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#literally none of my muses are right in the head how are they supposed to have a healthy relationship
atlabeth · 2 days
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true luck's kiss
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader
summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?
a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao
wc: 1.2k
warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me
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You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 
“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 
You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 
“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 
“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 
She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 
You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”
A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 
You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.
“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”
You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”
“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”
“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”
Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”
You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 
He chuckled. “So you are free?” 
“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 
“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 
You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 
He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 
“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 
“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 
“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 
“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”
“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”
“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 
“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 
Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 
You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 
“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 
You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 
“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 
“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 
When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 
“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 
“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 
“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 
“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  
“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 
Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 
He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  
“Really,” you said dryly. 
“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 
You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 
“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 
You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 
There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 
“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 
Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 
Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 
Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 
You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 
“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 
“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 
Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 
“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 
“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 
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siribaes · 1 month
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ANGEL OF MINE (Sequel to Who’s Better Than Me?)
Rio x blackfem!reader (OC - Angel)
“After a plateau in their relationship, Rio sets out to make things right—”
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PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School School Sweethearts
SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: We Need Resolution by Aaliyah, Best Thing by Usher, Take Away by Missy Elliott & Ginuwine, Think Of You by Amerie, Fallen by Mya, Ella Me Levanto by Daddy Yankee
CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, ANGST, Some fluff, professing of love, cursing, pinv, r*ugh s*x, cre*m p*e, or*l (fem receiving), Semi Redeemed Rio, Rio being a bedroom bully, with a dash of pettiness again lol, slight use of Spanish, a potential pregnancy, etc. (NOT PROOFREAD/UNEDITED)
AUTHORS NOTE: Genuinely I did not think about writing another part, but some ideas popped up in my head and so here we are lol! this part is kinda long but hope y’all enjoy regardless 💖 GIF CREDIT: by me :)
“How I'm supposed to be to you if you keep squirmin'? Be still,"
Angel couldn’t fully register Rio’s instructions over the pounding of her heart. She shivered, squirming in her spot on the bed. Rio lowered his head, placing small kisses on Angel’s stomach. The softness and warmth of his lips spurred her on even more, Angel began to pull away from Rio's touch.
“Don’t move,” Rio ordered, his large hands held her in place, one of them pressed down on Angel's stomach, "You gonna be good and listen, hm?"
“Yes! I’ll be g-good,” Angel whimpered.
Rio smiled down at her, keeping one hand on her stomach, while the other reached for his hardened shaft. He aligned himself with her dripping core, plunging the tip into her wetness, eliciting a soft moan from Angel. He repeated the movement a few times over slowly easing more of him into her. Angel’s whines grew more desperate with each shallow stroke.
With one last stroke, Rio bottomed out, fully, planting his hands firmly at Angel’s waist.
“Fuck, Angel. So fuckin’ tight,”
Angel’s hands snake up Rio’s back, pulling him towards her, as he began rocking into her.
“Angel,”
“Yes, baby?”
“Angel,”
“Hm?”
“Angel!”
With two snaps from her friend, Benny, Angel was pulled out of her reverie and back into reality.
“You good?” Benny asked as he waved his fork in the air.
“She’s fine,” Keke chuckled, “She’s just having a flashback, of Riooo,”
Angel rolled her eyes as she took a sip from her drink. She leaned back into her seat, looking at the passerbyers. It was a beautiful day, the sun shined brightly, casting down warm rays. After being stuck in the office in the all morning, the change in scenery was much needed.
“Have you talked to him?” Benny mused. He twirled pasta around his fork, before eating a large forkful.
“…No,” Angel sighed.
“Seriously?” Keke asked, eyes wide with shock. “I thought y’all hit it off, literally, after the reunion,”
“We did! And the sex was amazing, but—”
“But what?”
“I don’t know, y'all. So much time has passed, and he's changed so much since we were in high school, I feel like he's not the same boy I once knew,”
"I mean duh, Angel," Keke shrugged, "are any of us who we were 20 years ago?"
"She's right, Angel," Benny added, "None of us are the same as we were back then. It's impossible, babe. It sounds like you more scared of what he does not who is,"
Angel leaned back into her chair; arms folded across her chest. Maybe Benny was right. There was never a moment that passed in the day that she didn't want to be wrapped in Rio's arms. To just be with him. Yet, every time Angel wanted to reach out something stopped her. Everything was different about Rio and seeing him at the reunion was a bit jarring. From his clothes to the way he walked, even that damn eagle tattoo itched on his neck. The way he practically had all of their former classmates fawning over him, laughing at all of his jokes. There was a dangerous charm that Rio possessed. Sure, Angel was used to Rio's boy-ish charms after being on the receiving end of it, but this was something entirely different. It was potent, calculated, and completely irresistible. That was developed from experience, an experience that made Angel think twice.
"By all means, I'm not excusing Rio's, nefarious activities," Benny continued, "I just think you should at least talk to the man. The man, you've been in love with most of your life,"
"And from that glow you've been sporting," Keke added, she paused to a sip from her drink, slurping for dramatic affect. Benny and Angel chuckled, "I know that dick was good. So, take a chance! You'll never know what could happen between you too,"
Angel nodded. For the rest of the day, she pondered Benny and Keke's advice. She had to take a chance, she had to try.
----
It wasn't until 10 PM, when Angel pulled to her home. Arms chalked full of groceries, she wanted to stock up on food and other snacks for her much needed staycation. Angel trudged up the stairs, to her humble bungalow, she fumbled with the straps of the shopping bags and her work purse, trying grab her keys. She quickly opened the door, once inside she locked the door behind her and made a beeline for the kitchen.
Angel didn't bother to turn the light on in the kitchen. Her mind was preoccupied with putting the groceries away so she could take a shower and finally relax. So much that she didn't notice a smoldering, Rio leaned against the refrigerator. He watched her as she unloaded the groceries, not wanting to disturb her just yet. He wanted to admire the way her slacks hugged her curves, just a tad bit longer.
With a grocery bag in hand, Angel turned around, immediately meeting Rio's eyes. Her heart dropped to her stomach.
“Fuck!”
Angel quickly crouched down, grabbing the spilled groceries on the floor. Rio crossed the room in quick strides, bending down to help. A quietness fell over them as they loaded the items into the reusable bag.
“…What are you doing here? How did you get here? You know what don't answer that," Angel sputtered. She sat the bag on her breakfast table. She folded her arms over her chest, “No call, no text. I mean, what the hell Rio?”
His expression was indecipherable as Rio peered at her. His eyes continued to trace over her, as if he was trying to commit her features to memory, as if he really needed to for that matter. Rio tipped his head to the side and scratched the light stubble on his chin.
Angel mentally kicked herself, only Rio could look that dangerously good in minimal lighting. She averted her eyes, looking at the calendar tacked on her fridge, before looking back at Rio.
He shrugged. “I could say the same. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You avoidin’ me?”
Angel scoffed. “First off, I’m not avoiding you. Second, who breaks into someone’s home after not seeing for a couple of weeks—”
“—A month,”
“However, long it was. If you wanted to talk, this isn’t the way to go about it,”
Rio nodded slowly, poking his bottom lip in that ever so subtle way, as he mused over Angel’s words.
“If I called, would you have answered?”
Angel opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it. Truth was, if Rio did call, she wouldn’t have picked up. Not because Angel didn’t want to, it was complicated. The night that they shared was magical, more amazing than anything Angel could ever dream of, but when the sun rose the next morning and reality set in. They were too different, Angel lived a normal life, she loved her job, her friends, her family, even the “Tinkerbell” car she drove. Her life was routine, with a few moments of spontaneity (hooking up with Rio was one of them). Rio’s life she assumed, was nothing but spontaneity, having to always keep one eye open, always looking over one’s shoulder. Adding Rio into the equation was too much. It was easier when they were younger, it was simpler time. Their love came with no extra baggage, it was pure.
Now, things are much different, Rio was different. He’s a crime boss for pete’s sake, and Angel knew that he didn’t want the same things, as she did. Last time she checked, living the life of a criminal didn’t allow for marriage and kids, not in the way Angel wanted anyway.
“Rio,” Angel began, the dropped her arms, and twiddled with her fingers, “you…we, we are just different,”
A deep sigh escaped Rio. When Angel finally met Rio’s gaze she could see the cracks in his resolve. His jaw was tight, and usual brown eyes carried a hardness in them. Rio ran a hand across her features, rolling his shoulders while doing so.
“You breakin’ my heart, Angelita,” Rio took a few steps forward, now standing only a few away from Angel. He easily towered over her small frame, “what’s so different about me?”
“Y-you’ve changed, I’ve changed,”
“So?”
“So?! This is serious, Rio, are lives are completely different, you don’t want the same things as me,”
“Bullshit. I need real, Angel. Why are you pullin’ away from me?”
“You’re a fucking criminal, Rio!”
A huge wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over her, she quickly buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at Rio after saying what she said. How could she react like that? Regardless of her aversion to what Rio does, he deserved more respect than the outburst she just had. This was the man she’s been in love with since she fifteen, he deserved better.
Angel felt Rio gently wrap his hands around hers, and pulled them away from her face. He then tilted Angel’s upwards to meet his gaze. Rio searched her eyes, seeing the guilt in them he softened.
“You scared of me, Angel?”
Angel froze. Her mind traveling back to the night they spent together, and the glimpse gun she saw as she left his place. Her mind drummed up all of the scenarios that could happen, flashes of him in an orange jumpsuit behind bars, and his name across the headstone in the graveyard. A future that she never wanted to see, but in a way already happened. A little into Angel's first semester of college, word got out Rio was going to prison, it broke her. She couldn't bear to see him like that or worse, 6 feet under.
So, to answer his question was she scared of Rio, no. Was she scared of what could happen to Rio, absolutely, Angel loved him too much just to be okay with could happen to him. Or what he could do to others.
"Hey, hey," Rio spoke, pulling her focus back to him, "there you go wonderin' again. Tell me, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
Angel sighed. “...I don’t like what you do,”
Rio dropped his hand away from Angel's chin. He nodded slowly, processing. A quietness fell over them, as they stared wordlessly at one another. Rio's eyes slowly trailed down towards Angel's chest. She felt the breath hitch in her throat, when he reached towards her. Gently, he lifted the necklace she wore. Rio held the angel pendant between his fingers, the pad of his thumb softly tracing over the figure's wings.
"You kept it," Rio spoke, his eyes combing over the figure with Angel could only interpret as fondness. Her heart fluttered. "You know, I put in mad work tryna get this. Cutting grass, washing cars, all that shit. I wanted you to feel good. I wanted you to know I loved you,"
"Rio..."
"Por siempre y para siempre, forever and always. That's what's engraved on the wings. Angel, you're my forever, you're my always. It's only been you,"
Angel felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. This is the most vulnerable she's seen Rio, ever. To hear him speak with such sincerity and conviction, Angel couldn't help her heart swell with love.
"My business is my business, and I can't change what I did and all the choices I've made. But being with you made me realize, mama that shit has an expiration date," Rio brought his hands to Angel's face, and cradled her soft cheeks, "I can't promise that I'll magically become a better man over night, but I want to try, for you will. 'Cause I don't wanna loose you mama, not again,"
Without a second thought Angel leans forward and kisses Rio. Their kiss was sweet, tongues moving in tandem as Angel snaked her arms around Rio, pulling him closer to her. Her fingers caress the top of Rio's head, soft touches rubbing at his scalp. Rio lets out a throaty groan, its vibrations straight to Angel's core. A flush of heat rushes through her entire body. She breaks the kiss.
"I wanna try, Christopher," Angel whispers. She nuzzles Rio's nose. He pulls away slightly, to see her face fully. A smile blooms across his face. He kisses her again.
"Yeah?" Rio's smile grows wider seeing the sincerity in Angel's face.
"Yes, baby," Angel nods, biting her lip.
A flicker of lust danced in Rio eyes. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, while his hands drifted towards Angel's bottom. Rio's large hands squeezed and palmed her ass. He landed a firm smack on her ass.
"Rio!"
He chuckled. "Go upstairs, and get on the bed, how I like," Rio mumbled against her cheek, before placing a soft kiss there.
Angel didn't waste any time, she raced upstairs to her bedroom, completely forgetting about her groceries in the kitchen. She kicked off her heels, stripping off her slacks and dress shirt. Angel sat on her bed, legs spread out for him, in only her bra and panties. Coincidently, in his favorite color, green.
Minutes seemed to drawl into hours as Angel waited. Her heart rattled against her chest, as Angel's mind raced at the possibilities of what Rio was going to do to her. Another a minute or so passed when Angel heard Rio's footsteps coming up the stairs.
He appeared in doorway with two bottles of water in hand. He smoothly entered the room, eyes glued to Angel, he settled on a spot in front of Angel's vanity. Rio sat one of the water bottles down on the table, while he opened the other, taking a quick sip. His were so heated, so blazed as they roamed Angel's body. It felt like invisible hands were rubbing and caressing her all over.
"You look good, mama. All spread out for me. Shit, lingerie in my favorite color too..."
"All for you, baby," Angel cooed.
Rio's lips tipped into small smile. He took another swig of water. He sat the bottle down, putting the cap back on.
"I'm not gonna lie, you hurt my feelings, when you went ghost on me..."
"Rio, baby, I'm sorry–"
"Sshhh," Rio hushed Angel with a finger to his lips, "All is forgiven, but you got make it up to me. You gonna make it up to me, darlin'?"
Angel nodded.
"Play with that pussy for me."
Angel slowly peeled out of her panties, making a show out of it, she made sure that Rio got a view of her ass. She flung them to the side, returning her previous position. Widening her legs, Angel's fingers found themselves at her core, swiping at the wetness, she began to rub taut circles on her clit.
"Fuck!" Angel whined.
"Damn..." Rio voice trailed, eyes zeroing in Angel's core. He hummed in satisfaction as fingers began to unbutton his flannel. "You, look so fuckin' good. You close?"
"Yesssss, I'm so close! I need you soooo bad," Angel moaned as her fingers continued to rub tight circles on her clit.
"I got you, just keep going. I wanna see my pretty girl cum for me,"
Angel felt the familiar knot in her belly as her orgasm began to build. Her wetness pooled out of her the more her fingers worked her core. She felt her pussy flutter when Rio peeled out his t-shirt, revealing his svelte frame covered in intricate tattoos. Seeing his rich skin practically covered ink, tipped her over the edge.
"Ooooh, shit, I'm cummin',"
"Mhm, let it out for me, mama," Rio egged her on.
Angel shook as her orgasm coursed through her, wetting up her sheets. She laid down on the bed, closing her eyes as she rode out the aftershocks, her skin tingling with pleasure. Quick taps on her thighs, brought her back, she opened her eyes to Rio looming over her.
"On all fours, darlin',"
Angel obliged. She turned and faced her faced her headboard. She adjusted herself, making sure her the arch in her back was damn near perfect. Rio's belt and zipper clinked and clanked as he undressed himself. His hands palmed her ass, the callused pads of his fingers felt good against her skin. Angel mewled loudly, when she felt Rio's soft tongue lick down her slit.
"Christopher!"
"You taste good. Sweet as fuck," Rio groaned. "You ready for me?"
"Yes, baby. Please don't play with it," Angel turned her head to look at him, biting down her lip. She gazed into his stormy eyes, clouded thick with lust. With one hand, Rio's fingers trailed down Angel's spine, pausing for second. Then landed another firm smack on her Angel's ass. "Baby! Be nice,"
"Nah," Rio stated firmly, he deepened Angel's arch. He adjusted himself, inching his dick closer to Angel's entrance, "You still got some makin' up to do,"
With no warning, Rio plunged into Angel, bottoming out completely. Angel's toes curled, at his fullness and the stretch that only he could give her. He circled himself inside her, pulling himself out, then plunging back in. Rio tightened the grip on Angel's hips as began to rock into her. She gushed and clenched around his member, nails clawing at the sheets below them.
"Goddamn," Rio hissed, "I feel you tightin' around me. You close already?"
"Oh my god! Yes, you fuckin' me so good,"
"Yeaaaah, that's right me, only me. Nobody else, right mama?"
"N-nobody else, baby, shit! I love you so much, Christopher,"
Angel felt Rio's hips stutter at her confession. It only served as more motivation for Rio, spurring him on, he pistoned into Angel faster and harder. He reached downwards, grabbing a handful of her coils, yanking her upwards.
"Say it again," He rasped in her ear.
"I-I-I love you, shit,"
"Again,"
"I love you, I love you, I love you, Rio I'm cumming," Angel cried out.
Rio held Angel close, fucking her through her orgasm. Angel shuddered, as she felt her essence drip down her thighs, as Rio continued to thrust into her wildly, kissing and nibbling at her ear lobe. He slowed rhythm of his hips, letting Angel's hair go, placing small kisses down her neck and shoulders.
"You did so good for me," Rio breathed out. He softly patted at Angel's plush thighs, as he slowly pulled out. "Face me,"
Angel shifted around, laying on her back she spread her legs wide. Rio situated himself between Angel's legs. He stroked himself a few times, biting his lip at the small squelching noises he made. In one swift motion, Rio plunged himself back in, fully engulfing himself in Angel's wet pussy.
"Fuckkkkkk," Rio growled. Angel whined in response. At this angle, Rio was hitting her spongy spot way deeper than before, causing waves of pleasure to flood her entire body. "Pussy so fuckin', shit, nena,"
Both her heart and her pussy fluttered, seeing the blissed out look on his gorgeous features. Rio was always so controlled and reserved most of them, so to see him like this, guttural, borderline animalistic, Angel loved it. She began to feel him throb inside of her, he was close.
"Mhmm, I feel you, baby. I want you to cum inside me," Angel cooed as she cradled the back of Rio neck.
"Yeah? You want me cummin', inside you. Careful, now. I might fuck around and give you a baby forreal,"
Angel cupped Rio's face, kissing him deeply. She pulled away, nodding her head in a wordless confirmation. Rio's eyes softened, at the realization. He bucked his hips, in deep, desperate strokes.
"Shit! Angelita, you gonna look so good, belly fully, with our baby, fuck. I love you, Angel," He grunted, as his resolve was wearing down by the second. The midst of his brutal thrust, Angel felt another orgasm hurdle towards the surface. Her walls spasmed around Rio's dick, screaming out as she came. "Just like that, fuck, eres mio, todo mio, baby, shit,"
A few strokes were all it took to send Rio over the edge. He buried himself in Angel's neck as his blasted his cum inside of her. Rio groans were muffled against Angel's skin. He held her closed as he shook from the pleasure, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum inside of her. Angel wrapped her legs around him, she didn't want to miss a single drop.
A calmness fell over them, as the breathed in tandem, hearts following the same rhythm. Rio lifted his head up, resting his chin on Angel's chest. Warms hands rubbed soft circles against her skin. He gazed at her, nothing but love and stardust in them.
"You're gonna be a good mom," He mumbled.
Angel smiled softly, she rubbed at his shoulders. "And you're gonna be a good dad. I love you, Christopher,"
"I love you too, mama. Por siempre y para siempre."
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idkfitememate · 3 months
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Hi I was wondering if you could do a polar bear 🐻‍❄️ anon? Like reader could be just chilling in shnezyha with the Fatui and come and go as they please, but they’re enjoying being a polar bear and just snooze anywhere and everywhere, eating a fish on the floor? No, let’s eat right next to Singora’s coffin R.I.P. if not that’s ok, thx for reading!!!!
No one really knew what to do.
They all stared at the random ass polar bear that wondered into the room, in the middle of Signora’s funeral.
It was honestly baffling, and all Pierro could think about was how a few Fatui were going to get…. Let’s say fired, later.
“… What do we do..?” Childe questioned. He was - ironically- the closest to the bear and even he didn’t really feel like fighting it. As much as he and Signora “totally got along”, it would still feel mildly disrespectful to start going at it with a bear in the middle of her literal funeral.
“… I wish to take it back to my labs.” Dottore suddenly suggested, and immediately Pantalone was on his ass about it.
“Why? Whatever could you need a polar bear for?? It’s a waist if you ask me..” His disappointment was clear as day, despite the sterna smile etched into his face.
“Perhaps I could enhance its strength? Create a brand new type of creature to protect us.~” Dottore mused, his grin widening.
All conversation was halted however when a giggle rang out. Heads turned to see you gently playing with Columbina.
Your paws firmly planted on the ground as you nuzzled a blood-soaked-face into hers as you nipped at her ears.
She then took out a very dead penguin from under her coat and threw it at you, you catching it in your mouth and bending down to chow down.
You looked up after ripping a wing off the bird, offering it to her.
“Oh no, I’m alright for now my dear. Oh! But do save the large intestines. I may get hungry later, hehe!~”
Everyone stared at her as she conversed with you, a simple nod showing you understood before going back to ravaging and defiling the corpse beneath you.
“… What?” She asked now that all eyes were on her.
“… I suppose none of us were expecting you to have such an animal as a… pet..?” Capitano said, only to receive a giggle from the shorter girl.
“Oh they are no pet, simply a friend I made during a walk once.” She answered.
You lifted your head and nodded.
“Well did they have to attend?” Pierro asked, annoyance in his tone.
“Ah, I have no control ever where they go, though they have shown to have a respect for all of us.~” Giggles escaped her lips as she spoke, finding the faces of her fellow Harbingers amusing.
Pierro only sighed before continuing to speak. The funeral now continued without a hitch, even as you ate behind Columbina.
… Would the Tsaritsa ever consider making an animal a Harbinger…?
Polar Bear!Creator after revealing they can control the elements: 🐻‍❄️
The Harbingers: One of us, one of us, one of us, one of us, ONE OF US, ONE OF US, ONE OF US, ONE OF US-
The Tsaritsa: 😐 Fine
And don’t worry I love your idea!! Never be afraid to share my dear ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚ (also, do you want to be an anon? It’s a bit unclear-)
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✨ Meowpheus ✨
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Masterlist
Prompt used: "What's So Funny?", Don't Make Me Laugh
Rating: Teen and Up
Fandom: The Sandman
Pairing: Dream of The Endless/Hob Gadling
Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of The Endless, Desire of The Endless, Lucienne, Matthew
Tags: fluff, possible out of character, terrible advice, attempt at humor,
Warnings: none
Word count: 1743
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Dream of The Endless doesn't regret anything, especially if said things were forethought or downright planned. As of right now he's curled up on Hob Gadling's lap who's preparing notes for the next lesson - now and again receiving head scratches he's delighting in. And in that moment Hob's hand comes down to scratch behind his ear. Dream automatically closes his eyes and leans in. Half a minute later he lifts his hand, while chuckling at Dream's protesting meow.
If he literally purrs everytime it happens; Dream will never breathe a single word of.
Where was he? Ah, yes. He'll never go along Desire's schemes ever again. Here he is, in his cat form, unable to change. With that wretched collar around his neck he's rendered incapable of manipulating his form in any way.
Lately Dream has been wondering if this really was such a good idea. While being Hob's cat has been shockingly exceptional experience and at the same time not at all surprising. Having said that Hob's kindness and care put Dream off kilter making him feel as if he takes advantage of Hob. Which in turn is only a small piece of the whole picture considering what made him ask for his sibling's help.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Dream makes his way to the library to return a novel "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens to its rightful place. After putting it back, Dream reaches for another, this time "If I Ever Get Out of Here" by Eric Gansworth. He turns to leave only to be met with Lucienne who's expression was curious with a hint of concern. A spark of irritation lit up at being interrupted, Dream quickly puts it out. "Lucienne." He nods.
"Do you require more assistance, my Lord? Recently the number of your visits to the library have greatly increased;" his librarian inquires, "Furthermore seeing the Dreaming's overcast weather, it reveals that you, Lord Morpheus, are at an impasse, caught in indecision. Therefore have been searching for insight."
"I suppose I, indeed, have found myself at a crossroad." Dream muses, "Months have passed in the Waking since I last met with Hob...I find I wish to visit him sooner."
"What stops you my Lord?"
"Seeing how he wasn't cross with me leaving as I did in 1889. I'd like to finally tell him my name. He's long overdue." He glances away. "However I fear, if I share it, the novelty will wear off..." He hesitates, "He'll grow to realise how appalling, rotten and broken I am. He takes me to be a mystifying and outlandish being which granted him immortality. While I might be those to him, with time they would give way to the more jarring ignorant, cruel, malicious abnormality and torment."
"If I may, sir? I don't think Hob would change his opinions of you that greatly, nor do I think him capable of discarding your friendship that quickly and easily. He was the one to offer his friendship and as you pointed out - he has accepted you upon return." Dream loosens his grip on the book, not sure when he started to tighten his hold. "But if one opinion doesn't suffice my Lord, you can always turn to your family for council."
"Thank you Lucienne. I shall consider it." With a nod Dream walks out.
Lucienne sighs and walks back to her desk. Moments later Matthew lands on the lamp's neck and caws. "That went pretty well. Right? For a minute there I thought you'd get struck by lightning!"
"It might have just looked like it Matthew. In fact since his return, Lord Morpheus makes an effort to ask for help and listen to advice. The fact that it didn't take that long to get him to open up about this dilemma clearly proves that."
Matthew fidgets in place. "What dilemma? It's pretty obvious to me that both of them are head over heels in love. And I saw them meeting. From afar. The amount of sexual tension there, was just-" he shudders-"nope, too much for me, definitely. Needed gallons of holy water after THAT." Lucienne's smile widens at Matthew's antics.
"Let's hope a talk with Death will point him in right direction."
『••✎••』
Slightly dreading upcoming conversation, Dream braces himself. Although his sibling's insight might prove to be valuable. Definitely has the capacity for when not busy scheming. "Desire, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, I seek your council, may I come through?"
"Go right ahead, Sweet Dream~"
In moments Dream steps into The Threshold. "I've never known you to be able of asking for help. What is it that you desire that you came all the way from The Dreaming to little old me?" They tease with a smirk, flicking their tail lazily.
"It concerns Hob Gadling." He said narrowing his brows.
"Who is he? Should I know him? Sounds boring." Dream grits his teeth in irritation at Desire's fake obliviousness and disinterest. "You know very well who it is I speak of."
Desire dramatically pulls back and puts their hand to their chest. "You wound me Sweet Dream, I know not of who that 'Hob Gadling' is. I have other things to do than torment and plot against you; shocking I know."
"He's the immortal human I've been meeting every century. Seeing as I failed to meet him in 1989 because of you, I plan to visit him more frequently. As he still favours our friendship." Desire considers their brother's statement. " Is that his name? I always wondered. Did you say Friends?" they grin, "Your heart tells me otherwise. What I don't know is what part of this concerns me?"
"I want your scheming hands away from him." At that Desire rolls their eyes. "If that's all you needed, then rest assured I didn't come nowhere near your precious little crush. And he's feelings are his own; I didn't influence him in any way." Dream relaxes, but only a bit. He has yet to go straight to the point of this visit.
"Besides I really don't understand how that poor soul went ahead and fell in love with you. Clearly it wasn't your fashion sense that did it. I suppose I must congratulate you. He sees something in you worth loving." Desire observes Dream, takes in how Dream seems to hold something back, hesitant. "What is it that truly brings you here? Spit it out."
"I came..." If one would put a squished lemon next to Dream's face at this moment, Desire wouldn't see any difference."...for advice. In 1889 I refused Hob's friendship, which he forgave me for. Yet again I've done him a disservice by withholding my name. If I were to aspire for more, I'd have to share it. However I fear in doing so, Hob will realise the mistake he made."
Dream is insecure. Sure given his relationship history it's not even surprising. But to come to them? Hob must be special indeed. They should feel honoured; But ultimately Desire couldn't help themself and bursts out laughing. "Oh Brother! You're making me laugh - please stop." They say trying to catch their breath. "What is it that you find so hilarious, sibling? My misery?"
""What's so funny?" he asks! It's your stupidity." They cackle. "So you won't assist. I shall take my leave." "Don't be like that. But fine I'll help you test the waters. But we're doing it my way."
『••✎••』
"That's your great idea?" Dream scowls.
"Have anything better in mind?" they argue back, "In fact this includes every thing you mentioned. First - you get all the TLC your heart desires." Desire raises their index finger and then their middle one. "Second - you get to see his human everyday life. Third - you can test Hob's boundries, see his reactions when pushed and not get rejected in the process." They tap their raised ring finger in thought. Desire make a dramatic shocked face. "Ah yess!" Their pinky joins the other fingers. "Fourth, my favourite~, you get to appriciate his oh so ever, without a doubt in your mind, attractive assets." Desire purrs with a cheshire-like grin.
Dream ignores them. "I'll have to inform Lucienne of my extended absence from The Dreaming."
"See you in a moment, Sweet Dream.~"
『••✎••』
"Lucienne, I'm planning to spend some time in The Waking for foreseeable future. I wish not to be disturbed unless it requires immediate attention." Dream speaks, and in the process scares Matthew. His raven flails cawing at his sudden appearance.
"Am I to understand the conversation went smoothly, sir?" She questions unstartled.
"Perhaps. I expect to receive weekly updates from Matthew, when I'm not otherwise engaged."
"Hey Boss? Isn't staying in the Waking *caw* dangerous for you or something? *Caw* With you getting captured and all?" Matthew tilts his head.
"While your concern is touching, it is unnecessary. I'll be in capable hands." He reassures the raven and then turns to his librarian. "I'll be leaving in a few moments. I trust you to do well looking after The Dreaming."
Lucienne lowers her head. "I won't disappoint sir."
『••✎••』
"There you are Little Dream." Desire says after noticing a black cat sitting on the floor. The cat's shoots daggers their way. "What? If we're to meet Hob like this, I might as well look the part." Desire gestures at themself, then kneel down in front of Dream. "Besides that includes you too." They reveal a black collar, the bow's ribbon covered in a mockery of a night-sky pattern. Dream didn't get time to brace himself, his sibling taking advantage of his inattention, fastens the collar around his neck. "Now we're set." They pick him up. "Let's go to Hob, shall we?"
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
A temporary lapse in judgement, Dream vows not to let it happen again. Desire was right about the advantages; however they avoided telling him about the negatives - like guilt. Instead of bravely approaching Hob, he planned. To make matters worse, he went to the one sibling that likes to mess with him. Hob deserves better.
"Come on, Dream. Let's eat then head on upstairs yeah?" Hob rubs his thumb along Dream's head. Dream gives an answering meow, then jumps off Hob's lap to stretch himself.
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@fandom-free-bingo I got carried away. TwT I tried to write crack treated seriously..but I got confused along the way. And now idk if I managed that or not. :/
Tell me if rating is incorrect or other tags for that matter.
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thana-topsy · 9 months
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WIP Wednesday!
Tagged by @mareenavee ! Thank you, dear. And I know you tagged many people I might also tag, so I'll try to pick new people.
Tagging @kookaburra1701 @dirty-bosmer @viss-and-pinegar @moriche @expended-sleeper and @skyhon
---
So, I started in on this wip mostly because it was just a scenario that I wanted to see playing out in my brain. Isn't that how all writing begins? I'm not sure where it will go, if it'll ever be its own story, or anything, really. But I'm borrowing muldezgron's One-Eyed Teldryn from this fic, because he and Elanwe technically, exist in the same universe. On a collaborative technicality. Elanwe is from my fic "Hollow Men". And, of course, my unintentional muse, Kordin belongs to DirtyScrolls, who has so graciously given me their blessing to do whatever I want to him lmao. Wip below the cut, plus some art at the end:
--
“We’ve crossed paths before you know,” Elanwe said without making eye contact. Her gaze remained locked on her half-empty cup of ale. “In Windhelm. The day I–or, at least, I assume that was you. Same armor.”
Teldryn ran his tongue across his teeth then huffed a humorless laugh. “Ah, the mystery of the missing Thalmor prisoner. I was there, yes.” He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “You have quite the memory, sera. My memories from that day are… hazy, at best. Intentionally obscured by my own mind, at worst.” He drummed a finger against his own cup in agitation. “Kordin was… changed after that day. It probably goes unsaid, but he was unused to having his–” The word stuck in his throat, the hand on his knee tightening into an involuntary fist. “–his possessions taken from him.
She seemed to turn pensive, then took a long drink, draining the cup. “Did you know?” she asked sharply. “What he was doing?” 
Teldryn waited for her to meet his eye, then nodded. “I believe you know well by now what his preferred type was.”
“I’m gonna need more booze for this conversation,” she said, the skin around her mouth drawn tight, stretching the scar across her lip until it turned pale and bloodless. 
“That makes two of us,” Teldryn muttered to himself. “Get me one while you’re up. Greef, though. None of that Nordic swill.”  
Elanwe returned with two large bottles of greef, twisting the cork free of one and filling Teldryn’s cup. He offered a soft Dunmeris ‘cheers’ in response before taking a sip, letting the liquid rest against his tongue. He supposed he might as well talk about it. There was no one else to listen, as it stood. No one else who even wanted to, really. 
“I was in his service for three years,” he began. “Of course, if I’d known–” Another humorless laugh. “Well, it’s complicated.”
“Hence your prior hesitance to take on a new long-term patron, I take it.” 
Teldryn just nodded with a tight smile. “And we don’t have to dance around the subject. I know the way you Altmer are. Yes, he had his way. As often as he could. And I let him.”
Elanwe’s grip around her cup tightened. The soft curve of her lips twisted into a snarl, the corners of her eyes wet. “I wish I could kill him again. I wish–” Her jaw worked around the unsaid words.
“Like I said,” Teldryn continued after a beat of silence. “It was complicated.” 
He took a long drink, breathed through his nose, wiped his mouth on his netch leather bracer. Elanwe said nothing, the snarling distaste frozen on her face like a death mask, as if she could transmit the feeling through Teldryn and into the realm of the dead. 
Or wherever Kordin was. Teldryn was relatively sure he was in Coldharbour. 
“It wasn’t all bad, believe it or not,” he said after her prolonged silence showed no signs of ending. “Unlike your friend, I was not a literal prisoner. I had a modicum of–”
“Bullshit,” Elanwe spat. “I don’t want to hear it. So don’t even start.”
Teldryn managed to keep the surprised look from his face, and instead shrugged as casually as he could manage. “I suppose you’re right. There was always a part of me that hoped he’d… come to his senses, maybe. I was always searching for those moments of empathy. Some hint of regret… Anything.” Teldryn sighed and took another drink. “A fool’s hope. Something in that boy was broken long before he found me. But he was the Dragonborn…” Hollowness settled behind Teldryn’s sternum. “And now he’s dead.” 
Another doomed world without a prophet.
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And now they're all I can think about... WHOOPS.
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panicatthediaz · 1 year
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Whoop, here we are on part 2. I was a little too impatient to wait until Tuesday, but updates are supposed to be weekly so I can write a little bit ahead. Keeping a regular schedule is tough, y'all. [Part 1] – [Part 3]
@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @swiftiebuckleys @spectrum-spectre [Let me know if you want to be tagged!]
Pin a String to My Chest – 2
A chance meeting
He might have never been interested in anything physical, but he had eyes, and people watching was always entertaining. Sometimes, that led to watching specific people. Sometimes, those specific people took issues with his watching.
(Sometimes, some rare times, people didn't seem to mind it, much. Sometimes, it even seemed they agreed with what he had to say. It's how he ended up with the current iteration of Corroded Coffin, beyond their shared interests.)
And Eddie would notice things. He had noticed his mom stopped fighting against his father's verbal and emotional abuse, so he started doing it instead. He had noticed that some of the things he heard at school were pretty close to shit his father used to say, and Eddie simply refused to be anything like him.
It was a lot easier to be loud about shit when he realized that not everyone could be. His mom, Gareth, and that one kid he found in the school parking lot in his sophomore year. It brought the attention onto him, but he handled Richard Munson just fine, right?
He'd never expected anyone to come to his defense; loud and opinionated metalhead that decided being different actually made more sense? Yeah, right. He wasn't even considering the fact he lived in the trailer park with his uncle.
(No offense to Wayne, of course, the man knew what most of the town thought about them. He just repeatedly urged Eddie to stay safe.)
Eddie, though, was the protector of his little group; drawing attention to himself then running with it, often literally. He could take a punch or two. Had taken quite a few in this school year already.
He had taken a couple of punches just now, so Grant, newcomer to Hellfire that he was, could get home unhurt.
"Hey!" The next punch never came, and Eddie looked up to see Jackass of The Week being pulled away by none other than King Steve himself. "That's enough, get out of here."
Eddie frowned, but neither the Jackass nor Harrington were looking at him; Steve was simply staring the guy down. At least it wasn't anyone from Hargrove's little group, this whole mess would've gone oh so well…
A soft touch to his arm startled him out of his musings as Steve started moving and taking Jackass with him, and he crossed his arms over his chest on instinct.
"Oh, geez, I'm sorry!" The girl next to him exclaimed. The hallway was pretty much empty after Steve left, save for a few stragglers that were doing a terrible job of not watching them. She grimaced and added, "I didn't mean to startle you, or anything."
Eddie shook his head and glanced around. He prided himself in paying attention to the people around him, but he couldn't think of a reason why sophomore cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham would be talking to him.
"Here." She held out a tissue, offering a small smile. "You got, uh..." She grimaced once Eddie took the tissue, and gestured to his face. "You're bleeding."
And yeah, okay, he could feel the sting now that everything was calm once more. He turned to Chrissy with a faint smile, pressing the tissue to his lip and trying not to wince. It could've been worse, but the split lip was going to be annoying anyway.
"Thanks."
Her smile widened, and she was quick to say goodbye after that. Something about cheerleading practice, "not that I think you'd know much about it," but it was said without malice. It sounded somewhat like I know it's not something you're interested in and that's okay. Like I listen, actually.
Realizing, later, that Chrissy Cunningham did listen, and even seemed to consider some of the things he'd said?
It was refreshing.
Which made seeing the downward spiral that much worse.
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lupine-princess · 1 year
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She Thinks- Part 3 (Final Part)
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: M? (just to be safe, since there is discussion of sex. Also violence in later parts.)
Pairing: Female OC x ??? (it's a surprise/choose your own-ish? There is a reveal moment, but you could easily put in whoever you want I suppose)
Warnings: implied rough sex/choking/etc., torture/violence in later parts, Not Beta Read, description of Bad Sex, Brief Attempted SA, Brief Discussion of SA (more mentioning that its not happening and is not going to happen), ANGST, Character Death
Word Count: 8358 (Ummm...this one got away from me I guess...sorry again? Though the chapter length will probably be the least of the things y'all are going to want an apology...)
Cross posted on AO3 @- Lupine_Princess
Note: I am *so* sorry it took so long! The muse was playing coy and I haven't had the time to really sit down and finish this. But here is it. The conclusion to my first fic ever. I literally finished this maybe 30min before this posting, so there are probably typos, but I wanted to get this out and not agonize and nitpick for days and delay this further. Anyway, as mentioned before this is a songfic and the Song and Singer credit will be at the end before people tags. There's a bit of irony to this being sung by this particular (freaking awesome) artist, but I didn't think about that until just now. Considering this is my first fic, and I'm a nobody in the Fan Fic world, this is probably not needed, but PLEASE DON'T REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE. Last thing, this is probably obvious at this point, but this doesn't have a happy ending. It didn't go exactly how it did in my head when I was planning it, but it was never going to be an HEA. So for anyone rooting for them to be together, I am *SO* sorry. I should have made it clear in the beginning, and I didn't think about it until tonight. I really am sorry. New tags are for this chapter only, and are things I didn't expect to be a thing in this story until I wrote it. Except for the last two. They were always going to be there for this part. Thank you for reading and giving feedback for those who have, I appreciate it greatly. No idea if I'm going to do this again, but never say never right? I'll probably at the very least leave fan fiction to the professionals for a while if nothing else. lol
Alright, here we go:
Part Three
The woman recalls the six months that had passed since That Night, and can’t help but notice things that she hadn’t seen at the time. In herself, she sees how she had changed. One encounter had not been enough, obviously. She had wanted more. Of course she had. How could a person experience something so visceral, so powerful, so intense, and not want, not crave, more? Even now it baffles her that anyone could or would not understand. Not that she had really spoken to anyone about it, but there had been questions, pointed ones, about Him and That Night. She had tried her best to explain the draw in terms that would not paint her in a bad or sordid light, but it was like trying to explain a sunrise to someone who has lived in a dark room their entire lives. She knew they didn’t, couldn’t, understand, and she felt sorrow for them. She had experienced something profound and felt changed by it to her core, but they had nothing to compare it to, and so couldn’t even begin to grasp it.
Even more concerning than that though, she realizes now, she had started to think of Him in terms of being her’s. She had planned in her mind what she would say to him when he inevitably called. What she would wear on their first date. The woman didn’t count either the party or the resulting inferno of lust as their first date, for obvious reasons, but she had planned out the evening that would count in detail in her mind. She had decided that she would have to return to her Mama’s lessons regarding sex though, which meant that there would be none of that for at least a few weeks. Despite this though, the woman looked forward to seeing him again. To just being around him. She longed for it. Craved him like a drug. So much so that her distraction was remarked upon by various people. She had always smiled and waved away their concerns, but it occurs to her now that they were right to be worried. Because, as with most drugs, the high she was on would not, could not, and did not last.
When He had not called a week after That Night, the woman had gone back to the motel. Sure that he would still be there, she had knocked on the door of the room he had stayed in, and had been shocked when a different man entirely had answered the door. The man and his wife were very confused at a woman they didn’t know, in a town they were merely passing through, knocking on their motel room door. The woman was supremely embarrassed of course and had given multiple apologies for bothering the couple before going to the front desk to ask about Him. The woman stops in her reflection for a moment and scoffs at her childishness as she realizes that she refuses to even think his name now, though she cannot bring herself to forget it. The problem with this realization, however, is that she also cannot force herself to use his name, even in thought. Even now. Perhaps especially now. Now it feels less like rejecting Him and more like protecting Him.
At any rate, the woman had gone to the front desk and asked the clerk about Him. Surely, she rationalized, he wouldn’t just leave without saying something to her. He had her phone number, she knew, and she couldn’t have missed his call, because he would have left a message or called back. But the attendant had told her that He had checked out the day after the party. Hours after she had left, so had he and she felt her heart crack. The clerk had given her a pitying smile, so the woman had straightened her spine, plastered her own smile on her face, thanked the young man, and left. He hadn’t even left a note for her.
The mind is an amazing thing, the woman muses now. In effort to stave off feelings of abandonment, rejection, and humiliation, her mind had attempted to come up with a different likely scenario. He checked out a few hours after she left, hadn’t left a message for her with the front desk, and hadn’t called her, so he must have had to leave quickly. In an act of what the woman still considers extraordinary mental gymnastics, the woman had decided that He must have gotten called to another case and had to leave without time to contact her. Which meant that he was probably too busy solving a case and bringing justice to the wronged that he had not had a moment of peace long enough to call. He would undoubtably call her when he finally had a moment and the two could plan for him to come back to town for their date. Perhaps she would even break her rule on carnality once more since he was working so hard. She had felt sympathy and understanding for him at the time, but a week after her ill-fated visit to the motel and still no phone call, the woman had begun to get angry.
Perhaps he lost her phone number? Inconsiderate, yes, but not unforgivable. An honest mistake. It could happen to anyone. This led her to seeking out the acquaintance who had introduced them to in order to either get His phone number or a message to him. Unfortunately, the acquaintance was once again out of town, so that would have to wait. In the meantime, the woman had decided to start her research into Him. She really should have started that earlier, but she had been distracted. Now that she had to wait on their mutual acquaintance’s return, she had time to do what she should have done from the beginning. As she settled in and got started, she had smiled to herself at the idea that she was going to learn everything there was to know about this man that had gotten past her defenses and Mama’s Rules. She was sure, using her usual resources, she would find a treasure trove of interesting information. Birth date, parents, siblings, schools, grades, college and/or military service. Since He was a federal agent, she knew she could also find out about cases he’d worked. Commendations. Current cases. Whereabouts, even, assuming the case was high profile enough. Which it must be, given they had needed him in such a hurry.
Nothing. The woman found…nothing. Not one bit of information. At all. She had wanted to scream in frustration then, and honestly, she still wants to, but didn’t dare. She had searched records all over the country. Every state. Nothing. Not even information that could lead her to information. She had called the FBI. The most local office to her and then the one in Washington D.C. They said they didn’t have an agent of that name with them and never had. Thinking she must have had the agency wrong, she had waded through the alphabet soup that was federal agencies. Nothing. The most hopeful answer she had gotten was that they could/would not talk about employees, past or present.
The woman was starting to get the feeling, a month after That Night, that something was wrong. He still hadn’t called and she couldn’t track down her acquaintance to ask about Him. Her frustration mounted when she realized another month later that the acquaintance had to be actively avoiding her. They were spending a lot more time than usual out of town and when they were, they were never with the group of people they and the woman had in common. Further, the woman had finally realized that the story she and the group was probably false and so nothing she had been told would or could have led to any information. When she had brought this up with mutual friends of her’s and the acquaintance’s, they were confused. They had said, maybe the information was wrong, that didn’t mean it was an intentional lie, and what did it matter anyway? He was clearly just passing through. The woman had not told them, of course, about how she had spent the night after the party. They may have judged her for her indiscretion. Or worse. Told other people.
Four months after the party, the woman had gotten tired of trying to organically meet up with her acquaintance and had gone to their house. Only to find that not only were they not there, they clearly hadn’t been for quite a while. It struck the woman as odd, so she asked the neighbors when they thought the acquaintance would be back as well as how long they had been gone. They neighbors said the acquaintance had left last over a month ago and while they didn’t know when the acquaintance would return, they were getting concerned since the acquaintance had never been gone this long at once before. They would be gone for a week, two at most, and then return home. Usually, they looked like they had some kind of ailment, a limp, a sore shoulder, scrapes, cuts, even bruises, but the neighbors said the acquaintance would take a week or so to recover and then leave out again and the cycle would repeat. But this time was different.
It wouldn’t be for another two weeks after that, that the woman got some information of any kind. Though decidedly not the kind she wanted. One of the neighbors called the woman to let her know that someone was at her acquaintance’s house, but it wasn’t the acquaintance. The woman’s heart had leapt as she decided that it must be Him. He had come back and would have answers and apologies. As the woman looks back over that time, she realizes she was nothing short of delusional. Mama had told the woman, you can’t always get what you want, love. You will be denied sometimes. Rejected sometimes. But how you handle the situation, and yourself afterward, determines your future successes. Those words had never quite rung true for the woman, because she had never been denied or rejected. She had always gotten what she wanted. Now, it seemed, her luck had run out.
The woman had rushed over to her acquaintance’s house once more, eager to see Him again. When she got there however, He was not there, but an older man in a baseball cap driving a car that looked like it belonged in a junk yard rather than on the road. She had had to school her face and hide her disappointment, and replace it with concern for her friend. The older man told her, gravely, that her acquaintance had been in a hunting accident while away and he was there to clean out their house and put it on the market. She had expressed the required sorrow, sympathy, and shock, and inquired at how the man and her acquaintance knew each other, only to be told they had been ‘hunting buddies’ years ago and had made a deal with one another that whichever one ‘went first,’ the other would clean out their belongings, ‘put them to good use,’ and ‘offload the house,’ since neither had any other family.
After a bit more small talk, the woman had gone back home feeling…off. The older man had the same…presence as He did and, she had just realized in that moment, so did her acquaintance. It was an air of leashed danger and made them seem larger than life. On Him it had been incredibly sexy and massively erotic, on the older man and her late acquaintance, it made her feel anxious. Nervous. Like she needed to run away as fast as she could and not look back. She assumes now that, had she not been so ridiculously attracted to Him, she would have felt the same way in his presence. As it was, she had been so clouded by hormones that it had only heightened her interest in Him and all sense of self-preservation had flown out of the window.
Only once she was back home did she realize that she could easily have asked the older man about Him. She quickly decided to call the acquaintance’s home to try and talk to the man, but there was no answer. She called the neighbor that had called her initially, to see if they could get the older man to come to the phone, only to be told that he had left shortly after she had. The woman thanked the neighbor, hung up the phone, and threw it down the hall as hard as she could. It had taken every ounce of restraint she had, but the woman had managed to hold in her scream of rage and frustration until she could make it to her bedroom. Once there, in the safety of her room, she had snatched up the nearest pillow, held it to her face, and screamed herself hoarse. Unfortunately for the pillow, it hadn’t helped. It and two of its fellows had met grisly demises at her clawed, enraged hands. That hadn’t helped either. Not only was she still livid at her lack of luck, she had also had a mess to clean up and three pillows to replace before bedtime. It just hadn’t been her day.
The woman had indulged in a bit of a temper tantrum, stomping through her home, slamming doors open and shut, in search of her broom and dustpan, a bag to put the pillow remnants in, and extra pillows from her linen closet and guest bedroom to sleep on later that night. The actual cleaning itself wasn’t done in the most calm manner either, which only served to make the task take longer, which subsequently made her more angry. Seemed like a vicious, never-ending cycle of frustration and feathers, until suddenly the dam broke. One moment the woman was swearing a blue streak, the likes of which would have had her mouth washed out with the strongest soap available if Mama had heard her, and stuffing feathers and cloth into a garbage bag with rage filled vigor. The next she found herself sitting on the floor, still surrounded by feathers, sobbing her eyes out.
As undignified as it was, and pointless to boot, she had been unable to do anything about it. She had cried until the tears ran out and her body was weak. Too weak to move. Too weak to drag herself to her bed. She had spent the rest of the night on the floor, the occasional stray tear leaking from her eyes. When she woke up the next morning her body was stiff and she had a headache that could have put all other headaches to shame. Still, she couldn’t find the will or strength to pull herself off the floor even then. Her throat burned, and her stomach clenched around nothing. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before, and had lost quite a bit of water during her crying spree, so it made sense that she was hungry and thirsty like she had never been before. It only added to her despondency, however. Her overwhelming lack of desire to do anything at all should have concerned and motivated her to get up and take charge of her life once more, but she couldn’t even muster up enough energy to feel anything at all.
And so, she had laid there on her bedroom floor, surrounded by feather and destroyed pillows long into the afternoon and evening once again. When she had finally been able to pull herself up off the floor, she stumbled her way to her bathroom, thanking every God she had ever heard of that she had sprung for the extra-large tub, despite never having had anyone to share it with. The thought sent a pain rippling through her that she feels even now. As a matter of fact, digging through her memories of the past hurts more than anything she’s ever felt. Searching for answers she not sure she’ll ever find. She’s not even sure she wants them anymore, to be honest, but she still can’t stop herself from hunting them down like a bloodhound on a scent. Mama always said that if someone looked up ‘stubborn’ in an encyclopedia they would just see a picture of me, she remembers with a slight smile. That smile grows as she recalls that Mama actually had put her picture, not just in the encyclopedia, but also the dictionary under the aforementioned heading. It had been an inside joke between the two of them. Something that no one else would know or understand. Something that was just theirs and theirs alone. These thoughts on the back of remembered pain of that day allows for a single traitorous tear to escape her iron control.
Shaking off the feelings that have crept on her, she remembers the next days as though she is watching a movie. To totally honest, that’s how she had felt at the time. Like life was movie. Something she was only watching happen, and merely experiencing second-hand.  She can now see how she missed some very important clues, but even now she can’t exactly make sense of them. She had enough knowledge and understanding to see that she had been depressed following her epic crying spree even then, but there were some things that weren’t quite…right.
Her friends, her former lover and their wives, had begun to look at her with…pity. Even now thinking about it, the woman can help but feel indignant. They pitied her?! How dare they! She is not one to be pitied. She is better than that, she knows, and a familiar iced coated acid feeling creeps through her. With a distinctly unladylike snarl, the woman pushes the feeling away violently. It feels too much like fear and sorrow for her to accept it right now. She has better things to think about and more important issues at hand to deal with.
Aside from the unacceptable pity being directed her way, the woman recalls that the friend that had escorted her to the party That Night had also been changing. She had set him up with a few women she knew that would have been more than acceptable matches for him, but every time something had happened. The women would call her the day after the date and tell her in confused tones that he had not been the warm, hospitable gentleman they all knew him to be. Instead, he was rude and curt, almost angry. And cold. They said it was like he looked right through them, as if he didn’t have the time to even truly acknowledge they were there, until they had tried to talk to him about literally any topic, at which point they would wind up talked over, talked down to, or dismissed entirely. They all had said they had asked why he was in such a mood, only to be told it was “nothing that can’t be taken care of,” and they had then asked the woman if she had spoken to him and what they had done to deserve such treatment. Especially when the end of the date came. It seemed that despite his wholly unappetizing behavior, the woman friend had still had…expectations and made his dates very aware of them when he took them home. The only thing that could be said to his credit in the entire situation was that when the women had obviously told him they could not be less interested in anything he had to offer that night, he had simply nodded, said good night, and left. It was as if he hadn’t cared what the answer he got was either way.
Only one woman, the last incidentally, had taken him up on the offer he had made after their date. The woman recalled how the young woman’s voice had trembled slightly when she had told the woman of that night. It wasn’t anything like what the woman would have expected of her friend. Granted, she hadn’t kept track of his sex life in the past, but the young woman’s description had shocked and appalled the woman. Apparently, the cold, impersonal, overbearing demeanor her friend displayed at dinner had carried into the young woman’s bedroom. There had been no tenderness of any kind whatsoever. There had been only orders given in a hard voice accompanied by hard hands, and harder thrusts. There was no consideration at all shown to his bed partner. He had been wholly selfish, caring only for his own satisfaction, which had come blessedly quickly, and nothing for hers. The young woman had admitted over the phone that once he was done, he had appeared to want to stay for another round, but she had asked him to leave, not being able to stand another disappointing romp like the first. He had shrugged and left without a fight, but not before throwing a crude, “Thanks for the ride,” over his shoulder before the door shut.
The woman couldn’t believe her friend’s behavior. She had resolved not to set anyone else up with him until she could deal with him herself, which she had intended to be a few days later. Unfortunately, the day after the phone call with the justifiably unhappy young woman was the day the woman had found out about her acquaintance’s death and things had spiraled from there. Finally, things with the woman and her friend had come to a head about a month after her pillow destruction and crying jag. He had come over the woman’s home, with the stated intention of checking on her and seeing how she was, what had happened, and how he could help.
At the time that woman had been grateful, but even then she had noticed that something in his demeanor, hadn’t matched his words. Maybe it was his eyes. Always before, they were warm and caring when they looked at her. On that day, she felt like she understood what they women she had sent on dates with him had meant by ‘cold,’ It was like staring into frozen stones. Beautiful stones, the woman is willing to admit even now, like diamonds, or some other gemstone, but hard and cold all the same. Remembering those eyes sends a shiver down the woman’s spine and her throat tightens with fear.
Pulling her focus from his eyes, the woman returns her thoughts to the conversation they had had. Conversation, ha! the woman scoffs, that wasn’t a ‘conversation.’ His visit had been going well at the very beginning, despite the unnerving feeling of wrongness that had been crawling across her skin, when things had hit the proverbial fan. He had asked why she was so “down” lately, and the woman had thought that finally she could talk about the situation with someone who could understand. That wasn’t what had happened. The moment she had mentioned Him her friend had suddenly sparked to life like a firework in a spectacular explosion.
She was honestly still confused to this day about the sudden change in him. Not just with her, but with the women she had set him up with and even other people around town. It seemed like over night he had gone from the kind, funny, helpful, and understanding man they all knew and loved, to a cold, unfeeling man who thought nothing of other people and had a hair trigger temper. At the time she hadn’t noticed the changes as they happened, but that day in her home, she saw what everyone had been talking about. It had been shocking to say the least.
The woman still shudders when she remembers the look in his eyes as he raged at her. He had ranted about her fixation on Him, calling her a “pathetic, delusional whore,” and while she was reeling from that verbal barrage, he had continued raving about how her manipulative ways would come back to haunt her and that she needed him to straighten her out by any means necessary. Those had been his exact words actually. “By any means necessary.” She had been confused, shock, and more scared than she had ever been before. Even more than that one pregnancy scare between high school and college. Nothing had come of it, obviously, but she had taken that lesson to heart every bit as much as she took Mama’s lessons to heart. Since then, there had been no scares, and so very little to fear. It isn’t that she doesn’t want children even now, it just hasn’t ever been the right time, not to mention that she wasn’t and still isn’t married. The scandal of an unmarried mother may have lessoned with the times, but that did not mean that it was entirely gone. That and this town is a bit behind the times in general, the woman admits, somewhat begrudgingly. It had never been a problem for her before, in fact she was more than capable of making that state of affairs work for her rather than against her. The antiquated way of thinking that surrounded her had paid off greatly for her, so it had never been in her interest to challenge it overtly.
Off topic again, dammit, the woman growls at herself. Forcing herself to focus on that day, she shudders once again. From cold or fear she isn’t sure. She remembers how she had listened to her friend rail against her while she stood frozen, right until the point he had grabbed her upper arms, slammed her into one of her living room walls, and kissed her. Kissed?! Please! she scoffs, if that was a kiss then the lion must love the gazelle! And not as food! She can almost still feel his lips on hers. Teeth digging in to her flesh. Tongue forcing its way into her mouth. It was violent and painful, and decidedly not in a way she enjoyed. Just as she gagged on his probing tongue, her shocked mind had finally caught on and reacted to what was happening. He was pulling at her blouse, her knee, of its own volition it seemed, jerked up and none too gently landed squarely on his testicles. At the same moment, she expressed her displeasure with the tongue in her mouth by biting down. Hard. She had never thought blood would taste any way other than vile, but in this instance, it tasted sweet. Like victory.
His howl of pain wasn’t too shabby either, she remembers with a smirk. The smirk fades quickly when she recalls the enraged look on his face and the slap that followed. Stunned once again, her ears ringing, she only vaguely heard the names he screamed at her before he slammed out of her house, leaving with a slight limp. The woman had breathed a shaky sigh of relief that it was over and briefly considered calling Jordan and filing a complaint against her friend and asking for an officer to give her an escort her to and from work and home for a few days, or at the very least just to have someone aware of what had happened and give some advice on what she should do. Then she realized for advice she might be better off calling Brian, even though he would probably tell her to press charges, which she didn’t want to do. Her thought was that if she called Jordan and made a complaint, an officer would go and talk to her friend and make him stay away from her. If her friend ignored the officer’s warning, there would already be a record of what happened so things would be taken care of more quickly.
In the end, she decided not to call either Jordan or Brian. She honestly felt that this was just a hiccup for her friend. He was obviously going through something and a police presence in his life wouldn’t be helpful for him to get out of it. While the woman would never again trust her now former friend, nor would she want him around her, she still wanted what was best for him and to see him do well. Even a whisper of impropriety in which the police were involved could, and likely would, destroy his business, his credibility, and really his life in their town. He also probably wouldn’t be able to start over in a new area either, unless it was quite far away, which would cost more money than he would wind up having. She couldn’t bring herself to risk that happening to him. Not for the man he had become, but for the boy and the friend he been.
Despite her resolve, she had felt a nagging in the back of her mind urging her to tell someone what happened. She had felt it for days. After a week of the feeling, she finally decided the when she got home that night, she would call Zachary. Practical and pragmatic, Zachary would know how to handle things while being discrete. Her now former friend might wind up a bit worse for wear, but as long as he didn’t bother her, or any other woman if she knew Zachary as well as she thought she did, his life would go on overall uninterrupted. If he didn’t…well…people left town all the time without telling anyone else, presumably moving on to bigger and better things while avoiding awkward questions, especially if they had the kind of money her ex-friend had. What was one more person, right?
She had considered calling for an escort home that night, but decided against it. While it wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, it would still bring up more questions than she was prepared to answer at that moment. Instead, she had finished out her day, long after her colleagues had gone home to their families, thinking not about the conversation she was going to be having when she got home, but rather about how much she longed to have what they had. A husband, someone who supported her and was her partner in every sense. Love. Babies. The perfect apple pie, white picket fence with a dog in the yard life. No, it wasn’t for everyone, but it was what she wanted. She had realized that she was lonely and tired of living her life the way she was. She wanted to settle down, and using Mama’s lessons and rules, the woman was sure she would find the perfect mate for herself the same way she had for others in her life. She understood it may take longer for her than it had for them, because she knew she was more…selective than they were, but she knew it would happen sooner rather than later. And so, with thoughts of white dresses, bassinets, and lullabies in her head, she walked to her car to go to her lonely, empty home with a resolved smile on her face.
She should have called for the escort.
The only thing she could remember was a soft rustling behind her, not unusual given the trees around the parking lot, then a sharp pain in her neck. Everything went black almost immediately. Almost. Just before the inky blackness descended, she caught a glimpse of a man. Her now ex-friend. And on his face was the most sickeningly sinister smirk on his face.
When she woke, she was on a bed. Her neck hurt, her head was screaming, and her vision was blurry. She had no idea where she was and her heart was racing in fear of the unknown. Naturally, she jumped to her feet to begin trying to figure out not only where she was, but also to find a way out of this place. Unfortunately, while she was able to get up without issue, she quickly realized that where didn’t matter nearly as much as what, and what was some kind of concrete room. No windows. One door. Metal. Undoubtedly heavy, and absolutely locked. She was trapped. The only way out was that one door, and she knew the only way it would open was if…when her ex-friend came into the room. He would be ready for anything she might throw at him, of course, so her chances of escape were very slim. She could only hope at that point that he would do what ever he was going to do, then let her go. She categorically refused to entertain any thoughts about what he might be planning beyond hoping that he would ultimately let her go.
She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, and so had no idea what time it might be. She only knew that she was incredibly hungry and thirsty. Almost as soon as the thought had entered her head, however, a flap she had missed on the bottom of the metal door opened and a something was pushed through. On inspection, she saw that it was two pieces of bread and a paper cup of water on a tray. In her hunger, she snatched up the bread and devoured it, before gulping down the water. It barely took the edge off, but at least it was something.
She jumped when the flap opened again and the tray was yanked through in the opposite direction as before. Upon realizing that someone (she could easily guess who) on the other side of the door had known the tray was empty and had taken it back, she started to talk. Well…less talk, more yell. Questions abounded. Answers were demanded. None were given. She refused to plead, so decided instead to bargain. Assurances that if he only let her go, she would never tell anyone about this occurrence. They would get him help with whatever was going on with him. She would help him. The bargaining ceased when she heard, barely, another door, further away, close. He clearly wasn’t interested in what she had to say and had left.
And so, things had gone for what she could only assume were the next 4-5 days. Three times a day the flap in the door would open, two pieces of bread beside water in a paper cup on a tray that was retrieved as soon as the three items where removed. She had continued to try and talk to him. She still wouldn’t plead and would die before she begged, but she asked for answers and bargained to the best of her considerable abilities. She even lied. Lied like it was her job. It is, or was, but it seems uncouth to say the quiet part out loud like that, the woman muses with semi-forced humor. Forced because there is nothing even remotely amusing or humorous about this situation. She had yet to get any answers, let alone any interaction whatsoever beyond the push of the tray and its retrieval.
Throughout it all, the woman imagined her life outside of this place. The things she would do once she got out of here. The places she would go. She knew now that there was nothing in this town any more. She knew everyone and none of them were to her standard for a husband, though that standard had somewhat lowered in her time in the large concrete box that was her current residence. She thought she might try to find Him, but she had no idea where to even start. Maybe she could find that older man that had been at her acquaintance’s house that day, but she was struggling with remembering him name. Usually she was good with names, but between the high emotions she had been feeling at the time and shortly after, coupled with the knowledge that he wasn’t staying, and her current fear, hunger, and dehydration…well, simply put her mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. Even now, she casts around in her mind for that name. Ronald? Richard? No. Not an R. Not an R…a…B? Yes! B…something! the woman recalls excitedly. A breakthrough finally! B. B. Brandon? No. Bartholomew? Absolutely not. Shorter…Bill? Billy? Billy! she decides. She’s still not entirely sure she’s right, but she can’t be bothered with that reality right now, because frankly, she desperately needs even that small win.
Because her circumstances had changed. And not for the better. She couldn’t be sure how long ago it was really, but it had to be a day or two there had only been two trays. The first had half of the rations she’d been getting which, while they hadn’t been nearly enough before, she really couldn’t afford to lose. She spent the day curled up on the bed, shaking with hunger pangs worse than ever before. Her throat burned and her head pounded. When it can to about the time that the second tray would be delivered, she had pulled herself up and over to the door to wait patiently. She had waited in vain. The tray never arrived. The disappointment had nearly crashed her and her resolve wavered. Wavered, but did not collapse, thankfully. Her disappointment coupled with the overall insufficient food, however, had left her unable to go back to the lone source of comfort in the room. For hours, she laid on the floor in front of the flap, willing it to open and provide her with a nourishing, filling meal. Eventually, her will prevailed and the flap indeed opened. The tray was passed through and upon it, while not the meal she wanted, were the standard two bread slices and paper cup with water. She had sighed in relief.
Naturally, she tore into the bread and gulped the water in a most unladylike manner, but she didn’t care. She was quite literally starving. It wasn’t until she noticed that the tray hadn’t been retrieved that the thought that something might be a bit suspicious about this particular meal. That’s when the first wave of dizziness had swept over her and she felt herself falling backward. She heard more than felt her head hit the cold concrete floor, and mused that it would probably hurt when she woke up. If she woke up. The last thing she was aware of was the heavy metal door opening and her now very much EX-friend walking into the room. The same sinister smirk smeared across his face. She was all but certain that this was her last moment.
But she was wrong. Although on further reflection she wasn’t exactly sure that was good thing. She had woken on the bed again. But this time was different. She was naked. And bound. Shackled actually. As soon as she realized the vulnerable state she was in, she immediately began shivering. Cold and fear. Fear and cold. The war between the two feelings was never fully won by either, so they traded off for the role of most prominent. Outweighing even the burning thirst and vicious hunger. Something she hadn’t thought was possible, but now she knew she was wrong about that, too.
And so, it is. Since the moment she had woken up chained to this bed, naked as the day she was born, she hasn’t moved, hasn’t been able to, other than the occasional shift or to bang her head back in frustration. She is more uncomfortable than she has ever been. Her arms and shoulders ache, but had largely stopped hurting other than a sharp twinge here and there, which honestly would have concerned her if it weren’t for the entire situation as a whole, but things being what they were, she can’t be bothered to care. Other than to be grateful that part of her discomfort has ended. The rest though is all but unbearable. Because she can’t get up and pace like she normally would when she got bored, she has to lay there with her mind spinning desperately searching for something, anything, to alleviate the boredom. She can’t warm herself or at least cover up with the blankets, so she is fully exposed, which is a different kind of discomfort, but still valid, and she is freezing. She is losing feeling in her feet and legs, though whether that is because of the tight bonds holding them to the bed immobile, or the frigid cold, she can’t tell. She also hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since ingesting the clearly drugged bread and water. The only silver lining, if it can be called that, to that particular issue is that she has stopped feeling the thirst and the hunger. Either because they have disappeared, or because she has gotten so used to them, she has no idea. And to add insult to injury, because she is chained down so securely, she can’t reach the single hole in the far corner of the room that had been serving as her toilet this whole time. She is filthy, having had not opportunity to bathe since she had been brought to this place, and now she was covered in her own waste. If there was anything at all beneficial about starving and being critically dehydrated, it was the fact that particular indignity had all but ceased as well. Again, something she would ordinarily be concerned about, but in her nearly delirious state, she can’t force herself to look passed the fact that she isn’t getting any dirtier.
Somewhere in her mind she knows, though. She knows that she is not long for the world and that her time now is likely being counted in hours and minutes, rather than days, weeks, and years. As that simultaneously depressing and comforting thought skips across her mind, she hears the metal of the door clang, creak, and open. Her heart leaps to her throat. Fear yes, but it’s also been so long since she’s seen anyone else face, she doesn’t care that it’s the face of the man she used to think was her closest friend. The relief is short lived. As he enters, he begins to talk. And the things he says…he tells her that while her absence has been noted, no one actually cares. The town gossips hiss to each other that it’s probably her own fault and that it’s likely for the best. Her friends don’t feel that way of course. They are saddened by her sudden disappearance, “What a pity,” they say, “what a loss.” But ultimately, they can’t be bothered to put forth any real effort into finding her. They are wrapped up in their own lives and won’t bestir themselves to much on her behalf. Even the police investigation into her disappearance was token at best.
Her outrage at the knowledge that she has been cast aside and forgotten by those she benefited and benefited from the most is tempered only by pain. Because while he talks, the man wearing her friend’s face, for that is how she thinks of him now, (they can’t be the same man. He can’t have changed this much. she tells herself trying desperately to soothe and distract), he cuts. He carves. Red lines racing over ever inch of flesh. During his monologue about how all of her insipid dreams are all for naught, he makes her bleed. Sometimes he lays down the blade for another implement, each is a new level and type of pain she had never thought to experience, but he always returns to the shiny, straight metal and continues his “artwork” as he calls it.
He tells her over and over that if she had just noticed him, given him the time, accepted him, loved him, he would have given her everything she ever wanted. A home, warm, welcoming, and safe. Love. Acceptance. A partner. Children. Beautiful babies to sing to and tell stories and teach and play with. He would and could have given her everything. On a never-ending loop he berates, belittles, and taunts her. Her friends don’t need or miss her. The town she thought she ran is still running and better in the one week she’d been gone than it ever had under her watch. Her home had already been emptied out, her belonging stored until an auction could be arranged, and the building itself already sold. No one had wasted any time completely erasing her from their lives and the town. She will never leave this room. All of her dreams and ambitions will end here with her. She will never have a husband in her arms or a child on her hip. Her memory, such as it is, will swiftly fade for everyone and when someone does think about her it will be with pity before they shrug off the thought and move on with their lives. And all because she had chosen some man, some stranger, she didn’t even know over him. If she had chosen him that night, instead of “whoring around” with Him, she wouldn’t be laying here right now. She would be safe in bed with him, her friend and new lover, dreaming of wedding bells and strollers, but instead she decided to make the wrong choice, once again, and he would make sure it was the last one.
The woman’s heart breaks over and over and over as a man she used to love as family tears her apart physically, mentally, and emotionally. The one thing, the one line he didn’t cross, was that he had not touched her. He hasn’t violated her in that way. It was one experience she was assured she wouldn’t have, but not because he wouldn’t cross that line, but because she “she didn’t deserve” him and she was “even too filthy for” him. She got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the layers of dirt and refuse she had accumulated, but she can’t find it in herself to care. It doesn’t even necessarily make sense really. She is going to die. She knows it. She has known it, but somehow, she takes solace in that one thing. And if her dalliance with Him had been what prevented that act from taking place, she can and will find it in herself to be grateful for that even though this whole thing is His fault.
The woman loses and regains consciousness several times over the course several hours. Every time returning to the waking world to hear her Not Friend ranting like a mad man, laughing at her pain, and layering more and more of it one top of the other. She has long since broken her vow against crying not to mention screaming, but can’t beg, not coherently at least, even if she wants to. Since she had woken chained up on the bed, she had been securely gagged. A gag that had now been soaked in blood and other bodily fluids generated during her ordeal. If she could, though, she would beg. She would beg him to have mercy and let her die. She knows that’s a fruitless wish though. He has no mercy. Not for her at the very least. He has made that perfectly clear time and again.
Finally though, finally, blessedly, she feels the end, the Reaper, Death himself, approach. She almost sighs in relief, but holds herself back just in case her Not Friend finds a way to bring her back from the brink. The thought of this agony, this hell, continuing cannot be borne and she prays one last time once again to every God she’s ever heard of that this really will be the end. She can still hear her Not Friend rant, though now it is muffled, like someone talking from far off. He is asking questions now. Demanding answers she hopes he doesn’t expect her to give. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Not that she does want to. Maybe if he gets angrier, this will end quicker. Either way, at this point anything that makes him unhappy pleases her. Probably twisted, but no less true. Slowly, she turns her head toward him, very purposefully. She can actually feel her heart slowing and see the final darkness at the edges of her vision. She has nothing to lose anymore. She doesn’t care anymore. It makes her brave in her last moments.
Again, her Not Friend demands an answer to his question. Her Not Friend wants His name. Apparently, he can’t remember it, and for some reason it’s important to him. He also wants to know what she knows about His whereabouts. She can’t imagine why. Still, one last push and it’s over. And it’ll do her slowing heart good to see him stymied one last time. She is dying and he is the one killing her. She is entitled to be a bit mean she feels. And so, strength fading quickly, the woman grins around her blood and spit-soaked gag showing bloody cracked teeth, and very intentionally, deliberately, slowly turned her head away from him. His rage was hysterical. If she could, she would have laughed, though one thing does confuse her. Just before he is out of her sight for the last time, she would swear she saw his eyes flash black. And there isn’t enough blood in her body for her brain to work properly, so she probably imagined it, she reasons quickly. It doesn’t matter anyway. The darkness the had been on the edges of her vision has almost completely covered it. Her Not Friend’s screams and yells mean nothing to her anymore. But one thing does. She can’t believe it, but she wants her last thought to be of the man who ruined everything. The man who made her feel alive and got her killed. Him. Slightly resigned to her own sentimentality, but resolute nonetheless, she calls up his image in her mind. How he looked went she first saw him That Night, but also when she last saw him, asleep, hair a mess, back covered in red lines, justifiably exhausted. She smiles to herself one last time, and with her last heartbeats, her last precious moments, she thinks
His name was John.
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Song Credit- Reba McIntire "She Thinks His Name Was John" (side note: this song is about something very different and very real, and I have the utmost respect for that and Ms. McIntire for doing it in the first place. This fic came about because I binge watched Supernatural after listening to this song and my sleeping brain mashed them together. It turned into a massively rabid plot bunny that I had to write. But go listen to the song and prepare fore chills at the very least. I tried to do it justice, but I'm not sure how successful I was.)
Please comment and let me know what you think now that its complete. Good or bad, I don't care, but please be nice about it. Constructive criticism instead of flames. And I don't feed trolls. I block them.
@kittenofdoomage @holylulusworld @impala-dreamer @imanuglywombat
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oncforallxbroccoli · 1 year
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Unprompted Mun Ask (always accepting) || Anonymous asked:
((hey, just to be clear, You are ok to play in Crossovers, meaning established worlds and stories from other anime/shows/books, but would rather avoid AU's, meaning original build worlds and lore, right? I would hate to put you in an uncomfortable position by liking for a starter that you don't want to be in, if I understood that correctly. Just trying to respect your flow.))
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((I'm taking a guess that this is in response to this ask.
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I'm sorry if that's how that was worded... I was kinda distracted playing OW2 when I was working on that, and only managed to type it between games before posting.
But no.. I do love AUs -- it's just sometimes it is hard working and create the lore for said AUs. Especially creating them by yourself. Since in some AUs you have to change something about a character to make the AU work better.
In fact, I do have a few AUs written up with threads for others in my drafts for both Izuku and my Katsuki muse.
But like for example; take Katsuki and putting him into an AU where Quirks don't exist or one where he was born Quirkless. How would not having a Quirk impact his character?
Cause to me... Katsuki not having a Quirk would leave a pretty huge gap on his character. Like he'd still be confident -- but he wouldn't be OVERLY CONFIDENT. There would be no reason for others to praise him as a LITERAL CHILD for being a walking explosive. They could still do that because of his intelligence -- but a lot of praise he received as a child was about "how strong and flashy his Quirk was". Not to mention, his relationship with Izuku wouldn't have been bad (meaning no bullying) because there would be no reason for him to want to "push Izuku out of his life".
Or if you take Izuku and put him into an AU where Quirks don't exist.. meaning a world with NO PRO HEROES!!! How would that impact his character? Because .. a good part of Izuku's character is him having knowledge about heroes and their Quirks. Like in canon... he was the first, and only one, who immediately realized that Aizawa was the "Erasure Hero: Eraser Head".
The rest of 1A were more or less like "who?" or "I think I've heard his name before". While Izuku the moment that that Aizawa said that he had "erased" his Quirk -- and seeing the goggles -- put two and two together. Meaning that his knowledge of heroes went beyond those heroes in public eye. That he knows about / had knowledge (even if it wasn't as vast) about those who tended to "avoid making media appearances".
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Like in this scene... Izuku's reaction -- had he only known "rumors" about Eraser Head would've been written more akin to him only hearing rumors. Like it was written for his classmates when they were talking about Eraser. Which means that despite them "hearing things" about the pro hero: Eraser Head. None of them but Izuku ACTUALLY looked into and confirmed for themselves if those rumors were actually true.
The rest of 1A only seemed to know that there was a "angler-type pro hero" on the scene. But didn't know what said hero's quirk was / did.. or only vaguely knew his name.
Whereas.. in straight up crossover threads -- and I mean threads where it's literally taking Character A and throwing them and all of their powers / abilities / etc into Character B's universe. Either by a power / machine / etc ... is usually easier to do threads.
But also ... I come from the early times of tumblr rp (the earlier to mid 2010s) when two characters from two different fandoms could interact and most people didn't really bat an eye about it. And hell, sometimes AUs / muse relationships are created FROM what was supposed to be a simple little thread that was a silly, goofy one-off interaction.
Like for example; back when I rped Toph Beifong -- I interacted with muses that were wrestlers. But .. I didn't have proper information for Toph in a modern setting. So I literally just threw Toph -- as she was (a blind earthbender) -- at people who rped wrestlers. And those were some of my favorite interactions that I had with Toph.
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creationofacentury · 1 year
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Tiny Problem - P4
Summary: The Empires are here! How would mini hermits react? (This is far ahead on the timeline from P3. Come with me on today’s brainrot: the daily dose of mini hermits!)
Character: Renthedog, SolidarityGaming, Grian, GoodTimeWithScar, Zadaph(mentioned), BDoubleO100(mentioned), XBcrafted(mentioned), and the mini hermits! Tom is also mentioned.
Relationship: None! Only friendship...? (Tom is too popular.)
Note: This fanfic is strictly about their MC personas, DO NOT take this seriously! Do not harass them with these works.
Dolly is Doc’s youngling. Tom...Tom is Jevin’s canonical child. And the time sets in the Hermit-Empire crossover. The Empire fellows are on the HC server!
-
01. Uncle Jimmy Solidarity
“Gregg! Who’s my favorite little fella!?”
“Tim, I swear- stop putting him on your head!”
“He likes it!”
“He would fall!”
“But he can fly, Grian, you can’t deny his rightful access to the sky! He’s born to fly!” Jimmy gushes at Gregg while Gregg joyously giggles, almost fall from Jimmy’s head. “Who’s born to fly? You!”
“That’s not- what? No, Tim, I don’t forbid him from flying! I supervise his flying sessions, but if you put him on your head he would fall!”
“Oh,” Jimmy muses, “how do you know, Grian? Maybe he could just fly back up.”
“Common sense, Tim! I am not taking any chances!”
Ariana, sitting amongst the chest-monster, pipes up, “Dad tried taking Gregg flying once. Gregg was really excited and he fell from Dad’s head while they were in the air.”
Jimmy looks at Grian, stunned.
“...Shut up,”
“I didn’t say anything-”
“Just shut up!”
-
“Did Gregg actually crash?”
“No, of course not. Bdubs catches him.”
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02. They grow up so quick...wait, slow down, too quick!
Is that his- oh thank goodness finally! Ren rushes forward and hugs his little boy. “Gosh, Rennie, where have you been?!”
“I- Dolly said there were new kids on the server, I just wanted to see!” Rennie says, struggling to get out of Ren’s suffocating hug. He’s a big boy now, this is really embra- embare- embarrassing, like what Ariana said the other day.
“Without telling me first? I searched everywhere, I was so worried!”
“Sorry, Dad...”He does hate it when Dad is upset...Oh, right, he almost forgot, “Anyway, this is my boyfriend Tom-”
“WHAT?!”
-
“Whose kid is this?!”
“Uncle Jevin?”
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03. Teenagers. Except they are not supposed to be.
“Pa,”
“Yes, my precious?”
“Hmmm.”
Scar frowns, “What happened? Is something making you sad?”
Scarling huffs and turns his head away.
“What’s going on? Are you mad at me?”
Scarling doesn’t turn. “I hate my name.”
Scar stares at Scarling, shock written all over his face.
“What?”
“Other kids have better names.”
"What makes you say that?”
“I don't know, Pa, maybe it’s because my name is “Scarling” and you left me with Griande and literally gone for two month?”
“But I- I left you in the nursery! If she’s saying things-”
“What do you want me to do, Pa? Play with Ed? Uncle XB was going mad taking care all of us!”
“Hey that’s not the attitude you talk about your fellow-”
“Ed made a TNT duper to break out of the nursery! I am not playing with him!”
“Imagine how your uncle Zed would feel if he heard you said that!”
“I don’t care! I want a new name and I don’t want to play with Ed!”
“Oh YOU- you are GROUNDED young man!”
“Fine!”
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Previous - P4 - Next
Notes:
For context (it’s been a while, so), back in May I was obsessed with the egg hunt and the mini hermits, so I wrote a little series about mini hermits call Tiny Problem.
I now imagine Ariana being the big kid on the server, and like. Every mini hermits has to listens to her and everything. The mini hermits have since grown up a little bit, though not yet teenagers...I just don’t know how to write children. There’s a time gap here, I would (probably) explain it in the future chapters.
As always, tell me if you spot any grammar problems or typos! Also, I would really appreciate comments and stuff! Thank you for reading this far!
Edit: I think this fic is blocked, because the it doesn’t show in tags...and I linked it in other post, and it also didn’t show. So I did some edit.
Edit 2: HOLY COW IT WORKS. I think I had some phrasing problem, and the sentence probably sounded really bad...But I fixed it! Yay!
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yuriko-mukami · 2 years
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📝
📝
📝
More Memories
📝- A memory of them getting to know/meeting my muse
(( I literally wrote this from their first meeting but this time I tried mostly to tap into Yuriko’s thought process during it since we both know what happened. I kind of wanted to open up more about what went through her mind back then. I hope this works for you.
And oh my! I can’t even tell you how grateful I’m because of this ask! I loved writing this, even though I’m not sure if the text makes any sense since it’s mostly just Yuriko’s flowing thoughts… but somehow going back to that moment made me feel very nostalgic. Ahhhhhhh!
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Yuriko was drawing circles to her notes when she suddenly felt like someone was staring at her. She straightened up, turning her head slightly and gazing at the desk behind her through her bangs. Steel-blue eyes pierced hers as a confident smirk climbed on the lips she instantly noticed. Blinking, she turned back, this time staring at the teacher but her thoughts went whirling, pushing the topic of the ongoing class away from her mind.
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This library is huge but I just had to come here for the first thing, the classes won’t start yet and well… It’s not like I’m going to make friends anytime soon. Maybe it’s even better if I stay out of everyone’s way. 
Oh, but so many books! And I truly love this atmosphere! The night school is a bit of trouble… Oh my… I’m actually very tired right now. How on earth I’m supposed to keep my eyes open during classes through the night? I mean… If I was reading an interesting book, it wouldn’t be a problem but… eh… homeroom, English classes, math… But I need to pull through everything, I just have to! I can’t fail now…
Where should I start? I don’t have that much time so… maybe I check that back corner first, it looks like there are the most interesting books… Hmmm… Why is it so dim here? Oh, but… Yes, I was correct. These books are truly something. My earlier school didn’t even have these titles! At least that is a good thing… Maybe I can enjoy this school year. I can read these in between schoolwork, no need to distract myself with other matters. Dad will be happy if I only study and read… No trouble this time and no skipping classes. I’m going to succeed…
"Ou-ouch!"
What did just happen? I hit on something... Eh? A person... Such stern and cold eyes... full of... despise?
“Oh my gosh! I… I’m so sorry…”
Oh no… Oh no… Oh no… He looks so angry. I’m going to… Ehhh… my cheeks are burning! Not now! This is bad. Why do I always do something stupid like this?
“Can you not pay attention? What clumsy livestock you are… And you call that a proper apology? I should teach you manners.”
What? How rude he can be? Did he really call me livestock? Nobody uses that kind of language when they speak to others… and I apologized. Why is he so mad at me? Why is the first person I meet in this school such an annoying and scary young man? He is the one who needs to learn some manners!
“What are you even doing in this section? Shouldn’t an average woman like you look for a book in the fairy tale section? These books here are definitely too demanding for you.”
“Umh…” He… I can’t believe it… “I am very sorry… I… I… should have watched… erm… where I was going. But… it isn’t truly your business… what I’m doing here…”
I'm flaring up… So embarrassing! I must leave now! NOW! Immediately!
Why aren’t my legs moving? He is getting closer!
Oh my…! Why is he grinning like that? I must… take a step back. Please, stop! Don’t come so near me!
Ouch! Gosh, I forgot that there was a bookshelf behind me. I… I… now I can’t even go anywhere and he is…
“Please excuse me, Livestock. I am sorry. But I could not understand you. For some reason, you seem to lose your voice. Could you please repeat what you said? I just want to make sure you really said it is none of my business.”
My heart can’t take this! My first night here and I have already drawn the wrong kind of attention. Oh gosh, his eyes! Those eyes… they are so… like ice… I… I… I…
“What is it?”
What is he doing, grabbing my chin like that!?!? HIS FINGERS ARE SO COLD! Why can’t I stop to stare at his eyes? This is bad, so bad…!
“You are not afraid of me, are you?”
I TOTALLY AM! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM? Why does he treat me like this! He has no right! 
Eh? Was that the bell?
“See you, Livestock.”
He… just… left….
Right…? The bell! I must go too! Gosh, this is terrible! I hope I won’t run into him anymore…
A sudden sound made Yuriko snap out of her thoughts. The bell!
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The last class had just ended. She started to collect her things hastily, memories still floating through her mind. So many things had changed after the steel-blue eyes had pierced her for the first time. Judging by how they have met, it was so hard to believe where they had ended up. 
“Let us go, Yuriko,” the soft voice said as a hand picked up her school bag. When she rose from her chair, cool fingers entwined with hers, and Ruki pulled her with him. 
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(( I guess this is a good time to mention (just in case someone else is reading this) that Rukiko story is separate from Yuriko’s canon story. That’s why this first meeting is different from what happened in her Dark. I haven’t written Ruki’s lines in this scene because I took them from an RP @ask-ruki-mukami and Yuriko have going on in private, so all credit for those goes to Ruki’s admin.
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allelitemuses · 1 year
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From various portals, Wario, Waluigi, Cable, Wolverine, Bridget, and Shadow emerged. The Wario Bros. and Shadow used their natural fighting abilities to deal with the onslaught of goons while Cable, Wolverine, and Bridget used their weapons and powers, aided by people like Team RWBY and the Investigation Team.
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A bunch of the soldiers found themselves being suddenly lifted in the air. As they did, Tatsumaki floated out of a portal and sneered, slamming them all into the wall. Saitama then casually walked through the portal, with an expression that looked to be a mix of unimpressed and annoyed.
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"Oh, no... don't you start the party without us!" Luffy, Brook, and Zoro emerged with Luffy stretching his arms out and taking out multiple soldiers and assassins with punches. Brook and Zoro drew their swords and charged in.
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"Oh, no, you are not upstaging us!" Nearby, however, Naruto, along with Gaara, Hinata, Inojin and Iwabee, burst out of a portal. Hinata scanned the field using her Byakugan, while Naruto used his Multi Shadow Clone Jutsu. Gaara sent out his living sand which messed with Goh and his army in various ways... together with the Pokemon, Stands, and assortments of other powers, there were numerous upon numerous ways a person working under Goh could die on the battlefield today.
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"Pah, you're really gonna send an old ape like me out here to do this? You youngsters really are something else, you know that?" Cranky Kong, with Funky Kong following, slowly walked out of a portal and observed the field, not liking what he was seeing. "Look at this! It's a mess! How is anyone supposed to follow a disorganized pile of characters like this? This nonsense makes the Avengers look organized! Boy, I remember the simpler times when it was just one main muse and maybe some NPCs to fill out the story..." But as he was ranting, a massive flame burst erupted from the portal where Mario, Luigi, Wario, and Waluigi emerged from as some soldiers approached it. From that portal then emerged none other than Bowser, who roared and made a beeline for any of Goh's men he could find. Eggman then emerged from Sonic's portal, and King K. Rool emerged from Cranky Kong's portal, both with weapons drawn and ready to fight. They joined the others like Heavy, who were also using guns to mow down enemies.
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Cranky Kong wasn't the only old character to appear, though. Yoda emerged from a portal elsewhere and used his lightsaber and Force abilities to cut down the enemy forces. After he entered the fray, soldiers near that portal got a sudden, sharp sense of fear and dread... and soon, a red lightsaber ignited, and Darth Vader emerged, cutting down everyone near the portal and everyone who got within range of him without mercy! Some soldiers began to ask "There's too many of them? What do we do, Boss?"
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"I'll tell you hwhat you do, son: stand there patiently while I kick your ass!" Suddenly, before Goh could answer, Hank Hill had appeared and was, quite literally, kicking that soldier's ass, as he fled in a comedic manner.
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"He is right, though... this is getting a little ridiculous-D'OIII!" Suddenly, some bricks dropped on Goh's head, stunning him briefly.
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*Honk* How did a GOOSE get in here? It was standing next to a rope, presumably the one holding up a girder the bricks were on. Rock snickered realizing the waterfowl's prank. Next to the goose with his Ludicolo at his side was Miror B... who was just dancing, for some reason.
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Then, from a trash can, Majima emerged, eyeing the carnage. "Oh, am I a little late to the party? My apologies..." His tune then changed when he saw a certain someone fighting his way through the chaos. "Huh? HEEY, KIRYU-CHAN!" After saying that, he jumped out and joined Kiryu on the field in a flash!
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Note
Hey I hope you’re having a great day! If you want, could you write a snippet about the fae coming to collect a firstborn child that had been promised to them by a parent in exchange for something (like immortality or magic abilities) before they were born, which was completely unknown to them? Thank you :)
"Happy Birthday."
The protagonist yelped, whipped around and - stared. There was an intruder in their room. The intruder had wings. The intruder had wings. They shimmered in the light for a moment before vanishing from sight.
The intruder was also beautiful in some ancient definition of the word, all acid-green eyes, and something just a bit uncanny.
Fae.
The protagonist felt their mouth go dry. The words, the questions and indignant comments, choked in their throat.
"Sixteen," the fae sighed. "Such a tender age among your kind. Some of you call it sweet, don't you? Sweet sixteen." They seemed to muse on that, roll it on their tongue, as they studied the protagonist's bedroom with an idle curiosity. "Potential is, I suppose, a delicious thing." They fixed their attention back on the protagonist and smiled. It was a very sharp smile. "I expected bags. Are you not bringing anything?"
"Um."
"I suppose it's just as well," the fae creature said. "None of your mortal devices will work in the immortal court, and it's best you lose your attachments to this world quickly. You'll be happier."
"You're fae."
The fae creature blinked at them. Slow. Just once. Like a dangerous cat that hadn't decided if it was amused or irritated just yet, but was daring you to find out. Or maybe it was simply 'duh'.
The protagonist felt a little dizzy. They sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed and wondered, distantly, if they should put their head between their knees. "What?"
The creature's head tilted, eyes narrowing a fraction. "I am the fae your parents promised you to, child."
"I don't know my parents." It came out on automatic.
"I do not see how that is my problem. You are still their firstborn."
"They promised me to you?"
"Aren't you a clever one."
Right. The fae had literally just said exactly that, so it was a dumb question, but also, the protagonist wanted to repeat: what.
Many orphans had questions about what exactly happened to their parents, and no doubt plenty of fantasies about the possibilities. The protagonist still hadn't expected this. They had considered that maybe their parents gave them up to protect them, but one didn't protect a child by selling them to the fae in the first place! The protagonist's throat locked unbearably tight.
"What if I don't want to go with you?" the protagonist asked. "I mean - I'm not just some - you can't actually trade a first born child. I'm not my parent's property."
"No." The fae raised a brow. "You're mine."
"Why would you want someone else's child anyway?!"
The protagonist noted, distantly, that an edge of hysteria had crept into their voice. This was not how their birthday was supposed to go.
"Humans have their uses, at least when you've grown up a bit. You're very annoying as children. All that wailing! The complete inability to do anything for yourselves!" The fey fished into a previously unnoticed pocket, extracting a small wooden box and proffering it across the space between themselves. "It's an evolutionary miracle you have survived this long. Here."
The protagonist did not move.
The fae's eyebrow climbed imperiously higher. "It is a ring. It will make it clear who you belong to."
"I'm not marrying you." It came out strangled. "I'm sixteen."
"I know how old you are. Why in the stars do you believe I would want to marry you?"
"I don't understand." As the shock faded, a dozen more emotions began to creep in. Fury. Fear. Resentment. Maybe a smidgen of awe, and a dash of hope that had to be stomped out at soonest opportunity, because being legally kidnapped by the fae was not a hopeful situation.
The protagonist had heard stories; of human servants and lovers, of cruel tricks. They had never heard of a human leaving the immortal court again once they arrived.
The fae considered them, and then, somehow, let their hand drop. The protagonist braced for anger. For punishment. For something otherworldly and terrible. The fae sighed.
"They truly told you nothing. Of course they didn't!" The fae muttered to themselves. "That would be far too convenient!" They moved to pull up a chair opposite the protagonist's bed. "Your mother exchanged you to me in return for a blessing upon any other children she had. Beauty. Fame. Fortune and the like. It was all very standard."
"But I'm...is she alive then?"
"How should I know?" The fae sighed again at whatever they saw on the protagonist's face. "She is not worth your time. She gave you up, and as far as I am concerned no reason could justify that. If it reassures you, I have no intention of treating you poorly, human. But you will come. You will want to put the ring on before we travel, because while it is customary, it will also help with the magic sickness."
The protagonist really did feel very dizzy. Was it possible to outrun something with wings? (Did they even want to?) They'd never felt like they belonged anywhere. Maybe this was where they belonged. Or maybe that was some creepy fairy magic making them think so.
"This is a lot," the protagonist managed.
"Hm." The fae offered them the wooden box again. "It will be more. Get used to it."
The words were not, the protagonist didn't think, meant unkindly.
The protagonist took the box.
The ring was lovely. It was carved out of what looked like strands of lush grass braided together, topped with what looked like a daisy only in different colours.
The fae stood up, impatient, and offered them a hand. Their wings shimmered back into existence.
The protagonist glanced at the door, at the ordinary world that had been so quick to give them up. They looked back at the fae, at magic, at something that actually wanted them.
Nobody had ever wanted them before.
They took the fae's hand.
They did not look back.
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m3dardas · 2 years
Text
HELLO, NEIGHBOR III.
modern!violet x fem!reader
previous part: part two
next part: none yet
warnings: awkwardness, language, feeling of embarrassment, enemies to LOVERS-ish.
blurb: after that stunt you pulled, your mind has become restless in thought. but, when duty calls changes have to be made — perhaps, for the better?
author’s note: that last part had me literally twitching as i was writing. y/n needs to get it together STAND UP MAMA STAND UP!!
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In the past few days, you may have developed an eye twitching problem. It could’ve been the coffee’s, your lack of sleep, or the little moment you had last week — that you swear could’ve triggered you to go into cardiac arrest if you thought about it too much.
That night as a whole was a total shit show. And it’s encore was your blow up mattress popping from beneath you.
Luckily, your furniture came through a few days after that. Gifting you with a bed, couches and light fixtures to really set the tone for your apartment. Even the comfy furniture for your personal writing room.
But, even as you moved in all the new things, you refused to step too far outside of your apartment. Haunted by the aching possibility of running into your neighbor — Violet. Or the other girl who witnessed the whole thing. What was her name again?
Oh, Powder. How could you ever forget?
So, instead, while you got assignments for the paper. You stayed inside, organizing your topics — beginning your writing process. And trying your very best to forget about everything that happened that night. Hoping that the motors in your brain, washed all of that away.
Speaking of that night, when you stormed into your apartment. Leaving Violet in your wake with a sympathetic expression. She’d went inside of her home, shutting the door lightly and pressing her forehead against it. A loud sigh fell from her lips, before she turned looking at her sister. Yeah, the blue-haired girl was her sister.
Powder was already munching on the warm treats — practically stuffing them down her throat. “Ugh!” She groaned aloud, musing in the sweet flavor of the cookies. “This is the greatest thing that’s ever been in my mouth — how could you have said no to these?!”
Violet watched as her younger sister dogged the chocolate chip cookies, with a thick deepened eyebrows. “Did you have to call her annoying and noisy?” She raised her eyebrows, approaching the blue-haired sat on the couch. “And try not to get any crumbs on my furniture, please.”
“Was she not? I just find it ironic how she didn’t want to be seen as that... Yet, that’s exactly what she was proving.”
“Well, you’re not supposed to say it, Pow-Pow.”
She rolled her eyes, frowning as she munched on the cookie. The frown slowly flipped, as her large blue eyes peered up at her sister. Who was leaning against the back of the couch, with her arms crossed over her chest. She grabbed a cookie, tapping her arm with it. “I know you want one...” Powder’s persuasive eyes glimmered, still chewing on remnants of the treat. “We both know that cut-thing was total baloney.”
The magenta haired young woman, chuckled, shaking her head. Violet took it, immediately going in for the bite. The perfect amount of sweetness coated her taste buds. There was wasn’t too much chocolate, or too less — it was just right. y/n was right, she never disappoints. Violet thought, soft guilt settling in.
She had a habit of giving people a hard time, because it was fun. However, you took the jab, and tried delivering it back to her. Even if it wasn’t successful — you tried to stick up for yourself and demand respect.
That was something she could get behind. And, thanks to you, she now had a new sugar craving.
“These are fuckin’ phenomenal.”
“Oh, my Gods — right!”
Violet grabbed another one right after finishing the other. She began pacing around her apartment, with her forearm under her elbow — walking around in thought. “Maybe, I should go over and apologize.” The pink-haired spoke aloud, munching on the cookie. Bits of crumbs falling from her lips.
Powder turned around, laying her head on the cushions of the couch. Her doe eyes following her sisters every move. “Or maybe not... She seemed pretty pissed at you — you should’ve just taken her cookies.”
“I know, I know. I was just givin’ her a hard time.”
She scoffed, giggling to herself. “Obviously! And she didn’t take too well to that.”
“Yeah, Powder, I know.”
“If I were you... I’d give her some time. That was extremely embarrassing. And if I were her... I’d hide in a hole and never come out.” Her eyes averted to the dimly lit kitchen. “Ooh, I’m thirsty.” Powder hopped off the couch, trotting to the refrigerator to grab a bottled drink. Their were canned energy drinks, gatorade’s, beers, and low calorie fruity drinks.
“Don’t drink the Celsius ones.” Violet mindlessly reminded, still pacing in thought. Her sister was right. It was best to give y/n some time. It was technically her fault for you embarrassing yourself — which is why she wanted to jump and fix it. But, again, it was your doing. And Violet was sure that you wouldn’t see it any other way.
“Vi, I don’t have severe memory loss — I know what not to drink... Damn.”
Back to your curse of mindfulness — days later. With you sitting at your laptop, with notes scattered all over your desk. Your hair was an absolute mess from all the stressed pulling and twisting. Your editor had issued you a list of people to interview for the upcoming issue due the middle of next month. It was only three people, but before you did your interviews — you researched. Like any good journalist did.
It was a government official — who you practically interviewed every other month, an acclaimed scientist, and a boxer. They were all going to be mentioned in next months issue, and it was your job to get all the information and jot it all down into one column seamlessly.
Every month you interviewed three people as a means to bring the people of Zaun and Piltover together. Highlighting shared differences, as well as their success to promote overall development between both societies. Which is part of the reason why you loved writing for The Progress Report. Not only were they one of the most popular publications, they were serving all of the public — not just some.
But, even in your adoration for the magazine, you were immensely burdened by not only your personal life, but your work life. This is part of the reason why you stayed to yourself anyway.
Skimming through your email, you glance back at your list. Some of the names were taking awhile to pop up, because your editor might have still been searching for the candidate. However, now, it was there. The names listed were: Mel Medarda, Viktor, and...
And...
Violet.
Violet.
For just a second, your mind went blank. Total radio silence — not a single through moving through. Until it did, then your mind was racing. Your mouth couldn’t help but go completely dry. The sound of your heart beating in your ears as anxiety rushed all over you. Each name had a date for their interview, and because you’re lucky, hers was the first one.
It was at the end of this week. While you were busy gaining information on Viktor, since you’ve yet to interview him before, you should’ve been getting information on the girl next door.
The one you had a horrible experience with — which was totally your fault for blowing shit out of proportion. Throwing your head back into the top of your chair, you grit your teeth groaning loudly. “I’m the luckiest woman on Runeterra... I swear.” You sarcastically chuckled, rubbing your hands down your face.
It was time to be an adult — real adult, and handle your business. No calling Caitlyn.
She’s your neighbor, so... You might as well, right?
Apprehensively, you pushed out of your rolling desk chair. A harsh sigh falling from your lips. You most definitely didn’t want to have to go over there and face your embarrassment, but you have to. After all the job always came first — and it’s better to squash something before business.
While your ego screamed at you, the fluffiness of your slippers grazed your feet — sliding into the child-like house shoes. “y/n, you got this... Don’t threaten your paycheck by being a chicken.” You mumbled to yourself, unchaining your lock. Their was a slight tremor to your body. It felt completely internal — naturally unnerved.
Like many people, you hated being in the wrong. Which was causing the majority of the anxiety.
You may have the intention on plainly sticking up for yourself, but... It just went totally left. Maybe, you could blame it on the blue-haired girls’ interruption. Because she did throw you off. For a second, it looked like Violet was enjoying it. You just weren’t sure which part.
It was a Saturday afternoon, so there shouldn’t be too much of a problem with her not being home. But, it’s not like you frequently keep up with her schedule.
Trying your luck, you shuffle into the usually vacant hallway. The slight smell of the lunches people were cooking up in their apartments — a much stronger scent ascending from the thin crack beneath Violet’s front door. It smelt of a toasted sandwich toasted — so she must’ve been home, unless it was Powder.
Speaking of, you wondered what her significance was. You assumed that she was related to the magenta haired young woman, simply because of her looks. And even in her slender frame, their build had similarities — their muscles structure.
Raising your fist to her door, you shut your eyes knocking lightly three times. Out of habit, you chewed on the skin inside of your mouth. Your eyes glanced down the hall as you awaited the woman on the side of the door. They were rushing into their apartment with another person, with nothing but smiles.
It seemed romantic, or lustrous. They just didn’t want to be fined for public indecency, so they remained slightly touchy beyond their security. You almost felt like you were intruding. Watching their fumbling movements and flushed faces — it made you sick.
The door clicked open, revealing a disheveled Violet. Her hair was pushed back with an athletic headband, revealing her usually covered face. Her steel eyes were just as pressing as you expected them to be, but they harnessed a welcoming fatigue. There was no irritation behind them. She was dressed in a black sports bra, and a matching pair of shorts — showcasing every ounce of muscle she’s earned in her work outs. Her dense hands were taped in grey wrist wrap, covering up to her forearms.
She really was the boxer you were interviewing, and this wasn’t a dream.
Instead of leaning on the door, like she did your last interaction, she simply leaned a hand on the knob. Her thick eyebrows lifted expectantly at your presence. “Hey, y/n.” Her other hand went up to hair, pushing stray pieces behind her ears.
“Hey, Violet... I was wondering if you had some time to talk.” You furrowed your eyebrows, lifting your shoulders.
She adjusted her footing, nodding tensely. “Uh, yeah. You wanna come in? Or...” Violet pulled door open wider, stepping to the side.
Hm. Going into her house on the bases of a good solid apology — seems like a good idea. At least if something goes wrong, it won’t be in the hallway this time. “Yeah, sure.” You respond, briefly delivering a smile. Even though your nerves were eating you up from the inside.
You stepped inside her home, immediately being engulfed with warmth. It was a comfortable warm, not a sticky warm. Like she had a fireplace on — which she didn’t, but it felt like it. Your eyes had a glimmering glaze over them, as you accepting the format of her apartment. If you weren’t so prideful about you decorating techniques, you’d say hers was better.
Shutting the door behind you, she rubbed her hands on the sides of her hips. Looking at the back of you, while you familiarized yourself with your surroundings. “Your place... Is nice.” You complimented, swiftly turning around to face her. For once, since you met her, she was unrelaxed.
Violet had tense shoulders, similar to yours — and kept doing things with her mouth. Licking her lips, sucking her teeth. “Thanks, my sister helped with the decorating — I’m not really a good interior designer.” She lightly joked, approaching you. Her hand guided you towards the couch, allowing you to get comfortable.
You chuckled, sauntering around the furniture to plop yourself on the soft cushions of her couch. You sat at one end, and she sat on the other. “Speaking of... I’m sorry. My sister, Jinx, can be a little out of pocket sometimes.”
You thought her name was Powder — where you hearing things? Powder isn’t anywhere close to Jinx, though.
“It’s not like she was wrong, so it’s fine.”
“I mean... You were loud, but I didn’t find you annoying.” Violet shook her head, placing one of her arms over the back of the couch. Her muscles flexing under her fair flushed skin. You released air hidden as a chuckle, but you really didn’t know how to respond. “That’s good to know.” Another chuckle emitted from your lips, ridden in awkwardness.
Inhaling sharply and adjusting your place on her couch, you remained on topic. Discussing the event that occurred a few nights ago. “I just wanted to come over here and apologize for the ruckus.” Your eyes softened, locking on her naturally intense ones. But, her eyebrows were lifted, showing that she was actively listening. “On both Tuesday and Wednesday.”
Violet hummed, the corners of her lips curling. “It’s really not a problem.” She shook her head, averting her eyes for a little over a millisecond. Her rigid demeanor, only becoming much more... Rigid. “I probably should be the one apologizing...” Violet began, placing both of her hands in her lap. Her eyes casting down remorsefully.
“The music wasn’t necessarily that big of an issue — I just wanted to talk to you. And, I was just pullin’ your leg when I denied your cookies. Which were so fucking good. Big mistake.”
Your lips were parted in a bit of a shock, many thoughts raging through your mind. The pink-haired athletic woman was all around just fucking with you. And if she wasn’t so attractive that would be another problem — but, she was. Violet just wanted some excuse to come and talk to you, when she really could have just introduced herself.
But, you couldn’t figure out if this made you feel better or worse about your actions. That means all that energy was used in vain. When was it your turn to be happy, goddamn.
“I see those wheels ‘a yours turnin’ — what’s going on up there?”
Frankly, you were a little stunned. Lost in thought, maybe. “Uhm... I just don’t really know what to say — because, now I feel more embarrassed.” You paused, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. Which caused you to remember... Your hair looks absolutely insane.
You tried to prime it, stuffing the many stray and stuck out pieces into it bun. “I really wish you would’ve just said hi — that would’ve been great.”
“Who doesn’t love a little chaos?” The pink-haired shrugged, grinning crookedly. You narrow your eyes, a smile threatening to spread on your own lips. Simply, because hers was contagious. Her hand reaches over, placing it gently on your knee. “Hey, seriously, it’s no big deal. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed.” Who knew a gesture so simple, could be so...
If only her wants could easily affect your emotions.
She chuckled, “You kind of impressed me with that attitude of yours. Initially, you didn’t seem like the type.” Her shoulders relaxed, regaining that coolness you found so appealing.
“What type?”
“The type to go in on me over some cookies — but, I did deserve it so...”
You laughed, the corners of your eyes crinkling. It sounded so silly spoken back to you. “Well, I don’t plan on doing that anymore. Unless, you deny my cooking again.” You joked, but quickly recovering yourself. “Kidding!”
Violet hummed, her grey eyes dilating. A faint smile resting on her moisturized scarred lips. “No, be my guest. Denying your cooking is a mistake I never plan on making again.” She gestures with her hands.
“Very funny.” You sarcastically responded, shaking your head with amused eyes.
A silence split between the two of you. Her eyes barely leaving your frame, while yours danced around her walls. Feeling content that all the high emotions were squashed — at least on your end. So, when the time came for the interview, there’d be no bad blood.
And... You and your hot neighbor were on good terms.
You preferred it that way. “I should probably go.” You stand to your feet abruptly, rubbing your hands on your house shorts. Violet mirrors you, stretching out her back. “Yeah, yeah — totally.” She chirped, following you as you strolled to the front door.
She pulled it opened, sharing a tight smile and friendly eyes. You stepped out, preparing to give a final wave — but she spoke.
“What are you doin’ tonight?”
Violet openly questions, squinting her eyes lightly and tilting her jaw upwards. A slight warm color flushed onto her cheeks, leaning her head gassing the door. Your lips open and close, in brief thought. “Uh, nothing. Why?” Pivoting on your heels, you wondered with skeptic eyes. Was this was you think this was? Or were you overthinking again?
“Uhm, would you wanna grab a drink with me?” She reached one of her hands behind her head, scraping at her neck. “Maybe, we could go to that popular place in the undercity — Boaz’s.”
“I definitely could use a drink.” At this point all thoughts about your assignment had vanished — you completely forgot about your priorities. Violet nodded, struggling to hide an elated smile on her lips. “Sweet.” She mused, rocking on her sneaker clad feet. “So, what do ‘ya say — eight-thirty? Nine?”
You glanced up, feigning thought. “Hm. Nine works.” A grin spreads onto your lips, as you backed up towards your apartment. Violet chortled, leaning her head outside of the door.
“See you then, y/n.”
“See you then, Violet.”
Being calm, cool and collected has it’s perks. Let’s see how long you can keep it up.
326 notes · View notes
p3terparker · 2 years
Note
hii!! i love your blog sm and have an idea for you!
reader is ironically DEATHLY scared of spiders and finds one in their room while her and peter are studying and screams and tells peter to kill it and he’s like “what?!? no i can’t kill it!! it’s like killing my sibling!!” and just gets it on a paper and lets it out and then makes fun of reader for being scared of spiders when she’s literally dating the human spider
oh my god this is so long i’m so sorry LMAOO i just think this would be really funny
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𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none
𝗮/𝗻: i think this is probably the fastest i’ve ever completed a request LMAO i just loved it too much 😭
𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k
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the only noises that could be heard from your bedroom were the soft sounds of lofi music and the tapping of yours and peter’s pencils. occasionally, you guys break the silence by asking the other to test you on the material you were studying, and then it goes back to a comfortable silence.
after another thirty minutes, you broke the silence again, but not for studying purposes.
“AHHH!” you shrieked, causing peter to jolt up.
“what’s wrong?!” you hear peter ask you frantically.
“spider! over there, look!” you point over to the corner of your room, leading peter’s line of vision to what has you so freaked out.
“seriously, y/n? there’s no need to freak out, that little guy is harmless”
“i don’t care! go over there and kill it now!” you spat out in disgust and fear of the spider.
“are you crazy?! i can’t kill it, that spider is practically my cousin!”
“you are not related to that evil thing!”
“i might as well be!”
“you know what, i don’t give a shit if you’re related to it or not, just please take it out of my room” you plead, not wanting to continue the conversation of him being family to a spider.
“that’s all you had to say” peter said as he went to pick up the spider with his bare hands.
“wait! not with your hands! get a piece of paper and throw it out” you demand once again.
“god, you’re so bossy. i kinda like it” peter said smugly before obliging and putting the spider out your window.
“happy now?”
“very.”
“now that it’s gone, can we talk about how you’re deathly afraid of spiders yet you’re literally dating a human spider” peter laughed while making fun of you as you both settled back onto the floor.
“it’s not funny! at least you’re cute, those other creatures are so gross” you huffed.
“aww, you think i’m cute?”
“i’m not speaking to you for the rest of the night” you muttered in fake annoyance.
“i’m playing! in all honesty, it’s kinda cute that you’re afraid of spiders. i felt so manly being able to save you from it” peter exclaimed as if he’s not a superhero who saves people from actual dangerous situations all the time.
“pete, you’re literally an avenger”
“your point? anyways since i rid of the spider for you i think i deserve some kisses” peter mused while leaning in.
“yeah, you would deserve some if you didn’t find this situation funny” you said before shoving his face away.
“you’re so mean to me.” peter pouted before pushing your textbooks away and settling his head into your lap. “guess you can’t study until you give me a kiss.
“you know you’re supposed to be studying too, right?” you giggled.
“i know. you’re way more important to me than a stupid test though.”
“just for that you get a kiss” you smiled before placing a kiss down on his lips.
“so flattery is what makes you nice to me? noted.”
“i bet the other spider would be less annoying than you”
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kiss-inthekitchen · 3 years
Text
all that you ask of me | loki laufeyson
summary: you and Loki have a discussion about your kinks, and you learn something about him that you weren’t expecting
wc: 1.5k
warnings: smutty themes!! talk of bdsm, both reader and loki are switches and they aren't chill about it, teasing, light degradation but in a cute way, sub!loki, dom!loki, f!reader. loki has huge bisexual switch energy and i had to put it in a fic
a/n: title is kind of unrelated lol it makes more sense in the next chapter. pls let me know if you like it, i love when u guys leave comments or tags !
It’s been a few weeks since you and Loki had started dating and your sexual chemistry has been insane, which was a surprise to neither of you. You’d started out as friends, and even then, any time Loki had so much as brushed his fingers along your skin you felt something akin to electricity spike through your body. And though he was loath to admit it at first, Loki felt the same. So, once you finally gave in to your mutual feelings for each other, things only got more exciting.
Though the two of you had been having sex for weeks, you hadn’t really done anything too spicy yet, still getting used to this new aspect of your relationship. Now, though, you’d decided it would be a good idea to get it all out there, rather than try to figure it out as you went along. Besides, something about the idea of talking things out with Loki like it was nothing more than a casual conversation was thrilling to you.
You and Loki were sitting on the couch, your legs resting in his lap as he absentmindedly soothed circles into one of your calves. You smiled fondly at the way he always had to be touching some part of you. The two of you had covered a few topics already, going over safewords (you were partial to the traffic light system, and Loki agreed) and some of your hard limits, and now you were on to the fun part. Specifically, a rather exciting interest your partner had just confessed to.
“You know,” you mused, unable to keep the teasing smile off your face, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be into submission, what with your whole...thing.”
“My whole thing?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows at your choice of words. You suppressed a laugh. He probably would’ve spent more time on his faux outrage if the look on your face wasn’t so damn cute. “Yes, well. I am full of surprises, aren’t I?”
You hummed in response. “I mean, I had hoped you’d be into it. Or, I guess, fantasized, would be the better w-”
“Did you?” He cut you off, sounding all too pleased.
“Oh, for a while now,” you smirked.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, the admiration in his eyes shifting to smugness as he continued, “I wouldn’t expect you to be a dom, what with your whole thing.”
You made a show of rolling your eyes at him. He wasn’t wrong, though. Compared to Loki, you were much more bubbly and warm, not that he was really so cold anymore, but he was still… him. On top of that, your style tended to lean more toward pastel colors, though lately you were known to also rock some dark green tones. You supposed that from the outside, people would assume you to be the more submissive one in the relationship. Which you definitely could be, but your tastes went both ways.
“Okay, I deserved that,” you relented. “Now come on, tell me what I want to know.”
“Okay, well. I’ve no problem with bondage, as I’m sure you know.”
“You do seem to end up in chains quite often, my love. But... not sexually?” You’d meant for it to be a statement, but then you realized you actually had no idea, your voice lilting up into a question.
He fixed you with a look that very clearly told you you’d been wrong.
Well, okay then. “Right,” you responded, a little breathier than before, trying not to let your imagination run wild just yet. Loki squeezed your ankle playfully, bringing you back before you could lose focus. “So, is there anything you’re not okay with, bondage-wise? Like, collars, ties, cuffs…?” You trailed off.
He thought for a moment. “No, it’s all fine with me. What about you?”
“Cuffs kinda freak me out, actually. I don’t have superhuman strength and all.”
“Noted. Oh, one thing I do want to mention- I’m going to have to ask that you refer to me exclusively as ‘Your Majesty’ when I’m in charge,” he said, expression unwavering.
Your mouth dropped open for a second before you asked, “Wait, seriously?”
He broke into a mischievous grin. “No. But if you’d really like to, I suppose I wouldn’t stop you,” he said the last bit thoughtfully, and you playfully hit his arm with the back of your hand in admonishment. “Ooh, harder,” he said, still with an air of mischief, though you got the sense he wasn’t entirely kidding.
“Loki!” you gasped.
“Alright,” he laughed lightly. “Great God of Mischief will work just as well.”
“I am not calling you that.”
“You’re being so difficult.”
“Will you just tell me what you like to be called already? If you carry on like this, I swear, I will call you Captain.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, glaring at you, and you raised an eyebrow as if to ask, care to test that theory? “Okay, I yield. But, honestly, it depends on the scene. If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll have you call me ‘sir’ most of the time, ‘daddy’ on special occasions. You’re a smart girl. I trust that you’ll know when those occasions come about.”
You just nodded, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Why were you having such a reaction to Loki calling you a smart girl? He’d definitely noticed.
“What would you like to be called? When you’re the dominant?” Loki asked, saving you from your thought spiral.
“Oh, um. Ma’am is fine. None of the other terms really work for me, I don’t know why, they just seem kind of… too much, I guess,” you over-explained, feeling your cheeks start to heat up.
“Ma’am is just fine?” Loki pressed.
“No, it’s- it’s good. I, um, really like it.” Your cheeks flamed even hotter now, your gaze trained on the couch cushion.
Loki reached out and lifted your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. “Come now, you were doing so well. Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, voice taking on that deep timbre that made you feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
“Okay,” you breathed, your mind gone completely blank as you looked at him.
“Good girl,” he said softly. He didn’t miss the way your body reacted to the praise, a smug smirk plastered on his face.
Bastard. You narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head slightly to clear it. “That’s not fair,” you countered weakly.
“Isn’t it? I’m just trying to figure out what you like,” he feigned innocence.
“Right,” you said, only a little petulantly, trying to think of what else you wanted to ask him before he’d distracted you. “How do you feel about degradation?” You blurted out. “Receiving, I mean.”
That caught him off guard, to your great enjoyment. “I- I’m not sure. No one’s ever tried it.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been tied up but no one’s ever called you names?”
“No,” he responded, frowning slightly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I think I might be okay with it.”
“My honey, you’ve been so deprived,” you said with a pout. It was your turn to have a little fun now. “So,” you started, trailing your fingertips up his forearm, drawing his attention to your touch before you continued. “If, for example, I had you on your knees, and you were being so good for me, and I just happened to call you my obedient little slut-” he inhaled sharply, and you couldn’t help but grin, “-you would, theoretically, be okay with that?” You looked up into his eyes, seeing the flash of desire that had settled there.
“I think that would be acceptable,” he spoke, clearly putting in effort to keep his voice even.
You smiled, pleased with yourself. It was cute that he still tried to seem unaffected when you could literally feel the way his cock had stiffened against you. You shifted the position of your leg in his lap, lightly brushing against him, and he gasped.
“Pathetic,” you chide.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As much as he may try to seem unimpressed with your teasing, he was certainly susceptible to it. “If you want us to get through the rest of the conversation, you’re going to have to stop that,” he says, but it comes out more like a plea than an order, and he’s sure that you’re going to be the death of him.
You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Oh, this is gonna be so much fun.”
“It seems I’ve underestimated you, dearest,” he says, tone laced through with affection.
You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, drawing him closer to press a sweet kiss to his lips.
“Well, that’s a mistake we won’t make twice. Isn’t it, love?”
464 notes · View notes
undertakerslxt · 2 years
Text
of soul collections and crimson smiles | grelle x reader
title; of soul collections and crimson smiles
warnings; the usual for kuro.
summary; you’re a reaper-in-training assigned to grelle sutcliffe. . . it’s a night you’ll certainly remember.
song inspo; looking at me slowed (sue me, this is literally grelle talking to the reader here)
word count; 1.4k
note; your girl is sick with covid, and so is the rest of her fam, so like. . . enjoy this draft. also, i may write a part two with a little more spice because i just adore this version of grelle. 
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"MY, MY, SO YOU'RE THE new recruit William speaks so highly of."
You jumped at the sudden voice next to your ear, and your eyes widened as a crimson-haired woman circled to face you. You knew who she was instantly; she was, undoubtedly, the most infamous Reaper of the London dispatch.
Grelle Sutcliffe. Reaper extraordinaire, as she liked to style herself. Her signature grin was fixed firmly on her lips, showing off razor sharp fangs. She looked ready to pounce on you. You swallowed back your fear, knowing that any sign of weakness on your part would only provoke her. Grelle was infamous for not only her unabashed love for bloodshed and chaos, but the way she was the most difficult senior Reaper to impress. No one really could figure out how she graded her juniors; some received outstanding grades from her. Others with similar results were failed miserably with a snarled Get out of my sight.
The senior Reaper's eyes glinted at you with malicious amusement. That was the thing, you'd learn so very quickly upon your arrival to the Association -- most Grim Reapers had a vicious streak that could make a demon run for cover that they hid behind macabre humor. And Grelle was no different.
In fact, you'd heard that Grelle Sutcliffe was the most dangerous Reaper in this dispatch.
Perhaps that was why your undead heart beat faster as she leaned in, the faint scent of roses mingling with the tinge of rusted old blood drifting off her. She raised one hand to your chin, sharpened nails digging into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. Grelle seemed to assess you through cold phosphorescent eyes. You didn't blink. Please don't reject me, you thought to whatever deity might be out there.
You were acutely aware of how cold Grelle's fingers were against your chin, and of how she had you cornered in her office. You could even hear her heartbeat.
She released you abruptly, but something had shifted in her eyes. You couldn't quite place it, or whether that shift boded well for you.
"We have plenty of souls to collect tonight," she mused. Grelle stretched her arms above her head, before shrugging her coat over her shoulders. "Our shift is about to start, and I absolutely refuse to work any ghastly overtime. A girl's got her limits, you know? We must stand up for ourselves."
"I - uh, yes," you stammered out. You let out a giant breath you didn't even realize you'd been holding, shoulders slumping slightly. It seemed you'd passed whatever first test she'd put you through. "Do you get overtime a lot?"
"Ugh, you have no idea." She left her office, you in tow. "The amount of times I've had to cancel my spa days because some disaster happened is ridiculous. It's always the new Reapers too. You lot are always underestimating a human's will to live. Well," she turned back to glance at you briefly, "I suppose none of us could understand that sort of will."
That comment stung.
And yet Grelle was completely right.
She studied you again, her expression almost thoughtful. For the infamous Reaper constantly getting into trouble, she was surprisingly calm. Despite all of her seemingly insane exploits, you could see that Grelle was an incredibly smart woman. She was the sort of woman you thought you'd rather have with you than against you.
Grelle began striding down the hall again, leading you out into the rainy night encompassing London. You'd been assigned to shadow her for a night to see reaping firsthand, something your dorm mates had been equally impressed by and jealous of. It was well-known that such a high-ranking Reaper was your mentor because Director Spears saw great potential in you. Now, if you could only prove him right.
And maybe befriend her.
You couldn't deny the fact that you'd been both thrilled and anxious to learn of the news. Grelle was a legend in her own right, and you. . . well, you'd always found dangerous women exciting. Attractive. And it didn't help that Grelle was breathtaking. Half of her department pined for her. She never seemed interested, however; any romantic interest of hers was directed at either the director himself or some demon named Sebastian.
Grelle took you to the top of a three story apartment building, her long crimson hair swaying gently in the London wind. You leapt to her side from the ground, glancing to her. "Oh dear," she sighed, rather melodramatically. "Looks like we are right. . . on. . . time."
As if on cue, a gunshot rang out.
You looked down to the street below you, wrinkling your nose slightly. It exuded a foul smell from even this far up, though you supposed that might just be due to your enhanced sense of smell. You narrowed your eyes as you crouched down, studying the scene down below. Grelle chucked from above you.
"Greedy men," she sneered, and the words sounded like an insult.
A man had fallen to the cobbled street below, clutching his abdomen. Above him stood another man with a gun clutched between his fingers. He aimed for the first man's head again, shouting something about money and drugs. You adjusted your spectacles.
"He's still alive," you pointed out to your senior.
"Right. Of course he is, darling. Until we drag his soul out of him, he will be alive."
A hand grasped your shoulder, and Grelle's voice dropped an octave. "Go on, then. Put him out of his misery, hmm? And watch for that Cinematic Record. Humans tend to resist their own inevitibe fates."
You stood back up, turning to her. She winked at you, before making a shooing motion with her hand. You drew the Death Scythe holstered at your hip, and as your fingers closed around the hilt, adrenaline rushed through your veins. Your very being shivered, and you couldn't help the fanged smirk.
Your very first collection.
You pushed off from the edge of the roof, soaring through the air. Your feet made barely any sound as they connected with the cobblestone below. One glance above you showed Grelle's silhouette against the moon. Something inside you burned fiercely at the thought that the Reaper you so admired, so loved, was watching you so closely.
You'd make Grelle proud.
You brushed past the human man nearby, and without hesitation, swung your scythe down at the other. The tip pierced into his body, and from his wound spilled not blood, but strips of memories. His entire life, and it was all in your hands. His memories played out in front of your eyes, and you watched as he grew from an infant to a boy to a young man, and finally, to the middle-aged man caught unawares in a dangerous part of the city. You almost pitied him. He'd have lived if he had just taken a different turn.
Heaven it is.
The second you thought it, you realized something was wrong. His Cinematic Record reared its strips above you, before plunging down. You barely managed to parry it with your scythe, leaping back. A hiss escaped your lips as you felt something wrap around your ankle.
This is why they tell Reapers-in-training not to collect souls yet.
You sliced through the tendril around your ankle, but another snagged your wrist next. You grunted as the Record came diving at you again, and managed to dodge its strike. Was it trying to kill you? Implant its memories in your body? Souls were such fickle things, and you had no idea what this one wanted.
You would not let Grelle down.
You sliced through three tendrils at the same time before cutting straight through the main Record floating from the man's body. As you did so, the light emanating from him vanished, and the street quieted. You stumbled back a step, dragging in a breath. Dear God, that was difficult.
"Bravo, my dear," a familiar voice rang out from behind you. You turned to be greeted by the sight of Grelle's wide smile. "And you were so much faster than your classmates," she added. "They took their time, but you. . . Well, I must say, I understand why dear Will is so interested in your potential."
Grelle barely looked at the body of the fallen human as she came closer. Her eyes glowed in the darkness of the alley as she leaned in close to your face for the second time that night. Your undead heartbeat sped up again, and you blinked.
"You may just turn out to be an excellent Reaper, after all."
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