#i call this piece portrait of a confused man

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

#Hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hellverse #OOC Lucifer? #He just ain’t as goofy #But I HC he’s only like that around Charlie :) #fanfiction #writing

[otterneuvillette]

✧ BLOOD SUCKER ! ✧

⋆🍷— pairings: vamp! wriothesley x fem! vampire hunter! reader

⋆🍷— Sypnosis: You are Fontaine's biggest vampire hunter (Van Helsing vibes) and your dream is to eliminate all vampires in Fontaine. You were trying to lure one of the oldest existing vampires, Wriothesley at the Musée du Vampirisme until someone approached you. Confrontation ensues.

⋆🍷 — content: fem! reader, angst, spicy but NOT SMUT‼️‼️ (OOC wriothesley?)

⋆🍷 — A/N: In favor of the spooky szn, I give you this!! (Also Reader has a history of some sort with Wriothesley. Also sorry if this is too rushed and doesn't make sense, I was trying to finish this before Halloween lol!!)

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You wandered through the marble halls of the Musée du Vampirisme, marveling at the exquisite artworks on display. You paused in front of a particularly alluring painting, captivated by the man depicted in it. It was a portrait of a man, in his late 20s or so, his eyes held a icy stare piercing through at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"Quite a captivating piece, isn't it darling?" The voice was deep and smooth. The voice had a mysterious tone that both intrigued and unnerved you.

A tone you knew all too well.

Wriothesley.

Your crazy plan worked! But now what?

"It is. It's really truly one of a kind." You said, before realizing what he said.

Your eyes widened, cheeks ablaze with embarrassment.

The nerve of this-

"Did you just call me darling?!"

"I did indeed, my dear." He replied, gaze still fixed on the painting before us. His demeanor was still casual, the mystery of his character only making him more annoying. 

"I don't see a problem with that, do you?"

You huffed in annoyance, Wriothesley could see the feistiness in your spirit, the burning life in you.

And he loved every second of it.

"You know, darling, your fiery temper only makes you more desirable." He turned his attention to you, his gaze never leaving yours. "Don't you agree? I would assume that you are quite the passionate lady." Wriothesley took a step closer to you, unable to resist your innocent charm.

"And you, my lady, do you know who the man in the painting is?"

Oh? He's playing coy with you now, well, only two can play that game.

"A Night Child, or in human terms, a vampire."

You explained.

"This painting specifically was painted in the 1800s. The peak of vampirism, where vampire activity was at its highest."

"Very impressive darling. You know your history." Wriothesley nodded approvingly. "It's not every day I meet a lady so knowledgeable about that time period." My gaze became more intense, and I could see the way it affected you. 

"Would you like to know something else about that painting, my dear?"

"Hm?" You made a noise of curiosity. Wriothesley leaned closer to you, his gaze still locked on your frame. "That painting is, in fact, a painting of myself." 

He gave you a satisfied smile, allowing the truth to slowly sink into your mind. He knew how he had one-upped you, that he was leading this game, he loved the way your expressions changed as you went through different emotions: confusion, shock, disbelief-

As soon as it happened, your expression turned blank, emotionless.

"Oh, I know." You chuckled with a toothy grin, eyes shining with familiarity.

"Did you enjoy my expressions, Monsieur?"

Wriothesley's eyes narrowed, slightly upset that you were poking fun at him so brazenly. You noticed how his eyebrows furrowed a little, and you smirked, knowing that you'd won.

But it's okay, he'll have to make sure that you get what you deserve later.

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You cleared your throat, and you saw how his eyes darted quickly to the movement.

"Hello, Wriothesley. Fancy seeing you in the museum after closing hours, no?"

A faint smile curled up on Wriothesley's face. 

"Hello, my sweet. It's been a while since we last met, no? You must be that hunter the humans speak of. I've heard rumors about you; your abilities, your tactics, the number of vampires you have slain over the last few years." 

He paused, admiring the way you carried yourself so far.

"That's quite a reputation you have created for yourself. It's a rare sight, that determination of yours. I don't know if it's by sheer luck or recklessness that kept you alive."

"Hah! It seems like my reputation precedes me!" You grinned wolfishly.

Wriothesley swears he could feel the waves of pride escaping you, it was adorable actually.

He chuckled, still admiring your strong sense of self. 

"Indeed it does. It seems like you enjoy this little game of ours, but let me tell you, my dear. You have no idea what you're going up against. I am a vampire of the ancient world, my powers have been cultivated for centuries. There truly is nothing like me; no other vampire in this world can match me."

His voice still carried a hint of amusement, you could tell that he enjoyed this little game of dominance with you.

"And I have taken down many powerful vampires Fontaine could offer!" You kept your gaze dead straight on his, the confident grin still plastered on your face.

"So, what are you doing here? Any ill intentions on that head of yours?" You asked.

"I don't have any ill intentions, my dear. I simply came here to appreciate some old-world artwork. You know, humans were a lot more artistically inclined back then."

He took a deep breath, in a bit of a teasing tone. "And I must say, you look quite fascinating too, my lady. Your beauty, combined with your fierce attitude...quite the combination, to say the least."

"Hmm...your sweet talk will never work on me this time, Wriothesley."

You said, enjoying the conflicted look in his eyes.

Wriothesley's grin widened, the confidence in his words growing even larger. 

"And who's to say I want it to work on you. If anything, I enjoy my reputation being challenged by an outstanding young lady such as yourself..."

He took a deeper breath, slowly approaching you. "But, what if I want to taste your beauty, your fierce attitude. What if I simply want to...devour you?"

"I wouldn't want to try that if I were you. I've got my reputation for a reason, you know? Fastest kills in this business."

"Is that a challenge? I don't see how a little woman like you could ever overpower me. Just look at me...I stand before you as a vampire lord. No one can possibly resist me."

His hand ran through his hair, and I looked deep into your brown eyes. "But I also cannot deny that I am quite intrigued by this little game of ours. It has been so long since I last saw a mortal that could match me."

You gave him a cocky grin and took a step closer, so now you're basically toe to toe with him.

His gaze locked on yours. The smell of your sweet blood was intoxicating, and I felt my fangs itching to pierce your skin, to taste all of you.

"Tell me, my dear, would you mind if…I take a little bite?"

He leaned in closer to you, lips just inches from your neck. Wriothesley's voice was whisper-quiet as if asking you for a forbidden delight.

The glint of silver under your coat shines brightly underneath the museum's lightning. The sharp blades lined up against your belt prepared and enchanted.

"Don't try it, Wriothesley."

Wriothesley let his tongue dance across his fangs, words becoming an intimate whisper in your ears. 

"...Please...I beg of you."

He was completely and utterly drunk by your beauty. Your blood, it was calling his name. He wanted it too badly, he'd been fighting these urges for so long, surely he couldn't wait any longer

"...I want to take a little bite." His breath was heavy, and his voice became more desperate...hungry even.

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"I will sink this blade into your heart if you try."

You growled, challenging him.

Wriothesley couldn't help but be impressed by your determination. A human being who was always prepared; always ready for a fight. You were different from the rest, the ones who cower in fear at the sight of a vampire.

"I see that, my dear. I see that. But I also see this...what is it? A necklace, an amulet, around your neck." 

His gaze was locked on the glinting, pure silver you wore. It was too obvious to ignore. "Tell me, what does it do?"

"It doesn't concern you."

Your bluntness and self-assurance intrigued him even further. "Oh, but you see, my dear...it does concern me. I am the one who has to deal with it, after all.

He took another step closer to you, hand reached out towards the necklace. His other hand remained ready to catch the dagger if you decided to strike.

You moved at a speed, pulling out a vial from the many pockets of your coat, the speed of it even stunned him.

Before he could say something, you had already crushed the vial in your hand.

The scent of your blood fills the air and Wriothesley gets distracted from it. It was sweet but in a mellow smell, a little flowery. The same scent that he used to remember.

His face contorted as he could smell something else than your blood that corrupted the scent that he craved.

Holy water.

Wriothesley snarled, his gaze went back up to you, and his eyes narrowed. His fangs bared and his eyes let out a dim glow.

"No human in his entire life had ever been able to pull off something like that." Wriothesley thought.

He could smell the faint scent of the holy water wafting through the air, and his body tensed up. He was too distracted by the beauty of your neck, by the lure of your sweet blood. That moment of distraction almost cost him his life.

"My goodness, my lady. You're quite dangerous." He whispered, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "How did you obtain this?"

"I have my ways, connections to the church and all." You shrugged, your hands dripping with your own blood. The holy water slightly stung your wounds.

Wriothesley took a deep breath, the smell of your blood still lingering in the air. 

"You're smart to come prepared. Too many hunters have come at me unprepared, cocky even." He laughed.

"I had to give you credit. You seemed to be the only hunter that could possibly match me. Your beauty combined with your intelligence made your presence even more alluring..."

His grin grew even wider, fangs gleaming with more intensity. The thought of your lovely blood trickling down his throat...the image alone sent shivers down his spine.

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"Now tell me, Wriothesley, why were you following me here?"

The two of you stood facing each other, one hand bloody and another one clenching into a fist as an act of self-control.

Time to put the plan into action.

His eyes widened in surprise. "I wasn't following you! I merely happened to be here for a different purpose." He took a few deep breaths to keep himself calm. He couldn't give you any hint of the real reason he was here.

"I came here to appreciate the artwork, as I have previously stated."

He lied.

"And I must say, what a coincidence that you happen to be here as well. But do tell…why is it exactly that you also happen to be here, my dear?" Wriothesley's eyes narrowed. He had already suspected it, but he still wanted to hear it from your mouth.

"I was trying to see if you were following me." You said, it was kind of the truth yet also a lie.

You were trying to lure him here.

A faint, sly grin appeared across Wriothesley's lips. "You really think I am dumb enough to follow you around, without even hiding my presence?"

He took a step closer to you, his face dangerously close to yours. The scent of your blood intoxicated him, and it was becoming more difficult to control himself. "I am not the type of vampire to just follow you around without you knowing."

He moved his lips closer to your neck, voice was barely a whisper. "After all, I'm much more subtle."

"But let me ask you something, my dear. What if I really was stalking you from the shadows? Would that have scared you or made you feel more…exhilarated?"

He paused, his warm breath lingering on your neck. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "It certainly feels like the latter in this moment. The thought of a vampire stalking your every move, with you never knowing. Is that why you're so tempted to give yourself to me, my dear?"

"I never said that I would give myself up to you!" You teased, turning to face the other side.

"No, but the way that your voice trembles when you speak to me, and the way your body shakes ever so slightly in my presence." He tilted his head.

"You may be brave, my little dove. But your heartbeat has been racing in your chest since the moment you first saw me. And there is a reason for that."

He stepped closer to you, my gaze fixated on your skin. "We both know your secret desires deep in your, my sweet child,"

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and your temper flared up again.

"Lies. I feel no such thing."

You whispered harshly, stepping away from Wriothesley.

"Tell me, my dear. Why do you fight me? Don't you want the bliss of surrender? I can provide you with everything you've ever longed for."

"There's nothing you can provide me that could sway me from my path!" You exclaimed.

How dare he-

Wriothesley laughed, closing his eyes for a moment. He savored your boldness, your stubbornness, your courage.

"Is that so?" He said, in a teasing tone. "That path won't be for much longer if you get in the way of my plans."

His eyes opened, and he locked them onto yours. "Tell me, if you could have anything you wanted, what would it be? Money? Power? Fame? I can provide all those things if you just abandon that hunter path of yours."

He chuckled silently. He was still enjoying our little game. The moment of tension, of uncertainty, of danger. It was such an intoxicating feeling. He loved seeing the way you stood your ground, but also loved knowing that your will could be broken.

"But what if I don't want those things?" You asked, your voice quiet.

"I already have everything I need, it would be selfish for me to ask for more."

Wriothesley didn't understand your response at all. Was it stubbornness, or was it courage? Perhaps both.

"Selfish? What an odd reply coming from my little dove."

"Why would it be selfish to ask for everything your heart desires?" He said in a whisper.

"What if I'm the person who can grant you that wish?" He offered.

You chuckled, before cocking your head to the side.

"I don't need anything from you, but, you want something from me."

Wriothesley chuckled, unable to deny the truth of your words. "You're very perceptive. Yes, I do want something from you." He paused, thinking of the exact wording I wanted to use. "I don't just want something. I crave something you have inside you."

His fangs were sharp, and my lips were so close to your skin. "And that, my little dove, is why I've come here."

"Come on, won't you let me have a taste of your irresistible blood?"

"I'd kill you if you tried." You said in a low voice, eyes glinting with a dangerous glow.

Wriothesley smirked. "Kill me how exactly? With this tiny silver dagger you carry?"

He glanced down for a moment, then looked back up at you. His face was filled with amusement. "If you can manage to pierce my heart, then by all means… I'll welcome the sweet release of death."

Wriothesley was not cocky. nor arrogant. Death is the only thing that ever truly frightened him. And yet…the sight of you holding a silver dagger to his throat while looking into his eyes with that determination of yours, was truly enticing.

"But before that happens, I want to savor your beauty. I want to feast my eyes on your delicious neck, I want to have you right here in my arms." He moved my face even closer to yours, until your lips were centimeters away from each other.

"Imagine you and I together. A mere human girl, and an immortal vampire." His voice was filled with passion and seduction.

"Together."

The two of you were so close from each other, so close from being united in a sensual embrace.

But then you pushed yourself away from him.

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Wriothesley let out a faint growl as you jerked your body away from him. The smell of your fear and panic excited him. He wanted you to give in to your desire. He wanted you to throw that dagger away and surrender yourself to him.

"C'mon, my little dove. Isn't this what you want? Isn't this what your heart has been longing for?" He reached for you again. "Come to me, little one.."

"N-No! I will not fall for your tricks again—"

You rushed towards the doors, breathing hard. Puffs of steam escaped as your warm breath met the cold air of the museum.

He watched you run towards the doors, his hungry gaze fixed on your body. The shape of your hips, the curves of your legs, the soft texture of your skin. He wanted to have you, and he wanted it now.

Quickly, Wriothesley moved over to you. He grabbed your wrist and forced you to halt. He moved his face closer to yours, once more. "Now why are you running away my dear? Do you not want this as badly as I do?"

He leaned in, just centimeters away from your neck, right above your pulse point.

Wriothesley couldn't help but savor this moment. The look of fear and doubt on your face, the sweet temptation of your slender neck. He didn't want to hurt you, but his urges were so difficult to control.

"But what's life without a little danger, my sweet dove?" He whispered, his lips lingering just above your skin.

"Just a slight taste…I promise I won't even break your precious skin…" He panted slightly, his cold breath sent shivers down your spine.

You managed to slice him with the silver blade on his arm as he was distracted by the scent of your blood under your skin.

"Let go of me!" You growled.

Wriothesley's eyes widened, and he quickly let go of your wrist. "My my, my little dove." His voice was dripping with amusement. The smell of your blood, the taste of your fear, was more arousing than it ever was before.

"I'll be honest with you, my dear. You're an incredibly fascinating human being. You've impressed me with your boldness, your courage, your resilience."

He held up his bloodied arm, the smell of blood lingering in the air. "And now that you've hurt me…I want you even more."

He ran my tongue against the cut, the taste of blood only serving to heighten the desire he already felt.

How he wanted to drain you dry, to let you slowly dissolve inside of him. The way your eyes fluttered in fear, the way you trembled before him…

"Tell me, my dear. Are you sure death was still your preferred option?" He whispered. "After all, death means an end. And I can offer you an eternity of pleasure if you just came with me…"

"I swear, I will kill you. I'm letting you off easy here, let me go, or I'll make sure you won't see the light of the moon anymore." You threatened him.

This wasn't going the way you planned at all.

He chuckled, my eyes sparkling with sick and twisted joy. "Such boldness, my little dove. You're right, this does turn me on."

He moved even closer until your faces were just a few inches apart. "A mortal like yourself has the gall to threaten me…an ancient vampire." His hands slid up your arms, his cold, undead skin against yours made your heart skip a beat. "Do you know how adorable that is, my dear?"

Wriothesley couldn't help but let out a faint growl. There was something different about you than the other hunters he had encountered before. You weren't the type to back down. You had fought back even when everyone else would've been terrified and run away. Your courage was alluring, your spirit intoxicating.

"Your fearlessness. Your determination. It arouses me, my little dove. I want more." He moved one of his hands to your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Please don't resist, my dear. You'll only make this more addicting for me."

"I understand perfectly, my sweet dove. But do you understand what happens if you don't give in to me?"

He was staring deep into your eyes with his hypnotic gaze. "The longer you resist me, the harder I will find it to control my urges. And if your luck runs out, there will be no one to save you from me. Not even your precious Archon."

"Surely you want to survive, my sweet dove. Just let me have a taste."

You hesitated.

But then you had an impulsive idea, and it could just work. Maybe your plans on killing him might work after all.

Yet now, you felt as if you couldn't bring yourself to kill him.

You loved him still.

So you settled for the next option, capturing him.

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"Fine." You whispered, pretending to give in.

He smirked as you finally gave in, and your lips came in contact with his. The taste of your lips, the warmth of your breath. The softness of your skin. It was all so addictive.

He parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside. He had let out a deep moan, body trembling with pleasure. Wriothesley didn't want this moment to end, he didn't want you to escape.

The taste of your blood was on his tongue, and he had never wanted anything else more than to drain you dry.

The two of you remained like that for a few moments, your tongues locking in a playful battle for dominance.

After what seemed like hours, Wriothesley pulled away, breathing heavily. Your blood was on his tongue as well, the sweet taste driving him wild and he had to admit…

He had never felt more alive than ever.

Suddenly, it all stops.

His voice was barely above a whisper. "What…have you done…?" As soon as you had kissed me, the hold he had tried to control had weakened. He could feel your heartbeat throughout his body. It was louder than usual.

He realized that you had sedated him with some kind of special tranquilizer.

He stared at you, suddenly realizing what you'd done. His lips parted slightly, breathing growing more labored. "Darling..." He whispered. "Why did you do this…why…"

His heart grew heavier, and his racing thoughts began to dim.

"What…what's happening…?" He moved my hands towards his chest, his heartbeat growing increasingly erratic. "Y/N…what's happening, please…"

"I'm sorry, my dear. I just need you to go under for a bit." You whispered, gaze turned cold yet you felt pity in your heart.

"It shouldn't kill you, just knock you out as I capture you."

"Why you…" Wriothesley's voice was strained, his breathing shallow. My eyes grew heavier, and his legs gave out from under him.

He crashed into the floor, unable to move. "My dear…" He gasped, his hands clutching his chest. "…please…darling"

His thoughts blurred, and his breath was shallow as he tried to remain conscious. "Don't….make me…sleep…please…my love…"

"Goodnight, Wriothesley, I'll promise I'll keep you safe from the church."

Wriothesley remained unresponsive as he listened to your voice, his body limp.

He was completely at your mercy, a state he had never experienced before.

A small smile spread on his lips, his heart flickering with joy. He felt alive. He also felt loved, and desired. He was no longer alone. There was someone who cared for him.

It was such a strange feeling.

A tear fell down his cheek as he drifted into unconsciousness, his thoughts quieted down.

He prayed that the next time he woke up...

It would be in your arms.

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#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley fluff #genshin smut #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #october #happy halloweeeeeeen

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

Not right now - Five Hargreeves

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader

Word count: 1658

Warnings: crying

Summary: After Five returns back to his family after living in the apocalypse you ask him how he’s doing.

Five stood in front of you, putting the slices of bread for his sandwich on the table before blinking to get some marshmallows from a cupboard. Vanya, Allison stood on the left side of the wooden table, Diego and Luther on the other side while Klaus had opted for placing himself on top of said table. You were sitting on a chair beside Vanya, your gaze set on Five. His suit was way too big and it wasn't the usual academy uniform, but that was the only signs visible from his disappearance.

"Where did you go?" Diego asked, however he sounded pretty uninterested in the answer. But the question had to be asked, you all knew it. Five, who was getting some marshmallows, didn't miss a beat before he answered.

"The future," his spacial jump back to the table caused a pause in his answer, "it's shit, by the way."

"Called it!"

You rolled your eyes at Klaus but kept your gaze at Five. It was odd seeing him again, and it was even more odd that he hadn't changed a bit since last time. He was still in the same, young body, the same haircut, the same movements as he'd had then. He looked just the same. Just the same as the portrait above the mantel place. But he had another look in his eyes now. Before he'd disappeared, it'd been determination and a will to prove himself. Now it was something else. It was like a gray layer had placed itself upon his green eyes. Like someone who'd been through way more than they should.

Five gave a sight as he continued making his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, "I should have listened to the old man." He opened the refrigerator to retrieve some peanut butter, "you know, jumping through space is one thing," he threw the refrigerator door shut but it stayed open just a glimpse; he didn't acknowledge it though, "jumping through time is a toss of the dice." He paused and looked up at his siblings, his gaze sliding over all of you before landing on Klaus' attire for the occasion, "nice dress."

Klaus lit up, "oh, well, danke!"

Vanya cut him off at the last second and returned the attention to Five, "Wait, how did you get back?"

"In the end I had to project my conciseness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time."

Diego had his gaze locked on the floor, trying to process whatever the hell Five just had laid out on the table for them. He frowned slightly and shook his head, "that makes no sense."

"Well, it would if you were smarter," Five deadpanned and completely ignored Diego when he quickly stood up, taking offense in Five's answer. Luther quickly held out an arm to stop Diego from doing anything more drastic.

"How long were you there?" Luther still looked as confused as he'd done when they all first entered the kitchen. He'd just been standing there listening to what Five had been saying, trying to get the puzzle pieces to fit together.

"Forty five years. Give or take." Five's answer got both Diego and Luther to sit down, completely taken back by the answer. It clearly wasn't what they'd expected. Neither of you had expected it. And Five spoke so easily about it that it almost irritated you that he didn't take it more seriously. Instead he took it with a peanut butter - marshmallow sandwich and a shrug of his shoulders.

"So what are you saying? That you're fifty eight?" Luther's curiosity and his need to understand everything had started to kick in and you could see that it started to get on his nerves. He explained with his teeth bitten together that "my consciousness is 58. Apparently my body is now thirteen again."

"Wait, how does that even work?" Vanya questioned with a shake off her head. You'd given up on trying to understand how it all fit together. None of you were as smart as Five. You'd never been, and you'll never be. All of you had come to term with that. At least you had. Five had turned away from you when he answered, "Delores kept saying the equations were off," he took a bite out of his sandwich, "bet she's laughing now."

"Delores?" Vanya wondered out loud, but Five ignored her. Instead he looked down at the newspaper where Reginald Hargreaves were on the cover. Or at least the news about his funeral.

"Guess I missed the funeral."

"How'd you know about that?" Luther asked, eyebrows furrowed and a questioning look in his eyes.

"What part of the future do you no understand?" Five deadpanned and looked up at him. You shook your head slightly at the banter, it was just like old days. It was like everything was back to how it was seventeen years ago.

"Heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah- no," Luther quickly changed his mind.

Five clicked his tongue and voiced what you'd been thinking about just seconds before," nice to see nothing's changed." He dropped the newspaper on the table again and started walking away. When he almost made it to the exit, Allison spoke up. She'd been quiet the whole time but reality finally struck her.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" she turned towards him, disappointed when he didn't slow down his determined steps.

"What else is there to say? The circle of life." His steps echoed until they faded away completely. The kitchen got quiet as everyone tried to grasp what had just happened. Allison was the first one to speak up again.

"Well that was.. interesting." Vanya and you nodded in agreement, meeting each other's gazes and silently asking each other what was happening with the world right now.

"I'll go talk to him," Luther decided and stood up to go search for Five. Your gaze snapped to him and you stepped out in front of him when he started making his way to the stairs.

"I'll do it, just, lay low for now," you said quietly. All of you knew that out of everyone you'd been the one with the best connection to Five through the years you'd spent together. Luther opened his mouth to argue with you but you just quietly shook your head at him, silently begging him to stay out of this for once. He raised his hands in surrender and sat back down at the table with the rest of the siblings. You gave him a nod and walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to go search for Five.

You found him in his old childhood room. He had changed out of the oversized suit and was back in his old academy attire. The clothes fit him perfectly and it looked like he wasn't a day older than 13. On the bedside table was a prosthetic eyeball, but you decided it would be best not to question it. Five sat on the edge of the bed, arms resting on his knees and his face in his hands. Your light knocking on the half-open door made him look up. A look of distress covered his face and he pulled a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly. His green eyes met yours and it was as if you could see the memories he'd made while being gone. It all played over and over again in head and looking into his eyes was like watching a movie roll.

"Are you alright?" your voice was soft and the care that it held made Five wince in his seat. He hadn't heard that in a long time it did something to his heart. He was home again, with his family. With you. He pulled at the tie, trying to make it easier to breathe. He shook his head at you.

"Please, leave me alone, I can’t… I can’t take it right now."

Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Take what?" you wondered out loud.

Five looked away from your gaze and loosened the tie. He frustratedly pulled a hand through his dark hair, getting it out of his face, only for it to fall back again. Tears had gathered in his eyes and he picked at his cuticles.

"Being asked if I'm okay."

You sighted softly and walked over the threshold, shutting the door close behind you. Five slid down from his bed and positioned himself on the floor, back resting against the bed and knees pulled up against his chest. Tears fell from his eyes now and he furiously wiped the away, looking away from you to avoid meeting your gaze. You sat down on the floor with him, resting a hand on his arm, your thumb softly stroking across the material of his jacket.

"Hey, Five," you said softly, trying to get him to look at you. Pulling a gentle hand though his hair and softly titling his chin up so you could see his eyes, he finally looked up at you. The care in your eyes and the gentleness you showed him had more tears falling down his cheeks but this time he didn't bother to wipe them away. He let them fall, the cold tears making his cheeks wet and then fell down on his shirt before getting soaked up in the material.

"It's okay, you'll be okay," you mumbled and wrapped your arms around him, gathering him in your embrace. He fell into your arms, letting himself relax in just a few moments before the world was due to end. He gasped for breath, his sharp inhales and shaky exhales were all that could be heard in the room. He clung onto you, holding you close to him as if you would disappear if he didn't hold you close enough.

"You're not alone anymore." That's when he lost it. Those four little words whispered to him against his dark hair was all that it took for him to just let all the walls fall in. He let himself get lost in your comfort and your closeness. The hard floor under you both was making your legs ache and the position was awkward, but Five didn't care. You were here, right beside him again and he would let himself enjoy that as much as he could. You pressed him into you, falling into him just as much as he fell into you. And it was enough for now. Even with his gasping breaths and desperate hold on you, it was enough for now, for this little moment. For these few minutes.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #five x reader #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves fluff #five hargreaves x reader #the umbrella academy imagine #tua five #number five

[purpleyoonn]

Dance of Time

P R E V I E W

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: Coming Soon

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff,

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Some warnings may be added to the beginning of individual chapters.

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“Okay, so I do have some questions that I would like to ask, if that’s okay?” You speak for the first time since the tour began. The boys share another quick glance before Namjoon nods.

“Of course. What tour would this be if there were no questions to be asked.” His words had you calming down a bit.

“Okay. First question. Can you tell me why this manor was nicknamed the ‘Weeping Manor’?” You were still walking as you had your pen pressed to your paper, ready to write down whatever their answer was.

“I think you will actually find the answer within the last room.” Namjoon gestured to Jin who opened the door at the end of the north corridor.

The door opened into a large room, shelves filling the space as you looked towards the right, books with pages spilling out just calling your name as your mouth opened in awe. 

Right in front of you was a large oak desk, the top of it covered in your books and articles, you could even see some pieces highlighted or underlined as you slowly walked closer.

You felt nervous, the entire atmosphere shifting from joyful and playful to dark and eerie. You turned behind you to question Namjoon or Jin but they were gone. The door now closed and the room’s only light coming from the slightly open shades on the window behind the desk.

Your eyes flittered across the space, looking for the two men who seemingly disappeared into thin air, wanting to leave and be done with the tour.  You didn’t like the feelings you were having, the cold air brushing across your skin coming from nowhere.

“Mr. Kim?” You called out, turning back around to the door only to have your eyes catch sight of a large family portrait.

It was a painting of the property, dating back to 1838 when the manor was originally built, even before the town had an official name and place on the map. Seven men resided in the front of the portrait, sitting and standing in a line just in front of the large pine tree that resided to the right of the men.

You moved forward to get a closer look at the portrait when the tiny description just below caught your eye.

“The Kim Coven. Ca. 1838.”

Coven? What did that even mean? Your confusion didn’t end there but grew into shock and something like horror when you finally looked up to the faces within the portrait.

The man standing within the middle of the painting was a spitting image of the man who gave you the tour. The same man who met you at the local diner and exchanged emails back and forth with you.

To his right, and to your even deeper horror, stood Seokjin, eyes almost staring at your shaking from beneath the paint.

You took a step back, your hand covering your mouth in fear as you tried to back away from the painting when you bumped into someone. A whimper leaving your lips as you tried to quiet your sobs.

“Please…please.” You began to beg, knowing you were done for.

“Oh, darling. Please don’t cry.” The man behind you coos, a hand moving up to move your hair away from your neck as a small kiss is pressed to your skin.

“You’re finally home.”

#bts #bts au #vampiretan sonyeondan #bts vampire #bts vampire au #bts reincarnation #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #vampire bts #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly! #kidnapping #historian mc #reincarnated mc #slight yandere bts #possessive bts

[legally-lupin]

Full moon- prof! Remus Lupin x student! Fem Reader

Reader is of age!!! Afab reader

Summary: when a walk in the forbidden forest goes terribly wrong

It was a wonderful night the full moon was out and nearly every star in the sky was present. y/n decided not to spend it in her dorm. She crept her way out passing portraits and teachers until she made it safely out of the castle. A blanket in hand as well as her art supplies. Why waste this beautiful night when you can paint it?.

With a wand in hand incase things goes south y/n found the perfect place on top of a hill. Where the floor was covered in tree roots and only one flat piece of land for her to sit. She scouted the area before setting up. It had a perfect view of the castle.

The girl too emerged in her painting to acknowledge what was happening behind her. A snap of a wood branch was enough to pull her out of her trance. She wiped around to be met with a werewolf. Her eyes widened as she dropped her equipment in shock.

The grey wolf stared at the girl with familiarity. It whined as if it’s in pain as it took another step to the student. Y/n breathing became rapid as she backed up. Her back hitting her canvas making it fall over

“Dam it” she hissed pointing her wand at the creature who continued to whine as if it was communicating. Without thinking y/n made a run for it. She weaved through the forest the wolf tailed behind her snarling. Y/n looked behind her to see the wolf had disappeared until she looked in front of her. It’s big teeth the only thing she sees before everything turned black.

Professor Snape was patrolling the grounds when he heard a shrilling scream coming from the forest. He knew that scream.

He followed the echos of the scream until he found his student all alone on the forest floor bloodied and beat up. He quickly scooped her up and ran her straight to Madame Pomfrey who healed her.

It took 2 days for y/n to come back to her senses. When she woke she was met with instant pain.

“Oh good your awake. How do you feel?” Madame Pomfrey was by her side in an instant assessing her

“What happened?” The girl croaked looking around

“I don’t know what compelled you to go into the forest alone! At night! But it was a very close call. Your very lucky professor snape heard you and brought you here. You was attacked we are unsure w-

“The wolf” the girl gasped

“What was that dear?”

“A werewolf approached me when I was painting but I don’t remember what happened after that” her eyebrows scrunched together on confusion

“Your all healed up except for one which going to scar. It’s right on the bridge of your nose but don’t worry if wont be that noticeable” the older woman patted the young girls shoulders handing her a bouquet of your favourite flowers

“Someone left these for you” the healer gave a warm smile before exiting the room.

A note was attached to the flowers:

My dearest y/n

I am so sorry for what happened to you. What I did to you. I tried to fight it. I really did try but it was stronger than I. I know these flowers aren’t enough and I’ll do my best to make it right. And hope you’ll forgive me.

R x

Who could R be? Y/n had no idea. But whoever this person was they were also a lycanthrope.

Two long nights past when y/n became strong enough to attend her lessons. She had to use a cane to be able to walk. She was late to her first class but professor snape was understanding

“Ah y/n very glad to see your doing well” the professor gave a small smile which turned into confusion as the girl handed him a green box

“And what is this?” The girl hugged the man. The class was shocked to see the professor hug her back

“It’s not much as I don’t know how to repay you for saving my life but thank you so much” y/n softly said before making her a way to an empty seat next to Draco Malfoy.

“Glad to see your ok y/n” pansy said smiling

“That cut makes you look even hotter!” mattheo smirked touching it you pulled away hissing from pain

“Yeah, what happened to you?” Draco said y/n gave a brief story to the group she repositioned hissing as she felt a sting. Her friends looked at her as the girl leant on Mattheo for support which he placed an arm around her waist to hold her.

“Are you sure your ok?” Draco asked in concern

“Yh I’m fine just need to stretch my legs” she rested her head on Mattheos shoulder the whole lesson which he offered.

“Y/n let me help you to our next class” Mattheo offered before she can say anything he took her bag and placed a hand on her waist whilst your friends walked along side you.

When you arrived at DADA professor lupin was already there writing tasks on the board.

“Sorry we’re a little late professor we was making sure y/n got here safely” Mattheo spoke walking you to your table and taking your partners seat. You watched your teacher freeze at the sound of your name.

“Oh no worries mr.riddle. Y/n I’m glad your alright” the teacher spun around after he finished writing. He had fresh cuts on his face and he looked pale almost corpse like

“Thankyou professor lupin. If it wasn’t for professor snape. I wouldn’t be here” You watch as your teacher gulped hard his Adam's apple twitching as he weakly smiled

“We are so glad you are alright” he sat at the front of the class marking students' papers.

As you got on with your work. Snippets of that night flashed through your brain. The eyes of the werewolf and the blood on your hands. You didn’t realise you started to have a panic attack. The air thinning as you tried to breathe. Remus noticed this and ran straight to you

“It’s ok. Your ok breathe for me. In … and out. Y/n come with me ok” you didn’t respond as you were moved to the professors office he sat you done on a big arm chair and rubbed your arms.

“Sweetheart. Listen to my voice ok” your eyes frantically looked around the room before meeting his

“Y/n I want you to focus ok. Tell me five things you can see”

“Y-y-your r-record player, b-books, chocolate, tea cup and you” your breathing started to regulate as you focused

“Ok good now four things you can touch”

“Your j-jumper, this chair, the floor and my hair” as you calmed down you stared at the man in front of you all teary eyed.

“Brilliant we gonna keep doing this ok? Three things you can hear?” The older man smiled softly

“My class, the rain and you”

“Ok now two things you can smell” a small smile met your lips

“Chocolate and parchment paper” the man’s hands rubbed up and down your arms comfortingly

“And now one thing you can taste”

“Blood” the man’s eyes widened as he saw the blood on your lip

“Oh Merlin here” he patted your lip down with a napkin

“ I have something to confess y/n” lupin sighed as he kneeled infront of you.

“I was the one who hurt you that night, I tried to fight it I wanted nothing more then you to be safe but he was stronger that night. I’m so sorry I couldn’t forgive my self” he wrapped his arms around you

“Wait. Your a lycanthrope?” She watched the teacher nod as he stood handing her a small box of chocolate

“Yes and I made a mistake on that night by forgetting to take my wolf's bane potion. And I never wanted to hurt you. You know that right?” he placed a large hand on the girls cheek

“Of course sir but does that mean I will be one as well?” A light blush tinted her cheeks as she smiled nervously

“No no, luckily the cut wasn't deep enough for you to get it but I don't think I would forgive myself if that happened” Remus sighed looking down

“Hey, I forgive you. I know you didn't do it on purpose and it's my fault for going out so late to paint” her small hands held his face as she spoke

“And I've got a cool scar that makes me look hotter as Mattheo says” she laughed

“Here I uh found this in the forest” he handed you the unfinished painting making you gasp

“Thank you so much sir” the girl hugged Remus tightly he wrapped her up in his arms placing a kiss on her head

“I will never hurt you ok?” The girl nodded still embraced in the hug

“come on then. If you have any questions at all just ask” Remus said as he helped her back to her desk she nodded as a response thanking him

#remus lupin x you #professor lupin x reader #professor lupin #remus lupin x yn #older remus lupin x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter #remu

[js-a-writer]

Tewksbury x fem!Reader I honestly dont mind if this is an angst oneshot, its completely up to you. If you want some more structure lmk and ill come up with some💜

Summary : *the request*

Warnings : just pure fluff

@nix-rose

*not proofread*

Tewksbury was taking a walk through the park he always go through, today he wasn't in any rush, as he had nothing iportnat he needed to do. He was sitting on a bench, just enjoying the scenery, when he noticed a girl, she had an easle in front of her and it appeared that she was painting something.

He saw other pieces of art scattered around her when he looked back at her, she quickly snapped her head back to the painting. He was curious but decided just to ignore it, seeing as he was a Lord now, and she might just be surprised so see him in the park around this time of day.

About an hour goes by, and Tewksbury noticed the girl staring at him more and more. She thought she was being sneeky, but much to her avail, she was not. He got suspicious, thinking 'what if she's going to kill me... maybe she's like the man in the brown bowler hat!' His suspicions were proved wrong when he snuck up behind the girl to see her painting him, sitting on the park bench.

She went to look over to the bench again, to see him not there. She looked at her surroundings, trying to find the young lord. Her long hair flowingas she did so. Tewksbury took notice of this and the way her face contorted into one of frustration and confusion as her eyes kept searching for him.

He hid behind he easle as she stood up to see if maybe he was coming back. But when she saw nothing, she sat back down and looked up to her easle, flinching and falling backwards off of her stool, as she screamed out in shock.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just curious as to what you were painting." he said in a calming tone, trying to seem less intimidating. He truly didn't mean to scare her he just wanted to see how far she would go to find him again.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault honestly." she spoke softly, almost like a whisper, as he saw her cheeks heat up in embarrasment. "Don't be embarrassed, it looks really good, it's almost like staringat a refelction of myself." he spoke trying to reassure her everything was fine.

"It's not finshed, I haven't finished the face." she said softly. Tewksbury could see the panic fade from her features but saw it twist up into somthing he though tto be sadness? HE couldn't make her sad, not on their first encounter. He wanted to see eachother more, and if he made her sad there was no way she would want to see him again.

So he ran, all the way back to the bench he had previouslybeen sitting at, in the same position he was sat in just before he had terrifieed the poor girl. "What are you doing?" sh easked curious as to why he would run all the way over there and pose the same. "Letting you finish your painting, you said you didn't finish the face, so finish it. You can't leave a portrait undone now can you?" he told her, wantnig to make her happy again.

So she did, she finsihed the painting, only about 25 minutes later, she was finally done and called him over. "So, what do you think?" she asked quite giddily he noticed. "It's wonderful, I must have this hung up in my castle, if I can take it." he sent a quizical look her way. "I think I quite like this one, maybe I want to keep it..... I'm only joking ofcourse you can have it." she said teasing him. "Great, how much do I owe you for it?" he asked ready to pay full of whatever price you named. "It's free, you can have it. It is a painting of you ofcourse, and I didn't really ask befoe starting it." she told him. "Nonsense, I must pay you.... Well atleast let me take you somewhere, I would like to spend more time with you if you would like that too?" he said when she shook her head, as to say, 'you don't have to pay for it'.

Sh eofcourse said yes, and he helped pack up her painting supplies so they could go somehwre else, somewhere more private. They ended up going to a meadow and her drawing more sketches of him and the field, as he wathed her with admiration in his eyes. They asked questions about eachother trying to learn different things about one another.

"Well I live in a cottage with my mother,, we live right down that pathway," she stated as she pointed to a pathway leading out of the meadow. "we're not very rich, but we make the most of it. It's just my mother and I, it always has been, and she works at the bakery she owns in town."

A few minutes go by and she stops talking to draw the daisies in the field again, as he once again admires her and her beauty. "Can I see your sketch book?" he asked. She handed it to him, he flips through the pages seeing pictures of him from today, and scenery from all over London. He was astonished. He saw mor epictures of things like flowers, and what he guessed was her mother.

"These are extraordinary, you have to publish these somewhere.You could make a fortune off of these." he suggested fasinated by her artwork. "They're not that good. I probably wouldn't sell anything, and even if I did, I have no where to sell and no way to get the word out." she tried dissmissing the suggestion convinsing herslef it would never work.

"You could sell them in the park, I could help. Not with the painting ofcourse but everything else." she obliged sayikng sh ecould try in a few days.

He looked at her again, admiring her beauty and everything else about her. He thought of how much he liked her, possibly even loved her! That couldn't be he's only known her but less than 24 hours, but it feels right, he loves her!

Meanwhile she thinks about how she's gotten to know more about him these past few hours,she had a feeling towards him but she couldn't quite label it just yet. They were both admiring eachother for a few moments longer before he blurted out, "Can I kiss you?" in the softest most love-sick tone he could have mustered.

He hesitated before going to appologise. But before he could she responded, not with words but with a chaste kiss, full of love and admiration. That's what that feeling love, she finally figured out what it was, it was love!

"I love you!" they both said in unison, giggling and sealing it with another kiss, more passionate this time. Knowing how they both had felt.

I guess you could say, this was love at first sight.

Thank you so kuch for this request @nix-rose I loved writing it and hope you love it just as kuch as I do.

Make sure to keep leaving requests and voting on polls. ⤵️

#viscount tewkesbury marquess of basilwether #viscount tewksbury x reader #viscount tewksbury #x reader #fem!reader

[disaster-j]

Bestie @magicaldreamfox1 said yes on my post about sharing a snippet so here's Buck and Eddie's first (official) meeting in the modern royalty arranged marriage au

~~~~

The first time Buck had seen King Edmundo Diaz The II he was all decked out in an expensive navy three-piece suit with tasteful gold accents that somehow made his whiskey eyes shine under the bright ballroom lights. He’d seemed so otherworldly- too handsome, too regal, too perfect -like something you can only ever admire from afar.

Tonight, as he leans casually on the back of the sofa and stares at Buck’s creepy portrait, he seems a lot more approachable. Still just as ethereal, no doubt, but more man than legend. He’s dressed just as casually as he stands, in a way that appears thoughtless but that Buck knows is intentional. The beige trousers paired with a solid black turtleneck would be a boring outfit on lesser men but the King makes it look as expensive as it must be.

Doesn’t help that the way the clothes fit the man leaves little to the imagination.

Buck stays hidden in his spot in the hallway for another minute to prepare himself for the night. Not to ogle the King’s perfectly sculpted ass, nope.

Ritesh had told him his parents had already greeted the royal party of two. The King was travelling light this week, with only his advisor joining them for dinner. He had a pair of guards that Buck knew had stationed themselves somewhere on the grounds but wherever that was they were out of sight.

His parents were in the library with Athena Grant, King Edmundo's infamously scary Advisor/Head of Security. They were probably going over the details of the visit and discussing the pros and cons of the courtship the King was about to initiate. Laying down ground rules that Buck would have to follow and ironing out what would be expected of him.

In the meantime, Buck had been asked to give the King a tour of the grounds while the grown-ups talked.

Not that he was calling the King a child. The man was in his thirties and single father to an adorable nine-year-old. Buck was the child in this scenario. The one who needed constant supervision and couldn’t be trusted to make choices for himself and had to be told exactly what to do at all times.

Perhaps he was still a little bit bitter about losing his hard-won freedom, after all.

Buck takes a deep breath and finally steps into the drawing room. The King turns to him almost instantly and whatever greeting Buck had been forced to memorise leaves him in a flurry when the man smiles at him. It’s so bright and warm Buck thinks one could easily confuse it for the sun.

“Evan! It’s good to see you again.”

He’s never liked his name but something about the way Edmundo Diaz says it makes Buck’s knees buckle a little bit. That’s gonna be nothing but trouble. He packs the feeling away somewhere deep inside his head where he won’t venture anytime soon and, instead, focuses on the other words that had flowed out of the King’s mouth like honey.

“I don’t believe we’ve met?”

Buck would’ve remembered meeting the King even if he wasn’t, you know, the fucking King. It would be hard to forget a man like that.

~~~~

This fic has taken over my life this past week so expect me to post the first chapter sometime this week 😌😌

#911 fox #911 #buddie #buddie fic #soooo hype about this fic it's been so fun to write so far aaaaaa

[arwenkenobi48]

I’ve decided to make my own rewrite of alternate Gabriel and put him in a new original story, in light of recent events

[Warning: long post]

Basically, Gabe (as he is now called) is the subject of a painting created by an artist who unknowingly has the power to bring his artwork to life. Gabe loved it when his creator called him the most beautiful thing he’d seen and when the artist moved on to other projects, the painted angel basically went mad with jealousy.

Breaking free from his canvas, Gabe began corrupting the artist’s other paintings, turning them into twisted, monstrous images. When the horrified artist saw what was happening, he decried Gabe as a monster. Heartbroken and furious that his creator rejected him, Gabe killed the man and used his blood to create a new painting; a portrait identical to his dead creator, one that would be eternally loyal to him.

Gabe’s second in command, simply known as Edward (an expy of Six/the Intruder), still retains the skills of an artist and the mysterious powers he possessed before his murder. He creates more disturbing minions for his master, all while passing them off as ‘horror art’.

The vast majority of these art pieces fall into the hands of an eccentric rich man named Zekiel Thomson, who adds them to his vast collection. This guy’s so rich he has his own private art gallery that he shows off to all his wealthy socialite friends. After installing the ‘horror art’, however, things begin to take a turn for the worse.

First, mysterious music is heard in the night; the sickly sweet sound of a harp and the operatic voice of an angel. The last person to awaken to its sound is found dead the next day, mutilated and - most disturbingly - with a significant amount of blood missing.

As more and more of these mysterious murders unfold, Zekiel is plagued by nightmares in which Gabe’s demonic underlings are tormenting him. He resorts to hiring a detective named Vincent Truman, who’s something of a theology/occult enthusiast.

The main framing sequence of the story is told through Vincent’s notes on the case, as he goes from being sceptical of Zekiel’s credibility to finding himself in a tangled web of mass murder and blood magic, to standing face to face with the devil himself, The Painted Angel, Gabe.

I haven’t yet decided on a title for this story, but I quite like the sound of The Painted Angel. The Peculiar Case of Zekiel Thomson is another potential title, although it is a little wordy.

Also I decided to set the whole thing in England bc that’s a pretty good place for haunted paintings and unexplained phenomena. Adds a gothic feel to the whole thing too.

Kinda toying with the idea of frequently switching between different POVs between chapters but I don’t want it to get confusing. I guess that once I have the entire story mapped out it should be fine.

There’s going to be recurring themes of facing one’s inner demons, unprocessed trauma and self worth. Elements of the horror game Layers of Fear, an old Victorian story titled The New Mother, Skinamarink and Motion Picture Soundtrack by Radiohead are also going to be worked into the project.

I haven’t yet decided if this is going to be a straight up novel or a comic yet. My ability to draw is…inconsistent at best. I feel like the story might work better with some accompanying visuals, though.

But yeah that’s my thoughts so far. I have had bits and pieces of this project in my drafts for a while but I had no idea what to do with it. I think this could probably tie it all together.

Now I need to get some sleep bc I am exhausted. Lmk what you think of this idea and feel free to suggest any potential titles.

#arwen speaks #writing #creative writing #horror writing #horror project #alt!gabriel #oc: Zekiel #oc: Vincent Truman #gothic horror #supernatural horror #oc: Gabe #horror concept #fuck alex kister #gabe’s mine now

[biasedwriting]

the finest gossamer [VIXX, Leo] M

Characters : VIXX's Leo / OC

Regency! AU

Rating : M for smut

Plot summary - Taekwoon spends an afternoon with his wife in the sunroom.

It was a relatively peaceful afternoon, Taekwoon mused, watching Minah patter about the sunroom, sealing a letter to Haneul, who was now touring the highlands with Wonshik. The room was a little one with a teak writing desk overflowing with papers - letters, he assumed, knowing his wife’s propensity for words both written and spoken (which both vexed and delighted him no end). He eyed his wife blowing out the candle on her desk before stacking the carefully sealed letters into the pigeon-hole cubby above the table. He smiled, amused by her ink-stained fingers and the grumbling that followed as she dabbed at her fingertips with an equally stained handkerchief.

Leaning against the door frame, the man crossed his arms. Despite how busy his viscountcy made him, he tried not to miss out on the domesticity of these moments. To him, Minah was a wonder to be beheld in her natural habitat, in complete comfort with her surroundings. Which was exactly why he found himself hurrying home after a session at the parliament to gaze at his wife. He bit his lip to hold back the laughter that bubbled up his throat when she began humming, floating over to the window to fix the sunflowers held in a pale blue porcelain vase before gently unlatching the windows to allow some air in.

Taekwoon took a silent step into the little sunroom of his house in the capital. Decorated to the tastes of the lady so lost in her thoughts by the window, he couldn’t help but feel surrounded by her presence in the room. From the bookshelf in the corner overflowing with titles she enjoyed (and he enjoyed gifting her with) to the little portrait of the two of them perched on the mantle, or the small turtle-shaped paperweights she had bought on a whim and vehemently placed on the table by the deep green high backed chair he was standing by, the sunroom was secretly Taekwoon’s favourite place in the house because it just was, Minah.

The summer sun streamed through the translucent curtains illuminating his wife’s body draped in the finest muslin he could adorn her in. The rays caressed her face illuminating the lighter shades of brown in the soft ringlets of her hair kissing the tops of her collarbones. Her deep lashes threw shadows on her rounded cheeks that he loved pressing his lips against. Her countenance was blank and blissful in the sunlight as the summer breeze wound its way into the room. The man's eyes roved over her face with delight before his throat went dry at the sight of the thin muslin barely concealing the pebbled buds of her …

“Taekwoon!” A gasp broke his reverie as she spun around, finally aware of his gaze “How long have you been waiting there?” She asked, crossing her arms, immediately obscuring his vision while she hurried to the lace shawl thrown on over the back of her chair to wrap it around her shoulders.

“Not too long,” her husband mused, frowning at the offending piece of cloth as she rang the bell to call for tea before ushering him to the high-backed chair.

“I know you said you'd be back for tea, but Haneul had written such an exciting letter I just couldn't wait to write back and then I completely lost track of time! ” She began pacing around the room, ears red as her husband watched with an amused smile. “She said I'd love the cattle in the highlands, darling large coos! Oh, where is Jeffery?” Minah wondered out loud only to have the stately servant hurry in with the tea service. “Fantastic! Dearest, Haneul sent us shortbread along with her letter, I made sure Jeffery would bring some with tea” Minah continued while Jeffery set the service on the little table before Taekwoon raised his hand to wave the man away.

“That will be all, Jeffery, ensure we're not disturbed,” he said before turning back to his wife who frowned in confusion. The servant left the room, closing the door behind him and Minah reached for the kettle to pour out the tea cautiously.

“Is everything alright?” 

Taekwoon received the cup and saucer from her, eyeing her struggle to keep the shawl on her shoulders. Taking a deep sip, secretly scalding himself, he turned to set down the cup and reach across and yank the foolish fabric out of her grasp. 

“Yes, everything is fine,” he hummed as she tried to reach for the shawl again only to have it held far away from her. The more she leaned forward, the greater Taekwoon's delight grew as he stared unabashedly at his wife's unadorned skin which he knew from experience would feel like cream in his palms.

“Give it back!” She huffed, now getting to her feet and stepping closer to him, unaware of the trap her husband was setting for her. “You're vexing me Lord Jung Taekwoon!”

“Oh? Is that so?” He chuckled, holding the shawl behind his back and quickly grabbing her wrist as she reached for it, tugging her onto his lap. Her foot hit the little table between the two high-backed chairs making the tea service rattle.

“I honestly thought something had happened during the parliamentary session, now I see Viscount Jung Taekwoon wants to play games,” Minah grumbled, still trying to reach for her shawl “Now unhand my shawl or the tea will get cold.”

“What if I say no?” Taekwoon replied, tucking the silly fabric firmly behind his back while his other hand went to support his wife's derriere, giving it a quick squeeze.

“You're being naughty,” she glared at the taller man, tugging at his deep brown coat. 

“That I am,” he said, eyes fixed on her flushed skin, beaded buds now taught against the thin muslin, all he had to do was lean forward and…

Teeth sunk into his right earlobe gently as Minah gave it a quick nibble, sending blood rushing to his breeches. Minah quickly tried to retrieve her shawl which was firmly wedged between the back of the chair and her husband's broad back only to have him grasp at her jaw and fix his eyes on hers. She shivered, noticing his dilated pupils as he leaned up to join their lips. Remembering her initial mission, she turned her head away to look for the shawl only to feel his long fingers slip up to cup the back of her neck and guide her lips to his for a gentle kiss. 

“Open your mouth, darling,” he whispered against her lips, pulling her firmly over his lap by the derriere making her gasp, feeling his need for her. Sliding his tongue past her parted lips he savoured her like a delicacy, now feeling her ink-stained fingers sliding into the strands of his hair making him grunt as he chased after her lips before breathlessly trailing kisses down her throat as soft whimpered breaths gurgled past her swollen lips. 

Minah grasped firmly onto her husband's broad shoulders, the lace shawl long forgotten in his onslaught. Taekwoon's long graceful fingers slid the thin gown up her calves, pausing to fiddle with the garters holding her whisper-thin stockings to her body. She giggled at how ticklish it felt at first but threw her head back with a hiss when his lips surrounded her clothed nipple. 

“Ah, Taekwoon,” she whimpered into his hair as his fingers pianoed across her thighs caressing the skin 

“You're so soft, my love,” he mumbled against the now wet fabric before turning to the other achingly painful nipple awaiting his attention. His fingers played a wicked tune on the wet thatch of hair between her thighs as she gasped at the sensation of his index finger sliding over a throbbing bud of nerves over and over again till she gazed at him pleadingly with her mouth open and no words.

“What's that?” He hummed, speeding up his pace as his middle finger joined in to thoroughly stimulate her. 

She finally let out a moan of his name, gripping at the shirt under his coat, nearly ripping it wide open. Slumping forward, she leaned on his shoulders and breathed out his name, pressing open-mouthed kisses beneath it in a way that had the little string of sanity holding him together snap. 

Then he sank two of his fingers into her and set a quick rhythm that had her jolting pawing at the cravat and undoing his buttons to splay her fingers across his chest feeling his heart thud beneath her palm. Every touch had her hips moving frantically on his two fingers, pressing against the swelling bulge in her husband's breeches. She reached down to undo his bottoms grabbing at the now erect, throbbing organ with both hands making him rest his forehead against her chest with a groan.

“Minah,” he exhaled, curving his fingers within her making her squeeze around them as her hands came to a halt. She fixed her glazed-over eyes on her handsome husband, before reaching to tug his wrist away from her sopping core. There was a fire in her eyes that made Taekwoon feel like a man parched as he leaned up to tangle his tongue with hers. Her grip returned to his erection, firmly stroking till he moaned into her hungry lips.. Gently positioning her hips over his desire, she carefully lowered herself onto him and he scrambled to grasp her buttocks to support her ever-tightening descent. 

“Minah, please,” he whispered groaning when she rolled her hips.

“You started this Taekwoon,” she hissed, gripping at the lapels of his very crumpled shirt.  He eyed her as she lifted her hips and dropped them, tightening on her way down. Her gown was now clinging to her body with the sweat of her exertion as she frowned, scrabbling to rip the offending garment over the head and tossing it to the ground before moving in earnest while Taekwoon could only watch the majesty of his wife's form in the summer sunshine. Groaning, he gripped her hips thrusting up and watching her head fall back in pleasure. When his wife whined, rocking her hips to take him in deeper, he couldn’t help but oblige by picking up the pace till she shook above him, scrabbling at his chest, leaving streaks of red with her blunt nails. Panting at how impossibly tight she was getting around him, Taekwoon laced his fingers with hers thrusting up powerfully, emptying into her and keeping the pace till she spasmed along with him.

Pulling her towards his chest, he held his wife’s naked form, caressing her side as she took deep gasping breaths. 

“You’re a wicked wicked man,” she mumbled against his now sweaty chest. Taekwoon looked down and tipped her head up to capture her lips in another chaste kiss.

#leo #kpop #vixx #kpopfanfic #kpop fanfiction #jungtaekwoon #jungleo #jung taekwoon #vixx smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop fic #vixx scenarios #vixx leo #taekwoon

[fan-fantasies]

Love Notes

Inspired by this post by @loveronlineee

It was such a sweet piece and it reminded me of Breezy and how I’ve always been jealous of her artistic abilities and anyone else who can draw/paint/sculpt/anything art related. Not that writing isn’t art! We paint beautiful pictures in readers’ minds with just words but something about drawing has always captivated me and eluded me. So please enjoy this fic from my very jealous point of view!

Pairing: Eddie x writer!reader

Warnings: jealousy and terrible poetry! I promise I’m a good poet I’m just rusty 😂😂

Why is he so pretty?

Why doesn’t he smile at me like that?

Maybe he would if you actually talked to him.

Yeah that’ll never happen.

Man, do I have to stop talking to myself.

You shook yourself from your thoughts and came back to reality. You tried your best to focus on your poorly drawn sketch in front of you but laughter from the back corner kept stealing your attention.

Eddie and Brianna sat in the back row, chatting and laughing away. You could see her drawing from your seat and you were blown away by her talent. She was an amazing artist and you were secretly envious of her talent. You struggled to draw a simple flower or stick figure, let alone a full portrait of someone.

Your partner was out for the day so you had nothing but time to sit and be jealous. You pulled out your notebook and favorite pen and began to write.

Writing was your choice of artistic medium. Maybe it wasn’t so much a choice as a calling, but you were able to paint colorful pictures with nothing but black and white words. Or at least that’s what your eighth grade English teacher had told you when she boasted to your parents about your latest story at your annual parent teacher meeting.

You began to scribble a few words here and there but before you knew it you were writing with a certain fluffy haired boy in mind.

Meet me at the corner

Of your dreams and mine

We’ll walk hand in hand

With nothing but time

I’ll tell you my worries

You’ll tell me your fears

Your skin will brush mine

Wiping my tears.

And that’s where we’ll part

At the end of the night,

Leaving our story

In darkened starlight

You looked back at Eddie who was studying his portrait with awe. You wished he’d look at you like that.

Maybe he could. Maybe not at you but maybe your writing.

You looked down at your poem and had a gutsy thought.

You excused yourself to the bathroom but made a beeline to the lockers instead. You knew Eddie’s locker, across and three down from your own. You slipped the folded up piece of paper into it before you could change your mind.

You raced back to class, having only a few minutes left before it got out. Eddie and Brianna were still chatting in the back but his eyes flickered to yours for a second when you walked in.

No more than a few minutes later did the bell ring and you bolted from the room again. You threw your books in your locker and waited for Eddie. He sauntered over to his not long after and as soon as he opened it up the paper fell out.

He looked around, confused, before picking it up. His eyes scanned the words and you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.

He folded the paper back up and put it in his jacket pocket, closed his locker and walked away with a big smile on his face. Seeing how happy he was made your heart swell knowing that you were the cause- even if he didn’t.

The next note was delivered a week later. A sweet little poem about luscious hair and passion-filled eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the blush that crept onto his face when he read it.

Your little surprises continued on for the next few weeks and you decided to leave the notes in his locker after school, worried he might catch you one day out of class. You left them on days you knew he had his Hellfire Club meetings, hoping he’d check his locker at the end, taking home your sweet musings.

Eddie did happen to check after a meeting one night, the little note falling out. His heart began to race which was a common occurrence whenever he read the poems.

He thought they were incredibly sweet and couldn’t believe someone thought that way about it. Which is why, at first, he thought it was some sort of prank. After a few more notes, however, he figured no one would draw out a joke for so long.

He had tried waiting by his locker after school, but you always waited longer. You had a part time job in the library after school so you were there later than everyone else anyway.

Your poems were Eddie’s little escape from the normal bullshit of Hawkins High. One day during lunch, he and Jason got into a pretty bad fight, nasty insults being thrown both ways. You knew that Eddie only acted tough but enough torture would break anyone down eventually. Your poem was a little sad that day, but you hoped he would still appreciate it.

And appreciate it, he did. He read it over and over again before holding it tightly to his chest.

How could I not admire you?

From the confidence that drips like venom from your lips

to the fearless attitude that you convey.

I know the exterior has hardened from time- a carefree boy that’s been hidden away.

And your boisterous voice is not chance, but a choice

To show people around you that you’re not afraid

Just know that we’re all trying to figure it out-

How to get out of this sad world unscathed.

You are not alone.

He almost started to tear up when he read it, feeling vulnerable that someone could see through his tough exterior.

The next day in English, everyone had to read their short story in front of the class. Public speaking was never your strong suit but you tried your best to just focus on the story in front of you. Your hands were shaking and it was hard to take a deep breath. You looked up and saw that no one was really paying attention which helped ease your nerves. Even Eddie, in the back row of course, was doodling in his notebook.

You began your story about a young woman, a fallen Angel, hellbent on revenge. She was a badass, confident warrior- very much your opposite.

A few people began to really listen, enthralled by your words. Eddie was half listening, too busy with his new hellfire logo design.

“-and the words dripped from her lips like venom, poisoning the hearts of those around her-“

Eddie’s head shot up. Did you just say almost the exact same thing that was in the poem? Maybe it was a coincidence? Probably not, who else would write something like that?

He listened closer to your words, noticing a certain similarity to the rhythm and style in which you wrote. His heart began to beat faster and his palms got sweaty.

You finished your story and nervously looked up at the room, fidgeting in front of everyone’s stare. They began lightly clapping at the instruction of your teacher. Eddie clapped the loudest which made you look back at him. His eyes didn’t break from your gaze which made your stomach do a flip.

Eddie continued to stare at the back of your head for the rest of the class. Afterward, he rushed to lunch so he could talk to his friends.

“Guys, I think I figured out who’s been leaving me notes,” he said as soon as he sat down. Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He tried to nonchalantly look over at you and motioned with a slight nod of his head. Everyone turned at once, making him roll his eyes.

“(y/n)? The crazy amazing writer that’s won like every writing contest there ever was? She’s leaving you love notes?” Mike asked.

“You know her?” Eddie asked, almost sounding desperate.

“Uh, kinda? She helps Nancy out with the paper every once in a while. She even had dinner at our house once,” he remembered.

“She’s super nice,” Gareth added.

“How do you know her?” Eddie questioned.

“She was my partner on a history project once. She did most of the work thankfully. That’s probably the only time I got an A in history,” he chuckled.

“Am I the only person who doesn’t know her?” Eddie sighed.

“And yet, you’re the only one she’s leaving love notes for,” Dustin purred.

“Well we don’t know that. She could be leaving them for twenty different guys- you know- casting a wide net,” Lucas said. Everyone glared at him.

“Thanks, buddy, that really helps,” Eddie mumbled.

Eddie looked over at you and admired you. How had he not noticed you before? Especially since you seemed to have noticed him quite a bit. He wanted to get to know you, but first, he had to make sure it was actually you leaving the poems.

“Would you guys be okay with switching the meeting to Thursday night instead of Tuesday next week?” He asked.

“I guess?”

“Why?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Please tell me you’re not gonna stalk that poor girl,” Dustin sighed. Eddie smirked at his friends and clapped his hands together.

“Guys, I’m gonna get me a girlfriend. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“If you say so.”

Everyone went back to their lunch and talking about their next campaign. Eddie could hardly focus; he was too excited for the upcoming week.

You finished cleaning up the library and, like every other Tuesday night, you went to put a poem in Eddie’s locker. You slipped it in easily enough and headed down the hall toward the parking lot. You rounded the corner and crashed into a somebody. Your scream of surprise quickly turned into an awkward spilling of apologies.

You finally looked to see who it was, your heart nearly stopping when you saw Eddie’s smirking face looking back at you. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking as calm as ever.

“Hey, (y/n),” he said with a smile.

“H-hi, Eddie,” you squeaked. You tried to move around him but he stepped in front of you.

“You’re here late.”

“Um, yeah, I work in the library after school,” you said. “I should be getting home.”

You hadn’t planned on running into Eddie and you very much wanted the interaction to end. You weren’t prepared for this to happen and you didn’t know what to say. He would probably figure out that you were the ones leaving notes if he went to go check his locker. He would be smart enough to put the pieces together.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? We never get the chance to talk.”

“We do get the chance, we just never do,” you shrugged.

“And why is that? Because words would drip like venom from your lips?” He asked. Eddie chewed on his nails nervously, hoping you’d catch on.

“M-my story? You liked it?” You hoped that’s all he was talking about.

“Your story was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I’m more of a poetry guy myself,” he spoke, slowly taking a step toward you.

“I-is that so?”

“Yeah! In fact, I’ve recently found my new favorite.” He took another step toward you and was pleased when you didn’t move away. “Were you ever gonna tell me it was you?”

You contemplated lying, but it seems that he already figured it out. You cursed yourself for using the exact same line from the story in your poem.

“Probably not,” you said honestly. He frowned a little bit.

“Why not? Do you not want to talk to me? Because I can go and we can forget this ever happened.” Maybe he misjudged the situation. Maybe it was a joke or maybe you left secret notes so no one would know you liked the freak. You could see the doubt creeping onto his face and it broke your heart.

“No, I do want to talk to you! I just…I don’t really know how. And I figured you didn’t want to talk to me so…I just wrote instead,” you mumbled.

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you? You seem pretty damn amazing,” he laughed softly.

“I’m not amazing. I’m not a crazy talented artist or some hot cheerleader. I’m just me.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s kinda what I like about you. You’re not a fake asshole like almost everyone else here. You just keep to yourself and do your own thing,” he said.

He grabbed your hand and tugged to get you to look at him. Your eyes had fallen to your shoes, hating when you’d let your insecurities show.

“Can I take you on a date?” He asked. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’d really like that Eddie,” you finally smiled. A wide grin broke out on his face.

“On one condition though.” You smile faltered and you raised your eyebrow. “You have to keep writing me poems.”

“I think I can do that,” you laughed. Eddie leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. He intertwined his fingers with yours and led you from the school, walking you to your car with the promise of picking you up for your date on Friday night.

Maybe being a writer isn’t so bad after all.

———————————

Taglist: @mellomadness @thebookbakery @dootys @munsaniac @tiredwritersworld @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @rafecameronswhore

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #stranger things

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

Muse -S.F.K

Author's Note: Wow, what a labor of love and anger this story has been for me. I took a bit of a break because holy shit life got real and crazy but it’s here! I wanna thank all of the Gresties that helped proof read this and also for their words of encouragement and support to help me get through writing this story @maverick-rose and @builtbymachine @jake-kiszkas-smirk I ended up really loving this story and I really hope you do too.

This is the 3 out of 4 of installment of my Royalty Series, go check out Whiplash J.M.K and Shining Armor D.R.W to read more of the Royalty Series (its not a connected series, but they are all period pieces!)

Synopsis: When you meet an artist that sweeps you off of your feet, you go to great lengths just to see the beautiful commoner again.

Word Count: 7.1K (it took 2 months it's gonna be long lol)

Pairing: Commoner!Sam x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Foul language, oral, slight voyeurism, light dom/sub (if you squint), raw sex (Wrap it before you tap your royal painter)

Muse -S.F.K

“There's just something not quite right.” You say, staring at the portrait before you, your father, the king, standing beside you, tea cup in hand as he admires the painting. “I just can’t put my finger on it…” You say, stepping closer to the canvas, hand touching quizzically over your face as you search your own portrait.

“I think it looks splendid, darling.” Your father chimes in, probably just trying to put your critical mind at ease. “I think it’s my nose? And my hair, I think the shading of it is a bit too light, and my hair doesn’t part that way, it’s more centered than that. I also think he forgot the freckle on my-” “This is the third painting you’ve requested be redone! Let that poor artist be done with it already.” Your father interrupts, making his way over to the table in the brightly lit tea room of the palace, searching for the perfect lemon tart. The elegant tea room was lit brightly by the afternoon sun from the floor to ceiling windows with long white flowing curtains that nearly make up the entire back wall overlooking the rose garden below. A table is set with many tea cakes, scones, seasonal pitted fruit and finger sandwiches, all for your afternoon tea, which had been a lovely time until one of the footmen had brought up your newly redone royal portrait. 

“It just has to be perfect. This is going to be the portrait that is to hang in the halls alongside our entire family line. Forgive me for wanting it to actually have my likeness.” You justify, crossing your arms agitatedly, eyes never leaving the portrait. “Shall I call for another painter? This one doesn’t seem to be the right fit-” “No!” You snap, your father looks confused as he stands frozen, dainty lemon tart in hand. You think quickly, worried your awkward response has given you away. “I mean, I like his art style, and I don’t want to audition another artist when we’re already so close to having a perfect portrait. I’ll just be sure to give him my notes for a better one, besides, I have a better dress to wear than this last one, not quite sure this one suits me.” You explain, eyes scanning the oil paints that make up your face. “If you insist. I’ll send for him tomorrow.” Your father relents with a shrug, you attempt to hide the smile behind your hand as you look over the brush strokes on the large canvas, admiring the smallest details. 

In all honesty, the portrait was perfect, in every way. The curl of your smile, the tinge of blush in your cheeks, the color of your eyes, it was all perfect. It had been perfect all three times. But you couldn't stop thinking of the painter himself, Sam. You hadn’t stopped thinking of that man since you laid eyes on him, a man with beautiful long hair, deep brown eyes and a stare that lit you absolutely ablaze. The way he would look at you while he painted, adjusting your pose ever so gently, his words soft, patient and full of praise as he worked, the only problem was that your time together was so limited. Sure it was hours at a time, but once he finished your portrait he would be gone, sending it to the palace once all the background portions were complete and he would be gone, so, you found yourself criticizing the smallest details for the sake of his company. You had to admit, you were enamored with his presence, but surely, he must think you frustrating by now, this was to be your fourth portrait, and you would be more than happy to hang any of the previous three alongside the rest of the royal families portraits that lined the halls, but something about Sam made you feel something different, a feeling you couldn’t quite pin down. One thing you knew for certain, tomorrow was going to be your last session. 

The anxiety to see the artist again has had your stomach in knots since tea time yesterday. Now here you are, desperately searching for the perfect gown for your portrait. You ask your ladies maids to find you your most elegant dresses, opting for a look that is regal and refined. After several displays of satin, silk and lace, you cannot help but be swept away by a deep crimson gown. Large sleeves that fall off your shoulders, lace that sweeps the edge of the fabric around the sleeves and your chest, tight in the waist and a grand skirt that is sure to impress. This is how you want to be remembered, both in your portrait and by the artist, utterly dripping in finery. Your hair is halfway swept up and pinned back to show off your bone structure and a fine diamond necklace graces your skin, along with dangling diamond earrings to complete the set.

A knock upon your bedchamber door brings you out of your daydreams, pulling you back into your anxious state of impatience, “The artist has arrived, your highness.” One of your many maids informs you upon her entrance. You give yourself one last glance into the mirror, “Let’s not keep him waiting then, shall we?” You respond with a smile.

The only sound besides your heels carrying you down the shining marble floors through the palace is the sound of your heartbeat slamming in your ears. You roll your eyes as you think, All this over a man? Now really. You scoff to yourself, taking in a deep breath as you make your way down the final hallway into the drawing room. Pausing just before entering to make any last adjustments to your hair and dress, you give your escorts a nod as they open the doors, “Her royal highness.” One of your personal guards announces your presence as you enter. Sam stands quickly from his stool by his easel.

The air is thick with a heavy pause as the two of you meet eyes from across the room. He looks even more beautiful than you remember, his hair is pulled back by the help of a dark blue ribbon loosely keeping his hair mostly out of his way, save for some strands that fall in front of his face just so. His deep brown eyes look wide and almost caught off guard, nervous perhaps? He’s dressed in a modest navy blue double vest that looks almost homemade and a high collared white shirt, his breeches tucked into boots that look like they’ve seen better days. Oh to be absolutely breath taken by a commoner of all things.

“Your majesty.” Sam speaks softly as he bows to you deeply, hand over his heart and all. You give him a deep curtsey to him in return with a gentle smile as the doors finally close, leaving the two of you alone. “I was surprised you had sent for me.” Sam says, “I am sorry to bother you once more-” “No, no your highness, I did not mean to offend, I am glad to see you again, it’s just that I was told there was something wrong with your portrait, that is what had taken me by surprise.” He explains quickly, hands wringing anxiously. “I hope I didn’t worry you too much, you’re a delightful painter, Sam. I just didn't care for the gown I had chosen to wear for my portrait. I wanted something more elegant, I suppose.” You reply with a smile, bringing the attention to the crimson fabric running under your fingertips as you smooth out the fabric. “It is quite a lovely dress…” Sam utters to himself as he takes in your silhouette, taking in your shape as he begins to plot out your portrait in his mind. 

“Shall we get started then?” Sam asks with a smile, you only respond with a timid nod. “Wonderful. Let me place you over here then.” Sam says as he offers you his hand to escort you towards the large white cloth backdrop, you wince at the fact that he must have painstakingly set all of this up alone, for the third time. The room is well lit by the afternoon sun that is coming through the windows and bouncing off of the marble floors that almost work like a mirror the way it helps to light up the room. The high ceilings and quiet of the palace makes this moment feel even more intense. His hand is gentle as he brings you to stand in the center of the backdrop, he gives your jewel covered hand a soft squeeze as he lets go. “Now stand tall for me,” He instructs kindly as he sets a hand on the small of your back to adjust your posture, “Pardon my touch, madam.” He smiles gentlemanly as he’s always said before touching you. It's killing you not to think of his large and talented hands on you as he continues to pose you in such a particular way. 

“Face your body more towards the wall to the left,” His hand shifts along your waist to aid in turning you, sure he did this dance last time, and the time before, but it’s just so sweet the way he moves you. Sam doesn’t meet your eyes as he works to situate you, too busy with the way your dress is laying just the right way and adjusting your frame. You watch his face intently, relishing in his touches and the way his face contorts in concentration, it's incredibly interesting to watch. 

You nearly jump when his eyes catch yours as he fixes the hem of your dress, those beautiful golden brown eyes make you lose your breath. He gives you a soft smile as he notices your gaze, “Is this alright?” He asks as he takes a step away to take in the view of you as he’s posed you. “Perfect.” You smile as he gives you one last look of approval before walking to his easel. “Gorgeous.” He smiles, his voice soft, almost as though he’s unsure you are even allowed to hear it, you try to keep your expression neutral as he has requested but his compliment makes a grin grow upon your face. He begins to gather his paint palette and brush, his eyes flitting up to you every chance he can, as though he's afraid to spook you, like a deer in the forest, you might move or disappear. "Let's begin, shall we?" Sam says kindly as he begins to blend a few colors together. 

You know you're not meant to be looking right at him but you can't help yourself, with the amount of time you spend standing completely still, your boredom, mostly your curiosity, gets the better of you. You cannot help yourself the way the faces of the artist's concentration makes you feel. The way his brows knit together, his lips purse, his teeth sink into his bottom lip, the way his eyes light up when it's all coming together on the canvas. You've watched him for so long over these past sessions, you wouldn't be surprised if you were able to paint him from memory. 

His eyes meet yours and you can't help but smile, "You can speak if you like. Nothing worse than hours of silence, especially with someone as interesting as yourself." Sam says softly, his eyes hardly leaving the painting in progress. "Oh, I didn't want to distract you-" "I've painted you three times in a row now, your Highness, I think I could have painted your portrait with my eyes closed." He interrupts, looking up with a smirk. His candor takes you by surprise. His smile drops, he stands straight, stopping his brush strokes. "I-I’m sorry, that was incredibly rude of me-" 

"Really, it's fine." You respond with a timid smile, "I don't mean to be so particular-" "No, madam of course you can be! It is to be your royal portrait, I shouldn't have said something so snarky, it wasn't my intention." He apologizes softly, a brief pause falls on the room. 

"I like the way you speak your mind. People tip toe around me all the time. Makes me feel like no one feels comfortable enough to say what they think. Like I'm some porcelain doll in need of protecting." You explain, watching Sam as he gives you a genuine smile of relief. "I bet that gets very tiresome, madam." He says kindly, his paintbrush softly brushing over the canvas fills the silence. "Sometimes I feel like no one really sees me, I don't know if that makes sense. It's just, I feel as though they only see the title and the crown. They don't see-" "The woman underneath?" Sam finishes for you. You're struck for a moment at his words, the way he's perfectly figured it out, stolen the thought out of your own mind. 

"Exactly." You say almost silently, he gives you a small smile as he continues to paint. He stops once more, "May I speak freely, madam?" Sam asks, more sure of himself than you would have imagined. "Of course." You answer, nervous of what he could mean. "As a commoner painter, I've had lots of experience with many highly refined people. I like to think that with the time I get to watch them for hours during sessions, I feel like I get to see them as they really are, more than any other outsider or even any of their peers would. An experience I'm most thankful for. But, with you, I get such an air of decency, more than just that, but, a genuine kindness. I feel that even if I weren’t here to paint your portrait you would still be kind and true, it seems just a part of your nature.” Sam’s words take you by surprise, no one has ever said anything like this to you in your life. 

“You’re a joy to paint. I’m sorry it has taken me this many times to get your portrait right, but I never mind getting sent for if it means I get to see you again.” He finishes with a shy smile, a look that is making this whole secret plot of yours of having him come to paint your portrait just for your own pleasure makes his whole analysis of you seem like a farce. This confession makes you feel almost sickened with guilt, so much so that it's bubbling over inside you. You must tell him. 

“Oh, Sam.” You sigh, your face dropping with shame. You drop your pose entirely and look at the artist, he looks worried at your sudden shift in mood, worried that he somehow must have upset you. “I’m afraid I haven’t been truthful with you.” You begin, Sam lets his brush and pallet relax at his sides, “How do you mean?” He asks anxiously. You search the ceiling as you try to form the words, heart racing in your chest as you look to find the right thing to say. 

“There was never a problem with my portrait. The first or the second.” You start as you look to gauge his reaction, a flash of confusion coming over his features. You toy with the crimson material of your dress between your nervous fingers as you find the backbone to continue. 

“The portrait was perfect, in every single way. In a way I’ve never been captured before in all of my life.”

“Then why ask me to come back?” He asks quietly, his brows knit in a look of befuddlement. You let out a pitiful laugh. 

“Because I wanted to see you again.” You say defeatedly. 

The silence of the room is almost painful as Sam’s eyes fall away from yours. You have to clench your jaw just to keep yourself from speaking anymore, worried you’ve already said too much. Sam lets out a little laugh as he sets his pallet down on the small table beside him, running his hand over his mouth, trying to suppress a smile that only makes you more concerned. He eyes one of the large windows, watching as the afternoon sun begins to set. “Why on earth would you want to see me again?” He asks you quizzically, you curse yourself at his question, why did he have to ask that?!

“I, uh, I enjoy your company.” You lie nervously, your fingers tightening their grip on your gown once more. “My company?” He asks with a smirk. “Yes. I enjoy talking to you.” You reply, digging a deeper and deeper hole for yourself. 

Sam sets his brush down, “Why didn’t you just ask me for tea?” He asks, “If it's just my company you enjoy, I’m sure we could chat much more that way.” He pushes slyly. You can feel it, the not so obvious feeling that he sees completely through your excuses. “I-” You start, stopping as soon as you realize there is no decent way to say this confession of yours. Sam looks as though he’s leaning on the edge of his metaphorical seat as you search for the guts to speak. 

“I like the way you look at me. The way you speak to me this way. To be alone with no guard over my shoulder and-”

“Yes?” Sam interrupts as he walks to the side of his eisel, fully visible in all of his painful beauty. The sound of agonizing silence is almost too much to bear, threatening to crush both of you, if you aren’t strangled by your own lungs that have seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

“And, I like the way your hands feel when you touch me.” You respond so faintly you almost pray he didn’t hear you, but the way he lifts his eyebrows tells you he most certainly did. “Like you said, it feels good to be seen.” You repeat his own words back, hoping you didn’t just completely embarrass yourself. It feels almost like you are staring at the blade of a sword, waiting for it to either cut you in two or to spare you as you await Sam’s response. 

He puts his hands behind his back as he walks towards you, slowly moving closer as his eyes scan you over. 

“Oh your Highness…” 

“I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you-” 

“Don’t speak.” Sam softly commands, your heart is beating almost deftly in your ears you half wonder if he can hear it. “I’m glad you asked to see me once more.” He says kindly, you take a shallow breath to prepare yourself for the inevitable rejection. “Do you think of me often?” He asks with a subtle tilt of his head, a glimmer in his eye makes your knees weak. You search rapidly for the words to speak, not expecting him to ask you such a question. “Be honest, your Highness. No more secrets.” He grins, your mouth is dry with nervousness. “I do.” You answer, your voice shaking as he steps closer to you. “What do you think about, madam?” His tone is almost a taunt, but his tone is deeper than before, his question swirls in your ears and you blush as you begin to imagine all of the fantasies that have passed through your day dreams.

“More than just having my portrait painted.” You answer meekly as you look up at him through your lashes, he is so close now. Sam lifts his chin up as he understands your implications, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Mmm, is that right?” He rasps as he scans your reddened cheeks. “Well, you did ask for your portrait to be painted and we have so much time, we’ve hardly just begun.” Sam smirks with a darkened expression that makes you swallow hard. “May I reposition you, Your Grace? I think I have been inspired to go in a bit of a different direction.” He asks, a look of mischief in his eyes only spurs you on. 

“Y-Yes.” You manage, he gives you a smile as he brings his hand to your chin. He lifts your chin to meet his eyes, “Good girl.” He whispers and you have to do everything in your power to keep from sighing at his words that just went straight to your core. 

Sam withdraws his hand, opting to move to your waist, his large warm hands feel so good even through the heavy gown. His hands land on the front facing laces of the corset of your dress, his fingers finding the strings. “I do adore this dress on you, but I think I would much prefer to paint you without it.” He rasps, your lips part at his admission. You can’t find the words to say. Instead, you bring your own hands to hold his, the two of you watching intently as you assist him in pulling them undone. 

You let the dress fall to the ground around you, leaving you in only your chemise dressing gown. The sound of the heavy material falling to the floor leaves the two of you in a beautifully thick silence, full of a tension that makes your whole body feel alive. The two of your eyes meet, Sam looks in awe of you, your silhouette nearly visible through the thin white fabric, your hardened nipples ghosting under the cotton, the light from the setting golden sun exposing you. “Perfect.” He whispers. 

Taking a step away, Sam turns to bring over a wooden stool from his station, setting it beside you. “Take a seat.” He instructs. You sit down cautiously, unsure but delighted for what else he has in mind. Sam turns back to his place behind the easel, he gives you a pleased grin as he takes you in. “I need you to place your hands for me.” Sam says. “How would you like me, sir?” You respond with a coy smile. Your turn of phrase sparks something within the artist, the title upon your sweet voice makes Sam hot. “Place your hands on your chest.” He commands. You blush hot at his request, your hands slowly glide up your body and rest on your breasts. You lock eyes with him as you grope your breasts over the thin material.

Sam is nearly left breathless as you let your head roll to the side. You lean into his game you two have decided to play, letting him ogle you as you play with your breasts, allowing the artist to drink you in this way. You let out a breathy sigh when you tease over your nipples, the whole scene is full of a delectable tension between you and this angelic looking painter. His lips are parted in the most beautiful way, he shifts behind his canvas before speaking again. "Pull up your skirt, Princess." He commands you once more, you can't help but widen your eyes a tad at his words, you let one hand come down to your thigh and pinch the soft material of your under dress that lays against you, pulling it up, slowly, teasingly, until it's just above your knees. 

You tilt your head to him, "Like this, sir?" You ask with a gentle rasp, your tone low, feigning an innocence you know is driving him insane. “Higher.” He simply answers. You can’t help the slight smile that comes to your lips as you bring the dress higher until it’s just barely above your french silk panties. You look to him, “Like this?” You ask, his gaze travels up your body and you feel your whole body buzzing with excitement. “Beautiful. Now, I want you to place one hand over your panties.” Sam instructs. 

Timidly, you place your hand over your underwear, you let out a small sigh as you could already feel yourself growing wetter and wetter. “Just like that, darling.” Sam praises. You had to admit, you did feel beautiful this way, a feeling only Sam can seem to conjure within you. You look up at Sam, his eyes giving away a simple truth, he is barely holding on. His heart is slamming in his chest, as is yours, but the feeling of this moment is too good to rush. 

Sam walks around his easel once more, your face is flushed as he comes back, this time it feels different, less formal than before. Without saying a word, Sam slides his fingertips up your arm, goosebumps raising over your skin as he does so, his hand comes to the strap of your dressing gown, he pulls it off your shoulder, letting it rest just so. His hands make you feel like your whole body is on fire. He moves his other hand to cup over your own that is holding your breast, you gasp lightly at the feeling as he squeezes gently making you hold your breast tighter in a way that feels so good you can’t help but exhale deeply in reaction to his presence. You watch intently, studying the beauty of the tops of his large hands, so tanned and covered in gorgeous veins that shift as he moves, the hands of an artist that encapsulates your smaller ones. 

His other hand moves down your arm that rests between your legs, slowly moving until he’s got his hand over your own. Your eyes lock onto his beautiful brown eyes, you feel like you finally see them now, the way they look so golden and the rings of darkness inside of them, he’s so beautiful, more so than you first realized. 

“Does this feel alright, Princess?” He asks softly as he adds a gentle pressure to your silk covered pussy with your own fingers. You sigh out in pleasure at the much needed friction, “Feels so good.” You whisper, he moves your hand up and down over your clothed center, his other hand gliding his thumb over your nipple. “Mmm.” You whine, “You look so beautiful like this.” Sam praises softly, you can’t help how his words affect you, you need more. 

“But I think this,” he gently grabs your wrist, leading your hand down into your underwear, “Makes you look even more beautiful.” He smirks, leaning in closer to you, you moan out at the feeling of your fingertips gliding through your folds. “So wet.” You whisper, Sam brings his lips up to your ears. “Tell me, Princess, is this what you think of when you daydream of me?” He asks, his lips just grazing over the shell of your ear. 

A pathetic moan rolls up past your lips at his words, you move your fingers in slow circles over your needy clit. “So much better.” You respond breathlessly. He lets his hand slide down past your fingers working over your clit, his middle finger teasing your entrance, “I have to agree with you Princess, I don’t think I could have dreamt of anything this perfect.” He whispers, his breath cascading gently over the skin of your neck as he kisses softly at your pulse point, his finger gently pressing inside you. 

“Mmm, you’re so wet for me already.” He says, you can feel his smirk grow against your neck, proud to see just what hold he has over you. His teeth grazing gently over the sensitive skin in combination with his finger pumping inside of you makes your back arch with a moan, your chest pressing tightly against him. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, “You feel so tight, so warm.” Sam groans against your shoulder, his hand on your breast tightens as he starts to lose himself in the feeling of you. “Sam.” You moan as he adds another finger into your pussy, curling them up gently as he moves them inside of you. The feeling of your climax is hurtling towards you as your fingers increase the speed on your swollen clit. “S-Sam, ah, I-I’m-” Without letting you finish your thought, Sam interrupts you with a kiss, his hand moving from your breast and to your face, pulling you to him. 

You can’t help the way you absolutely melt into his lips, so much softer than you could have imagined. You let your eyelids fall closed, you kiss him desperately as your orgasm slams into you, your moans are muffled against Sam’s plush lips. His fingers speed up as he coaxes you through your climax, your hips rocking against his hand as you cum all over his fingers. 

Sam groans against your lips as your walls tighten around his fingers, the way your moans sound against him, the way your other hand is now clawing into his back, every inch of you is like holding lightning in his hands. 

You pull away to catch your breath as your orgasm melts away, your eyes scan Sam’s eyes, his pupils blown in desire, lips reddened from the roughness of your kiss. His hand slips out of your panties, you can’t help but tremble, his hand moves to rest against your waist. You remove your hand as well, grabbing at his vest, the two of you looking at each other, with a look of silent desperation for more. The air is heavy with expectation. What comes next? Who moves first? 

“I need you. All of you.” Sam breathes, voice laced in lust, his hand on your hip tightens, you smirk at his eagerness, “Then take me.” You say, pulling his vest, bringing him down into another kiss. He pulls you from the stool, close to him, bringing you to stand on wobbly knees, your fingers working at the buttons of his vest, working it off his chest. Sam begins to kiss down your neck, his hands sliding down your sides, his fingertips pulling up your gown, up and over your head, finally presenting your body to him. 

The warm glow of the setting sun along the expanse of your bare skin takes Sam’s breath away, oh how he wishes he could paint you here, in this very moment. Bathed in golden sunlight, eyes ablaze with passion, face reddened by an orgasm just moments ago and lips gently swollen by kisses from her lover, their first kiss. First Kiss, that's what he would call it, he would be the most acclaimed artist in all of the country, praised for the art of such a goddess, no way could she be real. 

“And to think, I was supposed to be painting you in all of those clothes.” He smiles gently, his words make your heart flutter. 

He works at the buttons of his shirt, exposing the beautiful muscle beneath. His skin is perfectly tanned, his chest and abdomen are gently carved with muscle. The view of him this way makes your lips part and your cheeks blush as you shamefully let your eyes study him. You pull his shirt off of him slowly, letting the white cotton fall down his sculpted arms, his whole body is a masterpiece to behold, and you want nothing more than to feel him against you. 

“How you are even real is beyond me.” You whisper as you run your fingers along his side, letting your hand rest on the top of his breeches, your fingers dipping inside, teasing at the skin of his hip underneath. “You’re so sweet, Princess.” Sam says as he pulls you close to him, his hands resting against the small of your back, so gentle and large against you. Your bare chest against his feels so warm and soft, it’s taking everything in your power not to just have all of him right here, right now. His hands run down to your ass, squeezing softly, “I bet you taste even sweeter.” You sigh at his provocative words, his voice raspy as he practically speaks against your lips. Sam’s hands pull your soaked panties down your legs, you kick them off and widen your stance for him as he kneels before you, his hands grabbing at the backs of your thighs as he begins to kiss at the soft skin beneath. 

You can’t help but gasp at the gentle kisses he places on your skin, he begins to kiss up towards your core, his eyes lulled closed as he works to love on your skin. You put a leg over his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his head as he licks up your pussy, immediately sending a cry of pleasure from you. 

His tongue feels so soft and so warm you can't help but tug at his hair, the ribbon that once loosely held his hair up cascades down, his long brown hair working perfectly to keep you from collapsing into a heap as your fingers take hold. You let your head fall back with a long, deep moan. You couldn't care less if the whole castle heard you, Sam deserves every single whine, whimper and cry you make. 

His hand holds your thigh over his shoulder and the other against his chest, holding you close to him, wanting nothing more than to hold you close to him as he devours your achingly wet pussy. “F-Fuck Sam, ah, so good.” You say, hardly able to speak as he attaches his lips around your clit. You grip tightly to Sam’s hair and shoulder, trying your best not to let yourself fall as your one leg on the ground is shaking. Sam groans deliciously against you as your nails scrape over his scalp, sending a shockwave through you that has you moaning and gasping for breath. It's all so good, all too good. 

You pull Sam roughly by his hair away from you, you look down at him, his long hair is wild from your hands running through it, his chin and gorgeously plump lips shine with your wetness, his expression one of confusion and desperation to please, “I want to feel you inside me.” You say longingly, he gives you such a perfect smile you can hardly contain yourself looking down at this man who is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you to say those words.” Sam whispers, you blush as he guides you down to the floor that thankfully is covered by the backdrop that flows all the way down to the marble beneath you. 

Undoing his boots and tugging desperately at his breeches, Sam works them down his legs, leaving him only in his undergarments. The feeling in the air shifts to something so passionate and loving, a stark contrast to the fervor between the two of you just moments ago. You sit on the soft cloth beneath you, the both of you sitting on your knees, looking at the other. “I find you absolutely breathtaking, you have enraptured me. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way before.” Sam confides in a near whisper as he leans closer to you, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You take his hand, holding his palm to your cheek, leaning into his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way either.” You reply, your heart soaring in your chest at the thought. You want more of him, to be all his. “Can I- um, can I touch you?” You ask quietly, your hand reaching out to touch his knee, both of you only inches away from each other. 

“Please.” Sam whispers as he brings your hand to his hardened shaft that's behind his thin underwear. You let your hand timidly slip into his drawers, your hand gently taking his cock in your hand. Sam shudders out a sigh at your touch and you have to hold back the moan of the feeling of him in your hand, “Oh, Princess.” He whimpers, you slowly begin to pump him watching as Sam’s brows knit together in pleasure, his lips gently parted as he focuses on the feeling of your soft hand wrapped around him, stroking him inside of his underwear. He looks like an angel this way, on his knees and practically melting into your touch, his expression is one you will think of over and over again from this night on, so at ease and so full of pleasure from just your touch. 

You lean in and kiss him sweetly, your hand still working him as he moans against your lips. “Want to feel you.” He whispers against your lips, you hum against him with a smile as you pull at his underwear. Sam pulls them off before sitting before you once more, his gorgeously erect cock resting against his toned stomach. 

You straddle his lap, sitting against his length, his hardened shaft between your legs is so warm and feels like silk on your wet pussy. A sigh passes through the two of you at the feeling of the other this way. You rock your hips against him, Sam takes his cock in his hand letting the tip slip through your folds, you lower yourself slowly onto his dick, moaning as you can feel him stretching you out. You watch him as you descend unto him, his face even more beautiful, he’s oozing ecstasy. “So tight, ah fuck, Princess.” He groans as you completely take him inside, letting him fill you up to the hilt. You let out a small yelp, he’s so much bigger than you’ve ever experienced before, you let your eyes close for a moment as you adjust to his size. Sam’s hands resting on your hips squeeze you gently, bringing you back to those beautiful brown eyes.

“Princess? Are you alright? We can go slow-” Sam asks nervously, only for you to interrupt.

“No, it’s not that. Just feels so good and s-so big, ah.” You stutter out a whine as you begin to rock your hips, taking him in slowly as you begin to ride him. “Just wanna ride you.” You moan out, eyes lulled shut as you begin to move, his cock hitting your cervix in just the right way you can’t help but cry out in euphoria every time you rock against him. You let the speed of your motions increase as you continue to ride him. “Oh god, ah, Sam you- ah, mmm, fuuuuck.” You moan, his arms are wrapped around you, hands squeezing tightly as you roll your hips against him. “Feels so perfect, ah, you take me so well, angel.” Sam praises, he buries his face in your chest, your hand falls to the back of his head, bringing him to your breasts. 

His lips latch against your nipple, gently sucking as you continue to rock against him. His moans stifle against your breast, the sound of his whimpers makes you nearly collapse just from the sound of him. A loud moan is pulled from within you, your thighs begin to shake, Sam detaches his lips from you, his arms tight around you as he smoothly rolls the two of you over, having you on your back with him over you.

“I want to watch you cum, Princess, cum so pretty for me.” He groans as he pulls you by your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he hikes your legs over his hips. You can’t help but let out a sob as he slams deep inside of you, hitting a place within you you never thought existed. He smirks to himself as he begins a tortuous pace, fast and hard and it's more than anything you could ever need, you need it bad, fuck you need this for the rest of your life.

Your breasts bounce as he rails into you, “Oh fuck, Sam, so fucking deep oh god.” You whimper, the knot inside of your lower stomach feels like it's about to snap. “S-Sam, I’m so close, s-so close-” “So am I, angel.” He pants out, his long hair flowing with his thrusts, brows knit, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip and you can’t stop thinking how you saw almost that exact expression all through these three sessions as he was lost in concentration, and here you are, about to cum for the second time on the floor of your drawing room by this expertly talented artist, what a sight to behold.

A loud cry rips from your throat and you can’t stop the flow of nonsensical slurring of curses and Sam’s name until Sam brings his hand to your open mouth, the pad of his thumb resting against your tongue, his hand gripping your jaw as he fucks you relentlessly. You close your lips around it, humming against his thumb, unable to stay completely quiet. He releases his grip on your jaw and brings his thumb to your clit, your head rolls to the side, eyes squeezing shut as he begins to roll tight circles into your throbbing clit.

“Sam, I-I’m coming, fuck, I’m- ah, fuck me.” “Cum for me pretty girl, all over me, ah, I am too, ah, fuck.” Sam cries out as his thrusts become sloppy and more desperate, deeper and slower, it’s enough to make you cry out in pure, agonizing pleasure as he brings you both to climax. You grab hold of Sam, pulling him close to you, his hand tangled in your hair, your nails running down his back, the both of you filling the room with a cacophony of moans and groans and whimpers. 

Your thighs shaking around his hips, as the two of you fall into each other, both panting, in search of breath, taking in the delicious feeling of him holding you in this way, far too innocent a thought for all what has just transpired between the two of you. He gently lifts himself from you, and you can’t stop yourself from pulling him back down to you, letting him lay back on top of you once more. “Don’t.” Is embarrassingly all you can think to say. “Please, just want you here.” You whisper against his ear, his breathing still jagged, he lets out a sigh of contentment, relaxing into you. His hands hold you tight, rolling you expertly to be on top of him. Sam’s hands gently caressing your back as he holds you, the both of you taking in the afterglow of one another.

“I would paint us like this if I could.” He sighs, eyes staring up at the ceiling of the darkening room, the sun setting on your time together. 

You sit up with a shock, “The painting! We-”

“Like I said before, I could paint your portrait with my eyes closed, Princess.” He smiles at you, easing you back down to lay against him once more. 

“Especially since there is no way I will ever be able to get you out of my head now.” His voice rasps sweetly as he locks eyes with you. You lean in for a kiss, gentle and soft. 

“So… tea time soon?”

“I’ll bring your portrait, and it better be the one.”

“I know it will be.”

My beautiful tag list (thank you for your patience i love you)

@tripthelight-fanfic @emsgvf @ageofstardust @dakotadovato @screechesincoherently @gretavankleep37 @strangeh0rizons @capturethechaos @kiszkathecook @jakeslovehandles @depressingdarlin @gretavanfleas @maverick-rose @prophetofthedune @josiee-gvf @doodle417 @readthinkbeme @katie-gvf @lallisonl @toxbexannouncedx @kdarling1 @theweightofjake

#ugh i love sam #gvf #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #jake gvf #josh gvf #danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny gvf #sam gvf #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka imagine #gvf smut #gvf fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #gvf imagine #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic

[drylan]

Breakup, make up

"You know Ryan is going to be there tonight." Kaitlyn said carefully, pushing one of Dylan's moving boxes out of the way as he buttoned up his shirt, single hand careful in his ministrations.

Moving in with Kaitlyn was a temporary situation, though. He would get his own place, and he could afford it, but the thought of living just with he and Schrodinger so soon after the breakup, well, it was painful.

"Okay, and? I'm a big boy. And Ryan is so, so mature, that he'll be fine, too. So, it's fine." It would be the first time he would see Ryan properly. And he knew there was a risk of him being there, since it was Abi's art show and a piece of Ryan's art had been included before they broke up.

"Sure, just...if you want to head out, like, at any time. Just tell me." Dylan scoffed but gave Kaitlyn a small half hug. He appreciated her concern, but he...he just knew he needed to move on. Even if he didn't want to.

The show was beautiful, and he didn't see Ryan for the first half hour. He went by to see actually peruse the the art on display after a bit of socializing with Kaitlyn, Abi, and Nick. There were a lot of gorgeous pieces of display, maybe he should think of buying one or two for when he eventually got his own place.

He stopped dead in his tracks when a portrait of himself stared back at him. He looked so happy, laid out among grass, a grin across his face, a flower crown lopsided on his head. It was from this past summer, a picnic he and Ryan had had at a nearby park. He remembered that day that he thought, wow, this is the man he was going to marry.

Where did it all go fucking wrong?

Dylan's single hand clenched onto his wine glass, feeling confused, angry emotions that bubbled inside of him. He hadn't been that happy since Ryan. Why, why had it had to go all wrong?

"Hey..." A familiar voice caused Dylan's stomach to flipflop. "...uh, sorry, I just...the piece was picked during the fall, so..."

"It's fine." It wasn't fine, but like Dylan said to Kaitlyn, he was a big boy. "You look good." He appreciated Ryan, dressed in all black as usual, looking moody and handsome and mysterious as usual. But there were bags under his eyes, matching the ones Dylan had seen in his own reflection when he got dressed for tonight.

"Do do you. How's Schrodinger?"

"She's a little asshole, as usual..." It grew tense between them, awkwardness in the quiet. Quiet between them never used to be awkwward.

"...I've missed you." Ryan offered and Dylan tensed further, shaking his head.

"Can we not do this..."

"I'm sorry, man, shit, fuck." Ryan cursed under his breath and Dylan's heart fluttered. Fuck, he had missed him, too.

"It's okay, just...can we not talk about this, well, here?" Ryan nodded in understanding and tilted his head for Dylan to follow, which he did.

Upstairs to the artists' lofts above, where apparently Ryan had been staying at since the breakup. It was clinical and clean, away from the bustle downstairs and prying eyes.

"I miss you, too." He admitted. "You know that, right? Since...since the moment you called it all off. Fuck, Ryan! And then you have nerve to...to let them display that painting of me?! Of when you loved me? You were the one that quit us, not me!" Dylan couldn't help the rage that overtook him as he tossed the wine glass to the floor, shattering it.

"I never stopped loving you, you just...you deserve so much better." Ryan was in tears, Dylan realized. And he was crying himself, too, rage melting away to sadness over the loss.

"I didn't want better, Ryan, fuck! I still don't! All I wanted was you, that's all I've ever wanted. Why couldn't you understand that?"

"I guess, I just always thought you'd leave, that...that you'd realize I wasn't worth it, so..."

"That's so stupid." Dylan stood up, stepping closer to Ryan now, closing their distance. "You're so stupid. And I still love you, so, so..."

"I know I don't deserve it, but, Dylan, fuck..."

"Shut up." Dylan said quickly, before pressing their lips together. Ryan deepened the kiss as they stumbled back onto the bed, bodies and mouths and touches falling easily into routine, into that familiar love they always had for each other.

After, with Ryan wrapped around him and them both bare, catching their breath, he laughs manically. "Wha...what is?"

"Kaitlyn is gonna be so pissed...we just got all the boxes into her place."

Ryan laughed, and it was the perfect sound.

#my stuff #fanfic #ficlet #the quarry #ryan ezrahler #dylan lenivy #drylan #rylan #radioheads

[okwritingandpain]

Hogwarts Legacy: The Curse of The Ravenclaw House: Phineas Nigellus Black x Reader

Chapter 16: Trial Three

"No, no, no." Black said to a tired looking Fig. "I can't do this without Y/N!"

"But you must, Black." Fig sighed, covering his face with his hand. Black paced the floor of the respiratory, hoping that for some reason you would appear to guide him. "It is probably for the best that she is not here for this trial."

"And what's that supposed to mean, Fig?!" Black snapped, stomping his foot.

"Just start the trial, Black!" Fig left his portrait and Black let out a huff of anger. He didn't want to do the trial! Never. Ever. This was your problem! This was made for your magic! Not. His.

"Just remember" He muttered to himself, "You are the most beautiful and handsome man ever. No one can detest to your gracious good looks and amazing hair. Blow them away, Black." He smirked and grabbed the key off the table. "Now where is the trial starting?" He looked around the room, expecting a magic arrow to point the way. His lips pressed together as nothing happened. "You've got to be kidding me!" This was already proving to be a pain and now that he had no idea where to start, he decided to just check in on you for help. He quickly made his way back up to the school and headed towards the Hospital Wing.

"Professor Black?" A voice asked and he whipped around to see his sons Sirius and Phineas.

"Boys!" He cried, spreading his arms out for a hug but neither of them took it. He awkwardly drew his arms back. "I mean, boys. It is good to see you."

"How is Y/N?" Sirius asked, avoiding Black's gaze. Black forced a smile.

"She's alright for now." He replied, his hands behind his back. "How are you?"

"Fine." Sirius replied, grabbing Phineas' hand and turning away.

"Phineas." Black said, making his son turn to face him. "How are you?" Phineas glanced at his brother with fear.

"I'm good, father." He finally said, joining his brother and walking away. Black felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. What was the point of dwelling if he wasn't receiving the same regret in return. He took a deep breath before continuing on his journey to the Hospital Wing. He passed many students who sometimes gave him a smile for cancelling classes, but right after he would hear them laugh at him. Every time...except for you. Finally he made it. Black knocked on the door frame before entering. You were reading in your bed, curled up next to your owl plush, Hubert.

"What are you doing here?" You asked with a confused look. Black sat at the foot of your bed, playing with a string that stuck out of the covers.

"Fig didn't tell me where the trial started, so I came back here." He said, plainly.

"How do you know that the trial hasn't already started?" You ask, setting your book down and picking up Hubert. The owl danced on Black's arm as you smile.

"I didn't think of that." He replied, watching you twirl the owl in the air.

"I didn't think you would, Nigellus." You smirk, laying back in your bed.

"Nigellus?" He looked up at you.

"I thought that since we're on better terms that I could call you Nigellus. Were not close enough for me to call you Phineas so...why have three names and not use them?" You shrug. Black tried to hide the large smile he was growing from your words. You viewed him differently. You viewed him differently from others! Small fragments from his broken heart were picking to fall back into place. Just a small piece was rebuilt, but it was enough for now. Black reached for your hand, but felt nothing. Your eyes were glassy and clear, startling Black. "I think the trial has begun." You whisper and fade away. Black fell to the floor as he appeared in his office. Sitting in the student chair was Cornelius and the previous headmaster of Hogwarts. Black hadn't cared for his teaching style and so he forgot about him. Maybe that's why this felt so vague.

"Cornelius." The Headmaster said, "We're concerned by what your friend, Violet has told us."

"There is nothing to be concerned about, Headmaster." Cornelius reassured, keeping his voice calm.

"I wish that was true, but based off what Violet and now even Professor Black has said than I think we have a problem. The way that you wish to use your magic is very irresponsible" The Headmaster turned in the direction of Black and his eyes went wide. "Speak of the devil. Black! Get off the floor and sit next to this young man." He could see him? Black nervously got to his feet and pulled up a chair next to Cornelius. "You're looking older today, Black."

"Thank you?"

"Headmaster. Why does he have to be here?" Cornelius ignored Black. "There is not reason, sir for him to be--"

"Silence. I brought Black here to duel you." The Headmaster's cool look turned into a menacing grin. "Cornelius vs Phineas. What a challenge, don't you agree?" Black looked taken aback as Cornelius pulled out his wand.

"I've waited a long time for this." He began to laugh hysterically.

"I wish Y/N was here." He whispered, gripping his own wand. As if his prayers had been answered, he blinked and he was in the hospital wing. He was lying on a bed with something soft in-between his arms. It was Hubert...but how? "Merlin's beard..." He said, but it didn't sound like himself. He couldn't be--

"Nigellus, what the hell!" You snapped as the words left your mouth...and his? His hand flicked back and forth as if he was casting a spell. Did him and you switch bodies? More like inhabiting two bodies together and then yelling at each other.

"I don't know what is happening..." Black freaked out. He. Was. A. Girl. "This doesn't feel right..."

"You can say that again." You hiss, flicking your wrist harder. "I'm fighting Cornelius right now while you get to sit in bed!"

"I didn't mean for this to happen! I just wished you were here and now we're both here!" Black tried to blink over and over to see if he would appear in that room again. Suddenly his (your?) body jerked to the side and then to the other. Unfamiliar hair and other parts brushed him. This was so strange and he wanted it to end. "I want to go back!" He pleaded but his prayers were not answered this time.

"Nigellus!" Y/N roared as their bodies were pinned onto their backs. "Figure out how to reverse this already!"

"I tried!" He shouted back as he heard foot steps coming down the hall. "Try to shut up! There's someone coming!" He forced their body to lean over into a sleeping position. Their wrist still flicked and he had to hold it with the opposite hand.

"I heard her screaming, but she looks alright. Must have been a dream, Professor Weasley." The nurse said, turning to leave. Weasley stood over them for a moment, watching them curiously. Black tried his best not to suddenly jolt, but it was starting to become difficult as you struggled to fight Cornelius. Finally, Weasley left and Black could stop fighting and let you destroy Cornelius. It hurt as he hit the side of the nightstand. You were going to feel that once you got your body fully back.

"Nigellus!" You scream, feeling the bump he just caused.

"Sorry!" He shouted back, staring down the entrance to the wing. "Are you almost done!?"

"Hopefully soon!" You jolt around some more. Black tries everything his power to keep from distracting you, but it becomes more and more difficult. "He's almost dead, Nigellus!"

"Good!" Black marinated in his name. He sense of comfort came from it...even if he wasn't used to it. Suddenly the body went limb and Black couldn't move. He could feel his body distantly, but not close enough to be sure he was even right. He felt you were nearby. Like you both were connected for a few moments. Pain hit him like an arrow to a deer as he felt a deep sorrow. It's something he knew but not in the way that he felt it come from you. You felt sorrow for something and now he knew about it. What was he supposed to do? He wanted you to be safe and protected but why? Why did you change him? Why? His beliefs and love...all changed due to you...had he changed you like you had changed him?

"Black?" Fig asked, staring down at him on the floor. He was himself again. "Are you okay?"

"For now. I have someone I need to talk to first." He said, sitting up and brushing off his clothes. "Someone very important." He whispered, knowing the third trial was done. What were they supposed to learn from that? That was something he would never known until later when he considered everything in retrospective. For now he didn't much care until he knew how to help Y/N's deepest sorrow...which was everything.

#phineas nigellus black #hogwarts legacy #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #phineas nigellus black x reader #professor sharp #seventh year #ravenclaw #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #romance #slow burn #hogwarts oc #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

[aajjks]

👀👀

BC!JK

“good job today class!! you all have a wonderful day!” you tell your students as they happily rush out of your class. today was an early day at school which means you get to go home early too!!

of course you still do some lesson planning to stay caught up for next week which is about self-portraits for your kindergartners and western art history for your middle schoolers. as you’re finishing up your lesson planning, you feel your phone vibrate in your desk and before you can take it out—

*KNOCK* *KNOCK*

“miss y/n? someone is here to speak with you” says one of your co-teachers who is standing at your door.

“good afternoon, y/n” he says and when you look up to see who it is, it doesn’t take you a long time to figure out just who the man in question is. from his suave demeanor, calm tone, and smile this man is jungkook’s father jeon jaehan.

“g-good afternoon mr. jeon. weird seeing you here” you say as you stand up from behind your desk to walk up to jaehan and shake his hand.

“no need to be formal dear” he smiles and sneakily his thumb travels to rub the smooth skin of your palm. jihye constant bashing about you made jaehan wonder what you looked like in person.

it’s only right that he meets the woman that’s got his son wrapped around his finger and he’s beginning to think that jihye was exaggerating because you are drop dead gorgeous.

your pretty eyes are enough to rival his wife’s, your lips are perfectly plump, and your freckles look like a constellation he could stare at all day and night. your voice is as sweet as honey and your body is to die for.

not to mention you smell so fucking good, if you were a piece of candy he’d eat you up. your coveralls are adorable and so are your glasses, to sum it up, jaehan completely understands why his son is so hung up over you.

“uhhhhhh…mr. jeon?”

“oh, sorry. spaced out there. you’re very beautiful”

“oh, uh, thanks?”

“no need to thank me. a woman like you should know that already. ehem, but that’s not why i’m here, would you look to eat dinner with me? my son would love for you to join us”

“thanks but no thanks. not sure if you’re aware but your son and i aren’t friends at the moment”

“oh really? why?”

“i’m sure he can tell you why”

he already knows why but he just wants to listen to you talk. no wonder these kids are so fascinated with you. your voice is perfect, your face is perfect, and you are perfect. didn’t jungkook say you broke up with someone?

whoever let you go is insane and his son is a bigger idiot than he thought because he fucked up his chance to have you.

but maybe…

“well i just had to meet the woman whose got my son so crazy in love. if you ever change your mind” jaehan hands you his card with both his phone number and personal address on it.

“just give me a call. enjoy your day” he says before turning to leave you with your confused thoughts.

‘great. first his mother and now his father?’ you think to yourself before you get your phone from your desk and open it to see a text message from an unsaved number saying ‘sage is missing you’

what a coincidence.

‘i miss sage too. how’s bam?’

[UMMM MR JEON?!!? UMMMMM Excuse me? SHE IS SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR FUTURE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.]

Your reply is instant. And it’s already got him giggling like he’s gone mad. Jungkook sighs and relief as you’ve replied and he takes a few minutes to reply to your text back because he doesn’t want to seem too desperate.

But after three minutes, he’s already typing his message.

‘she says you should come here~- and as for him? He’s been a little grumpy, which is so weird because he’s never grumpy with me.’

He sends it, trying not to sound too persistent, and the truth is that sage doesn’t want you here, but he does.. jungkook laying down, waiting for your reply and everything is going good that is until… you tell him that his father just visited you.

And he immediately sits up straight from his bed, absolutely shocked, because why would he? What is going on? Did his mother tell him everything? And maybe he went there to you, were probably to offer you money so you can be out of jungkooks life forever?

‘wait yn?! I’m going to call you please pick up.’

He is so embarrassed right now because his parents don’t leave any opportunity to do that, why would he visit you when he’s always so busy even for his own son?

Jungkooks quickly dialing your number and you pick up after one ring. “Uh hello? My father was there?! at your workplace? How the fuck did even find it? I don’t know where you work?”

His father is not a nice man. He knows that very well and he wouldn’t just go there so he can fix his sons fucked up love life.

Not unless he has an agenda for himself.

“what did he say to you?”

#ask: bc!jk #GIRL IM SPEECHLESS #let’s hope yn doesn’t become jks step mommy 😮‍💨

[canmom]

L'Aventure de Canmom à Annecy - Mercredi 2

Next thing for Wednesday: Mexican films, collection "urban and suburban". Mexican animation is the theme of this year's Annecy, which is why all the Gobelins intros are about Mexican stuff. As such there are a number of collections of Mexican animation. I don't think I'll be able to catch all of these, but I want to get a few because I know next to zero about Mexican animation!

So, Urban and Suburban: anything loosely related to cities. This was a pretty varied set for sure! It spanned quite a time frame, from 90s stop motion stuff that looked like it could have aired on Liquid Television to modern stuff using drone timelapses and such. A full three of the films centred on suicides.

Opening the collection we had La Ciudad, which lived somewhere between the UPA style and Cyriak, with a layered digital cutout animation style in three musical acts. I'm not sure I got all of what it was putting down, but the constant motion definitely grabbed me and locked me in.

Sin Sostén was our first suicide film, and the most liquid television in the whole set. Claymation, a businessman jumps off a building, and we see a vivid after death hallucination in which billboards come alive, and a cowboy catches him with a lasso and almost kills him. but in fact he dead rip

Made In Central de Abastos was pretty neat. Mostly it was timelapses from a drone flying backwards through food markets and warehouses, mixed with a bit of stop motion. Something that maybe brings to mind Koyaanisqatsi, but this took on a more chaotic effect.

Desde Adentro was interesting, it was animated by kids at some sort of institution called Reformatoire de Morelia, something like a homeless shelter I think? It was cutout animation depicting a variety of interleaved plots: two gangs of kids, variously stealing from narcos, fighting over money, and at one point skinheads getting involved. Felt kind of like a Fiasco session, or old school newgrounds. At the beginning and end were a few clips of the animators.

Mis multiples suicidios was, as the title suggests, another suicide film. Not a ton of story, but there was a revolving roto'd outline of a naked woman as sketchy figures moved slowly to the edge. Didn't really click with me I'll be honest...

Un día en familia depicts an injured boxer and his family taking a day at the zoo. I don't quite understand the ending of this film - he paid for his family to leave or something? I thought he was paying for a portrait and found myself kind of confused as the camera pulled back on the boxer alone.

Bestias Urbanas depicts a tiny man who sees a vision of cars on the street turning into animals. He is saved from disaster on the crossing by a centaur who shows up. I was briefly distracted in the middle of this one so i probably missed the key shots that make it fit together lol.

Última estación was a fun one in a thickly painted style that made me think of paint on glass. Passengers on a bus are kidnapped by a robot, taking them to a cyborgisation facility where they're turned into chicken brains vendors. The use of light on the nighttime dash across the city was really cool.

Liber was stop motion at a library using light, books, and then ultimately destructive stop motion animation by cutting the pages. Honestly, it didn't do a lot for me.

The Inksect was an example of a really cool visual style applied to a really dumb premise. It's a dystopian future where humans have turned into cockroaches because they don't read enough books, but some are trying to read and become human again. The dystopian city is rendered in a sick angular style and honestly I'd have liked this a lot more without the intro explaining it, even with heavy handed references to the statue of liberty and kafka.

Inventario Churubusco was stop motion using various bits and pieces around a film restoration lab. I was pretty worn out at this point, and honestly I'd be more interested to see how the machines work than stop motion of doors opening and closing lol

La niña del río was very brief. A girl leaves home to evade an arranged marriage, to become part of the river. I think the vo saying everyone can decide their fate regardless of station distracted me from like... this is another suicide one isn't it? fuck

Finally, El Héroe used a very detailed animation style that reminded me of John McCloskey. A man at a subway intervenes to try to stop a girl killing herself, but she calls the guards on him and kills herself regardless. Haha...?

It was a fun collection. Definitely not all hits but it was cool to see stuff I would never catch otherwise!

#l'aventure de canmom à annecy #pictures to be added later

[thelaughingmerman]

I would love to hear your LCA headcanons!

Hi! I wasn't ignoring this ask I'm so sorry I 10000 percent just plain forgot it was in here (I think I opened it first on my phone while out and about and said "Oh fun!! I will answer this at home!" And that was when I forgot.)

I had a couple posts but I can't find them because I don't know what tagging is. Here are some things I do remember. Under a readmore because I wrote too much, spaced them all out with bullet marks:

-Freya is a lesbian, but not currently seeing anyone. She works A LOT. And spends a lot more time at the Station than she really needs to (though she's not Duke levels of bad). She's very dedicated to and loves her job, but it's a very stressful position. It's tiring a lot but she wouldn't give it up for the world.

-Clemmons is bi and lives with his partner. Like most everyone at the station, he works a 24 on, 48* off shift. He spends a lot of time exploring the city on off time. He's great with directions, and people person who usually remembers little details about friends and family they may have mentioned once in passing. This (coupled with his tendency to excel when given a task he's good at) made him the perfect candidate to tackle Freya's unique form of firefighting (it’s part of the reason she chose him for her team, and why she started sending him to get her wild list of firefighting supplies). While sort of bad at managing his own anxiety, he's really good at helping others manage theirs. He likes video games a lot too!

-Bob is questioning his gender and sexuality. He didn't know there were so many labels and now he's very confused. He doesn't have to figure it out right away. While he works the 24/48 schedule as well, he's most likely to give extra hours where necessary. Spends a chunk of his off days at the gym. Loves dogs and would like a dog of his own but with that schedule he knows it wouldn't be fare to the dog even with a sitter.

-Carol is a single mom. Her ex doesn't stay in touch and it's just fine for them really. As of last Christmas their family has grown by 2 (Guinea Pigs). Both Carol and Maddie really consider Mayor Fleck like family to them. Fleck isn't good with words on that sort of thing but he is very fond of them, yes. Fleck is a practical man, and this extends to gifts. The Christmas following the events of 'Small Carol' he gave Maddie her own 'special mayor pen' with her name on it. She loves it and keeps it safe in the box it came in when she's not using it.

-Frankie had a gallery show for his art once! He invited Duke, mostly so he could see his first collaboration piece, a self portrait with tire tracks across it. (Frankie Lupelli and Duke DeTain, Self Portrait with Tire Tracks, Mixed Media Acrylics on Canvas with LEGO Brand Tire)

-Big Betty is very close with her family. She has two young nieces (9 and 6) who she often babysits. Sometimes Hank will come hang out with her and her nieces too. They let the girls paint their nails and do their makeup and hair. The pair also actually go get their nails done together sometimes. Frankie has joined them on occasion. Vinnie came once but he complained.

-Hacksaw is gender-neutral and has no preference of pronouns.

-Wheelie is a gay trans man (and would really like to be called Wheelie like for the love of god why aren't we using this man's name, that's not a headcanon I'm just annoyed).

-Billy's cat (from Billy the Bug, we never see this cat again but Anne says he can keep it I have to assume this thing is still in the house) LOVES Mark. Mark has yet to fully come around but he has been caught once or twice patting the cat's head (like one small, barely even making contact) when it jumps onto the arm rest of his chair. Sanitizer used immediately after, but hey, baby steps.

This got wordy I'm so sorry I'll stop there for now.

I haven't researched what it's like elsewhere but here in America a lot of stations do a 24 on- 48 off schedule. Where teams work a full 24 hour day, then have two days off. I've made this the case for LCA as well?

#lca #lego city adventures #garmadont #im sorry it took me a million years also sorry half of these are like somewhat supported by canon and the other half #just make sense to me in particular based on my understanding of the characters mileage mayvary #aforementioned clemmons partner is an oc and that i wont apologize for