#so intriguing and wonderful subject excited to read

[wholoveseggs]

hey girl! i was wondering if you could write some angst - maybe like an unrequited love? like the reader is in love with Elijah but is too shy to tell him, and he doesn’t know about her feelings towards him because he’s too focused on Hayley? pretty please 🫶🏻

Crush

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You have quite the crush on Rebekah's big brother, and you find yourself lost in the tangled web of unreciprocated feelings, yearning for a love that may never be yours.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag, I may have gone a little off topic with this one ♡♡

6.7k words - Warnings: angst, masturbation, smut, corsets, Elijah being a history nerd and using it to flirt, Rebekah being the best (as always)

{Moodboard->}

You were excited to meet Rebekah’s infamous family. You thought Klaus, as notorious as he was, would intrigue you the most. However, the moment you laid eyes on him you knew you were doomed. Elijah. His charming smile, his piercing dark eyes and his strong hands. It took all your self-control not to blush and look away like some schoolgirl.

He was the first person who greeted you, his hand lingered in yours a moment longer than what could be considered polite and it sent butterflies straight into your stomach.

You were so gone, it was almost embarrassing. You couldn't help it, you were sure that anyone else would fall head over heels for him too.

But there was only one small problem: Elijah had eyes for another, Hayley Marshall. You tried not to be bitter, after all, they were just friends. However, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at her, or the way she leaned into his touch. They way they would sometimes have entire conversations with their eyes. You couldn't stand it.

You had been so sure you had a chance. He had been flirting with you, right? But then you noticed that he was that way will everyone. He would flirt and smile, then gaze at you in a way that just oozed sex appeal.

You were staying in the compound with Rebekah and going to school full time. You enjoyed spending your free time reading, the Mikaelsons had an incredible collection of books and you had read a lot of them.

You were sitting at the table, a large book on medieval history in front of you. You were working on a research paper on romanticism in the middle ages. It was difficult, especially because there wasn't much written about that subject from this time period.

You considered asking Rebekah about it, but you knew it was a sore subject for her, so you decided against it.

You were getting ready to give up and start a new project when Elijah entered the room. You blushed at the sight of him, he was wearing a black T-shirt, and jeans. Looking the most casual you had ever seen him.

He gave you a friendly nod and headed to the bookshelf. He looked through the books for a moment, before taking one from the shelf. He placed it on the table before sitting across from you and beginning to read.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, both of you reading and not making a sound. You were surprised that you weren't more uncomfortable. The only sounds were the occasional page turn and the occasional noise from the city outside.

You got lost in your work again and came across an interesting paragraph about how poetry was used often to court potential partners. You wondered if Elijah had done that back then. He seemed like the kind of guy who would have.

The thought of Elijah reading you poetry made your heart skip a beat. You imagined him leaning in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered words of affection and lust.

Your eyes glanced up, and your breath hitched when you realized he was staring at you. You flushed, quickly looking back at your work.

He chuckled softly and reached out, tapping the top of your textbook.

"Interesting choice of reading material." He said.

You gave him a small smile, "I'm trying to write a research paper on the Middle Ages." You replied. "About romance and poetry."

"Ah, yes." He said with a smirk, "I remember that time period fondly."

You giggled, "Of course you do. You were probably the biggest player around."

He gave you an odd look, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. His eyes looked you up and down, and you could see a flash of something indecipherable cross them. You were surprised by how intense his gaze was, and felt your cheeks growing hot, regretting opening your mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, his tone teasing.

"I... uh..." You stammered, not sure how to respond. "You just seem like the type who'd have his pick of women."

Elijah smirked, his dark eyes meeting yours. "And why would you think that?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed nervously, and his eyes narrowed slightly. You realized he was toying with you, and that he could hear your heartbeat quickening. You weren't going to let him win.

"I think you know why." You said, your voice surprisingly steady.

Elijah chuckled, his eyes roaming over your body once again. He put his hand on this chin and looked at you thoughtfully. "In the middle ages I was actually quite solitary." He said, a smirk still playing on his lips.

"What was it like back then?" You asked, trying to steer the conversation away from your previous comment.

Elijah's expression softened slightly, and his gaze seemed far away. "It was a different time." He said wistfully.

You couldn't help but stare at him. His eyes were filled with such pain and sadness. You knew he'd experienced terrible things, and that it must've been difficult for him. But somehow he'd managed to survive and maintain his humanity, something that very few vampires could say.

"What was it like to date -sorry- court someone back then? You asked, hoping to get a better understanding of him.

"Women were often married off when they were very young." Elijah said, a grim expression on his face. "They had no say in the matter. But there were ways around it."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "It wasn't easy to be alone with a woman, not even for a moment. If you wanted to seduce her, you had to be creative."

Your face turned a deep shade of crimson, and you were suddenly thankful for the dim lighting. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, and he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your discomfort.

"What we are doing right now, alone in this room," he said, his voice low and seductive, "it wouldn't be allowed. Not without a chaperone. And if we were discovered, the consequences would be severe."

His eyes flashed with desire, and you found yourself unable to look away.

"What would they do?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"Well," he said, his tone mischievous, "you'd have to marry me, of course."

Your eyes widened in shock, and he laughed loudly, enjoying the reaction he'd gotten from you.

You felt flustered and embarrassed, but also oddly flattered. You couldn't believe he'd actually suggested that, and the thought of it made your heart race.

You wondered if he was joking, but you didn't dare ask. You weren't sure you could handle the answer.

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, before Hayley walked in holding Hope. She gave Elijah a questioning look and he stood, walking over to her. You watched as he placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.

"Can you watch her for a few hours? They need me in the bayou," she asked him, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Of course." He replied, giving her a small smile.

She smiled gratefully, placing a hand on his cheek. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft and affectionate.

Elijah took Hope from Hayley's arms and cradled her gently. Giving her a wide smile and making funny faces, causing her to giggle. You couldn't help but smile. He was so sweet with her.

Hayley looked from you to Elijah, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "See you later." She said, before walking away.

Elijah nodded, his gaze lingering on her a moment before turning back to you. You looked down at your textbook, feeling guilty and jealous all at once.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, Hope still in his arms. You couldn't help but stare at the two of them. Elijah held his niece with such tenderness, and Hope seemed completely content in his arms. He was rocking her back and forth, humming a soft tune under his breath.

You'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Hope's eyes slowly started to droop, and Elijah smiled down at her. He continued to hum and rock her until her eyes finally closed, and she was asleep.

"You are so good with her." You said, unable to hold back the compliment.

He smiled, and his eyes met yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed.

You were sure he could hear it.

"Thank you," he said, not taking his eyes off Hope.

You tried to focus on your work, but it was difficult. Your mind kept wandering, and you found yourself glancing over at him more and more.

"I better go put her down, have a nice night." He said, standing up with Hope in his arms and heading towards the nursery.

"You too," you replied, smiling up at him.

Once he was gone, you let out a sigh and sank back into the couch. Your heart was still racing, and you were sure your face was still bright red.

It was the first time the two of you had been alone together. The first time you'd gotten a glimpse of his softer side.

And it made you want him even more.

Over the next few weeks you kept finding yourself alone with him. In the kitchen, in the library, on the balcony. It was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep it up.

He would ask you questions about your paper, and the two of you would talk for hours. He would listen to your ideas and tell you of his own experiences in the Middle Ages.

You loved how passionate he was about everything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he enjoyed.

You wondered if he could see how you were falling for him, if he noticed how you blushed whenever he touched you. You were sure he did.

You knew it was foolish, but you couldn't help it. Every time you were around him, you couldn't stop yourself from imagining what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him. To be with him.

But he didn't seem interested, he didn't look at you the way he looked at Hayley.

One night, the two of you were sitting on the balcony, watching the stars. He was telling you a story of how he courted a woman who was to be wed to another, he would compel her betrothed to forget that he was around her.

"I don't miss much about those times, everything smelled terrible and fanaticism ran rampant, but there was something about the secrecy and the scandal that made it all..." He paused, looking for the right word, "exciting."

You chuckled, "I'm sure. But the fact that a lady could be forced to marry a man she didn't want... that sounds horrible."

"It was," Elijah agreed, "but not everyone was unhappy. Some women preferred it."

"Why?" You asked, your brows furrowing.

"Some liked the idea of being taken care of, of not having to make decisions or choices." He shrugged. "Others simply liked the security."

"What do you think?" You asked.

He turned to look at you, his eyes studying your face intently. "I think it was wrong. No woman should be forced into a marriage she doesn't want. No one should have that much power over another person."

You smiled, glad that he held similar opinions to your own. 

"But I do miss the corsets, the anticipation when taking one off, pulling the ribbons and slowly revealing the soft, delicate skin underneath," his eyes met yours, his gaze intense. "It was like unwrapping a gift, a treasure."

You couldn't stop yourself from blushing, his words making your heart race.

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a sip of his bourbon and leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Do you have enough information for your paper now?" He asked.

You smiled and nodded, "yes, but I don't know how to credit my sources," you chuckled. "I can't tell my professor that I'm writing a paper on the middle ages based on the first hand account of a vampire I know," you grinned.

"Hmmm, yes, I suppose that would be difficult." He said, his tone teasing. "How about you quote a 'unique source' that has a vast knowledge of the subject and a passion for it?"

You laughed, "That might work."

"Good," he said, offering you his hand. "Shall we?"

You looked at him quizzically, "where are we going?"

He smirked, "to the 14th century, of course."

"What?" You said, staring at him in disbelief.

"First hand experience is far more educational than anything written down," he said, taking your hand in his.

"You ready?" He asked, his expression serious.

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what was about to happen, but you trusted him.

"Ready."

You were immediately plunged into his memories. He was standing in a large stone hall, surrounded by people in period clothing. There was laughter and music, and the scent of roasted meat and wine filled the air.

You watched as Elijah walked through the crowd, smiling and greeting people as he passed. He was dressed in a dark red tunic, and his hair was slicked back into a ponytail. It was an amusing haircut for him, but it was the fashion back then.

You followed him as he made his way towards a woman standing in a corner. She was beautiful, her dark hair was braided into a crown on her head, and she was wearing a yellow gown with red embroidery.

Elijah stood next to her, his hand resting on her arm. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with longing. A feeling you knew well.

"My Lady," he said, bowing his head.

"Sir," she said, her voice soft and sensual.

"Would you care to dance?" He asked, offering her his hand.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting towards a man who was watching them intently.

"I don't think my husband would approve."

"You worry too much," Elijah said, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

They began to move together, their bodies swaying in perfect sync. You couldn't tear your eyes away, watching the two of them. They moved with such grace and elegance, it was like watching a dance meant only for the two of them.

A sudden movement caught your eye, and you saw the woman's husband storming towards the couple. His eyes were filled with rage, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Elijah," you said, hoping he could hear you.

But he didn't respond, instead he continued to dance with the woman, ignoring her husband's fury. When the husband reached them, Elijah simply grabbed the man and compelled him.

"I'm going to take a walk with your wife, she will be back before the sun comes up."

He let go of the man, who immediately walked away, not saying a word. Elijah offered his hand to the woman, and she took it, a small smile playing on her lips.

They walked out of the castle together, and you found yourself following behind. You watched as they strolled through the gardens, their hands entwined. They stopped under a large oak tree, and Elijah pulled her close, kissing her deeply.

You were mesmerized by the scene, your heart aching for the man you had grown to love. You wished it was you in her place. You wished he would kiss you like that.

You heard Elijah's voice, but it wasn't coming from the version in front of you. "I courted her for months, sneaking into her chambers, bringing her flowers and trinkets," he chuckled. "It was rather clandestine and exciting."

"What happened?" You asked, wanting to know the ending.

"She became pregnant with her husband's child." He said, his voice low and full of regret.

Your heart ached for him, and for the woman who had been forced to marry another man. The memory faded and you returned to the present, still holding Elijah's hand.

"I'm sorry," you said, not knowing what else to say.

He smiled, "It's alright, it was a long time ago."

"It's lonely isn't it? Being a vampire?" You asked.

He was quiet for a moment, before answering. "Yes. I think it's why I value my family so much," his gaze shifted to yours, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "And why I treasure our friendship."

"Me too," you said softly, smiling up at him.

You both sat in silence for a while, watching the stars and enjoying each other's company. After a while, Elijah stood, fixing his suit jacket and giving you a smile. "I hope you get an A on your paper."

You grinned, "Thanks for the help, Elijah. Goodnight."

You went to your room, lying awake in the dark. Your thoughts consumed with him, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. The memory he had shared with you, it was so personal, and yet he didn't mind that you were there.

Your mind wandered to the way he was kissing that woman in the garden. His lips pressing against hers, his hands gripping her waist, his body flush against hers. You could see the way her head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut. You could feel the heat between them.

Your skin began to flush, and you felt a warmth between your legs. You had never felt such an intense desire for someone before, but there was no denying it.

You wanted him, you wanted to experience that kind of passion, that kind of intimacy.

Your hand trailed down your body, slowly slipping under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers brushing against your most sensitive spot. You gasped at the sensation, biting your lip as you started to circle your finger slowly.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you pictured him above you, his body pressed against yours as he kissed your neck and shoulders. Your hand moving faster as you imagined what his mouth would feel like on your skin, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against yours.

You gasped, arching your back as you felt yourself coming undone, his name on your lips as you imagined him touching you.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. It was a satisfying release, but it left you wanting more.

You were determined to have him, to taste him, to feel him inside of you. You were going to make him yours.

You practically skipped into the compound, giddy and excited to share your A+ grade on your paper. Elijah had been so helpful, and you couldn't wait to show him.

You heard voices coming from the courtyard, and you hurried past the gate, hoping to find him. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him, his arms wrapped around Hayley.

Her hand was tangled in his hair, and her body was pressed against his. Their eyes were closed, and their lips were locked in a passionate kiss.

You couldn't move. Your heart was shattered. You'd been foolish, thinking you had a chance with him. He was just being nice in his typical flirty way, and you were dumb enough to think it meant more. You'd just been reading into things.

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you quickly walked past them and up to your room. You collapsed onto the bed, your heart broken.

You cried, unable to hold back the pain.

You felt so stupid.

He didn't like you, he was just being friendly. And you'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. How could you possibly believe someone like him could ever like someone like you?

You heard a quiet knock at your door and Rebekah walked in, she had heard you crying and came to check on you.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asked, sitting down on the bed beside you.

"I'm fine." You said, your voice hoarse.

"Just crying for fun then?" She said, giving you a knowing look.

You sighed and sat up, wiping the tears from your face. "I'm just being silly," you said, shaking your head.

She sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug, which caused you to cry even more. She rubbed your back, trying to comfort you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No, I just need to get over it." You said, your voice breaking.

"Get over what darling?" Rebekah asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"Elijah." You said, wiping away your tears.

She looked at you, confusion written all over her face.

"I may have a bit of a crush on your brother." You confessed.

She laughed, "Oh is that all? I thought you were going to say something terrible."

"What? You aren't surprised?" You asked, staring at her in disbelief.

"You're not exactly subtle, darling." She chuckled. "Your heart beats faster, making your cheeks flush, whenever he's near. And your eyes light up like Christmas morning whenever he talks to you. It's rather obvious."

You couldn't believe she had noticed all that. Damn vampires and their heightened senses, you were mortified. If Rebekah noticed then Elijah definitely did as well.

You buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"So why the tears?" Rebekah asked, patting you on the shoulder.

"Because I just saw him kissing Hayley."

Rebekah was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. She put her arm around your shoulders.

"That might not mean anything, they're just friends. They have a complicated history," she explained.

You shook your head, "No, I saw the way he looked at her, the way she kissed him. There's definitely something between them, and it's more than just friendship."

Rebekah sighed and hugged you again."He's an idiot, always been that way around women. Sometimes I think it's more of a blind spot for him than Klaus," she said, her voice soothing.

You chuckled and wiped away your tears.

"He'll come around eventually," she said, smiling softly. "He just needs time to figure it out."

"Figure what out?" You asked, sniffling.

"That you're the perfect girl for him," she said, giving you an affectionate smile.

You smiled back and hugged her, thankful for her support. You felt a little better, and you were glad that she didn't judge you.

"I have an idea, a way for you to make him see what a catch you are," Rebekah said, her eyes glinting.

"Really?" You asked, excited at the prospect.

"Yes and it will be a chance for you to get him alone, away from Hayley," she smirked.

"I don't want to be that girl..," you started, not sure if you should meddle.

"I am," she grinned.

You chuckled, and Rebekah began telling you the plan. You listened intently, feeling better already. You were excited, and nervous.

But mostly excited.

Rebekah's idea was to have a costume party, she loved any excuse to throw one. It also gave you a reason to dress up, to catch Elijah's eye.

You went shopping with Rebekah, she wanted to make sure you got something that would suit your figure. She asked you what sort of theme it should be and you couldn't resist choosing one that you knew well: a medieval theme.

You found a beautiful, off the shoulder, forest green dress, with a tight laced corset that had gold threading, and long, flowing, bell sleeves. It was the perfect combination of modern and historical and it made your tits look fantastic.

Rebekah had gone with a blue version of the same dress, and the two of you were having a blast getting ready. She helped you style your hair for the night and even did your makeup, making sure that your look would draw Elijah's eye.

"Ready?" She asked, as the two of you looked at yourselves in the mirror.

"Yes," you said, trying to mask your nerves.

The two of you made your way down to the courtyard, where the party was in full swing.

Everyone was dressed in costumes from various time periods, and the atmosphere was electric. The music was loud, and people were dancing, laughing, and having a good time.

You saw Hayley and Klaus talking to some guests, and your eyes wandered around the room, looking for Elijah.

He was standing by the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd. He looked incredible, his dark hair perfectly styled, wearing a black velvet suit jacket with a high collar, a blue cravat and a white dress shirt.

Hayley walked up to you and Rebekah, and complimented the both of you on your dresses. She was dressed in a Victorian era gown, complete with a corset and a large bustle.

"So, where's Elijah tonight?" Rebekah asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," Hayley said bitterly, glancing around the room.

You felt a twinge of excitement. She sounded irritated by him. Maybe she wasn't happy in their relationship.

"What's wrong ?" Rebekah asked her, squeezing your hand subtly. You loved how sneaky she could be sometimes.

"It's just," Hayley paused, her eyes narrowing as she thought about her answer. "I don't think he's very interested in a relationship with me, he's been avoiding me all night."

Rebekah and you shared a look, a smirk playing on your lips.

"He's a hard one to read, that's for sure," you said, trying to sound sympathetic.

"I'm sorry to hear that darling, but perhaps its for the best," Rebekah added.

"Maybe, I just thought we were on the same page, I thought we had something," Hayley said, a pout forming on her lips.

You could see the pain in her eyes, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for her. You knew exactly how she felt.

"You're a gorgeous woman, and any man would be lucky to have you," Rebekah said, her voice genuine.

"Thanks," Hayley said, a sad smile on her face. "There is this guy here, his name is Jack, we've been flirting all night and he wants to dance with me," she said, looking over at a tall, handsome man in a knight costume.

"Then go," Rebekah said, smiling at her.

"Yeah, you deserve some fun," you said, trying not to sound too happy that Elijah might be single.

"Alright, I'm gonna do it," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

She walked off, and Rebekah turned to you, her face breaking into a wide grin.

"How unfortunate for Hayley, how fortunate for you," she smirked.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Go, now's your chance, he's all alone." Rebekah said, her eyes scanning the room.

"I'm not going to make a fool of myself," you said, shaking your head.

"You're not going to make a fool of yourself darling, you're going to have a wonderful time," she said, giving you a little shove.

You took a deep breath and headed toward Elijah, your heart racing. He looked very similar to how he dressed in the memory he shared with you, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

He was standing alone by the bar, his gaze distant. You walked up to him and smiled, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual. "Nice outfit, all you are missing is the ponytail,” you added, grinning at him.

"Some things are better left in the past," he teased, his eyes wandering over your dress. "You look lovely," he added, a small smile on his face.

"You like the corset?" You asked, biting your lip and giving him a twirl. You always felt so giddy around him, it made you do silly things, like this.

His eyes widened, and a smirk spread across his face. "Yes, it's quite flattering," he said, his gaze lingering on your breasts.

You blushed but maintained your composure, Elijah liked confident women, and you were going to show him what he was missing.

"Does it remind you of the era?" You asked, a flirty tone in your voice.

"No, it's far too revealing for the time period," he smirked.

"Oh, really? You didn't think this was sexy in the middle ages?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," he chuckled.

"Good," you smiled, "I worked hard on this outfit."

He looked at you, his face full of curiosity.

"You are definitely thorough in your research," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I forgot to tell you I got an A+ on the paper, thank you for your help," you said, smiling brightly.

"It was a purely selfish reason, I wanted an excuse to spend time with you," he said, his words catching you off guard.

"Oh, I," you stammered, not sure how to respond.

"You are always very easy to be around," he said, giving you a gentle smile.

You smiled and nodded, his compliment filling your heart with joy.

"Care to dance?" He asked, offering you his hand.

Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat. You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand and led you to the dance floor, his grip firm and possessive.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding. He was so handsome, and the way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees.

You closed your eyes and let him lead, the feel of his hands on your body making your blood run hot. You couldn't believe this was happening, it felt surreal.

"I have a confession," he said, his voice barely audible above the music.

"What is it?" you asked, looking into his eyes.

"You make me nervous," he stuttered, his words causing your heart to flutter.

You let out a louder laugh than you meant too, then turned bright red and some people glanced at you. You didn't want him to think you were laughing at him, but you couldn't stop.

"Me? Nervous? How do I make you nervous?" You asked, genuinely curious.

He tilted his head in confusion, a wide smile forming on his face.

"I mean, look at you," he said, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You're breathtaking."

You blushed, not used to receiving such compliments. "You make me nervous too," you confessed, smiling shyly.

"I know," he smirked, causing you to blush deeper.

You gazed up at him, his brown eyes full of warmth and admiration. He truly was an incredible man.

You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes, letting the music and the feeling of his arms around you wash over you. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like you were made for each other. Your heart soared, you felt like you were dreaming.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"

Your eyes snapped open and your heart raced, his question sending a rush of heat to your core.

He wanted you.

You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand, a smirk forming on his lips as he led you toward a balcony. You followed him eagerly, your heart hammering in your chest.

The cool air hit your face, and he led you to a secluded area, away from the other party guests. You gazed at him, your desire for him overwhelming.

He placed his hands on your waist and pressed you up against the wall. His lips were mere inches from yours, his eyes burning into you.

His fingers brushed against the side of your face, then he leaned in and kissed you. It was slow and passionate, his lips soft against yours. You let out a quiet moan as you melted into his kiss.

He pulled away and looked at you, his eyes full of desire. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he breathed.

"Then why were you kissing Hayley?" You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You felt terrible for even saying it, it made you seem jealous and possessive. You knew it wasn't fair for you to get upset at him, you had no right to. But you couldn't help it.

His eyes widened and a smirk spread across his face. "So you are jealous?"

You blushed and averted your gaze.

"It was a mistake, she caught me by surprise," he explained, his fingers brushing your hair back. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

You nodded and looked up at him. He smiled and kissed you again, this time harder and more passionate.

He broke the kiss and whispered, "I've been drawn to you from the moment I met you."

Your heart soared at his words, your desire for him overwhelming. You wanted to feel his skin against yours, you needed him.

"Do you want to see my room? I have some books to share with you," you asked, knowing neither of you were doing any reading tonight.

He raised an eyebrow, "Lead the way," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Your heart pounded with excitement, and you took his hand in yours, leading him up to your room. You couldn't believe this was happening.

He closed the door behind him and kissed you, leading you backwards towards your bed. The back of your legs hit the edge and you fell down on the bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. The corset making it difficult to breath, you tried to keep calm as you looked up at him. The reality was better than any fantasy you could ever dream of.

He placed his knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss you, his hands moving over your body, his fingers tugging at the laces of the corset. He did it slowly, each pull causing your breasts to spill out a little more.

He hummed softy, leaning down and kissing your neck and collarbone as your corset fell to the ground. He was so gentle with you, treating you with care, his movements deliberate and confident.

He unlaced the front of your dress, exposing your breasts. He gazed down at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. You couldn't help but blush at his reaction.

"Did you wear this in the hope I would take it off?" He asked, his voice husky.

"Maybe," you blushed.

He chuckled, leaning down and taking one of your breasts into his mouth. You let out a soft moan as he licked and sucked your nipple, his hands kneading your breast. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

He pulled back and smiled down at you, then began to undo his cravat. You watched him eagerly, biting your lip as he pulled it off and began unbuttoning his shirt. You reached out and helped him, your hands brushing against his toned chest.

He smiled and took your hand, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. "I've dreamt of this moment for so long," he murmured.

He reached out and pulled your dress up over your head, leaving you in just your panties and stockings. His gaze was filled with desire as he looked down at you.

You felt confident under his gaze, he made you feel beautiful. He leaned down and kissed you again, his fingers running up your thighs, playfully pulling on your stocking and letting it snap back into place. You giggled at his teasing.

He smiled against your lips and tugged your panties off. His eyes raked over your body, his gaze filled with desire.

You reached out and helped him remove the rest of his clothes, your heart racing.

He lowered himself down on the bed beside you and pulled you into his arms, kissing you softly. His hand lifted your thigh around his hips, and he ran his fingers along your thigh and between your legs, a groan escaping his throat at the feel of how wet you were for him. You blushed at his reaction and looked away, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, looking down at you, his gaze tender and warm.

"A little, you're the first vampire I've been with," you admitted.

He chuckled, a wide smile on his face. "I promise I won't bite," he whispered, a hint of humor in his voice.

You couldn't help but giggle.

You ran your hand up and down his chest, then slowly down to his hard length. You took his shaft in your hand and began to stroke him, a low groan escaping his lips.

Your eyes locked, his gaze filled with desire as he watched you pleasure him. You increased the pressure of your strokes, rubbing the tip of him in your hand.

"You feel nice," you whispered, your lips inches from his own.

He smiled and pulled you on top of him, your breasts against his chest as he kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your ass. You grinded on him slowly, the feel of his cock against your pussy making you gasp.

You sat up and slowly sank down onto him, the feel of him inside of you making your breath catch in your throat. He felt so good.

"You're perfect," he whispered as he reached up and ran his fingers through your hair, gently tugging you back down to him, kissing you deeply. You began to rock on top of him, the friction causing you to moan softly. He ran his hands over your back, groaning into your ear as you rode him, taking him deeper.

It was slow, hot and sticky, the two of you getting to know each other's bodies, exploring and teasing. Your orgasm slowly built, your moans becoming more and more intense. You felt his grip on you tighten, his breathing becoming ragged.

Your heart pounded against his as he gazed up at you, a smile on his lips. His hands gripped your hips and he took control, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth. You gazed into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. You felt a connection beyond lust or attraction, something deep and beautiful, and you knew he felt it too.

You rocked together, lost in one another, and you let yourself fall apart on top of him. Your body spasming, a long moan escaping your throat as your orgasm crashed into you, your muscles clenching around him.

He gazed up at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "That's my girl," he whispered.

He gently rolled you on to your side, keeping your bodies connected. His fingers digging into your thigh as he held it against his hip, kissing and nuzzling your neck. He took you slowly, drawing out your pleasure as long as possible. His eyes never left yours, the love you felt for each other in that moment, palpable in the room.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, you tugged his head towards yours as you kissed him. He kissed you back, his movements becoming more frantic, his thrusts deep and rough.

His eyebrows arched upwards, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing. Your clung to his shoulders, moaning his name as he found his release deep inside of you. He held you close as he came down, the two of you a tangle of limbs and sweaty bodies.

He kept kissing you, soft and unhurried, his hand stroking your thigh, keeping you connected and still wrapped around him. You both caught your breath as you held each other close, neither wanting the moment to end.

"I've had a crush on you since the first day I saw you," you murmured into his ear, causing him to pull away and smile.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, "And I, you."

He gently slipped out of you and pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, his arms encircling you in his embrace. You fell asleep in each other's arms, content and happy, dreaming of more nights just like this.

{Moodboard->}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #hayley marshall #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[feralforriddle]

nobody makes me feel things.

summary: tom riddle x y/n, first person. tom starts to get really confused as to why he was feeling so many things for the sweet ravenclaw girl. but he seems to soften up pretty quick, leaving you just as confused.

a/n: my first ever fic! please give feedback if you enjoyed in the comments. this is probably super messy but i just kept typing lol. i hope u enjoy :3.

ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･+*:ꔫ:*﹤˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

'what do you want.' he says, staring at me with his dark, cold glare. i gulp, immediately regretting my decision. picking at the skin around my nails, i pluck up the courage to ask him.

'um, i was just wondering if you were still tutoring people?' i ask, looking up at him anxiously. he stares at me for a second, seemingly very confused. or is he happy? angry? honestly, it's really hard to read him. impossible even.

'yes. i do, why?' he steps closer to me, looking down and crossing his arms. it's almost like he is trying to kill me. doesn't he realize how handsome he is?

'i am struggling at the moment in potions, a-and i know you're really smart in that subject. i was wondering if you'd help me?' i ask, trying to sound confident but failing miserably. why is it so hard to talk to him? obviously everybody knows what tom is like. he has almost zero friends, and he doesn't seem to care about making any.

but i have always been intrigued by him. always watching and admiring from afar. always found him exceptionally handsome. never found any courage to talk to him, though. so now is my chance to get his attention.

do i really need help in potions? not really. it's definitely not my most successful class, but i could probably still pass without his help. but the idea of him teaching me, maybe he could show me how to make potions too, standing behind me and guiding my hands-

okay, no. i am getting truly distracted now.

i have just always been so infatuated with him. my friends call me crazy for trying this, and that they have never seen him interested in any girl before him. i have seen him glance at me before, staring a little longer than just an accidental glance. so part of me is really hopeful he sees me the same way. and i don't have enough confidence to just ask him out, which is why i thought a study session would be good.

'i can help you. what is it you need help with the most?' he says, surprisingly softer. a slight glint in his eye. it did not last long though, he returned to his usual glare.

'mainly brewing the potions, getting things perfect. sure, i get it right but, you always seem to make them perfectly' i say, complimenting him lightly to see his reaction.

i did not get much of one.

'yes, mine are perfect. i can help you. i will ask professor slughorn if we can use the potions room after class hours, he won't mind i'm sure.' he says, nodding down at me once.

i smile brightly up at him, 'thankyou tom! i'll meet you there today around 6pm then?' i ask, beyond excited to get to spend more time with him.

he nods, squinting his eyes lightly at me before turning around and leaving. he certainly is a unique boy. i turn to return to the great hall and finish my lunch.

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻

i was itching for 6pm to come faster, wiggling in my seat in my final class of the day. i need to make sure i look pretty, too. i am incredibly nervous to see him, and be alone with him too. my cheeks go red at the thought. i am probably thinking of this way differently to tom, he probably isn't even excited. but i don't care, i just wanted him to see me, to notice me.

as soon as class ended, i sprinted back to my dorm to get changed and freshen up. putting on a clean white shirt, my slightly tighter one for no particular reason at all. and my ravenclaw skirt, pilling up a little further up my thighs than normal. i do light makeup, and ruffle my hair and im ready. this is very unlike me. i never dress like this, and to be honest i feel embarrassed but i want to catch his attention somehow.

it's 5:50pm, so i grab my study books and quill, and head quickly to the classroom. he arrives just seconds after me.

'hi tom' i smile.

he stares at me for a second, glancing down at my outfit. 'what are you wearing?' he says, glaring at me for a second.

'just my uniform..' i frown, looking down at myself.

tom's head erratically turns around, checking nobody is around. 'you walked down here like this?'

'..yes?'

'get inside, quickly.' he opens the door for me, and i rush inside, very very confused as to what is happening.

he looks at me again as i sit at the desk where he clearly prepared things. 'why did i have to rush in here?'

'because i don't want anybody else to see you like this.' he grunt, putting his books down before sitting beside me.

'why's that?' i say, a little hope bubbling inside of me that maybe it's because he only wants to see me like this.

'you ask too many questions. lets just focus on this' he says, avoiding eye contact with me.

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞

the whole study session i was incredibly nervous. i couldn't write properly because my hands were shaking so much. my cheeks constantly red through the whole thing. i sigh as he packs things away, 'thankyou for helping me, tom'.

'it's okay' he says nothing else before heading to the door.

i don't know why, but he seems even less interested after that. he is barely talking to me, his body language is just telling me he is uncomfortable. maybe he figured out my little plan and it put off by it? maybe he really just doesn't like me back. maybe i'm just not confident enough for him?

perhaps i should stop trying so hard.

i grab my own things and walk to the door with him. 'i-i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable tom, i'm sure you figured out what i was doing' i say with as much courage as possible. i feel ridiculously embarrassed. he looks at me and says nothing.

his face indicates nothing. nothing whatsoever. i take a deep breath. looking at him with glossy eyes, rushing out of the potions classroom and back to my dorm.

i jump on my bed, pushing my face in the pillow and letting a few tears go. i thought it would work, i really did think he might like me back. i was stupid to think so. he doesn't really feel anything for anyone. and i made such a fool of myself, trying to flirt or complimenting me, wearing this revealing uniform. oh god i want the ground to swallow me hole.

i just curl up into a ball and fall asleep soon after.

tom on the other hand, is left feeling very very confused. he doesn't know why he feels this way, why did he get a pang in his chest when he saw my glossy eyes? why couldn't he seem to breathe properly around me? he has never felt this way for anybody and he doesn't know what to do.

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞

the next day i head to breakfast, nervous about seeing tom there. he always sits at the end of the table alone, so it's inevitable he will see me as i walk into the great hall. i try and get there as early as possible, hoping i arrive before he does.

but no, he is sat there, and his head shoots up the second he sees me walk into the hall. my cheeks flush insanely red, my hands beginning to sweat a little as i feel his burning gaze on me.

i rush to the table, sitting by myself at the end too, not really wanting to tell my friends what happened.

tom sees me sitting alone and furrows his eyebrows. before even thinking, he stands up and walks over to sit directly opposite me on the ravenclaw table. i look up at him and panic.

'why are you sitting alone?' he says, staring at me.

'um, i just didn't feel like talking to my friends this morning' i gulp, frantically trying to avoid his gaze. he glances down to see them all staring with their jaws dropped.

'pathetic.' he mutters.

'you think im pathetic?' i say, eyes softening at him.

'no, quite the opposite' he mumbles, nodding his head down the table. 'that is pathetic'. my cheeks flush a little as i giggle at him. looking back up at him, i give him a soft smile.

'why did you come over here, tom?'

'because i don't want to see you sitting by yourself.' he says, taking a bite of his breakfast. 'come on, eat something. we have class soon'.

i do as he says, of course, but i am also extremely confused as to what is happening. from how he was acting yesterday, to this? i am very confused. but secretly i am really enjoying this.

'so, how about another study tonight?' he says bluntly. my eyes nearly shoot out of their sockets and my heart nearly came out of my chest.

'o-oh, um sure' i smile, covering my nerves.

'and you can wear that little outfit again. just don't let anybody see you on the way'. i nod quickly at him. and we quietly had breakfast together. he walked me to my class, which left my hiding my smile under my hand in class.

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞

i take a deep breath as i wait for tom to arrive outside of the class. i tap my feet on the floor in anticipation. my god, am i nervous.

'get inside, quick' he says, opening the door for me again.

i smile a little, rushing inside and sitting back in my normal seat. but there is nothing here set up to study like last time. he raised an eyebrow at me and slowly walks over as i look at him confused.

'what are we doing today tom if there isn't anything here?' i ask, turning to him as he sits beside me.

'oh i think we both know studying isn't the reason we are doing this' he says, turning to me slightly.

i almost choke on the air.

'i don't know what you've done to me, but i can't stop thinking about you' he sighs. 'it's awful, really. i haven't ever felt this way before, i was up most of the night figuring my feelings out. now i worry i am stuck, wanting you with me at all times when i can't'.

'yes, you can'. i jump to answer. 'just give me the word and i'm yours'.

'mine?' he hums, as i stand up and stand in between his legs, looking up at him.

'yours'.

he puts his hand on the side of my face. 'i hope you know what you've gotten yourself into. I'm not easy, darling'. he sighs.

'i'll get used to it' i smile.

'if i see any other man in the same proximity as you, i can't promise i won't hex them'.

'id like that' i hum.

'come here' he murmurs, pulling me closer into him, connecting his lips onto mine. and i melt. i've been wanting this for so long. his tongue swipes against my bottom lip, deepening the kiss as my hands wrap around his neck, pulling him to stand with me and wrap his arms around my waist.

'lets go back to my dorm. i have my own dorm because i hate everyone.' he mumbles against my lips. i giggle at him, pulling back and nodding. 'lets go' i agree.

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞

the next morning, i walk into the great hall for breakfast. tom's eyes find mine as he gives me a very small, but cheeky grin.

he stands up and walks over to my table before i can sit down.

he grabs my chin, pressing a kiss against my lips softly right in front of all my friends. as if to prove a point.

'see you in class, baby'.

i smile at him as he walks back to the slytherin table. i look down at my friends,

'what on earth?!' they shout.

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥

a/n; and we're done! please give me feedback if you liked this, or not. my first ever fic ahh! <3 love u angels.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #hogwarts #harry potter #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #voldemort

[munsonslove]

Make It Up to You

(18+ only) (read part 2 here)

summary: After Eddie’s van stalls when he tries to leave your party, you invite him to stay the night.

wordcount: 5.3k

tags/warnings: fem!virgin!sub!reader (18+ and a high school graduate), softdom!Eddie, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, praise kink, sharing a bed, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dacryphilia, teasing, begging, use of pet names (baby, babygirl, pretty girl, sweetheart, sweetie, good girl), no use of y/n

a/n: first fic! kinda set it up for a part 2, so let me know if you want one~

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, baby?” Eddie asks as he ever so slightly grazed his fingertips up your thigh. You think back to where you were at the start of your day and wonder how you ended up here.

-

After unexpectedly learning that morning you would be home alone for the entire weekend you wasted no time calling up all your friends and telling them to come over after dark. Most of them were your fellow band nerds at the high school you graduated from a month prior, along with a handful of tutoring clients that you had kept in touch with. The first person you called was your best friend of the past four years, Robin Buckley. She, of course, is more than excited to hear the news, and tells you she’ll cover letting ‘the gang’ know.

‘The gang’ she’s referring to is the rather surprising group of friends she’s accumulated this past year. Steve Harrington’s been around the longest, having worked with Robin at the ice cream parlor in the mall that burned down last summer, and now at Family Video. Though you were skeptical at first that spending time with the former King of Hawkins High would be enjoyable, you quickly came to see why Robin loved him so much. Your duo with her became a trio, and despite the sneaking suspicion that the two were hiding something from you, having him as a friend made you happier than planned. The next unanticipated friendly addition was Nancy Wheeler. You didn’t know much about her back in school, just that she was head of the newspaper and Steve’s ex. Getting to know her now, she’s impressed you with her tenacity and cleverness. It’s clear why someone like her would get along so well with your Robin, but you still wondered how this relationship even came to be. Whenever you questioned them they gave vague answers and changed topics, so you ultimately decided to just give up on the subject.

Then there was Eddie.

Eddie Munson may have been the most unpredictable out of all of them. Sure, being in the marching band meant you and Robin rolled with the outcasts, but he was a different breed of outcast. His bold personality- often resulting in causing scenes in the halls and outbursts in the cafeteria- has always intrigued you. And though most wouldn’t have suspected it from someone like you, you found his personal aesthetic very attractive. You didn’t live in a strict household by any means, but that was only because you never exhibited the type of rebellious nature that made it necessary. Still, the lure of loud music, drugs, and taboo role playing games (that may or may not have to do with Satanism) was too tantalizing to ignore completely. You often found yourself gazing his way during your time in school and daydreaming, even back in freshman year when he was a junior. Coming back from spring break to see your best friend laughing at her locker with the super-super senior of your desires was definitely a shock.

Pretty soon it was nightfall and your backyard was packed with 18-20 year olds drinking lukewarm beers, happy to have a distraction from their impending dooms of adulthood. Luck was on your side tonight, seeing as your neighbors to the left were out of town, and the ones to the right were so old they wouldn’t hear a fire truck’s siren if it was directly outside their window. The tape playing from the boombox was a mix specially curated by yours truly to appease as many party goers as possible. So while it included Bowie, Blondie, and Beatles, it also had Black Sabbath. Every time a song came on that you picked out with Eddie in mind he would lock eyes with you, throwing a knowing and toothy smile your way. The confirmation that something you did pleased him brought butterflies to your stomach, and filled your mind with ideas on how to see that smile again.

Just to be on the safe side, you still kept the music as low as you could without hearing complaints from anyone. And by anyone, you meant Eddie, who liked his radio blasting so loud he could feel his eardrums vibrate. He did, however, turn the volume down out of courtesy whenever he picked you up for group hangouts. The gesture of that alone caused your heart to flutter more than it should have, and left you feeling like you were floating in his passenger seat. Him placing his hand on your knee while he drove would always bring you back down to Earth, though, along with migrating the fluttering feeling to a different part of your body. Distracted by the memory of his skin on yours, you don’t notice him making his way over to you until you feel his arm snake its way around your torso.

He stays by your side the remainder of the night, even as the crowd starts to thin out by around 2am. You’re left completely alone with him when Nance and Rob get into Steve’s car and drive off. You try to tell him he doesn’t need to stick around to clean, but he insists and helps pick up the crushed aluminum cans and red solo cups from your lawn. It doesn’t take long, much to your disappointment, and the easy conversation and inside jokes come to an early end as you walk with him around the side of your house. You both drop the trash bags filled with proof of a successful night of partying on the curb by the garbage bins his van was parked next to, and he pulls you into a hug. With a kiss to the top of your head (a habit he picked up early on in your friendship), he says his final goodbye and slides into his front seat. You wait patiently to see him off, but the stalling of his engine puts those plans to rest. He gets back out, returning to your side with a sheepish grin and explains that his engine’s been acting up recently and he hasn’t had the chance to get a look under the hood quite yet. Just as he’s about to ask if you have a toolbox laying around somewhere, you suggest that he should stay the night, since it’s already so late anyway.

“You sure you don’t mind? I didn’t mean to back you into a corner or anything, baby,” he asks, using his favorite pet name for you.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “Of course I don’t mind. We’re friends!”

The word ‘friend’ brings a soft smile to his face that confusingly doesn’t reach his eyes. The reassurance does calm his nerves about intruding, however, and he allows you to lead him to your house. Once you're both a little closer, he walks ahead so that he can open the front door and gestures for you to enter first.

“So,” he starts as he shuts the door behind himself and locks it, “do I get a tour of your bedroom before you send me to the couch?”

The sudden surge of audacity you feel comes out of the blue. In the past, the only time you’d been this forward with Eddie was when you were at the very least tipsy, but neither of you had had more than a couple beers tonight. So it was as much to his sober surprise as it was yours when you responded, “You don’t want to sleep with me?”

His eyes widen, jaw dropping to bring his mouth to an ‘O’ shape, but he quickly recovered to his signature smirk. “Well I certainly wouldn’t say no to that,” he chuckles, tone dripping innuendo on the final word.

The implication of what you said hits you like a freight train, and you scramble to correct yourself. “I just meant- I don’t mind sharing the bed! The air conditioning in the living room isn’t as good as mine, and it’s such a hot night-“

“Relax, sweetheart,” he interjects, using his second favorite pet name for you. “I’m just teasing. Trying to make you blush.” You suspect he succeeded in his attempt, if the warmth in your cheeks has anything to say about it.

Turning on your light, Eddie takes in his surroundings. He skims over your music collection, runs his fingers along the spines of your books, laughs quietly at the small collection of stuffed animals you still had from when you were a kid. Usually you would have felt embarrassed, but his laughter held no malice. He wasn’t making fun of you, simply reacting. You waited for his comment about your cuteness- a common adjective he’d use that you’d at first confused as mocking until realizing he meant it as a compliment- but it never came. Your room is slightly chilly, but it feels good on your skin after spending hours in the humid summer air. It even wasn’t that messy, thankfully, and the inviting softness of your bed was tempting you like a siren call despite your doubt that you’d be able to get any sleep with Eddie laying beside you. The man in question catches your attention again, tearing you from your racing thoughts by pulling his t-shirt over his head and unbuttoning his jeans.

“I sleep in just boxers, is that a problem? I mean, you know I don’t have a change of clothes or anything,” he explains.

“Yeah, totally fine!” you assure, trying not to be too obviously excited by the view of his tattoos on full display, “No big deal. Like really, it’s okay.” Admittedly, the reassurance was more to convince yourself than him.

He nods and takes his pants off- balling them up and tossing them to the side, then pulls back your duvet and crawls into bed, leaving enough room for you to get in as well. He lays on his side, one of his hands supporting his head as he stares at you expectedly. His unabashed behavior while undressing soothed your anxiety slightly, encouraging you to yank down and kick off your own jeans. You make the choice to actively ignore Eddie’s amusement at your eagerness. Normally this is when your bra would come off, but you decided instead to just leave it on, nervous that removing said item would be viewed as a step too far. Turning off your light, you slide in under the covers next to the boy you’ve had eyes for since you were 14.

You only have a full size mattress, so although the both of you fit it was unlikely the night would pass without making contact. The thought of even accidentally feeling his touch in your bed, in the dark, with neither of you wearing pants… It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. You didn’t know if you should hope for or avoid it. Logically, in the long run it would be better for your own well-being to not let yourself fall too hard for someone who only thought of you as a friend, so you chose the latter. You tried to give him plenty of space and hoped he didn’t notice your slinking away from him. He noticed.

“What’s wrong pretty girl? Scared to touch me?” he jokes. If only he knew the truth in his statement. You deny it with a curt head shake, and he shoots you an unimpressed look at the obvious lie. Knowing he wouldn’t drop it, you exhale a shaky breath and scooch more toward the center of the bed. He still persists though, and your mind short circuits when he leans in close to whisper, “If you’re not scared, how about you let me hold you?” 

He’s challenging you, and you’re not about to back down. You nod and roll over to face away from him before that little voice in your mind can tell you this is a bad idea. He wraps one of his arms around your torso- hand resting against the underside of your boob, his pelvis pressed firmly against your behind, and his leg found its way to be sandwiched between yours, thigh warm against your core. With the humiliating realization that there’s only a single layer of fabric between your growing wetness and his bare skin, you try to discreetly position yourself in a way where he might not be able to tell you’re practically dripping just from cuddling alone.

“Why are you squirming, baby?” he hums in your ear, breaking the silence in the room as he flattens his palm against the area just above your belly button and holds you tighter against himself. “Are you not comfortable?”

He’s not hard, but the thin materials of his and your underwear isn’t enough to stop you from feeling his length settle in between your ass cheeks. You hold back a moan and force out “I am comfortable, I just… Um…”

He props himself up on the arm that was previously under his head and scoots away just far enough that he can take your shoulder and roll you onto your back, urging you to look at him. The light of the streetlamps outside filter in through the thin slots of the blinds on your window and illuminate your face, allowing him to see you clearly. 

“Aw sweetie, you’re blushing so pretty for me,” he murmurs, bringing his hand up to stroke your cheek. With a start, you realize from the gleam in his eyes that he’s teasing you.

You angrily push his hand away and accuse him just that. He doesn’t even try to deny it. Throwing the blanket off of you, you sit up and glare at him. He simply says that he ‘couldn’t help it’, and that ‘you just kept getting cuter the more and more flustered you became’. 

“Is this a joke to you? I’m just some… some…” you struggle for the right words, clearly upset. “Some dumb girl for you to play around with when you know you have no intention of returning her feelings?” 

His teasing sneer immediately fades as he follows you into a sitting position. “No sweetheart. Believe me, I never saw you that way,” he promises, “You’re so important to me.”

Your annoyance dissipates, hope blossoming in your chest. “Do you swear?”

“On my guitar.” he replies, smiling with you when you let out a small chuckle. A moment of quiet passes, the both of you just looking at each other. His flirtatious tone returns as he lightly caresses your thigh and says, “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, baby?”

-

You’re brought back to the present when his hand on your bare thigh slipped underneath the hem of your baggy t-shirt and crept up the softness of your hips to pause at your waist.

“I could feel how hot you got against my thigh,” he whispers, dragging you closer to him then continuing the path of his hand upward until you could feel his calloused, guitarist fingertips along the underwire of your bra. “I could feel your pulse,” he practically growled, and you gasp out the air you were unconsciously holding, shocked by his statement. He pulls you closer even still, until you're nearly on his lap. His lips are almost touching your ear, and the hot breath released with his next words send a shiver straight through you. 

“Just say yes, baby. That’s all I need from you. A yes.” You turn to look at his eyes and see no trace of humor. 

“Yes.”

He removes his hand out from under your shirt so that he can take either side of your jaw. “If at any point you want me to stop, say the word and I will,” he tells you. Before you can question why you would ever want him to stop, he leans in and connects your lips.

The kiss is slow but firm, and you have to stop yourself from thinking about the women that frequent the Hideout on Tuesday nights, wondering if they have something to do with his supposed expertise. There’s no time for jealousy right now, not when Eddie’s brushing his tongue against your lower lip, wordlessly asking for entry. You grant permission, and when you feel the foreign muscle flexing next to your molars, you moan into his mouth. Eddie stops the kiss and laughs when that causes you to whine.

“Come here,” he says. “Straddle me.” So you do. 

Sitting astride his lap with your knees bent and tucked beneath you, you place your hands on his shoulders. His own hands slip underneath your shirt once more, palms pressed flat against your lower back as he kissed you again, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, biting gently, and pulling away. You hear a quiet ‘plop’ noise as it snaps back into place. He starts kissing just below your jaw and navigates his hands to your sides, latching onto your waist. His grip tightens as he starts rocking you against himself. 

You gasp, feeling his dick harden. “Oh Eds-“ but cut yourself off with your hand to your mouth.

His kiss leaves your jaw and his touch leaves one side of your waist as he roughly pulls the guilty hand away from your mouth, holding it raised beside your head. “Don’t try to be quiet,” he demands with an authoritative tone. You’re surprised by the sudden ordering, but the domineering was not unwelcome. His expression lightens and he relaxes as he explains, “It’s just us here. Let me hear all the pretty noises you make. The ones I've been imagining every night for weeks.”

The confession startles you even more than the ordering. “You think of me at night?” He hums in confirmation, letting go of your hand. It stays frozen in the air though, the shock from the image of him touching himself and getting off to the thought of you causing your brain to go blank.

“At night,” he presses a kiss to your neck, “the morning,” one to your collarbone, “afternoon,” another to the small bit of shoulder he can get to from where your shirt slid down. He looks up, his nose brushes against yours. “When I'm watching TV, playing guitar, planning campaigns... all the time. You don’t know what you do to me.”

Hearing that he’s been feeling the way you’ve felt for years drives you crazy. You grab his face and kiss him greedily, groaning when you feel him smile against your mouth and pull away yet again. 

“I know you think about me too, babygirl. I know you’ve been thinking of me,” he accuses. Your embarrassment is ignored as he continues, “I see how you look at me. I see how your eyes bulge outta your head whenever my shirt rides up and you can see my happy trail.”

“What?” you yelp, “You knew you were turning me on?” He starts laughing, and presses his face into the crook of your neck. “Eds, I thought I was a perv! I felt dirty!”

His humor vanished abruptly. He raised his head and stared directly into your soul, before growling, “Oh, I can make you feel dirty.” A shiver went up your spine as he started rocking you against him again, “I can make you feel really dirty. Do you want me to, baby?”

“Please.”

He grins widely. “You begging sounds even better than I imagined. Keep moving your hips for me, okay?” His hands stop guiding your movements as they leave your waist to travel up your front, bunching the fabric as he groped your chest over your shirt. You moan wantonly and do as he says, grinding on his cock without any direction. 

“You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart,” he praises, “Good girl.” 

He’s never used that before. You’ve heard ‘pretty girl’, ‘babygirl’… never ‘good girl’. You like it. A lot. You never realized how much you wanted to be a good girl for Eddie. How much you wanted to be his good girl.

“Raise your arms,” he commands, and you obey without question. You hold still for him as he pulled your shirt off, but once the cool chill of your air conditioned bedroom finally hit your heated skin, you immediately continued grinding against him. Despite this, his nimble fingers were able to skillfully undo your bra, and he ripped it from your body like it was a personal offense. He quickly seized the opportunity to take one of your nipples into his warm, wet mouth. One hand found its way to the flesh of your ass, fingers digging in and probably leaving marks, while the other massaged the breast not being attacked by his tongue. Your movement grew desperate, hips aggressively meeting his as you threw your head back in pleasure and made ridiculous lewd noises that you never even knew you were capable of. After a while he switched sides, making sure to give the other nipple the same amount of attention. 

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned when his lips finally left your chest, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He was mesmerized by the sight of your tits bouncing in his face as you humped him. Your vulgar wailing never stopped as his lips went on with their assault to the delicate skin of your neck, in fact it impossibly raised in volume. “I bet you could cum just like this, couldn’t you? Before I even get my hands on that pretty pussy.” You glanced down at him and nodded dumbly, lost in the feeling. “God, you're so responsive. No one’s ever made it feel this good before, huh?”

Your grinding stutters momentarily before picking back up again, and you look away, trying to keep your expression as unreadable as possible. His brows furrowed in confusion before it finally clicked. “Sweetheart,” he says, taking your waist and halting your movement, “you’ve never been with anyone else?”

You hesitate to answer. “Are you going to make fun of me if I say I haven't?”

His disbelief is palpable, but he shakes his head no anyway. “Of course not, silly. I just wish I had known. I got you doing all the work and it’s your first time.” He lifts you off of his lap, his voice going from comforting to seductive as he says, “Lay back for me, baby. I'm gonna make it good for you. I don't want you thinking about anything except for how amazing it feels, understand?”

You bit your lip and nodded, climbing the rest of the way off of him and laying down lengthwise on the bed as Eddie stood up. You expected to get on top, but to your surprise he instead cupped his hands under your armpits and manhandled you so that you were horizontal across the bed. He grabbed your hips and positioned them on the edge of the mattress, your legs hanging off the side, with knees bent and feet on the floor. Then, he got down on his knees in front of you.

You pushed yourself up just in time to see his awestruck face when he spread your thighs apart. “Jesus, baby,” he gushed, “you soaked through your panties.” You can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed when he presses the pad of his thumb to where your clit is under the fabric. Your elbows give way under you and you fall onto your back, moaning loud. One of your thighs involuntarily twitches, rising up above his head as your calf tucked in and your toes curled. “All worked up aren’t you? Poor thing. I’m sorry for making you wait so long.” He holds your already raised leg in place, then slides his hand under your other thigh, hoisting that one up as well. With both of your legs elevated, he dips his fingers under the elastic of your underwear. “Up,” he instructs.

You dig your heels into the edge of the mattress and use them as support so you can do as he says. Once your hips are off the bed, he slides the panties off and down. You lower yourself and lift your heels, and Eddie finally pulls the last of the clothing off of your body. He tosses the garment to the side, not caring where it lands. After your feet lowered to rest on the floor again, he took your knees in both hands and spread you wide open, putting your drenched folds on full display. He kissed his way up to the apex of your thigh and you tensed, preparing yourself for his first contact with your aching center, only for him to turn his head and repeat this gesture on the opposite side.

“Pl-please Eds,” you disturb his actions with a broken voice, head thrown back again, this time in frustration instead of pleasure. “Please touch me. Please. I can’t- I’m so- Fuck.” Desperate and pathetic, you grasp both of his hands in yours as you look back down at him. “I'm so horny, I think I might literally, actually explode,” you exaggerate. “Please make me cum. Please, I can't take it.” 

He stares back at you slack mouthed and expressionless as you finish shamelessly begging. Your eyes bore into his, absolutely pleading. Finally, he smirks and leans down to lick a single straight line directly up your pussy. You squeeze his fingers- letting out a relieved groan, and he finds it so sweet sounding that he wished he brought a tape recorder. 

“So good for me, telling me exactly what you need and asking so politely,” he praises as he frees one of his hands from yours and starts rubbing slow, lazy circles on your clit. “Such good manners. Behavior like that should be rewarded, don't you think?”

“Yes. Oh my god.” It’s dark in your room, what with it being nearly 4 in the morning and the only source of light still being what little is coming in through your blinds. It does cast a slight glow as it bounces off your walls though, so despite the darkness Eddie swears he can see glistening in your eyes as you carry on rambling aimlessly. “Oh my god, thank you. Please, Eds.”

Eddie truly did mean to stop teasing you and get on with it, but the sight of you being so desperate to cum that you were reduced to tears shocks him so much he goes still. You sob out pitifully as you let go of his other hand and throw both of your arms over your face, hiding in the crooks of your elbows. He almost feels bad, but he can’t deny the deep throbbing it causes in his lower region.

“Are you crying baby?” he asks as he begins rubbing his hands up and down your thighs as if trying to console you. “You’re crying for me? I got you that needy?” You start squirming on the bed, and your feet stomp on the floor behind him. 

“Watch it now,” he chastised, his hands stilling and his grip tightening, “Remember what we said about good behavior being rewarded? Throwing a temper tantrum will get you nowhere.” You removed your face from its hiding spot and threw your arms back dramatically on the space of the bed above you. Your eyes strain, trying to force your vision to work better in the dark, and you can just barely make out Eddie’s stern expression. His eyebrow raised, “You want to be my good girl right?”

You feel a tear roll down your cheek as you try and fail to keep your voice steady. “I do want to be your good girl! But I've been so patient-“

“I’ll decide when you’ve been patient,” he interrupts strictly, cutting off your complaining. You almost protest, but think better of it and say nothing. “Tell me who’s in charge,” he demands.

“You are,” you comply willingly, stopping your squirming, “You’re in charge. I’ll behave.”

He smiles and loosens his grip “There we go,” he goes back to rubbing your clit, this time faster, with more pressure. You let out a whimper, your moaning starting up again. “Now was that so hard? Since it’s your first time, I’ll forgive your little outburst. Be grateful I’m feeling nice.” He can almost make out the ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’s hidden in between your whines.

Pulling his thumb away, he puts his tongue to work. He massages your clit up and down and side to side, until coming to the conclusion that spirals get the best response out of you. “Oh, found the way you like it, did I?” he asks between licks, “Is this the way your fingers do it when you’re all alone and thinking about me?” 

You nod vigorously. Your eyes squeezed shut at some point, and you might draw blood with how hard you’re biting your lower lip. Reaching down, you comb your fingers through Eddie’s hair as he swirls his tongue in circles. Pretty soon, you are grasping at the bedsheets, heels dug into his shoulder blades, toes curling. You’re loud, but speaking no words. Your head is completely empty and all you can focus on in the coil inside of you growing tighter, and tighter, and tighter. Suddenly, you feel Eddie slide two fingers into you and curl them upwards. You gasp so hard you nearly choke.

He lifts his mouth from your clit, quickly moving to continue the motions with his thumb, the fingers on his other hand working their way in and out of you fast and hard. “You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” 

You look down at him with pleading, teary eyes. “Can I?”

That response causes his actions to falter ever so slightly, then he carries on with even more force than before. His fingers speed up, pumping in and out of you and hitting you just perfectly in the right spot every time, and your moans get impossibly louder. “So well behaved for me, asking permission. Fuck babygirl. You can cum. Whenever you want to, you can cum.”

He returns his mouth to you and sucks in while circling his tongue. That was all it took for you to start spasming underneath him. You came so quickly after Eddie giving the okay that it was easy for him to tell you’d been holding it back for a while. He keeps his fingers inside of you during your climax, wanting to feel the way your walls tightened and clenched around them. The assault on your swollen clit never ceases, helping you to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible, and he only eased off when the sensitivity caused you to push him away. He pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean before standing and kissing his way up your trembling body as you struggle to catch your breath. Picking you up from under your armpits again, he drags you to the middle of the mattress, lays you longways, then lifts his knees onto the bed to crawl on top of you. When he sees your blissed out face he can’t help but kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. In between pecks, he strokes your hair and whispers comforts like ‘I got you’ and ‘Breathe, sweetheart, you did so well’. After about 5 minutes, you begin to regain your composure slightly, or at least enough to look at Eddie and see the adoration in his eyes. The sincerity in his expression makes your stomach flip, and it honestly almost feels like a small wave of aftershocks. He kisses at your neck again, sucking and biting slowly as he starts grinding on your thigh. You glance down, face full of lust as your eyes travel past his tattoos and body hair, until finally settling on the impressively sized tent he was still sporting.

“I want to make you cum, too,” you proclaim as you slide your hand down his abdomen until you reach his boxers and lightly graze his bulge.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he says, taking your chin in his hand and pulling you into a slow kiss. “We’re not done yet. Just letting you have a little breather.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic

[jpitha]

Wild Sky

“How long will it feel like?”

“Less than a second. Your time in the pod will feel so short that you’ll think something is broken.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay then, Sign me up.” Ellen didn’t particularly want to take a stasis pod instead of a hibernation cabinet, but the last time she went into hibernation, she had… complications upon awakening. She was severely injured from an error on warming, and lost her right arm, right lung and half of her liver. The organs were regrown, and the limb replaced, but her doctor warned her to not hibernate anymore. Ellen figured that was that, and she was stuck on this planet. 

Until she read the news on her pad a few years later.

“Volunteers needed for sapient level trials of a new technology! Free interstellar travel!”

Intrigued, Ellen checked it out. She would try nearly anything to get off this planet.  Especially since Trish left her. 

It had turned out that scientists at the university had developed a ‘stasis’ system. It created a field where time did not pass. Even better, power is only needed to create and break the field. Once set, the stasis field is stable. You could cook a holiday meal for one hundred people, put it in stasis, and take a serving from it until it was gone, safe in the knowledge that even if it took you weeks, each plate would taste as good and the first. From the perception of the meal, all the servings were taken at once. 

Figuring it was her only way off this rock, Ellen signed up for the trial. She was subjected to weeks of examinations by all kinds of doctors. She was the first candidate with regrown organs and artificial limbs as well, so the scientists were extra excited about putting her in stasis. 

After about half a year, she was approved for the program. The first trip was going to be just for a day, in the offices of the university. Should that one go without a problem she and the other candidates would be placed aboard a ship and sent wherever they wanted It would be one ship with dozens of pods.  It didn’t matter how many months they traveled to all the destinations of the passengers, no time would pass for them.

As Ellen settled into the stasis pod, she chuckled to herself. For something that she was going to only spend a few seconds inside, it was very comfortable. Cozy even. She settled into the seat and clipped a short cord from the pod to the sensor suite on her wrist. As she did, her name and vitals appeared in the clear window on the pod. 

“We have good telemetry Ellen, we’re going to set the field, all right?” The doctor peered over the lip of the pod. It was a good deal larger than a regular hibernation cabinet, and the doctor was standing on a little stool.

“How long will I be out?” Now that she was in the pod, she yawned.

“Like I said, just a day Ellen. We’ll see you Wednesday morning. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried, I was hoping I could get a nap, it’s so comfy in here”

The doctor chuckled. “It’s like that on purpose. The pods are designed to help put people at ease. That, combined with the mild sedative we gave you should make this no more scary than lying down in bed.”

Ellen blinked. A sedative? “No wonder I’m so tired. I’m high as hell!”

The doctor held up a hand. “Just a bit, and it’s fast acting. It’ll wear off by lunchtime, your time. All part of the waiver you signed.”

Mentally, Ellen shrugged. She did feel fine. Almost floaty. “All right Doc, whenever you’re ready.”

He looked down at his pad and made some notations. “Okay Ellen, we’re going to close the lid now.”

With a light hum, the lid game down. Ellen felt her ears pop as the pressure changed.

“Everything is green Ellen. As soon as the capacitors charge, we’re going to set the field. See you tomorrow!” The doctor’s voice sounded tinny over the connection. 

“All right Doc, see you tomorrow!”

“Field set in three… Two…”

There was a flash of silver, and it was dark in the pod. Ellen looked at the lights glowing inside. The window on the top was mirrored and she just saw a reflection of herself. Woman, late thirties, hair closely cropped to hide the grey and for ease of care; she never felt really ‘girly’ and didn’t keep her hair long or wear much makeup. She had just recently broken up with her long term girlfriend and thought this would be a source of an interesting story for future dates if nothing else. 

Funny, the doctor had said that her perception of time would be so short that she would wonder if it had worked at all. She was still lying here wondering what was going on. Maybe the doctor had misrepresented how long it would feel like for her to put anyone with claustrophobia at ease.  

They checked her for that though. The psych said she had none.

She wondered how long it had been. Surely, this was the right amount of time?

How long had it been?

She counted heartbeats.  She knew her heart rate was around 70 beats per minute, so she could get a rough idea how long she was in the pod from counting heartbeats.  In the silence of the pod, her heart was loud in her ears. She even thought she could hear her blood flow. 

After about ten minutes of counting by her reckoning she was bored and looked around more.

How much longer could it be?

Surely they’ll be here now?

All of the indicators on the side of the pod were dark. The telemetry information must reside outside of the stasis field. She was alone with her thoughts.

Isn’t it done yet?

There was a hum, rising in her ears and becoming louder and louder. Rising to a deafening crescendo it ended with a click like a relay. The top of her pod turned clear.

An unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe they moved the pod in between yesterday and today. It was beige with diffused lighting which didn’t seem to come from anywhere. Even though the field had disappeared, the lid still didn’t open.

A moment later, the lid opened with a pop of pressure and Ellen’s ears popped again. Unfamiliar smells flooded the pod. None were unpleasant as such, but she didn’t recognize any of them. Like, a new apartment or a friend’s house, it smelled unfamiliar. 

Ellen sat up. “Wow, that felt way longer than just a moment Doc, for the next group of people you should… tell… them…” 

Ellen looked around and her eyes focused.

The doctor wasn’t there. 

Three… beings dressed in long, emerald green robes stared back at her. They weren’t human.

They weren’t human! What the hell was going on?

“What’s going on? Who are you?”

The middle being stepped forward. They spoke. Ellen didn’t understand the language, it had a warbling, vibrating quality, almost like you would have to feel it as much as hear it. At their… waist was a box. It spoke in hundreds of languages, almost all at once. While it spoke a blue light shone on her face. With a warbling noise as it hunted and searched, it finally said something she understood. It said “There… has been… a sit-u-a-tion.” 

Wild eyed, Ellen looked up at the head of the one who had the box that spoke. They had large, compound eyes, like a fly and their faces were an iridescent green.

There must be some mistake. A trick, a prank. Panicking, Ellen jumped out of the pod and searched the room. She was nowhere near the laboratory at the university. She had no idea where she was. The room was the same uniform color of the ceiling with the invisible diffused light. Other than the three beings and her pod, the room was empty. There. A door behind them. She ran out the door, down a hall. She was beyond thought now, she just needed to get out. 

Things will make sense when she’s somewhere else.

She ran toward a door that looked like an exit and was outside. 

She looked up and gasped. She was so surprised that she lost her footing and fell down. Rolling on her back she looked up and saw the sky.

A wild sky. Turquoise with clouds in cotton candy pink. Looking further she could see a… structure in the sky. A large latticework, trailing off into the distance, made hazy by the atmosphere. The structure must be very high in the sky, and very very large.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, staring up at the strange sky. Eventually the being from the room with the box came up to her. He bent low - at least they have knees. Ellen actually stopped her panic to have that thought and the idea that at least they have knees brought her a small measure of comfort.

“We… are… sorry….” The box was getting better at translating. She wondered if she was able to help it when she shouted at them.

“How long has it been?” Her eyes flicked away from the sky to the compound eyes of the being.

“We do not… know…” They made a gesture with their hands. 4 fingers. “A long… time.”

Ellen wept. What else could she do

#writing #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are deathworlders #humans and aliens #jpitha #humans are space oddities #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians

[obeyme-and-myfics]

Prompt: Y/N had a nightmare and asks comfort

Characters: Barbatos, Diavolo, Simeon, and Solomon

✨🌸Fluff🌸✨

Y/N is going to be gender neutral to the best of my abilities. They/Them Pronouns, and I’m going to try and avoid gendered descriptors <3 Also tysm for all the love on the last post! I really appreciate it and I'm glad I could feed my fellow simps (✿◡‿◡)

I'm also gonna apologize now for possibly being out of character for anyone and also not adding Mephisto, Thirteen or Raphael. I Haven't met them yet so I don't want to write for them just yet but I will in the future. Anyway onwards to the story (╯▽╰ )

TW/CW: Not describing what was in the nightmare but if that ambiguity bothers you and makes your mind spiral please don’t read and have a wonderful night, 

Part 1 | Part 2(here)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N jolted upright, holding their chest as it felt as if their heart would run away. They tried to calm their breathing and their thoughts, unable to shake the horrors their subconscious cruelly subjected them to. They took some deep breaths and manage to calm themself enough to look at the time. They squinted as their D.D.D lights up and the numbers display on the screen. It was late. They wondered if it may be too late to ask for comfort from someone. Taking another deep breath both to sooth their shaky hands and for some courage, they opened their contacts to make a phone call.

Diavolo

Y/N stared at Diavolo's contact for a moment. Sure he certainly wouldn't mind comforting them in this time of need, in fact he'd be eager to help his human but the real problem came with his royalty status. He was a very important man and they didn't want to stop him from performing his royal duties. They bit their lip and breathed in before clicking the call button. The phone rings for a bit before he picked up.

"Y/N!" his voice raspy and tired like he had just woken up, yet still sounding excited as he spoke, "what are you doing up so late? Is there something you need?"

"Yeah it is late," Y/N laughed a little, "I was wondering if you could stay on the phone for a bit," they made their quiet request shyly.

"Might I ask why?" Dia questioned, now intrigued by such a simple request.

"I had a nightmare and I really don't want to be alone," they felt their cheeks heating up with embarrassment as the demon prince let out a soft chuckle.

"Of course I can do that for you. Are you sure you just want me to stay on the phone? It would be much easier to comfort you in person," his voice softened, taking on a loving tone with not a trace of mockery.

"I mean yeah but I don't want to bother you too much. You probably have more important things to attend to."

"In this moment, you're the most important thing I have to tend to. I'll be there momentarily, be patient for me, okay?" he hung up, and left Y/N a bit flustered.

They rushed down the halls, and to the front door. Y/N paced around impatiently unlike what Diavolo had requested of them. They were excited yet anxious, worried about possibly making Dia lose sleep but happy to be held. Diavolo soon walked in, a grin decorating his features. Their worries washed away the instant their eyes met his.

He spoke up in a cheerful yet hushed tone as he shut the door as to not wake the rest of the dormitory, "Y/N, Thank you for being patient. I'll make sure you're comfortable and back to bed in an instant."

Barbatos

Y/N hesitated before calling the demon butler, unsure of whether or not he'd appreciate them being even more work for him. Barbatos had a lot of responsibility and little time to rest, seeing as he was the butler of the next king of Devildom. They sighed and internally gave themself a little pep talk before calling his number. The phone was ringing for only a second before Barbatos picked up.

"Good evening Y/N," he greeted, formal as ever with all my adoration of course, "is there a reason you're calling so late?"

"Yeah there is a reason.. I just need someone to talk to, I don't want to be alone right now," they mumbled out, "sorry for bothering you, you don't have to obviously."

"You're hardly a bother, I'd be happy to assist you," his calm voice reassured them that they were in fact safe, "shall I stay on the phone while I make my way to you?"

"Come to me?!" they blurted out loudly in a panic but quickly lowering their voice, "don't you have to be at Diavolo's side at all times or something?"

"Not necessarily, however my plan was to return to the castle with you.. Is it that you don't wish for my physical presence?"

"Well, no, I do.. I just-"

"Like I've stated before you are far from a bother, the young master is sleeping so all should be well. I'll send a message to Lucifer so he knows your whereabouts," he chuckled as Y/N sighs in defeat.

"Alright as long as its not an issue.." a small smile formed as they got themself ready.

"It is truly a pleasure to make you feel safe."

Simeon

Y/N tapped on Simeon's name, confident he wouldn't mind them bothering him. They didn't expect him to come over all the way from purgatory hall of course. They really just wanted him to talk to them for a while until they calmed down at the very least. The phone rings for a minute before Simeon picked up.

"Good morning, Y/N," he yawned out, "what are you doing up so early?"

"Well.. I'm not really up by choice,"

"Oh? Did something happen or is Asmo pestering you?" he chuckled a little, "though.. if it was just that you wouldn't have called me."

"I guess you could say something happened," they sighed softly, "this is really embarrassing.." They felt the heat rise to their cheeks

"Don't be, I won't judge you even if I think its something small," Simeon now sounded fairly awake and more serious than before

"I had a nightmare, I just don't want to be alone right now... I'm sorry," their voice quivered, threatening to crack and give away the fact there were tears trying to escape their eyes

"I see. I'll be over as soon as I write a note for Luke," they heard Simeon shuffle out of his bed.

"You don't have to come Simeon,"

"I know but I want to help you, Y/N,"

They grew quiet for a moment, "can you stay on the phone until you get here?"

"Of course I can. I'll care for you for as long as you need."

Solomon

Y/N didn't hesitate to call Solomon, full well knowing that he was up most nights. They waited impatiently, growing more anxious as the phone continued ringing. There was no answer, "Maybe he'd actually asleep for once..." they thought to themself, putting the phone down and rolling over. Y/N closed their eyes, trying to rest once more but was unsuccessful.

They sniffled softly before being startled by their phone ringing. Peaking at the screen, they smiled a little at Solomon's name being displayed. They answered after swiftly grabbing their phone once again.

"Sorry for not answering, I was busy with one of my projects and didn't hear the phone," he laughed a little bit, "but why are you up so late?"

"Oh. If you're busy its okay.. I just had a really bad nightmare."

"I see. That's unfortunate," he states the obvious, "What do you need from me to help?"

“Well I don’t know.. I just thought we’d talk and hang out on the phone, but-“

“No buts from you. I can do that but I think it would be much easier if I came to you,” he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” they pouted as if he could see them through the phone.

“I actually just finished something to help with this exact situation,” Solomon sounded excited, “how convenient! I’ll be over soon,”

Solomon hung up the phone, leaving Y/N alone again. They sighed, getting up and ready to greet him at the door. They wished he would’ve stayed on the phone but he was a bit oblivious when it came to social situations same Solomon same but they wouldn’t want him any other way. It was endearing in his own way how he got so excited at times that he forgot how to read a room affectionately of course. They waited patiently at the front door for Solomon to arrive. Solomon opened the door with a small smile.

“Solomon!” Y/N hugged him tightly

“Good evening,” he hugs back with one arm, pulling a potion out of his pocket with his free hand, “now let’s get you back to bed”

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x you #simeon obey me #diavolo x reader #diavolo obey me #barbatos obey me #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon obey me #solomon x reader #obey me fandom #omswd fanfic #obey me fluff #omswd imagines

[b0red-b1rds]

I've seen many a story of the Creator and their followers, how devoted the acolytes are to their master, how the God Of All Things is held in such high reverence...

...but wouldn't that get lonely after a while?

I like to imagine the moments when the followers throughout Teyvat begin to see the Creator not as a god, but as a person. Someone with emotions, likes and dislikes, a real personality.

Childe enjoys your smile. He sees you smile at the birds, at flowers you've picked, at the others when they do something silly... sometimes, if he's feeling bold, he'll ruffle your hair or pinch your sides playfully, and he delights when you jokingly punch his shoulder in retaliation.

Al Haitham and Tighnari listen with rapt attention when you speak on subjects you're passionate about. It could be something you're all intrigued by, or something only you know and understand. Tighnari will occasionally ask questions or give his input, speaking to you like you're a colleague, or perhaps a trusted friend he can debate with. Al Haitham acts like he's reading, but really, he's listening to your conversation with Tighnari. If he feels like it, he might even say something to add a bit of flavor to the debate.

Whether you have the voice of a cooing dove or a squawking crow, Barbara and Venti love it when you sing with them. Even if you only chime in with a line or two, they still love it. Barbara definitely will take your hands and spin you around when she's happy. Venti will play his lyre to help you relax after a long day.

Above all else, Diluc appreciates your company. Even if you aren't saying anything to one another, he enjoys being in your presence. You don't see him as a respected but aloof businessman, or a stoic wall of a man, or someone to be fawned over and treated delicately. No, you see him for who he is; a lonely man who lost his father and brother just a bit too early. You don't expect anything of him, and he appreciates it.

Kaeya is much the same as his brother. You see through his jokes and false arrogance. You don't mind it if he comes to you with a shy frown instead of a confident grin. You're happy to listen to his troubles or to simply sit in silence when he needs it. You soothe him the way no one else has in a very long time.

When it comes to Zhongli, he adores the innocent outlook you seem to have. Even if you've traveled the land of Teyvat a hundred times over, you still look at everything like it's a new wonder you've only just discovered. It makes him proud when you walk through Liyue with wide and excited eyes.

For some reason, Scaramouche seems to trust you. He gets the strangest feeling that you won't abandon him... he knows it's likely not true, that you'll likely get bored and throw him away eventually, but even still... he will cherish the smiles you send his way, he will savor the times you hold his hand to guide him to the next wonderful thing you want him to see. He knows it won't last, so he will enjoy this before it inevitably ends.

To Razor, you're lupical. You're always so kind to him, you often pat his head and tell him how ferocious and loyal he is. You even patch up his clothes sometimes! You make sure he's fed and rested, you look after him... to him, you're more of a pack member than an omnipresent god. Like I said... you're lupical.

#genshin sagau #sagau childe #sagau zhongli #sagau alhaitham #sagau tighnari #sagau venti #sagau barbara #sagau diluc #sagau kaeya #sagau scaramouche #sagau razor #yes I am willing to make a part two if anyone wants it

[skepsiss]

His People. Chapter 2: Like. Lust. Love

No one asked for this, but the idea wouldn't get out of my brain so I wrote it. I need to take a break tho but don't want to leave this without sharing. It's almost 3,000 words, so breaking it up into part 3 should be fine.

Lil' Monster Eddie. In the first chapter we see how Eddie has come back as something less than human. He doesn't have his memories and he is struggling a lot to interact with people "appropriately." In this chapter, Steve and Eddie are spending one on one time together and Eddie might... get a little carried away.

Chapter 1

Rate: T CW: Slight non-con/con, mention of gore, memory loss, miscommunication.

They were seated on the bed in Steve’s room, the smells and warmth almost oppressive. Everything smelt like Steve with a tinge of chemicals behind it. Clean. Eddie liked it. He liked the differences even if it was a lot, and he got used to it soon enough.

Eddie was stretched and lounging with his arm under his head and his chest to the mattress, flipping through one of Steve’s magazines. He found them fascinating, even if he didn’t really care for the subject matter. It was more the high gloss images and the way the men and women were positioned across the page. How he’d flip a page and there would be a wall of text, but wedged in beside it would be a man holding a baseball bat, the words perfectly blocked out around him. He liked them a lot and Steve had been kind enough to invite him over so he could look through his collection. 

Steve himself was seated with his back to the headboard, his legs stretched out so his feet were near Eddie’s head. He was reading one of the magazines, not flipping through the images nearly as quickly as Eddie was. Steve was reading and considering the page while Eddie watched his brows pinch in or raise with interest every once and a while. Expressive. He was taking his time to move from page to page and Eddie wondered if the subject matter was really all that intriguing, staring unabashedly at him.  

Eddie liked looking at Steve.

He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he’d stare sometimes at Steve and feel at peace looking at him. It was different from how he felt when he looked at the rest of the party. He felt possessive of all of them–protective and soft–but Steve was different. It was as if he had a calming presence to him. It felt the opposite compared to how Eddie felt after he ate. How he’d feel energetic and moody as if he was excited in the most destructive way possible. But around Steve, it was the opposite. 

Eddie didn’t remember a lot about Steve. 

He could remember Dustin–Henderson, as he was supposed to call him–and shared many memories with him. He remembered the band and he was often charmed by the memories that randomly popped up when he was around them. He could remember Mike, Lucas, Erica–he remembered a lot of them, but for some reason, he couldn’t remember anything about Steve. 

He wanted to be around Steve though, he liked it, and he liked it when Steve looked at him too. 

Steve must have felt his eyes on him because he glanced up from the magazine and looked at Eddie.

Eddie smiled, keeping his mouth shut so his teeth wouldn’t show, but still wanting to express his joy in Steve looking at him. 

“What?” Steve chuckled, flipping the page of his magazine as he smiled back at Eddie. 

“I like watching you. You look nice,” Eddie complimented as a means to explain why he was staring. 

“Uh… thanks,” Steve replied, the hesitation in his voice obvious before he looked back down at the page.

Eddie blinked at him and slowly sat up, feeling a little anxious all of a sudden. 

“Is that weird?” he asked, uncertain. He hadn’t really nailed this whole… social interaction thing. He’d often overstep or overshare and someone would have to explain why to him. He was learning all the rules slowly, but it was a lot to keep track of.

People liked compliments. Saying them was fine, right? Was calling Steve ‘nice’ not appropriate? 

“A little,” Steve replied to Eddie’s question, but he sounded good-humored even if there was a bit of awkwardness in his tone. “You’re not supposed to say that stuff out loud.” 

Eddie frowned, not really understanding what he meant by that. He had to keep it to himself? That didn’t seem fair. 

Steve must have caught on to Eddie’s confusion because he looked up from his magazine again before sighing lightly through his nose. 

“You shouldn’t really say ‘I like looking at you,’ a lot of people find that creepy,” Steve explained, pressing his lips together. 

“Oh,” Eddie answered, feeling badly, “did I creep you out?”

“It’s fine, just be careful who you say that stuff to.”

Eddie nodded and sat back with his legs crossed, trying to commit the ‘taboo’ to memory.

“Was the compliment okay?” Eddie asked, feeling like he needed the clarification.

“Uh… sure,” Steve replied, hesitating before trying to explain better. “Guys don’t really… say that stuff to each other.”

“Oh… why not?” Eddie asked, feeling like he was being annoying. Steve’s face was turning a bit red and Eddie didn’t really understand why. 

“You just… don’t?” Steve frowned, obviously flushed, “you save it for… someone you like.” 

“I like you,” Eddie replied quickly, not wanting Steve to think he disliked him for some reason, especially not when Eddie wanted to be around him so badly. 

“No, Eddie,” Steve sighed, sounding a bit exasperated, “not like that. Not like how you like Mike, or Dustin, or Nancy or someone. It’s different, you like them differently.”

Eddie frowned, not really understanding what Steve meant by that. There were different levels to liking someone? He supposed that made sense. He had felt a difference between people when he was around them. He felt differently when he was with Nancy compared to Mike. He liked being around Mike more, but he liked Nancy fine; he wanted to listen to her and didn’t feel as resistant to doing the things she asked compared to Mike. He liked them both, but he couldn’t really compare the two of them–but they were still nothing like Steve.

“I like you different,” Eddie explained, shifting onto all fours to crawl up toward the headboard where Steve was sitting. “Different from everyone else.”

Steve frowned deeper and Eddie tilted his head with curiosity at that. Why wouldn’t Steve want to be told he was liked?

“I mean, how you’d like a girl,” Steve tried to explain, shifting one of his legs so it was tucked up closer to his chest. 

“A girl?” Eddie asked, continuing his ascent up the bed before kneeling by Steve’s hip. 

Out of all the girls he knew, he didn’t feel any specific way about them. He liked Robin, he liked Nancy, he liked Max and the mothers of the people he knew, but nothing specific stuck out to him about them. “So… I’m supposed to tell Robin that she looks nice?” He asked, not thinking that compliment was untrue, but he had never felt compelled to tell her something like that.

“No, not Robin,” Steve sighed and Eddie watched as he shifted away ever so slightly, the motions almost imperceptible. Steve wasn’t looking at him anymore and Eddie felt a pit form in his stomach because of that. He wanted Steve to look at him, he liked that better. 

“I like you more than girls,” Eddie offered as an explanation, “look at me…”

He could see red breaking out across Steve’s face, making his freckles look darker and the lines in his face look softer. Eddie had never seen something like that before, red…. 

He reached for Steve slowly, wanting to see him properly as Steve lulled his head a bit back in Eddie’s direction. 

“It’s a different kind of–” he began saying, stopping when Eddie held his cheeks. His face got redder and Eddie felt his eyes go a bit wide as he felt how warm Steve was under his touch. It was different than other times–then when he’d touched Robin’s face to retrieve a loose eyelash or poke fun at Dustin. He was so warm. 

Eddie felt his breathing get a bit heavier and his pulse pick up, the feeling a muddled mixture of how he felt after he ate and how he felt just being around Steve. It made his eyelids droop and his skin prickle, his mind reeling as it started to connect dots. 

He could… remember something. It was ephemeral and hazy, different from how he usually remembered things, but it was there. He could see it in his mind, especially as his gaze shifted to look Steve in the eyes. 

He’d done this before. He’d held Steve like this. He could see it–he could see them–the two of them pressed against one another, the vague outline of Steve’s body in a dark room. The thrill and excitement of wrapping his arm around Steve and feeling him tug his hair. His body–their bodies–unclothed as Eddie touched him. He could remember Steve’s face being red just like this and he could remember kissing him. Oh… he wanted to kiss Steve. 

“I remember…” Eddie said quietly, the sound of his own voice odd to his ears. 

Steve was staring at him, not moving, and Eddie could hear the sound of his heartbeat pounding away in his chest. He wasn’t scared, but there was some kind of emotion there that Eddie didn’t understand. He couldn’t really focus on that though, his body felt electric with these memories, with how dreamy they made him feel. 

Like. Lust. Love. He didn’t really know, but he understood those words–had them in his brain all of a sudden. Steve was different… very different. 

Without delaying anymore, Eddie closed the distance between them, kissing Steve on the lips and feeling him recoil slightly in his hold. 

“Eddie–” Steve sputtered slightly, his hands going to Eddie’s shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” Eddie breathed, kissing him again, licking his bottom lip, “my teeth–it won’t… it’s okay.”

He wouldn’t hurt Steve, he never would, and he knew unless he bit down Steve didn’t have anything to worry about. 

He leaned in closer, pushing his tongue into Steve’s mouth and feeling his stomach clench at the sensation. He’d done this before. He’d felt this before. It was so familiar; he knew what he was doing without having to think about it. 

He was shifting closer to Steve, moving so he could almost lay on his chest as he sat against the headboard, feeling so at peace and so excited at the same time.

“No–Ed–” Steve started to say between kisses, his hands still on Eddie’s shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassured again, letting his hand drop to Steve’s waist and brush up and under his shirt, feeling the roughness of his skin. 

Steve squirmed, his own hand dropping to Eddie’s wrist to hold it. 

Another memory filtered through Eddie’s mind, one that felt sharper and tinged with fear and sorrow. He could remember Steve getting hurt and he could remember how scared he had been to see Steve like that. The blood and the gore of it all. How he had wanted to comfort Steve and kiss him as they walked through the forest together. He had wanted Steve to be okay. To take care of him. 

“Does it hurt still?” Eddie asked quietly against Steve’s lips, raising his hand away from the rough skin, afraid that he wasn’t healed enough to be touched there. 

“What? No, Eddie–” Steve replied and Eddie kissed him again, glad to hear that as he brushed his thumb over Steve’s stomach. He loved the feeling of Steve’s stomach: the softness of his hair, and the smooth skin underneath that made way for raised, rough patches of scars. 

“That’s good,” Eddie mumbled into the kiss, his eyes already closed without realizing it. Steve was still squirming under him though, restless and energetic.

Steve had been right. Liking someone was different than liking someone and Eddie wanted to reassure him that it was the latter. He couldn’t say he lusted him, so Eddie scraped his brain for the phrase he needed to express his feelings. 

“I want you,” Eddie breathed, the phrase sounding appropriate enough as if it communicated the right feeling. 

“I like you–different,” he tried to speak between kisses–between having his tongue as deep as it would go into Steve’s mouth–as he easily moved against Steve’s hold. “I want you… I wanted you… I remember… I wanted you when you got hurt, I wanted you.”

Steve’s squirming lessened slightly and Eddie shifted closer, letting his legs splay out behind him so he could hook his knee around Steve’s leg. 

“You were–” Eddie breathed, breaking the kiss, but continuing to hold Steve’s face so they were nose to nose, “--nice to look at… then too. I thought you were nice to look at.”

He remembered giving Steve his vest and how he had thought he looked good like that. How he was bloody and bruised, filthy and wet, but Eddie had wanted him so badly. He had settled for looking at him and he had thought he looked amazing. Badass. He liked Steve. 

Steve was frozen in his hold as Eddie stared at him, breathing against his mouth as he felt this flurry of remembered emotions. It was so much to process, but every second he remembered more it made his body tingle with warmth

He pecked Steve quickly before moving his hand over one of Steve’s scars and ducking down towards his stomach. Steve jolted and Eddie gasped as his lips touched his waist and he felt the skin break out in bumps under his touch. That was new. Goosebumps. They were contagious and Eddie felt the hair on his arm stand up as his skin was painted with them. 

“I’ll be gentle,” Eddie said softly, speaking against Steve’s skin before he felt Steve’s fingers in his curls. He made a sound in the back of his throat, approving of the touch until suddenly Steve’s grip tightened and he was yanked back by his hair.

Eddie hissed with pain and he watched as Steve brought his legs up to cover his stomach, one of his knees wedging firmly between their chest. 

“Eddie!” Steve exclaimed, holding Eddie’s head back and away from himself.

“Ow—Steve,” Eddie whined, frowning deeply, noticing the wild look in Steve’s eyes for the first time.

“Stop!” Steve said firmly, sounding angrier than Eddie had ever heard him.

“All…alright,” Eddie mumbled, a little shell-shocked as he stared at Steve. Had he hurt him? He didn’t mean to. Touching like this was supposed to feel good. He had felt good touching Steve, but maybe Steve hadn’t?

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, finally letting go of Eddie’s hair and pushing back and away from him until he was standing beside the bed. 

Eddie stared at him, unsure how to answer that question or if he was supposed to. 

“Kissing?” Eddie replied, shrinking in on himself slightly. Maybe he had just been doing a bad job of it. So bad that Steve didn’t even know what he was doing. 

“No—-Eddie,” Steve sighed, putting one hand on his hip while the other went to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

He was panting and Eddie could still hear Steve’s heart pounding, even from where he was seated. Steve smelt different too. He smelt… heavier. He liked the smell, it made him want to get closer… but he stayed seated, starting to squirm slightly as he waited for Steve to explain.

“I thought…” Eddie started, feeling as if he needed to explain, “since we’ve done it before…”

Steve looked up at him sharply, his brows creased and pressed in. He fumbled for words, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to push the sounds out of himself. 

“What?” he asked finally and the question made Eddie’s back straight and his shoulders bunch up to his ears. 

“We what?” Steve asked, his tone sharp and starting to truly frighten Eddie.

“Kissed… and… more,” Eddie explained, leaning back as he pushed across the bed, away from Steve, some of the magazines clattering to the ground behind him. 

“We’ve—” Steve started, staring at Eddie with wide eyes once again. “No, we haven’t!” 

“We haven’t?” Eddie asked, unsure of himself, his heart pounding out of his chest in a completely different way than it had been moments earlier. “I thought—I remembered us…”

He didn’t like the way Steve was looking at him, it was intense and nothing like how he usually was. He didn’t like this Steve. 

“That—-we’ve never–” Steve groaned and turned away from him, rubbing his hands over his face a few times. He was pacing in the room, the sound of his groans muffled by his palms as Eddie continued to push away until he was in the corner of the bed. He tucked up against the headboard and pulled his knees up, making himself smaller. 

That didn’t make sense. He could remember kissing Steve. He could remember touching him and seeing his body–he could remember all of it. The memories weren’t sharp–they felt wispy almost–but they were there. They were different compared to Eddie’s other memories, but Steve was different so it made sense for them to feel different too. But he couldn’t put a time or a place to these memories… he couldn’t produce the adjoining lead-up to them kissing. It was as if these memories were removed from time and space… why didn’t they make sense?

Eddie's eyes snapped up toward Steve, his blood running cold as he realized what all of this meant. 

Fantasies. They had been fantasies. 

These memories hadn’t actually happened, they weren’t real, they were things he had conjured in his own mind. They had been private. They were never things he was supposed to act on….

Eddie felt his face heat up and he touched his own cheeks as he realized that the sensation was. Embarrassment. Shame. Overwhelm. He had been embarrassing to Steve. He had kissed—

“Fuck!” Eddie yelled, the word jumping out of his mouth and shocking him slightly before he pushed his face into his knees. 

His shout had surprised Steve and he had seen him turn towards him before Eddie was covering his face from shame.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Eddie muttered, his voice loud but muffled still by his own hands. “I’m sorry—forget about it—you can just forget about it. Please forget about it. I’m sorry–”

--To be continued in Chapter 3. Picking right back up from here--

#sorry for the cliffhanger #Poor little monster Eddie #my_writing #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #fluff with slight smut

[avelera]

I watched the first episode of Kate Winslet's "The Regime" and had a few thoughts.

First, the good:

- Really excited to see Matthias Schoenaerts (Booker in The Old Guard) in it, so that was already a huge plus.

- Kate Winslet is definitely acting her ass off.

- A lot of worldbuilding and research about dictators both historical and modern definitely went into the script. I could see snippets of many known dictator affectations, like germophobia, on display.

And now the... not exactly bad but the ???:

(Cut because we start to get into some actual spoilers)

I really don't know where the show is trying to go just yet. I can't quite tell if it's a flat out comedy in the style of Death of Stalin, as advertised, or if it's actually going for a deeper dramedy where we're supposed to feel some level of pathos for Winslet's and Schoenaerts' characters.

Basically, it feels like a fictionalization of a historical dramedy.

However, in Death of Stalin and other dramas and satires based on real historical events, we know where this is all going, to some extent. We can tell if the Bumbling Advisor's advice is, well, bumbling because we know how things are going to turn out.

Right now, in The Regime, we don't have any grounding in reality to be able to determine if the decisions being made are bad or good or simply incompetent and doomed to fail.

We've got a lot subjective view points like the various ministers and Schoenaerts' character to give their perspective on what the country should do next, but we don't have any objective birds eye view, historical knowledge, or even an actual person average person in the this fictional country to tell us what they're really thinking, unfiltered through the subjective POV of all these characters with very pronounced agendas.

In a way, I do consider that quite clever from a writing craft standpoint. I feel just as isolated and wrapped in cotton wool as Winslet's character. Which is part of why I wonder if I'm supposed to sympathize with a figure that, to my eyes, reads like Marine le Pen from a dystopian world where she actually won in France.

As an American, I can't tell whether or not the country turning away from America (who was clearly trying to take advantage, in a cobalt deal that to my ears echoed the British oil interests in Iran at the beginning of the 20th c.) is meant to be seen as a good or a bad thing. Truly. I don't mean that as saying I want or expect America to be the good guy, but I can't tell if I'm relatively anti-American compared to the creator of the show (ie, that America is just assumed to be a good guy so it's meant to be a negative harbinger of bad things to come that they turned away) or relatively pro-American (ie, that it's a show made by non-Americans so by not seeing this as a clear good thing that they reject America using terminology that echoes current Russian rhetoric) and I should be cheering on their choice to turn away.

On the one hand, this ambiguity if intentional is quite masterful! I can't quite tell if I'm supposed to see Schoenaerts as a straight-shooter who is supposed to help this rather hapless dictator maybe achieve some good, or if he's a violent MAGA-type thug who is going to get her ear and put their country down the path to atrocities. I just don't know yet, because this isn't a historical dramedy so I don't know how these events play out.

And I can't tell quite yet if that's a good or a bad thing from the writerly perspective. On the one hand, I'm personally more baffled than intrigued as to why I should care about anything going on in it so far. It's not all that funny, so I'm not entertained or amused just at the nonsense happening, because I can't tell what I'm supposed to see as nonsense and what I'm supposed to see as serious worldbuilding leading towards an actual fictional country narrative that will allow some commentary on our own global situation, or if it's just intrigue for the sake of intrigue, or if it's a character study and I shouldn't care about the actual events in the fictional country because it's the absurdity of the personalities I should be focusing on. Or if I am supposed to be laughing, what aspects I'm supposed to be laughing at.

Basically, it hasn't won my trust yet. I'm mildly intrigued, mostly because of Winslet and Schoenaerts adding complexity to what in a normal satire might just be flat comedic characters. But I can't even really tell yet if the story thinks it's a comedy or if it just has comedic elements (like, say, Succession).

Maybe I'm just basic, but I wouldn't have minded a bit more signposting and a bit less of a feeling that I'm supposed to grasp what point the story is trying to make on its own. I don't really know what the thesis is yet, because it's not based in real events, there's no objective truth for me to look at and say, "Ah, they're saying this historically terrible person was misunderstood, or bumbling, or actually heroic, or well-intentioned," etc etc. I only have their word for it and they haven't actually told me yet what their word is trying to say, y'know?

Verdict: I'll probably watch a bit more, but I am a little perplexed at present as to what the takeaway should be.

#the regime

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter twelve: drowned in insignificant details

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, disassociation, thoughts of self harm and annihilation, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 4593

“The ravens have already been sent so preparations can be made, but we must come to a decision on the official invitations.”

“That is your first matter at hand? What pictures go on which piece of parchment?” Daemon sneered.

“No, my Prince, it is merely the most time sensitive. Perhaps they should have a tower and a dragon? Both strong and formidable sigils to symbolize the strength of the union.” The Queen stated with a cold calmness.

“No towers, no fucking towers!” Daemon snapped.

“What of iron studs or runes? I think towers should be included only if the sigils of House Royce are as well.” Princess Rhaenyra suggested, giving her husband an unwavering warning stare.

Needless to say, Prince Daemon did not like his first late wife’s insignia anywhere near the topic of discussion either. He growled and slammed his goblet on the table much like a child. Lady Rhea and her house were among his sorest subjects. Throughout her entire life, the princess had tiptoed around the subject of her own mother. Careful not to pull an untethered outburst out of her father. To the point where the mere mention of the long dead woman from another party’s innocent mouth was enough to make the princess tense. The Prince was no stranger to a violent outburst or a barrage of verbal assaults. His wife, too, knew it well. Yet Princess Rhaenyra did not seem to cower like Princess Maetilda did. Rhaenyra poked him like a sleeping bear. Without fear of his response. Without tensing for what came next. Unlike his wife, the Rogue Prince’s daughter was still shaken from the night before. Each time she looked at him, she could feel the sting in her cheek. It was still pink that morning and her maids had to use every remedy they could think of to take the swell away. But most pretended they did not see it, that her cheeks had always been two different colors. A few pairs of eyes lingered, but not for long.

“Perhaps you should sell me to the Triarchy while you’re at it.” He grumbled.

“Might I suggest two dragons that meet in the middle? One of them colored green and white, the other red and black.” Aemond piped up.

Maetilda spared a quick glance toward her betrothed. He had a goblet in hand, just like her father, but was not flinging it around or throwing it onto the table. Regardless, the resemblance between the two was growing uncanny, making her stomach churn and flip and knot in a wave of nausea. What if Aemond began to act like him? Would she be as steadfast and fearless as Rhaenyra? She was not sure. And that was a scary thought, a scary possibility. She hoped she was wrong. The two shared a resemblance, yet the King’s second son was far more handsome. Harder to read, but intriguing. He had a face that she wanted to stare at. She could not deny it. His eye, his nose, his chin. He was ethereal, as if he was etched in stone. His shoulders were squared and hunched. His stare was fixed on his uncle as he swirled the contents of his cup. She wondered what thoughts were running through his mind, if they had anything to do with the words he spoke in her chambers. As her husband, he would put her father in his place. Of course, a Hightower would be all too excited to do such a thing. She stewed as she reminded herself that Aemond had likely become just that — a tower wearing a dragon’s skin. He had said it himself the night before, he would not sit and allow her family to further disrespect him. Not after Lucerys took his eye. She wondered if the wound continued to cause him pain to that day. In the time she had seen him again, he had not let on if it had. Instead he sat diligently for a meeting on their wedding and thoughtfully contributed. Seemingly more mentally present in the room than herself. Both Alicent and Rhaenyra smiled and nodded, even Daemon did not grumble at the proposition. He had successfully made a compromise in the span of one suggestion. The Queen gave the artisan who stood before the table an official nod to signify that the decision was final. He smiled and nodded eagerly in return.

“Any florals, your Grace?” The artisan asked respectfully.

“Oh yes, certainly. Aster, myrtle, purple columbine, daffodil, honeysuckle, and iris.” Alicent’s answer was fast, consulting no one.

No one argued. The artisan smiled and nodded eagerly again.

“Perhaps we should let our Queen marry her son in place of my daughter. Her Grace seems to have already planned for it.” Daemon goaded with a sneer.

“Husband!” Rhaenyra scolded before turning to the room, “My apologies. It seems my husband has gotten too lost in his cups this morning. It is quite emotional to see all of our daughters getting married so quickly.”

“Yes, it is a very emotional time.” Alicent agreed.

“How much are these invitations going to cost? Can we not send a pageboy with doves in a box?” Lord Beesbury, the Master of Coin and Lord Treasurer, interjected after looking up from his book full of numbers. “I mean no offense to you, Mister Booker. I only mean to say that the cost of the invitations only increases with the number of great houses invited.”

“With all due respect, Lord Beesbury, this is not only a royal wedding. As my husband has declared, it is the joining of two branches within the great royal house. No expense shall be spared.”

“Make sure there is a seven-pointed star in prominent display at the top. We must not forget to honor those who have given us such a union.” Ser Otto spoke up.

“Then you must also include a symbol from each of the Valyrian gods. We best not forget to honor those that granted us the Throne in the first place.” Rhaenyra added.

“Will there be room left on the invitation for the words?” Lord Jason Lannister laughed at his own joke before he turned to the artisan, “Do you know how to read? Are you in charge of the words?”

“Do not answer that, Mister Booker,” Princess Rhaenyra shot dagger eyes at the Lannister before turning to the artisan, “The Marriage of Prince Aemond & Princess Maetilda Targaryen. By command of the King — followed by each houses’ name — you are directed to be present in King’s Landing promptly before the Equinox of the Flower Moon.”

“How many feasts shall we have before the wedding? We must tell the families to arrive in time.” Lord Jason suggested.

“There shall be exactly six prior. The wedding shall precede the seventh feast.” Otto stated.

“Absolutely not. Thirteen feasts, with the wedding as the fourteenth.” Rhaenyra pushed back.

“Fourteen feasts! My apologies, your Grace, I may need to see the maester after hearing such a number.” Lord Beesbury chortled.

“Fourteen feasts for fourteen flames. A royal wedding never to be forgotten. Nothing less for my eldest daughter.” Daemon pushed farther.

“Absurd!” Otto barked back, “The Seven should curse the union if any such thing took place.”

“Feasts are not sacrilegious, grandfather. If the ceremony should be in that of The Faith, we may honor our heritage in other ways. Fourteen feasts, which require fire in its making, to honor the Fourteen Flames. And we spare no expense, as my mother already stated.” Aemond spoke with finality.

“Can the Red Keep house all those extra lords and ladies for an entire fortnight?” Ser Otto countered.

“There are plenty of rooms! Are there not? We’ve held tourneys that last longer.” Rhaenyra bellowed.

“Yes, your Grace, but the waste. The castle may begin to smell. A situation we best not risk.” Ser Otto explained.

“‘Smell better than you on any given day.” Daemon grumbled, slurring his words.

‘You smell so pretty, ñuha dōna,’ the words echoed in her mind. Spine rigid as she sat up uncomfortably straight. Her cheeks felt hot as she was certain she was the only one plagued by her thoughts.

The Hand’s response was quick and overly pious, “Pardon me, Prince Daemon. But you may be excused if you cannot remain appropriate.”

“I will excuse it this one time, Ser Otto, as I am a man of mercy. But I will remind you that it is not your place to tell me where to be or what behavior is appropriate. Tread carefully.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Only if you make it one.”

“Enough!” Alicent and Rhaenyra snapped simultaneously.

The room fell completely silent. The princess twiddled her thumbs in her lap. Daemon could sustain anger and a grudge longer than anyone the princess had ever known. A single marriage was not about to quell his ages of hatred for Ser Otto. He had hated his brother’s advisor for longer than any of his daughters had been alive. After the night before, she had expected her father’s insults and more. But if what Maetilda and her knight had done that same evening worked, then the arguments might have been a sign. She could not be bound in marriage to anyone if no agreements could be made. If the marriage would prove to do the opposite of its intended purpose. However, Aemond seemed to be in a compromising mood. If his actions of the night prior proved anything, he had to be the culprit behind the stones. At the very least, he had proven that he knew how to sneak into her room. She did not understand him, where his motivations came from. What did he mean when he said they were more alike than she realized? In what ways were they alike? Certainly he was not that motivated from a few commonalities. As she watched, those around them actually seemed to listen to him, value his word. She was expected to remain silent unless spoken to, even in her own wedding plans. It was a rule uniquely hers, never given to her younger sisters or other siblings. Her father hated it when she stuck her neck out around others. In his words, she could never say the right thing or always said too much. Despite how hard she tried, it was always wrong. She could never figure out why. Yet at that moment, the princess did not raise any complaints. Unsure what she would even want to say. The wedding did not feel real in the first place. A feeling in her gut told her that all their planning would be in vain; her father would find a way. He was a man with 10,000 and 1 contingency plans. He would sooner drop dead before he allowed such an event to actually happen. Perhaps she was the only one who saw their planning for the farce it was.

“Shall we talk entertainment then? Each feast should have a different theme!” Daemon smirked, downing another cup.

“Heavens no! I always get the days mixed up.” Lord Beesbury shivered.

“Shall I have them written out for you, Lord Beesbury?” Lord Wydle, Master of Law, interjected genuinely.

“Or would the parchment be too expensive?” Lord Lannister teased.

“There should not be anything that deters attention away from the bride. Themes might allow other ladies to upstage.” Alicent disagreed, “Unless done properly.”

“Is there anything the Crown cannot do?” Daemon countered.

The princess’s skin tingled as their conversation continued. She did not like to imagine lords and ladies from across the Realm all gathered to watch her. To witness her wedding and bedding. She had to fight the grimace that wanted to smear itself across her face. The thought of such attention fixed on her was enough to make her lose her meal, but she kept it swallowed down. She hated to imagine what they would say, the snide whispers about how the princess was only quickly wed to save her good name. To save her from a life of solitude and disgrace in the eyes of the kingdoms. Pathetic, that’s what they would think of her. Pathetic, ugly, lacking any sense of dignity. She would be the joke of the Realm. They would hold their bellies and laugh through the entire fortnight. Through each meal. She could already picture it. And others wondered why Helaena shrunk into herself. It was not fun to be the topic of the whispers, the lady being watched, the butt of the joke. Maetilda wished she could crawl under the table and never come out. Perhaps if she acted completely ridiculous, Ser Otto would convince the King to call it all off. Her reputation would be shattered regardless. It would not matter if it was her fault or theirs, no lord would want her after. She wondered if that would be her fate, marked by the Gods. Inevitable to happen. Cursed to a life of solitude. Once her father died, she would be too old to find another husband. She would return to the unfamiliar castle she was born in as a woman grown, never to leave it for fear of shame. She would wallow and rot in its halls. Perhaps she would find the ghost of her mother.

“There should be a tribute to both of our dragons. The last living ones to be born in Valyria.” Aemond’s voice cut through the hum of them all again, “Would you enjoy that, Princess Maetilda?”

Startled by her sudden inclusion, she blinked a few times before fully realizing she had been asked a question. The princess sat up straighter and adjusted her posture before nodding her head, “Yes. A tribute to the last eyes to see Valyria in all its beauty.”

“Perhaps have a song composed about them? Or a tapestry made? Which would you prefer?” He pressed farther as the room watched them.

“Why not both?” She shrugged, unsure of which option was the correct answer.

“Yes, of course!” Aemond nodded to his mother, “And there should be portraits made, multiple. Both at the ceremony and in the portrait room.”

Portraits, tapestries, songs. All for display. A wedding all for show. The night before, Aemond had been so sure, so certain. But as time took more, Maetilda only felt more unsettled. Like sailing on a ship stalked by a leviathan, her next moments felt numbered. If she did not act, she would be in its belly. What was the purpose of delaying the inevitable? Aemond still looked so fixed, determined, beyond any doubt, a sort of confidence that only a prince could have. She was almost jealous of him, almost. But then she remembered her father again. He lived inside her head. He would not be happy with her for such a submissive agreement.

“Worry not, nephew. I will take it into my own hands to instruct the artists to paint the bride prettier. You must not be troubled with such tasks on your wedding day.”

The princess’s heart sank to her stomach. Her father had insulted her. And for what reason? There were eyes on her, she could feel them. But she kept her stare fixed forward on the wall. Chin up.

“Please do not bother, uncle. We all know you will be far too lost in the festivities to remember.” Aemond threw the rest of his drink down his throat, “She’ll be more than pretty warming my bed.”

The father of the future bride barked with laughter, clapping his hands together and slapping his knee. As the howls droned on, they grew drier and drier. He was the only one that laughed. The princess could feel each change in pitch claw at her skin like talons. She felt her blood pool in her feet as she listened to her father’s very public shaming. It had to be some sort of joke or game. Why else would he speak of her in such a way in front of the Small Council? Why else would he give lords and ladies an invitation to insult them? He was either stupid or plotting. While he was never known to be stupid, she could not see any of the logic.

“Would you like a portrait of that too?”

“Yes, I shall have two made and send the second to you.”

“You’re eager. Aren’t you? Like a dog on a chain. Is that your grandfather holding the other end? Or is it your mama?”

Not a sound was made. The uncle and nephew stared each other down with stern red faces, furrowed brows, and locked jaws. If they were dogs, they would have been growling. The princess could not tear her eyes away, anxious to see what punishment her father would rain down upon her betrothed. Her skin tickled as if spiders scurried all over her. Had the sleeves of her dress not itched at her arms, she would have felt completely naked to the room. She wanted to tell them off, to demand their respect. But it would get her nowhere. They owned her. Through marriage, her father would be handing Aemond the keys to her cell. For Aemond to own. If the Gods gave them children, he would own them too. She could die, and he could do as he wished with them. Just as her father had with her. But the man liked control too much to hand the keys over nicely.

“No matter what the King declares, that will always be my daughter, boy.” Daemon spat, “Those Gods you worship may giveth, but they shall also taketh.”

A threat. In front of everyone, the entire Small Council. He was a bold man, capable of far more than anyone else in the Realm – only second to the King. Able to commit unthinkable acts, say unspeakable things, without fear of losing his head. The most his brother would do is banish him. No assassin would be brave enough to collect any bounty on his head. Not with Ceraxes and Dark Sister at his side. Despite this, the princess had expected more out of the legendary man. Where were the fists? Where were the swords? Where were the consequences? Or were they only reserved for her now? Her chest felt tight as she tried to keep her face from betraying how she felt.

“They give us all what we deserve.” Ser Otto righteously interjected.

“I know what you think I deserve, Lord Asswipe. But are you aware of what you deserve?”

“I will not hear another word of it.” Rhaenyra commanded.

Just as she had declared, all words stopped. All the eyes in the room darted about, anxious to see who made the next move. Maetilda was not the only one on edge. Everyone seemed afraid to speak. All except her father, who only continued to drink. He set his goblet down on the table with a loud echo, causing the princess to jump. He reveled under the supercharged attention of the room. He smiled.

“The privy is more deserving of my presence than this room. Planning may continue tomorrow.” Daemon stated as he gathered himself to leave.

“They must continue now. We will run out of time.” The Queen retorted sharply, “We will proceed with or without you, Prince Daemon.”

“You shall continue without the bride as well then.” Daemon chuckled before setting his hard eyes on his daughter, “Maetilda, come.”

On instinct, the princess nodded her head obediently. She rose out of her chair in a trancelike state, only stopping when she heard Queen Alicent say her name. Her legs froze midstep. Her neck snapped to the side to meet the owlish stare of the Hightower queen. “Come to dinner in my chambers this evening. Just you.” Her brown eyes flickered to her father warningly before nodding to the princess, officially dismissing her from the room.

The three sets of footsteps echoed down the staircase together. Ser Wyllam dutifully followed behind them. His armor would scratch every few steps. It formed an odd rhythm with the pounding of her heart and the pumping of her blood. After a few paces, a rough hand idly gripped the back of her neck. Leading her firmly back in the direction of her chambers. Certainly the servants had heard him behind her doors the evening before. Certainly they had begun to talk. She was still marked from it after all. She wondered what had been said, who all had heard. Would the lords and ladies talk too?

“Rhaenyra knew what she was doing when she demanded we travel by ship.” He stopped himself from speaking farther, Ceraxes’ name on the edge of his lips.

“Ao zālagon se sombāzmion ilagon?” (Would you burn the castle down?)

“Nyke gaomagon skoros iksis bēvilagon. Hae ao kessa gaomagon skori nyke udrāzma hen ao.” (I would do what is necessary. As you shall do when I command of you.)

The walk had been far easier, less painful, but just as tense as it had been the night before. It seemed to be their new tradition, their new way of bonding within the Red Keep – tensely making their way to the princess’s chambers together. She missed his small moments of tenderness. The relaxation in his shoulders while they lived at Dragonstone. If she was wed, would he visit her at the Keep? Where would she go after the King died? Would he ever allow her and Aemond to live at Runestone? Would Aemond hate her castle too? Would she? What of the Royce family that remained there? Would they reject all the Targaryens in their family home? She would not blame them. As much as she longed to return, she found herself worried she would be a foreigner in her own home. Just as she felt at the Red Keep. Although nothing felt as bad as she had felt at the Red Keep. Poor little princess, she thought. When the father and daughter arrived at the same door he had slapped her behind the night before, he gave her a knowing smile. They entered the room silently. Just the same, her father locked the door behind him. But instead of his menacing actions the night before, he gently stepped forward and wrapped her in his embrace. His hugs were always good. He always knew just how much to squeeze. Even when he reeked of alcohol, they brought a strange sense of comfort. Yet the princess could not wipe the memories of the night before from her mind. Her body remained rigid, on edge in close proximity to the man. She would not let her guard down so easily, despite how much she had missed the softer side of him. Where had this father been then? The side of him that cared how she felt. The side of him that dried her tears instead of mocked them. He stood back after he pulled away and held her at arms’ length.

“You seem tense.” He pointed out as he gently squeezed up and down her arms.

She hesitated as she formulated her response, “Are you angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“…When Aemond asked if I liked the tribute, I did not tell him no.”

“Worry not, Maetilda. I am not angry with you for agreeing to tributes for your dragons. It would be an insult to the great kings before us to disagree with such a proposal in Shrykos and Vhagar’s honor.”

“Thank you, father.” She nodded dutifully, glad that he had not nitpicked her for once. Almost wondering if he had heard her thoughts when she had longed for his softer side. But as she continued to stew, it felt more and more wrong. Why had he not nitpicked?

“You did well to remind the council just where she hatched from, where we come from.”

“Yes,” She nodded eagerly, “It would do them good to remember.”

Prince Daemon menacingly held her gaze. She tried to hold back her shaking as she wondered if he would grab her hair and smother her to death in her pillows while her guard was down. Was he trying to play a joke on her? Without question. Anticipation built within her for the punchline. The smell of wine permeated off of him like a foggy cloud even at their slight distance. It made her nose scrunch. The smell and his mood swings seemed to be the only signs of his intoxication. He did not sway or stumble. His hand was firm as he reached upward from her arm and lightly caressed the same cheek he had slapped repeatedly the night before. Brushed his knuckles over the skin. It was still pinker than the other. Yet no one had said a word about it. The only ones whose eyes lingered were enough to count on a single hand. Her father, himself, and Rhaenyra. Queen Alicent, Prince Aemond, and Lord Larys Strong. Three of which had already seen her face before the meeting. Her father and Aemond in the shadows of the night before, and Rhaenyra that morning. Yet not a question about it. The lack of acknowledgment hurt like a bee sting on her heart. Did they not care to know what happened? Did they not care to know she was alright? Aemond had. He had come to check on her. He had heard what her father had said and wanted to make sure she was okay. He had shown her kindness, and she had told him to leave. Guilt began to drip into her blood and spread throughout her veins. In pursuit of her father’s happiness, she had insulted her betrothed. She had hit and slapped him, taken her inner turmoil out on him without hesitation. Was she the one in the wrong? Now she had left the very room where their wedding was being planned, and he had remained. She had listened to the commands of her drunken father, and he had upheld responsibility.

“How many decisions will be made in our absence?” She inquired.

“If they were smart, they would have agreed to meet later.” He replied, shaking his head as if it were a fist at the Gods, “However, if your stepmother stayed, it is hard to say. She likes to play monarch, you know.”

“She is the heir.”

“She is, and I am her husband.”

“Yes, father.”

“And you are the Lady of Runestone, Maetilda. You are in charge of it now. But as soon as you have a husband…”

“How can I be in charge if I have never even been there?”

“You do not need to be there to be in charge.”

“Is that why the King dragged himself to the Throne Room?” She crossed her arms.

“A good ruler knows when their presence is required.”

“And mine has not been for how long now?”

“No one is trying to take the Bronze Throne. There is no need for you to defend the damn thing.”

“The Hightowers are.”

Daemon’s eyebrow hiked up in interest at the princess’s words. He smirked and it filled her chest with warmth. Commendation. She had a point, and he had realized it. His face had given it away. Whether he had wanted to give her such praise or not.

“They are,” He nodded, “And now you must defend your Keep from here.”

“Me? Here? What?”

“While at dinner with the Queen tonight. Make the ugly bat regret her own marriage to begin with.”

“…But how?”

“You are so naturally gifted at angering me, I am certain you do not require my help.”

A/N: lol i heard you guys asking to give Maetilda a break!!! so she got a hug!! but also she got a hug?? i promise there is light at the end of the tunnel!! we just have to be dramatic first. Chapter Thirteen will be posted shortly! (most likely tomorrow)

also, i had a lot of fun with the dialogue in this chapter. hopefully it’s not too cheesy! i was making myself giggle as i wrote it so i hope y’all like it too 0:)

TAGLIST: @marvelescvpe @snh96 @imsoshygirl @faesspace

xoxo messy

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x fem!oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #hotd #dad!daemon #dead men and the divine

[laylanatorseventeen]

OK, so exactly noone asked for this but I have been reading a LOT of bioshock fanfiction lately and I think there are some real gems on ao3 that I’d like to bring attention to. So here they are, mixed with some more obviously popular ones---

Bioshock fic recs GO!!!!

ONE SHOTS--

--Found Is Lost and Lost Is Found by thewickedkat-- “What if there had been a Little Sister who hadn’t wanted to be rescued?” REALLY GOOD, but heed the trigger warnings in the tags!!!

--results, not causes by cheloniidae “Diane doesn’t need a pretty face to fight in the war.”

--they shake the mountains when they dance by coricomile-- “Around her, the splicers scream.”

--Just Put (Me) To Work by rataplani-- “A tribute to the nameless protagonists of the Protector Trials.”

--Chasing Shadows by cloudeme--  “ She is the first Big Sister, and will probably be the last. She knows she's different, but she doesn't care. She does her job... and hates.”

MULTICHAPTER--

-hey mister, don’t I know you? by presidenthomewrecker -- COMPLETE-- the one where Anna Culpepper runs Fort Frolic when you come through!!! a really great story that I really enjoyed. this author in general is worth checking out, they’ve written more than one awesome fic!!

-The Closing of Watchful Eyes by FOzziliZ3d-- COMPLETE--  “In which Mark Meltzer is saved by Subject Delta in Dionysus Park.”

-lay her i’ th’ earth by poppywine-- COMPLETE-- “ And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil—By telling the truth. Tell truth and shame the devil.”  Jasmine Jolene haunts Ryan’s bitch ass and it’s wonderful. 

-Watch Over Me by cakeisatruth-- COMPLETE-- “ Little Sisters can be cured in a matter of seconds, but it takes far longer for one to overcome everything she's been brainwashed to believe.” A really good fic from the perspective of a recovering Little Sister!! I especially love this fic. 

-Bei Mir Bist Du Sheon by poppywine-- WIP--  “ Brigid Tenenbaum has put the worst of Rapture behind her. That's the good news. The bad news is that a part of it is now standing on her porch.” As stated, this fic is still in progress, but the writing is wonderful, and I’m really excited to see where it goes!!

-With Friends Like These.... by gummysharksupremacy --WIP--- this one is actually about remorseful!Bad End Jack which I found intriguing from the start!! Basically he wakes up after the events of the game and is trying to make his way out of Rapture. Has some Infinite/BAS elements but I havent played either of those and it didn’t hinder my enjoyment of the fic. Honestly can be enjoyed as a standalone and is a really awesome fic!!

-Atonement for Bygone Sins by foorocks10-- WIP-- “Delta wakes in the ashes of failure. In the ashes of Rapture.Babylon has fallen. And yet Sophia Lamb seeks to build something greater and more terrible from Rapture's ashes.” I actually just discovered this one the other day!! 

-Here Comes the Sun by Riddle_of_the_sphinx --WIP-- “There are others I must help before this city drowns..... or, basically Delta decides that he’s going to save as many people as he can so they can see the sun.” This fic actually had me laughing out loud, Delta has such a sassy inner commentary. I’m excited to see where this one goes, as well!!

-There Is No Rapture by necroticboop-- WIP-- this fic is basically a fleshing out of Brigid Tenenbaum’s whole backstory and it is SOOOO GOOD omg. If you like Brigid please read this story and give the author some feedback because it is SO. GOOD.

-Underwater Eden by jadrea-- WIP-- “It is much to his surprise that Augustus Sinclair finds he's alive.” This one’s got MAPS and stuff like those really good fantasy books from middle school. Promising, I must say, LOL. 

-The Prodigal Son by malice-and-macarons-- WIP--”Atlas wakes up.Death, he thinks, would have been kinder.” I think this one is actually pretty popular amongst the Bioshock fanbase (small as it may be) but just in case you havent seen it, here it is!! 

Final note: I know we all love the instant gratification of already completed fic, and don’t like waiting for updates (I know, me too!) but I encourage anyone looking for something to read to give the WIP’s a try, and leave nice comments for the authors if you enjoyed the story! It’s hard to write when you feel like noone cares. If you want content, you have to validate the content creators!! 

All the fics on this list are awesome, and thanks to all the creators for producing and sharing these stories!!

#bioshock #bioshock fanfiction #fic recs #idk if ANYONE will care about this #but i have been reading a LOT of bioshock fanfic #the fandom is not dead!!! we got shooters out here yall!!! #so i just wanted to bring some attention to some awesome fics if i could #especially the wips #because seriously!!! we have to encourage the content we want to see!!!

[edensrose]

hello sweetheart! your writing gives me great joy <3 if you are comfortable with fulfilling my req, would you be a a dear and whip up some headcanons for thranduil, legolas, and if you're okay with the pairing- polygamous melkor & mairon? if not, you may seperate them! their gender neutral lover is quite the wonder, being from the modern world [ 2022 ] and all— and being from said modern world, of course, they get homesick. so the reader paints/draws/writes about their world in order to cope, whether it be of the city lights, the technology as a whole, the fashion- anything modern, they write/paint/draw about. how would the four react to their s/o showcasing their art and even telling them more about the subject of their art? it even evolves into a full on geek out about how good iced coffee tastes or something! whatever the chosen topic you may choose, sweet eden, I don't mind!! :D it's an honor if you even decide to take this request at all 🧍‍♀️

thank you for lighting up my day <3

— ♥︎ anon

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ thranduil, legolas, mairon + melkor ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. their reaction to your rambles about your beloved home

· ⊰ note. so I gushed a l o t, I'm not even sure if 'thank you' begins to cover how grateful I am for these kind words 💕 it's so nice to hear that my work gives you joy, it's an honour alone to write as such, of course I'll do this req for you <3

( masterlist ) ( taglist form )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTHRANDUIL 

ʚ The elvenking knew good and well that your world was vastly different from his — but he would never understand the paintings that you created 

ʚ This is not to say that he didn’t find the beauty in it - rather, he never understood the objects which you painted. He was curious 

ʚ There are sometimes he would even hold off his duties as king just to watch you paint, to observe the way your eyes light up as you depict your world. Thranduil is the kind who prefers to be as knowledgable as he can be, so there are many times that he’ll ask you to describe what it is you reminisce about 

ʚ It is during times like this when you manage to have his full attention. He almost feels like an elfling again - learning about this new world that you cherish oh so dearly 

ʚ By far he was most intrigued when one of your paintings depicted street lights. His eyes lit up, observing the colours and mixes that looked so much like starlight. He beckoned you to tell him more, clearly interested when you went on to say how this is a view one can obtain every night 

ʚ “If there is a chance for us to ever visit your world. . . Promise me that we will watch that starlight?” 

ʚ You couldn’t help but giggle, even after you explained to him what it was, he still referred to it as ‘starlight’. But how could you deny him? 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLEGOLAS 

ʚ Legolas absolutely adored watching you write about your world - especially because he was always so eager to find out more about the place from which you came 

ʚ There are sometimes that you’ll even keep a little journal with some doodles here and there, just for him to keep and read over in his free time

ʚ He found it adorable how excited you would get whenever you would speak of your world and he would be damned to take that away from you. There are times that the two of you will just sit beneath the stars, his head in your lap and staring up at you in wonder as you describe things from cafes to bookstores to how cars and carnivals 

ʚ Legolas was especially intrigued by the image of carnivals and would ask you to go more into detail when it came to them. He wasn’t sure what excited him more - the fact that it was a place purely for fun, or the way your face lit up as you recounted memories of it 

ʚ “When I come to your world, we should go there. I would like to win you a bird!”

ʚ Seems as though your elven prince had completely misunderstood what you meant by ‘stuffed animal’, but his expression was too precious to make you want to correct him 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMAIRON + MELKOR 

ʚ Mairon was the first to become intrigued by all your drawings, especially when he had stumbled upon them one day in your room. Melkor never really took an interest until later on when you had depicted skyscrapers and that is when you got him hooked on the idea of cities - which he saw as some sort of empire 

ʚ Mairon would try not to become too caught up in your little world, mostly because he had a lot of work as Angband’s lieutenant - yet you always seemed to haul him in. There are times he would completely disregard his duties just to see you sketching something as simple as iced coffee 

ʚ When you told him what this drink was, he wondered if there was a way that he could fashion it himself. It gave people energy? Now, he could certainly make use of that with all the shit he had put up with 

ʚ Melkor would try to act as if he wasn’t interested in the city landscapes you drew but you would catch his eyes lingering on your artwork. It is times like this that you’d beckon him over, offering to tell him more of this concrete jungle 

ʚ Melkor was also quite curious at how little spiders were in your world. At the back of his mind, he noted that if he ever visited, he would surely capture a few to bring back home - they should be more manageable than a particular arachnid 

ʚ Mairon sometimes gets a little too caught up in your rambles, going as far as shooing his master off should he need him for some sort of duty 

ʚ Melkor goes as far as taking some inspiration from some of your drawings into improving Angband. Let’s just say that the first order of business ( mostly because of Mairon ) was to find a way to replicate that bizarre ‘coffee’ you talk about 

ʚ “I wonder if we could ever visit that world,’’ “Yes, I would quite like a few spiders.” “There is so much more we could obtain and yet you wish to meddle with arachnids again?”

taglist — @kiatheinsomniac @augustwithquills @blueberryrock @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @nerdydcfan @flowerchildishere @camilomyshiningsun @bugnug @algae-rave @snakesofindia-sursesaji @theroguemaia @heraluthor @pinkslashersimp @the-girl-king @qwerty-19923 @livialounalamontagne @perwaineintsomi @yellowbadgermole @spoopy-fish-writes @itsdameron @aeonianarchives @rurifangirl @tumblertatiana-blog

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ tolkien ❜‧₊ #thranduil x reader #legolas x reader #melkor x reader #mairon x reader #melkor x reader x mairon #thranduil #legolas #mairon #melkor #the silmarillion #lotr #lord of the rings #headcanons #writing

[ratellini]

can i.. know more about your character samir.. please please please please please i am so intrigued. i love hermaeus mora already and seeing your character with him made my bones RUMBLE with excitement

of course :’) ! thank you for the interest—please note that anything i write can be subject to changes! i’m no expert on tes lore, nor do i strive to be completely lore accurate 🫶

a black book came into the possession of samir’s parents, and due to an argument (likely over the book), they did not notice samir flip it open to read with childish wonder, and was promptly transported to apocrypha, leaving an apparition behind.

one parent attempts to follow after, but falls victim to insanity.

i doubt hermaeus mora would have much interest in a child, and simply confronted samir, spoke with him, deemed him low risk, and basically let him lose in apocrypha—either he would die, find his way through the gauntlet that is the prince's realm, or perhaps even end up be of some use.

i don't like making very detailed lore (lmao), but essentially samir spends time in apocrypha, befriends a watcher, returns to morrowind only to find his family gone, is taken back to apocrypha by previously mentioned watcher, and begins his service to the golden eye, hermaeus mora.

basically i just turned apocrypha into a daycare, and samir wanders the many archives under the watchful gaze of seekers, watchers, lurkers, and the few mortals who serve hermaeus mora.

prolonged exposure to all the knowledge have left him somewhat unfamiliar with his memories, and has a hard time differentiating between stories and reality, hence why the loss of his parents does not seem to affect him as much as it should... he's not sure whether or not they were real to begin with.

sorry if none of this makes sense, or was particularly interesting to read! tl;dr: hermaeus mora is in his stepdad arc.

#(feels embarrassed attempting to make a coherent backstory) #tes #the elder scrolls #the elder scolls online #eso #dunmer #dark elf #*samir #apocrypha #hermaeus mora #rat response #rat art #procreate #digital art #thank you for the ask 💚 #magppie

[blueraineshadows]

Heart Song Part Two

Leander Prewett x F!MC

Preparations are underway for the Hogwarts concert and MC is being dragged ever closer into Leander's orbit...

Their duet song is linked below for the concert that has a theme inspired by the movie Moulin Rouge.

"The theme for the concert is going to be Romanticism combined with the new Bohemian movement that is sweeping across Europe," Professor Florence said, excitedly. "Some may say its all rather risqué, however the art that is being produced through this movement is divine, and the music, oh my goodness, it is doing wonders for putting bums on seats in the theatres."

"We aren't going to have to dress up like can-can girls are we?"

MC smothered a smile at the horrified voice coming from the back of the group. There was no way Professor Black was going to let them get away with that. But, this theme did intrigue her. She had heard of this movement, and any new expression of creativity was interesting.

Her gaze wandered over towards Leander, who was sitting next to Amit. He had been delighted when she had finally added her name to the list. She hadn't really been given much choice in the matter after the performance in the Three Broomsticks on Friday evening. She had been praised and encouraged so much by her friends, and then Sebastian had dragged her to the music room and stood watch as she scribed her name on the list.

"I hope you're doing this because you know you're going to be amazing, and not because you're crushing on Prewett," he'd said.

MC had swiped at him, slapping him smartly on the arm, which only brought a chuckle from his lips. "Oh, you are so crushing on him!"

"I am not!"

She had protested, but her cheeks had flamed. She had been subjected to merciless teasing ever since. Just wait until Sebastian started his next crush, she was going to give as good as she got.

Now, as her eyes kept moving towards Leander across the music room, she was beginning to wonder if Sebastian's teasing was merited. Was she developing a crush on Leander?

That could prove rather awkward. He had a girlfriend for a start, and Elizabeth was already making it obvious that she had a claim on him. MC wouldn't have said she was friendly with the Ravenclaw girl, but Elizabeth was certainly sticking her nose up in the air a lot more than usual around her. Along with touching Leander as much as possible in MC's presence.

As Professor Florence gave them some music to look up, and opened a suggestion box for ideas on what to perform, MC felt the twinges of excitement that came from a new project to sink her teeth into. And best of all, it was music related.

"Any music must uphold the message of the Bohemian movement. Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love," Professor Florence said. "Read over the copy of the French play I have given you to help inspire the sense of mood I am hoping to achieve. We are an accepting society, and I want this conveyed in our performance."

After discussing practise sessions and the matter of getting people involved for set design, the group was dismissed. MC gathered her reading material and made for the door.

"Oh, Miss MC and Mr Prewett, might I have a word?" Professor Florence called.

MC and Leander exchanged a look before heading over towards the Professor. She smiled at them both. "A little birdie told me about your little duet performance in Hogsmeade at the weekend," she said. "I'm sorry I missed it! By all accounts it was quite the show."

"It was just a bit of fun, Professor," MC said.

"But isn't that what it's all about?" She smiled. She pressed her hands together. "How would you two feel about teaming up again for the show?"

MC felt her tummy do a little flip, the idea actually rather appealing. She glanced up at Leander, nodding shyly. "Well, I'm happy to do so..."

"As am I," Leander said, immediately. He beamed at MC, and Professor clapped her hands together in delight.

"Oh, fabulous!" She said. She pointed to the booklet in MC's arms. "There are a couple of duets in there, have a practice together and see how you get on. Oh, this is wonderful!"

As they left the classroom, MC gave Leander a shy glance. "Looks like we will be spending a bit of time together, are you sure you are okay with that?"

"Of course," he said. "I think we perform well, and just think, if we do it together, then it might be easier on the old nerves."

"That's a good point," she said, nodding. But then she hesitated, pausing on the stairs. She was a step behind him, which meant that when he turned to her, their faces were more on a level. "Is Elizabeth going to be alright with this? I don't want to cause trouble between you."

His cheeks coloured a little and his smile slipped. "It's alright. You're not causing trouble," he assured.

"Are you sure? I got the impression she isn't all that keen on me. And I don't think it's entirely Crossed Wands related."

Leander rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his face awkward. "Well, she has been a little jealous, but please, don't worry. It's not your fault. I will talk to her."

MC winced. "See? I'm already causing a problem."

She was surprised when he stepped forward and took hold of her elbow. He stared into her eyes and MC felt her pulse flutter in her neck, her gaze locked on those lovely, pale eyes.

"I want to do this," he said, earnestly. "This is why I wanted you to sign up for this concert. After that night when we performed Minstrels Sonnet, I knew that we could put something amazing together. I'm not going to risk ruining that. Elizabeth will understand. She knows how much joy I get from my music, and I really want to do this. Please, don't say you are thinking of backing out. Not because of Elizabeth."

MC felt a little breathless after his speech, moved by his words, and secretly delighted that he had been equally affected by their duet. The earnest look on his face touched her, and his gentle hand on her elbow made her arm tingle.

Oh, Merlin, Sebastian was right. She was developing a crush on him. Standing here on the stairs, practically trembling under his touch, and ready to agree to whatever he asked of her, the truth was fairly obvious.

"I'm not going to back out," she promised. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He gave her one of those heart stopping smiles, like the one after they had played together for the first time. His arms twitched, and for a maddening second, she thought he was going to hug her. But he didn't.

"Brilliant," he said. He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "Then I suppose we best start practicing. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," she agreed.

As she climbed into bed, it occurred to her that she wouldn't have minded if he had hugged her. Laying back against her pillow, she pulled the blankets up to her chin, really wishing that he had.

....*....

Leander let the script of the French play fall to his bed covers and ran a hand through his hair. He blew air through his lips and stared blindly across his dormitory. Bloody hell!

He looked down again at the last closing scenes, flipping the pages to rescan the lines. This play was about two lovers, two tragic lovers, and Professor Florence wanted him to duet with MC with this material. He almost gulped at the thought, flushing as he realised he could not let Elizabeth see this. She would be furious.

He wondered if MC had read this yet. He was supposed to be meeting with her soon to start practicing, he had already played out one of the songs from this script, it wasn't too bad, but he didn't think it was going to be quite right for the concert.

He shuffled through the music sheets again, and found the song that went with the closing scene. The words were heartfelt confessions of love, deep love, and colour bloomed across his cheeks.

This was going to be the song, he just knew it. It was a duet between the lovers, admitting their love in front of her jilted groom at the wedding. Leander winced at the thought of performing this with MC in front of everyone, in front of Elizabeth.

Maybe he could try and push for a different song. It was worth the shot. But the more he looked through those on offer, he kept coming back to the lovers duet.

With a sigh, he gathered the parchments together, and then got himself ready to meet with MC.

With everyone from the group needing a place to practise, Professor Florence had offered them the use of her own music room, complete with a baby grand piano. When Leander arrived, MC was already there and playing a piece of music. He paused in the doorway, just taking a moment to watch her.

She just looked so...beautiful, so graceful, her brow creased with emotion and her hair soft about her face. She usually wore it up, but today, it was half pinned back, soft strands delicate against her cheeks.

The song she was playing was pleasing, and as he entered, he came around to see what sheet music she was following, and it didn't come as a surprise to see it was the lovers duet. Clearly, she had come to the same conclusion as him. This was the song.

She paused and looked up at him. "Hello," she said, softly.

"Ready to fall hopelessly in love?" He joked, holding up the exact same music sheet in his hands as hers on the stand.

Her eyes widened, before she looked at his sheet, her cheeks growing pink, and then she smirked. "You picked the same song."

He nodded. "It just seems right somehow, it fits the theme. Did you read the play?"

"I did, and I went to speak to Professor Florence about it," MC said. "I wanted to double check it was appropriate, and she asked if we would just perform the vocal duet for this song, and then have the orchestra as back up."

"Just sing?" He thought about that for a moment. It felt vulnerable somehow. "What would we do with our hands?'

She laughed and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Let's learn it first, and then we will go from there," he suggested.

She played the melody, and they gradually began to build the song up, learning the tune with the words. Leander's part was first, and the longest. When it came to her part, he would be singing parts with her in harmony, and when they did this, there were some hiccups that had them chuckling at themselves.

Her voice seeped through him, and he soaked it up, felt it surrounding him until those words started to take on a life of their own. He took a turn at the piano so that she could focus on her singing, and he wished he didn't have to keep concentrating on the music sheet before him. He wanted to watch her, see the look on her face as she poured herself into the words.

When they took a break, Leander poured her a drink from the jug on the side and leaned across the top of the piano, sipping from his own cup as she sat on the bench.

"How do you think we're doing?" She asked. "Do you think we can pull this off?"

He twirled his cup in his hands. "Yes, I think we can," he said. He met her eyes. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but...I think...we have some kind of chemistry between us. The music just seems to work. I've never performed like this with anyone before. It's...amazing."

He had dared to speak those words aloud, and he tensed as he waited for her reaction. Had he revealed too much? Guilt plagued him as he thought about Elizabeth. It was getting harder to keep her front and centre, his thoughts were consumed by the girl in front of him.

She flushed and looked down into her cup. She was nodding slightly. "I agree," she said, quietly.

He expelled the breath he had been holding, his heart thumping, his ears ringing a little. She agreed they had chemistry. He stored that away to think over later, for now, he needed to get back into safer territory.

"Have you ever written any music of your own?" He asked.

"Not really," she answered. She looked back up at him, and a wisp of hair fell across her cheek. He absently wondered how it would feel to brush that hair back from her face. She lifted a hand to brush it back herself and he took a steadying breath. He shouldn't be thinking these things.

She gave a little shrug. "I've never really thought about writing my own. As long as I am playing music then I am happy, whether that be classical, or something more modern. It depends on my mood."

"I can relate to that," he nodded.

"It's an escape, isn't it?"

Her smile was sad, and it pulled at something inside of him. It made him ache and he wanted to take that sadness away from her. His look was curious, wondering what it was that troubled her. He realised he didn't actually know that much about her. "What are you escaping from?" He asked.

"Oh, you know..." She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

He felt his cheeks burn. Of course, that was something very personal. His brain scrambled for something to say, kicking himself for putting his foot in it as usual.

He cleared his throat. "I er...well, I have written a few things for myself. I have never played them for anyone though, but I could play one for you, if you would like. You can let me know what you think."

"Really?" She brightened, a small smile curving her mouth. "You'd really play something so private for me?"

"I trust your opinion," he said. And that was the truth.

She flushed with delight and got up from the bench. "Please, do play it for me. You have me intrigued."

He chuckled as he sat on the seat. "Don't get your hopes up. You haven't heard it yet."

....*....

MC stood with her hands on the piano top in the intimate music room, watching as Leander began to play the song he had composed himself. It was soft, the melody immediately captivating her. When Leander began to sing, his voice taking on that cadence that she was growing to adore, he sung about a girl that he loved, but could never have. She was so close, but there was something in the way.

There was a ring of honesty to the words, highlighted by the emotions that were playing out across his face. He almost looked sad. MC felt every word, a sadness building in her own chest. She couldn't take her eyes off him, her heart aching. Either this was from real experience, or he was just that talented at bringing a song to life.

She couldn't decide which it was, but when the song ended, he couldn't look at her. Confusion swirled in her thoughts. He had a girlfriend. Surely that meant he was happy, right? He had got the girl.

"Wow, Leander," she breathed. "Whoever that girl is, she doesn't know what she is missing out on. It was heart breaking, but so beautiful."

She watched as he swallowed hard, his throat working. He rubbed his face with his hand. "I wrote this a while ago," he said. "It's been some time since I've played it."

"Is that because you have Elizabeth now?" She smiled.

Leander skipped his eyes away and winced. "Maybe." He stood, fiddling with the button on his waistcoat. "Would you like to continue?"

Sensing that he needed to change the subject, she nodded, and they spent some more time on the duet. But there was still a lingering sadness in his eyes, and the emotion had tipped towards something melancholy when he sung.

Over the next week, they worked on their song until they were note perfect, meeting every day. MC didn't bring up his own song again, but she found herself wondering who he had written it for. Whenever she saw him with Elizabeth, she watched them, as discreetly as she could, and noticed that it was always her who initiated any physical contact. Was he just not in to public displays of affection? Or was there more to it?

At night, MC would lie in her bed, the duet spinning through her mind, distracting her. They were ready to present it to Professor Florence, and she wondered if they had done enough. Were they capable of pulling it off and showcasing two people in love?

She was worried. She knew Elizabeth was not happy about the amount of time Leander was spending with her, and she wondered how the love song would go down once performed publicly. Was this going to affect their performance?

It all certainly didn't help with the nerves that were slowly building within her. Or the fact that Leander Prewett was slowly getting under skin, invading her thoughts, and making her lie awake at night imagining what might happen if things were different. What if he wasn't with Elizabeth?

....*....

Leander leant his head back against the tree trunk and sighed, tired from a day of study and classes. The warm weight of Elizabeth's head in his lap wasn't really much of a comfort. His legs felt restless, but he didn't want to keep fidgeting and disturb her reading.

They hadn’t spent much time together lately what with music practise, and that was a sensitive subject. He still hadn't told her what he would be singing, but she knew it was with MC. The whole concert group knew so it wasn't possible to keep it a secret.

He inwardly cringed at the way he wanted to keep secrets from Elizabeth, and not for the first time he wondered if maybe he should break things off with her. Relationships were built on trust, were they not? And he was doing her a disservice.

He didn’t seem to be able to give Elizabeth all of himself. Playing his own song to MC had proved that. What had possessed him to do such a thing? The song had been about her for Merlin's sake!

Ever since he had done that, and after what she had said afterwards, everything he had pressed down and hidden from himself had risen to the top. Singing that duet with her was starting to mean something dangerous.

He looked down at Elizabeth's pretty face, the light dusting of freckles across her nose, and the soft blonde curls that tumbled over her head. He had not believed his luck when they had started dating. But, and it was the but that made him wince, she was not her.

He brushed a blonde curl back from Elizabeth's forehead and thought about how he had fantasised about doing the same to MC. Elizabeth's lips curved into a smile, lips he had kissed, many times.

This was wrong.

He took his hand away and turned to look across the grounds of Hogwarts. How to find the words to bring it to an end. His mother had not raised a liar and he was ashamed of what he was doing. This was emotional infidelity and Elizabeth deserved better.

"What troubles you, my love?" Elizabeth shifted. She looked up at him, closing her book. "You look sad. You have done for a few days actually."

He forced himself to look at her. "Tired, I guess," he said. She sat up and kissed him on the mouth and he just couldn't return it properly.

"You've been pushing yourself too hard," she said. "You need a break." A small grin spread across her face. "Want to sneak off somewhere and indulge in some stress relief?'

He felt his cheeks warm up at the suggestive tone of her voice. Just lately she had been pushing for this more and more, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was jealousy driven. He should be flattered, and in a way he was, but he was also uncomfortable. They had fooled around, but he had held off on taking her to bed properly.

He tried and failed to smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted, forcing her sit up straighter. A frown of confusion flickered on her brow and he winced. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I don't think that's a good idea."

Her face fell. "Why not?"

"I just think it's best we don't," he said.

"Now, or...or ever?" Her lips trembled.

"I'm sorry," he winced.

She blinked, her cheeks paling first, and then flushing as her mouth tightened. "It's because of her isn't it?" She bit the words out harshly. She turned away from him, blinking away the tears flooding her eyes, and he felt like a right bastard. Because she was right.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "No, nothing is going on with MC, I have told you that, repeatedly," he said. "I wouldn't betray you like that. This is about you and me."

She glared at him. "Liar," she spat. "You must think I am an idiot. I have eyes, and I see the way you two look at each other. She doesn't look at Sebastian that way and they are fucking joined at the hip. The only reason this isn't working for you, Leander, is because you want her, tell me I am wrong."

He shook his head. "Please, Elizabeth..."

She growled and got to her feet, her face livid. "Bastard!" She cried. "Well, she is welcome to you! Go and be with Miss Fucking Perfect if that's what you want, you deserve each other."

Leander cringed, his shoulders slumping as Elizabeth stormed across the grounds, her back rigid. He rubbed his face with both hands and sighed.

That was bloody horrible!

....*....

The music coming from the piano was a dark, emotional piece, and MC entered the music room slowly, her eyes falling on Leander as his hands moved dramatically across the keys to accommodate the complex chords. He looked in pain, distressed, and she almost turned to leave until she realised that he was crying.

Torn between going to him, and giving him some privacy, she hovered, anxiously twisting her hands. Then, he stopped playing, removing his hands from the keys and he spun to face her. He wiped his face and shook his head. "Apologies," he said, thickly. "Please, excuse the state of me."

He got to his feet and picked up his robe from where he had draped it over the wood railing. "I will leave you to it," he said.

"Leander...are you alright?" She asked. Her heart twisted at the flicker of emotion that crossed his face. She risked a step closer. "What is it?"

He sighed. "I behaved like a bastard today," he said. He couldn't meet her eyes and he shook his head, turning to move past her. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this."

On instinct, she reached out and gripped his forearm, halting him before he could pass her. She looked up at his tear stained face, his reddened eyes. "Wait," she pleaded. "Don't go off alone like this. Talk to me, maybe I can help."

He bit his lower lip, wincing. "I ended things with Elizabeth, and now she hates me, which is no more than I deserve."

MC blinked in surprise. "Oh! I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," he said. His eyes met hers, his gaze softening. "Definitely not your fault. This is on me."

His voice cracked a little on the last word and he took a breath. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Stop apologising for feeling sad, Leander," she said. "There is no shame in it. In fact, if you need to cry, then do it. I'm not here to judge. But I might hold your hand if that would help. Just don't run off to cry alone, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered. He gave her a sad, half smile. "You're too kind, you know. I'm not sure I deserve it."

"No such thing as too kind," she said. Unable to stand it a moment longer, she pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him. She placed her head facing outwards against his shoulder and rubbed his back, trying to offer him so comfort.

He stiffened at first, and kept his arms at his sides, but then he slowly responded, his arms coming around her, and his head bent to lean against hers. They remained like that for a few moments, and MC closed her eyes, telling herself that he was heart broken here. She shouldn't be savouring the solid feel of him under her cheek, or breathing in slow and deep to savour the clean scent of his jumper, and the inticing scent of his cologne.

It felt too good to be this close to him, and she couldn't help but probe the thought that he no longer had a girlfriend. Flushing at her forward thoughts, she was glad he couldn't see her face.

She shifted slightly, the movement nuzzling her cheek against him, and then she felt the soft touch of his fingers in her hair at the back of her head. The drag of finger tips grazing her scalp sent a shiver down her spine and he stilled at her shudder. Goosebumps erupted up her arms and her heart was in her throat making it hard to breathe.

She could hear his quickened breaths and she lifted her head to slowly look up at him. This close to him she could see the little flecks in his irises, the delicate sprinkle of his freckles and she felt like they were both suspended in time, gazes locked, his hand in her hair and her fingers gripping at the back of his jumper.

He whispered her name and her gaze dropped to his mouth. His lower lip was so full, so inviting and her chest tightened, pulse flickering as he lowered his face to hers. His kiss was soft, oh so gentle, but deliciously erotic as his lips dragged over hers. They both breathed hotly, lips parting, hovering a whisper apart. Desire was a swift, burning wave surging through her and she craved more.

His tongue flicked to graze her lower lip before he kissed her again, harder this time, the sound of it loud in the quiet room. His grip tightened in her hair, tilting her head back so he could claim her mouth again, his moan a desperate sound that sent a shock of heat through her.

They were moving, her back meeting with the wooden railing that ran the length of this level. He pressed against her, the solid weight of him crushing her against the wood as his tongue swept into her mouth. She welcomed him, kissing him back.

It wasn't a crush. This was more. She gasped for her breaths as his mouth moved to press slow, hungry kisses along her jaw and down to her neck, his tongue swirling to taste her. She moaned and tilted her head, exposing her throat to him, her eyes blinking as she gazed up towards the huge bells and rafters of the tower above them.

"Fuck," he hissed. He stopped kissing her, pulling back and putting his hands to his face. "What am I doing? Gods, I'm so sorry."

"What?" She panted. "No, don't be sorry..."

He shook his head, backing away. "Forgive me..."

His eyes were dark and tortured, his cheeks flushed and still stained with tears. He pushed a hand through his hair, muttering more apologies before he turned and hurried from the room.

MC was still leaning against the railing, her heart thudding, her lips swollen from his kisses and her mind spinning in disbelief at what had just happened.

He had kissed her, and she had liked it. No, she more than liked it, his mouth waking up a need inside her that warmed and clawed at her insides.

There was no denying it now. She wanted him, and he had just run out of the door away from her.

Now what?

To be continued... Part Three

#Spotify #hogwarts legacy fanfic #mc x leander prewett #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #blueraineshadows

[kiltongrammarwriter94]

Some Pippa thoughts for today. Enjoy my ramble🫡 University Pippa Bellow

“Quantum Entanglements: Pippa’s Theorem of Love”

Pippa Fitz-Amobi, the girl who usually has her thoughts all organized and neatly cataloged in her brain? Yeah, well, she’s currently experiencing a major system malfunction. And by that, I mean her heart is doing this weird jittery dance, and her words are tripping over each other like clumsy puppies. ‘Okay, deep breaths, Pippa. You’ve faced serial killers, cryptic clues, and academic deadlines. Surely, confessing feelings for a girl can’t be that hard, right? ‘Wrong. So wrong.

One night, while dissecting a particularly baffling case, Pippa glances at you and realizes how captivating your eyes are. It’s not just the mystery that keeps her intrigued—it’s the girl sitting across from her. You frequent the same cozy coffee shop near campus. Pippa orders her usual black coffee, and you prefer a chai latte. One day, as you share a table, Pippa notices the way your fingers delicately hold the cup. The warmth of the drink contrasts with the chill in the air, and Pippa’s heart skips a beat. She wonders if it’s the girl or the caffeine causing her fluttery feelings.

During a lecture, Pippa catches your eye from across the room. The professor drones on about forensic evidence, but all Pippa can focus on is the curve of the your lips as you smile at something Jane from political science says. She wonders if you notice her too. Maybe it’s the way the your hair falls over your shoulder or the softness of your laughter. Pippa’s heart races, and she realizes that it’s not just academic interest anymore. And suddenly, it hits her like a rogue wave: She likes girls. A lot.

Her brain goes haywire. She imagines herself blurting it out mid-sentence to Cara: “Did you know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell? Also, I think I might be gay.”

Pippa tries to strike up a conversation. “Hey, um, have you read the latest research on cold cases? Fascinating stuff, really. Also, your hair looks—uh, I mean, the research. Yes, the research!” You raise an eyebrow. Pippa’s inner monologue: Abort mission! Abort!

Pippa lies awake at night, analyzing every interaction. Did you smile more when she talked about unsolved mysteries? Was that a flirty laugh or just a regular laugh? Is she reading too much into this? (Spoiler: Yes, she is.)

She Googles “How to know if you’re gay” and ends up in a Wikipedia rabbit hole about sexual orientation theories. It’s like her brain is on shuffle mode.

Pippa stands in front of her closet, agonizing over what to wear. She’s dissected crime scenes in blood-spattered jeans, but this? This is a whole new level of anxiety. She settles on a slightly wrinkled blouse and wonders if it screams “I’m into girls” or just “I overslept.” Pippa creates a spreadsheet. Column A: Your quirks. Column B: Her heart rate when you smile. Column C: Probability of mutual attraction. She calculates the correlation coefficient and concludes that her feelings are statistically significant.

Pippa observes you from a distance. She notices how your eyes crinkle when you laugh, how your fingers tap rhythmically against the table during intense discussions.

She scribbles notes in her detective journal: “Subject exhibits signs of extreme adorableness. Further investigation warranted.”

Pippa rehearses confessions in her head. “Y/n, I’ve deduced that my feelings for you are not unlike a rare unsolved case. Compelling, mysterious, and keeping me up at night.” But when she opens her mouth, all that comes out is, “So, um, do you like Coffee?”

Pippa dissects every text from you. “She used an exclamation mark! Does that mean she’s excited? Or just grammatically enthusiastic?”She consults her best friend, Ravi, who suggests, “Maybe she just likes punctuation.”

Pippa’s mum catches her staring dreamily at you during dinner. She leans in and whispers, “Sweetie, if she’s your Watson, don’t let her be your Moriarty.” Pippa chokes on her peas. Her mum winks and adds, “And wear something nice tomorrow.”

It takes courage and enough chats with Cara, but pip eventually asks you out to to a true crime museum. She’d stumbled over her words, but you had accepted, because she looked so cute with her cheeks red. You both examine bloodstain patterns and discuss alibis.

You lean in and whisper “I think I’ve cracked the case. It’s called love.”

Pippa’s heart rate spikes. She’s pretty sure she’s solved the greatest mystery of all. Now all thanks to you Cara grumbles as she is forced to watch pip flirt with you during chemistry. It goes a bit like this

Pippa leans against a lab bench. “Did you know that neurotransmitters play a crucial role in attraction?You raise an eyebrow. “Really?” Pippa deadpans, “Yes. Dopamine, norepinephrine, and a dash of witty banter. It’s called the Chemistry of Crushing.”

You can hear Cara behind you, “what the hell?” She whispers.

#agggtm #a good girls guide to murder #pippa fitz amobi #Pippa fitz Amobi x fem reader #pipa fitz amobi x fem reader #emma myers x reader #university Pippa #Headcannons

[haijmei]

birthday surprise

at exactly midnight, bokuto surprises you with a gift and a confession for your birthday.

bokuto koutaro x reader :: post-timeskip :: 900 words

a/n: apologize if this isn’t well written </3 but please do enjoy the first installment of my new series!

series masterlist here!

it was nearing midnight, 11:57 read the time on your phone. meaning— it was definitely the time for you to be asleep, but you found it difficult for you to keep your eyes closed for more than a minute.

was your birthday making you antsy? maybe, but you only expected just a few greetings, probably a gift from your family or two. but deep down you knew you hoped—prayed even— that you’d get more than a few acknowledgments, specifically from a certain flamboyant man.

the certain man in your mind was one you just met recently, yet hit it off as soon as you gave each other your names. you knew him as bokuto koutaro, but he insisted you call him kou to ease any tensions and get rid of any formalities. he was an easy guy to get along with, always inviting you to any outings he and his team were going on. this was when you figured out he played volleyball professionally, and if that didn’t strike you as alluring and intriguing, it was maybe when he called you beautiful when he saw you in your stunning dress that you started to recognize your feelings for him.

and part of you believed that he had some sort of romantic connection to you—he always held your hand or waist whenever he could. it seemed as if he could never keep your hands off you, yet always left them in appropriate areas. the glances he would give you always shone the brightest aura, and his smile would reciprocate that same brightness. it seemed as if your presence made everything better for him.

but still, you were unsure if he was just being friendly or he actually had a thing for you. thoughts like this always plagued your mind, bringing you to imagine scenarios in your head with him as the main subject. and of course, you imagined him taking you out to dinner on your birthday and maybe asking you out as his girlfriend? of course, you figured it wouldn’t happen—him being way out of your league, you felt insecure and self conscious.

you sighed as you checked the time once again—12:03. the only greeting you got so far was from one of your best friends at exactly 12. you smiled, replying back to her text until your phone vibrated.

looking at the caller id, your heart skipped a beat.

bokuto koutaro.

you took a bit to compose yourself, hiding the evidence of your excitement and waiting a bit to seem as if you weren’t expecting his call or anything of the sorts.

you pressed answer.

“hello?”

“oh! y/n! hi, happy birthday!”

you smiled as you settled yourself between the sheets and comforter. “thank you, kou. isn’t it late for you? you had practice, right?”

he breathed heavily through the receiver. “no, i was at home, just sitting and stuff like i would normally do,” he spoke. his tone seemed off.

“uh, okay,” you chuckled. “what are you up to right now?”

you heard shuffling and footsteps. “ah, i’m just about to go home. busy day and all. you’re home, right?”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “y-yeah? why?”

“oh, nothing. just wondering. but talk to you soon, kay? see you!” and just like that, bokuto had hung up the phone.

you felt your nerves uneasy, but anticipation was rising in your bones. then, you heard the doorbell and all of your excitement burst in your body. you grabbed a jacket, rushing to the front door where you opened it to see the man of the hour at your front door, still in his practice clothes yet holding a bouquet of roses and a cake.

“kou! ah, this is a surprise,” you exclaimed brightly. he smiled, handing off your gifts to you. “for you, happy birthday y/n.”

inspecting the flowers, it was a lavish arrangement with smaller flowers accessorizing the roses. the whole thing was wrapped in white and red parchment paper and tied off with a silver ribbon. the cake was simple but elegant at the same time—a heart shaped cake with the words ‘happy birthday’ all in a bright pink cursive font. the border was a frilly-like design, topped off with strawberries.

“kou, you didn’t have to do this for me,” you whined, complaining at the effort he went through, yet couldn’t exactly. after all, you’ve dreamed of something like this to happen. it was as if your dreams had came true.

“of course i did, after all i care a lot about you,” he smiled. he walked up to you, cupping your cheek, making you shy under his touch and laughing at your timidity. “sorry, but i, uh…”

his voice trailed off, looking everywhere but you. he laughed and smiled once more before grabbing your free hand. “it may seem like a weird time to tell you, but uh, i really like spending time with you. you make me super happy, and you’re like my favorite person. i wanted to ask if i could be your boyfriend.” now, it was his turn to shy under your gaze.

you squeezed his hand in assurance, giggling at his nervousness. he looked back at you with a pout, which you kissed away as you planted your lips on his cheek.

“kou, i’ve been dreaming about this for forever. i really like you too, and yes, i’d be glad to call you my boyfriend.”

his eyes doubled in size, sparkling with joy at your own confession. he brought you into a tight hug, laughing at the nature of his courting, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. it seemed like all of this had been a dream come true—for you and your boyfriend.

#❥ :: series #❥ :: works of art #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #bokuto koutaro #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto koutaro fluff #bokuto koutaro x reader