#and if you can hold out for long enough you could start planting rose and blackberry bushes in places they wouldn't look | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 4 days

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Hey um if it's cool could I request, Welt, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gallager and Aventurine reacting to reader to questioning their interest in them?

An example: The confession

Them: I have feelings for you Reader: ... Um *shocked*.. I feel the same but.. *trails off* Them: but? Reader: *squints* you sure? About me? Please reconsider your choice. Them: ...

thank you if you decide to do this! No pressure though!

Jing yuan would raise a brow before vaguely asking you to come with him somewhere he had been meaning to show you for a while and thought that now was the perfect time.

The place where he takes you was just like any other flower garden you’ve been to before but from the way the light glinted off of the waters surface, to the way the flowers blossomed in a variety of unique colours, and other small things like that made the flower garden look ethereal.

Jing yuan chuckled at your expression.

‘You see why I brought you here?’ He asks.

‘…no, not really, why?’ You replied, looking at him in confusion.

‘I’m trying to show you that while you may not think yourself as anything special, much like this flower garden, there are a multitude of unique things tailored to you that make you shine in the eyes of the ones who views you highly.’ He responded as he lends his hand out for a bird to perch on and softly smiled as it moved up to his shoulder where it sat comfortably, trying its hardest not to fall asleep.

‘For every flower is a beauty to behold regardless of their shapes, their size or their colour that even a daffodil can be considered of equal beauty of a roses in someone’s eyes.’ Jing Yuan continues, looking at you from the corner of his eye to see whether his words were sinking in. ‘And my flower believes themself to be a withering daffodil but to me, they’re a rose unlike any other. Stubborn, strong willed, but.’

‘But?’ You echoed, nervousness creeping through your veins as Jing Yuan moved in front of you and leant forward so that he was right next to your ear.

‘But they refuse to accept words of their worth and beauty from someone who cares about them very much, but I hope to change that soon enough, if they let me.’ He whispers as he presses a kiss to your cheek and pulling away to plant a kiss to your forehead.

Dan heng

While he’s happy that you felt the same way towards him, but felt his heart sink when you told him to reconsider his feelings for you.

‘If you are not ready for a relationship, then I understand, but I wish that you wouldn’t look down upon yourself when you’re anything but what your mind is telling you that you are.’ He says as he holds your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as his eyes shone with concern. ‘Just know that I’ll always be by your side to resolve any issue you may have, for I do not wish for you to be burdened by this alone when I can help lessen it’s impact on you.’ He adds.

Dan Heng would do anything and everything in his power to make you see just how much you meant to him, even if it meant asking March to pull up pictures where his infatuation with you was glaringly obvious.

He would bring you poetry books and read out verses that perfectly describe his innermost thoughts and feelings towards you and how he views you on a daily basis. Dan Heng feels as though he could never convey just how truly unique and magnificent you were on his own. He’s tried but compared to the works of acclaimed poets, it just lacked fluidity in terms of the flow of words.

Everything else fades away when you entered his peripheral vision, almost as though he was made to notice your presence no matter where you were, only to just stare at you with a look that could only be akin to someone who had just found their other half after so long.

Welt would sit you down somewhere and want to talk about it because he truly didn’t think that these were your own words coming from your mouth.

He believes they were someone else’s and he hated that you had started believing this person’s words as reality, when they were the furthest thing from the truth in his eyes.

He wants to help you unlearn what everybody else has thought of you in the past because it doesn’t matter, their words hold no weight until you allow it to. No one’s perception of you was in any way shape or form a reflection of the real you, for every person you’ve ever had a positive effect on posses a different perceptions of you.

The only person who knew the real you was you but it was obvious to Welt that you might’ve forgotten who that version of you was by worrying yourself to death about the thoughts and opinions of everyone else. So Welt was more then happy to help you see that you were so much more then what you think.

He doesn’t know who wronged you in the past but they’ve left everlasting damage on your tender soul, but he was going to do everything he could in his power to show you the you that he sees every time upon seeing you.

Gallagher

‘I’ve got nothing to reconsider when it comes to you sweetheart.’ Gallagher was quick to tell you as he grabbed one of your hands, squeezing it. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘But-‘ you started.

‘No ifs, ands or buts.’ He interrupts you. ‘You’re prefect the way you are and I won’t hear otherwise because I’ll always go out of my way to remind you as to why i care about you, okay?’ He says as he lifted your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. ‘Just let me take care of you and get rid of those pesky thoughts residing in your head by telling them to fuck off.’

You couldn’t help but chuckle at this as you allowed yourself to find comfort in Gallagher’s side as you were greeted by his bodily warmth that made you into melting further against him. ‘I just don’t want to be a bother to you that’s all.’ You murmured, insecurity making your throat tightened, rendering it hard to swallow.

Gallagher felt his heart break for you as he brought his arms to your waist to rub soothing patterns into your side as he presses his face to the side of your head, pressed reassuring kisses there as he whispered sweet nothings as to why you were perfect, beautiful, sweet and caring of all whom you come across, whether they were deserving of it or not.

Aventurine

He understands more then you knew because the moment you admitted to liking him in the same breath as berating yourself, he was about to ask what was it about him that you liked exactly.

You were both in the same boat that was about to capsize from your shared self hatred for yourselves, but Aventurine would be damned if he let you think of yourself in any negative light when you’ve been nothing but a beacon of pure, genuine light for him since first introductions.

He’d much rather be the one drowning in self doubt than you.

He’d have you stand in front of a mirror and asks what you see.

‘Someone who’s lost themselves along the way,’ you answered solemnly, ‘someone who’s lost sight of who they once were because they were too caught up in the opinions of others and waiting on them hand and foot, only to revive nothing but scraps.’ You added and Aventurine couldn’t help but feel himself becoming infuriated, not at you but at the people who have made you feel as though you were lesser than, who made you feel as though you should be outcasted because you didn’t fit into their narrative.

However the sound of your sniffling brought him out of his need to get back at these people for you and saw that you were beginning to tear up and was quick to wipe them away before they fell. ‘Don’t weep for people who don’t have a heart, for they’ll always think themselves superior by materialistic means that they will inevitably loose to time and bad decisions.’ He tells you as he rests his head on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirrors reflective surface. ‘You on the other hand have something that they could never hope to obtain via money.’ He adds.

‘And what’s that?’ You asked, looking into his eyes and noting that despite their dullness, they were still the most beautiful and expressive pair of eyes you have ever seen.

‘Empathy, humility, compassion, kindness and an appreciation for the simple things that many overlook and possess the ability to see the beauty in broken things.’ Aventurine replies, his voice becoming soft towards the end, clearly referring to himself, as he held onto you tighter as though you’d slip from his grasp much like everyone else had. ‘So don’t compare yourself to others who should be looking towards you as an example instead.’

You moved your head to properly look at him, not use to seeing this side of him, so serious and determined to make you see reason. ‘You really mean that?’

Aventurine smiles as he kisses you on the nose, chuckling. ‘Of course! You’re my good luck charm, I’d be hopeless and in a whole lot of trouble without you.’ He says as he presses another kiss to your nose, adoring your expression as you scrunched up your face, muttering under his breath. ‘Cute.’

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barbiiecams · 15 days

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Hiii angel 💓💓 you have to do more of sugar daddy rafe plss 🙏 how they meet?

nsfw

i feel like you were already a kook. a rich, spoiled one at that. then because of your behaviors towards other people (both pogues and kooks you didn’t like) your parents had really had enough. like to the point where they cut down your allowance, yet that still didn’t seem to work on you.

one day your father told you “you need to get a job. no more funds from us.” which completely broke you down. you had been so dependent on them you’re entire life, because now you were 19 about to turn 20 with no real experience of having a job. in all your years, you grew up so wealthy. there wasn’t a need to have one. but here you were, begging your dad to keep you in his good graces.

“eventually you’ll need to work. where do you think i got all my money from?” he reasons, and now it’s starting to click.

“where would i even work?” you’d ask, almost on the verge of tears.

“a friend of mine named ward needs a gardener. he pays pretty well too. just start from there.” he says. this really blew you. who did you look like being someone’s maid?

“you’re joking right?” you stared at him blankly.

“it’s that or nothing.” your father gets up and walks away. now you really could cry, but you were more angry than anything.

—

you’d spend days holding off on actually contacting the cameron’s, but when the allowance money started to run out after a major shopping spree, you were ultimately left with no choice.

you called ward and asked if he still needed a gardener, and he most definitely did since he gave you the job on the spot. “you can start tomorrow at 8, if you’d like.” he said. money is money.

“of course, see you then.” when you hung up, you let out a breath of air, fully accepting your place and status now. you were the entitled kook princess, now turning into someone working for the cameron’s.

when the next morning came, you introduced yourself to ward, rose and wheezie. rose had instructed you on what to do, and ward explained the payment plan which was good enough. sooner than later, you’d started working in their front yard planting all kinds of flowers.

that’s pretty much how it looked for weeks. on top of that, not many people knew, which was a good thing.

you’d show up at 8, rose would make you something if you were hungry, then you’d get to work. but one day, it seemed like the angels were on your side.

you were working on figuring out how to keep that damn rosemary alive when you heard a voice behind you. and it didn’t belong to ward.

“who are you?” the man said. you turned around to see who was asking, and it was no other than rafe cameron.

“why?” you questioned. rafe recognized you too. everyone knew who you were, and it was embarrassing enough that the son of the richest person on the island knew you were working for his family. y/n y/l/n was supposed to be immune to working.

he smirks. “i know you.”

there was no refraining from the eye roll that crept up. “yea i bet you do.”

“why are you working here? don’t you just get what you want?” you were surprised he knew all this about you, aware of how much older he was.

“my dad cut my allowance.” you explained while working on the rosemary again.

“ouch.” he said while walking inside, abruptly ending the conversation. this kind of pissed you off but you paid no mind. moments later, he came back out with a glass of water.

“here,” he hands it to you, “it’s scorching out here.”

“thanks,” you accepted it, and took a long sip. for the rest of the time you were working, the two of you made small talk. even though the age gap was there, you still found enough to talk about.

an easy few hours later with rafe talking to you, and occasionally helping, your shift was over. and now suddenly you were perched on the bathroom sink, sundress bunched up and panties pulled to the side. rafe was balls deep, hitting that good spot and ready to bust one at any moment.

his hand covered your mouth to keep your moans quiet, and had the door locked so not a single soul could interrupt.

“fuckk,” he groans. “best pussy i’ve felt in a while, i’ll tell you that.”

a few more thrusts and you were done. your head falling onto his shoulder and ragged breaths for air.

your release sent his off, him quickly pulling out then sending you to your knees.

he jerked himself a few times, “open.”

doing exactly what he said, your mouth opened and you had your tongue stuck out. he finally cums, aiming for your mouth but some ended right below your eye.

when he was done, he wiped the remains from your face with his thumb, and had you suck on it. you stood up from the floor, wobbly and really hoping that no one heard anything.

rafe gathers himself, “a tight cunt like that doesn’t need to be working.”

you let out a laugh. “well here i am.”

“nah, not with me.” he zips his shorts back up. “i’ll take real good care of you. no more gardening.”

and ever since then, you were back to being the spoiled princess you were destined to be.

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writingforstraykids · 2 months

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Hii! So I don’t know if you’ve already posted this… but if not, could you please do soft thoughts for Changbin?? (He’s my bias)

Thank you!!! I love your work btw!! 💗

I tried my best since I don't really write for anyone else but Min, Chan, Lix and sometimes Innie now. I do hope I did your imagination justice🖤 thanks to @zehina, niki and kylei for their ideas☺️

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Changbin loves coming home to you after a long day, resting his head in your lap, and relaxing. He loves it when you run your hand through his hair, soothingly massaging his scalp as you tell him about your day. He doesn't stop planting tiny kisses on your other hand and your thighs, getting sleepier with every passing second he spends in your comforting presence.

Speaking of headscratches, he loves when your nails are a little longer or you get them done professionally because he loves the way they scratch his scalp just perfectly. Especially on nights when he has a hard time falling asleep.

Whenever you're not feeling well, whether at home or in public, his hand naturally finds your back. He rubs soothing circles on your lower back or all the way up and down, assuring you he's there.

Changbin always has an extra bottle of water with him, not wanting his beloved partner to dehydrate. He always makes sure to have one with him, reminding you as often as he can to "just take a little sip" and then relax for another ten minutes. Especially in the summer when you're out having fun with him, you're very glad about this sometimes annoying habit.

A, for you, rather amusing habit of his is helping you put on your socks and shoes. You have no idea why, but this man is on his knees faster than you can comprehend and makes sure you're all comfortable in your socks. Then he puts on your shoes for you, and if needed, he ties your shoelaces tightly enough for them to stay that way the whole day. He can get really sulky if you "forget" to tell him and won't let him help you.

If you're the type for candles, he has your back. No matter the occasion or time of the year, this man can find you fitting candles: lavender for when you're stressed, sweet pumpkin-themed ones for Halloween, red roses for Valentine's Day, or cinnamon and orange during Christmas time. He never fails to amaze you, and by now, you have an amazing, unique candle collection, keeping one of each flavor to remember forever.

Another one that has started quite early in your relationship is matching with him. It started with matching your outfits by color before adding matching sweaters. For your first anniversary, he got you matching keychains, and soon after, you had matching phone cases. Several ones, in fact, so you could change them as often as you'd like, and he always makes sure to change his own accordingly.

Changbin won't let you carry your own stuff for once. He's always hovering, holding your bag for you, grabbing your drinks and snacks, and if you'd let him, he'd hold your phone right under your nose the whole day as well. In his eyes, you shouldn't have to carry anything since you have a "pretty strong boyfriend who can take care of you." Yes, your coffee will still fit into his hand next to your shopping bags, handbag, wallet, keys, and donuts.

He loves acting silly with you, especially when it's only the two of you. Whenever you put on your playlist with girl group songs, he'll go crazy with you, outdancing you with ease. It's frustrating, really. You have no chance against those hips and goofy smile.

He craves your attention every second of the day. Binnie wants to wake up next to your sleeping face, to hold you as you sleep, and to the feeling of your heartbeat against his chest. Your heartbeat is his favorite sound, right after your laugh. Whenever he can, he places his head on your chest to listen to it beating and smirks at it, picking up pace when he calls you by one of his ridiculous pet names.

Speaking of ridiculous nicknames, Binnie is definitely the type for it. He calls you by the longest and weirdest-sounding pet names you only see in memes. Getting a laugh from you in return feels like another win for him. He'd do everything to make sure you're happy.

He is your number one fan, and he will never deny it. If you ever doubt yourself and he notices the slightest sign of it, he's there. Hyping you up and comforting you in everything you do. That also means he'll do everything to make you comfortable. He'll pick up your favorite food no matter the time, hold you close, or just let you cry on his shoulder for a bit.

He loves your body in every single way. If you ever have trouble accepting your body and don't tell him, he'll be pouty all day because he wants to help. If you want to change something out of comfort and not self-hatred, he's there every step of the way. He'll hype you for your new hairstyle or color, he'll help you pick out new outfits, and oh, he'll be the happiest man alive if you ever join him at the gym.

He carries you for fun. If he wants you to join him at the gym, cook dinner with you or watch a movie he'll pick you up and throw you over his shoulder carrying you there. Especially when you playfully protested against doing whatever he had in mind. You love him so much for this quirky habit.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland @kibs-and-bits

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angelwonie · 11 months

Text

LET ME IN || elijah hewson

PAIRING: elijah x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

GENRE(S): fluff, a bit of angst, friends to lovers, hurt comfort

SUMMARY: when your best friend turns up at your front door unannounced, you decide to find out why he's acting so strangely. what you don't expect is for some repressed feelings to bubble up to the surface.

WARNINGS: smoking, mentions of drinking + being drunk, kissing, eli has daddy issues oops

this is it y'all i've gone insane... he looked at me once and this is what happens. @boobyskeetz made me post this btw

It’s far along in the evening when you come home to find Elijah Hewson sitting on your staircase with his head in his hands.

He’s slumped over, leather jacket around his shoulders and a slowly burning, unattended cigarette in between the pointer and middle finger of his right hand. The sky is pitch black, the only source of light being an ancient lantern whose shine just barely reaches Elijah’s hair.

You’re shocked at the sight, to say the least, the heaviness of your grocery bags suddenly a faint background noise.

“Eli?” you move closer, albeit hesitantly, and your voice makes his head snap up.

When he looks at you, you fight back the urge to gasp. His eyes, half lidded, just barely glimmer in the faint light provided by the moon overhead, leaving room for his undereye bags to stand out. And they do stand out — so much that you almost don’t catch him stumbling over his feet ever so slightly as he walks over to where you’re standing.

Almost.

“Are you alright?”

It’s not a question, not really, but he winces either way. You stand close enough to see it, but immediately, his lips pull into a lopsided grin to hide his initial reaction.

“‘Course I am,” he takes a drag of his cigarette, and uses his other hand to take one of your grocery bags. “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

You nod, watching him drop the unfinished cigarette to the ground and step on it. You wonder how many he’s smoked today and consider asking, but decide against it upon realizing you probably don’t want to know. Instead, you let him take your grocery bags wordlessly, following him up the stairs.

It’s a short staircase, but you’re walking slowly – too slowly for your liking – and there’s a million questions burning on your tongue. You hold them back, mostly because you’re tired, but also because something in Elijah’s eyes tells you not to push.

He’s the one to speak first when you reach the right apartment. “Hey, your flowers are still alive.”

He’s referring to the roses he helped you pick out last month. It was a treat for yourself, for finishing all your assignments, and you had taken the whole ‘plant mom’ job pretty seriously, even putting the roses in a prettier vase and putting it on display outside of your apartment.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “They’re holding up really well.”

Elijah waits for you to unlock the door, then walks inside with you in tow. He wobbles a little as he drops down his shoes where he always puts them — where he’s put them ever since you told him three years ago it could be his spot.

You watch him shoulder off his jacket and start organizing the groceries in the fridge from afar, slowly taking off your outerwear. It’s warm inside, and your skin feels like it’s about to be set on fire after being out in the cold for so long. You think of Elijah sitting on your doorstep. How long was he waiting for you?

“Mind if I take a beer?” he cuts off your thoughts and you look up to find him with his hand on your fridge, an inquiring look on his face.

Now the lighting’s better, and you can clearly see his face. The creases between his brows, the focus in his gaze, the stubble that he’s let grow just a little longer than usually. Whether that’s a deliberate choice or simple forgetfulness, you’re not sure, but it worries you. His state worries you.

“Suit yourself.”

Maybe you should have said no, you think as he takes a sip of the drink and you’re reminded of the wobble in his walk. He’s probably had enough to drink already. To be fair, though, Elijah can be stubborn when he wants to, and something’s telling you today is one of those days.

When everything is either in the fridge or in a cupboard, you and Eli wander into the living room, shoulder to shoulder, without much to say. It’s messy, and he scolds you playfully for it — like he’s not the guy whose dorm you have to clean each time you come over.

You join his laughter though, and plop down on your couch a little more relaxed than before.

“How long did you wait for me?”

This time you manage to ask him the question, and he shrugs.

“A couple hours.”

He lifts the beer up to his lips and empties it, the can blocking out his view of you and your widened eyes.

What the hell is going on? His gaze tells you nothing. It’s so indifferent it makes you want to rip your hair out, because no matter how much he wants to pretend spontaneously coming over at three am is normal, it’s not. Especially when it comes to him.

Sure, if it were Robert, you would’ve figured it was just him acting on impulse, but it was never like that with Elijah.

“You could have just called,” you say finally, a slight quiver to your voice. “You should have just called. You know that, right?”

He meets your gaze, but not for long; after a second it drops down to his lap, like he’s embarrassed. You hold your breath, awaiting an answer. His fingers drum against the side of the couch, but then he changes his mind about that, too, and brings his hand to scratch the side of his face. God, what is he even doing? Trying to see how long it’ll take for you to snap and throw him out of the apartment?

Suddenly, he sighs deeply, dropping his hands in his lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You can’t help yourself from scoffing. That’s it? He ‘didn’t wanna bother you’? Maybe you would’ve believed it hadn’t he shown up unannounced at your front door in the middle of the night.

You almost open your mouth to say just that, but stop yourself when Elijah looks up again, and his bloodshot eyes meet yours. Something’s definitely not right. You can physically feel it, the tightening of your chest, the anger somehow pushed to the back of your head.

“Why are you here?” you ask him sternly, keeping your eyes on him. This time, he doesn’t look away.

“Do you want me to leave?”

It comes out meek, frail, as he almost chokes on his own words. You’re taken aback by the shiver in his voice, the drop of his shoulders. He places the beer can on your table and you swear his hands shake — just barely, but enough for you to see and for your heart to clench in response.

You shake your head. “No, I want to know why you’re here.”

He laughs humorlessly, leaning forward in his chair. His hands are definitely shaking, but you’re not sure whether it’s from the alcohol or something entirely different.

You know this face on him — he’s bothered by something, but doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always been like this, ever since you met him at school and watched his eyes glow with the same sadness after his teachers told him he should work on his grades. It was the same look on his face, the same millions of feelings threatening to bubble over the surface.

The only difference seems to be that now, he’s got no cap in his hands to close the bottle.

“I’m just tired, that’s all. Wanted to talk to you ‘cause the lads are too much noise.”

You frown and send him a look of disdain. Perhaps this isn’t something you should push on him, but seeing as he just magically appeared at your apartment while drunk, you do have a right to at least inquire what the fuck is going on.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well leave.”

Silence follows your statement; silence so loud you almost regret saying anything at all. He grits his teeth, and you swear you can hear it from across the table — though that might just be your brain playing tricks on you this late in the evening.

“It’s my dad,” he mutters finally, scratching his stubble. “Not that that’s much of a surprise.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing new, really,” he exhales, closing his eyes briefly. “Just, you know, the usual ‘you’re wasting your life by not going to college’ talk. Total bullshit, as always. The only thing wasted is those twenty minutes of my life I spent listening to him talk about it.”

You breathe out slowly, fighting against the urge to look away from his gaze. He keeps it on you, unwavering, but you don’t know what to say. It’s dangerous territory, one you haven’t ever entered fully, and the worry of hurting him pangs at your chest; the legitimacy of his vulnerability scares you and moves you all the same.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“He’s just worried, you know. I would be, too.”

“Why?” his lip quivers and your heart sinks in your chest; so quickly it forces a sudden nausea upon you. “Because I’m not cut out for this?”

“No, Eli, that’s not what I–”

He cuts you off — not with his words, but with his hands gripping the arms of his chair to help him stand. It’s so abrupt your words die down in your throat, leaving a dryness behind. Hovering above you, he still looks small, like he’s fading into the light above; barely even present as Elijah but rather as some mass of feelings clumped together, ready to explode.

“Do really none of you think I can make this work?”

It’s the alcohol, you think, god, you shouldn’t have let him drink any more — how could you be so careless? But no, it’s not your carelessness or his, and you know that, even in this state of panic, it somehow reaches your mind — the revelation that this isn’t a random outburst.

It’s the fruit of a tree that’s been growing for a long time; the ripeness isn’t fake, even if you’re unprepared to pick it.

“Do you really think that?” he asks this quietly, his voice barely audible, but it feels like he’s tearing your skull apart with a scream.

Do you really think that? The very assumption, the very thought, disgusts you. The thought that you could ever believe he won’t make it — it’s so unnerving you let out a shaky breath.

A movement of your legs from underneath you and you’re standing. Your feet tap against the floor as you walk up to him slowly, like approaching a scared deer. He is scared, you realize. Your fingertips tingle with the longing to run your hands over his face, but you hold them back, instead answering his question.

“No.”

He blinks, and you say it again: “No,” and again and again, “No, no, no, no,” until it almost doesn’t feel like a word anymore and more like some sort of bandage wrapped around a bruised bone.

“Your dad doesn’t think that, either. He’s just worried because he cares. Because he loves you.”

He falls silent. “I’m not so sure.”

“About what?”

He doesn’t reply instantly. You look down on his hands, only to find that they’re still shaking, and take a couple steps forward. Elijah doesn’t notice, you think, or if he does, he doesn’t show any disdain for your closeness.

“About love,” he says finally. “Isn’t love supporting someone unconditionally? Rooting for them, no matter what? That description doesn’t really fit my dad.”

“I think you’ve got it all wrong.”

You suppress the smile that threatens to form on your face when he sends you a confused look, his nose scrunched.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you can support whoever you want without much difficulty,” you look at the floor, thinking of what to say next. “That doesn’t mean you love them. If you love someone, it means you’re willing to suffer through discomfort and pain to make them happy. You’re willing to spend your nights worrying if they’ve chosen the right path. You let them into your apartment at three am. That type of thing.”

Thirty seconds pass before you finally look back up, internally shivering at the way his stare bores into your soul.

“You…” he trails off, wincing like it’s painful. Uncharted territory, yet again — that much is obvious from how your heart bangs against your ribs. The silence in the room makes you worry if he might just be able to hear it.

You hear him inhale sharply, taking a step back so he can sit at the edge of your sofa. Following suit, you observe his eyes shining in the light, less red than before though still uncertain. His shoulder brushes against yours and you breathe in — he smells of alcohol, but it’s oddly comforting in the storm of your thoughts.

Elijah’s head turns to you.

“Have you… ever thought this is all for nothing? That I keep leaving the tour bus with more and more bruises for no reason at all?”

Your fingertips tingle again, and this time you do nothing to stop them from brushing over the back of his hand. It’s stupid, probably, but it feels right, his skin against yours. He’s warm, really warm, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, even when he leisurely drags his forefinger down the side of your hand. It tingles, but you don’t move away.

Elijah’s hand doesn’t shake anymore when you interlace your fingers together. Finally, you get the courage to speak.

“I’ve held your hair back while you were throwing up, Eli. Tied your shoelaces after a tiring show. Corrected your lyrics until four at night so you could send them to your manager before dawn. I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe you were on your way to the top from the first time I saw you,” you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you look directly at him. “I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe in you.”

It’s silent after that. For a long time. But his hand sits clammily in yours like a pearl in a clamshell, and you hold onto it for dear life, praying he won’t slip out from your grip.

“Promise me you won’t stop.”

Your head turns, startled by the sudden statement. His gaze scans you from head to toe, lingering on the curve of your lips, then your nose and finally your eyes, where it stops and plants its roots. You feel it spreading almost like wildfire, the warmth that comes with it. You almost tremble underneath it, squeezing his hand a little harder.

“Won’t stop what?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Letting me into your apartment at three am.”

His gaze drops in a manner someone might’ve mistaken for lazy, but you know him well enough to recognize the vacillation in his eyes. You feel his fingers shiver in your embrace, every breath strained.

“Why not?”

You move closer, only by a centimeter or so, but he senses it — all the cells in his body seem to tingle with the paradox of wanting to touch and wanting to run all the same. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe rather it’s the arbitrary comfort that comes with it, that scares him to death, but whatever reason, he feels like he’s entering a deadly storm.

And perhaps it’s the alcohol and he’s not thinking straight, but this storm appears more inviting than any sunny day he’s ever witnessed.

He squeezes your hand tighter and leans down until his lips are impossibly close to brushing against your nose. You feel his hot breath on your face, sparks dancing across your skin to the smell of cigarettes and whiskey and beer, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

“Because I still haven’t gotten the chance to let you into mine.”

You smile — a real smile that you no longer manage to hold back. He mirrors the expression, albeit softly, lines appearing in the corners of his mouth. Let me in. Hues of colors appear in his eyes just as his shaky pointer finger grazes your jaw. Let me in. He cups your cheek gently, his lips parting in a breathless exhale.

Let me in, let me in, let me in.

He does. Just when the clock shows 3:47am and your shirt feels like it’s sticking to your skin, he finally closes the distance between you.

His lips brush over yours — it’s featherlight and careful, but you accept it all and kiss him back nonetheless. You can taste cigarettes on his tongue when he opens his mouth. Suddenly, the clock’s sound doesn’t reach your ears anymore, and all you can hear is the beating of your heart inside your throat. His finger strokes your cheek and his nose bumps into yours, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine.

You breathe in the scent of him, bringing your hands to tangle themselves in his hair in a moment of recklessness. Yeah, you’ve definitely gone absolutely crazy — but that’s a problem to solve later. For now, you’re kissing Elijah Hewson.

You’re kissing Elijah Hewson. It’s almost a revelation that dawns upon you like the waves of a tsunami, knocking the breath out of your lungs. It squeezes at your heart, a drawstring closing around it, and you have to pull away to breathe, to examine his face, puffy lips and tired eyes, to understand the gravity of your situation.

“We just kissed,” you say, and your voice shakes even though you strain to keep it calm.

“Yes,” he affirms, like it’s nothing. But it is something, and his eyes can't hide that. “We did.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“You think that’s why I did it?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles and you swear your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

He looks at you for a moment – your messy hair, reddened lips, the hesitation in your gaze – and makes his decision.

In less than a second, he drops down to his knees and you’re about to protest (because what does he think he’s doing?) until he grabs your hand and holds it between both of his. You furrow your eyebrows to hide the fact that you’re taken aback, though from the glint in Elijah’s eyes you figure you��re not doing a very good job at it.

He looks at you, like really looks at you, and you look at him the same. The fruit lies in the palm of your hand and squeezes to the beat of your heart when he speaks.

“I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he kisses your knuckles softly, and keeps them against his lips. “That’s why I kissed you, why I turned up to your apartment at three am, why I don’t regret it. Any of it. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Something pulls at the very back of your throat. You keep your mouth closed, but even that doesn’t stop a choked whimper from leaving you — a sound that makes Elijah’s lips quirk upwards. He smiles, and you attempt to do the same, yet all you manage is a half-laugh, half-sob that shakes though your body.

Embarrassed, you look down, and you can hear Eli chuckle before the warmth of his arms envelops you whole. He hugs you tightly against his chest, fingers coming up to stroke your hair as you partly laugh, partly cry into his shirt. And even though it should be humiliating, the act feels so powerfully comforting that you let him hold you.

“I love you too.”

You whisper this into his chest, breathing heavily. He pulls away and you look up, confused, but he smiles that gorgeous smile of his, with teeth on display and smile lines appearing, and cups your jaw. His eyes shimmer with undoubtable joy.

He doesn’t have to say anything. You know.

“That’s a fucking relief, huh?” he whisper-laughs and you join in on it.

“Yeah.”

And you smile.

He’s let you in, and you don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon.

#inhaler #elijah hewson #elijah hewson x reader #inhaler dublin #inhaler x reader #inhaler imagines #ryan mcmahon #robert keating #josh jenkinson

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 1 year

Text

With a reader who's not used to affection

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing: Dazai, Chuuya X Fem!Reader

Request: "Could you do Chuuya, Dazai and any other characters ( idrc cus i'm pan ) of your choosing with a reader that's not used to affection and sometimes flinches / shivers in a reaction to them being touched :)" ◜By lovely anon!! ◞

Genre: Fluff

Format: Headcanons + Scenario

Warnings: Suggestive content

Word Count: 1.2K

↳Osamu Dazai

§ Dazai likes physical contact, and he also likes to tease; but he's a really understanding and loving partner once he starts a relationship with someone he loves too (Though it will take him a pretty long time to admit that he has real feeling for you but that's another story), so he won't be on the teasing part too much. Emphasis on "Too much". He will still tease you, brush his hand against yours when walking next to each other and eventually get a hold of it, surprising you with a light peck on your cheek especially if you're in public and rests his hand on your shoulder, all to see how your cheeks rose in light pink and of course, because he loves the feeling of your skin against his.

§ He won't force you into anything or suddenly throw himself on you (although he will get there eventually, that's inevitable lol); he starts from small, simple touches and takes his time, preparing you step by step until you fully get used to him touching you affectionately, and then he'll start touching you in his own ways hehe~ (stopping here, gonna keep this SFW)

§ Dazai is huge on kisses- He'll kiss you on the cheek while throwing some cheesy pick up line or a tatty compliment your way, planting small, wet kisses on your neck with his arms wrapped around you from behind in the morning when you're making breakfast for him, pepper kissing your face when you're all snuggled against him in bed at night; he'll leave you with no option other than to adapt to his touchy attitude because this man cannot keep his hands off you for a mere second, and also because you do like it, despite quivering every time he lays a hand on you.

§ Loves to see you struggle when you want to give him a kiss as well, but this feels all new and you still find it hard to express your love for him through affectional gestures. The expression you wear whenever he catches you off guard with a kiss or perhaps a surprise hug has him walking on air, because you are so cute and he can never ever get enough of you. He has mixed feelings because although he wants you to get used to his touch, he also loves the affect he has on you. Don't even get me started on the shivers.

The documents you were working on were complicated, wordy and required a lot of concentration; but you were dazed ever since you woke up that day, and your boyfriend's lips on your ear shell were not exactly "helping".

"Mhm... Why did you stop typing, Bella? I hope I'm not distracting you from your work"

Did he actually mean it? Well, you had doubts about that.

"You kinda are right now, Osamu.

Dazai let out a deep breath and smiled when you shivered as your skin warmed up, lips brushing against the crook of your neck and getting pleased when he felt you bating your breath.

"Why is that, baby? I'm just minding my own business right now"

What was his business? To distract you from your work, or to get you all tempted? It didn't really matter; because either way, he was going to get what he wanted.

You.

"Maybe you should take a break and cuddle with me. I've heard that cuddling with your boyfriend can really help you ease your mind and relax"

This was the exact kind of stuff he would deceive Kunikida to fill up his notebook with, but in your case, it was mostly true. You could never deny how warm you felt when he was around, nervous but the kind that would make your heart flutter as his fingers traced down your skin.

"Yeah... Maybe I should"

Dazai smiled when you turned around and cupped his face to pull him closer, feeling deeply satisfied; not because of the fact that he won again, but because he got to feel your soft, warm lips against his.

↳Chuuya Nakahara

§ Chuuya is an extremely understanding partner as well. Given that his love language is acts of service, he might not realize it at first sight, but after a while he'll get a clue. No matter how much you've let your guard down, gasping and literally jumping in your seat when he places a hand on your shoulder is not a normal reaction.

§ He's the type of guy to blame himself for things that ae not even his fault, and this also happens in this case. Maybe it's because you don't want him to touch you, maybe he makes you uncomfortable and a thousand of maybes and doubts fill his head and make him insecure about the whole situation. He gets a bit distance at first, to give you the space you want to yourself; a space where he assumes he doesn't belong to.

§ It eventually hits him after a while, and makes him sad. Why aren't you used to doting touches? Because you didn't get them much. As your boyfriend, he feels responsible; so he showers you with love and compliment, and perhaps a loving kiss on your forehead or a possessive grip around your waist when you're out in public.

§ Chuuya starts teasing you once he feels that you've gotten used to his soft touches; not as much as Dazai would but still, since he loves to fluster you and he's only human (Or maybe not, but we're not here to talk about that). He won't do PDA since the risk of his enemies targeting you is high, but when you're alone in his office, you're not allowed to sit anywhere else other than your special spot, his lap. Having his arm wrapped around you while he's doing paperwork has become a habit of yours. Whenever you enter the room you automatically head to his chair and make yourself comfortable on his lap, where you'll always be welcomed; even when he has so much work to do.

§ Sleeping in the same bed is pointless unless you're in his embrace, right? His arms will be wide open for you to bask yourself in the warmth of his chest, to feel safe and secure because he will protect you, no matter what.

A nice night in winter should starts with a tasty meal, a cup of hot cocoa and end with your head on your boyfriend's lap when he's sitting in front of the fire place; although that part wasn't exactly planned by you.

It's pleasant to feel Chuuya's bare hands once in a while, delicately tracing down your cheeks to your neck. An comfortable silence is present in the room because you're both too drowned in your thoughts; Him thinking about how soft your skin is, like a new born baby, and you thinking about how much you don't want this to end, given how hard you're trying to prevent yourself from dozing off.

It's a battle between you and him, to see if you can keep up when his fingertips are so gentle, tenderly drawing meaningless patterns on your skin, your hair or wherever they can reach. After a few minutes you finally give in, drifting to wonderland, defeated by Chuuya's love and care. In the middle of your sleep you can feel his arms getting wrapped around you to carry you to bed, smiling softly when you feel his figure next to you, planting a small kiss on your forehead.

Everything feels so new, but with him by your side, you've got nothing to be afraid of.

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

Text

📖"Who'd You Have to Blow to Get That Part?"

Rated: Teen

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Tags: mild D/s elements, mild degradation, reference to past sexual encounters, slight daddy kink, lovers to enemies

Summary: Ransom won't let you leave the room until you agree to go out with him again.

You’ve been ignoring Ransom’s calls for a week when he finally corners you in your dressing room

“Well well well,” he simpers. “The Lyceum. You’re really making your way up from the chorus line, little girl.” You glare at him and he chuckles, doing a slow walk around your body, appraising you in a way that manages to feel both admiring and ridiculing at the same time. He plucks at the ribboned hoop of one of your panniers as he passes. “Well, la-dee-da,” he mocks. “What on earth is this? I think I like it.”

You swat at his retreating hand with a huff. “Who let you back here, Ransom?”

“Oh didn’t you know I know everybody? The director’s an old friend. He knows I have an interest in … the theater. Said I could poke around backstage if I wanted.”

“Great. I’m sure he didn’t mean in my dressing room.”

“Your very own dressing room, by the way: how fancy.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it, instead sauntering along past the couch and then over to the dressing table, feeling free to snoop around. You cringe when his fingers drag across the vanity top and land on the script you’ve left lying there. He picks it up and starts flipping through its pages. “Hmm …”

You fluster at the idea of him seeing all the notes you’ve scribbled in the margins. “Do you mind not touching my stuff?” you gripe. “Ugh.” Looking around for your robe, you spot it draped over the back of the dressing chair but realize that it won’t stretch around when you’re wearing the panniers. You huff and try to plant your hands on your hips assertively—a motion that is likewise hindered. You settle for gripping the sides of your whalebone-stiffened waist. “I don’t have time for this. Why are you here?”

“You’re one of the leads,” Ransom says, feigning impressed as he waves the packet of papers in the air. “So Daddy finally bought you a speaking part, huh?”

You feel your cheeks heat, hating him with every fiber of your being. “No,” you grit, hurrying over to snatch the script from his hands and set it back on the table. “I got this part myself, you insufferable piece of shit.”

“Been practicing those blowjob skills, then?”

Your jaw works as you fight not to react. “Why are you here?”

“I tried calling,” he says. “But you’re surprisingly hard to get a hold of these days.”

“Ever consider that I lost your number?”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s it.” He smirks and leans in close enough that you can smell his cologne, can see every detail of that stupid-pretty face, the hair that’s gelled and combed to perfection. He looks good, just like he always does, which only makes you hate him more. “I haven’t seen you twirling in your usual circles, bunny,” purrs. "Not since we parted ways. What’s it been now, three months?”

“Five,” you say tightly. “Though who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you,” he teases, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll admit I’ve hardly thought of you at all, since then, but …” He’s wearing a camel-colored coat and cashmere scarf, and he reaches past said coat’s lapel to produce a single, long-stemmed rose, presenting it to you with an earnest pout. “I heard about the role. Thought I’d stop by and congratulate you, see how you’re doing.” He lets his gaze drag over your half-dressed form again, eyeing you up appreciatively. “I still think about you, you know.”

“I thought you’d hardly thought about me at all."

He looks surprised for a second, before he’s chuckling at you again with that trademark blend of affection and condescension that you wish you hated more than you do. “Oh, bunny,” he coos, nudging your chin with the rose’s fragrant bloom. “You pay attention to what I say. I always liked that about you. That’s just how you are, isn’t it? So attentive, such a good girl.” You color mightily at that, too flustered to think of a waspish response like you want to. He sees this and smirks, dragging the rose’s velvet petals over your lips and humming in satisfaction when you hastily snatch it from his hand. “There we go,” he praises softly. “Pretty flower for a pretty girl. Though I worry how you’re doing when you don’t turn up in public for months on end.”

You force a prim smile. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to worry about me, or bring me gifts.” You turn around and stick the rose into a nearby vase, which already has a number of similar blossoms in it. Ransom’s is the biggest and freshest, but you rearrange it into the middle of the pack so that it doesn’t stand out as much. “And I’m doing just fine, if you really want to know.”

“Are you, though?” he presses. He steps closer, close enough that the frame of the panniers presses against his pants, and it’s easy for him to reach up and finger the strap of your stays. “I seem to remember you being quite the social butterfly.”

“Yep. That’s me.”

“You’ve missed the last several big events of the season, and I know you well enough to know that it’s not like you to play the shut-in.” He traces the strap from your shoulder, down to the top of the busk. You see his blond eyelashes lower onto his smug fucking cheeks as he shamelessly leers at the swell of your breasts, his fingers hovering just over the skin. “Who’re you supposed to be?” he asks. “Marie Antoinette?”

You scoff and push past him. “Unlike you, I get busy. I actually work for a living. And yes, that sometimes means that frivolous parties aren’t my number one engagement. So if you’ll excuse me.” You’re supposed to be over in wardrobe, getting fitted for your costumes. Danielle is probably already waiting for you. But Ransom blocks the door when you try to leave, and he does nothing to disguise the way he looks at your body when you stand back to regard him with another huff. “Ransom, move.”

“You should wear corsets more often,” he drawls, ignoring your protests entirely. “It actually makes your waist look tiny.”

You glare at him and try to move around him to grab the door handle, but he leans back against it so that you can’t pull it open. He grins, eyes raking over you from head to toe. You fight not to squirm, feeling more ridiculous than anything else, decked out as you are in your eighteenth century reproduction undergarments. You sigh and stand back, frustrated at how goddamn entitled he is. “What do you want?” you ask, knowing that he wouldn’t be here bugging you right now if he didn’t want something.

“I want to give us another try,” he says.

You wait for the punchline, or for him to crack a mean smile and laugh at how gullible you are, but neither happens and you’re left standing there blinking at him like a dummy, heart in your throat. “What?”

“You heard me.” He pushes off from the door and stares you down as he steps up close. He cups your face in a palm that’s soft from never having seen a day of work in its life. You have to fight not to press your cheek into it, and of course he notices, the overconfident prick. “I think we called things off too soon,” he murmurs. “Don’t you?”

“‘We’? You’re the one who ended it.”

He frowns thoughtfully. “Hhhm, did I though?”

“Yes.”

“Ehh, I don’t know if I remember it that way.”

You purse your lips. “I said I wanted to be exclusive, and you called me clingy.”

“Well that’s hardly ‘ending’ things …”

You scoff. “You said my pussy wasn’t ‘anything to write home about’ and left me at the restaurant.”

“Hmm. Well … maybe I was too hasty.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Hasty’.” More like genetically predisposed to assholery, you think.

“Hey, I mean it.” He grabs you when you try to move around him, holding you still by your upper arms.

“Let me go.”

“Maybe I never gave things between us a real chance, bunny” he says, trying to ply you with his words and sheer proximity. “That’s what I’ve been thinking these past months. That I let you go too soon, didn’t think things through. That I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“More like your dick,” you mutter, but he ignores you.

“After all, we had good times together, didn’t we? And you always look amazing on my arm, and the sex was soo …” he trails off, letting his fingers trace your skin. His mouth twitches when he notices your breathing picking up, your chest heaving visibly against the front of the stays. “Come on, princess. Just think about it,” he coaxes, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “You and I fit so well together. Don’t you remember how it was?”

You shiver instinctively, body reacting to the words he’s murmuring so intimately against you, to the way he’s touching you like he owns you. “Ransom,” you breathe. “I don’t—”

“I miss you, you know. I do. In my life, in my bed. I don’t like waking up alone.”

You ignore the flutter in your belly at hearing him admit that, and force yourself to shrug his hands away. “Well that would be your problem, not mine,” you say. He’s not good for you, and letting him bust in like this and insinuate himself back into your life will only lead to disappointment at best, heartbreak at worst. “Excuse me,” you grit when he walks backwards to block the door again. So fucking entitled. “Seriously, Ransom. I have somewhere to be!”

“I don’t really care. We’re not finished here,” he growls, eyes losing their charming sheen. “You can leave when I’m done talking to you.”

Your core clenches at those domineering words, and you have to square your jaw before you can bring yourself to insist, “Ransom, get out of the way. I’m warning you …”

“No, I’m warning you,” he says darkly, grabbing your arm and yanking you in hard against him. You gasp and catch yourself with a hand against his chest, but he keeps you off balance as his other arm scoops in behind you and holds you tight to him by your lower back. “Mmm, I like this,” he purrs, fingers finding the laces of your stays and grabbing onto them. He grabs you by the back of your neck with one hand while he tugs at the laces with the other. “Makes a nice handle. Good for moving you where I want you.”

“Get your hands off me.”

He tugs the laces again, jostling you forcefully. “Thought you liked it when I handle you.”

“What I’d like is for you to let me go,” you grit.

But he only narrows his eyes and sticks his face closer in yours. When he speaks, his breath fans out warm against your lips. “You’re confused, bunny. I should bend you over that vanity and remind you just how much you like it.”

To your shame, his manhandling and his domineering words turn you on, and you know he can tell—he can always tell what he does to you. That’s part of what makes him so infuriating, and so dangerous. “Let go of me,” you say lowly, surprised (and disappointed) when he actually listens, his hands releasing you so suddenly that you stumble back a step in your heels. His eyes bore into you slyly as you huff and right yourself. “What is your problem?!” you fume at him.

“Come with me to the Governor’s Ball,” he demands, confident and cocky as always, as if the past few minutes and your numerous refusals haven’t even happened. “You have an invitation, I presume?”

You glower at him. “Of course I do, you twat.” Given that your father is the Governor, it’d be odd indeed if you didn’t have an invite. “Awful presumptuous of you that I don’t have plans to go with somebody else,” you snap. “After the way you treated me? I wouldn’t take you as my date to a dive bar.”

He chuckles, and it’s in that low, self-assured way that drives you absolutely bonkers and makes you feel like a “pick me” girl all at the same time. “Oh, bunny. You think I don’t know you better than that?”

You shoulder your way around him to yank open the door. “You don’t know me at all, jerk.”

You inhale sharply when his hand clamps around your wrist and he shoves into you from behind suddenly, pressing you up against the door and slamming it shut with your combined bodyweight. “I know you better than any man alive, princess,” he hisses, grinding his hips against your ass and kissing your cheekbone in gentle counterpoint when you gasp at his audacity. “Shhh shsh,” he hushes. “Don’t worry, now. You’ll have an excellent time, I promise. Now, you go get fitted for your little costume, and I’ll send a car to pick you up Saturday evening. Say nine o’clock?”

You huff, flustered by what an utterly presumptuous asshole he is (and by the way your cunt is clenching on nothing, being pressed up against a surface full-body by him like this). “You know what your problem is, Ransom?”

He drags his nose across your cheek with a chuckle. “What’s that, bunny?”

You can’t get as much leverage as you’d like, pressed up against the door the way you are, but you do your best and jab back into his solar plexus. And his shocked, breathless grunt is a satisfying indicator that your elbow has met its mark. You turn around and take his face between your hands to peck a kiss of your own to his cheek. “It’s that people’ve been paid to make you think you’re better than you are your whole life,” you whisper sweetly. You kiss his cheek and then let him go, leaving the room before he can regain his breath.

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anne-chloe · 5 months

Text

Trust me | Three |

Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary : As Sarah's next door neighbour, you're often Mrs Williams' last resort as a babysitter. Sarah had never liked this, but she can be extremely unreliable at times. One stormy night, Sarah grows frustrated with her baby brother and babysitter, resulting in saying a phrase that she later wants to take back. Now, you are stuck in The Goblin Kings realm with little hope to returning home again, unless Sarah can reach the castle and defeat Jareth in time.

The smell of flowers and greenery happened to be thick in the air. The scent wafted towards you from the only open doorway, enticing you forwards and into the unknown.

You were aware that everything was some sort of trick set up by Jareth, so you reminded yourself to remain cautious while heading forwards.

Inside the room lay a lot of flowers. You were fascinated to see that the ceiling was made entirely of glass, and that this room appeared to be a greenhouse. You wandered further in, sticking to the main path and refusing to stray, but you allowed yourself the opportunity to gaze at the gorgeous bundles and bunches in the room. Flowers of all sorts, roses, daisies, hydrangeas, peony's... thousands of flowers and all a rainbow of colours.

You paused in delight when you came across a patch of sunflowers. Sunflowers happened to be your favourite flower, and just the very sight of them brought comfort and joy. Your parents had planted them in the garden a few years ago to bring some colour to the house. In your eyes, it did more than just being colour to the house—it brought bee's, sunshine, happiness and an overall warmth that made you skip everywhere.

You reached your hand out the touch the sunflower, to assure it was real and not another trick that Jareth was playing on you. Sure enough, as the tips of your fingers brushed against the petals, you smiled truthfully at its realness.

But you couldn't linger over flowers for too long.

You pulled your hand back and turned on your heel, continuing onwards to the other side of the room, where you were starting to see the entrance to another room. You willed yourself to pick up the pace, wanting to find Tobey and leave as quickly as you could.

Your thoughts drifted to Sarah. Had she noticed yours and Tobey's absence at all? It seemed as though The Goblin King had made it so that she couldn't hear your yelling through the door. You didn't want to think of the possibility that Sarah had simply gone back to sleep, enjoying the quietness of the house.

What would happen when Mr and Mrs Williams returned home to find you and Tobey missing? Would Sarah explain that she had wished you both away? Would she feel even an ounce of guilt that she had condemned you to The Goblin Kings twisted games?

You didn't want to doubt that Sarah would have a change of heart. You wanted to believe that she'd make a wish for you and Tobey to come back. But that seemed extremely far fetched and unlikely as you navigated the castle deeper and deeper, finding yourself no closer to Tobey or an exit.

A stray sunflower caused you to stop before reaching the doorway. It lay on the ground, completely out of place. You stepped up to it, reaching down to pick it up by the stem, but something in your mind suddenly warned you against it.

You retracted your arm immediately and stood up straight, frowning down at the lonesome sunflower. As much as you desired to hold it and twirl it between your fingers, you felt as though something might befall you by doing so. It was obvious that Jareth had placed this for you to pick up; but why had he done so? It must be another trick.

You inhaled deeply and stepped over the flower before continuing through the doorway. If you had looked back, you would have seen the way the petals withered and curled into themselves.

You don't know what trick could have come from picking up the flower, but you didn't want to find out. For all you knew, another trap door was underneath it, and picking it up would only trigger the trap. You didn't want to risk being stuck in a hole again, where you might have no other choice but to ask for Jareth's help.

You decided that if you could withhold from asking for his help for as long as possible, then your chances of escaping would be much greater. You didn't trust Jareth, and asking for his help meant that you did.

Coming into an empty room, you paused directly in the centre. You looked at all four corners, your heart sinking into your stomach when you realised the doorway you had come from had now disappeared. But there was nothing inside the room. However, looking up, you saw a doorway higher than you could reach on your own.

Your brows furrowed together in focus, a frown deep on your face as you scanned the room again. And again. But nothing was there that could possibly help you. How were you supposed to reach the top?

Your answer came in the form of rumbling. The ground shook for a moment as stairs started to rise from the floor. You blinked rapidly at the appearance, and immediately you made a start for the stairs.

Just as you reached the top, where the doorway was, it suddenly closed off and reappeared in the ceiling above you. You gaped at the trickery, feeling betrayed at your hope being snatched so fast from you. Is this The Goblin King's game? To dangle hope in front of you and then snatch it away last second?

You steadied yourself against the wall and stretched your hand upwards, trying to touch the doorway. You were too short. So you jumped to try and grab the side, so you could attempt at pulling yourself up, but again that was a futile attempt.

Jareth then appeared standing normally in the doorway. You squinted as he came into view, wondering how he had somehow altered gravity in a way that made it possible for him to stand like that. He crouched down and leaned his hand through, offering for you to take it.

You stared at his hand for a beat, your own hand beginning to rise to take it. Just as your own fingers brushed against his, rumbling caught your attention as several more staircases started to rise from the floor, the walls and the ceiling. None of them directed to where you wanted to go, which was up, so you ignored them and continued to stand on tip-toes to grab Jareth's hand.

Then, like the doorway had done, at the last second, the stair case underneath you turned into a slope. You immediately lost your footing. A gasp left your throat as you felt yourself falling, then sliding down to the bottom of the staircase.

You rolled across the floor. Sitting up, you hissed at the throbbing in your bottom and your hands, which had taken the brunt of the fall. Then, you accusingly looked back to Jareth, who remained crouched in the doorway, his smirk wider than ever and a devious glint in his eyes.

You pushed yourself to stand and clenched your fists by your sides. "What was that for? I was accepting your help!" You whined, feeling deeply betrayed that he had, again, snatched away your hope at the very last second.

"You rejected my gift," Jareth pointed out smoothly.

His gift? Did he mean the sunflower?

Your bottom lip trembled slightly. "I thought it was another one of your tricks, so I ignored it," you explained, now feeling rather silly for thinking that a flower could set you back. But you couldn't cross it off as a possibility when everything was so incredibly odd.

Jareth shrugged. "And I decided to not help you here."

You couldn't believe how sensitive The Goblin King was. He was seriously offended that you'd ignored his flower, and because of that he was punishing you for it. It was clear that Jareth did not take being rejected very well.

You tried not to stamp your foot out of throwing a temper tantrum. This entire situation was incredibly against you. It was like Jareth was deliberately keeping you away from Tobey.

"Maybe if you had given me the sunflower yourself, I might have actually accepted it," you quipped back, growing frustrated with this entire conversation.

"Maybe if you trusted me, you wouldn't be stuck all the way down there," Jareth countered in a teasing voice.

Trust him? You felt like screaming at the implications. How could you possibly trust him when all he had done was tease and trick you? He had stolen you from your world and forced you into some sort of game, which you didn't want to play, and was now keeping Tobey away from you. You wanted to blame Sarah for all of this, but how could she have possibly known her wish would come true?

Jareth stood up, tapping his cane against the doorframe, a sinister smile playing his lips. "Oh, [Name]. My dear, we could be so great together, if only you'd open your heart and trust me."

Then, he swished his cloak and disappeared, leaving you to stew in your emotions. You wanted to scream loudly in frustration, but that would do no good and would probably give Jareth the amusement he wanted.

Instead, you huffed and tried to reassess the situation. Lots of stairs leading to nowhere, some of them upside down, others protruding from the walls... how would you even begin to go about climbing the staircases on the ceiling?

Then, as if answering your question, new doorways appeared at the top of each staircase. You gasped and made your way to the nearest one, peering in and being confused when it only lead back to the same room. However, you noticed that you were now standing on the staircase that came from the wall.

You didn't feel unsafe. It was like gravity had shifted and made it so you could stand there. If it weren't for the actual situation, you would have found it to be extremely cool, and you would have complimented The Goblin King for his creativity.

So you began rushing up the steps and entered another doorway, now finding yourself on the opposite side of the room, across from the actual doorway you wanted to be in. You frowned and stepped to the side, eyeing the staircase that had attached to this one. It would mean you'd have to somehow be upside down, and you couldn't see how you could make that happen.

Trust me.

Isn't that what Jareth had said?

Sure, he played lots of tricks on you to throw you off your course, but he'd never actually put you in danger. When you fell through that trap door, you had landed so softly that you wouldn't have even believed that you'd actually fallen. And when the staircase turned into a slope, the fall down hadn't hurt as much as it should have done, considering it was made of stone.

You peered over the side, eyeing the upside down staircase with great skeptism. You decided to sit down and dangle your legs over the sides, and you took a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut as you pushed yourself off the edge.

You expected a falling sensation to take over, but instead your feet came into immediate contact with something firm. You gulped, opening your eyes, now aware that you were standing upside down on the staircase.

So, if you now flipped the room, you could get to the bottom of the staircase and run to the other side, and all you'd have to do is slip into the doorway that was now on the floor.

You took cautious steps down, but once you assured yourself that you wouldn't suddenly fall up, you darted to the other side. You reached the doorway and stepped inside, watching as the walls shifted and altered to match your gravity.

You breathed a sigh of relief. You had taken a chance and decided to trust The Goblin King, which is exactly what he said you should do. In a way, didn't that mean he had helped you? Would that mean that you had accepted his help, or had you just taken his advice?

Either way, you had escaped that room at last, and now you could move on to the next, to face whatever the next obstacle may be.

And as you left the room behind, Jareth watched with great interest, his smile wider than ever at the fact that you had listened to him. And wasn't obedience always rewarded?

#fan fiction #labyrinth #the labyrinth #Jareth #the goblin king #goblin king #goblins #magical creatures #maze #x reader #reader insert #female reader #ballroom dancing #ballrooms #fantasy world #fantasy land #the underground #David Bowie

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dross-the-fish · 5 months

Note

Alice and Edward's friendship is wholesome to me! Can I ask for a drabble where Hyde breaks into her house to come see her?

Here you go. Came out fluffy and kind of angsty. CW: References to an abusive relationship

.....

Alice had been crying into her pillow when she heard the latch to her bedroom window lift. Wiping her reddened eyes, she sat up, unafraid of the intruder for she knew who it must be. Sure, enough a large foot that seemed too long and wide for the short leg it was attached to planted itself on the carpet then ropy arms with hands as disproportionately large and broad as the feet pulled a wiry trunk and shaggy head through the opening.

Edward Hyde, looking like death warmed over and smelling strongly of gin, tobacco and wet asphalt after a rainy London night, grinned at her and plopped next to her on the bed.

“Hello, my dove, how are you holding up?” he chirped, kicking off his shoes and wriggling closer to her.

Alice faltered, unable to manifest the words to tell him how worn thin she was. It had been a hellish day, with Richard playing upon her weaknesses as he always did. Today he’d made her feel small, he’d made her doubt herself like never before. It was so difficult to argue with him when he talked as though his version of reality was a given fact that should be obvious to her.

He was always right.

And she was always stupid, or mad, or hysterical. Whichever suited him when he wanted to win.

If Richard said up was down, he expected her to believe it and even when she knew up was up and down was down Richard had a way of making her feel as though he knew everything and she knew nothing. Today in the middle of his usual torments Alice had finally broken down and burst into tears. She’d been so upset she had been unable to speak. Disgusted with her Richard had gone out and locked her in her room… because she couldn’t be trusted not to hurt herself or someone else in her state of hysteria. Or so he had told her.

She had been so sure of herself once, so confident, but her parents, Richard, everyone around her, made it so easy to believe that she was incapable of understanding the simplest concepts and over time they had whittled her courage down until it was no bigger than an acorn.

Only Edward ever seemed to believe her anymore. Edward who was mean and coarse and the worst person in the world but also the best, was the only person who didn’t treat her like she was a madwoman.

When she turned her wet eyes to Edward the smile ran from his face.

“Another one of those days, was it?”

She could only nod. He wiped at her cheeks with the rough heel of his hand, “I’m sorry, Alice. Was it Richard again?”

She gave him a look.

“Right, stupid question, who else would it be,” he grumbled, grinding his teeth as his anger rose.

“I could kill him, you know!” he hissed ardently, “I’d enjoy it! Every second of it! If you’d just let me! Please, Alice, let me kill him!” teeth gashed as the animal within him licked at his ribs, howling to get out.

She put a hand over his mouth, right over his protruding teeth and shook her head. She didn’t want that.

Edward did not calm, but he did settle, seething quietly, the hiss of air escaping from between his teeth reminding Alice of a boiling kettle. She rubbed her fingers into the fluff of his sideburns, enjoying the texture.

Even if Edward was not calm, he was soothing, in his own way. Feeling a little more grounded Alice found her voice at last.

“He makes me feel like a child, like I’m helpless and too stupid to understand what’s going on around me. He makes me feel so guilty sometimes just for…for…being!” she said, “I’m all of twenty-seven! He treats me like I’m helpless and seven years old again, he accuses me so often of being foolish and out of my mind until I nearly start to believe it must be so.”

“It’s a load of bunk he’s feeding you! You know you aren’t any of those things. You know,” Edward insisted, grabbing her chin and making her look at him, a hint of his brogue slipping out in his agitation, “Don’t let him make you doubt yourself! You’re not helpless, foolish, seven, or out of your mind. You’re twice-over as smart as he is. You know it!”

“I do, don’t I? I know it but he’s gotten so good at making me forget I know it.”

“Maybe he ought to catch you with me one night, see how childish he thinks you are then,” he gave a wiggle of one thick eyebrow, “You know how the thought of him walking in on us excites me,” Edward purred and rubbed his whiskered face against hers.

She laughed and pushed him away, “Well, that’s not saying anything. Everything excites you.”

He restrained himself, sensing Alice was not in a mood to be amorous tonight but her tears were all but forgotten and that’s what Edward had wanted all along. He satisfied himself with kissing her forehead and both of her cheeks. Alice cuddled into him, no doubt Richard would later complain that she stank and accuse her of skipping her bath but she liked Edward’s smell, there was something grounding in it for it did not reek of Richard’s cologne or the cloying potpourri her husband insisted on using to perfume every room. She had made the mistake of complaining once that it made her feel sick and gave her headaches. Richard had made sure to place a pot of the vile mixture on their bedside table. When she’d finally snapped and thrown it, he’d accused her of being unhinged.

She wanted to rub Richard’s sheets all over Edward until the smoggy, London-rain stink of him soaked into the expensive cotton, never to be washed out. She wished she could say she felt some measure of guilt for having an affair behind her husband’s back but she couldn’t muster it. She barely felt like Richard was her husband at all. Was it possible to betray a man if he was already her enemy?

“How long have we got until he comes back?” Edward asked.

“He won’t be back until dawn at least; he’s taken to staying out all night. Not that you’ll hear a complaint from me. Still, I worry he’s up to something. He’s probably hoping to provoke a fight. We’re having guests next Sunday and I just know he’s going to try something. They already half-believe I’m a madwoman.”

“My dear, you are in bed right now with one of the most infamous men in London. Most people would call you mad for that alone. Oooooh imagine the scandal if we did get caught. Your reputation would never recover!” he giggled.

“And you want my husband to catch us. Honestly, I’d think you secretly want to ruin me,” she scoffed.

He grew suddenly serious, an intense, excited look in his green eyes, like a cat eyeing a bird in a cage, “Maybe I do. Maybe I want to ruin you, corrupt you so much no one would ever recognize you again,” his breath was hot in her ear as he bent close to her, a hand stroking her hair, “Doesn’t that sound like the most delightful fun, Alice? Going down the road to ruin with me? When you lose everything and there’s nothing left you’d be free, as free as I am and you could do whatever you wanted forever. We could kill that husband of yours, we could turn the world upside down. Perhaps use your wonderful mirror and unleash pandora’s box upon the sleeping beast that is glorious London; we'll stand on top of the heap of rubble as it’s masters! Wouldn’t that be a fine thing, Alice?”

She grabbed him by his hair and gave it a yank, pulling him to look at her, he cursed and resisted her grip, snarling and baring his teeth at her but she held fast until he stilled.

“If I do that, I really will be a madwoman and I wouldn’t be Alice anymore. Would you truly want that?”

He went silent, the glassy sheen of her blue eyes quelling his anger. Thin lips came together in a tight line, concealing his teeth. He cupped her cheek, thumbing at the wetness gathering on her lashes.

“No, Alice. Of course, I don’t. I like you soft and strange and I don’t want to see anyone kill that in you.”

“I think you’re the only one who feels that way. Whether I’m here or in Wonderland I’m always too queer for anyone’s liking. I spend every waking moment pretending the things I love aren’t interesting and the things I hate are. I’m never allowed to say things as they are. I have to dress my words in frills and bows because naked words will upset people. Do you have any idea how tiring it is to have to put clothing on words so they’re right for the occasion? Somber enough for a funeral, dainty enough for tea, I’m so tired of it and-“ she froze, “-I’m doing it again aren’t I? Speaking nonsense…”

“I understood you, Alice,” Edward said, something gentle in his voice made him seem a little older and kinder, “I used to play an elaborate game of pretend until one day I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to be real, even if obtaining that realness meant becoming the vile monster you see in front of you.”

“Sometimes I think monsters are easier than men,” she turned her face to the side, staring out the window and Edward could sense she was drifting.

He brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheek, “Take heart, darling, we’ll find some way to get you out of this,” he put his lips to her ear once more and whispered “But, I still think we should kill Richard…”

#Edward Hyde #Alice in Wonderland #Crossover AU

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abstractnaturaldisaster · 1 year

Text

Steddie Flower Shop / Tattoo Parlor AU

Alright, buckle up! The angst is over. I hope y’all like the getting together part. Two more parts and then the main plot of this AU is done.

Part One I Part Two I Part Three I Part Four I Part Five I Part Six I Part Seven I Also on AO3!

***

Eddie woke up early and made coffee that could probably raise the dead. His sleep was fitful and he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he’d fucked up. Of course it was also the day before Valentine’s Day so Eddie truly had an order list a mile long. He pulled his hair up into a bun and got to work on the bouquets that he could bust out without thinking. His mind wandered the whole time trying to figure out what to do about Steve. When Eddie had put together the last dozen red rose-baby’s breath-greenery combination and drained the remaining dregs of the coffee pot, he had at least decided on a course of action. Steve hadn’t picked up his bouquet the day before and it was still sitting on the edge of the workbench in one of the buckets of water. If Eddie was honest with himself; he had kind of phoned it. He really hadn’t been sure if Steve was going to show up and he didn’t have time to waste the week of Valentine’s. He picked up the bouquet and started working to add dimension and interest. He pulled in purple hyacinth, helenium, and broom. He wove in ivy to fill out the sides of the bouquet and fiddled with the flowers until he was happy with the final product. Eddie wrapped the arrangement in butcher paper, checked the time, and decided it was as good a time as ever to head over to Steve’s.

“Steve?” Eddie asked nervously once he made it across the street. No one answered him for a minute but he heard some hushed whispering in the back. He shifted his weight between his feet and rocked from his heels to his toes until Robin slammed open the back door.

“You better be here to apologize and you better do it quick because Steve is in no mood.” Robin said as she walked past Eddie.

Eddie had never thought Robin was particularly intimidating until this exact moment. He had the urge to turn tail and run but Chrissy would be back at the shop by now and would never let him live it down if he came back holding this frankly ridiculous amount of flowers. Eddie walked to the back room where Robin had left Steve. Eddie had never been in there before. It was mostly a storage room with a small table and chairs that Eddie imagined Robin and Steve used for breaks and when they didn’t want to be out in the front of the tattoo studio. It’s just as homey as the rest of the shop with its mismatched furniture and plants. Steve had hung several bunches of flowers upside down from the ceiling to add to the garden witch vibes the whole shop had.

“Hi,” Eddie said, self-consciously pushing the flowers out for Steve to take. Steve looked at him for a minute. His eyes were red-rimmed and he had dark circles Eddie had never seen before. “Uhm, these are for you. I, er, missed you coming by yesterday.” Eddie finished weakly.

“I didn’t, figured you were probably busy, or whatever,” Steve answered.

“Oh, yeah it’s been a lot this week. But I always want to see you,” Eddie admitted.

“What?”

“I, uhm, maybe I should back up. I’m sorry I ran out the other day. I didn’t have the most stable upbringing and some of what you were saying made me nervous that you looked down on me for not having money, I guess. Which I totally should have explained and not just like shut down and run away. But like, I never had enough to afford a, err, ‘actual’ tattoo. And I know that I totally fucked up and you can tell me to turn around and never come back but I think you’re really special, and that drawing you did kind of took my breath away, dude.”

“Dude,” Steve smirked.

“Sorry, I don’t do this often or like ever, I kind of don’t know what to do with you honestly. I’ve never– that is to say, I’m definitely not good enough for you, man.”

“Man? I think that might be worse.” Steve laughed a little.

“I’m ruining this. I’ll just, uh, go. Sorry, again.” Eddie left the bouquet he was still holding on the table and starts to head out, rubbing the back of his neck a little nervously.

“No, Eds, come back,” Steve said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What’d you mean it like, Steve?”

“Oh, well, I don’t think you can call your Valentine ‘man,’ Eddie.”

“My what?”

“Oh, sorry you haven’t asked yet. I’ll wait.” Steve grinned.

Eddie could have passed out. He was pretty sure that Steve was going to tell him to leave, not patiently wait for Eddie to get his shit together and ask him out.

“Right, yes, I’m getting to that.” Eddie smiled back. He looked back up at the ceiling and realized all the bunches of flowers were the arrangements he’d given Steve. “Wait, you kept these?” Eddie gestured at the bouquets.

“Of course, I did, Eddie.” Steve answered. “I mean, I had sort of meant to only keep the first one. To celebrate opening. But then Robin noticed the green carnations in the next bouquet and said that was like a sign you might, uhm, like guys, or whatever, so I kept that one, and I dunno, it just kind of became a thing.” Steve was blushing and looked down at his hands.

“Oh, baby, that’s so cute, fuck.” Eddie went to sit next to Steve and placed his hand face up on the table for Steve to take. Steve reached out and linked his fingers with Eddie’s. If Eddie had thought he was going to pass out earlier, he was certain he was experiencing cardiac arrest now. His heart was pounding in his throat and he was sure his hands were clammy and gross. “You won’t be able to keep this up, you know?”

“Why’s that,” Steve asked.

“There’s nowhere near enough room to save all the bouquets I plan on giving you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh big time. Now that I have this? I’m not letting go,” Eddie gestured to their linked hands. “Not until you want me too.”

“Oh,” Steve gasped. “For the record, I do think maybe I was a little too harsh on you. I’m pretty used to guys like you giving guys like me shit for tattooing flowers.”

“That’d be pretty hypocritical of me, Stevie, as I also work in flowers.”

“Well you still have this whole, like, look. I probably bring your street cred down at least several notches.”

“I don’t care about that, hun. I live above a flower shop for god’s sake, there’s not a lot of street cred left in these old bones.” Eddie croaked out the last part doing his best imitation of Mr. De Lucas.

“You’re such a shit.” Steve elbowed Eddie in the side.

“You like me though,” Eddie said. “Even worse, you like like me.”

“Questioning that the longer this conversation goes on.”

“Rude. You wanna know a secret, Steve-o?” Eddie jumped onto the table to get closer to the flowers hanging from the ceiling.

“Hey! Get down. This is dangerous.” Steve couldn’t hide his laugh but he grabbed at Eddie’s belt.

“Hold on! I gotta show you something,” Eddie said. He moved closer to the first set of flowers he ever gave Steve. “Robin was on to something you know. I am not only a florist but I am a huge flower nerd and read all sorts of books about the languages of flowers. So this one was for luck opening your store. Daffodils are for new beginnings, Allium for prosperity, Laurel for success, and Hollyhock for ambition,” Eddie recited as he pointed out each of the flowers.

“But you didn’t even like me back then,” Steve said, a little awe struck.

“I might not have liked you but I did want to fuck you, big boy,” Eddie said with a wink.

“You’re actually the worst. I take everything nice I’ve ever said back.”

“Never,” Eddie said as he moved on to the second set of flowers he gave to Steve. “So, Robin was basically right about this one. Chrissy gave me so much shit for thinking you were straight but that seemed easier than being rejected. So lavender, green carnations, pansies, buttercups, all historical references to being gay. I figured if you understood what they meant you’d tell me early on if you didn’t like me that way.”

Steve walked around the table to meet Eddie by the third bouquet. He reached back up to hold onto his waist. Eddie was already getting way too used to having Steve’s hands on him.

“Next was my friendship offering and like maybe a little bit of a hint that I was kind of into you. The oak leaf geranium is for true friendship and feverfew is for warmth of affection. But you hadn’t given me shit about the gay flowers so I was also a little hopeful, hence the cyclamen. And the lilacs.”

“What do lilacs mean?” Steve asked.

Eddie flushed bright red. “Uhm, this was way too early and like still is but, uhm, they represent the first feeling of love.”

“So what was the next one for?”

“Well the victorians believed that the brighter the bouquet the more passionate the underlying relationship so I wanted to give you something bright and happy but it’s also like a ‘I’m very into you please like me back’ vibe?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me, Eddie?”

“Oh, telling, absolutely,” Eddie answered. “Also, Chrissy gave me so much shit about this one because it is probably worth like three times what you paid for.”

“Eddie!” Steve yelled and slapped his thigh.

“Listen. I was going big or going home, Steve. Now will you let me tell you about it?”

Steve nodded and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“Good boy,” Eddie noticed Steve tense a little at the diminutive. He set that aside to explore later. “Okay so this is a ranunculus and its symbolizes radiant charm. The roses all mean different things based on the color. Orange is for fascination, purple for enchantment, and red, as cheesy as it is, is for love. I also couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make fun of myself so this one,” Eddie points at a gorgeous orange flower, “is for impetuous love, I mean, I was moving way too fast and I didn’t even know if you liked me back, Steve.”

“I don’t offer to tattoo just anybody, Eds.” Steve was blushing again. “So are you gonna ask me, then?” Steve asked as Eddie hopped down from the table.

“Steve Reginald Harrington, will you do me the honor of being my Valentine?” Eddie asked and dipped into a deep bow holding his hand out.

“You’re ridiculous and that is absolutely not my middle name,” Steve answered.

“Not an answer, babe.”

“Of course, you absolute buffoon,” Steve agreed. Eddie took Steve’s hand and kissed the back of it, bringing Steve into a hug.

“Mean. And, uhm, would you mind being my day-after-Valentine’s-Day Valentine? It’s just like super busy at the shop tomorrow and I don’t want us to be interrupted.” Eddie added.

“Oh, you have plans for me?”

“Obviously, big boy,” Eddie answered.

“I accept,” Steve said. “Also, I may or may not have scheduled my week so I can be out tomorrow if you want a delivery van buddy.”

“Do I? Of course, Stevie!” Eddie was very excited about having someone to keep him company driving through all of Chicago tomorrow. Eddie looked at the clock in the back of the room and noticed the time. “Oh fuck it’s so late. Shit. Steve. I actually have to go. I’m so sorry.” Eddie gave Steve a quick peck on the cheek and rushed out of the shop.

“You are actually ridiculous, why do I like you?” Steve called back as Eddie ran across the street.

Eddie flipped Steve off in response. Eddie got back into the flower shop and both Robin and Chrissy were sitting at the workbench.

“Did you fix it?” Robin asked.

“Yes, but no time for details, I have to pack the van and I’m so fucking behind,” Eddie rushed to grab the order slips for the morning deliveries.

“Dude, we packed the van for you,” Chrissy said as she grabbed Eddie by the shoulders. “Calm the fuck down or I’m going to have to drive your god forsaken van.”

“Hey! Not nice! But also, you’re the best, I love you, BYE!!” Eddie yelled as he hightailed it into the van. He caught Steve looking out the window of his studio and flashed him a big grin and blew Steve a kiss. Steve made a big gesture of catching the kiss and sent Eddie back heart hands. Jesus. Eddie was in love with a fucking dork and he had never been happier.

***

Part Nine available here!

I’m still literally overwhelmed with y’all’s support. Thanks for reading!

Also if y’all know shit about flowers I know these are unrealistic to find all at the same time but Eddie has mad hothouse connections and he’s also a little bit magic.

Taglist: @a-little-unsteddie @maya-custodios-dionach @eboyawstenn @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @thehumblefigtree @throwbackthrowaway @micheledawn1975 @blisschaoss @vecnuthy @grimmfitzz @spectrum-spectre @croatoan-like-its-hot @momotonescreaming @beckkthewreck @korixae @citrus-owl @baron-zemo-trash @sleepdeprivedflower @nuagedemots @lololol-1234 @books-and-current-obsessions @acrolius @mightbeasleep @vi-an-te @gregre369 @i-must-potato @vampireinthesun @steveisabicon @child-of-cthulhu @whimsicalwitchm @aceflavouredyougurt @that-bi-gremlin99 @oxidantdreamboat @goodolefashionedloverboi @notaqueenakhaleesi @briceslayed @raisedbylibrarians @bejeweledbaby @avacrebs @magpiemuseum @majesticenbypancake @r0semaryyy @nerdsconquerall @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @shiyshy2004 @zerokrox-blog @straight4joekeery

#my fic #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steddie fic #tattoo artist steve #florist eddie #tattoo parlor / flowership AU

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littlelesbinonny · 8 months

Text

The Devil's Den

Chapter 24: In Which Fates Begin to Spin Pt. 3

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

::TRIGGER WARNING:: This chapter contains violence and gore. It's not super duper gross or explicit, but if you're squeamish please read carefully.

There was no response time as the next violent slam took her.

Whatever air had been left in her lungs was now completely depleted.

The force and shock of the blow to the rocks caused complete surrender to Alcina and her reflexes.

She was dazed and barely able to make a sound.

All she was currently aware of was the crack and fall of her body into what she assumed was a tree trunk and to the forest floor, all before being grabbed again and thrown into another, and another.

As her consciousness shook itself free and became vastly alert, the sparks of rage and awareness began to flame. Fast.

The breath she took before once more being slammed front first into the boulders allowed her to cry out, not just in pain but with utter fury. Blood-rage began to explode in her system and she felt the heat wrap her up in its searing grip as her teeth and fingernails grew, eyes swallowed in black abyss, and her senses billowed into full-fledged animalistic terror.

Her assailant was still a blur but she was able to make out the white glowing eyes through the chaos.

Alcina had only a brief moment between blows, but she rose solidly as it came towards her once more. With her feet planted in the forest floor she stood and met the attack with claws slashing and guttural screams gushing from her throat.

She could not tell what was up and what was down as the fight ensued. Her body was aching and burning with pain but her blood-rage kept her encompassed in the moment enough she could finally feel each slash of her own to her opponent. One of hers matched two of its. She could not, however, tell if her blows were making enough damage to slow this fucking thing down. Its strength had not seemed to wane in the slightest as it continued to toss her around and slam into her again and again. The burning stinging sensation all over her body was starting to become unbearable and it reminded her too much of what Mother Miranda had put her through long before.

At least it fueled her will to win.

The blunder of the chaotic attack left everyone on the sidelines nearly unusable.

Karl perceived his men with their guns locked on the battling crisis before them and panicked.

"HOLD YOUR FUCKING FIRE!" he shouted as he himself could not make out who was who.

There was no way to fire into the quarrel without the very likely possibility of hitting Alcina. Every gun was loaded with bullets Karl himself designed to take down even the strongest of enemies. Liquid UV radiation and gamma infused silver beads that exploded on impact. No rogue vampire or lycan could withstand them and live to tell about it.

Karl, Gerard, and Mateo began to lunge forward in a vain effort to help but they were too late.

Alcina's scream pierced the air as she was once more slammed face first into the boulders. Her attacker, still a haze of black and nothingness, took its claws and dug them into the tops of her shoulders and tore them down her flesh to her lower back, then vanished up and over the cave and into the darkness.

Alcina could feel the world come to a severe jolting halt as her blood-rage instincts took control to numb and overpower the agony that was setting it. The lightning strike of blinding white pain was more than she could handle.

Without any choice of her own everything went dark and her body fell to the ground and lie limp as death.

"FOLLOW IT!" Sylvia shouted, giving into her lycan transformation and swiftly following her comrades with determination.

Blood began to paint the forest floor and Karl grabbed for Alcina the moment he came upon her.

"Fucking move!" he shouted to the two vampires hot on his heels as he rose with complete haste, morphing quickly himself and dashing with her limp body out of the clearing and back towards the camp.

When Karl burst into the medical tent he was covered in blood. Alcina's blood.

Without a word the medics jumped up from their table and cleared a bed as Karl lay down the incapacitated vampire Matriarch.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Sable, the head medic blurted as she immediately began removing Alcina's corset, "is she still alive?"

Karl, who was easily 4 times his usual size in his lycan form, was hovering over the table taking deep ragged breaths.

"Yes, but I don't know for how much longer - hurry," his voice, much deeper and rougher, sounded.

"Gabe!" she shouted over her shoulder, "get the black trauma kit, I don't know what I'll need but bring it all."

For Sable to remove the rest of the corset she had to roll Alcina on her side which is when she saw the depths of the situation.

She didn't mean to gasp but there was no other reaction to have.

Alcina's suit was shredded like it had been caught in a boats propeller blade which wasn't pretty to begin with, but when her back was revealed Sable could see clearly the reason for haste. The gashes in Alcina were so deep and torn apart the white of her shoulder blades and ribs were glaring through the ripped flesh. Her very bones had even been gouged. Sable immediately grabbed for Gabe's assistance in propping her carefully in a manner she could tend to her.

"How the fuck... was this just one of them?" she asked hurriedly as she worked, handing him the torn corset.

Karl couldn't find a word to utter. He was growing bristly cold. His large clawed hands looked down at the fabric that was designed to withstand even the sharpest spear. This thing, this rogue vampire, had cut through it as if it was paper. Alcina's blood had soaked the material and he chucked it to the side as he watched with the stoking rage building in his gut.

"We're not dealing with anything we've ever encountered," he stated with a tone that was starch enough it sounded like it could break, "save her. Save. Her. I don't care what you have to do."

Sable looked up to respond but he was gone.

"Hand me the diamond cutters, this suit has to come off," she muttered to Gabe quietly, "get the the sutures and every pack of blood we have in this place, I also need the saline wash and gauze... and if you believe in a god, ask them for help."

Evening began to feel denser as the sun continued to crawl towards the horizon.

The day itself hadn't been too bad after your time outside but things were starting to feel uncomfortable and you weren't sure why.

You were worried for Alcina, of course, and while she gave you no details as to what these matters were, you had a decent hunch that they weren't as mediocre as she tried to pass them off as.

Still, it was none of your business but it sucked being left in the dark. All you could do was wait and trust in your lover.

The trusting part, that was easy.

The waiting? Not so much.

You were changing into your comfies as that familiar annoying tapping that had been absent for a while sounded again. This time you were right next to it.

Grabbing for the curtain on your door, you pulled it back and there at the bottom of your balcony was a crow looking up at you. Expecting it to dash off you stilled, but it did nothing aside from regard you with a tilted head.

And then you noticed the rest of them - 5 more perched on your balcony ledge.

Daring to open the door, you slid the glass slowly and the one at your feet hopped itself up to join the rest. That's when you noticed the myriad of new trinkets at your feet.

Another key, some more coins, 3 dollar bills, and a bright blue bottle opener.

When you peered back up they immediately took flight leaving you there to put the pieces together.

"Is... is this for real," you murmured as you picked up the items, "I'm apparently a Disney fuckin' princess now and didn't know it. I'm blaming this on Alcina, I dunno why, but I don't know who else to blame," you began to chuckle.

Looking out to the big tree in front of your apartment and not seeing them there, you shrugged your shoulders and sighed.

"My life is so weird, my life is so weird," you said shaking your head as you went back inside.

But, you figured if these were the crows you'd helped in the alleyway and they had somehow followed you home and adopted you unknowingly, you may as well play along.

When you returned with a plate of blueberries you set it out on the ledge and smiled, "I gotta teach these dudes how to swipe bigger bills," you cackled stepping back inside.

The bit of relief you had found from the discovery of your little crow family dwindled fast. If you thought the evening had felt dense, the nightfall felt heavy as shit. Were you just missing Alcina? Not knowing was making it increasingly difficult to fall asleep and no matter how you tossed and turned you couldn't get comfortable. And it was of course too late to take a sleeping pill so you had to accept it was just going to be a shitty night without rest and tomorrow you'd need 4 or 5 shots of espresso to make it through the day.

If only that was where your unease ended.

At some point you had dozed off, but in the recesses of your subconscious, shrill distant screams that you'd never heard before but somehow knew echoed through your skull. There was nothing you could see but you could hear it.

And then you felt it.

A pain unlike anything you had ever experienced sent you bolting up from your bed and tumbling over onto the floor. You couldn't catch your breath. You could barely move, and the whine that forced its way from your throat didn't even sound like your own. The sensation gnawing at your back had you all but riddled in a contorted position that was desperately grasping for relief.

Muscle spasms? No fucking way in hell was this muscle spasms.

You lie there wide-eyed searching for the ability to take in deeper breaths until the sensation finally began to dwindle. Your body began to relax but holy fucking shit you wanted out of it's lingering grip and now.

When you were finally able to move, you noticed once again the silence of what should be a bustling Manhattan below you. Instead it felt like you were in some kind of air-tight container that only allowed you to hear your own breath and heartbeat. Hunched for a moment you unsteadily reached for your phone and looked at the time; 3:23 AM. You were unable to hold your phone and it dropped to the floor as your muscles began to quiver.

What in the fuck was going on with you?

Alcina remembered next to nothing after the last boulder to the face. Until she tried to move.

The agonizing pain thrashed through her whole body but the burning numbness of a sting she couldn't release grabbed her breath from her. The next one she finally took came in as a pitiful moan.

"Lady Dimitrescu," came a voice she didn't recognize.

Alcina tried to blink her vision free of the haze but her pupils were still dilated from blood-rage. She was still in the thick of it. The memories of tonight flooded back with a hefty punch.

An unfamiliar face came into view. Lying propped up on her front inside a dimly lit tent, naked and covered with nothing but a bedsheet, she felt so laden that any movement at all was near impossible.

"Lady Dimitrescu... I'm Sable, I'm the medic here - please do not move, I know you're in a lot of pain and I'm doing everything I can to ease it, but please do not move. Putting you back together was not easy.

Putting her back together... was it that bad?

Alcina swallowed and the bitter metallic flavor and scent in herself made her want to gag.

This was nauseatingly familiar.

"Th-the - group -" she tried to ask through gritted teeth, trying hard to hide her discomfort.

Sable grabbed for a chair and perched in front of her, "everyone is fine," she reassured as she reached to the nearby table for a pack of blood, "I want you to remain still and I'm going to help you drink this, ok?"

Unable to do much else than obey her command, Sable placed the straw of the bag to Alcina's dry lips and helped push the liquid to her.

Cold blood was absolutely fucking awful but it was better than what she was currently tasting. It took very little time for her to drink the 20 ounce packet and her death grip on the thin mattress lessened slightly.

"What - h-happened?" Alcina croaked.

"You killed him, if that's what you're asking," Sable smiled as she grabbed a giant cotton ball and a bottle of betadine, "they found his body not too far from where you were attacked, his head was barely attached... you sliced him up real good. They're examining the body a couple tents down."

Alcina barely felt the sheet being pulled back from her battered body as the news swam through her mind. She got him, thank god. Now hopefully they could get some answers as to what this 'thing' is, where it came from, how many more, and how to fucking kill them.

She hissed as the brown liquid hit the wounds on her back. It was cold and they were hot and angry.

"664 stitches and staples. That's what it took to close these wounds. The rest seem to be healing on their own... I haven't had the blessing of treating someone from these rogue vampires yet so I apologize now if I hover too much. I'm very interested to see how you heal. And I will warn you; you are covered in slashes... I don't know how you're still alive Lady Dimitrescu, but we're all exceptionally grateful."

That wasn't exactly the news she wanted to hear, but there was very little she could do about it. Yes, at least she was alive.

"Heis - Heisenberg?" "He's off doing only god knows what. He's barely taken a moment to rest since he brough you in. Don't tell him I told you this, but I haven't seen him this rattled in a very, very, long time. Last night was... well, terrifying and rewarding at the same time. What too many of our soldiers failed to do, you succeeded and lived, now we can start moving forward with a proper defense I hope."

Sable finished the application of the betadine on the major injuries and sat back down on the stool, gazing warmly at the Matriarch.

"You and I are locked up in here for the duration of the day though I'm afraid. I can't risk someone coming in and spreading the daylight. We couldn't move you back to the warehouse before the sun rose, you were in critical condition and I wasn't willing to chance it. Mateo and Gerard went back, but they'll return when the sun sets."

Alcina was still trying to digest her memories, mangled thoughts and questions, and the information Sable had given her. She had so many goddamn questions and was too weak to ask any of them. Nothing was worse in her mind than being laid up when things needed to be done.

Mustering as much strength as she could, she peered back to Sable and huffed as gently as possible, "tell... tell me - ev - rything."

With a soft smirk Sable folded her arms across her chest, "you can't be upset with me because I did help save your life, but you really need to rest and recuperate. There will be plenty of time tonight to hear everything. I'm going to get you one more big pack of blood and then you must rest. I'll be right by you if you do need anything though."

Alcina, for once, did not argue.

The day would have otherwise been absolutely beautiful and enjoyable, except that Karl (and anyone else for that matter) had been banned from the medical tent where Alcina was and he had no news on her condition. He was in knots. He couldn't see her, he couldn't help, and his mind was spiraling with what if's, shoulda, coulda, and woulda's.

Donna was in quiet hysterics. She was easily the most composed out of everyone he knew and while he couldn't see her on the other end of the radio, he heard her physically crumple when he told her the news. He was sure the next thing she did after getting off the line was to contact Mother Miranda, and he'd be damned, but he would almost extend some gratitude to this bitch if she could help Alcina. Or them. Any of them.

Alcina could not fall. She couldn't. If she did that would mean the worst of all scenarios and he would be doubly damned to see the empire they built go back under Mother Miranda's rule. The peace would disappear, he had no doubt. Contention would return and so would war. It was no secret Miranda didn't like the lycans anymore than any of them liked her.

Alcina was the backbone, the pillars, the very embodiment and structure of their kinds continued coexistence.

And, she was his friend. Regardless of their shared picking banter.

If she died, that bode for a future he didn't want to be a part of going forward.

Everyone in the camp was very quiet today. He had finally sat himself down on the grass outside the medical tent and waited. There was not much else to do at the moment.

The sun was taking it's sweet fucking time setting and Karl was growing more and more agitated. He was on edge for another ambush, stressed about Alcina, annoyed being out in the middle of nowhere without his shop and all his explosives and other weapons. He was still cursing himself for not packing more. There was enough ammunition back at the underground city to blow this entire state to oblivion. The temptation to grab half of that and throw it in the mouth of that cave was just about to win out the level-headed choice to remain here.

Eventually the unzipping of the light proof tent sounded and he shot up.

Sable looked tired but she met him with a small grin.

"She's fine."

Had he not been in view of others he would have very likely celebrated with a howl.

Instead, Karl released his shoulders and nodded repeatedly.

"Good, that's good news - great news, actually. When can I see her?" he asked inching towards the entrance.

"Ah ah, she's still resting, which she needs immensely, and I need to see to it she's decent before anyone goes barging in there," she said grabbing his arm, "besides, we need to talk."

Karl's eyes lost a bit of their light and he gave her a stern look, "about?"

Sable sighed and stepped in closer, unsure how many other ears should hear this just yet.

"This attack is strange to me. Her injuries; she was wounded on nearly every inch of her body except her face. It makes no sense to be in a life or death match and bother to spare one part of their body... it seems calculated. Which, truthfully, makes this all a hell of a lot worse."

Unable to really chew on that for long, Karl combed both of his hands through his hair and huffed, "so, you're tellin' me this fucker knew Alcina or some shit?"

Sable shrugged, "I can't say that for certain, it's just bizarre. The other lycans were attacked blindly with no signs of any body parts being spared - I mean, Blake and Mitch for instance; they both sustained injuries to the face, which, in hindsight were almost nothing like hers. The soldiers we lost, men and women, those attacks were much more precise. Yes, the struggle of battle lead to several wounds but ultimately ended in a quick death, but she was damn near ripped to shreds and not once did he go for her neck, other arteries, or anything that would actually kill her. It seems like a completely conscious decision. From what I was told about the fight there was no reason this vampire couldn't have killed her several times, and, assuming he knew he was going to die from the wounds she inflicted on him... why spare her and flee."

He stared blankly at her. What the hell could he say to this? His thoughts went spiraling again and his gaze dropped to the ground.

If Alcina's attacker had done this with pure intention, then that would mean this was a planned attack, and that meant someone was behind this and it wasn't a happenstance, or some other fucked up mutant clan trying to weasel their way into the territory, which meant -

"Karl," Sable muttered placing her hand back on his forearm, "she's healing which is the important part, and she's healing quite quickly aside from her back... those may take a bit."

He nodded solemnly, "alright... come get me when she's up, ok?"

Sable agreed and he set off to grab the comm. He needed to talk to Donna. Immediately.

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu/female reader #alcina dimitrescu/original female character #alcina dimitrescu/reader #lesbian #f/f #fanfic #wlw #violence #gore #blood #bone #karl heisenberg

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nutklcker · 2 months

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Thoughts about the monsters/entities and how they work, under the cut, CW for talks of death, murder, blood, etc /pos

Coilheads:

- I think the way they kill has to do with the victim's blood. Like, a coil touches a victim and then their head blows off and they get a coil, and also their forearms disappear

- I think they like blood bend or something, they increase the pressure of your blood until it blows you up at your weak points, which, idk how pressure and anatomy work, but that being your neck and elbows would make sense to me

- From there coils manually place/insert the coil into their victim's neck, and I think through this way the victim will eventually turn into a coilhead

- Insides hollowing out, skin turning to metal, growing in size. I have no intelligent reasoning for this I just think that's how they make more coils tee hee

Bracken:

- I don't think the brackens are supposed to be indoors, and I think if they were outside they would "heal" for lack of a better word

- I like plants but I don't know much about non succulents, but I know some plants get darker when they don't get enough sunlight, which I think is what's up with brackens (additionally succulents turn white which could explain their eyes, I mean humans eyes are mostly water like how succulents are basically plants that are mostly water (simplification))

- As such I think that brackens that are outdoors will eventually change colors, their skin ranging from pastel pink and sand beige to chicken nugget tan and peach to rich rose red and chestnut brown

- I think their leaves could also change, like some could resemble oaks, and some could resemble echeverias, and pine needles (HEDGEHOGCORE <3) and so on and so forth

- Also, I think they would start growing flowers and/or fruits, and thorns/horns like how Giants have since the two are related

- I think most brackens are fungal in nature, considering they decompose incredibly quickly and sort of turn into spores it seems when they die. I think too if these spores land on something organic that organic thing could potentially turn into a Bracken (this is actually the lore for an OC I have!!! I should make a post abt them sometime)

Nutcrackers:

- I think the Nutcracker's "parasite" is actually its real body, and that when places in the large nutcracker body the tendrils and eye act as, basically, the body's nervous system. The tendrils spread throughout the limbs and slowly seep/spread through the metal and wood, so they can actually feel through the outside of their body

- As such I think they would bleed a little if they got cut, but it would take a long time for the blood to get overwhelming AND to close the wound

- it's possible to take the "parasite" out of the body but they have to do it themselves or risk snapping tendrils and bleeding to death, like snails (I think?) but once they disconnect they can get out

- I think once they're out they're deaf, mute, can't eat, still have their shitty vision, etc (imagine,,, imagine hold him gently... hold him like hamburger, perhaps)

- Also that thingy is totally related to the thingy the Jester is those is fambly

Spore Lizards:

- They are/were domesticated, ouppy dougy

- They're actually super smart like dogs or dolphins

- Capybara of the LC world, meaning they can befriend anything despite being super anxious

- Work like cats, they like staying with other animals without interacting, and the more you do it the more it trusts you you know??? Aminal <3

Giants:

- Not much to say aside from I think they could understand Brackens. Maybe they couldn't talk back but they could probably understand them mostly off of body language because Brackens are SO cats you know?

Anyways, I'm super soupy now and should go to bed, enjoy eating these thoughts if you read this far <3

#host #👁️#being cocon meant it took forever to write this if there's typos no there isn't /lhj #do we use tone tags too often?#actually you know what better be safe than sorry tbfh

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avatarmerida · 1 year

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Oh my titan, based off your last post of that cute art by @snoozu with what you said, I hope you write that, Hunter carrying Willow longer than he did in the episode and she is just chilling in his arms, unsure what to do. I'll definitely say, as annoying as Kikimora is, we can thank her for like 3 Huntlow moments, depends on how you count it. It is such a cute and silly concept, and I'm a sucker for a princess carry so this brings me so much joy.

This is less a fic and more like an internal monologue vibe but I just love these blorbos and this moment is on my mind. Based on this amazing art by @snoozu

———

It was not a very far way to fall.

Getting knocked off her staff was not a new experience, she had a flower on the way to ease her fall but before she had a chance to summon it, she stopped mid air.

She stopped and was met by something holding her close and then in a flash of gold she was safe on solid ground and mere inches from her face was Hunter. She felt like she had had the wind knocked out of her, but she knew that wasn’t the case. It was because suddenly she was staring into his wide, worried eyes. They went from pure determination to concern in an instant, and they were locked on her. He looked at her to confirm she was unharmed and Willow never wanted him to look away.

When Gus and Hunter had told her to let it all out and she allowed herself to cry months worth of tears, it has lifted a weight off her shoulders.

And one off her heart too, apparently.

Because now Hunter had that soapy dopey rose colored filter around him and despite the intensity of the moment, things moved in slow motion as she allowed her heart to race the way it hadn’t been able to in months.

Hunter was too distracted by his anger at Kikimora’s presence and the way she had endangered Willow to let their closeness fluster him as it usually would. He was aware of her, he always was, but carrying her felt as second nature to him as being carried felt to her. With Willow rendered speechless and unable to suggest otherwise, Hunter continued to carry her as he went back to the group.

When she remembered to breathe, she tried to steady herself as her thoughts swirled and bounced in her mind and made her feel utterly unsteady. He was so stoic, so kind, so handsome, so so many wonderful wonderful things and he was so so close to her.

Willow had always been someone who felt things so deep and loud, that even her muted colors were vibrant. She put on her best show, being just enough. She had been just silly enough, just aloof enough, just distracted enough where not even Gus suspected she was holding back. She had plenty of things to focus her energy on, the portal being just one of them, so some days even she couldn't tell.

But she could not grow her plants to their true normal height, lest she draw suspicion.

She could let herself think about her dads too long because she could not let the others see her cry and think that their optimism was in vain.

She could not hesitate when the wind outside roared louder and shook the house, she would be the first one to offer to investigate and insist it was no big deal.

She had to reassure them. She had to protect them.

But she still felt the yearning, the sadness, the fear; she felt it in the same grand multitudes she felt everything. But she had nowhere for it to go and so it sank down beneath the surface so she could carry more. But she suppressed the good along with the bad.

She knew she liked Hunter more than a friend. From the moment they met she had felt that bubbly giddy feeling start to form in the pit of her stomach and it slowly but surely aimed to recruit her heart. Right before circumstances became what they did, she had been building up to be bolder about it. They had gotten into the habit of messaging every night and his lack of flirting experience had blended nicely with hers (who could only claim to be more experienced second hand). She would say something cute, purposely throwing a phrase she was certain Hunter wouldn’t understand and he would send a very characteristic “?” and Willow would put forth exactly what she meant and she kicked her feet in delight as Hunter composed his response.

Willow would watch him start and stop and start typing again as he tried to match her energy, but he couldn’t decide what was appropriate and would often settle for single word or picture of Flapjack.

She looked forward to when they would talk without scrolls and she would get to hear him stutter. She could tell he was not usually at a loss for words and she relished that power.

He would compliment her so effortlessly and genuinely that Willow could tell he wasn’t actively trying to do it. He believed them true and therefore he said them, no pretense. He wouldn’t put in the clever buildup Willow did, he kept it simple (mostly due to his difficulty typing) and Willow believed she would surely pass away if he tried the way she did. If he was aware of the effect his simple words had on her, she wondered if he would care to elaborate.

He was rarely at a loss for words, once his interest was peaked he could talk for hours. Willow wondered if the way he flake ens out her could be compared to how he talked about his passions or if she was just hopeful. Hunter very rarely lacked an opinion.

But now she was the speechless one.

And her mind filled to the brim with all the soft, sweet, things she had been filtering. For every thing she said to him, there were three she kept to herself . It wasn’t that she was ashamed of them or didn’t want him to know, but she knew if she started she would never stop. The same way if she let herself cry. She needed to stay in control. She needed to stay subtle, just in case her feelings were too big. She didn’t want to overwhelm him.

She was certain he liked her too, which was not something she had felt certain about before. But being certain about herself had made her more certain about others. But as certain as she was, she had never been in this position before having romantic feelings being reciprocated. She was still adjusting to the idea that her friendships could be stable and she had to convince herself not to move too fast. Because this Willow could trust quickly again, her trust could be of value and still be given freely and if it broke it wasn’t because it was fragile. She trusted Hunter, despite what Amity and Luz told her about him in the beginning and despite the circumstances of their first meeting she knew how being labeled a half-a-witch clouded your mind. She knew there was more to him than even he realized and she knew she wanted to spend more time with him and she had no issue making that clear.

But then things got too chaotic to just pick things up where they had left off.

Under normal circumstances, Willow would have loved nothing more than to leave him all kinds of hints and wait for him to be comfortable with anything changing between them. But with all of them in the house, Willow worried that if something went wrong and he didn’t feel that way or had stopped feeling that way, that he wouldn’t have the privacy to process how he felt because she would always be there.

And now she wanted to always be here. So close.

Hunter ran a safe distance from Kilimora’s line of fire and Willow felt him tighten his hold on her.

He carried her like he had been doing it his whole life like she was precious, dangerous cargo. Like she was nothing and everything. He did not insist on releasing her so she did not bring it up and was content being secure in his arms, succumbing to the opportunity to admire the familiar look of determination on his face up close.

Months and months of longing stares that ended too soon came out with a vengeance, taking in the sight of him with no remorse. She felt so comfortable, she nearly forgot how she had gotten here in the first place.

The sound of Kikimora was faint, muffled like Willow was under water floating in a tranquil see as the world above did whatever it wanted. She watched Hunter react to what was being said, which wa s better than listening. Her heart leapt at the way his ears twinged as they listened, the way he frowned and squinted his eyes as he preocessee the words. He was so attentive and for some reason she found that impossibly endearing.

“Ugh, Kikimora is the worst,” he mumbled under his harsh breath. Oh, and the way he spoke! Ugh, he voice was a unique combination of sincere and sad, the way it was hoarse but bright. It was a marvelous contradiction, the way it would sometimes creak like an old house settling but could make any phrase sound new.

“Mhm hm.” Willow squeaked, having nearly forgotten he could see her.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Boscha is gonna get away with what she did,” Hunter muttered under his breathe as he ran back. Willow couldn’t tell if he was saying that to her or if he’d say it regardless. She pressed her hand to his chest and he looked down in surprise, confirming Willow’s suspicion that he had forgotten she was there and how close she was.

“Not for long,” she assured with a raise of her eyebrow and Hunter nodded, understanding what she meant as he ran back slightly so she could deliver her message. “Hey Boshca! Don’t think this means I’m finished with you.”

As Boscha scoffed, unimpressed, Hunter laughed in approal. Pulling her closer as he ran to catch-up, teleporting to allow them to make it to the circle as the group was finishing the glyph.

“Nicely done, Captain,” he said proudly, looking back to where the students were demolishing Kikimora.

“Thanks,” Willow laughed so response, taking in the scene as well. “What do you-.” As she turned back to face him, she found their faces were closer than before. She knew her face must resemble a rose in full blown and Hunter was not far behind.

“Ah, uh,” was all Hunter managed to say as Willow caught his eyes again. He gulped. Willow held her breath in case he whispered something. “Oh sorry,” he stuttered, crouching down to place her feet on the ground. Everything around them was fast and chaotic and when Willow’s feet hit the ground she resumed her part in it instantly as she helped finish marking the ground.

He released her as gently as he had captured her, placing her feet on the ground once as his face turned red, embarrassed he had prolonged his hold on her beyond what was technically necessary. Willow watched him work from the corner of her eye, knowing this was the worst time to get flustered but felt it fueled her.

As the ground shook and shone beneath them, Hunter rushed back to her side (had he actually left it?) and she felt him place his arm behind her back to steady her.

It was a blip like Hunter’s teleporting, but more intense and colorful and it was more disorienting. But in the collection of bright colors and flickering lights she saw him again, worried for her shielding her without a second thought. They were in an uncertain space, traveling hopefully to the skull hopefully in one piece and Willow was ready.

She was ready to be as loud as she was, as emotional as she was, and as vulnerable as she was. Her head felt clearer than it had in months, like a window finally allowing in a cool summer breeze. She felt light and refreshed and determined and ready.

When she opened her eyes and saw they had arrived safe and sound, she grabbed Amity’s hand and the two jumped with joy. She felt Hutner’s hand hovering over her back, always ensuring she was sure and steady. It felt so reassuring and natural, he did not make a show of it.

Even in his sadness, in his anger and confusion he was kind. He was so kind and sweet and silly and smart and so many wonderful, wonderful things. He did not insert himself into a moment,he would not intrude unless lives were at stake, he would never want to inconvenience anyone. She knew what it was like to try and make yourself small, but he consumed her thoughts with such intensity that that seemed impossible for him now.

She felt so may things. She was hopeful and happy and whole. She was mourning, she was tired, she was scared. These feelings were no longer tangled within each other trying to shrink but now flowed through her like an intricate network of vines supporting a mighty tree.

And among many other things, its importance equal in strength and conviction, she was smitten. It was a silly, stupid, smitten feeling that frivolous and frustrating but it did not have to fight to be felt any longer. Because now there was room for it to grow.

She has been on the edge of acceptance for too long, holding herself back from jumping head first until the waters were safer. But now she has no reason to hold back, no fear of the unknown to talk her out of really falling.

It was not a very far way to fall.

#huntlow #Willow park #Hunter toh #toh #for the future toh #winter toh #anon #ask #the owl house

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lostinlewis · 1 year

Text

Did it work?

Rating: M

Words: 1059

“I spent the whole of last year trying to get over you, I thought I was done…”

Lewis purred his words into your ear in an almost whisper as he stood just a little too close to you in the hallway.

“Did it work?”

He bit his lower lip with hunger as his eyes bore into yours, holding the most intense gaze as if he needed you to read his thoughts and know just how dangerous they were.

“Not even a little bit…you?”

His breathing was heavy, loaded with the weight of yearning for you, seeing you in person after so long had made his appetite for you insatiable and you both knew there was only one way to satisfy it.

“I tried…I really tried…”

His fingers brushed over your cheek so softly you almost couldn’t feel them, but that didn’t matter, your body ran with a shiver all the same at the slightest of touches.

Your lips were drawn towards them on instinct, so many nights you had with them to suckle on, so many nights they had been wrapped around your throat, it was impossible to not want the beautifully decorated fingers on your tongue once more.

“No one can do what I can do to you, can they sweetie?”

Your tongue found his tiger tattoo, placing the most exaggerated kiss on it as if to show him what you needed.

Your answer failed in words once more, the best you could manage was a shake of your head as you dared to even blink under his attention, scared that he might disappear once again.

“I want you.”

Lewis has given up his graceful inch of space he had left you to breathe, or escape, leaning into your neck to whisper those words to you, his hands now planted firmly beside your head.

“We can’t…not here, not now…”

His breathy chuckle tickled the skin of your cheek as his lips moved towards yours.

“Why not?”

There was little difference in your heights, especially in the heels you wore, yet as he stood just a breath away from you, his presence felt like he towered over you.

“People…our friends…they’re just in the next room…”

Your breathing was rapid now, your heart rate too. Lewis knew that as he danced his fingers over the base of your throat, drawing down to the breasts you had barely covered in your dress, you were struggling to find a reason why you couldn’t.

“Sweetie, I have never cared for anyone knowing how fucking wild you drive me and I’m not going to start now.”

His fingers found the cut of your dress, moving it to the side just enough to expose how pert your nipple was just from excitement.

As the cool hallway air met your sensitive skin your let out the softest of gasps, the moment he drew his lips around your teat, you could do nothing but moan.

“Lewis…shit…you’re making this so…so difficult.”

He sucked harder on your nipple before he rose up once more, leaving the taste of your skin on your lips as he kissed you.

“You know me better than anyone, you know that when I want something I want it now…and right now, I want you.”

The moment you felt his fingertips trace over the slit in your dress, drawn towards your thigh as if they were magnetic, you clenched in anticipation.

“What happened to the last time definitely being the last time?”

Lewis was a tease more than he was impatient, and he was very impatient. He drew the very tip of his middle finger ever so lightly across the material of your lace panties, the swirl of the pattern he was drawing made sure he teased every part of you that wanted him just as much.

“I said that before I saw that dress, how can I think about anything but tasting you when you wear something like that?”

His lips met yours once more, for a brief moment he let the kiss linger, he let you feel the heat that radiated off of him for you, he let his hunger engulf you until it was all you could think about, all you could feel, and all you could taste.

“You wouldn’t...not here...”

You should have known what you were doing with that sentence, there was nothing more Lewis loved than to be challenged, to be dared to do something even if that something spelled nothing but danger; he thrived on danger.

“Watch me...”

Within seconds he was on his knees in front of you, both of his hands holding the tops of your thighs as he teased your panties to the side with his tongue until his access to the very part of you he had spent the whole night yearning for, was unrestricted.

“Oh shit...”

His tongue hit your clit with no care for the fact that you both were a wall away from the rest of the party, his pressure was so strong it made your head fall back to the wall and your hand down to his braids, a desperate measure to try and steady yourself when really, Lewis was not going to let you off easy at all.

And he didn’t, he sucked at your clit like he wasn’t on his knees in the hallway of his friends apartment, he ate your pussy like he wanted you to scream out his name, like he needed you to tell everyone around who made you feel this good; he very nearly succeeded a few times.

He tasted your orgasm near, he felt your thigh tighten around the neck it was wrapped around, and he very almost gave in to the urge to have you finish on his face until he stopped himself, right at the very last second.

“Wha-why did you stop, I was so close?”

There was a smirk on his face as he rose to your level once more, wiping the parts of his beard that were covered in you, revelling at your frustration.

“Like you said, we can’t do it here sweetie...”

His fingers found your cheek to stroke once more, his others slotted in between yours, hanging in the air whilst he waited for you to catch your breath.

“Besides, I need to hear the way you moan my name as you cum one more time...”

#Lewis #ex #Did It Work?

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oboy-me · 1 year

Note

a scene where at least two of the brothers are negotiating/arguing over who spends what time/event with the MC, forgetting he might have an opinion (Lucifer+Satan would be amusing but pick your faves!)

Oh my gosh anon, you just know writing these two dummies fighting over him would be a hoot, but just for you I'm gonna include a bonus or two! 😉💕

——————————————————————————————————————

▸▸ Now what in the world led to this? You remember one moment Lucifer approaching you telling you he was thankful you kept this time slot open for him, but then Satan immediately swooped in and insisted you had plans with him... ?! Now you're just watching the verbal firefight start, trying to figure out what happened to cause this.

——————————————————————————————————————

"Absolutely not. I made myself clear."

"All you've told me is that you're taking him on a date, and that's not going to happen, Lucifer! I had plans with him first!"

Your eyes nervously flick down to your D.D.D., mentally begging Karasu for any kind of help in finding any texts you sent to Satan that would have implied a date on this day. Your concentration on Karasu's digging was broken only when you try to keep an eye on the squabbling brothers standing in front of you. Now you did remember telling Lucifer you had no plans yet for this day, and you know he replied to keep it that way, but...

"And what plans are those, Satan? Surely they can wait," Lucifer countered, his arms crossed tight over his chest to make himself appear far more threatening; he was certainly trying to get the younger one to back down and concede defeat, but... this was Satan. Satan was just as stubborn as Lucifer in his own ways.

"As you should no doubt be aware, a rare book faire has rolled into town for just this day only. I planned to take Y/N there to pick up some elusive textbooks for his classes. Would you be so bold as to hold him back from his coursework?" Now Satan held a smug look on his face, having felt he held the smoking barrel in this situation; the barrel was indeed smoking enough, but it was quickly revealed to be quite the backfire.

"Those? Yes, I am aware of which books those are, and I have already gone ahead and purchased them myself as a gift to him. I knew you were going to use this faire as an excuse to intrude upon our time, so I stripped you of your only weapon pre-emptively."

The moment Lucifer finished speaking, you swore the room's temperature rose to uncomfortably high numbers from just the absolutely offended little gasping growl that left Satan's lips. Oh he was mad, and it seemed the two of them had long forgotten you were even sitting there now as occupied as they had become with their little spat. You could practically feel the edges of your hairs burning from the culminating powers clashing, and even thought you were the... culprit...? you had to do something and fast. The second that thought crossed your mind you lips moved on their own;

"Lucifer! Satan! Sit!"

And what a mighty sit it was. Rather, their faces plummeted in to the floor at your feet with the rest of their bodies curled in to an uncomfortable groveling position, both scrambling to get their palms on the floor in a vain attempt to peel themselves off the carpet. The first to speak was an exasperated Satan, who sounded like a mixture of utterly winded from the shock of it all and rather taken aback you'd make him "sit" too.

"Y/N?! What in the world? What did we do?!"

"Part one to that question is you completely forgot I'm even here," you remarked pointedly, and you could see the shame starting to seep in to his features. It was then you turned to Lucifer, though a ping! on your D.D.D was the only reason he escaped your verbal lecture... for now. For you saw Karasu had solved your little mystery, revealing to you a chat that took place a couple days prior from Mammon's perspective:

[ Mammon ] ‹‹ Yo Levi! Is it done? ›› [ Leviathan ] ‹‹ I planted the message, but you guys seriously owe me! When Y/N finds out, he's totally gonna suplex all of us into the dirt! ›› [ Mammon ] ‹‹ Naaaaaaah! He wont find out! He'll be too busy keepin' Satan and Lucifer off'a each others' throats to notice that li'l message you sent 'ta Satan on his phone! Then, me an' Belphie can sneak 'em out while they're all tuckered out and we can have all kinds'a fun! ›› [ Leviathan ] ‹‹ Ugh! Shut up with your normie crap lololol. ›› [ Leviathan ] ‹‹ Though it's no fair you two are gonna take up all his time too. I wanted to play games with Y/N today; I even got a pre-release copy of that dating sim we were super excited for, just for him! ›› [ Mammon ] ‹‹ Hah, like he'd wanna when he's got a free ticket 'ta PARTAY TOWWWWWNNNN! ››

"... Part two, Mammon and Leviathan are at fault," you uttered to Lucifer as he finally felt the release of your spell on them both and pulled himself back to his feet.

"Pardon?" came both Satan and Lucifer's responses simultaneously.

"Levi sent Satan a text on my phone mimicking my way of typing to set up a date with him for today, knowing it would overlap with Lucifer's request. It was Mammon and Belphie's idea, though."

You looked up to see the two of them exchange a look; you knew that look to be a silent truce between them, a non-verbal handshake to ceasefire and unite under a common banner.

"Is that so?" Lucifer begun.

"Then I guess we know who's really at fault," Satan added, his smile already dripping malice.

You watched the two of them depart then and glanced down at your D.D.D once more. … You kind of just wanted to choose the date you went on, to be honest. Though hearing Mammon and Leviathan's shrieks from down the hall told you that maybe you'd get to still choose after the whole "stringing them up" thing was done with.

Ta-da! I felt that adding in a little bit of jealous Mammon and Leviathan with a sprinkling of mischievous Belphie would also work; we all know those three are pretty down bad for the MC, so it wouldn't surprise me if they utilized the rivalry between Satan and Lucifer to their own ends!

Sadly though, someone's gonna have to get all three of them unstrung and put back down from the rafters now. Whoops!

Don't worry, you definitely got to pick which boy to go on a date with after this all cooled off!

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me imagines #obey me male mc #obey me male reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan

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thedarknesssings · 7 months

Text

Prompt 23: Classified

Prompt 23: Suit - FFXIV Write 2023 Characters: Kyllian de Fosse, Davor de Sarconne; indirect reference to Lebeaux @blackrose-ffxiv and mention of Grym @gorgagne-viperidae

“Oh, come on, Davor” Kyllian exclaimed. He was hard-pressed to keep the exasperation from his voice. “I’ve been an excellent inquisitor for the Tribunal for near on a dozen years. I rarely miss a mark and you damn well know it.”

The Inquisitor in charge of his particular division Kyllian could almost call a friend. Davor de Sarconne was his elder by about fifteen years and had been his mentor in the early months. When the man took his current position, Kyllian was one of his staunchest supporters. Davor ran his hands through his hair, the short strands standing on end and making the grey streaking through the mahogany starker.

“Look, Kylli.” Davor stared at him across his desk. “I hate to do this to you. I really do. You’re right. You always get your man, but this time–”

“A desk job?” Kyllian planted his hands on his hips and let his head hang. “I’d rather resign.”

“And do what? Half of Ishgard will hold your parentage against you and the other half will balk at your former position as an inquisitor.” Exasperation crept into Davor’s voice. “Yes, sure, pushing papers is dull, but it’s good pay in your pocket, Kyllian. Maybe in time, you’ll be well enough for field work again. If I put you out there now, it’s too risky.”

A disgruntled noise rumbled in Kyllian’s throat. He turned to pace across the office. “Who is getting my case?”

“That’s classified and you know it.” Davor grunted at him. He settled back in his chair, watching Kyllian pace and wincing every time he limped. “I can tell you there’s no further leads. This Grym’s just vanished into the snow again after her cronies blew that barn sky high with you in it.”

“I can find her again, Davor.” Kyllian turned back toward his supervisor. “Just give me the chance. I’m the only Inquisitor best suited for tracking her down.”

“Even if that’s the case, Kyllian, the best I can do is leave you on as a consultant for the case.” Davor fell quiet for a moment, then reached across his desk to tug another file out from the bottom of a short stack of case files. “Tell you what. I have something a bit more domestic. Mostly here in the city. He was once one of us and the Tribunal wants him watched.”

That stopped Kyllian’s pacing. The limp in the man’s gait was starting to wear on Davor to watch. In his opinion, Kyllian should still be home on leave, resting. They were two of a kind on that front, never able to keep idle for long when there was work to be done. Kyllian picked the file up off the desk and flipped through it, reading the contents with care.

“You’re going to have to acquire a slightly new profession. You’ll be considered deep cover. Anyone comes asking here, and we’ll say you quit due to the injury.” Davor narrowed his eyes on Kyllian. “And I do mean anyone, Kylli.”

“That’s fine by me.” Kyllian waved away the concern, his attention still fixed on the file. “I remember this guy. I’ve worked with him.”

“Thought you might.” Davor smiled briefly at Kyllian. He dug a tomestone out of a desk drawer and sent it skittering over the desktop toward Kyllian. “Here. Use this to report anything you find to me. It’s secured.”

Kyllian leaned over to claim the tomestone, taking a moment to familiarize himself with it. “Got it.”

Davor studied him. Not for the first time, he admired the view Kyllian provided. The smile on Davor’s lips curved light, his gaze lingering. “Happier? Not going to quit on me for real now, right?”

“Yeah.” A smirk curved across Kyllian’s lips and he tucked the tomestone into a pocket. “Happier. I also want to be a consultant on my former case. I know civilians can be if they have important information to share.”

“Kyllian.” Davor growled out, hands planting on his desk. He rose from his chair, eyes narrowing. “You’re not holding out on me, are you?”

“That’s classified, Davor.” He turned on a heel and limped from the office, the new case file tucked under his arm.

#ffxiv write 2023 #prompt 23 #writers on tumblr #ffxiv writers #ishgard #inquisition #tribunal #Kyllian

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