it aside gracefully, before leaning slightly closer to you. Placing his hands overs yours.

“Do you remember who wrote that, cara mia?”

“I do. That’s Oscar Wilde, right?”

“That’s right. There’s so much I want to say to you, especially in this particular moment, but I don’t think there’s enough words to express my love and affection towards you. I’ve known you for a little while, and I can feel the bond between us, and I know you can feel it, too. The universe has guided us together, and I am so very thankful for every second we have spent together, and I’m even more thankful for the rest of eternity we have. However, I am the most thankful of the fact that I have the most gorgeous human as a mate. I love you so much, anima mia. Will you do me the best thing that could ever happen to me in my thousands of years, and marry me?”

You said yes, obviously, who wouldn’t?

You leaned over to press your lips against his, as he held one side of your face with one hand, and the other hand slid a ring on your ring finger.

While Aro wanted an extremely lavish wedding, with all the diamonds in the world, you wanted something more of a homely essence.

So you compromised, and had a bit of both.

Aro invited nearly every vampire to the wedding, wanting to show you off in every way he could.

The Denali’s, Cullens, Irish coven, everyone was invited.

Except for the Romanian coven, Vladimir and Stefan. Not trusting them to be in your presence.

The wedding was held in the garden, the arch where Aro stood had your favourite flowers intertwining around it, with diamonds pressed in the centre of each individual flower.

Demetri walked you down the isle, smiling proudly when he handed you over to Aro.

Proud that his leader had finally found true love, and that one of his best friends is finally where they need to be.

After the official wedding ceremony, the rest of the night and day were spent smiling and showing off each other to the guests.

When the night ended, it was finally time for you to be changed to a vampire.

Aro sat by the bed were sitting on, making sure that you were absolutely ready to be converted to a vampire for the rest of eternity.

“Are you ready, my darling?”

You nodded your head, and Aro took one final look into your coloured eyes, attempting to remember every small detail of them.

Aro then moved your hair away from your neck, before placing his lips over where he would finally bite down and turn you immortal.

“Just say when, and I’ll see you after.”

#twilight x reader #twilight preferences #twilight #twilight imagine #aro volturi #aro twilight #volturi preferences #volturi kings #aro #volturi #aro volturi imagine #aro volturi x reader #aro volturi oneshot #twilight aro #volturi oneshot #volturi imagine

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laur-rants · 2 years

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Some of my favorite bits from Part 1 (◡‿◡✿)

hehe there are SPOILERS under the cut, Silly!

1-- Warfstache ending. This was the best bit for me so far. So good, and he looks like he does from Wilford ‘Motherloving Warfstache’! Just one of the biggest pieces of evidence that we will be seeing things that pertain to WKM later in Part 2.I’m VERY excited about that fact.

2- Warfstache ending DEUX -- I actually think I forgot to plot out this ending specifically. But this one ends with the Narrator asking what we were doing here, looking for some sort of EASTER EGG? Well here it is-- and it gives us a Warfstche mask from the end of, --again--!! Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache. Insane! Absolutely insane. Two references to one of my favorite story videos Mark ever did. How could I not love this?

3- Space is so cool overture. I get sparkly eyes every time

4- Finding the secret image of Abe. MORE WKM. MORE WARFSTACHE. WE ARE THE DA. 8))))

5- I’m 10000% convinced that, in the ones where we have to Put out the fire and THIS happens:

The person tentatively saying “Captain?” is 1000% DAMIEN/DARK. All of the signs are from someone else, trying so many times to get the loop to stop. But the voice, the inflection Mark uses.... I’m convinced. That’s one of our few “glimpses” of Damien.

6-- Any time someone said ‘that’s not me, that’s not me” and there was a whisper or a voice behind us, I think, once again, That was Damien/Celine/Dark trying to get through to us. I think the entity of the fake Lady was a projection of Darkiplier towards us, but they still can’t reach us.

6.5-- Also pretty sure Mrs. Whitacre is connected to Dark/Damien. One of the post-it notes in ‘Put er in Reverse’ linked Doline and Celci, and Celci is CLEARLY an analog for Celine. Which means.... DOLINE is probably a link to Damien, and, well.... :) cmon damien, you can stop pretending, we know its you and Actor is just trying to keep you from breaking all the way through.

7-- Actor Mark ending. only One month left of parole, huh buddy? Funny.... because part 2 comes out in..... 28 days Smile :)))

8-- ILLINOIS SUPRISE! that was amazing.

9-- Ed’s dead body from Heist. Hilarious touch that they still had that prop. Loved it.

10-- CHICAAAAAA

11-- The Tuna Fish/PBJ sandwich ending somehow survived. Incredible.

12-- The Horror and Romance novels we get to look forward to, hinted that they’ll be in Part 2. Love a good callback to Date. :D

13-- Chef callback. uwu

14-- All the rest really! There’s probably something I’m missing, there always is, but I was left really satisfied by this. Mark should be INSANELY PROUD. This was incredible, and I look forward to Part 2!!!

#iswm #iswm spoilers #in space with markiplier #markiplier #oh that so coooool #my computer cant handle the rendering #thinky thoughts on my end #i watched quite a bit over again #so two or three times through #there was a lot #still is a lot #i really had to back track a couple of times to make sure i got everything because #it loops SO many times #loved that #anyway #goodniight!#laur rants #and happy theorizing!

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

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Oooo it’s my birthday today and I neeeeeed my sweet boys, is it too greedy if I ask for you to write something absolutely adores like you always do. I can wait there’s no rush. It would really make my day a whole lot better

~Notes: HI HI BABY!!! I’m so so fucking sorry this is like two days late 😭😭😭 I am a piece of shit and I had an idea and then I scrapped it and then I came up with this crack shit! But I included singling like you wanted!! And ILU endlessly!!! I hope your birthday was at least filled with sunlight and friends and all the adoration you deserve🎉🎉🎂🥳🎈🎈🎈🎊🎊🥳🎁. And I hope this isn’t a shitty gift!😭😭

Send Me A Prompt<3 | A Reblog is like a hug!!!!

The 4 Times People Suspected About Remus and Sirius, and The One Time They Called It By Name

~I~

Peter notices it first.

He doesn’t know quite what it is, or what it means— Peter doesn’t understand what it entails when he’s watching the way Sirius gently thumbs at a high patch on Remus’s cheek while he’s sleeping on the hospital bed after the first full moon of fourth year, a fraught look in his stormy eyes. Or how Remus’s gaze always search Sirius out first after he’s made a wry comment in the expense of the Slytherins, going alight with the other boy’s laughter. Peter doesn’t comprehend the way it sometimes seems like he’s caught in some sort of static— a negative space that makes him feel out of bounds— when he’s alone with only the pair of them. When they’re all huddled around the common area or their dormitory while James is probably skulking in search of Lily Evans or cajoling the other chasers to have another lap around the court. With Remus lounging on his fourposter, or the sofa, reading one of the infinite books he’s got tucked away in his trunk, and Sirius is quietly sat by his feet, toying with a non-magical contraption he’s found in Muggle London after sneaking out from his ancestral home while his folks were having a row. And Peter is ordinarily just fiddling with a scroll he has to finish for one of the tougher courses from a bit away, intermittently glancing at them side long, just waiting for an excuse to leave the suffocating ambiance that feels like it’s been fitted for just the pair of them and not another soul.

But the most peculiar part about all of this is that Peter is accustomed to feeling like the spare, the cast off who’s clinging to the glimmering forms that are James and Sirius, and their ravenous appetite for any and all attention that’s given over because that’s the sort of boys they are— affluent and prominent and radiating with a sort of spark that’s all there own— the sort of boys that others find doubtless that they are something miraculous. But when Peter’s around just the pair of them, in the corner of the galaxy that the marauders have carved for them to rule like kings— It never feels quite so stilted, so weighty. Sirius and James have a gift of making everyone in the room feel like they’re in on the joke, that they could be showered with that same granger just as long as they play in the tableau. Remus and Sirius together feels the contrary of that, like there’s something pregnant lying between them, waiting to pounce. Like there’s an understanding that no one else gets to glimpse at, and no one else should try. An understanding that’s personal and private and crackling with an energy that is far beyond anything between mere friends, beyond anything Peter could fathom with all his fifteen years.

Idly, over supper after an entire two hours being stuck between that strange tension simmering beneath the surface of Remus and Sirius, Peter wonders for the umpteenth time on whether he should ask James about this development in their small brotherhood, should ask him if he’s detected the difference there. And if he has, Peter will listen to James’s plan to ensure this doesn’t ruin anything. How whatever is brewing under the surface won’t absolutely ruin them.

But then, from the corner of his eye, Peter sees Sirius— none to gently— piling Remus’s plate with an abundance of the potatoes that Moony likes best, dipping down to whisper something in his ear— something surely lecherous— before tousling his curls in that brash, bombastic way of his that he does with Peter and James too, even if he ends it by gingerly cupping the nape of Remus’s neck with a surreptitious squeeze that ends just as quickly as it began, falling back into conversation with James and Marlene about the Wasps’s chances against the Harpies this Friday night as if it was just an innate action, even if it’s one Peter’s only ever witnessed him doing to Remus.

And even though there’s another full in two days, and even though Remus looks like a walking inferi— pale faced and exhausted posture and circles the color of midnight smudged beneath his eyes— Peter watches the ends of his lips quirk up into the best approximation of a smile Peter’s ever seen on him so close to the wolf breaking through the surface of his body that’s all skin and bones, and he isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but Remus actually looks like he might be glowing over the strange attention that Sirius’s only ever paid to him.

So no… No, Peter doesn’t think he’ll ask James quite yet, reckons that if anything can help his moon plagued friend, that it must be something good, something that shouldn’t be tempered with.

They can figure out how the strange string pulling Remus and Sirius together will alter their brotherhood later on, there’s still time. There’ still a possibility that it won’t devastate everything.

~II~

Lily’s suspected for a while.

The thing is that she’s known about Remus since the end of third year, when he rebuffed the advances of an eager Heleen Abed, and Lily found him on the ledge of the largest window in the vacant common room— the same one that they regularly commandeer with Mary McDonald to discuss the finer points of Muggle politics and current events, separate from the melting pot of their Gryffindor class that’s composed of either pure bloods or those with their closest Muggle relative being a long dead grandparent. And it was definitely a dangerous, knife’s edge she was playing at, but Lily had sat besides the boy who she’s cultivated a real and true friendship with— one beyond pleasant platitudes and fodder about their course work— and she told him about her cousin Joey with green spiked hair and a mischievous smile adorned with a sparkling stud and how she and Petunia had caught him holding hands with one of his friends from sixth-form in the garden of her Aunt’s cottage, and how even the sneer on her older sisters lips hadn’t deterred Lily from thinking anything but mild indifference about the situation. Only wanting her cousin to always live in that easy effervescence she’s always known when it came to him.

And nothing else was exchanged between them, but Remus had grinned in that barely perceptible way of his, and Lily had nudged his shoulder with her own and then fished out her final handful of chocolate frogs for them to share while they revise their notes for the transfiguration exam coming up.

Two summers have past since then—they’re in the midst of their final term of fifth year now— and she thinks that they’ve become even closer, that the frequent late nights in the library for their impending OWLs and their countless prefect rounds has helped forge a real and true bond— especially that whole snag earlier in the year when they had realized they were both snogging Leon Bennett on alternating nights behind greenhouse three. But all of that withstanding, Lily knows that there are still secrets Remus keeps tight to his chest, ones that Lily’s analytical mind— the mind of a potions expert and future healer— has suspected to do with the thin, silvery scars running down his strong hands that are all tapered fingers and slender wrists, and another across his right bicep that she saw when he had changed his robes for a jumper in front of her, and the one cutting down from the bottom of his ear and nearly across the entire length of his neck, ending at the corner of his sharp collarbone. But Lily suspects he’ll tell her about that soon enough, what she isn’t so confident about is him admitting that particularly dazed look he gets when around Black, of all people. The way he stammers his words occasionally and the way he worries on his bottom lip while averting his glance when Sirius is chatting up a very pleased looking girl, and the way he flushes when Lily is ribbing about him in particular. And Lily knows that the foursome of Gryffindor boys had a falling out of sorts before winter hols, that there’s a hairline fracture between them and Remus now— one that she’s sure no one else can pick up on after the way they had seemingly come back together in late January, right before her birthday funnily enough. But Lily’s always been the analytical sort— the sort to absorb the barebones of a situation so she could conjure a hypothesis that she could prove after careful study.

So Lily knows that it’s something deeper, and she can see how Remus is reticent around them in ways she’s actually worried won’t be shaken off anytime soon— which is all levels of bazaar considering she’s been telling Remus for years that he needs to shrug off his rowdy mates like a snake shedding an old coat. But before, when she’d barb as much he’d only stick out his tongue and tell her what happens to busybodies, and how she doesn’t really know them at all. But now days, he just looks particularly hurt, and more than a bit put out, and Lily catches him flickering over to wherever Sirius was holding court, longing in a way she couldn’t possibly articulate out loud.

Honestly Lily thinks it’s really quite gracious of her to have dropped the subject completely, rather, she takes up the mantel of his friend that can distract him from all those sorts of woes, biting her tongue over his lingering feelings for Sirius that are more than likely far beyond a passing fancy. And she thinks that maybe that’s a good call, maybe it’s good for Remus to beat down those sorts of emotions that he’s harboring for the wanker. She knows Remus, and she knows he wouldn’t hold a grudge— even such a quiet one— for no reason at all. Besides, she doesn’t really think it’s her place to tell him how when he’s glancing away, Sirius is holding vigil to him with that same sort of fervor. That Sirius is the one who collects the notes for all his classes on those conspicuous absences of his when Remus is feeling poorly in the infirmary. That Sirius occasionally looks so very gutted when Remus is wilting away from them, when he seeks Lily’s company instead.

She has a heavy suspicion that Remus might already know all of those things— that maybe they’ve already discussed it at length, that maybe the falling out in December has caused a full stop of anything that could’ve potentially blossomed between them. And she just wishes she knew the entire story so she could decide on whether she should be jinxing Black’s face to a putrid orange color, or pushing Remus to actually give him a chance.

Lily just wishes she could read Black as easily as she can Remus, maybe that would help in this experiment she’s testing, because for now she’s just confused as all hell over what exactly Black feels towards him. Well that is until it’s a fortnight before Remus’s birthday, and she’s being bodily dragged into a closet on her way to charms.

“Oi— What the bloody—“

“Language, Evans,” the annoyingly familiar baritone of Sirius Black tsks, lighting up the cupboard with his wand and smirking in that jagged way she’s heard countless girls tittering over, and the one that makes her want to pop him one right against his ridiculously smug face.

“Black,” she says, caustic as all get out with her fists clenched against her sides and her brows making a really resilient effort to meet in the middle. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I hex your bollocks off.”

“Pff, and Jamie thinks you’re some sort of saint.”

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.”

Sirius pulls a face at her, but must understand the credence in the words, because it’s not another moment more before he pulls out a bedraggled looking slip of paper from his robe’s pocket, and thrusts it at her face. So with an indignant huff, Lily opens it up and begins scanning the words— becoming all the more confused when she sees measurements and things like coco powder and melted butter, instead of whatever the hell else she was preparing herself to read.

“I’m being pranked, aren’t I? You’re trying to distract me so you and Potter can do something horrid to the Slytherin’s common room.”

“We’ve actually already done that today,” Sirius jeers, raising up his hands in concession with a cluck of the tongue at her scowling face. “’s from Moony’s mum, all right. I asked her to send me the recipe of this chocolate cake she use to make him for his birthdays before Hogwarts— I just thought… It might be nice is all, and you can sod right off if you look at me like that, Evans, with the soft eyes and all that rot. Are you going to help me or not?”

Lily resolutely ignores the pang to her heart, because God, this really is such a sweet gesture. “And what? you thought I could help you because I’m a bird?” She asks in the most scolding inflection she could muster in the face of this incredibly soppy gift he wants to give Remus.

“None of that, blimey, Evans.” Sirius snarls, obviously diffident, and combined with the faint flush to his cheeks, Lily suddenly realizes why he’s considered one of the best looking blokes in the entirety of their school. “There’s a whole load of Muggle mumbo jumbo, so it was between asking you, or McDonald, and I adore Mary and all, but she has got such a mouth on her.”

“You should know,” Lily counters with a leer. “She couldn’t stop going on about your date back in October.”

Sirius’s brows hike, and he actually smiles at her— one that’s vacant from all his bravado from his upbringing in his pretentious, pure blood home, and one that isn’t trying to show off. And Lily can’t help but favoringly liken him to an excited pug. “Oh you’re wicked, Evans!” He shrills delightedly. “Oh this is great, you’re just as depraved as Remus, are all prefects like this?”

Lily snorts, shaking her head at him, indulgent. “Never mind that, Black. Most of this stuff can be found in the kitchens below, I’m sure the house elves won’t mind us borrowing anything.”

“And the ingredients that won’t be down their?” He asks worriedly.

“Well, good on you planning this so far ahead of time, we’ll just have to experiment.”

Sirius groans in retort, muttering things about Muggle potions and James thinking he’s getting off with his future wife and other ridiculous things that Lily doesn’t bother to stay and listen to. Though, when Remus’s birthday does roll around, and she sees his countenance go a thousand shades brighter as he bites into the pudding, and Sirius’s grin stretch just that much more across his face in response— their eyes meeting across the room and past the crowds— Well Lily suspects Sirius never really minded any of the things he was whinging on about, not at all, not as long as the result was a beaming Remus.

~III~

Regulus hears about it in the halls.

He’s not much for gossip or that sort of dribble, doesn’t have much patience for anyone outside his house if he’s being at all frank— and even then, it’s not as if he doesn’t frequently find himself escaping to his fourposter for a moment’s quiet. It seems that everyone in this bloody castle are just dimwitted, daft idiots, and Regulus’s never been the sort to offer allowances for that kind of behavior. He’s been raised in the home of a family as close to royalty as Wizards permit, a prince among men. And he was told that he should have patience for the dull folks beneath him, just as long as they have the correct ideals, but sometimes he can’t help but wish they would all just let him be, sometimes feels like he’s being carted around Hogwarts as the perfect pure blood, like he was nine years old again and being shown off in the parlor of his home when guests came to call, watching from the sidelines while his mother rave about how splendid of an heir Sirius is turning out to be. How his tutor calls him a genius for any age, and how darling he looks in Slytherin green, and how he’s already mastered three romance languages to help in his spell work.

And Regulus can’t help but scoff at those contemplations now, thinking of the past summer when his dramatic and brash brother had made a whole production of leaving behind the values that gave him everything he has. How he escaped to that Potter git’s home the way he’s been doing for nearly every holiday since his second year, how he offered Regulus to come along as if he’s a trader just like him. What a risible excuse for an heir.

But Regulus won’t commit such follies, he’ll make his parents proud— even if his father is nearly never paying much mind and his mother goes from raving to sickly in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll carry on the Black legacy, something that his oh so perfect brother never could’ve done. Regulus is only a fifth year, will be turning sixteen in only two months after Sirius’s coming of age, and sure, this might mean he’s still young enough that the Death Eaters don’t find him adequate to fight on the line of fire, but he’ll do it eventually, feels the weight of the letter from Bellatrix praising him for as much resting heavy in his pocket. And if Regulus finds them all a bit too vicious or a bit too excitable and completely lacking a deft hand to make the changes they’re searching for, he shrugs it off. He knows what he must do, and as he stares at his brother from across the valley cusping the lake, he’s only that much more steadfast in the conviction of the fact.

Sirius is sitting and laughing with a group of his Gryffindor mates, the mudbloods, and blood traders that had warped him from the brother he knew to the stranger he is now. And there’s a dark skinned Ravenclaw bird— Meadowes if he remembers correctly from his prefect meetings— and she’s telling some sort of long winded tail with hand gestures and loud cackling coming from the group as she goes on. And Sirius is tossing around a quaffle with Potter— the glint of a handsome, silver watch on his wrist catching in the dying sunlight. And Regulus wonders who had gifted him such a personal passage to adulthood, but is soon distracted by spotting the way Sirius nearly gets smacked in the face with the ball because he was too busy gawking over at Lupin in such a stripped down, cautious way that it makes Regulus squirm.

He doesn’t know much about the elder Prefect, only that his name had come up nearly as much as Potters during that first year when Sirius would send him correspondence on a frequent basis because he knew how lonely Regulus would get while stuck in Grimmauld all by himself. And then when he began attending Hogwarts, Regulus never could get a good reading on him. He knew Potter because of how his family is infamous for their liberal views and nouveau riche attitudes, and Pettigrews family owns a hokey herb shop in Diagon. All he’s found out about the Lupins is that his father is the son of half-bloods and his mother is a Muggle, and that this mudblood is a reserved, carefully aloof bugger, and that somehow he’s seemingly captured all of Sirius’s attentions that he’s not giving Potter or the clinger ons who follow him around like mindless fools. Beyond that, Lupin and Regulus have only traded a hand full of words whenever their roles of prefects would force them to intermingle, and it’s always been punctuated by Lupin giving Regulus a witheringly cold look anytime they were in close proximity, which is admittedly impressive considering that half the time the sickly bastard looks like he’s about ready to keel over.

So no, Regulus doesn’t know much about him, but he’s heard the rumors. He knows that it’s basically an open secret between the Gryffindor class and selected friends. The fact that his brother is probably shagging the mudblood, convincing Regulus that Sirius really has never given a toss about the decorum and standards befalling them as the only two Black males of their generation. And he hates his brother so scathingly right then, hates his little munblood lover probably even more.

And when he watches Lupin straying his gaze from the novel he was reading while that red haired Muggle born was resting her head in his lap, and Regulus saw the way both of their expressions went a peculiar sort of tender— well that’s the last straw, so he stands up in a huff— so unlike himself— and he cuts the story Mulciber was crowing on about, and he tells them he needs to complete a scroll for Slughorn.

And while he prowls away from the sight of his brother continuing to ruin everything, Regulus plunges a hand into his pocket, and crunches Bellatrix’s letter in his grasp, promises himself to write her back soon, and ignores the ache in his chest that’s only been growing larger since Sirius had left permanently.

~IV~

James’s always known.

Perhaps that’s an over reach, but it’s true enough. He’s known for years, on some level, that the thing between Sirius and Remus is something completely foreign to him. Something completely separate from how Sirius licks his face when James is over sleeping and he wants to be a general nuisance. Separate from how he and Remus have begun discussing anything and everything in the wee hours of the morning, with a spot of tea between them and a blanket on their legs, because Remus can’t sleep from the moon and James has never been able to sleep through the whole night without feeling guilty over it. He thinks it stemmed from when he was younger, when his parents were feeling sickly, and before they were gifted a house elf by a family friend who recognized that the elderly Potters needed just a bit more assistance.

James never knew whether it was obvious to him because he’s always considered Sirius as his bastard brother since Christmas of first year, and that he’s always trying to make sure that Remus is all right after finding out just how impressively the bloke can keep secrets once Sirius figured out his furry little problem. So he’s not sure what others know, or even what Remus and Sirius know of what’s happening between them, honestly, there have been so many almosts that James has picked up on over the years. And he still shutters thinking about the near total break that happened with the prank, still isn’t quite sure what had past between them to get Sirius and Remus speaking with each other once more, but he does know that Remus staying with James, Sirius, and Peter the past summer after Sirius escaping the twisted place he was suppose to call a home, is what helped indefinitely. And now, a year separate from the prank, things finally feel normal between them.

Well— Erm, not normal per se. Those idiots are still blustering and bumbling and bashfully avoiding one another when anything close to romantic comes up in a discussion or when their hands touch over the Great Hall table or whenever James makes a pointed remark when he catches one of them staring a bit too slack jawed at the other in the midst of something totally bloody innocuous in the eyes of a normal person— EG: Sirius gathering his hair— that’s nearly to the bottom of his neck now a days— into a small knot on the back of his head, or Remus sucking idly on a sugar quill while he’s revising. And sure, James has to deal with the kicks at his ankles, or a spare jinx if one of them is especially pissy, but Lily’s come to join him in the ribbing, so it kind of makes everything all right. Especially when she levels her beautiful, forrest green eyes with his own brown ones, and she actually looks sort of endeared.

Yeah— that’s a fucking amazing feeling all right, and it’s probably the memory of that happening only a few hours ago that has got James all jittery now, far past midnight. So with a tired sigh, he slides open the drapes of his fourposter, is ready to go downstairs for a kitchen raid if Remus isn’t awake— Though once he sets his glasses on, and blinks a few times over to get acclimated with the dark, he’s only a bit stunned to find the shapes of Remus and Sirius crowded on the former’s bed— and they’re really not much more than suggestions beneath the shadows, but it’s enough for James to see Sirius’s head bent low, resting it against the crook of Moony’s neck and shoulder, while the shorter boy has got his arms wrapped around Sirius’s torso. And it’s nothing obscene, not really— it’s not like they’re nude or anything— but Sirius is shirtless, and Remus does have this blissed out expression painted over his features, that James would bet good money is the same one Sirius has got on if most of his face wasn’t covered by his hair.

And in another breath, Remus’s honey colored eyes flap open, widening exponentially when he catches sight of James, and wiggling around as if he wants to move away from Sirius completely, which is of course stunted when Sirius makes a low noise under his breath, and presses closer so that his mouth is quite literally right against Remus’s neck, and his arms tug him closer.

And James is definitely convinced that he’s the best mate any bloke could ask for when instead of chuckling at the obvious show of territorialism, he just shakes his head indulgently at them, mouthing an “About time plonker,” to Remus, who replies in kind with a hefty, two fingered salute.

This time James has to bite down to prevent his chuckle from spilling out.

“And here I was, about to offer you a snack from our dear house elves.” He whispers, hopefully quiet enough so that only Remus could hear.

“Oh, just bugger off,” Remus retorts, smiling with such mirth that James can’t even feign to be affronted over it, only follows the playful command and tries figuring out just how to give the ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ talk to the pair of them without it coming across insincerely.

~+I~

Millie was bored until she saw them.

The only reason why Millie got this boring job in this beyond posh restaurant is because her folks reckon that she needs to learn some form of responsibility before university, and she hates it. The pay is absolute shite, and most of her coworkers are all levels of boring, and the patrons are not nearly entertaining enough to try and make up some secret back story of tumultuous affairs or secret agents from the MI6, or a royal from some country on the continent meeting their star-crossed lover.

It’s all just painfully ordinary, and she’s cursing her parents while she chomps on her gum, reading some stupid note by an ugly old fart who left her his number on the receipt.

Scoffing while she bins it, Millie glances over to the newly occupied table in her section, heart immediately leaping once she gets a good look at the pair of blokes sitting down.

The sandy haired one is definitely cute in that reserved way her best friend Claire would definitely be mad over— the guy who could read you poetry in French or Italian and then gently kisses the back of your hand. And that’s all and well, but Millie’s every attention is laser focussed on his mate, the one that looks like he can be bloody James Bond with those smoldering eyes and that ink black hair, and God, those cheekbones! Definitely one of those beautiful, Public school boys who’s born and bread by the patrician. And while she takes their orders, she tosses him her most flattering of grins and slips in her giggle that an ex boyfriend compared to silver bells, and is sure to flip her long, chestnut hair enough times so he’d notice, even if she’s pretty sure he’s either pissed or probably more than a bit stoned. (Truly, where the bloody hell would he come up with pumpkin juice? How horrid must that taste).

Millie may or may not spend an unreasonable amount of time spying at them from where the cooks drop off the completed plates to be sent away. He’s just so bloody good looking, and she can’t believe this awful job has finally brought her such an amazing distraction, and the arse doesn’t even pay her much mind, leaving the ordering and the conversing to his fair haired friend.

Maybe he’s sensitive, she thinks to herself. Maybe he’s just a shy soul. And yes, that must be it! The poor, beautiful sod. She’s sure to make her intentions clear next time she thinks it’s appropriate to top off their waters, because she’s so very gracious like that.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Millie asks in her most light hearted of cadences, filling up the shorter one’s glass but smiling fully and exclusively to the boy who looks like he should be starring in some sort of Brook’s Brothers advert.

“Ta,” the sandy haired boy says, sounding a bit amused at her dilemma, but it’s kind enough so Millie doesn’t feel brassed off over it. “Do you mind pointing me to the loo?”

“Oh of course!” She crows, suddenly ecstatic as she directs him, finally getting a chance to be alone with the model. Though when she turns her attention to him once the other one leaves to take a leak, she’s kind of confused how he’s staring after him with a glance she vividly remembers on the face of her ex whenever she’d peer back around to ensure he was watching her go— Though, if Millie’s being honest, the model somehow looks simultaneously eager to watch the back of him, but also already disheartened not to have him around in ways she doubts anyone she’s ever gone out with has ever exhibited. “He’s a nice chap,” she states, instead of marinating on the strangeness of this development.

The practical model starts, seems to have forgotten about her presence all together, but then he glances over towards her with those impossibly flattering, pale gray eyes, and he nods disinterestedly. And yeah, yikes. That is a total hit to Millie’s ego.

“Ahem,” she clears her throat, begins twisting her free hand into the material of her apron. “’S nice you guys came for dinner, you don’t see much friends considering how bloody expensive it is here, hah.”

Millie feels herself going absolutely scarlet at the impassive way he drags his gaze up and down her form before taking a swig of his Bellini. “He’s not my friend.”

“Oh,” Millie practically squeaks out, suddenly wonders if maybe he’s a tutor from his class or something? Maybe the model is just taking the cute one out to dinner as a thanks for helping him pass his A-levels? Maybe this is considered cheap in the circles that the model keeps.

“’S our one year anniversary actually,” he tells her, still in that methodical, blasé way of his. And oh. Oh wow! Suddenly everything is snapping into clarity.

The way the two boys had brushed the back of their hands before being seated, how model had trusted the other boy to order for him, how model never looked away from the cute one’s mouth or collarbones or hands as they spoke. How whenever she came around to ask if they needed anything else, it felt like she was intruding on more than just a couple of mates catching up.

Oh Jesus, she feels like such an idiot, and Millie tells the model just as much.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot! I didn’t even put it together.”

Remarkably, the model’s rigid posture goes a bit loose at her apology, and the corner of his thin lips quirk up into a grin. “’S fine, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it, but yeah— Just feels good telling someone.”

Millie nods eagerly, she can’t understand exactly what he means, obviously not, but she can definitely try to, and if it feels good for him to tell a random bird about something so important, then she’s more than happy to help. “Well the point stands, yeah? He seems like a good sort, you’re lucky to have found each other.”

The model’s grin goes elastic at that, and he looks actually approachable for the first time tonight. “I’m the luckiest bloke in the world that I get to be with him.”

Millie flushes at the intensity embedded into his statement, but thankfully doesn’t have to answer when she hears the sandy haired boy walking closer now, smiling so brightly that there’s a dimple popping up on the apple of his cheek that Millie’s only just noticed— The mirth is a good color on him, she reckons. Makes him look as gorgeous as those boys on the telly dramas her Mum is always gushing about, even his eyes turn more golden than light brown. “You pestering our waitress Padfoot?”

“You know I keep my devilish tongue for you and you alone Moonbeam,” the model—Padfoot cannot be his actual name for heaven’s sake— retorts.

“Lucky me,” the sandy haired boy says wryly as he takes a seat, and while Millie walks away— intending to get them a pudding that’s on the house to celebrate the milestone of their relationship— she peers back around only once and it’s enough to see the tips of their fingers kissing across the table, and their smiles looking like a secret language not meant for anyone else to read.

My Full Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #Spilt Ink #I'm sorry if you hate this sugarplum #Like legit #idk what I am on #JFC #I suck #flksadjgaklsgjoewiajfsg

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just-someone-who-likes-to-write · 3 years

Text

Prince Nuada x Angel!Reader (P.3)

(Requested by @blackwoodwinter : Hello! Could i request a story of reader x prince nuada, where the reader is naturally born human with powers & mutations that make her look like an angel. She also works in the BPRD alongside Red and Abe and when she first meets Nuada he mistakes her for a mythical creature, initially not liking her of betraying mythical creatures for humans, but she clearfies she is technically human and shows him little by little there is still good in humanity.)

Warning: None I guess.

Word Count: 2,888

Part1 Part2

It has been weeks since the resurrection incident, (Y/n) had recovered and has rejoined the investigation for the Gargoyle. During the said investigation, Nuada has been keeping an eye on the little human angel, which surprised some because he always showed nothing but disgust towards her and now he will not leave her side unless she expressed wanting to be alone. Of course, he was subtle about it, only those who knew him well enough noticed such actions. Hellboy didn't like the sudden interest the elf prince had in (Y/n), Abraham was between being hopeful that Nuada accepted her as a friend and worried that he was up to something, Liz and Nuala on the other hand had a pretty good picture on what was possibly happening but said nothing only acted when Hellboy needed someone to hold him back or poor Abraham who needed reassurance that everything is fine.

However, unlike what the girls were thinking, Nuada wasn't staying close to (Y/n) because he had feelings for her, but rather was intrigued by her and wanting to know what else she is able to do.

"Can you fly with them?" He asked one day when he caught her stretching her wings, his eyes mesmerized by the feathers that shone against the light.

"Uh… Yeah." She replied a bit startled since she thought she was alone.

"How high can you go?" He took a few steps forward to get a better look at (Y/n)'s wings.

"Well, the highest I went like… 60 story building." You answered self-consciously. Nuada raised a brow of bewilderment.

"Only 60 story?" He repeated confused. "Forgive my bluntness, but I believed you could go higher since your wings look strong."

"I might be." You said with a shrug.

"Might be?"

"Well, I never really went any higher than 60 stories." You looked around to make sure they were alone before whispering. "I'm actually scared to go higher."

"Why is that?" Asked Nuada in bewilderment.

"I'm just afraid that something might go wrong." You answered. "What if I went too high that I can't breathe anymore and lose consciousness and fall to my death, what if my wings got tired and cramped and caused me to fall to my death, or what if I got high enough that-"

"Bunch of human hunters would mistake you for a bird and shot you down to your death?" Said Nuada with a smirk finding (Y/n)'s imagination amusing.

"No, that would be a silly thought." She retorted before continuing. "I was going to say, that I would accidentally be pulled into a plane's engine without me being able to prevent it.

Nuada looked at her with wide eyes of amazement before bursting into laughter.

"Why are you laughing!?" (Y/n) exclaimed with a bright red face, Nuada continued laughing.

Nuada agreed to keep her secret on the condition of allowing him to help her get over her fear, which she reluctantly agreed to. When the weather was clear they would go outside where she would try and fly a bit higher, she would get scared after a few meters away from what she was used to but with practice, she is getting used to it. Of course, flying isn't the only thing he was teaching her. In the training room, he would teach her hand in hand combat and that she should not just depend on her wings. One day she came forward and asked him to teach her how to fight with weapons specifically with sword…that she already has.

"Tell me again how did you obtain such a weapon." Said Nuada as he stared at the sword in her hands that he dared not to touch, for even if it was naked to the human eyes he could sense the holy aura around it.

"It was found centuries by humans who passed it from one generation to the other, then from and organization to the other until it was settling beneath the Vatican vault." She explained. "I remember that we needed further information about a monster we were after, and such information can only be found in the Vatican. It was one of my first missions outside the country, Professor Broom is the one who insisted to take me along with them in hopes that by seeing me 'An Angel' that they would be a bit lenient on us, of course, Hellboy was forbidden to go along with us, so it was just me, the professor and a few protection agents…. I remember that while the professor was looking into the documents I felt a pull towards a locked room that to this day I still don’t know how did I get into without alarming anyone, all I remember is one moment I was standing on one side watching the professor work and then suddenly I was holding the sword in my hand while Vatican security was pointing a gun at me to let the sword go."

Nuada watched her closely as she told the story, her eyes shone slightly as she stared down at her sword.

"And what convinced them to let you keep it?" Asked Nuada pulling her out of her thoughts.

"It was the Pope." She continued. "He said that the sword found its owner. I still don't understand. Of course, there were a lot who objected on letting me keep the word, but the Pope's words were final."

"Does anyone know where the sword came from?"

"They don't know exactly where, each one just said a different story." She sheathed her sword back to her side. "But the one I follow was the one Professor broom told me, That millenniums ago, in the war between Lucifer and god, that an Angel must have lost their weapon causing it to fall on earth…. I'm still skeptical about it but I think the story sounds really cool!"

Nuada just stayed silenced and nodded at her.

Everything was going well for Nuada. Manning trusted him more which allowed him more freedom to even walk outside the building unsupervised, He got to know Abraham more for his sister's sake, and even his relationship with Red become of a friendly rivalry rather than pure trust and distrust, and even humans around him started to become less tense around him, going as far as greeting him in the halls when they saw him or ask him about her day. Everything was going well…until Manning called for an emergency meeting that everyone including the paranormal agents had to be present in it.

"His name is Hugo." Said Abraham as he presented the few blurry pictures they were able to catch on the digital screen.

The moment he uttered the name Nuada could feel his blood grow cold and his heartbeat slightly rise with nervousness. He did his best not to show it. He would be lying to say that he didn't expect to hear about the gargoyle again, but part of him still hoped that the beast would follow his advice and disappear for a few centuries before striking again. The prince tried to ignore the bang of guilt he felt when remembering his first encounter with Hugo and how he let him go. His eyes looked to (Y/n) who was concentrating on whatever Abraham was saying with a serious look in her eyes while her hand rests on her sword, ready to fight. Aside from guilt now he also felt ashamed because he deceived her. The Elven prince stared back into the screen trying to mask his true feeling with a nonchalant stare.

"We found the Gargoyle Coven and asked them about if any one of their members went rouge and they confirmed that Hugo was one of them, that he spent centuries complaining about the humans and even refusing to protect them from harm when they saw them in danger." A few murmurs were filling the room but were quieted down as he continued. "They cast him out of the coven after he not only witnessed the death of an innocent human family but helped the culprit escape."

"How horrible." Said Nuala with a sorrowful look. "What kind of creature would allow such a thing."

Nuada averted his eyes with shame from his sister, looking down at his weapon which he refused to raise against the gargoyle. He was now part of such a crime because he too let the beast flee undetected.

"Listen, we still don't know what is his weakness since every book we had said that gargoyles are invisible…" Said Red earning everyone's attention. "Except against one thing and its sunlight, when it touches them they turn to stone, it still doesn't mean they are dead, they just become immobile until nightfall. So our best option is to find him, tie him down until sunrise, and when he turns to stone we break him to pieces!"

When he said the last part he slammed his stone fist against the table breaking it.

"…Oops…" He said as he took a step back.

"You know Red.." Called (Y/n). "I was really admiring your plan, that you finally said something that didn't involve shooting something down, but then you go and do this."

Her remark made the people in the room laugh or giggle, except Nuada who was trying to figure out what to do and how. Because if they did manage to catch the beast he will blurb out that he had helped him escape, which will lose him to lose everything he has now. Respect, Trust, and loyalty. The humans would probably lock him back with no hope of a second chance, his sister would look at him with disgust… and (Y/n) would never want to be near him again.

No, he needed to do something and fast.

---

"What is troubling you brother?" Asked Nuala as she entered his room.

"Nothing is troubling me." He lied skillfully.

He was in the middle of preparing for leaving with the others to look for the gargoyle. They had been informed of a large group of humans going missing around a specific area in the city so they planned to make different search parties each one lead by either Hellboy, Abraham, (Y/n), or him. His plan however was simple, slowly separate from the human group, search for a possible lead to Hugo, when he finds the Gargoyle he will convince him to leave the city. Nuala's eyes narrowed at her brother, who still has his back to her.

"I sensed how agitated you were during the meeting." She said with her arms crossed. Nuada paused for a moment before continuing his work.

"It was just the fact that I have to work with humans." He lied swiftly but Nuala didn't believe him.

"Brother…" She called timidly, he just hummed in response. "Did you do something you shouldn't have done?"

Nuala came forward to place her hand on her brother's shoulder in hopes of learning what he was hiding, but Nuada dodged her hand, which fell in mid-air. His sister froze when she saw the harsh glare he gave her.

"You are my sister, and I love you dearly… But…" He growled. "If you tried to read my mind again without permission, I'm afraid I won't be so kind."

He then turns around to leave his stunned sister in his room, her eyes wide because Nuada rarely becomes angry with her, but also because his action reminded her of when they were little, he would avoid her like the plague whenever he does something he shouldn't, like stealing pastry goods or breaking something valuable, but they were adults now and for Nuada avoiding her touch let alone give her such a glare means that whatever he was hiding was big, which makes her very worried.

"What are you doing Brother." She said to no one in the empty room.

---

Nuada was wearing a cloak to blend easily with the shadows whenever a human was about to see him. From the device, in his ear, Nuada could hear the human agents talking among themselves whether it was a casual conversation or just stating what they were seeing as suspicious, only rarely did they talk to him, and when they do it is only to ask him if he is seeing anything. He had enough when he saw that in a couple of hours they will have to go back, so Nuada told the humans that he was going to search from the buildings surface to have a better look at the dark sky to catch the Gargoyle if he was by chance flying over them. they trusted him and just told him to inform him if he saw anything so they can inform the other groups and come to help him. Nuada shook the bit of guilt he felt at the blind trust that these humans have given him, and continued jumping form a building to the other, when he deemed himself far enough he used the fire escape to go back down and go somewhere a bit more open for the Gargoyle to fly in freely. Nuada had seen how big Hugo was, not to mention the length of his wings, knowing that he would need an open place to be able to continue his kidnapping easily, Nuada had led the humans to an area that was closed, to keep them away and safe.

He was walking on the side of the road looking up to the sky and keeping his senses sharp, to any movement near him. He kept walking until he reached a park. He was outside by the high iron fences, his eyes glanced to the lack of green graces, how the ground was filled with brown spots, most of the trees were dead or dying, even the children's ground was dirty and broken. A small bush of yellow flowers caught his attention, the flowers were growing on the small space between the iron fence bars, and they were slightly beaking out in the sidewalk. He didn't know why but he wanted to at least feel the small petals of the flowers, he knelt and reached for them but before his fingertips could someone called for him.

"Don't pick the flower!" A small voice of a little girl who was running towards him.

Nuada quickly took a step back and he tugged his hood down to assure that his face wasn't visible, but he still could see the little girl who was kneeling down to inspect the flowers. She then looked up to him.

"I'm sorry for scaring your mister." Her tiny voice said politely. He just nodded in response to show that it was alright.

Nuada watched as the little girl pulled out a worn-out plastic bottle which was filled with water. She opened the cap and proceeded to pour an amount that was obviously too much for the flower to absorb, but she did know that. When the bottle was half empty she stopped, and gave a satisfied nod at her work before closing the bottle again.

"There used to be a lot of flowers, but after last summer almost all of them died because no one was there to take care of them…" The little girl explained. "So I decided that do it myself!"

She gave Nuada, who was staring at her with interest, a big proud smile at what she just said. The prince couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips.

"What is your name little one?" He asked gently.

"My name is Sophie."

"Well, Sophie, I must say that what you are doing is admirable." He said sincerely. The girl titled her head.

"What does that mean?" she asked confused. He chuckled at her nativity.

"It means good." he explained as simply as he could. "What you are doing is very good."

The girl's eyes widened in realization before giggling, delighted to being praised by a stranger. He was still curious about something.

"Why are you watering them at night?" He asked.

"Oh, My mom grounded me today and I couldn't go and water them, so I sneaked out." She said as if she was caught doing something wrong… which she was.

"It is dangerous to go into the night this late you need to return home now." Nuada said in a soft yet stern manner. The Girl's smile dropped, replaced by a sad frown.

"B...But my flowers…"

"Your flowers can survive till morning and I am sure if you told your mother she will understand." He said. "But sneaking out late at night with no one knowing your location, now go home now, it's dangerous."

The little girl looked as if she was going to say something but refrained from doing so and she turned and ran away. Nuada as well turned on his heel to continue his search for the Gargoyle. However, Nuada failed to notice how the little girl stopped her track after she thought she was far enough from him, and when she saw him turn in a corner and disappear the little girl returned back to the park to tend to the rest of her flowers, disobeying the stranger's orders, believing that she will be safe enough to water a few more flowers.

Unaware of the glowing red eyes that are watching her from afar.

---

I hope all of you enjoyed this part and will look forward for more.

Reminder Requests are closed.

#prince nuada x reader #nuada x reader #hellboy the golden army #hellboy 2 the golden army

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maliby · 4 years

Text

Taste of Little | pjm (M)

↬ Pairing: Jimin x Fem Reader ↬ Story Genre: fluff with a spread of smut ↬ Warnings: explicit language, explicit sex scene, mentions of cheating, body insecurities ↬ Word count: 4.2K ↬ Summary: It was yours and your boyfriend Jimin’s first anniversary, aka the night you were finally going to have sex. Every thing was going fine until he simply leaves you high and dry; turns out Jimin is hiding a little secret that he’s too scared to tell you. Will your love for him be bigger than that?

For: The Intimacy Anthology Project

“Excuse me, are you Y/N?” A handsome stranger asked as he approached your table that was conveniently close to the exit so you could bolt if anything went wrong.

“Yes, I am, and you must be Jimin right?” You stated as you looked at the black hoody Jimin said he’d be wearing.

“Yes,” he smiled. His smile was so sweet and warm that you swore he could make a rockfall in love with him just with that smile alone.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

It’s been exactly one year today since you first met Jimin at the same cafe you were in right now - the ‘Aroma Mocha’.

At first, when your friend and roommate Jenna had set you up to go on a blind date with him you didn’t really want to go. The reason was that you had sworn off guys ever since your last relationship ended with your ex choking on another man’s dick on your couch wearing your lingerie. So, when your friend came up with the suggestion of getting back out there you had shut her down immediately. It wasn’t until you lost some stupid bet over Jenna banging an idol that you were “obliged” to go on a date with her coworker Jimin (something that now made you thank your lucky stars every day).

“You’re late mister,” you pointed to your watch as your handsome boyfriend walked in in a rush.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he said before tenderly kissing your lips. “Happy anniversary,” the smile on his lips reminded you of the very first time he smiled at you, in this very cafe, and, the very first time he ever made your heart race.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Namjoon was attempting to cook dinner for Jin and he almost sliced his finger off so I had to take him to the hospital,” he took off his denim jacket as he sat opposite you. He then picked up the menu and looked through it, searching for something to order.

“I swear Namjoon needs a babysitter, doesn’t he know he’s not allowed near sharp objects without supervision?”

“He wanted to surprise his boyfriend but, if you want my opinion, Jin’s lucky he wasn’t able to finish that monstrosity of a meal.”

You chuckled. “Well, Namjoon isn’t the only person who prepared a surprise for their boyfriend,” you smirked, amused with his curious expression.

“Oh yeah? What did my beautiful girlfriend prepare for me?”

“Well, if I told you now it wouldn’t really be a surprise now would it?” You reached over the table and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

Jimin and you hadn’t had sex yet. At first, it didn’t really bother you much because you were not one to rush things and, since Jimin was a little bit shy, you wanted to respect him but now you were starting to second guess yourself. Your inner voice kept whispering you thoughts like: “he doesn’t find you physically attractive” or “he’s cheating on you with other people”, something you admit may come from the trauma of your past relationship. So, with your 1st anniversary coming up you thought that it was now or never. You decided to shoot for the stars and bought an expensive lingerie set in your favourite colour, that you were wearing at that moment.

After your cafe date, you had arranged a little picnic-style dinner at the beach, where you watched the summer sunset together. After that, you went back to your place - since Jenna was out of town and Jimin lived with Namjoon - excused yourself to the bathroom (where you were currently at) and got ready to put your ultimate plane of seduction in action.

You took off your dress so you were just in lingerie, brushed your teeth twice, put some deodorant (just in case) and exited the bathroom, ready to put on a show.

“Hey baby, I poured you a glass of-” the pair of glasses he was holding shattered on your wooden floor, its content spilling all over to the nearest carpet, “-wine.”

You smiled. This was exactly the reaction you wanted, a reaction so good that immediately made you forget about all your doubts and fears - he wanted you.

“You like it? It’s just for you,” you teased as you gave a little twirl so he could fully observe you.

“You look...fuck.”

His jaw was locked, and his eyes scanned you up and down as you slowly started to shorten the distance between the two of you. As soon as you reached him though, he did something completely unexpected.

“Jimin, what are you doing?” You followed him to the kitchen where he had run to pick up napkins.

“We need to clean this up before it ruins your floor, or you hurt yourself,” he rambled on as he went back to the place of the accident. It was almost like he was trying to avoid you.

“Jimin,” you slouched down and grabbed the hand that was picking up the broken pieces of glass, making him stand up again, “I don’t give a fuck about the glass. I just want to have you.”

You placed your hands on his chubby cheeks and softly kissed him.

At first, it took him a while to relax and give in, but as soon as he started to kiss you back the intensity of the kiss immediately changed.

You guided him to your bedroom without ever breaking the kiss. While your hands were busy tugging at his brown locks his own were hoisting up your skirt so they could grab your ass.

“Take your shirt off,” you said after he threw you on the bed.

Your loins were on fire, they were burning for him, aching even. You had seen him shirtless before but this time you felt like you almost couldn’t control yourself. Your eyes examined his delicious chocolate abs and wondered what it would be like to kiss and lick them and to keep on going until you reached his cock.

You wanted to please him so badly, you wanted to hear him moan your name, you wanted to watch him come undone, you wanted to watch his facial features contort in pleasure because of you, you wanted it all.

He got on top of you and you both started making out once again.

“I want you so badly Jimin,” you said as you flipped your positions and got on top of him. He didn’t answer, but you could tell by the tiny moan that escaped his mouth and the way that he squeezed your thigh that he was excited.

First, you started to kiss his neck and then you made your way to his abs, running your tongue through the defined muscles. Your hands started working on the button of his jeans and you could feel him tense up. You thought it was probably just from the excitement or something, but as soon as your mouth started to descend towards his nether region he suddenly pushed you off and got up.

“Is everything alright?” You asked out of worry, being scared that you had crossed some sort of line for him.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I- I need to go,” he buttoned up his pants and put his shirt back on.

“Jimin, did I do something wrong?” Suddenly, your whole world dropped and all your insecurities came flushing back in at once, tears starting to build up in your eyes.

“No, it’s just...fuck, I need to leave,” he turned away from you, put his shoes back on and left, leaving you a heartbroken mess on your bed.

“Honey I’m hoooome!” Your roommate Jenna yelled as she returned home from her week-long vacation in her hometown.

Her loud voice woke you up, but it wasn’t like you were having a nice sound sleep; nightmares, as well as crippling thoughts of the man you loved cheating on you, had plagued you for the past week.

“What are you still doing sleeping at noon and why aren’t you coming out to great your roomy?” You heard her enter your room but remained immobile under the cocoon your sheet provided.

“Get out of bed you lazy ass!” Jenna dragged the sheet that was hiding you all the way back and exposed you to the sunlight coming from your previously shut blinds.

“Jennaaaaaa,” you whined while trying to reach for the sheet, but she had pulled it way too far.

“Y/N, it stinks and you look like shit! What the fuck happened while I was away?”

“Nothing,” you lied.

“What did Jimin do?”

“How did you know?”

Sometimes you were amazed at how well Jenna knew you but that’s what 3 years of living together can do for you.

“Because I left you alone in the house on your anniversary with Jimin and instead of smelling like sex it smells like death,” she pointed out, matter-of-factly with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sighed, burying your face back on your pillow.

“Y/N, what happened?” Jenna sat on the bed right next to you and pet your unwashed hair in a comforting gesture.

“I think Jimin is cheating on me.”

“Jimin?” You hummed. “The Park Jimin?” You hummed once more. “Y/N, I don’t believe Jimin would ever do that to you. First, because he’s not the cheating type, and second, because he loves you, like a lot. Like, I get diabetes just by the sweet way in which he looks at you-”

“We’ve never had sex,” you interrupted her train of thought as you finally lifted up your head from your pillow to look at her.

“What? Never?”

“Nope,” you popped your last syllable to give emphasis.

“Okay but, that doesn’t really mean anything. You know Jimin can be a little shy at times. Maybe-”

“I thought that too,” you interrupted her once more, “and because of that, I decided that, on the night of our anniversary, I would be the one to initiate it. So, after a lovely time on our date I brought him back here, excused myself to the bathroom and came back out wearing a lingerie set so hot he dropped the fucking wine glass on the floor. You should have seen the way he was looking at me, he totally wanted it. Then, after a heated make-out session, he suddenly stops everything and leaves.”

“What? Oh no...and you guys haven’t spoken since?”

“No. He tried calling, but I ignored him.”

“Y/N…”

“I know what you’re going to say, that I need to be a grown-up and talk it through, but what if he’s going to tell me that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What if he tells me that he’s gonna leave me for another one? Or that maybe he’s into dudes now.”

“Jimin is not your stinking ex,” Jenna pointed out. She had never really liked your ex-boyfriend.

“I know, but still…”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough! You are gonna get up, take a shower, because you fucking stink, and then, after we have lunch, we’re going to Jimin’s soccer game with the guys and you’re gonna talk to him there, am I clear?!”

“Yes, mom…”

“Aish these kids…” you heard her say as you made your way to the bathroom.

When both you and Jenna arrived at the game, the second half had already started. There weren’t many people there - since it was purely an amateur game between friends - and since you didn’t want him to see you just yet, you and Jenna just stood behind a tree, enjoying the shade it provided.

Usually, your boyfriend was the best player, scoring numerous goals that led his team to victory, but today it looked like he wasn’t even there; he’d missed almost all of his passes, accidentally scored an own goal and almost got himself kicked out of the game.

“I’ll be in the car waiting,” your friend told you as soon as the referee whistled to end the game, “take your time.”

“Thanks, Jenna.”

You gave her a small hug of gratitude and waited till everyone was in the locker room so you could wait outside for Jimin. What you weren’t expecting though, was to be able to listen to every little thing the boys were saying inside.

“What’s up with you today Jimin? If it wasn’t for Jungkook we could’ve had a way more embarrassing result than losing 3-2!” You recognized the voice of his roommate Namjoon - he clearly wasn’t happy.

“It’s nothing,” Jimin’s voice was so low that if he wasn’t right next to the window that was also next to you, you wouldn’t be able to hear his response.

“Did you finally have sex with Y/N?” A voice you recognized as his friend Hoseok asked, putting you in a state of hyperawareness. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, you could feel your blood pumping at a rapid pace and you could feel your hands shaking from the nerves. Whatever happened next, you would know the whole truth about you and Jimin. His answer would reveal everything. For sure if he was banging another girl his friends would know. Aren’t guys known for spilling out everything in the locker room?

His answer never came though.

“So that’s why you’re such a mess today. Did she react badly to the size of your dick and ran away?” Hoseok’s voice sounded again.

You were beyond shocked. Wherever you thought their conversation was going, you were clearly wrong. Never in a million years would you imagine that the reason Jimin acted the way he did was because of his insecurities.

“No...fuck. I-I was the one who ran away.”

“Shit man,” Hoseok answered, his voice getting closer to where you were standing, probably coming closer to comfort Jimin.

“Now she’s not answering my texts or calls, I’m scared I screwed it up forever,” he sighed.

“Jimin, just talk to her. Y/N loves you, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Namjoon reasoned.

“And what if she doesn’t want to be with me because I can’t please her like a normal guy?”

You turned around and left for the car, not being able to hear more.

Of all the times you had imagined the reasons why you hadn’t had sex yet, never once had crossed your mind that that reason was the size of his penis. Of all the times you felt insecure about yourself, never once had crossed your mind that the man you loved was the one feeling insecure. For all of that, you felt like a piece of shit; for pressuring him, for doubting him, for everything.

You wanted to tell him then and there that you loved him more than anything and that you didn’t care about the size of his penis, but most of all, you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for pressuring him.

That same night you wanted to surprise Jimin and apologize to him. So, after texting his roommate explaining everything that had happened that afternoon and asking if you could come by, he promptly told you that he’d gladly go on a date with his boyfriend to leave you two alone. Thus, when dinner time came and Namjoon left, you picked up a couple of pizzas, a bottle of wine, and went to Jimin’s place.

You knocked on his door and at first, he didn’t answer, but after insisting once more he finally opened the door.

“Namjoon I swear I’m gonna nail the keys to your hands- Y/N.” The way in which Jimin was looking at you right now reminded you so much of a lost puppy that you just wanted to drop everything and hug him tight.

“I thought we should talk. I brought pizza and wine.” Jimin stood in front of you with his mouth agape, not saying anything. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside to let you through and you walked to the kitchen to place the pizzas and the wine on the table.

“Namjoon just left-”

“I know, he offered to once I told him I was coming,” you put the food on the table and turned to him.

“Y/N... I’m so sorry I left the other day. It’s nothing to do with you, I love you. It’s just…”

“Jimin, I know.” You grabbed his hand to comfort him.

“Y-you know?”

He looked so adorable when he was confused. You looked at the way he wide opened his eyes and you just melted inside.

“I went to see you play today and, at the end of the game, I waited for you outside the locker room so we could talk and I heard everything you guys said.”

“You heard? So, you know? Fuck, I’m so sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you it was just-” You kissed him.

“Jimin, I don’t care that you have a small penis. You could have a wind chime for a penis and I wouldn’t mind, you know why? Because I love you with all my heart.” You placed your hands on his chubby cheeks in a tender gesture and ran your thumbs over his skin.

“I’m so sorry I put that kind of pressure on you. I should’ve known that you weren’t feeling it and-”

“Wasn’t feeling it? Fuck Y/N, do you know how much I wanted you at that moment? Do you know that you almost ended me when you came out of the bathroom looking like that? Trust me when I say that leaving you that night was hard as fuck and also, something I’ve regretted ever since.”

After soulfully looking into each other's eyes you embraced one another. You nuzzled your head in his neck and just stood there smelling his Hugo Boss perfume. The hug was a healing one, like all that you’ve been through for the past week had just been erased by his strong arms.

Jimin pulled back from the hug so his lips could meet yours, passion flowing right through you. The kiss quickly got more heated as his hands started wandering all over your body, making the temperature rise.

“Baby,” you pulled away and looked right at his glazed eyes, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-”

“I want to.” He placed a soft kiss on your lips and led you to his bedroom where he started to remove his t-shirt, showing you his glorious abs.

Not wanting him to feel left out, and to give him some type of security, you also started to remove your shirt, following it up with the rest of your outfit until you were completely naked on his bed.

“I am so lucky,” he stated as he observed your naked body on his bed.

His half-naked body soon was on top of yours, his mouth worshipping your skin with sweet and tender kisses. He started at the neck, moved through your chest (teasing your nipple a little bit with his tongue), down your stomach and straight to your dripping centre.

“You’re so beautiful,” his eyes were fixated on yours as he licked your pussy, paying special attention to your small nub.

This was the first time Jimin was eating you out, the two of you only having gone to second base. From all the times you envisioned his head between your legs you had to admit you only imagined the best; Jimin was by far the best kisser you’ve had, not only because of those luscious lips of his but also because he had a very skilful tongue that he knew how to use in just the right amount. So, to say that he exceeded your expectations was putting it lightly. He was fucking knocking your metaphorical socks off.

“Fuck Jimin, just like that.” The way his wet tongue was circling your clit made you grab a handful of his dark brown locks so he could get even closer to you.

You were getting in such a euphoric state that you almost felt like something was taking over you; especially when he inserted a finger inside you. One minute you were biting your lip as hard as you could, the other you were almost pulling out his bedspread and in the next you were massaging your breasts to enhance your pleasure; an act that, in tandem, made you cum on your boyfriend’s mouth as you screamed his name.

“You were so good at that baby,” he climbed back up on top of you and you pulled him in for a quick kiss, the taste of your juices being all over his lips, “that was the best oral sex I’ve ever had.”

“Well, you know. I needed to get good at that since, you know…”

Your heart completely dropped, not thinking about the possible implications of your words. You felt so bad for him, you wish you could make all of this go away for him.

“Baby, don’t say that,” you placed your hand on his cheek, “size doesn’t really matter. What matters is the love we feel for each other and I love you so much.” You two kissed once more demonstrating your love for one another.

“Do you trust me?” You gently asked him.

“I do, with all my heart.”

You switched places with him, this time you being the one on top, and gently pulled his sweatpants down. Then, you looked at him once more, waiting for his approval, and once he gave you a nod you pulled down his black underwear revealing his hard dick.

It wasn’t that bad. You honestly were picturing something way smaller than what was in front of you - something more like a finger - but as you looked at it and saw that it still had a good girth you were kind of relieved.

You looked at him, saw his concerned look, gave him a smile, grabbed his penis and gave it a gentle kiss. Jimin whimpered at the contact and you teased him further by giving it a series of licks.

“Please baby, don’t tease me, it’s...been a while.”

“I’m sorry,” you weren’t also in the mood for games, but you just couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Do you have a condom?”

“Here,” he moved to reach the top drawer of his bedside table and removed a pack of condoms. He opened the box, ripped out one of the foils and handed it to you.

You put his cock in your mouth, giving it a couple of sucks, for a last bit of teasing and rolled the condom on his dick. You then moved so your core would be right on top of his length and rubbed his tip back and forth through your folds before sliding it right inside of you.

“Hmm,” you both moaned in unison.

His dick felt different than the others you had experienced. It didn’t fill you to the brim, but it still felt good. Maybe to other girls, it wouldn’t be ideal, but to you, it was more than enough.

The way you two were making love to each other, the sweet kisses, the intense stares, the moaning of each other’s names, everything was more than perfect and you could honestly say you never felt more connected to a person in your entire life. It didn’t even matter to you the number of times he slipped off of you during sex, it just mattered that you were with him.

Jimin was near his climax and you could tell he was trying to hold it in as much as possible because you were still a bit far from it. But, out of nowhere, Jimin started rubbing your clit, giving you the edge you needed to finally come undone and make him release inside of you.

You remained in each other’s arms for a while, just panting and enjoying each other’s embrace, until Jimin pulled himself out of you and went to the bathroom to discard his condom. When he returned and lay right next to you, you couldn’t help but notice the nervous look on his face.

“Baby, it was fine,” you assured him.

“Yeah, but it kept falling out and I had to help you get there.”

“So?” You popped yourself on your elbow to get a better look of his face. “It matters way more to me that you did everything in your power to make me cum than if I could cum by your dick alone. Trust me, most women can’t even cum with sex alone.”

“So...it was good?” His puppy dog eyes were seriously killing you inside.

“Yes,” you kissed his lips as he started smiling, relief washing over his face, “it was good.”

“I love you so much,” he professed his love to you and you could say that it was making your heart explode.

“I love you too,” now he was the one kissing you and you wished for nothing more than to get lost in his lips for the whole day but the sound of your stomach growling made you come back to reality.

“Somebody’s hungry,” he booped your nose in an adorable gesture, “how about we leave this bed and go devour those pizzas?”

“Way ahead of you.”

a/n: I was inspired to do this fic due to the amounts of “huge dick” fics out there. Don’t get me wrong, I love huge dicks lmao, but I feel like it’s healthy to, once in a while, bring a small peen to the equation (or maybe even a freaking normal size). Girls and boys, don’t expect everyone to have huge dicks, it’s ok if they don’t <3

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allycryz · 3 years

Note

Nsfw prompt: “Oh my god. Did we just break the bed?” for the ot6 :3

Alright, here it folks. Urianger gets spoiled, six people are very cute, a bed gets broken. Also pushed myself to write this in past tense since I haven’t done it in a while.

Rated E for Eggsplicit, is honestly pretty PWP but there’s feelings and fluff in there

“I beg thy forgiveness.” Urianger frowned at the piles of books crowding his room. His hands stroked light upon the spines, tracing letters, "I am certain thy book was here but it seems not."

“It’s alright.” Nerys said from her perch on his bed. The thin mattress creaked beneath her weight, swaying with each minute gesture. "I know you'll find it. Come sit with me."

He looked up with a hand caught in his silver locks and mouth curled into a frown. Twas not often he wore his consternation so openly and it was...quite charming. Not least of which because of the subtle pouting of his full lips. (She hoped he was not so upset as to halt her plans.)

“Nay, I shall keep searching.”

“Uri.” She patted the space beside her. “Please?”

"I am unable to refuse such an invitation twice." Urianger moved like a dancer, once explaining that his poise and posture came from learning at the elbow of Louisoix Leveilleur. Nerys mostly believed it, seeing all the similarities in how he and the twins held themselves. And yet–she was convinced it was not the whole of the story.

He sank to his knees before her, rather than where she indicated. “It has been some time since I relaxed by thy side.”

Nerys stroked over his noble brow, nails scratching light into his scalp. “Far too long. Though this is not by my side.”

“But how else shall I do this?” He brought her hand up, leaving reverent kisses upon her fingertips. As always it made her breath catch, whether alone or in the company of their lovers.

They were not often alone, just the two of them. (And with what she planned, it would not be this way long.) There was so much she had yet to discover about him, the newest of her lovers. The sinuous sway of his hips was but one coin from a well-buried, well-protected treasure chest of knowledge.

But there were facets of him that were extensions of the relationship they already had; as her comrade, her friend, partner of her partners. He was always kind and respectful, as willing to listen as to teach. That impish sense of humor he kept beneath it all–she had found that long before she took him as hers.

Here was one discovery that still made her tremble: the way he looked at her as if she was a treasure worth worshipping.

Another: the secretive smile upon his lips before he struck. Nerys was a moment forewarned by it before he rose to kiss her.

Still another: how good a kisser he was. She was overwhelmed enough that one moment his lips were on hers, the next she was beneath him. The bed groaned and swayed with their movements, an anchor in the swirling sea of his presence.

Besides being noisy, the bed was on the small side. Not really what she expected. Urianger could live like a monk, subsisting on water and archon loaf with naught but a candle for luxury. But with the way he luxuriated in Haurche’s sumptuous bed or the raptures on his face when he shopped for fine clothes…

Nerys had assumed he was only a hermit when his studies called, not as a matter of course.

“We need to get you a new bed.” She murmured as he unfastened her already half-open shirt. His eyes had gone to the partly revealed breastband since her arrival. “You’ve barely any room for yourself.”

"No need, my lady. I seldom sleep here--indeed, I have moved most of my possessions to Haurchefant's and Thancred's rooms."

“Yes but-” Nerys unclasped the golden torque about his neck. "You have been in the Sands for a week now. And I'm sure this won't be the last time you have to stay here."

"Would it comfort thee…" His words became a moan as her hands worked into his taut shoulders and nape. Were he able to, he might purr under her ministrations.

“Yes?”

"I often avail myself...of the cot in the archives."

“Uri.” She clucked her tongue. As if he and their lovers didn’t admonish her for various bad habits ranging from overextending herself to less-than-prudent jumps down cliffsides.

Today is not about me though.

“Once again, I must beg thy gracious pardon.” He lowered his cheek to her chest, nuzzling against the swell of breast even as his hands eased down the breastband. His long fingers kneaded the sides of her chest slow and gentle. “In penance, I shall serve thee faithfully all afternoon and into the evening.”

Desire coiled in her belly. One word from her and Urianger would worship her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Even now, his practiced healer’s touch found her pains and soothed them away. But she came here with an agenda and she must not forget it, even-

Her mouth fell open with a moan as he took handfuls of her chest, squeezing with gentle strength. That impish gleam was in his eyes when he looked down.

“Will you…” She swallowed. “Lie on your back for me?”

“If that is thy wish…” He flipped them easily, settling her atop him. Hands slid over her bottom and squeezed. “Dost thou wish for control today?”

“Just a shred.”

His lips caught hers as she slithered down, meeting the barest resistance before he let go with a chuckle. Nerys gave him a look and received only a smile in reply.

According to Haurche, the chiton was far easier to deal with than his scholar’s robes. She never had the pleasure of unwrapping him from his old mode of dress. Piece by piece, I took him apart like a present before taking him apart as a lover might do. There is nothing quite like a reveal, my heart.

That conversation ended with Haurche performing his own slow striptease. Nerys drifted from the fond memory to the present, to the bunch of fabric now at Urianger’s waist and the silken black smalls she unveiled beneath. His cock strained against the taut fabric, twitching at the glide of her hand.

"Wilt thou let me return whatever favors thou dispenses?" His voice dropped to low and rumbly and then to a groan as she rubbed her cheek upon his clothed cock.

“I’ll think about it...You certainly proved your tongue’s prowess when we were last together.”

Urianger sighed, either from her touches or the memory of nine days ago–him and her and Y’shtola between them. “I-I didst not sup upon thy nectar then…”

She squeezed his thigh. “No but I saw you send ‘Shtola into the heavens.”

“Where she doth belong, crowned in stars and cloaked in moonlight.” His words then turned to garbles and gasps as she mouthed against the fabric. Traced her tongue over the solid outline of his shaft and inhaled his musk.

“And what shall be her throne?” Nerys hummed against him. His hand found purchase in her hair and tugged. Heat kindled between her legs at the touch, more when he did it again. Sitting up so she could see the intent in his eyes.

“Thy visage is the most glorious sight of all…” He groaned, digging filed-down nails into her scalp until she trembled. “What better seat for our beloved than that?”

“Oh,” she breathed. It had taken him no time to master her needs and wants. Had he not watched her plenty, with a lover or two or three between them? And you really are that easy.

Nerys would not be the only one losing sense and control. Her thumbs hooked beneath his smalls to ease them down, freeing his erect length from their confines. She squeezed his thighs as her tongue dragged up his shaft, finding the sensitive ridge under his head.

“N-nerys-” he gasps, reaching for the white cotton sheets and grabbing them by the fistful. “I-I should have better control, than to be driven so wild so quickly.”

She pulled off of him with a soft pop of sound. "You've been locked away in here for a week with only your hand to relieve you. No wonder you're sensitive."

“I shall...endeavor to satisfy thee. Thou need not worry-”

The door opening startled her, even though it was Phase Two of her plan coming to fruition. Urianger froze beneath her before he chuckled, the sound as much sigh as it was mirthful. “My lady, didst thou invite them and not tell me?”

“Surprise.” She grinned and turned her head. Y’shtola and Thancred watched them with twin expressions of pleasure. “I hope this is alright?”

Urianger groaned. "I wouldst never turn away those I love so dearly. And they look upon me as if I am a feast laid out for their sampling."

“Ha,” Thancred snorted. "Seems like Nerys has the feasting part well in hand."

Y’shtola smiled, turning her back towards Thancred while keeping her eyes upon them. He dutifully took care of the hooks at her nape, easing the scarlet and gray dress down her shoulders. She arched an eyebrow at the pair on the bed. “Well? Don’t stop on our account.”

Nerys gave the slightest hint of her intentions–a little secret smirk she’d learned at his feet–before swallowing him down. Breathing with purpose through her nose to take him deep, deeper, deeper still. Gods but Elezen were thick, and the reduced air goaded her as much as the eyes upon her.

The gaze of the world was ever upon her in ways that made her anxious, embarrassed, fearful. But to simply put on a show for others, to stir their passion? That was something Nerys loved. No one expected too much of her besides the occasional fling, and those were more and more rare these days. There was no time to adventure in Eorzea’s bedrooms as she once had.

How lucky, that her lovers liked to watch as much as she liked to perform, while duty kept her from the dark corners of taverns and rolls in the hay.

Urianger laid back, forearm pressed against his brow. Lowered it so he might press his fist to his mouth. Nerys hummed around him, sinking further onto him until she could take no more. It was not enough, not yet, but he moaned all the same.

The heat of Thancred’s bare skin pressed against her back and his palms curled over her breasts. Toyed with them as his lips trailed over her spine. “You need a bigger bed, Uri.”

His response was a muffled groan about clenched knuckles. Y’shtola crawled onto the bed, over him with teasing touches, and stretched her small frame between him and the wall. She seized his wrist, dragging it to lips. “Ah ah. How will she know she’s doing a good job? Let her hear you.”

“Sh-shtola-” Urianger shuddered with the full force of his body as Thancred’s hand slipped down his stomach, fondling his sack. Nerys began to lift her head, found Thancred pressing her back down.

“Good,” said Y’shtola with an approving nod. “Keep her there a moment, Thancred. Urianger–there is no one to overhear you. So I had best hear your response.”

They watched as Urianger opened his mouth, his wordless cries filling the room with their sweet, penitent notes. His reward was another fondle, another suck; Y’shtola petting his hair.

“Nerys is far too overdressed for this.” Thancred said, drawing her up at last.

“And so is he,” Y’shtola agreed before she caught Urianger’s chin and kissed him. The man made a desperate noise before giving himself over to his passion. Nine days ago, Nerys watched him do the same as he filled Y’shtola, as Nerys held her close. Then he’d had the presence of mind to extol her virtues between breathless kisses.

The same passion is clear in his half-lidded eyes and fervent mouth. Even if he is now in a place beyond poetry.

“You should have a taste too,” Nerys gasped, writhing against Thancred’s purposeful touch over her trousers. For his complaint about her state of dress, he was taking advantage of the friction of cloth against her skin.

“Do you think so? I think that if we both suck him, he’s liable to pop.”

“What about all his rings?”

“They’re in my quarters,” Thancred laughed against her ear. “Besides, that’s not a guarantee he’ll be able to hold off-”

“I swear to thee.” Urianger licked his lips, eyes flickering from Nerys’ mouth to Y’shtola’s hands kneading his chest to whatever expression Thancred made. "If thou drives me to completion, I shall return the favor in kind. Thou...thou should not go unsatisfied because of my folly."

“Yes, definitely folly to show us how bad you want us.” Thancred snorted. “Uri, it’s okay to come. We’re not going anywhere.”

“True enough.” Y’shtola nipped at his jaw when he tried to rise. “I was going to make him hold off but that might be cruel…”

“I’m disappointed, darling.” The new voice sent shivers through Nerys. Thancred’s steady grip kept her from turning to greet him. “It’s ever so entertaining when you’re cruel to our lovers.”

He is not due quite yet… Not that she minded. Hopefully, in his impatience he remembered to bring-

“Surely,” Haurchefant said with a laugh. “You might magick up a way to help him hold back? As all his rings are in Mor Dhona, and not always reliable.”

“That will cost you, my Lord Emissary.”

“Tell me then, O Great and Powerful Sorcerer: how much for such a device, snapping away everyone’s clothes, and your cock in my mouth later?”

Hades’ laugh was a clear ringing sound that warmed Nerys’ already heated flesh. He was often playful, this ancient lover of theirs. Seldom was he so open as she heard in the notes of his mirth, playing in harmony with Haurchefant’s chuckles. Urianger met her gaze, his smile softening even more the warm mush her heart turned into. And then he gasped as Thancred ran a teasing hand up his length and Y’shtola bit down on his shoulder.

A snap and her clothes disappeared, along with the bunched up chiton and the black smalls shoved about Urianger’s knees. Thancred’s warm skin pressed against hers–chest to her spine, thighs to the backs of her legs, his unclothed cock hard against her rear. Before them, a ring of black and purple aether pulsed at the base of Urianger’s cock.

She put a hand to it. It felt solid but as it shimmered, she saw flashes of the skin beneath. Hades had all manner of aether tricks to aid in the bedroom. This was one she hadn’t seen before.

He knelt on the floor beside the bed as bare as everyone else. His hand slid past her a moment, she caught the motion of him patting Thancred’s cheek. Then his fingers were on her chin, tilting it up for him to brush lips against lips. She moved to deepen the contact and he pulled back, clucking his tongue. “Ah ah, your mouth is destined elsewhere.”

“One kiss won’t hurt.” Nerys squirmed against Thancred’s hold but today, he was willing to cooperate with Hades. He held her fast and pressed light kisses down the line of her neck.

“I wonder. Now, my dear–how long should we make our scholar squirm?”

“Oh not too long. Remember why we’re here after all.” Urianger looked up at that with raw curiosity in his gaze.

“Please, the man loves when we deny him.” Hades rose then to perch on the edge of the bed with his torso turned towards Urianger’s face. His bare fingers ran over his chest till they found the gold hoops in his nipples. A small tug set Urianger’s face and neck red with pleasure. “Does that feel good then?”

"L-lovely,” groaned Urianger. "My lady Nerys...didst thou c-conspire against me?"

She laughed. Haurchefant made himself known then with his fingers guiding her limbs, positioning Thancred alongside her. He caressed them both while they obeyed onto their hands and knees, arms and shoulders against each other. "You've been holed up here for days. I thought you were due a respite."

"And I thought you deserved a little punishment as well." Hades added, thumb circling the stiffening nipple. "Depriving us for days."

"H-ha." Urianger quirked a brow. "Couldst thou not visit me whenever thou desires, Hades? I did not bar my door to thee."

"Impudent man." Hades leaned forward to kiss him as Y’shtola tugged at his silver locks.

A hand pressed against her nape as she saw another do the same to Thancred. Haurchefant must have removed his rings prior to his arrival. She could not feel the familiar press of metal or see his signet contrasted with Thancred’s white locks. Even with his fingers bare, with him standing behind them, she would have known his touch without ever having to see them.

It was that way with all of them now. Even Urianger. She had learned the feel of him that first night with Thancred between them and his touch reaching behind her for Haurchefant, caressing her arm lightly as she shook with the overwhelming pleasure of that moment.

“Ladies first,” Thancred purred when their eyes were level with the ring.

Nerys laughed, from the remark, from the surge of joy rushing through her. She licked a stripe up the thick shaft. Thancred did the same, meeting her with an open-mouth kiss that had the benefit of teasing against Urianger. They pushed each other–matching every swirl, lick, and suck; triumphant when one coaxed a loud moan or gasp. It was a heady competition, egged on by Haurchefant stroking her spine and praising them both.

“You two are exquisite,” Haurchefant sighed as his hands drew away. Fingertips dragged over her skin until she felt them dip between her thighs, heard Thancred groan aloud. Nerys half-expected the mattress to dip with Haurchefant’s weight but instead he drew her back. She had to stretch her long torso to keep her mouth against Urianger.

He accommodated and leaned forward, bracing hands on either side of her. “Dearest Thancred, you will help her for this next part? She is radiant when she takes a cock completely.”

“Hmm…” A raised eyebrow. “Alright Haurche. Long as you promise to give me something nice later. No fair if only Hades gets your mouth tonight.”

“My darling boy…” Hades raised his head and Urianger whimpered at the loss. “Since when are you the arbiter of what is fair or not?”

“You hush.”

“If you want to stop my mouth, you need to be far more creative.”

“Both of you hush,” said Y’shtola. Her voice trembled as Urianger suckled at her chest but still resounded with the underlying core of iron. “You’ll get your turns later, if you’re good.”

“Yes ‘Shtola,” said Thancred with a laugh. He curled a hand over Nerys’ nape and helped her ease back onto Urianger. Behind them Haurchefant praised their obedience while the head of his cock notched against her folds.

Urianger was a writhing mess beneath them and it was beautiful. The disheveled state of his hair; the blossom of red suffusing his upper body; the sighs they pulled from him; the pattern of bites on his neck from Y’shtola and on his torso from Hades. And him, impossibly hard and impossibly large in her mouth as Thancred dragged her up and down and Haurchefant sank into her.

Their eyes met, his mouth worked. She reached forward though it could upset her balance. Brushed fingertips against his and then seized his hand. His hips canted upwards and it was almost too much with him so lost in sensation. Somehow, she managed to take him all the same.

His trembling lips tried again before they managed a word in the babble of whimpers and sobs. “Please...please…”

Nerys answered with her eyes while her hand reached out again, brushing against Hades’ side. Haurchefant picked up her pace and she all but collapsed. It was then Hades turned his amused look at her and the hand desperately groping at his hip.

“May I help you?”

Her eyes swept downward. She could not see the ring just then–Thancred pressed her down so far that her eyes could see only golden skin and silver, curling hair. Haurchefant sighed behind her. “What a good girl, taking him all the way. You’re doing beautifully, my heart.”

“I wonder…” Hades voice floated above her. “What could she be trying to say? Have you any notion, ser?”

“I am not a betting man-” (Thancred’s derisive snort at that became a groan.) “But perhaps she would like to be dear Uri’s angel of mercy.”

“Certainly not. Our ferocious hero?”

“Our compassionate hero.” Haurchefant’s hand joined Thancred’s and brought her up. Hades met her pleading gaze with a sigh and an incongruously soft kiss to her forehead.

“If you insist, dear.” The ring disappeared and they were all lost.

Haurchefant and Thancred pushed her down, Urianger bucked upward. Hades leaned entirely on the bed, bare chest against their scholar as he kissed him with Y’shtola dragging her nails down his back.

“That’s it,” Haurche panted in her ear. “Help him finish, beloved, dearest, our Nerys-”

Urianger cried out as his hand reached for her-

Haurchefant knelt on the bed and filled her-

And as Urianger spilled into her mouth, the chorus of their raptures was overwritten by an earsplitting crack! There was the sensation of falling, of balance going horribly wrong as she slid backwards into Haurchefant and Hades into both of them. A strange sound escaped her mouth when the momentum and impact both caused Haurchefant to fill her and not entirely pleasantly.

She lifted her head and Urianger looked down at her. He had not sat up. His eyes were glazed with satisfaction even as realization pierced the fog of his climax.

“Oh my gods.” Nerys stared at the ramp they occupied. “Did we just break the bed?”

Shocked silence met her question. It was Urianger who broke it with low, barely concealed laughter. He slapped a hand over his mouth and his shoulders shook with the effort of not breaking. Behind her, Haurchefant chuckled into her ear as Hades scowled at them all. Y’shtola stretched out where she was. Thancred roared with laughter behind them on the floor.

“Th-thou didst tell me…” Urianger said, fighting to control his mirth. “That I was in need of a bigger bed.”

“And I was right!” She watched Hades vacate the space between them before squeezing Urianger’s thigh. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

In answer, Urianger sat up with care and eased himself down. His warm hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up to receive the brush of his mouth against hers. “That I am glad we have a Sorcerer of Eld to set us to rights.”

“Hm.” Hades dusted off his arms with great exaggeration and wounded dignity. The gleam in his pale gold eyes was the only clue he was not so piqued as he pretended. “Give me a moment. As today we are demanding favors before we do anything, I needs must calculate the price.”

“Do make haste, lovely man.” Haurchefant adjusted Nerys in his lap and the friction sent her shivering. “I would like to finish what I started.”

“If I may offer a suggestion…” Y’shtola stretched herself upwards and Nerys could not help watching the curve and rise of her bosom, the marks of lips and teeth upon the teak skin. She wrapped her arms about Urianger from behind and propped her chin upon his shoulder. “You could ask to give Nerys proper thanks for arranging all this.”

That twitch at the corners of her mouth spelled Nerys’ salvation and destruction. “Now wait a minute-”

“Brilliant as always,” Hades smirked. “While the guest of honor recovers, I would like a sampling of our event planner in exchange for my great and powerful magicks.”

“Deal!” Haurchefant said, lifting her up while the bed repaired itself with a rush of aether. He had to withdraw from her to do so but from the looks around her...she would not be empty for long. “Have a care with her, lest we break it again.”

“I have ensured it won’t tonight.” Hades stepped over and gathered her into his arms. Laid her back upon the mattress, sprawled upon Urianger’s lap. “And tomorrow we purchase Urianger a bigger, sturdier bed.”

“There, my lady.” Urianger grinned above her. “Thou shalt get thy way after all.”

“I usually do,” she said before Hades moved to have his way with her.

Not that she was complaining.

#lemon #ally writes #big heroic ot6 #nerys eluned #urianger augurelt #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul #emet-sellch #haurchefant greystone

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basicallywhiterice · 3 years

Text

on top of the world (dong sicheng/winwin)

pairing: sicheng/winwin x reader

genre: angst, fluff, flangst. friends to lovers, highschool!au, dancer!sicheng, spring break trip

summary: The fall to the ground doesn’t seem so daunting when you’re living on top of the world.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: cussing

a/n: if enough people get mad at me i’ll write a part 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

this can be read as a standalone, but it is part 1 in the on top of the world series. crossposted on ao3 here!

Chinatown, Washington, D.C., 7:01 p.m.

“Honest Abe? More like, honest babe,” Lucas hollers to Kun and no one in particular, drawing a few disgruntled looks from the pedestrians waiting for the walk signal to flash again. He winks at a man in a navy suit, who rolls his eyes and looks away. Yangyang reaches over for a high-five.

“Dude was 6′ 4″, of course he’s a babe,” Sicheng whistles, leaning behind Yangyang and craning his neck to steal glances at Kun’s phone.

To your right, Ningning flits around, snapping pictures of the street displays and assorted neon lights on the storefronts. You watch her alongside Giselle, who pops her bubblegum, periodically glancing at the traffic light at the bustling intersection. Standing shoulder to shoulder with you to your left, Kun rattles off a hodge-podge of facts about Abraham Lincoln and Ford’s Theatre, which you just passed by, from his phone screen to a faux-enthused Yangyang, who shakes Sicheng by the shoulders every time Kun reads a new fact. He occasionally gets pushed into Lucas’s side, rolling his eyes while doing little to hide the growing grin on his face.

“... and apparently they planned his assassination in the building the Wok n’ Roll restaurant we passed used to be,” Kun remarks.

“OH MY GOD SICHENG ISN’T THAT SO CRAZY?” Yangyang all but screams. “IT WAS IN THE WOK N’ ROLL!”

As you glance over fondly, your eyes linger on the orange hues and kaleidoscopic shadows the nearby “do not walk” signal spills over Sicheng’s face. After a moment, he looks away from Yangyang’s exaggerated bouncing. His gaze flits upwards, meeting your stolen glance with his own.

The world grinds to a halt beneath your feet when a strong gust of wind blows through your hair, propelling you into free fall into the depths of his eyes until Giselle tugs on your arm, pulling you back into the present.

She gestures toward the “walk” signal on the traffic light, and you fall in line with her quick footsteps as you stride across the crosswalk.

“We should go there later,” she suggests. “Try summoning Lincoln’s ghost or something.”

“The Wok n’ Roll?”

“Yeah. Do you think his ghost would have his top hat?”

“I thought ghosts were just spirits and didn’t take material possessions with them?”

“Yeah, but then every ghost would be naked, which would be hella inappropriate.”

Ningning overhears, skipping up to you and looping her arm through yours. “You have to prove the existence of ghosts and take them out to dinner before you get them naked, you pig.”

“I made yo momma sound like a ghost last night,” Lucas quips. “I skipped the ‘getting dinner’ part, though.”

“Goddamn,” Giselle exclaims as you burst into laughter, throwing jokes and jabs at each other for the rest of the trek to the ramen restaurant where you eat dinner.

Hilton Garden Inn, Washington, D.C., 9:13 p.m.

After helping Giselle and Ningning unpack, you knock on the communicating door between your hotel room and the boys’ in order to bother Kun.

Sicheng answers, moving aside so you can step across. Their room is surprisingly clean, although you chalk it up to the limited amount of time they had to unpack earlier today. Lucas sits at the desk in the corner near the window, hunched over his laptop while Yangyang peeks over his shoulder. You glimpse a few pictures of the Washington Monument on his screen before he scrolls down to other marble structures.

“Are you looking up other places to visit?” you ask him.

He glances up, cracking his neck before responding. “Yeah. I can’t find anything special that we don’t know about, though.”

“It’s boutta be lit,” Yanyang chimes in.

“Ayeee,” Lucas responds. They start aggressively patting each other on the back and arms, and you take that as your cue to leave before they wrestle you into whatever weird ritual they’re performing.

Turning, you see Sicheng flop down onto the bed closest to the windows where Kun lays, sprawled out. “Hey,” Kun greets, lifting his head from his pillows.

“Hey,” you reply, remembering the reason why you came to the room in the first place. “Oh yeah! I found a stop sign a few blocks from here on a decently busy street. It’ll take ten minutes to go there and back, tops.”

He groans. “I would love to go, but I just got a stomachache. Tell you what. Sicheng,” he says, propping himself up at a snail’s pace and clasping Sicheng’s shoulder, “you can accompany her there, right?”

“To a stop sign?” Sicheng asks, looking up from his phone.

“A hand-picked, top tier, magnificent stop sign,” you proclaim. “Whenever me and Kun travel, we always get a random passerby to take our picture in front of a stop sign like it’s a tourist attraction. Are you down for potential social awkwardness?”

The corner of Sicheng’s lips tugs up into a grin. “You know it. I’m not ruining your tradition with Kun, am I?” he asks, glancing sideways at Kun for confirmation.

Kun flops back down on the bed. “Nah. If I went right now, I’d probably ruin the tradition by shitting my pants there or something.”

Sicheng chuckles. “Promise? We could print out those pictures and mail them back to your parents like a postcard.”

“I like the way you think,” you say with a scheming smile, nodding at Sicheng before turning back to Kun. “Anyways, drink some warm water to help with your stomachache, maybe? What do you think caused it?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that trashcan pizza slice in the subway.” Sicheng reaches over and flicks his forehead. “Ow! I’m kidding! Why would you torment a sick man like this? Go away and take your pictures already.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask as Sicheng asks, “You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Worst comes to worst, I’ll take a Pepto-Bismol in fifteen minutes. Go and have fun.” He waves you off, grabbing a spare pillow and lightly smacking Sicheng with it.

“Fine, mom.” Sicheng stands, pocketing his phone. “You ready? I just need to put on my shoes.”

“Yeah.” As he walks over to the closet, you sneak a peek at your reflection through your phone screen. Fighting back a sudden bundle of nerves, you discreetly smooth your t-shirt down, running a hand through your hair. Kun wiggles his eyebrows when he notices, and you flip him off, silently warning him to stay quiet.

He doesn’t. “Have fun on your date with loverboy,” he whispers.

“Shut up.”

“After you leave, should I check out the pool?” he murmurs. “Lucas and Yangyang said they don’t feel like swimming tonight.”

“What, isn’t your stomach—”

“Oh my, would you look at the time? Off you go!” He shoos you away, almost standing up to push you away and laying back down before Sicheng can turn around. You’re almost impressed by how well he set you up.

Still, though. If Kun weren’t your best friend, you’d shove him into the hotel’s fountain.

H Street Northwest, Washington D.C., 9:40 p.m.

Half an hour later, you give up on the facade of collecting anti-tourist pictures after the third stop sign, stopping by the Chinatown Express to grab a bowl of noodles with roast duck to go. You walk for a few blocks before finding a bench to sit and split it at, slurping them up in an appreciative silence.

“Oh my god,” Sicheng intones around a mouthful of noodles. When you look over, his cheeks are puffed, an empty spoon descending to rest inside the soup container.

“You look like one of those baby birds eating scraps,” you giggle.

“I’m certainly skilled with chicks,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, then scoot closer to pick up a piece of roast duck. Your knees touch, but neither of you move away. “Do you think there’s a more advanced form of life than humans, like aliens, and they view us how we view animals?” you ask, resuming the conversation you had about the meaning of life before you sat down. “Like we don’t think birds could become self-aware, no matter how intelligent they are, so then we can’t achieve the alien version of self-awareness no matter how philosophical we get.”

“Good question. Uh, alien self-awareness would probably relate to the meaning of life or something, right? Or the secrets of the universe and breaking the laws of physics. And because they’re so big brained, they could control things with their minds and be enlightened with telekinesis. So hypothetically, if I were a wise, sagely alien,” he says, gently picking up your hand and laying it flat against his palm, “I could make my hand pass through yours if I had enough brainpower.”

His hand is warm, and you hope furiously that your palms aren’t sweating. “Was this another excuse to hold my hand?”

“Well, did it work?”

You raise your eyebrows and fail at biting back your smile. “You already know, you just want to hear me say it.”

He grins. “Then say it!”

“Yes, Sicheng, it worked.”

“Awesome.” He moves his right hand to pick up his spoon, briefly tugging your hand with him until he realizes. “Fuck. Sorry, I have to let go of your hand while I eat. Unless you wanna see me struggle with my left hand.”

“As much as I’d love to watch you do that, I feel like that’d be an insult to the rest of the noodles.”

When you finally remember to stand up and throw away the long-forgotten remnants of your food, he holds your hand carefully but firmly as you walk past the White House, and you imagine his hold on your heart must feel the same.

Lafayette Square, Washington, D.C., 11:16 p.m.

“Dance with me,” Sicheng pleads, pulling you under a streetlight. You nod, but your feet stay cemented on the brick-paved sidewalk.

“I don’t know how to.”

“That’s fine.” You place your hand in his outstretched one, and he lifts your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “No one’s around to judge, so just do whatever.”

“Wise words,” you deadpan, but you let his hand on your waist guide your swaying.

He’s right, though. After the initial awkwardness fades, you find that waltzing around isn’t so bad after all—especially when he twirls you around the pocket of light underneath the lamppost so gently it feels like you’re dancing on air.

And when he dips you as you throw your head back, laughing, you think you finally understand why his eyes light up every time he finishes a dance performance.

“Is this what you love about dancing?” you ask once you’ve come back up.

He nods, eyes closing briefly. “Partly. The grand choreographies are the showstoppers, but the simpler moments keep me sane.” His eyes flutter open. “I haven’t let anyone see me dance with such bad technique in a while. I’m usually not this bad, I promise.”

“I know,” you grin. “I saw you at the winter showcase. You were amazing.” Then you take a deep breath, and brace for the worst. “The lyrical piece you closed with was the one you used for your audition, right?”

“Yeah, I—yeah.”

Abruptly, he releases your hands and steps back. You allow yourself to feel a twinge of guilt for mentioning the elephant in the room before you steel yourself for the impending conversation.

“We should probably talk about that,” he says.

“We should. Do you want to walk around the National Mall? You said you liked it earlier today.”

“Sure.”

The walk is quiet enough for you to overthink. Sicheng got accepted by a dance studio in Korea, after months of submitting auditions and traveling back and forth between countries. He’s leaving soon, even if he says he’s still waiting to hear back from Juilliard and keeping his options open. You see it in the goodbyes he keeps subconsciously saying and the memories he drinks in like it’s his last chance to, and you’re terrified of what your life will look like without him.

You glance over at him periodically, and he seems to be lost in thought too, staring straight ahead down the well-lit path. His eyebrows furrow as you pass under a streetlight, and you wonder if you brought it up the wrong way.

You’re disappointed in the crude way you shoved the future into a perfectly happy moment, then mad that you’re disappointed. It was inevitable that you’d have to talk about what would come after graduation, and it was inevitable that he’d have to remove himself from your side to chase after his dreams. It’s a wonder he hasn’t pulled away already.

Stupid, you chide yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, loving so hard that your chest implodes from all the weight it carries, already drifting through the pangs of hurt and the wisps of melancholy bringing about a premature nostalgia.

“I’m really going to miss you next year,” Sicheng confesses out of the blue.

You glance up. His hands are shoved into his pants pockets, his eyes roaming over your face like he’s trying to remember all the secrets it hides.

You think you might always run back to him. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:33 p.m.

“So.”

“So,” you echo. “Have you looked at decisions yet?” It’s a pointless question. You know he’s not going to Juilliard.

“Yeah, I looked at them this afternoon in the theater.” He clears his throat. “I got waitlisted.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not going to accept a spot on the waitlist.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I had made my decision anyway.” Then he sighs, his nonchalant facade dropping for good. “You can probably guess.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m accepting the studio’s offer,” he whispers, as if the air is glass and the moment could shatter at any moment. The words float there, above your head, and you imagine grabbing them and hugging them close to your chest before they slip away.

You don’t. “I figured.”

“Yeah. You knew.”

You stare ahead and will the tears not to fall.

“I’m leaving as soon as school ends,” he says, with the sideways glance that marks the start of his rambling distraction process, “and flying there on—”

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurt. He pauses mid-sentence. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy. Can we talk about this, for real? You can tell me all the details later, I just—please,” and your voice cracks, “don’t dismiss this.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

A blink, and the first teardrop traces its way down your face.

You waste away the hours of your stolen youth with a boy who wipes your tears away and comforts you over the future that you’ll no longer be a part of.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:57 p.m.

“Before I leave,” Sicheng says, scuffing the heels of his shoes on the gravel pathway, “I know I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. I mean, I’m going to leave anyways, so why not, you know? I have to say something before I’m gone. Um, so, you know this by now, but I… I—” and you already know what’s coming.

“Stop. I know what you’re going to say. Give me a minute to think.”

You make the mistake of glancing up at him, his eyes wide and shining. “Yeah. Alright. Take all the time you need, please.”

In half a year, Sicheng will be gone and you will be left to pick up the pieces of your life that don’t involve him, piecing them together the best you can and carrying on like there isn’t a hole in your heart.

“I’m in love with you.” One thud of your heartbeat. Then another. “Sicheng.”

In half a year, this chance will be long gone, and if you let it slip through your fingers without grabbing on, you’ll never forgive yourself for letting Sicheng become your biggest what-if.

“I’m in love with you too.” He raises his hand to cradle your face in his palm. “Y/n.”

“I’ve wanted to say that for a while now.”

“Me too. It’s not just because I’m leaving, you know.” You nod, his palm momentarily pressing against your cheek. “You knew.”

“Yeah.”

You stare up at him, the boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and holds entire galaxies in his eyes.

“What are we?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you feel about dating?”

You freeze like a deer in headlights. “Dating?”

“Yeah, would you? Like to date me?”

And then Sicheng turns into a what-if again. “I don’t know,” you confess. “I don’t know if I could handle the split.”

“We don’t have to break up when I leave. We could do long distance,” he suggests, but it sounds flimsy even to your ears.

“I don’t know, Sicheng. I don’t want to end up losing you.”

“I know. We don’t have to, especially if you don’t want to.”

You nod once in acknowledgment, and then you’re stepping into his arms again. He holds you securely, stroking your hair and waiting for you to collect your thoughts.

“I wish we had more time,” you whisper into his shoulder an eternity later. “Could we have been doing this earlier?”

“It would’ve been too fast,” he reasons, and you’re inclined to agree. “We didn’t really… not until this year…”

“Yeah.” You’ve known Sicheng for years and have been close with him for months, but you only fell in love with each other when it was too late. “I wish we started hanging out sooner.”

“Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

“Maybe.”

You pull back enough to glance up at him, gaze dropping to his lips at the close proximity before immediately bringing it back up. His eyes follow the movement, a smile creeping up his face.

“One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?” he asks, and he says it so earnestly that it’s hard to believe he’d be wrong.

“It wouldn’t,” you agree. His nose bumps with yours and you blink up at him once, twice, and then you’re leaning in until the faraway sounds of the city fade away. He’s purposeful and patient and when all you can think of is the brush of his lips against yours, it’s just you and him against the world.

One kiss might not hurt, but one turns to two and two turns to too many and when you finally pull away and stare into his eyes, dazed, your lips tingle from the ghost of his mouth on yours.

At that moment, the way his mouth slowly stretches into a grin does something to your heart, and you think you’d let it break a million times just to be the cause of his smile.

“Yes, Sicheng. Let’s date.”

He kisses you again, beaming so wide that his teeth knock against your lips and pulling you closer, almost picking you up in the process.

You wonder if you made the wrong decision.

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jaehyuns-peaches · 3 years

Text

dear j. chapter 2

excitement.

Jaehyun's POV

It's been a week since the letter. There hasn't been another one.

I spun around in my computer chair while my roommate, Jungwoo, said "Hyung, what is it? You've been sighing and spinning for the past hour, please tell me what's wrong." I turned my head and looked at Jungwoo while asking "Can you keep a secret?" He scoffed and said "A secret? Of course, Hyung! Who do you think I am? Donghyuck?" I rolled my chair over to my bag and warned "You better keep this a secret. If I hear anyone asking about this letter, I will strangle you, Kim Jungwoo."

He gave me a salute and said loudly "Yes, Sir!" I chuckled and pulled out the pristine envelope that I carried around in my bag. I handed it to Jungwoo, and I saw his eyes open widely. I said "Do you recognise this envelope? "He said "Huh? No, I don't, Hyung. Just surprised that a secret admirer would go as far as embossing your name on the envelope. Printing one piece wouldn't be cheap." I nodded and said "Precisely. But it's been a week. There hasn't been another letter."

He asked cautiously "Can I read it?" I nodded and he read it and said "Y? Do you have an idea who it is?" I shook my head and said "The only Y I know is Yuta Hyung." Jungwoo laughed and said "Or YangYang. But that's not false. But it seems like such a generic letter, it can be from anyone, Hyung." I sighed and said "Precisely...And it seems like the person isn't writing anymore, Jungwoo. Do you think they gave up?"

Jungwoo said "Maybe she's just scared. You should wait for tomorrow, Hyung. It's your birthday and Valentine's Day, I'm 2000% sure that they will give you a letter." I sighed and said "I hope so."

The next day, after our classes, Jungwoo came over to the Faculty of Business from his faculty so we could grab dinner and head back to our dorm. He was already at my locker when I turned the corner from my lecture hall, and I waved at him. He waved back, and as I approached him, I received many birthday wishes from people. I thanked them and I could feel my heart beating faster as I approached my locker step by step.

I opened my locker excitedly and Jungwoo said "Hyung, my bag is full of chocolates. Your locker should be overflowing." I laughed and said "Unfortunately it isn't." There was a stack of chocolate, and I took each of them out. As each box landed in Jungwoo's hands with no sight of the ivory white envelope, my heart fell as the stack dwindled.

I let out a dejected sigh and Jungwoo patted my back with his free hand and said "Maybe tomorrow, Hyung." When I lifted the last box of chocolate, I smiled when I saw the ivory white envelope, stuck on a bag of gummy bears and an unfortunately flattened rose. Jungwoo gasped and said "I told you!" I grabbed them and placed them into my bag carefully. I said "I'll open it at home."

We headed out for dinner, and went back to our dorm.

"Happy Birthday, Jaehyun!" I gasped as my friends hopped out from their different hiding places in our dorm. Everyone started singing 'happy birthday', while Taeyong and Doyoung walked out from the kitchen with a birthday cake. When the song ended, everyone chanted "손을 맞대, 손을 맞대, 손을 맞대 now make a wish!" Ever since Taeyong composed that song for one of his assignments, it was a chant that we used constantly during birthdays.

I placed my hands together and closed my eyes, wishing in my heart that I will find Y.

I blew out my candles and everyone cheered. We sat down and had cake, it was a small one for all 23 of us, but it was the small delights in life. Johnny announced loudly "Everyone!" We all turned and saw Johnny holding up cans of beer. He said "Let's crack our cans open! We're only having one each tonight because there's still classes tomorrow and we have to be responsible." Lucas and Johnny handed out cans of beer excitedly while we drank and chatted.

After the boys went home, I was finally able to take a shower and sat down on my bed. Jungwoo was already fast asleep, being the lightweight that he was. I pulled out the familiar ivory white envelope that I had grown a connection and attachment too and thumbed the embossed "dear j." .

I opened the envelope, and as I unfolded the letter, the familiar handwriting jumped out at me.

dear j.

Happy birthday to the one and only Valentine's boy~

I hope you have / had a wonderful birthday celebration with your friends.

Getting chocolates was so mainstream so I decided to get you some gummy bears instead! Seeing you around school, I've only witnessed you eating gummy bears so I thought these would be a better choice.

Hopefully by the time you get to this letter my rose hasn't been crushed yet. I hope you haven't ran for the hills because of my first letter, so hopefully you're reading this too.

well, I should go get some sleep before my roommate screams at me, here's the end of my letter, J!

once again, wishing you a happiest birthday, may your year be filled with happiness and good health :)) oh! and may all your wishes come true! hope you had an amazing Valentine’s Day with the lucky one you’ve chosen :)

Yours Truly

I twirled the rose in my hand, petals flattened unfortunately by all the chocolate boxes. Even though it looked sad, it was still oh so vibrant in my hands.

I hope my wish comes true too.

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pftones3482 · 2 years

Note

Listen bestie I saw your post of just posting WIPS and not finishing them and I'm gonna need you to hand the Steve Harrington Spiderman AU over right now regardless if it has an ending or not

Please bestie I crave ❤

Posting WIPs goes against every fiber of my being, but I can at least concede to posting the part of the piece that I enjoy the most. Because it's not done, I'm not gonna post on AO3, but it IS pretty long, even after cutting some of the stuff before and after these sections, so it's under a "Read More" for length.

Basically all you need to know going into this is that it's set post season 3, Robin already knows, and I based it on the fact that the original Spiderman appeared in 1962 (comic wise), so putting him in the 80s wasn't an issue lol (also this is the version of Spiderman where his web powers are part of his body, not manufactured, cause I like that version more). And also I took some images from the trailers and the end of last season to base the demi-dogs on.

And now I'm gonna stop rambling with nerves and just drop this here lol. This is the dumbest thing I feel like I've ever written, but it has a soft spot in my heart (please know that this has been in my drafts for over two years and I just add to it/edit it whenever the feeling strikes). Hope it lives up to your expectations lmao

“Don’t you touch him,” Steve growled, stepping in front of Dustin, bat at the ready.

The demidogs – where the FUCK had they come from? – snarled, haunches lifted in the air and multiple mouth flaps whipping with spittle. They looked wrong – less like a canine, more like a human. They had fully developed fingers, shoulders, and weird abs that hadn't been there before. Their hips were prominent, and Steve tightened his grip on the bat. “Dustin. Run. Radio the others.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Dustin-”

“If you die, I die.”

The dog on the left lunged for Dustin and Steve didn’t think. He dropped the bat and threw his hand out, web circling the dog-beast-human-thing and sending it crashing to the forest floor with a yip. The other two charged and Steve took them down just as fast, taking an extra second to bind them all to the trees before slowly turning to Dustin.

The boy was staring at him, wide eyed, his walkie on the ground where he’d dropped it. Steve lifted his hands slowly, heart hammering. “Dude, I…I should have….”

“You have powers,” Dustin whispered.

Steve licked his lips. “Yeah.”

His chin quivered. “You’re…you lied to me.”

Steve felt his heart drop. His lips parted. “Dustin-” he tried.

Dustin pointed at him, eyes flickering quickly to the still struggling demidogs. “Don’t,” he managed. “I’m pissed at you. We need to take care of these shits. But I’m pissed.”

Steve lowered his hands as Dustin scooped up his walkie and stormed away before turning back to the dogs and picking up his bat. It felt wrong, killing them while they were tied up. But one thought of how they’d been about to turn Dustin into a midnight snack was enough for Steve to lift the nail-speckled wood over his shoulder and swing.

He left the bat leaning against a tree, looked back over his shoulder, and took off for home.

Steve wasn’t sure why he decided to patrol the next night. He’d waited all day for Dustin to confront him at work, but nothing had happened. No loser teenagers, no goofing off, and Steve had never felt more miserable. Robin had picked up on it, and he’d explained in hushed tones what had happened. She hadn’t been able to do more than squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, and now Steve was standing on City Hall like nothing had changed.

Like he hadn’t lost one of the best kids in the universe.

He couldn’t say it was all his fault – Dustin of all people should understand the importance of secrets. But they hadn’t ever kept secrets from one another, not as long as they’d known each other. So Steve could understand why he felt so upset. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though.

“Steve? Steve come in, goddammit. Steve!”

Steve fumbled for his walkie, on his hip out of habit, and slung it up to his mouth. “Henderson?”

“It’s Mike. The demidogs – Dustin said you guys got rid of some of them.”

Steve frowned, twisting to look at the woods. “Yeah, last night, we – what do you mean, some of them?” he asked sharply.

Mike’s voice was strangled. “There’s more.”

“Where are you?”

“Hops old place, the shed behind it. We’ve been using it as an in between for-”

“Don’t care,” Steve said, zapping the walkie to his shoulder and swinging in the direction of the old cabin. “How many?”

“Seven? Maybe eight?” Mike’s voice was breaking now, and it made Steve panic. He’d never heard the kid freak out like this outside of where El’s safety was concerned. “B-But Dustin and Max are stuck up a tree, they’re surrounded. Lucas and I don’t have anything.”

Steve didn’t bother to question it. He knew the kids, knew they had probably been goofing around, knew that they wouldn’t do something like that without it being a last resort. “I’ll be there in three minutes,” he estimated. “Call Nancy, call Robin, get a ride from somewhere.”

A pause. “But I thought you-?”

“Mike. Do it.”

He paused for long enough to shut the walkie off and sling it back on his hip before swinging into the woods. The forest surrounding Hawkins was old, which meant the trees were tall, which meant Steve could swing through with ease, tracing a path in his mind to Hoppers old place.

He landed silently on the lowest branch of a tree when he was over the cabin, eyeing the surrounding trees. He could hear the growling, could hear Mike and Lucas’ hushed whispers from inside the storage shed, the only building still standing after the destruction of Hopper’s house.

Steve’s eyesight was way better in the dark, and it didn’t take him long to spot Max’s bright red hair up a tree about thirty feet away. Dustin was on the branch opposite her, each of them a good twenty feet in the air, but the demidogs weren’t backing down. Growling, snapping, trying to climb one another to get to them. Steve could see them holding hands in sheer terror, and he snapped.

Those were his kids, goddammit.

He set the walkie in the tree so it didn’t get damaged, made sure his mask was snug, and dropped onto the shed roof with little more than a thump. Mike and Lucas immediately shut up under him and he tapped twice, very distinctly, hoping they’d understand that it wasn’t a monster on the roof.

Steve crept forward, peering over the edge of the shed. There was one demidog pacing outside of it, growling and occasionally headbutting the door, but the boys must have bolted it from the inside. Smart. He lifted his head, judging the distance between the shed, the remainder of the house, and the tree Max and Dustin were in.

He jumped.

The web stuck to the frame of the destroyed house and Steve swung silently through the air, letting go of the strand and leaping to a taller tree before whipping around and landing on the branch next to Max.

He clapped a hand over her mouth before she could scream. “Don’t,” he whispered, looking down at the demidogs. “How many?”

She swallowed and looked over at Dustin in shock, who was glaring at Steve like he was hoping to burn a hole through his mask. “Just those,” she said finally. “And the one waiting for Lucas and Mike – our friends in the shed.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Stay here.”

He looked down again, steeled himself, and plummeted.

Dustin’s shout of protest registered vaguely in his head as he landed solidly on one of the demidogs, cracking it’s spine with his heels. It whimpered and died under him and Steve allowed himself to smirk.

“Six to one assholes. Let’s go,” he challenged, looking up at the rest of them.

The biggest one leapt, and the next thirty seconds were a blur.

Steve clamped mouths, swung around trees, wound legs together, snapped necks. He was focused mainly on the two kids in the tree, on keeping them safe. He put the last dog out of it’s misery and stood, panting. His suit was a little torn from so many claws, but as far as he could tell, he was okay.

He’d forgotten the one guarding Lucas and Mike.

It landed on his back with a shriek, claws digging into his back and teeth snapping at his neck. It was only thanks to his supernaturally heightened senses that Steve flipped over before it could sink it’s jaws into his skin, webbing slapping it’s mouth together. The demidog snarled, backing up, giving Steve time to stumble to his feet. Blood was streaming down his back and he gasped, flinging a hand to his shoulder.

The dog scratched the webbing off, looked up at him. If it had eyes, they would have been full of malice. It bent low and charged.

Steve readied himself, but at the last second, the dog jumped. It’s hand/paws/claws/things scratched at Steve’s head, shoving him to the ground, and as he hit the spongey dirt, Steve realized with mounting horror that the dog had used him as a springboard.

“NO!”

He flipped onto his back, ignoring the stinging, and shot a web at the tree. The dog was on the branch under Max, who was now shrieking and trying to kick it in the head. She didn’t have a weapon. Steve yanked himself up and slung himself into the tree, back screaming in pain.

Max was closest. She was his main focus. He wrapped a tight arm around her hip. “Hang on,” he wheezed. His back was throbbing. She clung to his neck and he leapt over the demidog, slinging to the next tree with a grunt and setting Max carefully on her feet.

A scream.

Dustin.

Steve twisted on the branch in time to see Dustin scramble back on his own part of the tree, the demidog creeping closer to him. “Dustin!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Dustin looked up, eyes wide in fear, and Steve’s heart thudded in his throat. “Jump.”

The hesitation was barely there. In one move, Dustin rolled off the branch and fell to the ground. Steve was on the move before Dustin had even thought about falling, throwing himself into the air.

With his right hand, he shot the demidog, gluing it to the tree trunk in a snapping, snarling rage. With his left arm, he caught Dustin around the middle, pushing him to his chest as hard as he could and shooting one last, furious stream of web at the first branch he could see.

The landing wasn’t pretty, both boys stumbling and collapsing to their knees, but then Dustin was clinging to Steve, sobbing, and Steve could do nothing more than hug back and let out his own sob of relief. He ripped the mask off, panting, and pressed his hand to the back of Dustin’s head. “You’re okay?” he gasped.

He pushed back, eyes flickering over every available inch of Dustin’s face, searching for marks. “I’m okay. I’m…I’m sorry, Steve, I’m-”

Steve shook his head and hugged him again, sinking back on his heels and letting himself breathe for the first time in ten minutes. “It’s okay, Henderson. It’s okay.”

“Steve?”

Max’s voice was quiet, somewhat awed, very concerned, and Steve turned quickly, standing. He only remembered his injuries when he stumbled, his shoulders and back screeching in agony. “You’re okay?” he confirmed with the girl, shooting a glance to make sure the demidog was still stuck, writhing, in the tree. Shot it again with another burst of web for good measure.

“I’m fine,” Max confirmed, her eyes dropping to his midsection. They widened. “You’re bleeding. Bad.”

Steve huffed. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

He clapped a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, felt his knees buckle, and the world went black.

When Steve couldn’t let go of his coffee mug, he thought maybe this was a dumb prank from one of the party members, screwing with him and leaving superglue on everything. When his other hand stuck to the countertop, the one he had just been using with ease, that thought faltered a little. And when his feet carried him straight up the wall in his attempt to unstick the mug, Steve fully dropped the idea of the party having anything to do with this and let out a very unmanly scream.

The mug shattered when it hit the ground, leaving Steve at an awkward angle on the wall. Gravity was pulling down on his body, but his feet were planted firmly to the plaster. He squatted to relieve the tension, eyed the wall with mounting terror.

He’d seen news reports, recently. About a vigilante/superhero all the way in New York who was spider based. They could stick to walls. They also kept quiet, were more of a speculation than an actual person, so him even being real was more a theory than fact.

But here Steve was, sticking to the wall.

“What the fuck?” he hissed at himself.

He yanked back on his right foot and yelped when it wrenched off the wall, sending him tumbling to the floor with his left foot still planted. Steve groaned and propped himself up on his elbows, tugging his left foot back with all that he had. It came loose after a moment, jarring him, and then he stood very slowly, careful to touch nothing but the floor.

What the fuck?

He looked down at his fingers, wondering if they were equally as sticky, and paused, lifting his wrists closer to his face. There was a small lump of skin on each wrist that hadn’t been there. If he hadn’t been looking too closely, he might have thought they were a mole, or maybe a zit. As he peered closer, he could see the small hole in each one.

“Nope, no, no, no,” Steve said out loud, jerking his hands down. “No. No way in hell.”

Still, he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious. Because he totally was. He looked back at his wrist, at the wall. Upstairs. His parents weren’t home, never were.

He lifted his left hand slowly and settled his finger over the lump on his right wrist. Pressed down.

A shot of spider web zipped out from it and Steve promptly shrieked, letting go of his hand and shaking his arm around to get rid of the sticky material. Lightheaded, Steve stumbled away from whatever the FUCK that was and into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. For a long couple of minutes, he stared blankly at the dark TV screen.

“Spiderman,” he recalled, slowly.

That was the name of the guy in New York. And if Steve, all the way in Indiana, knew about him, that meant there had to be SOME kind of information on him, on how he had become that way. Maybe on how Steve had…

His mind flashed back to the Russians, to the things they had injected him with. Maybe. But why would that affect him and not Robin? Unless it had. Or maybe it wasn’t the Russians at all. Maybe Steve was going crazy.

Oh, he was definitely going crazy, that was for fucking sure.

When he walked into the library for the first time in maybe two years, the librarian looked at him like he had four heads. Maybe he did. A quick check. Nope. “Do you have a section for uh…national newspapers? Or…or state specific ones?”

Her brows furrowed but she pointed him towards a back corner, walking with him until he got to the machine that stored the papers. She walked him through how to use it, still looking baffled, and left him to it.

It took almost four hours, and he barely managed to find more than two articles.

One contained a blurry photograph. Another a slightly better one. One real article, with an even better photo, a closeup of the guy, of his symbol, of his mask. The only thing all the articles had in common? The name of the photographer, Peter Parker.

Steve jotted the information down and went back through the papers a little more thoroughly now, until he found the contact information needed. It would be a collect call, long distance, but he put away the papers and made his way to the payphone in the front hallway, jingling a couple quarters together and dropping one into the phone, looking from the keypad to the paper and back.

It rang three times, four, before a frazzled sounding voice picked up. “Peter Parker, Daily Bugle.”

Steve suddenly found that he was at a loss for words. The guy sounded young, maybe his age. What were the odds that he even knew Spiderman? Slim to none, probably.

“Hello?”

Steve shut his eyes. “Sorry, sorry. Um. You’re the guy who got pictures of uh…of Spiderman, right?”

A pause. “Yeah,” said the guy, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Though most people don’t really refer to him by that name. How can I help?”

“Do you have a way to contact him?” Steve blurted. He felt like his heart was racing. Was that normal? He was super fucking sweaty. What the fuck?

“Not really? He doesn’t really pose for the photos, I kinda just shoot them as I can. Is there anything I can help you with maybe? If you’re in trouble, you should really call the NYPD.”

Steve forced a laugh at that, thumping his forehead against the wall next to the phone. He slid another quarter in as the warning tone beeped. “Considering I’m in Indiana, that’s probably a no go.”

More silence. “Why are you calling from Indiana?”

Steve pressed his lips together. God, his throat was dry. “I just…wanted to know how it happened,” he whispered, suddenly vividly aware of the fact that he was in a public space. “I…how he became Spiderman. If…”

He trailed off and turned around, leaning his back against the cold tile wall and pressing a hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you. Thank you for your help, Mr. Parker, I really-”

“Hold on.”

Steve hesitated. In the background, he heard what sounded like a door shutting, and then the sound of clattering. A lull of silence, where Steve thought maybe he’d gotten disconnected, and the Parker spoke again. “This wouldn’t happen to be Hawkins, Indiana, would it? Where all that weird…chemical and science stuff was happening last month?”

Steve snorted. He shouldn’t be surprised that a journalist of some kind had heard of their town. “Yup, that’s the one.”

“Were you exposed to the chemicals?”

Steve dragged his hand down his face, blowing a raspberry. “Kinda? Not really? Maybe? I don’t know.”

“Are you…” another pause, again. “Are you experiencing side effects?”

Steve left his hand on his chin, wondering in the back of his mind if it would get stuck there. “Depends. Are you going to screw my life over if I say I am?”

“No,” the man said immediately. “No, no way.”

He said it with such certainty that Steve relaxed and let his hand drop to his side. “Yeah,” he whispered, and his voice cracked embarrassingly. “Yeah, I…I don’t know what happened. But I…I need to talk to him.”

There was such a long pause this time that Steve had to double check the call hadn’t dropped. “What do you need from me?” Parker asked, his tone low and warning.

Steve was about to protest, about to ask again for the vigilante, when Parker’s meaning clicked in his head. He couldn’t help but snort and sink down the wall, the cord of the payphone tugging uncomfortably at his arm. “Fuck,” he managed. “Okay. Um. What…what do I do?”

Parker huffed into the phone. “Whatever you can. Practice. Figure it out. Make sure no one knows, because-”

“Yup, yup,” Steve said, shutting his eyes and thumping his head back on the wall. “Yup, don’t worry, I’ve dealt with enough shitty labs in my life.”

A confused silence. “Am I allowed to ask?”

“It’s a long fucking story and I only have one more quarter,” Steve said, running a hand over his forehead. “I…okay. What if I…what if I decide to…to do what yo-what he does?”

“Really?” and Parker sounded surprised.

Steve’s lips twitched of their own volition. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve pretty much been doing it anyway, without the…side effects. So I might as well put them to use, right?”

He thought he could almost hear Parker smiling. “Then I think…I’d be happy to have you use my name. If you give me your address…I could send you some things that might help. Would you like my personal number? And I uh…I never got your name. But you have mine.”

Steve nodded, noting the worry in the reporters voice. “Steve Harrington,” he offered. “And if…if you’re comfortable with that…I’d really appreciate it, Mr. Parker.”

“Peter, please. And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“It’ll be okay.”

Steve huffed, startled to find his eyes teary. He smiled. “Yeah. Somehow it always is.”

#insert shrug emoji here #stranger things #steve harrington #spiderman #my writing #it feels VERY weird to post this given that I know I'll most likely never finish it #the following scenes are him waking up and explaining shit to the kids and then later giving joyce a heart attack #when she walks in to him dangling off his ceiling light hanging christmas garland #anyway theres that #its weird and i wrote it for fun and now its like a comfort thing for me lol #but i hope you enjoyed the blurb anon #please know i spent ten minutes just sitting here sweating about posting this lol i don't usually show my wips to people like ever #and i especially don't post them on the internet #anyway this is saved in my word documents as 'spidey steve' and i thought ppl would like that #ok bye

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avonne-writes · 3 years

Text

Scorpion Grass - part 3

Pairing: Loki/Mobius, Steve/Thor (background)

Rating, word count (chapter): T, 4.2k

Chapter summary: Steve's birthday, a hike with the family and a sunset.

Link to the AO3 post

Shadowbrook is a little piece of tropical paradise nestled in the hill above Soquel creek. It's one of the most popular restaurants in the area, and not without reason. As Loki follows the meandering path through a forest of ferns, palms and vibrant flowers, he's enchanted by the play of light on the leaves and the serene flow of a waterfall. The air feels thick with humidity, but he doesn't mind. The charm makes up for it.

He takes it all in with a deep sigh. On the other side of the creek, the trees are lit up orange by the setting sun against the backdrop of the ever-blue sky, and a white cloud sprawls in the distance like a snowy mountaintop. So dramatic. Loki huffs. He's glad he chose the stairs instead of the cable car to come down from the parking lot, because this is a sight to behold. The windows of the redwood building glow in invitation, as if to reinforce that thought.

Ahead of him, Thor stops by a koi pond. "Do you think Mom will be mad if I switch tables when Steve arrives?"

Oh, this is just perfect. Loki has been looking for a way to insert himself into Steve's birthday celebration - he even managed to convince Father with his smooth words to pull some strings and get them a table tonight. It was a pleasant surprise when he found out that Steve had already asked Thor to come because one of his other friends couldn't make it. All Loki needs now is an opening to attach himself to Thor, and he may have just found it.

"No, but I think she'll be disappointed if you leave your little brother out of it." He says, his voice honey. "She thinks I'm lonely."

Thor looks up at the sky. "And is that my fault?"

"Evidently." Loki smirks and receives a dirty glare. He adjusts the cuffs of his white dress shirt. The jade beads of his bracelet look beautiful in this light… He hopes Mobius agrees. “Besides, Mom deserves a little alone time with Father, don’t you think?”

A few steps ahead, their mom has just taken their father's hand. Thor makes a grossed-out face. "I'll ask if we can squeeze you in."

A satisfied smile plays around Loki's lips. "Very generous of you, brother."

Thor shakes his head, but he's smiling too.

Steve and his friends manage to find a place for him at their table. He has to sit between his brother and Sam's girlfriend, but that's a small price to pay, considering he wasn't even invited. He plays footsie with Mobius and watches him turn beetroot red in surprise. He gives Loki a warning look, but Loki just sips his drink and stares back at him over the rim of his glass, challenging. It's fun. Especially when Mobius captures his foot between his and smiles.

Surrounded by Steve's exuberant friends, Loki's content to sit back like a shadow and just listen in on the conversations bubbling around him. He learns that Mobius had a punk phase which he gets mercilessly teased for and he did work in a tedious government position at one point in his life. This duality makes Loki wonder what could have evoked such a hairpin change. Was it a terrible secret that shattered Mobius' world? Or was he just a trapped bird, waiting for someone to open the cage?

Loki is lost in thought, staring blindly at the twinkle lights that sparkled to life all around the patio as the sky turned dark, when Sam turns to him.

"What about you, Loki?"

It seems as though the whole table has stopped talking to hear his answer, but he's sure it's only in his head. "Sorry, what was the question?"

"What do you study?"

It's a simple small talk topic. Should be. In Loki's case though, this is where things start to get complicated. He crosses his arms. "Oh, I haven't even chosen a major yet. It doesn't matter."

Two seats away from him, Natasha leans forward to look at him. "You don't look like a person without a plan."

It's an observation that takes Loki aback. "I suppose I don't."

"Don't be embarrassed if you wanna drop out, you wouldn't be the only one here." Bucky adds. The guy has such a depressed aura that Loki sometimes expects to see a dark cloud above him, but he does break into a smile when Sam gives him a light punch on the shoulder.

"Which field are you interested in?" Sam's girlfriend asks.

Loki glances at Thor, but he's staring at his plate. "Business."

"How come?"

"Our family owns a metal manufacturing company, and I want to take over and put it on the Fortune 500."

"Ambitious." Mobius comments. "But do you think you'd enjoy that? CEOs tend to be ruthless."

Loki frowns at him. "I am too."

Mobius nods, but that sensation of being seen down to his heart of hearts washes over Loki again. It puts him on the defensive because he doesn't know what it would reveal if he let Mobius dissect his motivations any further. He lashes out at the spotlight and pushes it away.

"Father wanted Thor to go for it, but he decided to become Father's greatest source of irritation instead and majored in marine biology."

Thor grinds his teeth, and when he looks at Loki, there's lightning in his eyes. "Let's not talk about this."

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence, then the conversation resumes about something entirely different, even though the tension lingers in the air. Loki catches the sad, sympathetic look Steve directs at his brother, and the hint of a smile Thor gives him in return, but he refuses to show that it makes him feel guilty. Guilt is a weakness. It's evidence that you care. And he shouldn't - Thor is still the preferred child and always will be.

Later, when the night is dwindling down and it's about time to leave, Loki finds himself alone with Mobius on the patio, listening to the quacking ducks that swim in the creek. With his parents already gone, he's waiting for Thor so that they can go home together, but Thor's taking his sweet time saying goodbye to his new best friends. What does Sif think of this? She must be jealous, Loki's sure. Perhaps she thinks the relationship will fade away until she's nothing but a sepia-tinted ghost of the past. Loki can sympathize.

"I can't believe you crashed Steve's party." Mobius chuckles, then shakes his head when Loki just raises his eyebrows and sways in place until their arms brush. "You're lucky you're cute."

Loki bites his lip in delight. He turns to face Mobius fully and reaches for the knot of Mobius' tie to adjust it, leaning close enough that Mobius' cologne fills his nose. He lowers his voice. "Am I now?"

"Like a little pussycat."

"Careful, old man, I have claws."

"Where does all this insolence come from?" Mobius laughs and bats Loki's hands away.

"A lifetime of being underappreciated." Despite his shrug, Loki feels a sting in his words that takes the joke out of the moment, and he rushes to grab it before it slips away, no matter how futile his effort is. "I know I have a glorious purpose in this world."

There's a second when he thinks he was suave enough to get away with it, but Mobius' expression turns serious and he looks up at Loki with the deepest understanding in his eyes. "Putting your dad's company on the Fortune 500?"

Loki presses on the center of his palm and averts his eyes. "Maybe."

"I heard what you said about Thor at the table."

"And?" He didn't lie. Their dreams and Father's never aligned.

The backs of Mobius' fingers caress his upper arm. "You don't have to compete with him to be loved."

It's affronting to hear it said out loud. How did Mobius know where to push the dagger to make it hurt the most? Loki crosses his arms. The night seems suddenly chilly, and his brother's approaching figure is a relief.

"You don't know anything about my family." He tells Mobius with an icy voice, then purses his lips when Thor's heavy arm lands around his shoulders. Clingy. He shrugs it off.

"Here, take the car." Thor presses the keys into his hand.

Loki frowns, Mobius forgotten for a moment. "Why, are you not coming?"

"No, we're going to some bar…" Thor trails off, turning in place to glance at Steve and Natasha, who are standing together under a palm tree closer to the creek. "The Blue Lagoon?"

"I know that place." Mobius nods, and Thor gives him a huge grin.

"Join us!"

"Sure, why not." Mobius agrees, and his smile doesn't waver even under the force of Loki's glare.

"I'm coming too." Loki says.

"No, no, no." Thor laughs and squeezes Loki's neck. "That's out of the question."

"I've been to places you'd never dare go to." Loki bristles, but Thor doesn't relent. They've been to actual nightclubs together before and Loki's fake ID always worked, so some laid-back cocktail bar or whatever shouldn't be a problem, but for some reason, Thor is adamant that he doesn't come.

It's a fight Loki lost before it even began, and he doesn't understand why. It's frustrating. He ends up going home alone, half of his heart torn, the other soaring. He hates California.

It's delicious revenge to wake Thor's hungover ass the next day. Loki marches into Thor's room at seven and opens the blinds to let the sharp morning light in, and he delights in the pained groans Thor lets out like a vampire exposed to the sun.

"Good morning, brother." Loki drawls and dodges the pillow flying for his head.

"Asshole." Thor growls from under the cover of his blanket.

"You're an idiot." Loki informs him. "The Berry Creek Falls hike?"

"That's today?" The sound Thor makes is of pure regret. No wonder - the prospect of a ten-mile hike in the woods is bound to make the leftover alcohol churn in his stomach.

Loki sighs. He shouldn't take pity on him, it's not his responsibility, Thor walked into this on his own. But the faintest traces of the guilt from last night comes back, and Loki's schadenfreude sours. He closes his eyes. "Alright, I'll get you an aspirin."

He goes to the kitchen and pours a glass of water too, then returns to Thor's side. He finds him sitting up, head hanging and messy blond hair falling around his face like a curtain. He's hunched over. Half-naked he is, the shiver running up his spine is obvious. When Loki pushes the glass into his right hand, he straightens up a little, and that's when Loki sees it - a tiny mark below his collarbone. It's not deep red or shaped deliberately, just something faint that must have been put there by accident. But it seems to be a hickey. And it makes perfect sense now, doesn't it? Thor didn't want Loki to be at the bar because he wanted to hook up with someone. That's it.

"When did you get home?" Loki asks, the teasing on the tip of his tongue, but Thor's answer takes the wind out of his sails.

"Around one. Didn't wanna leave you alone all night."

That's an awfully short time to find someone attractive, get laid and come home. Was it just an intense makeout session? The nosy voice in his head prods at Loki to find out. But maybe he should go easy on Thor, just this once. He was trying to be considerate of Loki, after all, and isn't that a touching thought? Although it makes Loki a little indignant too. He's not a goddamn kid who needs supervision.

"Brace yourself." He tells Thor. "I think Mom's making bacon PB&J sandwiches."

The way Thor gags is incredibly satisfying.

The Big Basin loop trail Father chose for them is scenic and peaceful, passing waterfalls and beautiful redwoods that seem to tower right into heaven. Loki stares up at their canopies as he wanders through the lush greenery and smiles when he spots a flock of orange-black butterflies flitting from one sunny spot on the moss to the other. Birdsong echoes around him. The coast's salty scent is absent, but the branches whoosh in the wind rhythmically like the waves of the sea hit the sand. The air smells earthy and clean, and the bustle of wildlife gives the forest a lively buzz. It's almost like coming home. But not quite. Is Thor going to miss Oregon? The dark mist and the cold, and the trips he used to take Loki on?

No, he won't. Loki shakes his head. Sunshine suits Thor better than rain, no matter how he claims he likes storms.

Climbing over a log that fell on the path, Loki wipes the sweat from his brow and wrinkles his nose when the whiff of bug spray hits him for a moment. He's glad for his mom's forethought because there are a lot of mosquitoes and they all seem to love Loki's blood, but he can't wait to wash this smell off his body. He lands in a muddy patch, unconcerned by the disgusting squelch of his boots, and he notices something bright yellow in the foliage. A banana slug! Not the ugly grey or ochre-black dotted ones he's used to seeing in Oregon, but a specimen that does look like a banana. Behind him, he hears his brother's rumbling voice as he explains the specifics of this habitat to their mom, and he turns to beckon him.

"Thor, check this out."

Thor walks over to him and crouches down by the slug. He grins up at Loki. "It's huge."

Loki grins back. "Take a selfie with it."

Their mom shakes her head at them with a fond smile, but Thor complies, and when he stands up, he's smiling like a fool. "Gonna send it to Steve."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate the artistic beauty." Loki deadpans as they move on. When Thor just smirks to himself and doesn't reply, he elbows Thor's side. "What?"

"The banana slug is the uni's mascot."

"Really?" Loki bursts out laughing and doesn't stop even when Thor shoves him forward. If only every moment of this vacation was so fun.

Ten miles of hiking in the summer does have an effect though, and Loki's exhausted and ready to have a nap when he and Thor get home. They sprawl on the pulled-out couch - Loki's current bed - and watch some stupid James Bond movie with half-lidded eyes.

"The laws of physics don't work like that." Loki comments at a particularly bad action scene. He hears Thor's grunt, but there's no other response. "Why are we watching this again?"

"Remote's too far away." Thor mumbles. His eyes are closed, and the collar of his t-shirt is hooked on his chin, one of his habits that Loki never understood. The remote is lying by his feet.

Out of the blue, Thor's phone buzzes on the coffee table pushed against the wall. Thor's eyes snap open and he jumps for the device so suddenly that Loki startles.

"Oh and your phone isn't?" He grouches when Thor scrambles off the couch to grab it.

"Shut up." Thor waves him off. He seems nervous for a second as he starts reading his messages, then a smile curls the corners of his lips. He types something. "Steve's coming over, okay?"

Loki groans and slips down in his seat until he's flat on his back. "Why?"

Thor shrugs. "To play Xbox." He gives Loki a half-hearted invitation. "You can hang out with us."

"Fat chance." Loki covers his face with his hands.

He considers his options. Stay and watch them play some hypermasculine video game? Go over to his parents? Smother himself with a pillow? An abundance of great choices. He could go out and explore the city on his own, if his legs didn't ache quite this much and if there was anything to discover about Santa Cruz. He sighs. There's only one viable alternative.

"I'll go down to the beach."

"Alone?"

"I'm not an invalid toddler, Thor."

"Alright, alright." Thor raises his hands. "Don't stay out too late."

Loki rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out.

He has a debate with himself, whether to try Santa Cruz's main beach or stick to Capitola, but the usual spot wins out in the end. He watches the first flames of sunset lick the sky there, sitting on a bench at the edge of the parking lot instead of going down to the lifeguard towers. It's hard to walk the line between enthusiastic and desperate, and he doesn't want to come off as pathetic. Besides, he's not sure how to continue after what happened last night when Mobius brought up his relationship with Thor. His reaction wasn't very mature, was it? How is he going to explain himself without sharing the whole story?

So, he broods on the worn out wooden bench alone. There's a claw clip in his hair, but some of the shorter strands escape and caress the plane of his forehead as the breeze blows them across his face. The V-cut of his white shirt leaves his neck free, and he relishes the way his skin cools when he tilts his head to the wind. It's a relaxing solitude. He steps out of his flip-flops and plays with the rocks and pebbles at his feet, trying to build a pile of them absent-mindedly. They’re warm under his skin.

His thoughts wander to Thor. He bets that he and Steve are playing some military-themed mindless crap. God, he hopes they won’t leave empty snack wrappers all over the apartment… Loki’s not cleaning up after anyone, that’s for sure.

Someone’s listening to the radio with the windows of their car rolled down, and Loki hums along to the forgettable pop tunes until a hand touches his shoulder.

"I thought it was you." Mobius says in lieu of a greeting when Loki looks up.

Loki gives him a lopsided smile. "Been watching me for a long time, huh?"

"I'm not denying it." Mobius skirts around the bench to take a seat next to him. His keys clink in his hand as he tucks them away in his belt pack - he must have been going to his car. "Are you okay?"

Loki nods, but he can't help the way his shoulders rise, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Mobius’ eyebrows quirk. "Are you hiding again?"

"I'm not hiding."

"Then what are you doing here? On your own."

"I like being alone. No know-it-all accountant to annoy me."

Despite how grouchy that sounds, Mobius snickers. "Paramedic."

He looks at Loki’s bare feet, the way he’s rolling a pebble under his sole, and he nudges another one towards the pile with the tip of his sandal. Loki’s left foot shoves him out of the way, but he doesn’t give up on the rock, and they push and kick at each other until Loki laughs. They stop with one of Loki's pale heels propped up on Mobius’ foot victoriously.

Mobius tucks a stray lock of hair behind Loki’s ear. "I didn't mean to annoy you."

Loki raises his eyes to the horizon, where the white foam of the waves reflects the marigold sunshine. He tries to contain his smile and the blush that rivals his sunburn. "And yet."

"Okay, you know what?" Mobius stands up. "Let's go for a walk and you can annoy me back all you like."

Loki hums. "If you think I'll back down from the impossible, you'll be disappointed."

"Give me your worst."

They go down to the edge of the water and Loki dips his feet in the sea, watches it lap up the footprints he left in the wet sand. He taps the flip-flops in his hand against his thigh as he thinks of a way to start. The silence doesn’t seem to bother Mobius. He waits Loki out patiently, his hands on his hips and his floral shirt open and billowing in the breeze. There's a lifeguard whistle around his neck. Must have forgotten to take it off.

"What happened to your nose?" Loki throws at him at last.

"Ouch. Tough start."

"I had to go for the sore spot."

"Fair enough." Mobius smiles and draws a fingertip down the crooked bridge of his nose. “I broke it twice, actually. Which story do you want to hear first?”

“The lamest one, of course.”

“My mom signed me up for a water polo summer camp in Portland because I was a good swimmer and she thought it would be fun. I was eleven, I think? Or twelve? And I had the biggest crush on one of the other boys. He had a girlfriend, another player, and I was so jealous, you wouldn't believe it. I was determined to show I was better than her. We kept challenging each other. And they had these shot rebounder nets for the more advanced players.”

He gestures around, trying to show Loki the shape. “We were trying to see who could make the ball bounce back farther, but we didn’t know how to use the nets properly.”

Loki bites back a smile. “I think I know where this is going.”

Mobius bows his head and spreads his arms. “I hit it at the wrong angle and the rebound fractured my nose.” He chuckles. “I showed my crush that I was a complete klutz and I never saw him again because I couldn’t stay there with a broken nose.”

Loki furrows his brows in mock-concern, flicking water at Mobius with his right foot. “Tragic.”

Mobius steps closer. “You wanna hear the second story?”

“Hanging on every word.” Another step. Loki raises his chin. “Am I annoying yet?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I can still up the - Hey!”

Loki yelps when Mobius lunges for him, and he jumps away, laughing as Mobius chases him knee-deep into the water. He swats at Mobius’ forearm with his flip-flops, but to no avail, he’s caught within a few seconds, held around the waist. He puts his free hand on Mobius’ chest, and his thumb touches a strip of the skin Mobius’ shirt left uncovered. Does he know what he's doing to Loki's sanity? The sunset glows on one side of Mobius’ face, while the other bathes in shadows, and Loki can't decide where to look, is there a safe spot that doesn’t make his heart falter? He settles on Mobius’ eyes because he can't resist their magnetic draw.

"I hope the second story is just as valiant as the first." He says, pretending to be unfazed by the embrace.

"Not exactly." Mobius' right palm strokes his back, just once. "I had a car accident. The airbag broke it when it inflated."

Loki nods. He knows this happens sometimes - he remembers the stories about Father's car crash and how he lost his right eye not long before Loki was born.

"But there's a silver lining." Mobius says. "I was trapped in the wreck so I had to wait until they cut me out -"

"Is that supposed to be the silver lining?"

Mobius narrows his eyes. "I remember you claiming that you don't like talking."

"The sacrifices I make to annoy you..." Loki sighs theatrically, happy to see Mobius smile. He slides his hand up Mobius' chest and moves to rest both of his elbows on Mobius' shoulders. "So. You were trapped. Mourning your handsome profile."

Mobius huffs a laugh. "There was this EMT, Becca, who kept talking to me until they got me out. Utterly calm and professional. She was my inspiration to become a paramedic."

Loki smiles and rocks left and right in place. "I admire first responders."

Mobius' arms tighten around his waist. "You do?

"Some more than others."

"Lifeguards must be at the top of the list."

"Hm, I don't know -" Loki laughs again, swaying forward when Mobius pulls him in, and he knows they're going to kiss long before he feels the first brush of Mobius' moustache and the soft seal of his lips, but it's amazing all the same. Mobius' skin is warm from the sunshine, and his exhale of joy feels like adoration. His sunscreen smell is mixed with the salt of the sea and a sweet cologne, a fresh scent.

He kisses with reverence. Like a man who has finally found his right reality after an eternity of waiting, and Loki tells himself it's just a trick or an illusion of his smitten heart but he can't help falling for it. His lips part and let Mobius in. Another kiss, one more, a chaste one, a kiss that burns - they flow into each other. Mobius' hands are steady on Loki's slender waist, holding him, grounding him until Loki does what he's been yearning for since the 4th of July fair and folds into him, pressed close, thighs, hips, stomach and chest. The fuzzy sensation in his abdomen opens like a flower and makes his fingers shake. It's a dream.

He draws back to say something, but Mobius follows his lips before they could form the words, and God, he's right. Talking is overrated.

#lokius #loki #mobius m mobius #thundershield #steve rogers #thor #my writing #scorpion grass

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somanysigns-13 · 3 years

Text

Part 3: Snuggle in and buckle up for a long read. 😬

Reputation 2017 - her final required album with BMR (2014-2017 3 years after 1989)

…Ready For It? (also see cowboy like me on evermore)

* Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted...Knew the beard (maybe Joe?) was gay; wondered how many girls he had to pretend with?

* But if he’s a ghost then I can be a phantom holdin him for ransom...She can use him to cover her relationship with Karlie (also see New Romantics)

* Some boys are tryin too hard he don’t try at all though younger than my exes but he act like such a man so I see nothing better keep him forever like a vendetta...Some of her beards actually tried to make the relationship legit but he doesn’t try at all, maybe because he is also gay, so she can see staying with him until it’s over

* In the middle of the night, in my dreams you should see the things we do. In the middle of the night in my dreams I know I’m gonna be with you, so I’ll take my time...She knows in the end she will be with Karlie so she’s just going to ride this out

* Knew I was a robber first time that he saw me stealing hearts and runnin off and never saying sorry but if I’m a thief then he can join the heist and we’ll move to an island.... Possible reference to Karlie’s bearding with Josh and him knowing they are together and being part of the whole plan?

* He can be my jailer Burton to this Taylor...Nod to Elizabeth Taylor and her relationship with Richard Burton * Karlie’s middle name is Elizabeth * Burton to this Taylor - Josh will marry Karlie to quiet the rumors of her and Karlie’s relationship therefore he is Taylor’s “jailer” keeping the “cage” in place. Back to that recurring theme..cages..(see so it goes, this is me trying, and cowboy like me)

* Baby let the games begin...Here we go...start of the end game by playing more games

End Game

* I wanna be your endgame I wanna be your first string I wanna be your A-Team... She wants to be able to be public with Karlie and not the “secret”

Could the End Game be them getting through the final years of the BMR contract and possible other contracts (Karlie with Scooter and Josh). Did Taylor possibly sign a 3 album obligation to UMG which is why she busted out 3 albums in 1 year (Lover/folklore/evermore) to make “End Game” “New Year’s Day” 2021? There seems to be a countdown between the years of album releases...1989-reputation (3) rep-lover (2) and lover-folklore/evermore (1)

* Big reputation, big reputation ooh you and me would be a big conversation... If they came out now everyone would really be talking about it even though there are currently rumors

What kind of big conversation would really come of her and Joe Alwyn? Why would being in a heterosexual relationship need to be kept such a secret? What’s so taboo about it? And why would it need to be a secret when the public narrative is that you are in a relationship with him already?

* I hit you like bang we tried to forget it but we just couldn’t...Karlie and Taylor’s chemistry is too much to disregard or act like it was just a temporary thing, they are each other’s lobsters and they couldn’t quit each other.

* And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put them... She’s going to go along with the plan but she won’t forget who made her have to do it

* And I can’t let you go your handprints on my soul It’s like your eyes are liquor like your body is gold...again Karlie’s astrological sign is Leo and the Leo color is Gold…she’s love drunk on her eyes and she’s left a mark on her forever (see This Love and Dress)

* You’ve been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks so here’s the truth from my red lips...Taylor tries to push Karlie away or talk herself out of her feelings but Karlie calls her on her bullshit

I Did Something Bad

* I never trust a playboy but they love me so I fly ‘em all around the world and I let them think they saved me...Playboy as in boy she uses as her beard (play things for her to use- Don’t Blame Me) they think they can be the one to change/save Taylor (make her straight?) or possibly that by them going along with the plan she owes them something more since they “save” her reputation/career, she pays for all their expenses as her beard

* They never see it comin’ what I do next ...New Romantics; poker ref...she fills them in on the situation?

* This is how the world works you gotta leave before you get left...Foreshadowing her leaving BMR so she doesn’t lose Karlie?

* If he drops my name then I owe him nothin’ and if he spends my change then he had it comin... Did a beard say something he wasn’t supposed to in an interview that went against the NDA contract... Was he taking advantage of Taylor and her money?

* They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one they got their pitchforks and proof their receipts and reasons... “Witches” historically were thought to be lesbians (see Salem witch trials - see Willow) Even if you aren’t one - Some of the rumors of her being with her friends other than Karlie (Martha Hunt)...The proof is obviously in the rumors of her and Karlie and possibly Kissgate..and lots of witch references in evermore

* So light me up go ahead and light me up...Acknowledging she’s gay?

Don’t Blame Me

* Don’t blame me, love made me crazy if it doesn’t you ain’t doin’ it right lord save me my drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life... Don’t blame her for all the crazy things she’s had to do to keep her relationship with Karlie Lord save me - “pray the gay away” type ref

* I’ve been breaking hearts a long time and toying with them older guys just playthings for me to use (see “I Did Something Bad”)...Boys = beards

* For you, I would cross the line I would waste my time I would lose my mind they say she’s gone to far this time... She would give it all up to be with Karlie (see lyrics of evermore)

* My name is whatever you decide and I’m just gonna call you mine I’m insane, but I’m your baby...Reference to Karlie writing her name in the sand wrong or maybe using “James” or another pseudonym like maybe Kayda?

* Echoes of your name inside my mind halo, hiding my obsession I once was poison ivy but now I’m your daisy...

Alleration of Karlie’s name? (Echoes of your name) Halo = Victoria’s Secret Angel.. Poison ivy (see Ivy) Daisy - all the pictures of them with daisies during the Big Sur trip and other

* And baby for you I would fall from grace just to touch your face if you walk away I’d beg you on my knees to stay... She would give it all up and come out if she could ....If Karlie wanted to leave (Victoria secret fashion show “walk away” ref) she would do whatever she had to do to make her stay

Delicate - there’s more lyrics here but you’ll get the point with just a few

* Is it cool that Taylor told Karlie how she felt? She knows their relationship/situation they’re in is delicate

* Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs stay here honey I don’t want to share...She hates that Karlie has to leave and pretend to be with Josh, she gets jealous

* I pretend you’re mine all the damn time...She hates the bearding

So It Goes - all Victoria Secret fashion show refs

* See you in the dark all eyes on you my magician all eyes on us you make everyone disappear ...From Taylor’s perspective - Victoria secret fashion show interactions - usually all eyes are on Taylor but not now, it’s all eyes on her and Karlie and Taylor see’s only her and her “shiny abs” when they’re out there together on the stage

* Cut me into pieces gold cage hostage to my feelings back against the wall trippin when you’re gone...it kills Taylor to have to hold her love for Karlie inside and not share it with the world as much as she hates when Karlie has to leave after their time spent together

* Cause we break down a little but when you get me alone it’s so simple cause baby I know what you know we can feel it... When they have to be apart it’s hard but when they’re together it’s all worth it...They both know what they have and what they have to do to keep it

* And all the pieces fall right into place getting caught up in the moment lipstick on your face so it goes...Everything so far is going to plan but sometimes they forget and have to deal with a revelation (lipstick on Karlie’s face as they walk out of the apartment and get papped)

* I’m yours to keep and I’m yours to lose you know I’m not a bad girl but I do bad things with you so it goes...Seems like Taylor is saying the ball’s in Karlie’s court so to speak? The bad things = lesbian things 😂

* Met you in a bar all eyes on me your illusionist all eyes on us I make all your grey days clear and wear you like a necklace I’m so chill but you make me jealous but I got your heart skipping when I’m gone... From Karlie’s perspective - usually everyone is looking at Taylor but not at the VS Fashion show. She’s the sunshine in Taylor’s life but she does get jealous sometimes...But she knows she has Taylor’s heart and that Taylor misses her when she’s gone

* Come here dressed in black now scratches down your back now so it goes...Victoria’s Secret fashion show when they’re in black dresses holding hands walking down the runway and likely what happened after the show 😉

* You did a number on me but honestly baby who’s counting I did a number on you but honestly baby who’s counting 1, 2, 3...They really can’t help themselves with each other and their feelings * 3 years has gone by (2014-2017) (see invisible string - bold was the waitress on our 3 year trip. * 3 album contract with UMG?

Gorgeous - the rest of the lyrics speak for themselves I think, so here’s a couple.

* You make me so happy it turns back to sad ...When they’re together vs when they’re apart (Karlie w/Josh)

* There’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have Due to the management teams keeping them apart?

Getaway Car

King of My Heart - Karlie is a Leo (Lion - king of the jungle)

* Salute to me, I’m your American Queen - Karlie referred to Taylor as the Princess because she has blue eyes, red lips, is beautiful and wears a crown in the Best Best Friend Vogue video

* Cause all the boys and their expensive cars, with their range rovers and their Jaguars never took me quite where you do...She feels nothing with any of her expensive beards like she does with Karlie

* Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep... They have to sneak around to avoid being seen together in intimate situations

* Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury... She’s making all the effort to make the relationship work. I’m sure some guys have tasty lips but typically the ladies win that one

* Is the end of all the endings? End Game

* My broken bones are mending She uses breaking bones metaphors often (sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me refs?)

* Up on the roof with a school girl crush

* She’s got a girl crush

* Drinking beer out of plastic cups

* Karlie and Taylor at the Knicks game

* Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

* Taylor wants to know that Karlie wants her for her, not what she has

Dancing With Our Hands Tied - a lot to unpack here so I’ll try to do it briefly

* I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason...Depending on when they first met, Taylor saw Karlie either irl or modeling or through mutual friends and had a crush instantly

* Deep blue, but you painted me golden

* Karlie is Leo...astrologically represented by 1 color...Gold

* I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us...If they came out what would it do to their relationship and their careers?

* So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?... Is it possible to do it? Maybe not now, but can they weather the storm until they can make it public?

* I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down Possible Kissgate ref?

* I'd hold you as the water rushes in...They’re both fire signs...a water sign beard (Joe is a Pisces) could be the extinguisher to squash the rumors of Kaylor

* If I could dance with you again...She’ll do what she needs to do to keep this relationship

Dress - another big one

* Our secret moments in your crowded room They've got no idea about me and you...Victoria Secret fashion show moments

* There is an indentation in the shape of you Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo Again with gold and the tattoo...permanent mark (see End Game)

* Say my name and everything just stops I don't want you like a best friend...Not really sure if it could be any more obvious..Karlie and Taylor were each other’s “Best Friend” and Taylor is letting it be known that she wants her more than that

* Only bought this dress so you could take it off Take it off (ha, ha, ha) Carve your name into my bedpost 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend...She wants to “do bad things” with Karlie (see “so it goes”)

Call It What You Want

* Possible start of the bearding ref?

* Sounds an awful like “So Karlie would you want to?”

* Windows boarded up after the storm ...They have to be apart, possible arguments over what the plan should be? Also see Death by a thousand cuts on Lover

New Year’s Day=End Game?

* Last song with BMR..Taylor’s contract is over

* Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor...Candles are a recurring prop in her music videos, assumed to represent the passing of time of their respective contract periods * Polaroids - Karlie was asked in an interview what she collects, she said Polaroids...They took lots of Polaroid pictures on their trip to Big Sur * Taylor used the image of a Polaroid as her album cover in 1989

*You and me forevermore...direct link to the evermore album and song...she said in the MAATHP documentary that her life is planned out at least 2 years in advance...looks like maybe some of the folklore/evermore songs were already in the works or at the very least she went back and drew inspiration from other albums.

* You squeezed my hand three times in the back of the taxi

* could 3 years be the length of Karlie’s contract with Josh? (See So It Goes)

* 3 album contract with UMG?

* I can tell it’s gonna be a long road They’re going to have to suffer through at least 3 years of not being seen together in order to avoid speculation

* I’ll be there if you’re the toast of the town, babe Or if you strike out and you’re crawling home Whatever Karlie’s reason is for going along with the Josh stunts, Taylor will be there to support her no matter what...Strike out is a baseball metaphor and Karlie is a big St Louis Cardinals fan (baseball ref also used in peace on folklore...”swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches”)

Crawling home…opposite of what Karlie used to do as a Victoria Secret model and “walking” the runway

* Don’t read the last page But I stay When it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes... Try not to look too far ahead, things can go wrong and it can make the time longer or seem longer

* I want your midnights But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year’s Day Taylor wants to be with her now, but she knows in the end she’ll be with her forever after the charade and games are over.

* Hold on to the memories they will hold on to you Just keep remembering the good times..they’ll get “us” through until the games are over

#taylor swift #kaylor #karlie kloss #gaylor swift #part 3 #reputation #lyric analysis

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stardustdates · 3 years

Text

The lonely angel and the beast - Douma x reader

Scarstardust’s comment 1: aah I am so obsessed with Douma currently TwT I wish I had been here for him :( this is more of a fic than anything so I used she/her instead of you! Tho it’s very sad- please proceed with caution. Douma isn’t the villain in this btw!

Stardust’s comment 2: Honestly I even think this is the most fucked up pieces I’ve ever written.

Stardust’s comment 3: Just finished writing. I feel terrible, but I’m proud of my writing, I promise I’ll offer you all Douma fluff after that-

TW: dark topics, c//lt, s//lf h//rm, violence, mentions and detail of human s//crifice, ab//se of minor and adult. Reader discretion is advised. This is purely fiction and should not be romanticized or seen in a positive light.

Let the date the sacrifice begin.

A lonely angel. That’s what the leader of the Scarlet church was defined as. While the world saw her as a symbol of purity she could only notice her own tainted soul.

The members of the church often wondered why so much of her time was spent in the bathroom. Perhaps she really cared for her appearance or just craved the tranquility that she barely ever had. None of it. She was purely trying to scrub away her follower’s sins from her body. scrubbing her skin over and over again as she reopened the scars on her arm.

She was a symbol of purity thus humans wanted to cleanse themselves through her blood and that’s how her mentor started the habit of the ceremony drinks. Each follower would be graced with a cup of wine mixed to a few drops of the young girl’s blood.

Yet once again she was called to hear more of the sins committed by followers. Expected to reply to all of them with kindness. She was escorted to her confessional room where she found herself hidden away by thick curtains, a way to give the confessing sinner a sense of anonymity.

As she heard shuffling in the room she was waiting for another adult to alter her innocent child mind with a gruesome story for she was the messiah and god would speak to her. But she was met with the soft, monotone voice of a child.

“-Is anyone here? No emotion was carried in the kid’s tone.

-I am, dear lamb. She muttered, hearing a soft sigh on the other side of the crimson curtain.

-Hello. -The voice started again- I come to you today to confide in you sins I could not forget, for you see my parents have died, I lead followers equal to yours, yet I feel but void. I am much scared of becoming a beast.”

The slow breath of the boy could be heard through the curtain. Oh Lord knew (Y/N) wanted a peak through the curtain. The voice seemed about her age, if not just a bit older. A few minutes seemed to pass before the girl crawled to the curtain, extending her hand through them, abstaining from looking, knowing she would be harshly punished if she did.

“-Child -she started calmly- please let me hold your hand. -A break was given as the boy did as told.- I pray for your family, may they join the scarlet heavens. You will not turn into a beast for you shall miss them.

-Oh but. I simply could not bring myself to regret them. He stated bluntly.

-Then I will pray for mercy to be given on your soul, My ch-

-Douma. I’m Douma. She was cut by the boy, before finishing”

her hands moved on the other side of the curtain, reaching for the child’s face, feeling him flinch at the cold skin.

“-Then please, Douma. Come to me tomorrow. I will wait.” On these words her hands went back in her velvet cage.

And come back Douma did. days after days, months after months, year after years. Every day he’d reserve an hour to the other leader. Never to see each other’s face yet knowing the last of each other’s secret. Until he was invited to an event.

“Come to the velvet moon, Douma. It’s the day I will access the ultimate heavens.”

These were the words spoken to him. The last words he heard without a face on them.

For during a week he could not see the leader. Oh how he lounged for her presence. As time went by he had came to notice how she made his empty heart fill with butterflies he never expected to be alive. A glimmer of possessiveness. He wanted her to himself

But they were both now 18 for the girl and 20 for the boy. Four years had past since their meeting. Yet Douma had lost his humanity on the way. A sin he did not reveal to the woman he saw as an angel, too scare to scare her away. He didn’t know why this woman made him feel or how she did. He only knew tonight was her ascending, yet he doubted nothing unknowing of the nature of this ascension.

What horror he felt, what pure despair he met as he arrived. Finally seeing his angel’s face as she was tied by her arms to two pillars, suspended in the air by ropes, a white kimono around her weakened form. Shaking in anger as a knife was wielded by the man considered her mentor, by the awful smell of the glasses everyone were holding, this smell of blood and alcohol mixing. It was truly infuriating. He could not take it.

He looked at her once more noticing how she was nervously looking around, mumbling prayers and hopes of being saved. That until her so called mentor spoke up.

“feedeth yourselves mine own children f'r tonight thy presence shall summon our l'rd, drinketh the blood of the angel hath sent from above. Connecteth with the heavens of h'r purity. F'r tonight is h'r lasteth in this painful vessel the lady inhabits.“ the old man spoke an old dialect Douma could not fully understand but from key words. It filled him with more rage, as the man delt a violent stab to the newly adult lady. Striking her thigh as the blood pooled in a bucket placed under her. The rage to kill a thousand men. He felt enough rage to feel invincible. In his own mind he could have killed Lord Kibutsuji himself may he have been the one threatening the angel. His angel. Which received a stab to her other leg. The older man using the dagger to rip through her skin and muscles as a sharp scream got out of her.

But alas he could only watch as her body relax through the pain, giving up the moment she noticed the lost boy for he was the only one she didn’t know in the ceremony room. She knew from that moment that it was Douma. Her face turned peaceful at his sight.

She could very well see him walking toward the elevated space of the room. Watching as the considered mentor yelled at him to back away from the leader. Douma did none of that. It all went so quick. Quicker than the humans could see. All that they could register was the birch color haired man holding the old man’s head, his body a few feet away. He quickly dropped it hurrying to the barely conscious girl as he heard her followers all running away, screaming from the scene they had witnessed.

He was as fast as he could to untie her, trying to mush her thighs back together. The blood was too much. He wanted to eat her, his instincts screaming at him. The girl weakly laced her arms around him, muttering her thanks. He knew she’d pass out soon. He knew it would be over. They wouldn’t get a happy ending. There was no way lord Kibutsuji could appear and turn her into a demon, for alas Douma as himself was still too weak, hadn’t consumed enough to gain the power to change her himself. Seeing her struggle at staying awake he was like hit by lightning. Sudden realization of their memories flashing to him. For the first time in years he felt something. Immense regret filled him as he hugged (Y/N) tight, crying as he screamed and exclaimed his love for the angel.

“Angel. You can’t leave me. You’re mine. You made my cold heart work again, angel I love you. Don’t leave me. Angel. My angel. I love you. I love you. Please. I loved you. It’s true.”

He felt her hands on his face, like the very first time they had met.

“Douma, oh Douma... Come to me again tomorrow, I’ll wait.”

But her hands dropped away. For his angel had shed all of her feathers.

And as he sunk his fangs in her soft throat, taken over by his instincts, Douma promised himself never to love again.

#douma x reader #angst #kimetsu no yaiba #Kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba douma #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer douma #stardust writing

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ivyglow · 4 years

Text

the bigger the secret, the greater the damage | Carter Hart

A/n: I’m not used to finishing my pieces with angst, but I hope this one reaches the expectations. Let me know what you think by sending me a private message or an ask (feedback is always appreciated!).

Thanks one more time to @guentzgoal for proof reading this piece so fast. You’re the best, Tori! <3

Requested: yes

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: just to love birds dating in secret and fighting about it.

Prompt: 32. “It just feels really shitty, to be the secret boyfriend/girlfriend.”; 86. “could we pretend that we’re in love?” 88. “i guess i was wrong about you”

Working for the flyers was probably a dream for any media marketing undergraduate, but it was not a dream for you. Not when your dad was the head coach and made sure to let everyone know it after one month. He could not keep his mouth shut and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. You were each other’s only family and he tried to make sure you knew how much he appreciated you after struggling to accept your career choice during the early months.

The first few weeks working with the players sometimes consisted of focusing on the databases behind the doors and eventually even going as far as photographing some moments, and you were able to blend in, no different treatment or anything. Well, except for Carter Hart, he treated you differently since the first day and he made sure you knew it.

You liked the transparency, it was nice to not keep worrying if you were reading too much between the lines. But at the same time, you knew better. He and any other player were in the list of things you should never get too close to.

Still, your best reasoning was not able to keep you two apart.

Two weeks later, you two were constantly messaging each other and talking about everything and anything, except for your relationship with his coach. Carter was in the dark about you being the coach’s daughter, and he was mad for some days after discovering with everyone else.

It made sense why you were so private and wanted him to keep it low key.

It was not only the job, it was the father.

And of course, when Alain finally told everybody his daughter was working there, he also told that no one could lay a finger on you (especially his players).

It was too late, though. He probably should have told Carter sooner.

So the two of you kept talking. You developed a friendship with some other players as well, thanks to TK because he would always joke around about you being the daughter of the boss. But still, they didn’t know about you and Hart, you made him promised not to tell anyone, especially his teammates.

It was three or four months after you guys decided to turn the flirts and make-out sessions into something more serious.

Well, something more serious that wouldn’t involve meeting parents, posting pictures, or changing relationship statuses on social media. It was not quite what Carter was expecting, but still, he had you and you were exclusive and it was enough, or so he thought for some time.

It was a Sunday morning, the sun was creeping through the blinds hitting your face and giving the room a comfortable glow while your boyfriend watched you sleep beside him. Carter was used to the early morning practices, they were the reason why he was always the first to wake up, spending his time cooking breakfast, or just enjoying your company. Today was the latter.

He watched as soft snores came out of your slightly open mouth. You were holding him by his arm and even though the relationship was recent, it was long enough to Carter know some of your manners, he was very attentive when it comes to you. You were holding him not only for the warmth of his body but because you were used to sleeping holding something to. It went as far as when he wasn’t there, you would eventually cuddle a pillow that he mockingly dressed in one of his Flyers away jerseys.

You liked the routine you two created together, and yes sometimes you missed doing normal couple things like walking hand-in-hand or kissing without worrying if someone was around, but you had him and you feared that if things changed, your relationship would change, too, but for the worse.

Carter smiles softly at the faces you’re doing in your deep sleep and you stirred with the click of the camera, but his chest felt so comfortable against your arm and his muscles were in the best position next to your face. You could lay there forever.

And you did, not forever but as long as possible before you felt his stomach grumble in your hand that was laying flatly against his abs.

“Babe, as much as I would love to just chill in bed with you I really need some food” his voice was raspy, but not too much and that’s how you knew he was awake longer than you had imagined. You throw your body lazily on top of his searching for more warmth and lazily asking him for some stimulus.

His mouth was fast to found his favorite spot on your neck, close to your ear, the same spot that sends shivers through your whole body. He dragged his lips until they met your jaw seconds after.

“Wakey wakey, c’mon” he mumbled, hands gripping your waist.

You ignore his calls, choosing to get comfortable on that spot. “Alright, I’m posting this really cute picture and I thought you would want to help me with the filter since it’s you gripping me in your sleep…”

You jerked, almost falling off the bed.

“What picture?” Your heart racing, the image of your father discovering about your relationship with one of his players suddenly clouding your head.

Carter seemed to sense your uneasiness, “Hey, relax, I’m not posting it…” his forefinger found your chin guiding your face to his so it was easier to read what you were feeling.

“I’m sorry, Hartsy, it’s just nobody...we can’t let them discover...at least not like that…” you try to explain, the words suddenly vanishing.

The way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed a thin line you knew he was hurt. Carter wanted to tell everyone since the very first time, he wanted the whole relationship experience, he wanted to tell everyone how cute you were while sleeping, or how he cooked better than you, he wanted to post pictures of you two and comment in each one you posted. He had so many pictures of you. And he had small videos of you doing mundane things such as singing along your favorite song while driving and eating your favorite ice cream.

“It just feels really shitty, to be the secret boyfriend.”

“I get it, but you know I truly like you, right?” this time you were the one to bring his face to yours. You felt a pang in your heart with how his eyes looked everywhere before finally settling on your face.

He nodded, almost saying that he was tired, that he wanted someone real, something real. But it just took your lips to found his for him to give up the idea.

He didn’t want to give you an ultimatum, but he also did not want to keep getting hurt.

You two lay there for a few more minutes in silence while Carter’s mind worked on overthinking the situation.

“My mom’s coming to town next month…” he started once your fingers found his hair, massaging his scalp lightly, “I was wondering if you wanna meet her.”

You stopped your movements for some seconds before his question settled. “Meet your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds...a big step. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just...I don’t know, Carter…” you trailed off. Meeting the parents was a step you were not sure about, first, you wanted to deal with your own father, and that’s the answer you gave him, “I kind of wanted to have a talk with my father before taking this step.”

His silence told you a message, loud and clear. And before you could try sugar coat it, the pang on your front door caught your attention.

You grabbed your robe and left the bed after giving Carter a peck. The walk to your front door took you less than one minute and once you reached it you regretted doing it so fast.

“Hey, dad!” the high pitched tone made your dad look at you, a confused expression on his face.

“Hey, y/n, you were still in bed?” Alain entered the house discarding his shoes at the entrance and heading to the sofa.

“I went to sleep late last night…” you told him before sitting on the other end of the couch. “I was working on some essays…” well, now you lied. You went to sleep late because that’s what happens when you and your secret boyfriend have the next day free.

Your father gives you a pointed look and you answered with a small smile, before bowing your head to pick with the nail polish that was almost disappearing on your nails.

“Is there something you wanna tell me?” he asked suddenly and you cursed silently.

Alain knew you better than your mom did, he knew your traits and how you used to act when you were either nervous or trying to keep something. He wasn’t home very often in your childhood, but the time he could make it, he made sure to take the better out of it. He was attentive off the ice too.

“Nah, there’s nothing, dad. I’m just...exhausted.”

“Y/n, I’m your father…”

“I’m aware of that…” you mumbled sarcastically with a light tone before chuckling. He rolled his eyes.

“I was talking with your mom last night…” he started and you cursed again, cause when they teamed up to make you do something, it usually worked, like the time you did not want to go to the doctor after two days of high fever or when you wanted a cat but they both didn’t. “And she thinks you’re dating someone.”

They were a good team indeed.

And you thought it was cool that they weren’t together anymore, but they still talked like old friends.

“What?” you chided suddenly scared of what he was thinking. What if he wandered through your small apartment? It wouldn’t take much for him to find Carter.

“Yeah, she heard someone last time she called you and she also said you seemed to be at the clouds with distraction.”

A groan left your mouth and you got up, “I hate how mom’s always thinking that I’m dating someone. You know how I act when I like someone, dad, and I don’t like someone right now” you started your rant, “See, she probably heard this boy I was seeing for some months, we met at my first workplace, but it wasn’t nothing serious. The last thing I want right now is a relationship.” You were so caught up into making your father give up on the idea that you were dating you didn’t see Carter standing behind the door to the hallway, “and, to be honest, you know if it was something serious I would have told you by now. Have I told you something? Have I mentioned someone to you, dad?”

He seems to study your face for some seconds before making an unexpected turn, “You do remember we made a promise of not dating any of my players, right?”

You sight before nodding your head.

“This boy...was it really from your old job?”

You nod again. You couldn’t risk losing your father’s trust and you couldn’t go back to live with your mom, he was ok with everything and he meant it, everything but dating his players. It was important to him and you promised you wouldn’t do it. Alain was your only family on this side of the country. It was him or going to France with your mother.

“Dad, you know me when I’m in love. You remember Trevor when I was in middle school?! Or Dennis from our beach house...Do I look like I used to when I was head over heels for them?” Your question was answered with a chuckle, you were obsessed with these two boys. Trevor was the first boy you liked, you remember writing about him in your diary every day, and then Dennis came during a summer in high school, he was tall and very cute and you loved his dark hair.

“I guess you have a point, y/n,” he said finally, “I just came to see if you want to grab dinner tonight. I was expecting to grab lunch, but I supposed you didn’t even have breakfast yet…” his light tone says everything’s alright and you relax tossing your body on the couch.

“I’m sorry, dad. But dinner sounds perfect,” you wondered.

“Great, I need to go now. I’ll find someone else to have lunch with” he dropped a kiss against your forehead and you giggled with his words.

“You should get a girlfriend” you joke before he reaches the door.

“Yeah, who knows…”

You groaned, before getting up in minds of going back to bed, but Carter was already in your living room with one big step. You felt the blood drain from your face.

The evident look of hurt on his eyes.

“Harsty,” you try to start but he just shook his head.

“I knew I liked you more than you liked me, but I didn’t think you thought so little of me…” the way his hands were on his sweatpants pockets and his eyebrows furrowed, his whole body language screaming that he was hurt and it was on you. Your fault.

“No! That was me trying to keep us from getting caught.”

“You’re the one with this damn idea that we should keep it all in secret. You had the perfect chance to simply come clean and tell him everything, but you chose to lie...well, tell him half of the truth, considering you don’t like me the way I thought you did.”

Your eyes were watering and you tried to reach him, touch him, reassure him that it wasn’t as bad as you made it seem to your dad minutes ago. This time Carter didn’t back down and so you held him by his large shoulders, trying to catch his eyes, trying to make him see that it wasn’t your intention.

“Could we pretend that we’re in love?” he whispered, his tone so small if you weren’t so close you would never hear. “Can you treat me like this Dennis or Trevor guy just for once...cause I guess I was wrong about you.”

You stutter, the words getting stuck, your stomach low on your belly and before you could get yourself together he slips through your fingers.

“You don’t have to worry about keeping it away from everyone, there’s no secret to keep anymore. I’m done. We’re done.”

You can find more of my writing here.

#Carter hart #carter hart request #nhl imagine #flyers #Philadelphia Flyers #hockey imagine #hockey goalies #nhl fanfic #travis konecny #mels writing

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