#floating a little bit off the ground with the fire all around her but not burning her

[odessastone]

on the topic of my "Illari gets recruited by Talon" theory, today I got a kill streak on her and she says "I've done worse, and I'll DO worse."

Doesn't sound like a very heroic thing to say lol

#overwatch #illari #illari quispe ruiz #I'm so interested in where they could take her character #bc right now shes like. a seed kinda.. not much to her yet but a lot of potential #I just want to see Winston and co show up somewhere and everything's burnt to cinders #and they're like 'what is THAT' #and it's Illari in Talon armor that hides her face except for her glowing eyes visible through the mask #floating a little bit off the ground with the fire all around her but not burning her #real Oh Fuck moment #she is definitely not evil but I think she should get to destroy more things and go really apeshit after- #-spending most of her life doing things that she seems like she didnt even want to do #i think its healthy for a mistreated teenage girl to get to burn down a city or two.

[bluerosefox]

Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #KlarionxDanny #ngl kinda based Klarion crushing off how my parents meet #they were at a party due to their siblings and my ma mentioned she was walking around and heard my dad's laughter above everyone's #said she really liked his laugh and found him at the party #very loosely based on my ma getting her crush on my dad #anyways Klarion is crushing hard #he cant ask Ellie though. He may have just meet her but he can sense shes gonna be a gremlin about it #so he goes to the one person he knows is a in a relationship! in the modern age too! #only he kidnaps Tim and well... #chaos #meanwhile Danny gushes to his friends about a cute chaos lord he spotted at the meeting #he wants to talk to him but Ellie is being a troll and not telling him anything about her new friend

[shinyspooks]

literally and non-literally

so. i'm literally obsessed with @zillychu 's fire core au. so i HAD to write this.

note: i imagine this happens sometime between danny actually starting to talk to them and them finding out about the halfa thing- so like, really early bonding/flirting stage?? you'll get what i mean

Warnings: blood mention, Danny kills a ghost off screen. + said ghost's arm gets torn off. this fic is comedy though i promise

Word Count: 1k

Read on AO3

This had been a bad idea.

That was all that Tucker could think, as he and Sam stood under the cover of a nearby half-destroyed building, watching as Phantom beat another ghost to a pulp.

Neither of them had seen the other ghost before, and it seemed that they likely never would again, if the way Phantom was tearing into them was any indication.

Literally, tearing into them, it seemed, as Phantom fiercly bit down on the other’s arm and ripped it clean off, blood splattering down to the pavement, followed by the ghost’s body, slamming down with such force that it made the ground tremble. When the dust settled, the ectoplasmic body didn’t so much as twitch.

“Wow.” Sam said, interrupting the unsettling silence, “That was kinda hot.”

Phantom, arm still in his mouth, turned around with a look filled with so much abject horror that if this was any other situation Tucker would’ve laughed.

Letting the arm drop from his mouth to fall to rest on top of it’s original body, Phantom joined Sam and Tucker on the ground. Well. Sorta on the ground. He got closer to the ground. But he remained floating, as usual.

“Ah-” Sam interrupted him before he could speak, “You’ve got a little-”

She reached forwards, towards Phantom’s face, and he instantly floated several feet back, letting out a hiss. Sam froze, before letting her arm drop to her side.

“Right, no touching.” She said, “But, uh, you’ve got some blood- or, ecto, on your face.”

Phantom almost seemed to hesitate for a second, before using his fist to try and wipe the ecto-blood off his cheek. He didn’t do much other than smear it a little, but both Sam and Tucker decided to not mention it. Phantom floated a bit closer again with a small sigh.

“I hope,” He started, “That when you said hot, before, thatit’s in reference to the literal heat, cause otherwise…”

“Otherwise…?” Sam tilted her head to the side with a smirk. Tucker silently shook his head at her, but she ignored him.

“Because otherwise, you’re a lot crazier than I thought.” Phantom said, crossing his arms with a huff. If anything, Sam’s smirk grew wider at that.

“Hi, I’m Sam, and I’m a lot crazier than you thought I was.” She said, linking her arm around Tucker’s and dragging him in closer to her. “This is Tucker, he’s also a lot crazier than you thought he was. May I know your name?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Tucker muttered, and Sam lightly kicked his shin, making him sharply inhale. Phantom slow-blinked at them both. Truthfully, they didn’t really need him to tell them his name, they both had a pretty solid guess that he was, maybe, perhaps, the Phantom, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, when it came to somewhat eldritch or fae-like beings, there were whole things around names, so it was best to give the matter some form of caution.

(And even if it wasn’t a fae-name kind of situation, the fact Phantom had not willingly gave them a name to call him by at this point did imply that they should treat the matter with some delicacy).

“…Nice try.” He said, “It’s not something you need to know, though.”

“Hm, maybe we should try giving you a name then…” Sam trailed off, thinking. Tucker let out a defeated sigh, immediately realizing that she was about to throw their previous caution and delicacy around Phantom’s name away entirely. Phantom looked almost confused, and slightly angry, like she hadn’t gotten his point, but couldn’t even say a word before she was speaking again. “Ah, I know. We’ll call you Casper.”

Phantom slow-blinked again, now very obviously confused.

“You’re choosing, of all things, to name me after the old high-school?” He asked. Now it was Sam and Tucker’s turn to look at him in confusion.

“No?? I- Oh, wait.” The realization seemed to hit them both at once. “You wouldn’t have seen that movie, would you?”

“Movie?”

“Casper, the Friendly Ghost.” Tucker elaborated. Phantom seemed to bristle.

“Ghosts are not friendly.” He said. Sam and Tucker both shared a look that made him glower at the both of them. “Seriously. Ghost’s aren’t friendl- wait, hold on. If you’re naming me- you think I’m friendly?!”

The silence that followed seemed to be response enough for him.

“I’m not friendly. I- you both aren’t just crazy. You’re insane.” Phantom said. Sam seemed to consider something for a moment.

“Hmm… You know, you’re pretty cute too, Casper.” She said, and Phantom sputtered, suddenly dropping to stand on the ground.

“Cute?!”

“Ah-” Tucker suddenly felt the need to maybe do some damage control. Phantom was already a threat enough without a damaged pride. “Of course, you’re very, uh, scary and powerful-”

“In a hot way though.” Sam interjected, “In a non-literal hot way.”

“Sam!” Tucker had to admit that she was objectively correct, but- “You can’t just say things like that-”

“You know I’m right. He’s hot. Both literally and non-literally.” As she said so, she gestured at Phantom, who had taken to staring very pointedly at the ground. Was it just Tucker’s imagination, or was his face turning a little green-

Phantom’s fists suddenly clenched, and when he looked up at them again, it was with a glare in his eyes, the edges of his hair slowly growing more smokey than its usual state.

“Get out of my town.” He hissed, eyes flashing a brighter shade of green. Ah. It seemed they had reached Phantom’s idiocy limit for the day.

Not wasting any time, Tucker flipped Sam’s grip on his arm so that he was the one holding on to her, turned, and started to drag her away at a rather speedy pace.

“Aw c’mon, I was only messing around!!” Sam complained, but still allowed herself to be dragged. From some distance behind them, Phantom tsked.

“Keep playing around like that and you’ll get burned.” He muttered, quietly, but not quietly enough for them to not overhear.

“Was that a pun? Wait- Tucker, the ghost knows puns-” Sam said, planting her feet into the ground. It was enough to give Tucker pause as well, turning around-

Phantom had already vanished.

“He knows puns, Tucker.” Sam continued, “Tucker. We’ve got to bring the joke book next time.”

#Danny Phantom #Fire Core AU #my writing #zillychu if you see this i need you to know i havent written in like 5 months #and this is the fic that finally got me writing again #so thank you for this incredible au #Everlasting Trio

[delaber]

Firestarter (Loki x Reader)

Summary: After having been granted safe passage to the Avengers’ head quarters, Loki’s delighted to learn that he can pass the time by toying with the hate of the newest recruit.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers.

Words: 4.2K

Warnings: smut, mentions of battle injuries

Find part 2 here

They would all be fools to trust him. They know it. Loki knows it. Hell, even the specs of dust floating around know it!

The only one that seems eager to patch up the growing rift between the opposite sides of the room is the meathead of his brother who is blabbering away, trying hard to ignore the cold air coming from the other Avengers.

He's persistent, you'd have to give him that. They must really love Thor to grant Loki safe passage in their home like this.

- The stab of a thought hits Loki straight in the chest. Sticks to his ribs as he contemplates the sharp hate radiating off of the cotton-clad team opposite him. They don't look the least bit threatening in their oversized casual wear, but they've still granted his brother the upper hand so graciously, and for the first time in a while, he feels the balancing scales tip. It was easier when it was just the three idiots Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg who were fawning over his brother - Sif on occasion too, though Loki had had her in multiple ways Thor could never even wrap his pea-sized brain around.

The thought alone makes the tar on his ribs slowly drip away.

He must've drifted off, lost in thought of Sif with her bare ass in the air because the next thing he registers is Thor's meaty hand between his shoulder blades. "You all know my brother..." he chuckles awkwardly and pushes Loki forwards. Adds his name for clarification when nobody answers. Idiot.

The room's almost dead-silent. Stark scoffs theatrically loud and that Barton fellow turns a lovely shade of plum as he immediately races out of the room without uttering a single word - not that Loki can really blame him; he's killed for less.

Even the newbies on the team are staring daggers at him, though Loki doubts he's ever met any of them before; Captain Rogers' brooding siamese twin, the beefed up action figure beside him and that... woman - the pretty one - her eyes ablaze with a certain kind of hatred that he can physically feel down his spine as she scowls in his direction.

Loki cocks an eyebrow, amused that his reputation precedes him so much that her hate is tangible, and she huffs and pushes through the crowd while the one with the metal arm - the siamese twin - grabs her shoulder to prevent her from stepping too close. It only angers her even more and she shakes off the vibranium hand but stands her ground with her head lifted in cool arrogance, her eyes never wavering from Loki's.

Oh, she really hates him!

The look on her face reminds him of the tales he's heard of Muspelheim. Of Surtur and flames shining brighter than the sun; all of Asgard burning while the glass of the shattered rainbow bridge glistens in the flames and sticks to his skin, covers his hair. With her, there's fire in the air. He feels it immediately and it draws him in.

***

He spends his days in the shadows, observes the dynamics of the Avengers, gathers information in case he has to do something... drastic. He's not exactly planning on betraying the trust his brother's placed in him, but it's never unwise to have a plan to overthrow the Avengers - just in case. So he learns what he can from afar; their likes, their dislikes, their routines. But mostly, Loki just observes her.

She really loathes him which only makes it all the more fun. She storms off whenever he comes close. Flares her nostrils, squares her jaw, stamps away like a petulant child - and he must admit that he does love it! He enjoys having her wrapped around his little finger, that his mere presence can pull such a sincere reaction out of her. It makes the seidr in his veins feel electric; like pure voltage in the palm of his hand as it begs him to show off - show her - what he can do with it. He wonders if this is what Thor feels like when his eyes turn bone-white and arctic blue with lightening.

"I wish you would stop with that."

Loki glances towards his brother, tries to look as bored as possible as if he really doesn't know what he's talking about. "Stop with what?"

Thor gives out a long sigh and Loki is reminded of the first time Thor was disappointed with him; even though it's almost a thousand years ago, he can still smell the sweetness of the stolen tarts he'd hidden underneath his pillowcase and the empty hole in his chest where he knew he should be feeling shame but didn't.

"You know what I mean... It's not nice."

"In case you haven't noticed; I don't care about being nice."

"You're taunting her."

"She's an easy target," Loki hums with remnants of a chuckle, places his hands on the back of his head as he looks over at her. Even as she does something as mundane as drinking her morning coffee, she keeps a wary eye on him. It's entertaining. "You really can't blame me."

"It's not as if she's dangling bait, brother. You hurt her."

"I hurt her?!" Loki snaps, offended, "- when?"

"You really haven't realised?"

"Realised what?"

Another sigh. "Can't you tell she's from New York?"

Loki stops replying after that. Settles on picking an imaginary crumb from off his chest; thin crusted and rhubarb filling. He avoids Thor's gaze. He doesn't feel empty now and they both know it.

***

He'd come running through the compound with the rest of them as soon as the strangled war cry had met his ears.

Half-hiding behind one of the huge stone columns, he takes her in; she's covered in blood from head to toe, panting harshly as she stands in the middle of the hall, daggers still clutched tightly in both hands as her friends surround her. She looks fiery, evil, war ready - like the Valkyries from back home with their spears and their feminine hands skilfully wringing death out of anyone who crosses Asgard.

There had been a time where Loki had been afraid of them, and then, as he grew a little older, completely mesmerised by their raw beauty and the smell of battle as they rode towards the Royal Palace to report back to Odin and his ravens. He remembers standing in the hallowed halls of Valaskjalf with Huginn and Muninn circling above him as the Valkyries take off their helmets and look towards his brother. What he wouldn't have given to have one of them stab him, let alone notice him. Five hundred years later and it still hurts...

Steve Rogers is standing right by her side, not covered in as much blood as she is but still looking relieved to be back home. He sends a nod in Stark's direction and throws an electronic device across the room with a defeated sigh. It doesn't take a genius to see that even though the mission went well, they'd been ambushed.

Rogers takes a step closer to her, puts his arm around her shoulders as to hug her, and for the first time since they appeared in the entrance hall, she howls in pain, collapses on the floor and wrings her face in the most horrible way.

Loki notices the hole in her suit first. Sees how the red comes in pulses and flows down over her shoulder and chest. She's been stabbed, and by the looks of the dark red tissue in the gap, it's deep.

Steve Rogers yelps in shock, throws himself down on the ground beside her and instantly starts pressurising the wound with his bruised hands while his two companions are by her side immediately, ready to scoop her up in their arms and carry her to safety.

Loki takes in the scene unfolding before him; the three frantic men, the spurting blood, her panicked face as she cries. Swears he can hear Hel whisper her name.

"Leave her," he suddenly hears his own voice booming through the echoing hall and it drowns out the whisper.

They all stop dead in their tracks. Look around for him.

He's not sure exactly where all of this is coming from; he really couldn't care less if she died, but he finds himself stepping around the column, and he comes out with his arms raised as if surrendering. "She's gonna bleed out before you reach a doctor."

Action figure-man is on his feet almost immediately: "And what do you suggest?," he hisses angrily, "that we leave her be? Let her die here on the floor without even trying?"

Loki raises his arms a little higher and takes another careful step towards them. "I can help."

"You can help? And why should we trust you?"

"First of all, you shouldn't," he states as he simply cannot help himself. "- But it's your only chance of saving your friend."

"You're not serious!" Tin-man hisses and looks towards Loki while helping Steve Rogers putting pressure on the gaping wound, "as if we're supposed to believe you suddenly care."

Loki wants to bite back but a painful sound from her makes him hold his tongue.

"- We're not gambling with her life!"

"Are you sure?" Loki retorts and it finally makes Captain Rogers look up. "- Because it looks to me as if you are."

Loki cannot see Thor who's standing behind him, but he imagines the slow nod of approval he gives the Steve Rogers trio, because suddenly the Captain gives out a heavy sigh, his eyes downcast. "Alright then," he says in defeat and waves Loki closer while clutching her tight.

"Steve!" Tin-man appeals but his best friend has made up his mind.

All eyes turn to Loki.

He's surprised to learn that he doesn't enjoy it as much as he'd imagined he would. He supposes it's because the main difference between him and his brother has once again been underlined so cruelly.

"If you try anything," action figure man warns and Loki bites back: "What? You'll kill me? As if I haven't heard that before. Now get out of my way, mortal."

He steps forwards, squats down beside her and summons the green sparks in the palm of his hand, looks her in the eye for the first time since the day they'd been introduced. There's fire behind her colourful irises; mistrust, chaos and fear. She leans towards him and with all her strength grabs his wrist. "What - are - you - doing?" she pants and wrings him tightly.

"Saving you," he mumbles and turns his palm around, directs the sparks at her gashing wound.

She gives out a small painful hiss as the wound closes up immediately but her eyes never leave his face. They transgress from pain to panic to relief. He's there with her for the whole ride and it does absolutely nothing to drown the embers inside of him.

"Oh my god," Captain Rogers mumbles and runs his fingers over the newly-formed scar on her front as he stares in disbelief.

Her doubting eyes are still carefully watching Loki, her small fingers still wrapped tightly around his wrist. Her mouth goes slack and she finally lets go of him, looks towards the closed up wound, then back at him. "Thank you," she whispers apprehensively.

It makes his seidr glow fluorescently green in his veins and he gets the sudden urge to fall to his knees and lick her clean.

Had Huginn and Muninn only still been alive, he would've made them watch this up close so they could report it back in detail to all of Asgard.

***

The Avengers are not as cold after that. Still wary of him - as they should be - but the hatred and constant fear is gone. And when she comes back from her bed rest, it tickles him that the first thing she does is to seek him out.

"Thank you," she says slowly, almost controlled, and extends her hand as a peace offering, "- for saving my life."

"You already said that."

"Well, I meant it."

He looks up at her. Her mouth is formed to a pout, her body poised in vigilance, her eyes carefully watching his every movement while her hand extends into dangerous grounds. She's still not sure what his motives are and it gives him the opportunity to toy with her a bit. "...I'm honoured?"

A short-lived flame of annoyance flashes across her features as she retracts her hand back to safety with a huff.

"Did I say something wrong?" he quips in the hopes that he can keep her attention.

"You're trying to rile me up."

"How dare you!" He says in mock offence. "I would never!"

She crosses her arms underneath her chest, "I'm trying to offer you an olive branch and all you do is ridicule me. Are you really that desperate for attention?"

It amuses him. He loves when she shows him bits of the real her. "Are you calling me desperate for attention because I don't care I saved your life?"

“Then why did you do it?”

“It was merely strategic,” he shrugs and hopes she doesn’t detect the lie that tastes bitter on his tongue. Why did he save her? The question’s been nagging him for days now. “- it’s never unwise to have an Avenger owe you their life.”

“Wow,” she blinks and shakes her head in disbelief. "I don't know why we all listened to Thor - he said you'd changed but you're clearly still a conniving snake.”

"A snake?” he smiles, relieved that his lie has her convinced, "is that supposed to hurt me? Trust me, darling, I've been called worse."

"Just a gentle reminder that you'll never be anything but a villain."

"I suppose every villain is a hero in their own mind."

She takes the bait and narrows her eyes. "You absolutely destroyed my hometown. All the places I loved. And you have the nerve to call yourself a hero?!"

"Would you prefer a god?"

She flares her nostrils in frustration, "is everything a joke to you?"

"...Mainly?" he smirks "in case you haven't noticed, I'm the God of Mischief - it's in the job description."

She takes a few angry breaths. "Life is always a performance for you, isn't it? Whether it's an endless need for attention, a humorous quip, or the unfolding of another of your great plans, it's always just for show!"

He's excited to feel that the full-blown anger's back and she's seeing red. And to think he was almost disappointed in her?!

She grinds her teeth. "Just so we're clear, I'm not doing this to imply we're even or to make you feel just the slightest bit better about yourself for what you did. Trust me, I'd still rather see you rotting away in a prison cell. You-"

"I must admit," he drawls, gives himself some time to enjoy her undivided, flaming attention as he so impolitely interrupts her, "I like you much more when you're honest with me. When you admit you want to watch me burn! This front of niceties you just put up? This so-called olive branch while you so uncharacteristically give up control? It doesn't suit you."

She wrings her arms in frustration, narrows her eyes into slits. "You're goddamn insufferable!"

***

She's not more intoxicated than the rest of the Avengers, but she is drunk. Agent Romanoff keeps handing her clear liquor in small glasses that they down in a single second, followed by strings of laughs when the alcohol burns in their throats.

He remembers being drunk like that; fresh, sweet-smelling mead from oak barrels in the hundreds, wine in golden carafes on every table. He used to love the parties him and Thor threw; the chaos, the abundance! A heavy flow of alcohol was always a neat little excuse for his erratic behaviour, but the best part was always when the mead was extra good and strong and he could get Thor to follow his lead. Oh, how they used to cause rampage! They would've been unstoppable, had they only been on the same side.

Loki turns around the brown glass bottle in his hand so he can read the blue label; five percent...

He misses the lightheadedness, the parties, him and Thor being on the same side, Asgard. He's never longed for a taste of home this much before. He looks back at her.

"You're being unusually quiet this evening," Thor says from layers away, "should I be worried?"

"Hmm?" Loki snaps out of it, turns his head towards his brother who's sitting with an annoyingly smug expression plastered on his face. "No, I'm just contemplating this piss they call beer. How can they drink it?" He gives the bottle a sniff and winces. "I never thought I'd hear myself say it but I miss Asgard."

"Is that sentiment I sense in you, brother?"

"Absolutely not," he scoffs and looks back at her and Romanoff as they give out a loud laugh. "I'm glad it burned."

Her eyes scan the room, land on Loki's for a split second too long to pretend they didn't register him. For some reason, it satisfies him. She's aware of his presence.

"You like her," he hears Thor's chuckle from beside him.

"Bite your tongue!"

"I notice you stare at her a lot," he chuckles again.

Loki wants to say something. Wants to make Thor pay for what he's implying, but he doesn't really have a great comeback to that.

***

It's later that same evening when she finally approaches him. Toned legs walking towards him, wide hips swaying up the small set of stairs, shoulders pushed arrogantly back as she determinedly stares him down. She only has eyes for him. Finally.

He can't help but meet her halfway; he leans forwards, balances his elbows on his knees, impatiently waits for her to spit on him.

"Loki," she hums with fire in her eyes when the syllables hit her tongue.

"Yes, little dove?" he quips, excited to see her riled up and finally talking to him again.

"I want to talk to you," she scans the room for unwanted attention before her sharp eyes find his again and he feels the bone-white and arctic blue. "This little game you're playing?" She says harshly, "It ends now."

He almost gives in. Almost. "What game?"

"Don't play stupid," she huffs. "I can't do anything without you keeping an eye on me. Tell me what it is you want."

He cannot help the smirk that appears on his lips and he leans a little closer, spreads his knees apart.

"Answer me," she demands, her chest heaving.

"You haven't asked a question," he says calmly as if he truly didn't notice the way her eyes lingered on his crotch.

"You want me to be sincere," she states and takes another step towards him. "-I want the same thing from you."

She's so close he can smell her; sweet, salty, tang on the back of his tongue. She's ripe like a fucking goddess!

He absentmindedly rubs his thighs. "Darling, I assure you; this is me being sincere."

Her chest is heaving in heavy pants. She's annoyed. "Then tell me exactly what you want from me."

She holds his gaze in an insane power play while he ponders for a second. Should he tell her his intentions? String her along for a little while longer and make her second-guess everything? He is the God of Mischief, he supposes, but she looks so sweet, so damn fuckable as she angrily stares down at him. So he gives in and tells her what he wants. After all, why shouldn't he? What's he got to lose?

***

A decent man would've probably kept her at an arms length, tucked her into bed and told her she was way too drunk to make decisions like this, but Loki's not a decent man. He'll take what he can get and leave the decency to team Cap.

With a flick of his wrist, they're back in his bedroom. She's naked in his lap, pushing her lovely tits up against him as she pulls him closer. "You like me," she whispers and licks the shell of his ear. Moves her pelvis against his leather clothing, "you like watching me."

"Shut up," he groans and pulls her flush against his chest, pushes his tongue past her teeth as he grinds her bottom against his crotch.

Her hand comes down between them, slides down over the trail of hair underneath his navel before her fingers find their way to the buttons of his leather pants, unleashes him without a single touch. She eyes him hungrily but keeps her hands to herself, nonverbally insists she has the power to control him. The way she looks at him: he's so hard, it's verging on torture.

"Tell me you like me," she pulls harshly down on his hair, bites him; draws blood from his lower lip.

"Ah!" he hisses though he likes it! "Careful!"

She yanks his hair again with an evil smile and Loki swears, he almost comes.

"You're a devil, aren't you?" he hears himself say as he smacks her ass and bites her nipple, takes advantage of her little jump to push two fingers inside her pulsing heat. She's gushing already, soaks him all the way down to his knuckles as she rides his hand, pinches her own nipples.

"Say my name," he pulls on her earlobe with his teeth. "Spit on me!"

She finds his eye, gives him the same evil smile as before and whispers a short "no," as she arches her back and pushes her nipple back into his mouth. Cheeky little thing.

He curls his fingers and strokes her g-spot, enjoys the sounds she's making for him. Only for him, he reminds himself and feels his chest expanding with something unfamiliar that makes him want to melt into her. He pushes it away; concentrates on the tangible pleasure and not how it makes his head dizzy.

As if on cue, her hands finally find his aching cock and she starts stroking him slowly. He's harder than ever and leaking already.

He looks down between them; small feminine hands caressing him so sweetly is a fantastic contrast to all the biting and pulling. He feels his chest expanding again. "Fuck!" he hisses and pushes himself into her hand to feel something else. Focus on the pleasure, he tells himself and stutters his hips upwards again and again.

Her fingers are running through his hair and she's sucking on his tongue while her hand sets the pace, runs over his stained head. "You want this?" She whispers, bites the thin skin below his jaw.

Fuck yes he wants this! Wants her! He groans.

"You want to save my life?," she bites him again, pulls on his hair. "You want me to spit on you? Are you so desperate to fuck an avenger?"

He hisses at that, grabs her jaw tightly. "I hate the Avengers!"

"Are you sure?" she smiles devilishly and points at the scar on her shoulder. "Are you sure you really hate us?”

He groans in defeat and releases her pretty face with a hiss and positions himself at her entrance, finally pushes himself inside with the same pace as she lowers herself down towards his hips. “Ah! Fuck!”

It's an immediate collision of universes, Loki is seeing stars and needs a second to come down to earth, to savour the feeling, but he hardly has time to get used to the warm wetness squeezing him tight before she starts moving in long, warm pulses.

He's captivated, enchanted! He bites her neck, holds her down, desperate to keep her bouncing in a speed that makes him flex his toes without making him explode. He wants this to last. He wants this memory of her hatefucking him into oblivion. This beautiful, vengeful woman who's mounting him like a stallion and riding him like a valkyrie riding to battle. "Goddess!" he hisses against her neck and she finally finds his mouth and without the use of teeth, presses silky lips against his, makes everything inside of him glow green with desire. It’s desire, he tells himself though it feels like something else.

"Loki," she finally moans in his ear and he's never heard anything sweeter.

He pulls her closer, fucks into her and smells her skin. Kisses the scar below her shoulder.

He saved her.

His seidr runs crazy, tingles throughout every limb, makes him see everything clear: he wants her to want him and only him!

That’s why he saved her.

His last thought before he completely lets go is of the disaster he knows this will bring upon him; his own, personal Ragnarok visible on the horizon. She has the power to make him crumble, to make him burn brighter than the sun and turn to ash. He feels it already and there's no stopping it.

He thinks of Valaskjalf. Of molten gold and flames licking his father’s throne.

She speeds up, moans his name, fills his chest with fire.

Valhalla, I'm coming home.

Find part 2 here

#loki x reader fanfiction #loki x reader #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki pining #loki x you #loki x y/n #mcu loki #loki angst

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

New Face (11th Doctor x Timelord!Reader)

watch me make a series out of a oneshot that was very much not meant to be a series— anyway, one david tennant hyperfixation led to another and now I'm rewatching Matt Smith's run as The Doctor and you know what that means!

Also requests are open!

Wordcount: 1.4k

Series masterpost

Summery: a new face a new doctor and the start of a new adventure with a lovely little girl who just wants a ride in a time machine.

Things change quickly with the Doctor. You knew that well.

One moment you're comforting the face that rescued you the next you're putting out fires around the Tardis as it wildly flies over the skies of London.

"A little help over here!" The Doctor cried, he's barely holding onto the edge of the Tardis, his body hanging out through the front doors. His new voice is higher than the one you knew.

"In a minute love!" You yell back, there was no other option than yelling over the explosions of the console and the many alarms going off.

Another explosion rocked the Tardis and the Doctor manages to pull himself up as you adjust the angle at which the Tardis is basically crashing towards the ground. There's no other option but to crash so you tried to crash in the least horrific way you could.

The thing is, you crash sideways, tipping you and the Doctor deep into the Tardis.

"Oh for fucksake—" You said as you landed against one of the couches in the library. "Oi! Language!" The doctor chided. He had the luck of landing with a big splash in the swimming pool that for some reason was in the library.

"Since when do you care about about language?" You asked him, helping him out of the pool.

"Since now evidently" He said and started looking around for ways to get out.

You handed him a grappling line.

"Care to do the honors?" You asked and he smiled, launching it as far as he could and when he felt it was stable he began to climb up.

When he finally made it to the Tardis doors you heard him talking to someone. You hadn't the faintest clue as to who.

"Love, make some room!" You called from below him and he climbed onto the Tardis, looking down.

"Woah, look at that" He said in awe as he looked at the Tardis. It was quite a view though you would have appreciated a hand as you climbed up to join him.

That's when you saw the little girl standing beside the Tardis in her nightie and bright bright red boots that matched her bright red hair. Well not really red. Human red, which was more of a copper.

"Hello there" You said, wiping the sweat from your brow.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Just had a fall, all the way down there right to the library. Hell of a climb back up" The Doctor told her.

"You're soaking wet" The little girl said.

"He landed in the swimming pool" You added.

She turned to look at the Doctor, "You said you were in the library".

"So was the swimming pool" He answered.

She looked a bit confused but quickly kept the questions coming.

"Are you a policeman?" She asked.

"Why? Did you call a policeman?" The Doctor asked, meanwhile you climbed down from the Tardis and onto the ground, inspecting the crash site.

"Did you come about the crack in my wall?" The little girl asked.

"What crack—" The Doctor started but he fell, clutching his chest as he groaned in pain.

You weren't worried. He was still coming off of his regeneration meaning he was practically invincible.

"Are you okay mister?" The little girl asked.

"I'm fine, it's okay, this is all perfectly normal" He said, some fleck of regeneration energy floating out of his mouth.

You turned back to the Doctor and the little girl, content with you assessments of the crash site.

"I'm sorry, we seem to have crashed into your shed" You said to the little girl and she looked between you and the Doctor.

"Who are you?" She asked and you smiled, leaning down to be at her eye level.

"My name is Y/N and he" You said, pointing at your lover who was currently watching the regeneration energy still filling his hands "-is The Doctor."

The Doctor got his bearings, or at least tried to, coming up beside you. "Does it scare you?" He asked.

"Does what scare me?" She asked.

"The crack in your wall, does it scare you?" He repeated.

"Yes" She answered, almost shyly.

This excited him. "Well then, no time to lose. Like he said I'm The Doctor, do everything I tell you, don't ask stupid questions and don't wander off" He said confidently and started walking.

"Love" You said and he turned his head back to face you, causing him to walk straight into the tree you wanted to warn him about.

The little girl walked over to him where he was just lying on the ground.

"You alright?" She asked.

"Early days" He said, "Steering's a bit off plus he distacted me" he said, pointing at you.

With a roll of your eyes you went over to help him up.

"You really should sit down and eat something love, you're running on fumes" You told him and shrugged.

"I'll be fine" He said and you sighed, turning to the little girl.

"Can you do me a favor and get him something to eat? Maybe then the two of you can have a look at that scary crack in your wall" You suggested and she nodded, you gave her The Doctor's hand and told her to be careful with him cause he's very iratible right now and he complained as the little girl walked with him into the house and you stayed outside with the Tardis.

You had a feeling this would be a regular thing with this new Doctor. You cleaning up after him.

You could already see so many differences between his old self and this new one.

Besides the obvious physical difference this new body was much more wild. He was already all over the place much more than your old Doctor. But he was also charming. You were sure you'd love him just as much once he figured himself out a bit more, after all he did the same for you.

All that time ago when you promised you would never leave him, when you told you loved him, when you stayed by his side even as the power of a sun was burning through his body. You stayed with him and regenerated and he helped you. He carefully picked you up and placed you back in the medbay of the ship you were on and when you woke up he helped you get accustomed to your new body and he kept loving you just like he did before. So you would do the same.

You checked the grappling line and when you were sure it would hold you went back into the Tardis.

nothing in the console room was on fire anymore which was good. You went one by one checking the systems and resetting what needed it. That is until the ringing started.

you hadn't actually gotten to checking the engines yet. The ringing was coming from the engines.

"No, no, no, no, no— Come on!" You cried as you tried to settle them.

"Just calm down a bit will you?" You tried to ask the Tardis but she wasn't having it.

"Y/N! What's going on in there?" The Doctor hollered as he ran out of the house.

"She's throwing a tantrum!" You yelled through the open Tardis doors.

"It's just a box, how can a box be throwing a tantrum?" The little girl said. You still didn't know her name.

"Not a box, it's a time machine" The Doctor said.

"What, a real one?" she asked, you popped your head out of the Tardis just enough to look at them.

"Doctor come on!" You said, popping back into the console room.

"Five minute hop into the future should do it" The Doctor said, climbing onto the Tardis.

"Can I come?" The girl asked.

"Not safe in here, five minutes, give me five minutes, I'll be right back" He said.

"People always say that" She said and the Doctor stopped, he climbed back down to the ground and kneeled in front of the little girl.

"Am I people?" He asked, "Do I even look like people? Trust me, I'm the Doctor" He said.

He climbed back onto the Tardis, gave the girl one last look and jumped in, "Geronimo!"

With him inside the ringing finally stopped.

"There you go, you just don't like it when Y/N drives" The Doctor cooed at the console.

You rolled your eyes.

"Doctor" You asked, "What did you tell that little girl?"

"I told her we'd be back in five minutes" He said, running around the console, hitting buttons and turning switches.

"Did you get her name?" You asked and he smiled.

"Yes! Amelia Pond! Brilliant name isn't it? Amelia Pond"

#male reader #doctor who x male reader #11th doctor x male reader #11th doctor #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #timelord reader #amy pond #young amy pond #the tardis is cranky #reader insert

[dmwrites]

Martyn was yelling. Martyn was yelling and coming at Impulse with a desperation and fury that rooted him to the spot. It didn’t make sense, Martyn was… cheating. Scott was dead, gone in a flash of fire that Impulse couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And he was facing down a man who was all greens and yellows and reds and-

There was a slice through the air, a pain so brief it might have been imagined, and then-

“I’m so proud of you, homie buddy!”

“For goodness sake, Skizz, put on a shirt!”

Impulse tried to extract himself from Skizz’s chest, but his friend only pulled him closer.

“Let him breathe a little, Skizz, he just died, after all.” Tango’s voice floated up somewhere to the left of him, and he felt a pat on the back. “Nice work, man, second place ain’t too bad.”

Skizz let Impulse go, finally, and Impulse was instantly being congratulated by his other friends, Scott giving him a distracted smile, Pearl sticking out her tongue before hugging him tight.

“You’re a good guy, Impulse. Thanks for sticking by me.” Etho came over and clapped Impulse on the shoulder, a small smile in his voice and a twinkle in his eye. “You fought well.”

“Thanks, man.” Impulse beamed at him. “You did too. Not washed up at all.” He chuckled, and Etho grumbled good-naturedly before wandering back over to The Clockers.

Skizz was standing next to him still, almost vibrating with energy.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Impulse told Skizz. “You should be congratulating Martyn when he dies. Or Scott, for that matter- there was no way I would have won even if we’d all played fair.”

“Come, walk and talk with me, buddy.” Skizz said, floating in the direction of the TIES tower.

They passed by the small group around Grian, who were watching Martyn below, still alive and on the ground. He caught a bit of conversation as they passed.

“We should probably slash-kill, G. Game’s over.”

“No, let’s leave him for a moment.” Grian mumbled, watching Martyn with a troubled look on his face.

The tower was empty, and Skizz and Impulse perched on the edge of Skynet, watching the other dead players float around.

“Dude, I said it once, but I’ll say it again- I am so proud of you. You’re like a warrior, man!” Skizz crowed.

“But I didn’t win!” Impulse exclaimed, although he couldn’t help but smile at Skizz’s enthusiasm.

“What- are you kidding me, dude! I told you- all of you before I died- team TIES gets top three, and you got to second place!”

“Well, second is a poor replacement for first…” Impulse grumbled.

“You know what, dude?” Skizz said, snapping his fingers, “I never did get to your affirmation, did I?”

“No, but I’m not, like, offended.” Impulse replied.

Skizz cleared his throat. “Impulsesv, my bestest friend-”

“You don’t have to do this, I’ll be okay without my affirmation.” Impulse interrupted.

“Shut your face and let me say nice things!” Skizz waved his hand dramatically at Impulse to make him shut up. “Impulse, my friend. You know, when I was doing these affirmations, I had to study people, even the ones I knew before. But you… it was easy to come up with the words. Perseverance. Focus. God, man, look at what you did. You wanted to win, and the way you hunted, killed… it was incredible. You never stopped, and I could tell how badly you wanted to win. You put your mind to it and you just go, man. If death herself hasn’t stopped you, I’m sure you would have walked right through Martyn’s axe to get the win.”

Impulse laughed. “I think you’ve been hanging out in the afterlife for too long, man, you are making less sense with every sentence.”

“I’m just proud of you, man.” Skizz smiled.

“Careful, Skizz,” Impulse teased, “people are gonna start thinking you’re some kind of angel or something, with how nice you’re being.”

“Ha! Whatever, dude.”

Skizz and Impulse started trying to elbow each other off of Skynet, laughing and waiting for Martyn’s life to end. The sun was setting, and there was that bittersweet taste of second place that settled heavy on Impulse’s tongue. Not good, not bad, but at the end of the day, there were always people who loved him, so it didn’t really matter.

#just a small thing I was working on #basically me talking thru Skizz bc I’m super proud of impulse #limited life spoilers #limited life #impulsesv #skizzleman #long post

[twola]

Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

taglist: @pinkiemme, @redwritr, @mykneeshurt, @bimbo-dollz

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

-

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

-

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

-

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

-

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

-

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead fandom #rdr2 #twolafic #tumblr prompt #red dead smut #arthur morgan x reader

[star-girl69]

Oh my Goshh!!! I just really LOVE your writings!! And I'd like to send a request too!!

So, Neytiri and Jake fell in love with a fem!human reader. And they wanted to court her. But, one day...the reader tell them she's going back to Earth again, and she's just recently got engaged and about to get married. The R said she's probably not gonna go back to Pandora. And I'd like to know how would they process it all, and how they would deal with it.

Oh please, please, please... I need a bit of angst 🥹🥹

Three White Butterflies

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

a/n: tysm for the request anon!! i wrote this in like a day so idk how good it is but i hope you all enjoy!!

title from “grandfather please stand on the shoulders of my father while he’s deep sea fishing” by lana del rey!!

warnings: angst. tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Whenever Jake and Neytiri thought of you, they thought of butterflies.

Neytiri had been obsessed with them ever since you had showed her a picture in a book of yours, a small blue one resting daintily on a bright green leaf. It was from years and years ago, from before the humans killed their world, their mother.

Now, beautiful things like that only live on in memories and pictures.

Neytiri thought they were so similar to atokirina, tiny little things that float on the wind. Jake remembered seeing one of the last ones as a child, a dying remnant of a soon-forgotten world. A colorful little cage full of flowers and leaves to rest on, he thought, while tiny children stuck their faces up against the glass.

You were like an atokirina, a butterfly, the two of them thought. You went where the wind takes you and you drew everyone’s attention as you flew past. Sometimes, Neytiri felt like you couldn’t be compared to anything. You were a category of your own, something they’ve never seen before.

They liked that newness. They liked everything about you. The sound of your footsteps, your touch, your voice, your eyes.

So, when Neytiri looks up from the small dinner fire and her ears twitch, Jake’s soon following, they hear your footsteps. You’ve adapted so well to the forest, to their lessons, you can silently creep through anywhere. But, they know you.

“Jake! Neytiri!” you call out, and Neytiri straightens her top and Jake tries to hide the stupid smile on his face.

“Y/N,” Neytiri sighs, like something had been lifted off of her shoulders. Now, only atokirina and butterflies rest on her shoulders, they carry no weight, only soft love.

—-

Jake nods up at you with a low smile, and you nervously wave, shifting around a basket full of fruit resting on the ground. Neytiri rises to grab your hand, smiling so brightly it’s like she’s the sun or something, leading you to sit next to her.

“What are you doing here today?” Jake asks, picking with the roasted sturmbeest in his hands. “Thought you were coming tomorrow.”

You smile, fiddling with the ring on your finger. It’s only thin metal and a small glass bead, but it’s enough for you, and it’s a piece of Pandora.

Jake and Neytiri have been your dearest friends ever since you came here, ever since Norm introduced you and you were hopeless with all things involving the forest.

Maybe if things were different, you could have been something more, maybe if you hadn’t met the person who put this ring on your finger. You steal a glance downwards, the glass briefly catching the setting sun.

“I won’t be here tomorrow,” you say awkwardly into the waiting silence. You don’t owe them anything, not really, but you still don’t want to disappoint them.

“Oh,” Neytiri muses, reaching forward for a fruit she knows you like. “You are visiting the sea, then? The plains?”

“No, I-” you take a deep breath and release your ring from your grip, just so it can shine in the light. Neytiri is too busy peeling the fruit to notice, but Jake, who’s across from you, who knows human customs, sees it.

You can see the recognition flash across his face, the sadness, the anger, bue fore he pushes it all down and looks up at you expectantly. Like he’s waiting for you to do something you can’t, like he’s waiting for you to deny his suspicions.

“I’m getting married,” you say. Your smile comes out oddly, almost forced, but relief blows through you like a tsunami. “There’s a ship that leaves for Earth tomorrow, and I know that it seems fast, but there’s just a million things I want to do- that I can’t do here.”

Neytiri stills next to you, and Jake’s shoulders deflate, and you hope it’s not what you think it is, because you cannot handle knowing you’re breaking their hearts.

“I- I’m very happy,” you say. Staring into Jake’s eyes, you cannot help but feel like there’s blood on your hands, like you’ve destroyed a life that you didn’t even know was there.

But, there is a life right in front of you, where there’s no atokirina or butterflies. There is only facts, a steady future. You’ll go back to Earth and you’ll live while it dies around you, and then you’ll die too.

This is how it will be, how it was always going to be. You’re a human, and humans are meant to live as fast as they destroy.

Still, you feel like there is blood on your hands and the remnants of a life not lived all around you.

Neytiri is the first to speak, to break the silence. It feels like she’s trying to punch through the ice, but she doesn’t really care about what’s on the other side.

“Oh,” is all she says for a moment, and you have to stare at the stones surrounding the fire. “I see.”

She places the half peeled fruit back with the others, like it was never even meant for you, but the three of you know it was.

“I came to say goodbye,” you whisper. Still, no one speaks, and when you look up, neither Jake or Neytiri can meet your eyes. “I just- I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Neytiri stands up suddenly, heading towards the direction of their tent. You can picture it now, the small indoor fire for when it’s cold, the hammock for the two, everything else that makes it theirs.

Besides, their home isn’t even fit for a human, if there was even some sort of path laid out there. But there’s not, and you’re going back to Earth, so there never will be.

She shoots a quick look over her shoulder.

“You’ve said your goodbyes. Goodbye, Y/N.”

You flinch at the small twig that snaps under her feet as she walks into the tent, the sound of the fabric whipping shut behind her.

You stare at the stones surrounding the fire. It feels like Pandora is the fire, the exciting life, and the stones are what you’re headed to.

“She’s just angry,” Jake says after a moment. You can’t look up at him, because you’re sure that he still has that same look on his face. Like you’re taking a part of his life away from him, an option, and you can’t handle that right now.

Because if you look at him and you see that look, you might change your mind, and you can’t. There is a life waiting for you, that will be happy and stable. And even if you’re not happy at first, you’ll learn to be happy.

“She does hope your happy, Y/N. I do too, she just- she just can’t say it right now.”

When you look up, you look at the bright green forest behind him, at the atokirina that floats past in the distance- almost too far to see. But you see it.

You nod and swallow, something wet falling down your cheek that you manage to hide. Or maybe he does he it, and he just doesn’t care anymore.

“I know. I- uh, I know. Goodbye, Jake,” you say.

And you seal off a part of your life forever.

—-

When Jake and Neytiri think of you, they thought about a life that they could live, about butterflies and atokirina and happiness.

Now, there is only broken hearts and three white butterflies, one going off in different directions.

A part of their life is sealed off forever.

—-

taglist:

@monsterwasstolen @fanboyluvr @artologia-blog1 @tulipatheticee @elvyshiarieko @fluffisalliwant @fluffi19 @jeizllz @myheartfollower @fy-fy-world @minkyungseokie @ivy-plays @blueberryfailureclinic @cryingwhilereading @thatratprincessforever @dumb-fawkin-bitch @sillyblues @buttercup-beeee @smollangrycat @n7cje @eternallyvenus @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @w3ird11 @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @babyminghao

#jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #jake sully x neytiri #avatar 2009 #avatar x reader #avatar way of water x reader #jake x neytiri x reader #atwow x reader

[xxxdegenerate]

Hiya! I saw you're in need of requests!

Ok one piece. Luffy. He is always for weird New people who Peaks his interest

Sooooo. Magician! A real life magician! He would freak out 🤣

The Crew wary, thinking she would hex them or use them to practice curses or other morbid stuff but she is just so sweet! She helps the Crew with her magic, like Chopper or sanji introduce him magic plants he can use for cooking etc. Luffy is more than happy to have her and when Marines come, ready to attack, she just Flicks her hand and the ship gets destroyed in one go, humming before returning to her previous task 🤣🤣

Pls! You would make my day!

I love writing OP reader, and I don't even know why. THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. (it's acc cool as fuck to imagine this)

Luffy x Magician!Reader

❥note ;; Magician? Hell yee, I feel like I could have done better, or maybe I will write an actual story about this, because it seems really interesting!

❥tw ;; Fighting, cursing // not proofread

You walked the trail on the island you grew up in. Wearing a cape, with some gloves and a hat. The sun was setting and the breeze was calm. You were the odd one out, but that didn't stop you from having a little fun.

You waved your hand around, causing leaves around you to float about. You smiled as you lifted them up into the air. Going in circles before making various shapes.

All of a sudden, big explosions were sounded in the town just ahead. Now as much as you hate this town, and the pirates that accompany it. You rushed over, using your powers to push yourself faster.

Upon arriving, you noticed the towns people and the pirates were in a heated fight. You looked around, trying to figure out why. You snapped your fingers and some cards appeared into the air, surrounding you.

"Ah the weirdo decides to join in hah?" The captain of the lowlife pirates. You rolled your eyes and turned to face the woman. "What are you doing with the town?" You noticed how the houses were getting torn down and fights happening all around. You also happened to notice someone whiz past you and a loud laugh.

Although you decided to shake that off and keep your attention on the lady. "Just finally taking what is ours."

You flicked your hand and cards went towards her. Blowing up.

She coughed and whipped out her sword. "Two can pl-" She was tackled to the ground and a black haired boy with a strawhat sat on top of her. "What-" You choked out.

One of her crew?

You haven't seen him around here, so he must be. You flicked your hand and the two of them go flying. "Weeeee!" You heard the boy laugh.

"Who are you?" A voice, from behind you. You turn around as one of your cards stop at his neck. You narrow your eyes.

"Why are you tearing apart this town." You demanded an answer.

He tilted his head in response as he took a bite out of the chunk of meat he somehow got. "Tearing? AH woah! Your hat!" He looked confused before pointing at your hat in surpise.

"I have one too! Yours is different." You shook your head and turned around, throwing some of the other pirates off of the people.

"Woah! How do you do that?" You deadpan at the boy who followed you around.

"Are you apart of this fight or not?"

"Join my crew!"

"No! You're ruining this town!"

"No were not, that's not my friends." You were confused, you decided to just blast some smoke and go back towards the fight.

Soon, a pile of pirates sat in the center of the town. Smoke and fire erupting around. "Y/n! You did it again!" The elder lady came and thanked you.

You looked around at the town, meeting the eyes of the boy from earlier. He held a wide smile on his face. "That was cool! Join my crew."

"Who are you?"

"Luffy! I'm going to be the king of pirates."

"Sorry dude, but me and pirates do not get along." You were hesitant.

"Come with me!"

This went on for awhile, as you used your magic to held rebuild and clean the area up, he followed you like a lost dog. Watching in awe and standing on some of the broken bits of wood you would raise in the air. He was starting to get on your nerves.

You pull the wooden plank towards you with Luffy on it. "Okay, what do you want?" He smiles widely at you as he has all day. "You're cool! I want you to join me. You'll love it." He giggled.

You scratch your neck before moving him away. He seemed nice, and he did help you get rid of the pirates. But he was also a pirate.

He stretched his arms and pulled himself towards you, crashing into you.

The two of you rolled before you landed a couple feet away. "Dude-" You grabbed at him and pulled his arm, which stretched. "Okay, that's a little weird."

"Pleaseeeee."

Deciding that he would probably not take no for an answer you decided to follow him to his ship. You could either get kidnapped, killed, or worse. You knew you had this in the bag though. "If you try anything I'm teleporting away."

He laughed in response as you somehow finally reached the boat. "Didn't we pass this like an hour ago.." He launched the two of you up into the center of the ship.

"Luffy! Why did you take off! You've been gone all day!" An orange haired girl scolded Luffy. A few others appeared and started complaining. "Who is this?" A blonde man appeared next to you with a rose.

"This is.. uh."

"Y/n."

After meeting everyone they seemed very weary of you. Luffy described what you could do and they looked hesitant. They haven't seen you in battle, but they don't doubt Luffy.

"She's our new crew member!"

"When did I agree to that!!?"

You bicker back and forth for a hot minute. This man acted like a child and it made you fume. You flicked your hand and hit him on the head with a rock. Not toooooo hard, and not like it would hurt him anyone. He fell down and laughed. "Look isn't that cool."

The others around you sweatdropped and were clearly on edge.

"H-hey guys.." The long nosed dude pointed to a ship that was nearing, quickly.

While still arguing with Luffy about joining, you flicked your wrist towards the ship. The ship erupted. Pieces of wood flying and people yelling and jumping overboard. The crew watched in awe

"You are a bad influence! I am not joining your crew!" He giggled at your reaction. You shake your head and turn around, heading to jump off of the ship. Acting like taking that ship down was nothing to you. "H-hey wait.. are you sure you don't want to join?" The girl from earlier had stopped you.

You narrow your eyes. Did you really want to join a pirate crew? You looked back and see a little reindeer chasing Luffy around. "You're hurt! Stop running around!" Your eyes dart to the side, seeing the blonde serve drinks to another lady.

"Ah fuck it."

EXTRA:

Over the past week of being aboard the Sunny. It was a new experience, and you hate to admit you enjoyed these pirates. They were... fun. You helped around the ship, soon they became your family. You helped Sanji and showed him new things, for cooking. You even entertained Usopp and Luffy with your magic.

You were beginning to like the pirate life.

#one piece fluff #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #op #x reader #fluff #Straw hats #Nami #Zoro #Sanji #Robin #Chopper

[fakesimp]

The Sorcerer or The Demon?

Warning !

Fluff ; Slight Nsfw ; First Meeting ; Shu and Vox fighting over you ; Vox is Shu' Shikigami ; Unestablished Poly Relationship ( For now )

Everything that's going on in the fic are at the past time line not modern time line

A/n !

No because I've seen too much fanarts of Shu and Vox together because of their new outfits (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

I can't help it -

➶◜◝➴

Save me,

Help me,

Anyone, please-!

. . .

"My my.. look at what we have here.."

"Now now, You're scaring her."

. . .

You shot your head up to see 2 silhouettes at the roof, the moon shines behind them, beautiful sight, but also making you stunned at the spot, breathing heavily from running for like a good while.

You lost your balance and fell on your knees, you noticed how mythical their clothing are. They're definitely not humans, your body shivers from the cold air.

It is snowing after all.

"...help me.." you whispered, your throat are hoarse, the cold is slowly killing you. Your eyes started to get blurry, and the next second you heard multiple footsteps coming from where you were running from, you turn your head immediately to see the light from a far, the light from the hunter's torches. Your eyes widen up in fear once more, you tried to stand up but your legs betrayed you.

They're completely glued into the snow, you then heard the hunters yell from a far, "THERE THEY ARE!" you look at where the voice was coming from, terrified. You ended up crawling away due to your legs not functioning properly,

And then you heard a low chuckle.

"...Ah, poor you, human.. do you want help, hm?" His low voice rings through your ear, and within a blink a man with black and red kimono, accompanied with a red haori appeared right before you, his Golden eyes stared right into yours.

Your eyed slowly look up at the very appealing, 2 pair of horns on his forehead. He's not a human. You don't know if you should be scared of him or the hunters behind you that's coming at you, you moved yourself a back a bit, away from the demon.

The Demon narrowed his eyes, the smirk on his face didn't falter though.

He's a demon, and how is there a demon that's literally this attractive??? You immediately shook your head at the thought, and then you heard something landed behind you.

A long Raven, purple haired male, appeared, his back is facing you, but you can see some, little floating papers around him and a floating purple orb on his right shoulder, he turn his head and look at you over his shoulder, his violet eyes stared right into yours.

Before you could say anything, you felt a sudden force under your knee and your back, and you're no longer at the snowy ground, instead you're now in someone's arms. Or to be precise, you're in the demon's arms.

"Shh.. rest now, human. Do not fret. You're safe." His low husky voice whispered to you, as if you're enchanted, you slowly drifted off in his arms. But before you entirely passed out, you heard another voice,

"Now shall we finish this?"

. . .

Warm.

You heard fire crackling near you, you slowly opened your eyes, to see unfamiliar room. You rise up from the futon, blinking confusedly at the sight of the unfamiliar room. You looked around and saw the small fire place near you, your eyes soften a bit as you stare at the fire.

But soon your head immediately went to the sliding door, and you saw the familiar silhouette, there's, 2 flying human like papers? Oh it's him. The male who have a beautiful pair of violet eyes. The next second you see the silhouette moved, the male looked over to the side, and then another silhouette joins, it's The Demon.

They're whispering something, but you couldn't make out what they're saying, that is until the sliding paper door opened up. You jolted and pulled up the blanket up all the way covering half of your face, "Oh look our little friend have gained consciousness." Said the demon as his golden eyes pierced into yours, he's smiling though.

Now you wonder if you should trust The Demon or not,

You flinched when the demon crouched down in front of you, his hand stretched out towards you, you hesitantly lower the blanket as you stare at his hand then his face. "Still scared?" He asked in his husky voice, while the raven haired male stared at you as he leaned against the sliding door frame. He smiled, the way he smiled is rather, unique..

You blinked at The Demon and The Sorcerer, that seems like a sorcerer? Perhaps? He seems like one from how there's floating human like papers and that floating orb on his right shoulder.

"I mean, you are, scaring them Vox" The Raven said, making The Demon turn his head at him and scoffed, "If i am, then how about you try talking to them hm?" The Demon stood up and moved away, letting The Sorcerer took his previous position, he slowly crouched down in front of you. His eyes seems gentle,

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere else? I've used a bit of sorcery to heal up some injuries you got" The Raven said as he points around your body, you then look down to see yourself, he is indeed telling the truth, some wounds are no longer there.

"..I, I'm okay... Thank you" You hesitantly thanked him, The Sorcerer smiled wider at you speaking, he glanced at The Demon and smirked a bit before looking back at you, "You seemed to be involved in a, quite unfortunate event back then. Mind to tell us what happened?" He asked as he look over at the flying paper figure, you believed they were called as, Shikigami.

The papers the flies over to the sliding doors and closed them, before going back to the sorcerer again, your attention was on the papers, you didn't realize that you've been watched by these two men.

"Are you interested in shikigamis?" The Sorcerer asked as he then reach out his hand towards you, and soon after one of the shikigamis flies to his palm, and float right above his palm.

The way you owlishly stared at the paper figure in silence, amuse the two men. The Demon soon sat down not too far from you, resting his elbows on the window as he stared at you. "You're an odd one, but I suppose, you are also an interesting human." Said The Demon, "Seriously Vox, if you want to flirt, flirt later" The Sorcerer replied and let out a chuckle.

You stared at the men in silence, watching them throwing insult at each other in a, unique way. Your mind is now traveling else where, now you're questioning why are you here. Are you going to be eaten alive by The Demon? Or are you going to be experimented on by The Sorcerer? Questions one after another start flooding in.

"Human." The demon, called by The Sorcerer as 'Vox' looked at you, eyes examining you. "You need to explain yourself or else things won't go well for you" he continued and within a blink his face is so close with yours, his hands under your chin forcing you to look up into his golden eyes.

The Sorcerer could only sighed and shook his head as he watched 'Vox' doing his thing, your body trembled as your eyes stared into his. "..Well? Go on, explain your situation, human."

. . .

You don't know how long it has been, but you've explained your situation on why you're getting chased by those hunters in the middle of the cold night.

"I see.." The Sorcerer said as he put his hand on his chin, nodding his head, "..So you're saying you get yourself, involved in a quite, sticky situation." He continued and his violet eyes that was closed are slowly opened revealing his violet eyes.

"My name is Shu Yamino, apologies for the late introduction" The Sorcerer finally introduced himself, "And that Demon right there, is Vox Akuma" he continued as he point at The Demon.

"Shu.. Yamino.. Vox.. Akuma..?" You repeated their names, but somehow it doesn't sit well on your tongue. "Vox.. is a Demon.. and you are.. a, Sorcerer, right..?" You look at Vox first then Shu, The Sorcerer nod his head, smiling. "That's right." He then stood up from the floor, he looked at the sliding door, and within a blink there's one of the Shikigamis in between his index and middle finger, and a purple combined with pink colored fire appeared right behind his shoulders. Vox immediately stood before you, his golden eyes glowed and he sighed out a mist from his mouth. You can hear him let out a low growl as he glare at the door,

"Looks like we got some uninvited guests"

. . .

©fakesimp . 2023

I am splitting this into parts... Though, reblogs are appreciated,

||-> Part II

A/n !

I just wanna see those, comments in the reblogs of yours fufu~

Also make this reach 200 notes. And I'll upload the next part (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ good luck~

#nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #luxiem x reader #luxiem #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino #➴ fakesimp writing for you

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1?

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Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

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(For ambiance~)

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Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

#Phantom of the Opera x reader #erik poto #poto #poto erik #phantom of the opera #erik destler #Phantom of the Opera 2004 #christine daae #Viscount Raoul de Chagny #raoul de chagny #Erik #opera #yn #x reader #x you #x y/n #my fic #Reader #Spotify #2004 Erik Destler #2004 Erik Destler x reader #Gerik x reader #Gerik phantom #poto x reader #Phantom of the Opera fanfic #phantom of the opera x reader #the phantom of the opera #The Phantom of the Opera x reader #The Phantom x reader

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday!!

Hello! I've got a two snippets from Single Dads AU today, both from Christopher and Carrie's first meeting, and when Carrie gets in trouble for defending Christopher. Hope you enjoy!!

Tagged by @rainbow-nerdss @loserdiaz @hippolotamus and @daffi-990 please go read their snippets right now!!

(Snippets under the cut to save your dash)

First meeting:

“Everyone, this is Christopher, he’s a new student starting out today. It would be really nice if someone could offer a space next to them for him to sit and show him around the school. Any volunteers?” Carrie looks around the class and notes, with annoyance, that no one’s putting their hands up. Some of the kids are whispering behind their hands and giggling, others aren’t even looking at Christopher. Carrie’s got a spare seat next to her and suddenly her Dad’s words are floating through her head. “We’ve always gotta look after the little guys, Carrie. It’s our job to protect people that need it.” Carrie’s not sure if Christopher needs protecting but she’s pretty sure he needs a friend right now so she puffs out her chest, thrusts her hand in the air and says, “Christopher can sit with me, Mrs. Dixon!” Carrie watches as Christopher just about melts with relief and Mrs. Dixon shoots her a grateful smile. Mrs. Dixon guides Christopher over to Cassie’s table and helps him into the chair, before patting Carrie fondly on the head. “You’re a good girl, Carrie, your Dad will be proud of you.” Carrie sits up a little straighter and grins. Dad will be proud, Christopher gets a friend, there’s no downside to this in her eyes. She turns to Christopher and smiles sweetly at him. “Your crutches look cool; I didn’t know they made them in blue!” Christopher looks at her, almost surprised, as if he can’t quite believe that she’s talking to him before smiling shyly. “My Daddy picked them out, he says they’re blue like Superman cause I’m his Superman” he replies, quietly and Carrie beams at him. “I love Superman! My Daddy got me to watch all the movies, but he says Marvel is better. I don’t really like superheroes, but Daddy does so I watch them to make him happy.” Just like that, Christopher and Carrie are fast friends, chatting away as though they’ve known each other for years.

Carrie stands up for Chris:

It's after lunch that it all goes a bit pear shaped. Carrie and Christopher are sitting at their table, chatting about dogs (Christopher want to know if dogs know they’re dogs. Carrie thinks they probably don’t), when Jordan, Carrie’s least favourite person, sidles up to their table with a smug grin. “Making friends with the freaks Carrie?” he asks, kicking one of Christopher’s crutches over so it clatters noisily to the ground. Christopher shrinks back in his chair, but Carrie merely glares at Jordan. “Go away, no one wants you here,” she retorts snarkily. Jordan laughs. “No, no one wants him here,” he says, his face twisting into a mean sneer. “We don’t like freaks in our class, go back to Texas, weirdo.” Carrie watches as Christopher’s face crumples and it’s like a fire is light in her belly, burning hot and angry and slowly bubbles to the surface. “I said go away Jordan!” she says, raising her voice. Jordan arches an eyebrow. “You’re a freak for wanting to play with him too, Carrie.” The anger in Carrie’s stomach burns hotter and hotter and she stands up, knocking her chair over. “Yeah well you’re – you’re a –“ There’s a million things she could call Jordan right now. Meanie?  Butthead? She’s heard Daddy say some bad words too that she could use. Like when he was really mad after he got off the phone with Uncle Doug a couple of years ago and she’d heard him call Uncle Doug a “fuckface”. Carrie really liked that one but when she’d called Lily a fuckface for taking her doll, Daddy had been really mad and asked her where she’d heard that word. He’d turned very pink and made Carrie never to call anyone that again. He'd also called Uncle Chimney a really naughty word rhyming with “runt” that Carrie can’t quite remember, so she doesn’t use that one either. She uses the worst, naughtiest word she can think of that describes Jordan perfectly. “You’re an asshole, Jordan!” she explodes, and the class goes completely silent. Jordan’s standing there, jaw hanging open with surprise, and Christopher is looking at her almost reverentially, his eyes glowing. She feels a rush of pride until…. “Carrie Buckley, come here this instant!!” Damn.

(No pressure) tagging @theotherbuckley @malewifediaz @thewolvesof1998 @jesuisici33 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @disasterbuckdiaz @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @smilingbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @wikiangela @fruitandbubbles @watchyourbuck @fionaswhvre @evanbegins @monsterrae1

#carrie is now my favourite oc #buck's daughter 100% #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #single dads au #911 buddie #buddie wip #911 abc #911verse #evan buck buckely #911 fanfic #eddie x buck #911 #wip wednesday #usercam

[sniiboo]

Connections

His vision was hazy, the scent of blood and fear filled his nose, and the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard his voice weakly giving attempts at soothing as he heard her screams through the air. Everything came into sharp focus at the sound of infant cries…

Astarion bolted upright from his trance the sounds still ringing in his ears. His undead heart would be bursting through his chest walls if it could. He could hear the sound of Karlach’s voice floating over to his tent punctuated by the sound of large amounts of liquid hitting the ground. He stumbled from his tent the smell of blood once again assaulting his senses. 

“Hey Soldier, It’s ok… Just settle down.” Astarion rounded the corner of his tent to the sound of retching. He looked around to find Karlach holding Death’s hair as the elf was on all four heaving up a copious amount of blood. 

He found himself standing by them despite his disgust he leaned down to Arendith and stroked her back. “What is going on here Darling?” the calm and care in his voice surprised him and Karlach. He looked up to the Tiefling as he took over and gently tied his lover's hair back while Karlach moved over to grab a cloth and some water handing them to Astarion. 

“I found her out by the fire digging her nails into her arms, shivering, when I tried to talk to her she bolted… She fell here and started vomiting, Should I get Shadowheart… That’s some pretty da-” Karlach crossed her arms in concern before turning to get the cleric. 

Astarion quickly cut her off “It’s ok! I’ve got this. We had quite a bit of wine tonight so I’ll keep an eye on her. Red wine hangovers can be quite intense, Darling. I’ll shout if anything…” He bent down further taking her shaking form into his arms. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this for someone he had only known for a few weeks. He’d even recently opened up to her about Cazador and some of the torture he’d endured.

“Ok, thanks Fangs. Keep me updated.” Karlach planted a gentle kiss on Arendith’s head watching as Astarion took her to his tent. 

Once inside he placed her gently on his bedroll and wrapped her in a blanket. Astarion sat in front of her and wiped down her face attempting his best to do it as softly as she had just a tenday prior. He stayed silent and poured a cup of water for her resting it beside her for when she was ready. He knew what this was right away. It had happened to him as well but he had managed to keep himself together. Astarion gently reached for her hands unfurling her clenched fists and wiping them of blood before moving to clean up her arms. 

“I’m afraid your manicure will have to wait, darling. You’ve all but destroyed your pretty nails.” he looked into the far-off look in her eyes, wishing he could summon her little beloved companion jackalope. “Where is Beans love? Should I call for her?” he wrinkled his nose taking in her appearance, bloody vomit speckling her outfit and chest. He grabbed a fresh cloth, a basin, and a soap bar. “Alright Little Death” he shuffled closer to her unsure of how to proceed. “Ah, I’m going to…” He paused and watched her lower lip tremble “Maybe I should go get Karlach” Astarion went to stand up and paused when he felt her familiar tingle in his brain, he gasped as he was assaulted with images in quick succession of each other. 

Arendith fell to her knees as a leather leash yanked her forward. A metal muzzle is attached to a metal collar as she is commanded to hunt. Arendith writhes in pain as her head is retrained by someone, a tattoo needle puncturing her lip while a man laughs in the background. Arendith is in a cell bloodied and beaten chained to a wall while a drow male screams above her. Starvation is all he feels aching at his core.

He’s brought back to himself, his skin prickling, the taste of bile in his mouth. Astarion looks up into her face and reaches to place his thumb on the lip and chin tattoo before leaning in. “Death… I…” 

Arendith shakes her head, and he sees her really for the first time as she is with no mask. Her eyes are dull, her skin is more grey than normal, and even her freckles are pale. He knows she’s starved, but even more than that she’s tired. It’s like she hasn’t been trancing or at least not well. He whispers the name unsure as to how he even knows of its existence. “Alistair…” his lips curl in a snarl which he quickly tampers as her eyes blow wide. 

Astarion finds himself floundering just sitting on his knees. He reached forward pausing as his lover flinches. “I… I’m just going to clean you up Darling…” his cool fingers gingerly swept the shoulders of her dress down. “I’m sorry, I know it’s cool, but once you’ve cleaned up we’ll warm you back up.” He wiped the cloth gently over her sweat-glistened chest his fang catching on his lip in concentration. “Alright my sweet” he patted her rump gently before standing “I’m going to fetch something, I’ll be gone but a moment.” He grabbed a spare shirt and placed it beside her watching as her eyes flared in fear again, body squirming unable to contain the panic within. 

Astarion’s pale hand grabbed her chin gently again to center her. “Arendith, you are safe here. He won’t be able to walk into this camp and get you any more than Cazador would be able to grab me. Karlach would throw them straight to the hells. Not to mention our other companions. Trust me…?” He kissed her hand and let her eyes hold his for a moment before he dropped her hand thankful that lying came so easily to him. He knew if he didn’t believe the words out of his mouth she wouldn’t but it may help her feel more secure. He stepped out of the tent careful to block anyone’s view. Everyone was stumbling about the fire wondering what the noise was about. Karlach walked over and he gave her a quick request for Gale as he handed her a jar from his stores. Astarion paused before entering “I’m coming back in Little Death. Just use your words if you aren’t decent.” 

He looked behind him to glare at anyone making fun of his softness or the use of the nickname but found them all looking at him tersely, concerned for their leader trying not to look like they were prying as Gale busied himself warming up Astarions’ meal. After not hearing her response, he pulled back the tent flap to find her standing shyly in his ruffled shirt billowing on her body. He stiffened slightly willing his body not to react. Something possessive in him screamed at seeing her in his clothing. Astarion wasn’t sure why he was so concerned over this elf, or why she was having the effects over him that she was. But he chalked it up to pulling on the threads of his trauma and nobody deserved to experience anything close to what he had. He swallowed hard and decided to file his issues under ‘to deal with later/preferably never’ and stepped into the tent, extinguishing a few candles to dim the lighting for her senses. He reached out for her hand gingerly as he sat down behind her.

As Death sat shakily between his legs, he pulled her closer as he wrapped a blanket around the two of them. Astarion’s nose was nudging up her neck as he settled into the position as Gale opened the tent flap.

“Astarion honestly I don’t know what you’re playing at asking for reheated dinner while Arend…” 

He paused as two sets of red eyes glowed in the tent and Gale took in the sight before him. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?”

Astarion growled lowly in his throat but before he could do much more Arendith snarled at the wizard and yelled “NOTHING, JUST LEAVE THE BLOOD AND GO BACK TO BED.” she paused. “THAT GOES FOR ALL OF YOU OUT THERE I CAN HEAR YOU ALL.” she heard Karlach snickering before her mothering instincts took over and she herded Gale back to his tent. 

“We’ll handle this all in the morning everyone, Astarion has her in check I’m on watch so don’t bother sneaking out to try to pull anything!” Karlach chided the group. “Night Soldier, Fangs… I’ll be here if need be ok?” she left and closed the tent flap on her best friend and the vampire knowing she’d be safe.

Astarion grabbed the goblet and sipped it cautiously checking the temperature he placed it aside for his snack after what he needed to do. He sat on his knees in front of the female elf “Are you still nauseated?” he looked her over for any signs of further stress noting the slow gallop of her heart as Arendith shook her head. “Ok,” he shuffled her legs into a V as he settled in between them moving his shirt from his neck “If you didn’t eat earlier you’ll need to feed now. Your body needs to recover.” he crooked his neck revealing the twin puncture wounds before he dropped his voice to barely above a whisper, shy in his words. “Please… let me repay the favour. I don’t know that I’ll taste as good as anyone, well, living… But it’ll do what you need.” He paused waiting for the feeling of her nuzzling to his neck to sus out her place, or for a bite… or for well, anything really but nothing came. He turned his head to regard her and found her eyes closed head pointed down to the ground a look of pain and shame on her face. 

Arendith’s voice left her wavering and gravely “Astarion… I… I can’t.” 

He spun around to face her his trademark flirty tone back “What do you mean you can’t? I’m right here Darling, ready, willing, and offering. Just bite…” his hand flourished.

Death curled her upper lip at him aggressively “YOU THINK I WOULDN’T LOVE TO?! I. CAN’T. BITE.” her curled lip swapped to a subtle smirk before she quickly moved her head into his space making a show of sniffing up his neck “At least I can’t bite to feed.” she nipped her fangs against Astarion’s ear. “I can bite in plenty of other ways…” 

Astarion rolled his eyes before putting his hand to grip over her face while pushing her away. “You didn’t let me get away with that. Ergo you aren’t either pet. I thought we used our words and not our body.” 

Arendith huffed against his hand “Don’t call me pet I hate it… Alistair called me that.” she paused searching his face to see if he’d drop the topic. “What do you want me to say… You have your scars… I have mine, only mine are cursed to stop me from biting anything without his permission, which obviously I cannot get.” she pointed to her chin tattoo “Not that he ever gave it if he could. Unlike the others I couldn’t be compelled so he saw fit to find ways he could control me.” she kept her eyes to the ground not wanting to see any pity in his eyes but looked up when she saw him move. 

A pale hand holding a goblet extended into her view offering the goblet. “Please, eat… I already ate, I honestly got this warmed for you…” he set it beside her before lying on his side. He watched as she eagerly drank down the blood feeling saliva pool in his mouth, again finding himself hungry for her. Astarion came back to himself to find her looking down at him with heavy glowing eyes. He reached up to wipe the trail of blood from her upper lip and sucking it off his thumb. Arendith smiled at him before leaning down to kiss his nose gently.

“I’ve already taken up a lot of your rest… I’m sorry.” She stood up and opened the tent flap “You know… I’d throw your words back at you and say you’ve given me a gift. But that isn’t quite right… Unless a person can be a gift… Then that is what you are…” 

Before he could reply she left his tent probably to join in on the cuddle puddle of Karlach, Beans, Scratch, the Owlbear, and that darn cat. How she slept in such chaos was beyond him. He blew out the remaining candles and palmed at himself trying to shift his discomfort as his mind reeled. As he settled into his bedroll to resume his trance he was brought from his daydreaming by the shuffle of his tent flap moving once again. 

“Death?” he mumbled sleepily, as he opened his eyes to scan the room he saw nothing but darkness. He sat up looking for the source of the disturbance before his eyes settled on that damned curious creature sitting at the door tail curled in on its body. He rolled his eyes “And what will you be wanting?” he laid back down hearing the creature chirp. “Well come on then.” he huffed as the Ragdoll sauntered up to nose its way under his blankets. “Oh for the love of- Why aren’t you with the damned druid and her ‘Cuddle puddle’.” he half mocked. The cat nuzzled into the crook of his arm, purring away happily under the protection of his body and the bedding. Astarion scritched the cat under its chin before wrapping his arm around its warm body. “This stays between us Kitten. Sleep well.”

#astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion x reader

[greenishghostey]

Dungeon Master meet Prop Master | part 1

Pairing: Eddie x Drama Club!reader 

Summary: A D&D nerd and a drama geek finally cross paths in their little shared paradise realm - the drama storage room of Hawkins High School.

Warnings: None! Just a good, wholesome meet-cute. There is some suggestive language but nothing is graphic/explicit.

Word Count: 4,639 words (this took on a mind of its own super fast)

Author’s Note: I’ve seen a few fics floating around where the reader is part of the drama class but I hadn’t seen a fic where reader is more behind the scenes, thus spending a lot of time in the drama store room - aka The Hellfire Club room. Also, the official title of the person in charge of props is ‘The Prop Master’ so that worked too perfectly. I couldn’t not go down that route. I was a drama kid in high school so I am definitely projecting a bit but at least I’m being creative with it.

I would like to say a little thank you to @manicpixiedreamcurl , @punk-in-docs​ and @luveline​ whose works and amazing writing styles inspired me to get back into writing after a really really long spell of writer’s block.

/// Part 2

The best part of being in charge of the props and the set for the drama club was the fact that you got to keep the coveted storage closet key. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest honour to the others in your club, but that closet and the rehearsal room were your domain. It’s where all the stuff was, the mass of stuff you had accumulated since freshman year for the club. Miss Butler had told you just last week that the place was “starting to look like a dragon’s hoard,” she’d spoken with her usual encouraging smile, so it really lit a fire under your ass. 

The rickety shelves were weighed down by stacks of old books you’d found in second-hand stores, some of which were actually pretty good - The Hobbit and the first three Oz books being your current favourites. The floor was cluttered with random small pieces of home decor you grabbed from yard sales around Hawkins - the old ladies of your neighbourhood had basically thrown the lamps, ornaments and doilies at you. There were a few pieces of large furniture that had been in the closet long before you were let loose in it - the usual set dressing stuff, small wooden desks, chairs, dusty rugs.

Your favourite piece that had greeted you as prop master was that big, ornate wooden chair - more like a throne - that you barely got to touch because the Dungeons and Dragons club’s leader had basically called permanent dibs. Eddie Munson was known to be a lot of things around the school and had been for what felt like forever. Freak, creep, cultist, asswipe - all the classics. However, to you, he was a chair hog, but that was about it. You’d never really put stock into the satan-murder-super-cult schtick that everyone and their mother spewed. He was the head of a roleplaying game club with its own fun little shirts, so how harmful could he be? 

For how much time you spent building, fixing, or organising props in the theatre room, you would assume Eddie would have crossed your path much more. But you guys always seemed to miss each other, and he was hard to miss, even on a good day. Fridays were Hellfire Club nights, so you would always have to just head straight home after last period. The rest of the week was fair game, and he never dared to stay on school grounds longer than he had to. You’d seen him tearing out of the parking lot yesterday. He nearly rear-ended Carver’s car while blasting Mississippi Queen - part of you wished he had taken the back off of the jock’s car; Jason was a bitch. 

It was Thursday, and you were perched by old plywood and canvas backdrops, surrounded by various shades of brown and grey paints - glasses on because this job was gonna require 20:20 vision or as close as you could get. Miss Butler wanted to direct a show-stopping production of The Crucible this year, so you were getting started on some very sad-looking colonial church backgrounds. The painting had always been one of your favourite parts of your role. Sure, brown and grey weren’t the most exciting colours ever, but you had to give yourself some credit; you really knew how to create faux, mouldy wood grain. Working in total silence just wasn’t gonna work, though, so you dug your cassette player and headphones from your backpack and welcomed the silky rasp of Patti Smith to accompany your Arthur Miller-ifying activities.

With ‘So You Want To Be’ blaring in your ears, you didn’t notice when the door to the theatre room was thrown open, and Hawkins High’s resident super senior rushed in. 

Eddie quickly started busying himself with the usual Hellfire set dressings dotted around the room. He usually set up on Friday afternoon but had some “business transactions” to deal with before the weekend, so after-school Hellfire feng shui it was. Eddie had dumped his backpack against the plywood backdrops behind his throne and started rummaging through scraps of notes, general lint and some old food crumbs to find his good set of metal dice. They always sank right to the bottom of the bag just when he needed them. 

A loud thud bellowed through the theatre room, quickly followed by Eddie’s voice cracking into a yell. 

“Son of a-!”

You shot up from your spot and felt your eyes widen at the metalhead, who was currently hunched under a piece of Saint Basil’s Cathedral, “Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay? I am so so sorry!” you scrambled around the backdrops to heave up the fallen pieces. They weren’t heavy enough to do any damage, but you’d been nearly crushed by them plenty of times. Cardboard, canvas and plywood are a bitch.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Just dinted my spine is all.” Eddie groaned, rubbing his back and stretching like some old man. “Knew you guys hated me using this room but wasn’t expecting a full-on assault.” He actually looked like he might have been injured from the rogue Cathedral piece. Maybe you were just used to things falling on you or stabbing yourself with craft knives. 

“Eddie, I’m really sorry. Do you want me to get some ice? The nurse might still be in her office, so I’ll run - I’ll be like 5 minutes, yeah?” You were scrambling for ways to make sure Eddie knew you were sorry. Rambling, really. God, you pride yourself on seeing past his mean and scary persona when others didn’t, but you’d gone and basically winded him with a church tower. Maybe if you took the hallways that the janitor had already mopped, you would be able to pick up speed and slide to the nurse’s office. 

Eddie took notice of your frantic state, eyes shifting around the room and towards the door, shoulders bunched up - you looked like the really nervous stray cat, Frankie, that wandered around the trailer park. “Hey, hey. I was just messing with you, specs,” he chuckled lightly. It was a new experience for him to see someone, let alone a girl, get worked up on his behalf in any capacity. Usually, he’d get an insult at worst or a grimace at best. He stood up straight and did a small half-spin so you could see for yourself that he was, in fact, fine. “See, I’m a-okay. Little offended at getting smacked by a church, but hey, it was gonna happen eventually.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You huffed, a smile sliding across your lips, “fuck you, Munson, I thought I’d actually hurt you!” you swatted him with the paintbrush you’d put in your back pocket, a few specks of grey paint hitting his jeans. You turned to make sure everything was secured to avoid another workplace accident. Then, you heard him laugh, it was something between a snigger and a giggle, and it was actually kind of sort of cute. What fresh hell was this?

“Fuck you,” he said, in a high-pitch, mimicking voice - Eddie had jokes now. Brave of him. “Fair enough. I’m sorry I made you worry about little ol’ me.”

“Wasn’t worried. More frantic concern,” you tried to shrug off his playful comment. It did bring a little heat to your face, but he didn’t need to know that. “What are you doing in here today anyway? It’s Thursday; you’re a day early.”

“Ah yeah, well, I’ve got some important business to attend to tomorrow so…” his voice trailed off as he leaned against the edge of the long table. He could have just said drugs, you were quiet around school, sure, but you weren’t a total square. Possibly more of a square with rounded edges. 

“By business, you mean weed?” You asked. 

“Yeah, weed.” Huh, he sounded a little bit discouraged in his reply but quickly covered it with a chuckle and a smirk. Typical Munson. “You wanna buy or?”

“God, no. I mean, I'm not judging it, but it’s not really my thing. One of my friends said she’s gonna buy from you for Willis’ party on Saturday, though.” Penny had been raving about scoring some weed for that party since Monday. She’d only smoked a handful of times in her life, but the guy she had her eye on was like a chimney attached to a house on fire. His name was Chris or Keith or something that started with a ‘C’ or a ‘K’. All you knew is that he was a glorified benchwarmer for the basketball team and had ‘sexy’ hair - Penny’s words, not yours.

“Is that the redhead chick who makes you run lines at lunch when there’s a play? She’s bought from me before but didn’t know what papers or filters were.” He couldn’t hold back a snigger when remembering how he had to explain the fundamentals of a joint to the poor girl. 

Eddie’s laugh was nice, you decided. You couldn’t find a word to describe it other than nice at that moment. Penny could take being thrown under the bus for a minute as long as you got to hear him laugh again. She’d made you read as Romeo one too many times, so, if anything, this was like karma. 

Wait. 

How did he know what you got up to at lunch? Penny was sometimes a little too loud when she got really into a monologue but you usually distracted yourself with your sandwich and soup when that happened. But Eddie had noticed. He had noticed the heavy-handed performance of your friend, but more importantly, he had noticed you. God, what if he had heard your crappy take on the witches from Macbeth? You’d done voices. 

“That’s her, yeah. Her name’s Penny. If you call her “chick” she’ll go nuclear. Just warning ya.” You needed to keep this conversation on track. You liked talking to Eddie. It felt easy. Like you’d always thought it would. “She’ll buy from you, but it’s for this dude she likes.” 

“Awww. That is so gross.” He replied in an airy, cooing tone. You’d moved to join him at the table, getting yourself comfortably seated. You really didn’t want to go back to painting. Eddie was actually kind of funny, and not in his usual loud, antagonistic way - you did still enjoy that, obviously, but seeing a new side to a pretty guy wasn’t something you were gonna complain about. 

“You going to Willis’ this weekend? Since pennies and some other drama nuts are, I’d assume you are to make an appearance?”

“Drama nuts, huh?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look genuinely miffed at the comment. He was right, though. Everyone knew theatre kids were fucking nuts. 

“It’s not a bad thing. Everyone’s a nut about something - sports, drama, music, sometimes math for whatever unholy reason.” He was now sitting on the table with you, leaning back on his forearms like he was getting comfy to stay there for some time. God. 

“And what are you a nut about exactly?” 

“Getting an answer about your party attendance, if I’m honest.” Oh. 

True be told, Eddie didn’t flirt all that much. When he did, it was usually to get a rise out of people or make them uncomfortable. But he’d had at least one eye on you for a while now. You were cute, which was the first thing he noticed - all big wireframe glasses and funky sweaters with weird patterns on them. 

The more he glanced your way, though, the more he liked. You were definitely the most level-headed of the drama nuts, reining in their impromptu lunch rehearsals. You were always jotting down notes in your little red, paisley-patterned notebook with “WORK STUFF” written on the front. You also snorted when you laughed at one of his comments in history like a month ago, so that had done a number on him for at least a week.

You were a little weird, honestly. But, he liked weird. Weird looked good smacking him in the spinal cord with theatre backdrops. Maybe you could smack him in other, more friendly, situations. That’d be cool. 

“Oh? You’ve got some lines, huh? I thought the charm was only for the jocks and Miss O’Donnell?” 

“My charm has many layers, thank you very much,” he smirked, the expression taking up his entire face. This guy’s Dante’s Inferno of charm was gonna have you ready to lose layers if it kept up. Wait, what cesspit of your brain did that thought crawl out from?

“Okay, okay, noted. Back to the weed party. Not really my kinda scene, too busy, too loud.” You smiled, a little sad at your confession. Big parties had never really been your thing, even when it came to birthday parties in elementary school. A cast and crew wrap party was always fun but you knew everyone at those, so it took less effort. Penny had been nagging your ear off for the past two weeks to “let your hair down,” but you knew you’d wind up being a buzz kill, regardless of what hairstyle you went for.

“The weed party? I’m gonna steal that one, specs. Could use it for my summer sales and marketing scheme. Business ventures aside, what is your scene if it isn’t weed parties?” He giggled a bit when he spoke. You weren’t going to be able to forget ‘weed parties’, but, hey, it could be an inside joke between the two of you, like friends. 

“Well, this, more or less. It’s all like my own big extracurricular craft project, I guess.” You said, gesturing around the theatre room, glancing towards the storage closet door, the backdrops, the variety of sword props you’d made for Othello last year, and stacks of old paper that you had meticulously aged. It wasn’t much of a “scene”, but theatre was your life. Creating all of those little details that could elevate a play and bring it off the page alongside the actors was a great feeling. Most people didn’t understand why you liked painting backdrops or making stuff out of plywood or foam. Penny tried to. Bless her heart, but maybe Eddie would get it. Maybe he could peek behind the curtain and understand.

“Wait. So like, you make all of this stuff? Dude, seriously?!” Eddie lept up from the table quickly and dashed towards the “weapons bin” - it was the name you’d lovingly given to the big crate that was full of fake swords and daggers from previous productions. Miss Butler loved a good Shakespearean tragedy to get her thespians ready for their future Tony award nominations. Eddie rummaged through the crate and pulled out one of the more “adventurous” pieces you’d made. The blade itself was pretty basic, made from some foam with a wooden base to keep the shape and covered in metallic paint you borrowed from your dad. The handle and guard were what you were really proud of. And, apparently, so was Eddie. 

It was an aged gold colour, made to look like the metal had been held numerous times but was still well-crafted. You’d taken way too much time to shape the handle to look like finger grips had been hammered into the gold. There were detailed patterns etched into the guard that you’d done with a craft knife at your kitchen table. It had been a bitch to work on since you’d stabbed your fingers a lot, but it looked fucking sick. Eddie held it like it was real, like it was a gift bestowed upon him by the gods themselves. 

“You’re telling me you made this?” He spoke earnestly. It was the first time you had ever heard him sound that way. His big, dark eyes felt like they were scanning your whole body, not just your face. 

“I don’t handmake everything, but the swords and other stuff that’s production-specific, yeah, I have to make it.” 

“This sword. This sword, here. It’s the fucking crown jewel of our Hellfire campaign right now,” he stated. He’d started running his hand along the fake blade while maintaining eye contact with you and wearing an awestruck look. This must have been another layer of that charm he mentioned because warmth was crawling up your neck. There was an innuendo about stroking a sword rolling around in her head, but you weren’t ready to embarrass yourself that quickly - things were going too well.

“The Sun Strike. The most sought after and powerful magical sword. The guys are gonna use it to destroy this cursed rogue knight dude. Or, at least, that’s my plan. The new freshmen might fuck it up; who knows.” He swung the sword around as he told you all about the tale of the weapon, spinning it around in his hand. Eddie was so weirdly unpredictable - the scary satan worshipper could go sword tricks and was grinning like a big goof.

You didn’t speak for a few moments. You just stared at him and the sword from your perch on the table. This guy really was insane but in the best way possible. He looked like an excited little kid with your prop in hand. 

Your parents had always supported your passion for building and crafting pretty much anything your little mind could think of - you’d once made a magic staff out of a gross tree branch you’d found on a hike. However, they never really got the enjoyment and sense of pride that crafts gave you. Breathing new life into something that might otherwise be viewed as mundane or as nothing. Transporting even the smallest object back in time to any period with some paint, some brushes and a whole bunch of all-nighters. 

It was more than just fun. It was more than just a hobby. And Eddie Munson, of all people, seemed to understand that loud and clear. He’d even named one of your creations. How adorable was that?

“Hey, specs? Specs? Sorry, I should have asked to use your stuff. I didn’t know any of this was actually made by some-”

“No, no. Do not say sorry. Nuh uh,” you yelled, moving towards Eddie and grasping his upper arms. “The Sun Strike. That name is way cooler than anything I could come up with, so no sorry’s. And - and it's magic? Like good magic or bad magic?” Your quiet shock was long gone, and you started shaking Eddie by the shoulders. The bright grin on your face was infectious as Eddie stared at you, his expression slowly matching yours once the reality of your questions had set in. You were excited and asked him about D&D and liked the sword's name. Eddie had never been concerned about how smoking would affect his breathing, but you had him near gasping for air. 

“Good magic, don’t worry. The best kind, actually. Like the light of the world, that type of stuff. Crafted by the fair hands of a Sun goddess herself.” Eddie explained with a lopsided smirk. Fuck, he was so proud of that piece of lore now; he could use it as a line on a cute girl. That had never happened before. 

“Was that pre-established, or did you just make that up for me?” You laughed, not giving a single shit about what the answer was because you were a fucking Sun goddess. Now that you had calmed down, you made sure to let go of Eddie before you gave him minor whiplash. You were also becoming increasingly aware that being so close to him was feeling a little too nice.

“Nah, ‘fraid to say that I came up with that when I first saw it last year. But how about we change your name from ‘specs’ to ‘sunny’? How does that sound?” It almost amazed Eddie how easily he was laying it on thick with you. 

“Keep ‘specs’ gives me the chance to redeem a name from middle school. Besides, one of the other girls in drama gets called Sunny, so no dice.” You were cursing Sunny to high heaven in your head. Her real name was Mary-anne, and she only got the nickname because her last name was Sunderland. But, you didn’t need to start gaining a God complex over a fake sword, so ‘specs’ you would have to remain. 

You and Eddie continued to talk about your projects and if he had worked them into his campaign. Funnily enough, he had only used the gold handled sword since he’d never had a real inspection of the other treasures in the theatre trove. You were starting to grasp the fundamentals of D&D, and you could clearly see how fun it could be. What Eddie did with his club was sort of similar to you and the drama club - transforming, transporting, reviving. While helping him move some new stuff into place for Hellfire Club the next night, you both fell into a calm rhythm. You would suggest setting and props that could work for what he had planned in the session, and he would ‘hm’ and ‘haw’ about the place for them. You’d given him a few more fake weapons - two daggers and a wood-cutting axe - along with some weathered books and candlesticks. 

This Hellfire set was one of the best you’d worked on, and it wasn’t even for the drama club. It was still just as theatrical and imposing but was also cosy and welcoming. Kind of like Eddie, you’d realised. After the evening you had spent with the town pariah, you were even more against the vile opinions people held about him. He was a huge cheeseball, inside and out. You had handed him a huge, beat-up, leather bound bible, and he nearly shrieked with excitement as he put it on the table. Behind the hair, the leather and the bite was one of the sweetest guys ever. 

Eddie lounged back in his ornate, dark wood throne, surveying the upgraded Hellfire Club set-up. Candelabras, weaponry and some gothic patterned fabric draped over the ladder against the back wall. The place had never looked so right, so good. The best addition to the room, however, was you. You, organising the extra boxes and crates to clear up the space around the long table. You, who was giddy while dashing around the room and trying to get the fantasy-medieval-heavy metal aesthetic just right. 

“Gotta hand it to you, specs. You can craft a damn good set. Very metal.” He chimed, giving you a soft round of applause from his throne. 

“It’s all pure, raw talent, Munson.” You stated, standing proud with your hands on your hips and smiling smugly. Eddie was still glancing around the room with a look of childish wonder on his face. He’d put on the lights and bathed the room in a cosy, honey glow. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes. Wide, burnt umber, and so full of appreciation. This doe-eyed metalhead was past the point of doing it for you. You could feel the budding beginning of a crush - hadn’t had one of those since freshman year when Patrick McKinney was your biology partner for, like, two weeks. 

“You know, I used to think you were just a chair thief. I’ve wanted to put that huge thing on stage for ages, but now I’d feel bad if I accidentally tainted its reputation.” You gestured to Eddie’s throne - you were more willing to call it that now. 

“Well, I called dibs like a year before you even started here, so there. This bad boy is dripping in my glamorous reputation. I mean, look at this butt groove.” Eddie proclaimed, standing up quickly to reveal a pretty impressive imprint in the leather seat. You were being encouraged to inspect his ass, and who were you to pass up an opportunity like that. His dark jeans hugged his legs subtly and were definitely doing him favours. “Also, it’s 6:30 now, so we should probably think about vacating the premises. Higgins gets antsy if he senses that I’m around for too long.” 

“Shit, it’s that late already? I gotta get home. I promised to watch MacGyver with my mom after dinner.” You quickly grabbed your backpack from behind the backdrops, only for some of its contents to spill onto the floor - your tapes, some almost dried-out pens and your copy of A Wizard of Earthsea. 

“Oh ho, what you got there, specs?” Eddie, ever the gentleman, gathered up your stuff but didn’t hand it over right away. A chance to see what kind of music you were into? That was far too valuable. “Some Patti, a solid choice. And… Yes. Unexpected, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Didn’t peg you for a prog rock kind of gal.” God, he was annoyingly good at this. Making you flustered but still comfortable - making you want to match him toe to toe.

“I like cool ladies and funky guitar riffs. I’m very easy to please.” 

“Noted.” He grinned. The bastard grinned from ear to ear. And you ate it up. “Anyway, you need a ride home? It’ll be dark out by now, and you can even have stereo privileges.”

Riding your bike home in the dark was always a dicey experience. You’d done it a few times after staying late at school accidentally and ended up walking most of the way since you were too worried that a car would run you off the road. Plus, Eddie had a van, so getting your bike home would be easy too. 

And control of the music? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

“That’d be great, actually! I live over on Fletcher; I think it’s kinda close to your place.”

“It’s on my route. So, let’s make like a tree.” Eddie picked up his backpack and headed towards the door, nodding for you to follow. 

You had to restrain yourself from practically skipping through the halls. Staying late for theatre stuff was always fun, but it did start to get a little lonesome. Theatre kids in Hawkins loved being on stage, but they weren’t huge fans of being behind it. 

But Eddie. He was on the stage, behind it and in the goddamn audience. He had a sort of omnipresent energy that followed him around. Most of the student body saw it as annoying, obnoxious or just plain evil, but you knew better. He was passionate - that was the best word for him. He was passionate about his game, he was passionate about his music and- 

“Specs? This your sweet ride?” Eddie asked, ringing the bell on your bike. It was a dull, low ding - your bike was old as balls, and so was the bell. 

“Yep. That’s her. Gorgeous, right?” You boasted, slapping the bike seat. The bike had been your mom’s many moons ago, and while it was a senior citizen, it was still a great shiny silver. Isopropyl and a wire brush kept her pretty. 

“Maybe a little old for my tastes, but got the silver fox thing going, which is doing- something for me.” There he went again - the invitation, the tease to keep the banter going. You were about to quip back at him when he hauled your bike onto his shoulder. He held it so carefully even though it was just a bike. “Van’s across the lot, so I’ll carry the old girl. Come on.” 

You just nodded, maybe a little too excitedly, but better than talking with your foot in your mouth. You jogged a little to catch up with Eddie, falling into a brisk pace with him. It was early October, and the wind was starting to get its bite back. 

But you couldn’t help but feel a little warmer when you watched Eddie awkwardly shift himself and wrestle to get your bike in the back of his van. 

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #fluff #fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #tbh this is also kind of a fix it fic #because i'm bad at writing angst #not gonna lie i'm actually pretty proud of this #Eddie is like my dialogue muse because i was horseshit at writing dialogue that sounded believable before this #Eddie #eddie munson x you

[primalmagic]

stars in the noon sky

linh's coming over, marella's room is a mess, and she's just a little bit stressed about her mom.

──────────

Marella tightens the red bow in her hair for the one millionth time, humming softly to her favorite song. It'd been playing on repeat for an hour now, but she hadn't been paying attention- her mind was occupied with... something else.

Finally satisfied with how she looks, she closes a cabinet door. As she wipes a suspicious stain off of her mirror, a sharp knock echoes across the bathroom walls.

"Marella, darling, what have you been doing in the bathroom for so long?" Caprise's clipped and unfocused voice floats through the door.

Fuck.

"Nothing, Mom! Do you need anything?"

"I want to take a bath."

"You alright took two baths today," she frowns, nearing the door.

"I want to take a bath," Her mother repeats stubbornly.

She unlocks the door and lets her mother in. It was one of her mom's good days anyway, and the last thing she wants to do is make things worse. See, ever since she had manifested and started throwing fireballs everywhere, something had shifted between the two of them. Because yes, she'd stood up for Marella, but now she was more... skittish around her. Maybe she was reading into it too much, but it made her feel sick. It wasn't her fault she was a pyrokinetic.

"Just be out by the time Linh comes, okay? I'll see you then." She kisses her mother's cheek and leaves the bathroom, ignoring the confused look on Caprise's face- she either forgot Linh was coming over, or forgot who Linh was.

She spends the next two hours tidying up her room, which was saying something, because Marella Redek absolutely hates cleaning up her room. It isn't just a chore, it's absolute torture. Plus, it's not like anyone has ever bothered to remind her to clean it. Her dad barely interacts with her anymore, and her mom... well, her mom was her mom. So, after months of throwing things around, her room was beginning to look like a dumpster fire.

She isn't proud of it, and she's damned if she'd ever let Linh come over to this sort of mess. So now, for the first time in forever, she's cleaning up.

And look, she's nervous. Linh is, well, amazing. She's kind, and talented, and funny, and all the things Marella has ever wanted to be. Plus, she's gorgeous. And not just in looks- but in action. Watching her around water was one of the most fascinating things Marella has ever witnessed. She was elegant, and graceful, and-

"Marella?"

She looks up from the ground, hands on a textbook from years ago. "Oh, hi Linh," She manages weakly, "I was just... studying?" She gestures towards the book in a rather awkward manner.

And Linh, ever the sweetest, smiles at her and asks "Anything I can help with?"

"No, uh, I was just finishing up. Sorry." She thrusts the book into a nearby closet and stands up. Idly, she looks at Linh, only then realizing that damn, when had she grown this tall?

Marella has always been taller than her, it was a fact. One that she'd tease the older girl about relentlessly. Now they are practically eye-level, and she doesn't really know what to feel about that.

Linh blinks, "What?"

For the love of mallowmelt, she'd been staring, hadn't she?

"Nothing, I just realized that we're almost the same height," She frowns, "It's a pity. I won't be able to see your hair anymore."

Linh scoffs, "You'll see my face. Isn't that better?"

"Yeah," She looks her in the eyes, smiling slightly, "It kind of is."

That didn't seem like the response she'd been expecting, and Linh turns a light shade of pink and looks away. "Anyway... uh, your mom let me in and said there were cookies in the oven, want to go grab them?"

At the mention of her mom, her smile dims slightly. She walks past Linh and grabs her hand, dragging her down to the kitchen.

The cookies are not in the oven, in fact. They are sitting unbaked upon the kitchen counter.

Linh frowns, "Oh well, we can put them inside, and come back later?"

At that, Marella giggles. "I know it's really easy to forgot, but I'm a pyrokinetic, darling. I'm like, a living, breathing, oven. Except I get things done a hundred times faster." She waves her hands around dramatically as if it emphasizes the point.

"Oops," Linh laughs, "Sorry?"

Marella watches her hand, willing the smallest spark to answer her call. A tiny flame begins to lick her hand, swelling and waving as it hits the air. She puts the cookie tray on top of her hand and watches as the cookies slowly turn harder and form a clear shape.

"Damn." She hears Linh mutter.

"What?" Had she done something wrong?

"I don't think I could ever get used to you doing that."

Unease curls in the bottom of her stomach, fear pulsating and whispering in her head. She hates you. She hates your fire. You're an idiot. Fuck, you're such an idiot.

Linh's eyes widen, "Shoot, that came out wrong. I mean, like, it's really beautiful. The flames, and the way you control them. It's- it's really cool."

Marella stands there a while, partially in shock and partially basking in the warmth of her friend's words.

"Marella?"

"Marella?? You alright?"

She blinks, then sees Linh point at her hand. The cookies, now a harsh charcoal black, lay in ashes upon the slightly-bent tray. Flames dance upon the edges, high enough to reach her face.

"Sorry," She mumbles, "Sorry. Somehow my fire ends up messing everything up."

"I don't blame you," the older girl shrugs, and after a moment, adds: "Or your fire."

She wills out a large droplet of water and plops! it on top of the still-burning cookie tray. She looks up and grins, "There you go! Problem solved."

"Thanks," Marella laughs lightly, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Linh nods, "I take my job of being the only one that can put you out very seriously."

"You mean, put my fire out." Marella snorts.

"No, I mean you. You and your fire aren't different people. It's your ability, and a part of who you are." Linh looks at her curiously, "Why do you always act like it's on its own?"

It's not accusatory, but it causes the blond to look away. "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," She steps closer to Marella, "Are you alright?"

The truth spills out of her before she can remember to keep her mouth shut. "My mom does it, a lot."

"Does what?"

"She's a flasher. Whenever you ask her to use her ability or just... do something, she'll always just frown and say her light 'doesn't want too'. It's... I think I know why she does it, honestly. It's so much easier to pretend that it's not my fault that my ability did something wrong. Especially when everyone's so goddamn set on calling me the villain because I'm not Talentless, but somehow, I'm ten fucking times worse!" She yells, not sure what the hell she's doing anymore. But she's started, and she's definitely not done.

"And my mom... they say she's getting better. They say she's learning and she's going to be okay but I know her, and I know she's not. And it sucks, because I love her, and I need her, but maybe I'm wrong and I don't know who she even is anymore. I'm constantly walking on broken glass around her now. It's like- it's like, before we would be able to do things together and now... now it's like we have nothing in common at all."

Linh interrupts, looking at Marella with an expression she can't quite pinpoint, "You have her freckles."

"Sorry?"

"You have your mom's freckles. They aren't super noticeable but they're still there. One right next to your nose and the others on your cheek. Your mom has them in the same places. Not that it matters or anything, but uh, you know, just an observation." She mumbles, turning away.

"Oh." Marella blinks, willing her blush to go away. "You've got a good eye for details."

She shrugs, "Not really? It's just, easy, when it comes to you, I guess?"

"How come?"

"They're like stars," She leans on the countertop and looks up at Marella, "Like the really small ones you can only see during the dead of night. The ones that have always been there, but you just don't notice 'cause you haven't been looking close enough."

Marella opens her mouth to speak, but closes it when she realizes Linh isn't done.

"They're like stars in the midnight sky. But you're not midnight, you're the freaking sun. Stars in the morning sky? What's the opposite of midnight?" She frowns and scrunches her eyebrows (it's not cute, Marella thinks).

"...Noon?" She supplies.

Linh snorts, "Sure, noon. Stars in the noon sky."

"My freckles... are the stars in the noon sky." She blinks again, because she doesn't really know how to reply like that.

"Yep!" She laughs.

The silence that follows isn't awkward, but it's not quite comfortable either. Marella grasps for something to say, and eventually speaks.

"Hey, Linh?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a really awesome friend."

She beams, "Thank you!"

"Want to go grab mallowmelt?"

Linh's smile never disappears, "How could I ever say no to that?"

#marelinh #FireHydrant #marellinh #linhella #marella redek #kotlc #kotlc fic #keeper of the lost cities #fanfiction #queer #sfw #lesbian #they are in love #but they don't know it #</3 #kotlc fandom #linh song #kotlc marella #kotlc linh #fire hydrant #lgbtq+ #wlw fanfiction #i hate editing sorry #caprise #fluff #please please please give me feedback !! #i have no written in three years and i am super rusty #this took me a solid three hours #if i messed up tense please lmk i hate doing that

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (23)

If there’s one thing you can say about the Cattons, it’s that they know how to throw a party. 

The extravagance is overwhelming - hundreds of people are scattered about the grounds and in the house, all dressed to the nines in midsummer night’s fashion. Glitter seems to float in the air from how the strobe lights flash pinks and blues into the night, catching on every slightly reflective surface and amplifying tenfold. Though it's been hours since the sun disappeared behind the maze, the heat of the day still lingers, trapped between all the sweaty bodies. On the lake, lotus shaped lights drift with the breeze. 

Music blasts through the grounds, and Venetia hasn’t let go of my hand since the crowds first started rolling in. It feels like Cambridge again - the dancing, the drinking, the way that it’s just us in a sea of people, laughing and smiling and shouting at each other over the music. It’s a high on it’s own - though there’s copious amounts of coke if I wanted any.

A man bumps into Venetia and sends her stumbling into me, gripping onto my shoulders for dear life. Still dancing, she turns as the man leans down to apologize, picking up my arms and wrapping them around her middle. I rest my head on her shoulder as the man retreats, and our dance renews, swaying and grinding to the beat. 

We simply dance for a while, until Venetia tips her head back to speak into my ear. “I need another drink!”

I press a wet kiss to her cheek before letting go. “I’ll catch you later?” 

“Always.” She says, winking at me before sauntering off towards the house, her spiderweb dress like a string of prisms in the night. 

I reach down to adjust my own dress - a strapless sheer thing peppered with strategically placed peaseblossoms to cover all my bits. Left alone, the craving for a cigarette hits me, and I wander off the dancefloor in search of something to smoke. 

Even off the dancefloor, the crowds are thick. I wish Venetia had chosen something a little more substantial for me to wear - something, preferably, with a place for me to store a pack of cigs and a lighter - but I can’t pretend that my dress isn’t simultaneously the sexiest and prettiest thing I’ve ever worn. And, this quest for a cig will be a chance to meet some new people that I’ll likely never see again - a favorite pastime of mine. 

The squeeze past a gaggle of girls all dressed as fairies, following the scent of smoke. I spot the burn of a cherry in the throng, and cut through the crowd until I’m standing in front of a guy that I don’t know on the edge of the crowd. In the distance, a fire flickers on the lawn, a pig slowly rotating over the flames. 

His eyes sweep over me, and he grins around his cigarette. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I return, putting out a hand to shake. “I’m Evelyn.”

He takes my hand, and shakes it twice. “James.” He says. “What can I do for you Evelyn?”

“I was looking for someone willing to give a pretty girl a cigarette.” I say, batting my eyelashes at him. “Are you my guy?”

He laughs. “I’d be willing, for a price.”

“What kind of price?” I ask. There’s no world in which I have sex with this man for a cigarette, but I’m curious to see where this goes.

“I’ll give you a cigarette,” He steps closer, narrowing the distance between us and pulling his cigarette out of his mouth. “If you give me a kiss.”

I grin. “Sure.” 

Tilting my head slightly upwards, I plant a kiss on his waiting lips. It’s too wet, and he slips his tongue in too early, and it makes me miss Farleigh. Farleigh knew how to kiss. 

James pulls back, and digs a cigarette out of his pocket, handing it to me. I press the end to his to light it, and tuck it between my lips, sucking greedily. 

“So.” James says. “You wouldn’t happen to know who’s birthday it is, would you?”

“Oliver.” I say. “Little guy, about my height, big blue eyes. I’m sure you’ll see him around at some point.”

“Oliver.” James rolls the name over his tongue. “I don’t know him.”

“He’s a friend of Felix’s.” I say. “From Oxford.”

James hums, placing his cigarette back between his lips. “I used to go to school with Felix, when we were both in secondary school.”

I nod along, my eyes drifting away from him and back towards the flickering fire in the distance. Two silhouettes stand in front of the flames, one with antlers coming out of his head - Oliver - and the other, tall with a halo of curls…

I watch the taller silhouette bend down, getting in Oliver’s face. It can’t be anyone else. It can’t. 

I turn back to James. “I’m really sorry, I just saw someone-”

His gaze flicks over to the fire, and then back to me. “It’s fine.” He cuts me off. “You’re not really my type anyway. I don’t make a habit of fucking Americans.”

I only acknowledge the comment by flipping him off as I slip away, making a beeline for Farleigh. The walk to the open fire isn’t long, and it’s made even shorter by the speed at which I dash over. He stands up from Oliver, and I catch the sour look on Oliver’s face as he stalks away, back towards the house. I breeze past him.

“Farleigh.” 

He turns, his face splitting into a grin when he sees me. “Eves.” He drops the head of his costume in favor of sweeping me up into a hug. He squeezes me for a moment before he realizes what he’s doing and sets me back down. “Sorry.” He says, sheepish. “I just- sorry.”

I can’t help but giggle. “No, it’s okay. It’s so good to see you. It’s been so boring without you here, I missed you.”

He smiles. “You make a girl blush, Eves.” 

“So did you sneak in, or..?” I prompt, raising my eyebrows. 

“Believe it or not, I was actually invited.” He says. “They just can’t resist my boyish charm.” 

“Is that what it’s called?” I tease. 

“That’s what I call it.” He says, dipping two fingers into his sleeve and pulling out a little baggy of white powder. He reaches down, grabbing one of my hands and shaking a line of powder onto the back before running his nose along the skin and hoovering it up. I watch, wide eyed, as he licks up the excess, never breaking eye contact with me. 

Letting go of my hand, he wipes his nose, and jiggles the little baggy. “You want some? It’s pure - I made sure.” 

“Why not?” I say, taking the baggy from him. He holds out his hand, and I do what he just did, shaking a line across the back of his palm and snorting it up. Only, instead of running my tongue over his hand, I simply look at him. “Go on. Lick.”

Pupils blown wide - from the coke or my words, I don’t know - he licks the back of his hand, swallowing the rest of the powder. 

“Where's Venetia?” He asks. 

I glance behind me, back towards the manor house. “Dunno. She went to go get a drink a while ago. Probably throwing herself at Ollie by now.” I look back at him. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Just wondering if she was going to tug on your leash anytime soon.” He says. 

“Farleigh.” I give him a look.

Undeterred, he continues. “Since she’s left you, how about hanging out with me?”

I grin, stepping closer to him. “I’d like nothing more.”

&lt; previous part | next part >

#farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #saltburn x reader