#Bill Skarsgard oneshot

[kingkat12]

you're my drug (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, sexual imagery, foul language, mentions of drugs/tobacco

summary: after you got caught making out with Eric at rehab, everything suddenly spirals into something much deeper

word count: 5,022 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part two of draw you! enjoy!!<3

As I stood in the courtyard, kicking some rocks along during my lap around the premises, I couldn't help but wonder when I would see Eric again. It had been a week since we were caught making out in his room, and I had just gotten out of a two-day solitary confinement— it was definitely a harsher punishment than expected. Then again, I should've known; this place was an absolute shithole. 

The worst part of the ordeal was having to write down my feelings and get another check from the warden, along with questions about whether or not I was a nymphomaniac. Excuse me?

Had Eric gotten a harsher repercussion than me? Maybe he had been moved to a different rehabilitation center? I didn't want to think about it. Again, I shouldn't be worrying about a stranger I barely knew. It was a little reckless of me to care for someone who had drawn me naked— now that I wasn't in a state of arousal, it dawned on me how creepy that actually was.

But then again... I had been the one to jump him. That was on me. Had I not offered up, I wouldn't feel so attached to him. 

... Maybe I was a nymphomaniac? Fuck.

So when I eventually lost track of where I had kicked my stone, I started looking for new ones. And it was during my hunt for entertainment that I eventually spotted a familiar tall figure entering the courtyard. 

Eric's cheeks were more hollow than the last time I had seen him, and I couldn't help the guilt that immediately seeped into my system. He seemed much darker than I remembered, the green in his eyes no longer having that playful shimmer I could spot from far away. However, when he spotted me on his way through the courtyard with a guard by his side, something changed in Eric. The flush in his cheeks returned, his eyes widened, and I could see the faint remnants of the smile that had etched itself into my mind for nights on end. But when he met my gaze, he looked away in a flash-- was he afraid we'd be caught staring at each other again?

I couldn't even control the way I immediately jumped into action as the guards left Eric's side, and I made my way to him with a confident stride. "Well, if it isn't Michelangelo?" I said, approaching with a smile. Seeing him in the flesh again made the tips of my fingers tingle, a certain excitement building in my system. "Where have you been? Did they put you in confinement too?"

But the smile I had seen in him earlier wasn't there anymore-- he turned to me, face blank. Eric blinked twice, watching me as though he didn't know why I was talking to him at all, his nose scrunching up. 

My pulse quickened as my anxiety rose; what was happening? 

"We shouldn't be talking," Eric eventually mumbled, looking away. His green eyes darted towards the guards on duty, wary of their movements. It didn't take long before he started walking away from me, which in turn left me stunned. 

I wondered whether I had said something wrong as I watched him join a few guys that were working out, and I had to take a deep breath to ground myself.  Everything about this made me feel like a complete and utter idiot-- I turned away from Eric, rubbing my temples as I made my way back inside. This was giving me a bigger headache than the ones I would get after coming down from a high.

This definitely felt similar to that; the crushing feeling. Having Eric dismiss me like that after what we had done felt more painful than usual, now that I couldn't dull down my feelings with anything. 

I walked back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Everything about this made my whole body ache, and I couldn't understand why I even cared to this degree. 

Had I been so delusional as to think Eric felt something for me too?

Later that night, I didn't care to come out for the last meal. Something told me I'd be staring at Eric again and that he'd dismiss me once more, and I didn't know if I could take it. I hadn't missed drugs as much as now-- everything about this situation reminded me of how I ended up here in the first place.

As I lay in my bed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up a new woman, I was dragged out of my sleepy state when I heard a light shuffling sound coming from my door. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before my gaze slowly darted towards the commotion. 

There it was. A note?

I went to pick it up, feeling my heart thump hard in my chest in anticipation. The paper was familiar, like rough velvet to my fingers, and the same size as a page from a notebook. The smile that crept up my lips was impossible to suppress-- I turned the paper to see a new drawing of me, made in the same scratchy style as the previous ones I had seen. 

It was an image of me laying in a bed, my eyes hidden in the crook of my arm, lips parted as though I was drawing in a big breath. The pink jumper I was pictured in was a lot bigger than mine; I suspected it was supposed to be Eric's. From the waist down, I was wearing nothing but a black pair of underwear, my legs dangling halfway off the bed. 

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my chest rise as my heart skipped a beat-- it was beautiful. Completely breathtaking. And in the corner to the upper right, there was a scribbled message with boyish writing that was hard to understand;

messy mornings. let's have those someday? xx

My smile only spread, and I let out a shaky breath of relief as I leaned my forehead against my door, pressing the drawing tightly against my chest. The joy that coursed through my veins reminded me of the same euphoric feeling I'd get from doing a certain type of drug-- I wasn't sure whether it was good for me or not to be feeling these things, but I knew I was addicted already. 

Was Eric maybe addicted to me as well? Was the incident in the courtyard just something he did in front of the guards, straying away from trouble?

I couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, I had gotten confirmation that he definitely thought about me too, and that was all I needed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I could swear it was the same as getting high-- seeing Eric, I mean. It was especially exhilarating knowing he was right in front of me, but that I couldn't say a word to him. 

We were currently in a typical meeting, a group of people sitting in a circle trying to work through why they had started drinking or using. I hated these gatherings the most; I wasn't the biggest fan of airing out my life to strangers. 

But today was different. Eric had joined my group, even though his meeting usually took place later in the evening. I felt the air seep out of my lungs the second I spotted him in the door, watching him with eyes wider than expensive plates of china as he sat down on the chair opposite me in the circle, locking his gaze on me. 

And there he sat, in a casual manspread as he twiddled his thumbs, waiting his turn. His dark mullet had grown out a little, the hair on his forehead inching closer to his eyes with each week he was here. It was easy to get lost when I stared at him for too long, hypnotized by his tall build and his green, green eyes darting right back at me. The smirk playing across his lips mirrored mine, both of us feeling the tension thicken between us despite knowing our minds should be elsewhere at this moment.

I had gotten so swept up with Eric that I nearly jumped out of my chair when my name was called. My eyes frantically ripped themselves off of him, finding the guidance counselor with a confused look. What question was I supposed to answer? 

The counselor cleared her throat; "How are you planning to change your habits once you get out of rehabilitation?"

Oh. I had no idea. Flustered, I ended up shrugging, avoiding Eric's amused gaze. "I think... I might have to work on my impulses. So I guess I will try to make sure I don't give in to bad habits by..." I realized I was completely lost, and it made my cheeks flush. "By doing, uh... Doing breathing exercises?"

My eyes snapped toward the sound that came from the other end of the room-- I watched as Eric clasped a hand over his mouth, head hanging low to hide his blatant amusement. Was that a snort I heard? I had to actively bite back a smile from forming, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip with a force I had never used before.

The counselor cleared her throat, clearly unhappy with the direction this was heading. "Yes, Eric? Do you have anything to say?"

His green eyes darted up from his lap, and it was obvious that he was biting down on the inside of his cheek. Eric crossed his arms over his chest, nodding to himself as though he was thinking. "Well, if you're asking me the same question, I think I plan to surround myself with people I love. I think that's where it went wrong the last time," 

I held my breath-- I hadn't expected him to say that. And I had most certainly not expected Eric's eyes to find me immediately after, realizing his pupils had widened the second they landed on me. 

I didn't try to suppress my smile this time. I let it happen, watching as Eric smiled right back with a shimmer in his eyes. 

Something told me I was actually going to get something good out of group therapy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... It dawned on me a few days later that I didn't have much time left in rehab. It also happened to dawn on me at the exact moment another drawing slipped under my door, right around the time I was ready to go to bed. 

It was probably the fifth one this week, and I had laid them out neatly on my nightstand. Every image was as beautiful as the last one-- two of me in bed, one of me out in the courtyard again, and one of me during a group session falling asleep on Eric's shoulder. It warmed my heart to think that he had thought about that imagery when we had sat opposite each other a few days ago. Actually, everything about this warmed my heart.

However, today's drawing caught me off-guard. Today, it was a nude one-- deja vu. My eyes locked on the image of me in what looked like Eric's room, gripping his hair as his head was dipped between my legs. One hand was clasped over my chest, and the other one was digging its fingers into my thigh, holding me down. Everything about it made my heart stop, letting out a laboured breath at the sight. 

As always, there was a small message in the upper right corner;

in an alternative universe, there wouldn't be guards outside and there would be no stopping us.  can't wait to taste you xx

My hands gripped the paper, almost to the verge of curling it. It felt as though my body was actively on fire, a need ripping its way through my chest. And it was this exact feeling that had me rushing to put the drawing away before bolting out my door, knowing Eric couldn't have gone too far. 

Thankfully, I had been right. I spotted Eric further down the hall, towering over the people passing him. It was impossible not to notice the tattoos poking up from under his pink jumper, and something about it made my heart race even faster-- I so desperately wanted to see everything. Feel him beneath the pads of my fingertips. 

And I burned. Burned, burned, burned up. And I kept on burning as I sped down the hallway, hearing the loud clacking of my shoes echo through the space along with the thumping of my heart. "Eric!"

Hearing his name, Eric turned around, eyes wide in surprise. "Hey, you," he murmured, brows knitting together as though he was about to scold me. "Thought you were sleeping?"

I finally caught up to him, quickly scanning our surroundings, realizing we were alone. 

"... Are you here to return the drawing?" Eric asked, tilting his head to the side as he scanned the look on my face. A nervous smile spread across his lips, and he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as his eyes flickered around the hallway. "Might've been a little much, sure, but you didn't seem to mind it the last time?--"

His words trailed off as the small hand tugging at his jumper caught his attention. Eric's eyes rounded out, immediately understanding what I was getting at. When he leaned down, I let out a shaky breath before I flung my arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

I had hoped it would satiate the burn ravaging my body, but it didn't. As Eric's big arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him, the fire only spread. My hands barely had time to go up into his hair, tugging softly at his dark locks, before he pulled away with an airy chuckle. "You'll get us in trouble again,"

That's true-- "Fuck," was the only thing I managed to say. 

Humming, Eric glanced down the hall before pulling my hand into his, intertwining our fingers as he led me away. I was glad it was almost time for bed, seeing as there were barely any people out in the hallway and the guards were relaxing outside on their cigarette break. A familiar dulling of my brain seeped into my system as I remembered the smell of their cigarettes gliding into my room from outside-- I missed nicotine. But Eric was better than any cigarettes. Better than anything I had ever taken before. No high could match the one I would get from locking eyes with him, getting a drawing under my door, or the feeling currently coursing through my veins as he led me into a desolate stairwell. "This will do for now," he muttered, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'll make sure to bring you somewhere nice when we're both out of here."

As my back hit the wall, I couldn't suppress my growing smirk as Eric neared me. The last time we had stood like this, had been right before he left my room after we made out. Seeing how tall he was, casting a shadow as he towered over me, I let out a sigh of joy; I had missed this. I had missed him. There was nothing that could make me happier than being alone with him. "I'm getting out of here soon, actually,"

Eric hummed as he placed his hand against the wall next to my head, his green eyes locking with mine. I wasn't too afraid to show my burning state-- he watched my lips part as I stared up at him, and I watched his jaw clench as he tried to digest the look in my eyes.

Sex. I was giving him those bedroom eyes that always worked on every guy I had ever been with. My eyes got all glassy, my thick lashes hanging low. I was quite sure I would let him fuck me right here if he wanted to-- I was past the point of caring who caught us. 

"Soon, you say? How soon?" Eric asked, leaning down to press two separate kisses against the corners of my mouth. 

I had to control the way my breath hitched before I answered; "A week and a half,"

Nodding, Eric's fingers brushed against my lips, pressing into the skin as he watched my expression with a heated one of his own. His thumb dipped past my lips, brushing against the tip of my tongue. "I'm out in three," 

I smiled before wrapping my mouth softly around his thumb, watching a breath escape him as his green eyes locked on the sight. Eric leaned down to kiss my cheek, watching as they flushed when he pulled his finger out of my mouth. "Where can I find you when we're out?"

"You seriously think I would leave this place without giving you my address?"

"Okay, good," Eric chuckled, his eyes rounding out with a newfound softness. "Because I think I'll need you out there more than I need you now."

What? I swallowed, biting down on my lower lip. Did he reciprocate the way I was feeling these things? I wondered whether he also felt the pit of fire in his stomach, whether he couldn't breathe whenever I wasn't around, and whether thoughts of me also wreaked havoc through his mind in every waking moment. 

Eric's eyes lowered, taking in my stunned silence. "Honestly, I thought this was purely a lust thing, but... I've come to realize it's not just that. The one thing rehab has taught me, is that I need to break my habits, so here I am. Not running,"

I hadn't smiled this brightly in years. "Eric?"

A hum.

"I feel the same way," I reached out for his face, glad he had bent down a little to make it possible. "I'm quite sure I've gone mad, but standing with you here feels better than any drugs I've ever taken. And quite frankly, that drawing... Fuck, that was quite something." A breathy giggle escaped me, watching as Eric met my gaze with a smirk playing across his plush, pink lips. "That shit was hot. You're so fucking talented, do you know that?"

Eric freed his lower lip from his teeth, inching closer to gently nudge his nose against me. "Nope, I definitely don't know that. Completely oblivious. Which is why I need you around to tell me that, once in a while,"

"I'll tell you every day, if you want," I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of our closeness. 

"Good," Eric whispered against my lips, his hands now grabbing at my waist, pressing himself closer to me. "And I'll eat you out every day. Deal?"

I was quite sure I was going to faint. Remember the drawing, I couldn't wait for our time to come. "Sounds like better therapy than anything they've done for me here,"

"Definitely," 

I smiled, giving his dark hair a tug, pulling Eric against me to connect our lips in a passionate kiss. 

How we had gone from staring at each other to this, I had no idea. How it became this enormous feeling burning through my body, I couldn't guess the answer. But the one thing I knew, was that it felt right-- being with Eric like this felt right. Correct. Perfect. 

As our kisses grew with hunger, resembling that one evening on Eric's bed, my body began to grow flushed as his hands dipped beneath my pink jumper, traveling up my torso with a fiery need to be close. "Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling away, panting just slightly.

I nodded, unable to wipe the grin off my face as my sweater got discarded somewhere on the floor, licking my lips out of pure habit. Eric was quick to dip his head forward, swiping his own tongue along mine. My back arched off the wall in surprise, the movement against his body earning me a small groan. This was how I realized he was hard-- I had to suppress another hitch of my breath.

"Shit, I want to take it all off," Eric whispered against my lips. "Everything. Feel all of you." He pressed his lips against my chin, moving his way down my throat and to my neck. I could feel the cool air hitting my back as he lifted my shirt off as well-- my nipples hardened at his attention, his hands gripping my breasts through my bra, squeezing them. 

I whimpered against his touch, writhing in anticipation. I had no idea what he had planned for me, if we were going to go all the way or not; I could already feel my excitement pool between my legs, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The arousal had been in my system since the second I saw today's drawing, and I let it out by tugging at his dark hair once more, hoping for him to come back up. "Eric, kiss me-- Wanna feel you too," 

I watched Eric's eyes light up as he pulled away and met mine. And he complied, capturing my lips in a needy kiss, his big hands gripping at my hips and digging into my skin through my trousers. Realizing I was the only one with my shirt off, my hands dipped under his, hoping he'd get the memo as I tugged at the hem of his pink sweater. 

Eric's lips barely left mine as he discarded his sweater elsewhere, satisfaction coursing through my veins as our chests pressed up against each other, our hearts beating at the other through our skin. I had desperately wanted to see his tattoos, drink in the sight of the art scattered across his body, but it hit me that we didn't have time-- we didn't know when we'd be caught. I figured I'd leave it to the time we'd be out of rehab, when we'd have time for messy mornings every day, and when we had time to be buried in each other completely. 

"I don't know if I can wait three weeks," I breathed in between hungry kisses, my hands running up and down his toned torso. 

Eric hummed against my lips; "Me neither," 

And with that, it didn't take long before his slender fingers dipped down into my underwear, making my breath hitch at the realization of what was happening. "Been dreaming about this for weeks," Eric whispered, one of his hands disappearing in my hair to hold me in place, making sure my eyes met his as he rubbed tight circles around my clit. "You're all I ever think about."

My mouth was open against his, small gasps escaping past my lips, bucking into his hand as he sped up his movements around my clit. "I'm so crazy about you," I whimpered, watching the green of his eyes swallow me whole with adoration and lust. My mind still hadn't completely registered that this was happening, especially not under the blue lights of the stairwell. "You're better than drugs, I swear."

Eric chuckled against my lips, watching me moan against him as he patted the pad of his finger against the slick of my core. "Better than drugs, you say?"

"Much better," My words were barely coming out properly, and any continuation of that sentence was stopped the second Eric pressed a finger into me. My breath hitched-- fuck. 

He hummed, a sweet smile splayed across his lips; "You're my drug," 

It was almost too much-- I bucked against his hand once more, squirming in his grip as the flame spread through my body. I really couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy or aroused. I let out a breathy moan as he pumped his finger into me, the squelching sound of my wetness drawing forth a blush in my cheeks.

"I'd take my time with you," Eric whispered, capturing my lips in a short kiss before continuing; "But we don't have a lot of time. Forgive me if we make this quick."

I could barely nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt his thumb back against my clit, his middle finger curling inside of me. It was obvious that he had done this before. 

My mind was already mush by the time Eric slid his finger out of me, turning me around and peppering my shoulder with wet kisses. It didn't take long before he leaned down to tug my pants down to my knees, fingers eager. I wasn't sure how to explain the burning need that was currently clawing at me, but I knew it was all-consuming. Eric had consumed me-- I knew I was his and only his.

So when I felt his big, strong hands grip my hips, pushing me towards him to allow for an easier entrance, I could only moan out in complete and utter satisfaction as I felt his cock sink into me. Eric let out a breathy grunt, now snaking both hands around my body, burying himself to the hilt with the slowest stroke known to man. "Fuck," was all he managed to say, hissing slightly against my shoulder before sucking down on a spot, wanting to leave behind a mark.

I couldn't believe the strange places my mind went to-- why was I contemplating getting that hickey tattooed? I wouldn't need it anyway, if Eric kept his promise and stayed with me after we both got out. There was nothing I wanted more in the whole wide world.

All my concerns flew out the window as Eric gripped my waist for leverage as he continued to thrust into me, leaving me with my mouth open against the wall. My body was aching with pleasure unmatched anything I had ever felt before, and I knew that the difference between this time and all my other escapades was how much I had craved Eric-- and how much I knew he craved me.

My breath hitched as he nipped at my jaw, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. "Wanted this... so, so long..." Eric let out a grunt as his hands went down to my hips again, pulling away from my neck to watch his cock pump into my dripping core. I was quite sure it was glistening with my slick by the sounds of it. "Wanted this-- Wanted you."

"Me too," I cried, resting my hands against the wall, meeting his thrusts. "Every night, all the time..."

"All the time," he echoed. "Forever."

My breath hitched at both his words and the way one of his hands left my hip, ghosting over my stomach. I knew exactly where it was heading, and I had to bite back a rather loud moan as Eric dipped his hand down between my legs. Eric spread his fingers, covering my whole cunt, feeling the sides of his own cock rut into me. It didn't take long before his whole hand was practically covered in my slick, and I was quite sure I heard a drop hit the floor. Everything about it made me shiver.

Like this, I was practically pushed to rut against the palm of his hand, the pressure against my clit making me gasp-- I knew I wouldn't last long like this. Perfect.

By the sounds of it, Eric wouldn't either. He let a breathy moan escape his lips before he let go of my hips, reaching up to grab my chin, tilting it to the side so that he could kiss me. I let out a soft cry against his lips, feeling my walls clamp down around his thick cock. Feeling beyond full, I reached around to grab his dark hair, feeling his locks between my fingers as a familiar tightening in my stomach appeared. 

"You're the only one I've ever wanted this badly," Eric murmured against my lips, his thrusts becoming rushed and erratic, clearly holding back his high. "Be mine-- Fuck, be mine?"

If I hadn't been this close to my high, I would've cried. "All yours, Eric, all yours... A-Aah!--" My walls clamped around him as I was driven against the palm of his hand once more, driving me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before.

Eric took this as a green light-- It didn't take long before he let out a grunt against my shoulder, gently biting down as ropes of cum decorated my walls, his thick cock twitching with its release inside of me. 

Our pants filled the stairway, and I was quite sure my legs would give out as he pulled out of me with a wet pop, tucking himself back into his trousers. I could only smile, leaning against the wall as I let out a sigh of relief. I was so incredibly glad we managed to do all of this before getting caught-- I was sure I wouldn't have been able to wait until we were both out. The burning in my body subsided, the ache turning into an all-consuming feeling of joy. 

I turned to Eric with a soft smile spread across my lips, trying to steady my breathing. He was especially beautiful now-- kiss-swollen lips really suited him. 

He returned my smile, leaning forward to capture my lips in a soft, gentle kiss. My hands reached out for him, cupping his face as my thumbs caressed his cheeks. It was such an exhilarating feeling to be adored like this, and I wasn't sure I would ever experience it until now. Meeting Eric felt like seeing a lunar rainbow-- exceptionally rare.

However, Eric's sweet smile suddenly turned back into his usual mischievous smirk. Before I could even say a word, he had dropped down to his knees, leaning forward to wrap his lips around my aching sex, covering my whole mound as he sucked at me.

I could barely breathe as I realized what he was doing-- was he sucking his own cum out of me? This was new. And weirdly pleasurable. I let out a wanton moan, gripping his hair in the exact same way I did in Eric's drawing. I could only whimper as his tongue darted out, drawing a circle around my overstimulated clit-- instinctively, my hips bucked against his mouth. Something about this felt weirdly full-circle. "Eric, wait!-- Shit,"

He hummed, looking up at me with those green eyes I loved so much. "Will you kill me if I draw this?"

I could only sigh-- bliss. 

(a/n: PART 1, PART 3 linked here!! enjoy<33)

[twistedbloodstain]

I have two ideas for the marquis de framing that I think you’d do great writing!

1: where the reader is interrogating the marquis (meaning she kidnapped him) and through there, they start to get feelings for each other

2: reader (who had a relationship of some sort with the marquis) fakes their death because they couldn’t take the assassin world. The marquis is devastated (lots of angst hehehe). They meet again while the reader is trying to help someone (maybe John, lol)

3: reader who is part of the high table meets the marquis for the first time. Sorta like live at first sight.

vincent de gramont x reader: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

plot: the one where he finds you again.

warnings: the reader’s a medic/healer in here SORRYYY…, she knew john from before, he rats her out lolz, kidnapping except vincent doesn’t do it this time..(yay! cuz he forced someone else to do it!!!), anon im so sorry i focused too hard on one part, i will do an extra (i swear)

masterlist

“stay still.” you mumble.

mr. wick lets out a small grunt while you sew his wound back together, nothing too fatal (at least in his standards) but without the help of any anesthesia or alcohol to soothe the pain, the assassin had no choice but to follow.

“don’t worry, it's almost done.” you whisper almost finished with patching up the flesh on his back. “and..there..”

he immediately gets off his seat and reaches for his shirt stationed on a random desk scattered with medical supplies. he digs into his suit jacket and fishes out a coin and hands it over to you, you accept it eagerly and begin cleaning up.

“you need any help with transport?” you inquire while you discard your bloodied gloves and utensils.

“yeah.”

“on your way out turn left and find the guy with a gray jacket. he’s one of winston’s men, he’ll help you out. where are you headed?” you inquire while washing your hands. he hesitantly answers before offering a reply.

“paris.”

“oh.” you stop in your movements and look at him. he stands near the door way all dressed up with blood caking his temples, he still looks rugged and in no shape to do what he has to do in pairs but your opinion likely doesn’t matter to him.

“good luck, i guess.” you mutter.

“you’ve been there.” he says.

“i..have.” you hope he doesn’t press any further.

“what’s in paris?” he questions but doesn’t take a step further.

“for you?” you uneasily say, he doesn’t reply.

“a dangerous man. i..think you’ll die trying just to get what you want, mr. wick. but hey, who knows? maybe, it’s now him.” you explain.

“the guy who had the continental demolished, was it him?” he sternly asks.

“..yes, i think it was him.” you confess, avoiding his eyes.

it had been almost three years since you left that country.

three years since you left him.

you can’t even bear to say his name because if you do, all of it will spill out. how he met you, how kept you and how he loved you. 

he nods, “and for you?”

“an even more dangerous man.”

 ever since mr. wick entered and left your clinic. you've been in a constant state of anxiety. the mere thought and mention of him had you nervous, especially when you heard that he was in new york a few days ago. you thought it was all over, that he found you and was going to rip you from your freedom in this city.

the following news shocked you to your core, the new york continental being demolished was not in your bingo card as to why he’d be here. all because of an excommunicated assassin which you had tended to almost a day after the bombing.

although you’re horrified with the state of events, relief flooded you when you realized he wasn’t there for you. you’d still be safe from him.

but you can’t help but think what all of this means for him. at some point, you know that john wick will kill him, and you somehow played a part in it. you feel a tinge of regret for him but it’s quickly overshadowed with the horrors he’s done and you don’t feel as bad.

he did like you though, when you still worked at france for him as his estate medic. whenever he found himself wounded in the line of fire in an ambush attack, you were the one who tended to his wounds and saw him at his weakest. you don’t know why but a strong sense of trust was established between the two of you.

you thought it to be a friendship but fleeting glances of affection would seep through when you talked or when a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in your clinic after patching him up. 

you toyed with a pin he gave you, his insignia. only he wore it proudly on his coat and truly, it warmed you to him. he did make you feel appreciated, small touches on your back and sometimes fiddling with your hands whenever you sewed his wounds, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

with you he was just…vincent.

soft words and touches with soulful eyes looking into yours, just gentleness and affection present in him. it made you indulge into it too, that he isn’t the cruel man people made him out to be. he isn’t heartless, that’s just how the world is.

a naive perspective.

a perspective that was easily shattered when you’d hear a bloodcurdling scream from the barn, and he walks out with blood on his hands and a disgusted look on his face from his clothes being stained. gunshots echoing beneath the servant’s staircases and thudding bodies being dragged into the secluded forests of the estate. you whisper to yourself those very same words even if all his actions sent chills on your spine.

but the truth of it is that, he is heartless. he is the man people made him out to be and you’re a fool thinking he could be better for you but at the end of the day, he is still the marquis.

it made you think. what if this is all a game to him? what if the moment he finds you uninteresting you become another stain on his suit? 

it’s not a secret that men like him love having delicate pretty things only to break them apart. that’s all you are his current delicate and pretty thing.

you decided to leave. you weren’t staying long enough to find out what would happen to you, feelings be damned when you’re easily replacable to him. you knew that the marquis was like a dog to a bone when he didn’t get the things he wanted, which only pooled fears into your stomach should he find you in new york.

he cannot have you.

you stare at the pin before chucking the pin somewhere in the room, you get up from your chair and begin closing the windows from your clinic.

a knock comes from the door, you chuck the remaining medical materials into a random desk and walk up to the door. wounded assassins aren’t a strange occurrence at this time of the evening but something…felt different.

your gut was telling you to ignore the person on the other side and stay still. you thought that maybe if you didn’t answer the person would go away. wanting to play things safe you don’t mutter a word that would alert them of your presence. it usually worked in some cases.

the knocking persists, much harder and louder now. your hands begins to shake and your eyes start looking around for an emergency firearm to help defend yourself, your actions frantically halt when you hear a voice through the door.

“doc?” a gruff voice asks.

you sight and put a hand on your chest. it’s just john wick. you eagerly open the door to let him in.

“john.” you greet, “come inside.” you invite him as you walk inside.

john doesn’t follow you and a confused expression takes your face, until you take a good look at him. for the first time, john wick doesn’t look wounded to you, his face and hands void of any blood, a new bulletproof suit adorning his body, a french one you notice but it still leaves you questioning things.

“i’m assuming france went successful.” you say.

“…it’s close.” he pauses before replying, seeming as if he’s finding the right words to say.

“what do you need?” you question.

“it’s winston. he’s been shot.” you freeze.

oh dear. you never really approved of the things he did but a soft spot was always present for him and charon. they helped you settle here in new york, but winston took you in even when he knew of your history with vincent. you swore to always help him in ways you could and now the opportunity presented itself.

the car sped down the street with you and john in tow. you hold your medical kit close to your lap, feeling uneasy with the thought of losing the old man. charon had been so recent and you don’t think you bear to lose the friends you’ve made along the way.

you glance at john and he looks calm and composed as usual, eerily so. a week earlier he was calm but you could feel his anger and determination simmering underneath his skin. now it looked like he was taking a walk in a park. you eye him carefully, uneasiness seeping in your stomach.

“did they give it to you?” you ask, he looks at you before clearing his throat.

“just an extension.” he answers, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“to do what?” you ask again, john doesn’t budge and continues driving, ignoring your question. your eyes stay on him but he doesn’t look at you.

silence settles into the car and you lean back in your seat. you really wish your brought your gun with you right now. you don’t know why but you have a feeling that something is wrong right now, especially with john. he’s not telling you something.

or maybe it really is none of your business. perhaps he wanted to spare the bloody details of how he’s going to win his freedom back. you relax and try to forget the uneasiness, trying to remember that winston is the priority right now, you shut your eyes. all of your fears are gathering together and it’s making you overthink your interaction with john, everything’s okay.

the loud sound of drilling makes you open your eyes, you look at the window and you see a familiar street. 

the new york continental was being rebuilt.

your apprehensiveness returns.

“john?” you look at him once again, “who shot winston?”

“he got hit during the line of fire.” this time he replies.

bullshit. winston would have an emergency plan before the shooting started.

“in new york?” you press.

“yeah.”

another bullshit. you could see through his lies, he’s clearly fresh out of france. what was he trying to do? 

“j-john.” you voice shakes almost as if you’re begging. something happened in france, something that saved both winston and john.

he looks at you with regret in his eyes. not enough to save you for what’s about to come.

“where are you taking me?” you sputter, your heart beating fast in anxiety, “i’ve done nothing but help you, please don’t do this!”

“he took winston with him and he found out.” he quietly defends.

“please help me, i don’t want to go back!” you begin crying, tears rolling down your face, “he’ll kill me!” 

he makes no reply and continues driving. with no hope left with him, you try to open your side of the door. he immediately notices this and grabs your arm trying to stop you from leaving, you begin hitting him with your other arm.

you know that he doesn’t want to do this but it feels so unfair. you’ve saved his life only to throw yours away.

“let go of me!” you scream.

“i’m sorry.” 

you feel a prick in your neck.

you feel a heavy sensation pulling at your leg, your eyes feeling groggy still wanting to keep your lids closed. however the sensation persists and this forces you to open your eyes and sit up.

a dark room welcomes you, only a small lamp helping you take a small look of where you are. specifically, on a plush bed and a decorated room. your body feels heavy  from exhaustion which makes you lean back to the pillow behind you.

pondering what made you feel so tired when you haven’t done much for the night, you���ve sewn back together…a pair of assassins for the night? or was it three? two austrians and…who?a french? no…no..it was winston. 

that’s right.

wait.

only you didn’t treat winston.

you bolt up, your body seemingly sobers from the realization.

john brought you here in exchange for his freedom. 

you look around to see some sort of presence in the room but with the darkness it was hard to tell, nevertheless you hopped off the bed and bolted to the wooden door nearby. no wonder the place looked familiar, only the marquis would have a place as frivolous as this.

you need to leave right now. your hand reaches for the door until you find your body being slammed on the floor. a groan leaves your throat, in pain you massage your forehead and look around.

oh goodness.

a gasp leaves your mouth when you see a chain wrapped around your ankle, you inspect your foot before tracing the lines of chains, which were sourced on the thick foot of the bed you were on.

you tug it to check its strength and to see how long it actually goes. it was long enough to walk around the room but not long enough to reach the door. this is basically your fully furnished torture chamber. 

fuck. fuck. fuck.

a loud creak echoes through the room.

you really hate how things are right now.

he’s going to kill you. kill you for leaving him, how you easily made him look humiliated for being abandoned.

feeling your knees weaken you sit back on the bed and your hands shake in trepidation. the marquis’ simple presence made you scared of him, you felt tears falling down once again and you lowered your head, not wanting to look weak right now.

his footsteps are heard through the room, the door loudly closes shut, a thud echoing. he doesn’t say a word.

you feel everything leave your body. hope,freedom and life mostly.

he walks up to you until you see his shoes on the floor, a blurry sight entering your eyes due to the tears, he touches you, tilting your chin upwards and you do everything not to flinch. was he going to snap your neck?

you look at him and he still looks the same, slightly more mature.

but the same man you met a few years ago, if you jumped back into your rose tinted glasses, you’d probably see the vincent you cherished at some point if you weren’t so frightened right now.

he inspects you, his eyes wandering through your face. searching for something that’s supposed to be there, his lips part almost as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” apologies spill out of your lips, wanting to take the chance of saving yourself, “i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to.” you cry. your hand reaches up to his hand that held your chin and you grip it for mercy, his hold on you weakens.

he doesn’t say anything and leans forward to you. you need him to say something, anything, whether it meant he’d simply say he wants yuu dead.

“please forgive me, just please don’t kil-“ he cuts you off.

with a kiss.

not a firm one but a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips.

he takes your hands into his and fiddles with it, trying to find his place in them just like before, he halts the kiss and leans towards your face. the man right in front of you wasn’t the marquis, it was vincent. 

your vincent.

the one with soft eyes looking at you with relief and adoration. the gaze that looked at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, he wipes the tears on your cheeks and the next thing he says dissolves all sense of worry out of you.

“i could never hurt you.” he whispers.

author’s note: this kinda doesn’t make sense bc im so braindead rn to expand things but basically vincent finds medic!reader through winston and in exchange for the continental and john’s freedom, john brings medic!reader back to vincent. so basically she got ratted out lolz. this would work better if i made a vincent pov would be fun but i have a bunch of prompts to work on…(tempting) + he literally chained her down to him (hshshsh marriage allegory…) i kinda want to be funky dynamic of obsessed man + “ngl what’s wrong with this guy but i vibe with it” woman

[melodymunson]

Get to know me

My name is Melody. I'm 33. I've been a Stranger Things since early 2017 and an Eddie Munson stan since May 2022. Writing requests for Steddie x reader, Steve x reader, Eddie x reader, Steve x Robin x reader are open! (Platonic Robin and Steve only.)

My former tumblr username was MelodyLangdon

About me: I’m a passionate concert-goer, a horror convention junkie, and a Halloween lover.

My favorite series are SAW, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, American Horror Story, Scream, Nightmare on Elm Street, Paradise City, South Of Nowhere, Rob Zombie’s Firefly family trilogy, and Hemlock Grove. I love thrillers and horror books and my favorite authors are Richard Laymon, Jack Ketchum, Megan Hart, Anne Rice, JRR Tolkien. My top favorite bands of all time are Type O’ Negative, Bullet For My Valentine, Otep, Manson, Rammstein, Motionless In White, Ice Nine Kills, Arch Enemy, Kittie, David Bowie, Motley Crue, Poison, Butcher Babies, Children Of Bodom, Apocalyptica, Raven Black, Straight Line Stitch, Depeche Mode, The Cure, and Ghost. Metal, punk rock, nu metal, thrash metal are my favorite music genres. The Soska Twins, Eli Roth, and Mary Harron are my favorite directors. My top favorite movies are American Mary, American Psycho, American Satan, 10 Things I Hate About You, Girl Next Door, Strangeland, Mistress Of The Dark. The coolest celebs I’ve met are Twiggy Ramirez, Tobin Bell, Manson, Otep, MIW, Butcher Babies, Elvira, Bill Moseley, Sid Haig, and Felissa Rose. My favorite actors are Keanu Reeves, Joseph Quinn, Joe Keery, Heath Ledger, Cody Fern, Bill Skarsgard, River Phoenix, Blake Lively, Megan Fox, Susan Sarandon, Amber Tamblyn, and Margot Robbie. 

I follow back any active Stranger Things blog/fan who interacts with me and is 18+. Ask box/inbox open to questions/asks. Minors, creeps, bots, and anyone who’s intolerant towards women, any racists, any anti- POC/WOC and anyone exclusive of any part of the LGBTQIA+ will be blocked no exceptions. Intolerant of intolerance and my blog is a safe space.

My favorite Stranger Things characters are Eddie Munson (obviously). Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, 001/Henry Creel/Vecna, Joyce Meyers, Dustin Henderson, and Argyle.

Favorite ships and couples of ST: Steddie, Chrissy/Eddie, and  Nancy/Eddie/Steve/Robin (the fruity four).

I write and take requests for Chrissy/Eddie/reader, Chrissy/Eddie, Eddie/reader, Steddie/reader, Steve/reader, Robin/reader/Steve (platonic Steve+Robin ONLY), Chrissy/reader, and Eddie/reader/Corroded Coffin groupie.

Works in progress/completed: My first Eddie/reader fic was rockstar Eddie x reader headcanons. I have also published 2 Steddie/reader holiday fics on ao3, an Eddie/Chrissy/reader oneshot, Stobin/fem!reader, and a cheerleader reader/Eddie 3 part series. My ao3 username is MelodyLangdon. My next fics to be published will be an Eddie/reader/Corroded Coffin groupie. Rockstar Eddie/fem reader fic series in progress.

18+ only and preferably 21+ following me/interacting + reading my fics. No exceptions.

My newest fics: 

Steve/fem!reader/Robin https://archiveofourown.org/works/47570095

Older rockstar Eddie x younger fem!reader https://archiveofourown.org/works/47570314/chapters/119891428

My profiles/socials: https://bento.me/melodymunsonharrington

Masterlist: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2020/03/fanfics-masterlist.html

Moodboards: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2023/03/moodboards-for-stranger-things-fics.html

More moodboards: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2023/03/cody-fern-character-moodboards-for-fics.html

[thefudge]

Hi! I was wondering if you've seen the movie Barbarian the came out like last year? I love the way they use Bill Skarsgard in that movie to trick the audience (trying not to spoil if you haven't it) but i think there's some great potential story ideas to play with if they had taken in the other direction. (basically Bill Skarsgard is both sexy and scary, if i new how to insert a gif into an Ask i would do so here)

ohhh yeah, i know what you mean about bill skarsgard's potential. i did watch barbarian a couple of months ago and ummm, i didn't love it, but it was interesting. i was disappointed about the sparse use of skarsgard. i definitely agree that i would've loved a version where he's more of a sexy creep. i need to cast him in one of my original oneshots.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Don’t Do This | Roman Godfrey

There was a lust inside of the Godfrey heir, not only for sex, but for power, to have somebody’s blood running from his perfect lips, tainting whatever expensive shirt that he was adorned in.

It was a mutual agreement, to have him contact strange men that allowed leeches to hang carelessly off of their old and corrupt bodies, it was no surprise that the odd diet was no longer satisfying him.

The realisation was always there, closeted in the back of your mind, however you refused to let it out. There was no other option than to believe in him, if you didn’t then who would?

Peter was gone, he ran with the wind when Letha had been confirmed as dead. Now it was just you and your up stuck friend Roman, fighting for his will and whatever else came your way, such as his rights to his inheritance.

That didn’t change him much, but his best friend leaving had. The young man became somewhat colder, refusing to wrap his long and clinging arms around your exposed frame once you chose to spend the night every now and then.

It was some kind of distraction for the both of you, and god knew that the green eyed monster was in dire need of it. The entanglement of your bodies was nothing more than a nightly escapade, one to clear minds and keep hearts remaining locked. However it wasn’t exactly so simple for you.

Oh no, it was far more complicated than that. There was love and hate, both casting opinions about your upir bed mate and business partner, conflicting the matters of your heart and mind. If someone were here, whether it be Peter or Letha, they could help you solve these flooding emotions.

There was no denying that you didn’t want to feel any of them, but they always returned each time that you saw the giant. Even now, as he stood before you, a recognisable tint of red upon his pout.

“You broke the deal.” You stated, choosing not to grow angry. If his inner beast was hungry, it didn’t matter if he cared for you, the monster wouldn’t consider that factor. It would rather sink its launching teeth into a vein that have a tame conversation. “Who was it?”

His head tilted to behind the island of the kitchen, his thumb coming up to wipe the leftovers from his mouth. “Some delivery guy, funnily enough, he had a letter for you.”

He plucked the paper that had blood stained fingerprints over it, picking out the contents and opening them, cleaning his throat before he began to read the letter aloud.

The thought had you squirming, there were many things that you kept from Roman, whatever this was being one of them.

“Dearest Miss (Y/N),” he began, the introduction already having you on edge. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as it wasn’t anything from Peter, if Roman found out that you were in cahoots with him, well, you weren’t entirely sure how that scenario would end.

“I am writing to you, to give you the information that your blood has the ability to keep Mr Godfrey alive. Seeing as you queried on the behalf of this, I can also see it possible for you to be a supplementary food source, however the idea will need to be tested first, in a practical sense, from Yohan.”

Nodding your head at the contents of the letter, your action only seemed to infuriate Roman thus more. He bit his lip, trying to refrain from speaking his mind, but it was well known in his bloodline that it was hardly manageable.

“Look, I can explain...” it was a gesture of good will, offering answers to someone that sought them, but still, even as you had tried to diffuse the tension, it only seemed to thicken it.

“Explain what?” He barked rather harshly, coming to stand before you as he peered below, his envious pools boaring into your human soul. “Explain that you were willing to let Pryce play doctor, just so I could, unknowingly may I add, drink your tested blood?”

As his words hit home, he raked his hands through his locks, tugging on them, trying to relieve some of the stress. Sex wouldn’t cut it this time, that was a one way ticket to distraction, and he by no means wanted to disregard this matter at hand.

Your lip quivered as he spat words, Roman wasn’t scaring you. He was making you realise how inconsiderate you had been by not consulting him in this ploy. But even if you had, there was nothing to say that he would react any better.

“I’m going to kill him.” Roman stated, air seething through his clenching teeth as his hands formed infuriated fists. “I’m going to have Pryce’s fucking scientist head for this shit!”

“Don’t.” It was a plain argument, that did nothing for demotivating him on his planned hunt. “It was my fault, it was my idea.”

“He agreed to your stupid fucking idea though!” He yelled, grabbing his keys as he was intent on reaching the door, that was until your hand grasped his elbow, tugging him back with the effort of all of your weight. “Let me go.”

It was an order. It was a command, and at that your grip loosened, allowing him to skulk off, and you’d have to wait until tomorrow to know whether or not Pryce had survived.

[hecohansen31]

Hello! I don't know if you are taking requests but, if you are, could you maybe do some fluffy stuff about Bill calming someone from a anxiety attack?Just making them feel that everything it's ok and that she's not alone... I'm having a pretty bad day and I didn't started my treatment yet, so everything it's just so... loud and scary, you know? But if you're not it's ok, really. I also wanted to say that I love your work and that these stories really help go through most of my days. Take care

(A/N): Hey sweetie!

I just wanted to say that I am tremendously sad to hear that you had an anxiety attack and I hope that you are feeling slightly better or will soon and that your treatment will work out for you!

Just take a deep breath (although I know that it is difficult to say this) and just enjoy a bit of this reading!

I also wnated to apologize in advance if this sucks, I am not very good at writing for real people, since I am a bit uneasy about it, but I hope that you’ll like what I wrote, I honestly have to say that I tear up when you said that you love my work and that these stories help you go through you days, because if there is something that I want to do with these silly stories is helping you lovelies!

So I hope for the best and have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Anxiety, Anxiety Attack, Awkwardness (also the first part is basically something that my therapist taught me to relax which is couting the parts of your body which touch, which is very helpful for me).

One, your lids.

Two, your lips.

Three, your��

A sob escaped your lips making them part immediately as you moved forward.

Your lungs on fire from the long tiring session you had been having, unable to properly breath as you felt the choking sound of your throat gasping for air.

And for a moment, you thought you couldn’t have made it.

For a moment everything closed around you and your arms moved around you to shield you properly from the reality crashing down onto you.

It had been all too much: the small change in the program, the acid comment of your boss and Bill’s text about how he’d be stuck on set for another week, after he had already been gone for three months to film his newest project.

And you had been left without a slight sniff of your tall boyfriend, with his gentle hands.

He had never witnessed an anxiety attack of yours, because as cheesy as it was you were always calmer with Bill.

It had always been this way, since he had first noticed how uncomfortable you looked in that small party your friend had dragged you to.

Everybody would have been glad that they had been invited to an Hollywoodian party, but you were just worried of dropping your glass of expensive champagne against somebody.

You had stood in your angle and suddenly this handsome man was in front of you, something similar in his eyes and you swore you had seen him somewhere… you just couldn’t remember when or where.

… and then all your knowledge of the net had made you realize that in front of you there was Bill Skarsgard and obviously your first reaction had been.

“… wait you are Bill Skarsgard!” because it was obviously the best thing to shout at a celebrity, even more to one as private as him, but he had simply replied gently.

‘Ah yeah that’s me’ he had seemed at unease and a myriad of thoughts had gone through your head, each one wanting to make you run away, but he had gently offered you an hand ‘… well since you already know my name, why don’t you tell me yours?’.

You had hesitated, more out of surprise than uneasy with the beautiful man, who had simply blushed and shaken his head as he had mumbled.

‘Gosh that was… moronic of me… I shouldn’t… Alex says that they work, but …’.

‘I am (Y/N)… (Y/N) (L/N)…’ you had shot back, breathing out your answer as you stumbled through the world, holding out your hand to grip his, as his face immediately went from nervousness to shock to a sweeter smile ‘… I am just surprised that a god like you wants to speak with a mere mortal like me’.

And then you had just felt awful, but he had just laughed it off embarrassed.

‘I actually think that you are the prettiest girl in the room, so…’.

And then you had blushed softly, biting your lips as Bill led you away from the crowd on the small front porch of the house, as you sat there, talking about how awkward you both felt at this kind of things.

‘… I don’t want to make you feel bad, but I was worried you’d crush the glass in your hands…’ he had joked as you blushed, softly punching him on the shoulder, your glass now empty, helping you with a bit of liquid courage.

‘You literally used the worst pick-up line after “did it hurt when you fell from heaven”?’ you had shot back and his cheeks had also turned a pinkish shade, as you both avoided each other’s eyes, too shy to confront the other.

For a kiss you had needed a bit more of wine, but it had been worth it.

And every moment with him had been worth it.

But three months without him were already too much, although you saw him through the skype calls.

But it wasn’t simply enough.

It wasn’t enough anymore when you had just the shittiest day and everything felt like it was too much to handle for you.

Your mind rushed through the most horrible thoughts as you tried to think what Bill would say to you.

His deep voice always helping you, even more when he did that cute giggle he owned, scrunching his nose in a way that was so so adorable that you had just promised to yourself to kiss it every time it happened.

But then a shocking thought hit you.

He’d think that you were a mess if he saw you like this.

Make-up all ruined form your tears and sweat and each time you had mindlessly touched your eyes to dry the tears and rub them, meanwhile your light lipstick was smashed all over your cheeks, since as soon as you had seen a reflection of yourself you had hated the color and wanted desperately to delete it.

He wouldn’t have stayed if he had seen you like that.

Maybe it was for the better that he wouldn’t be…

“Sweetheart, I am home!”.

For a moment you had thought that your brain had finally moved its endorphins and it was starting to work to distract you from the horrible feeling of tightness in your chest.

And then you heard the door closing.

And understood that Bill was for sure at home.

You shifted closer to yourself almost wanting to hide as you moved closer to the part under the sink, thinking that if you focused enough, you’d match the bathroom floor tiles.

Enough to hide yourself from Bill.

“Sweetheart?” he seemed almost sad that you didn’t answer him, and as a loud breath escaped your mouth, you slapped an hand over your mouth, as you tried to understand if it was all an hallucination or Bill had come home, before.

You didn’t know which one would have been worse.

“… shit maybe I should have told her…she hates surprises” your heart couldn’t help but awake at his serious concern for you “… maybe she is over at Christine’s”.

You hoped desperately that he’d just convince himself of it and maybe go away, because if there was one thing you were sure, hallucination or not, was that you wouldn’t have let him see you like that.

He’d have broken up with you, for sure.

“… I’ll call her” and before you could rush in to switch off your phone, the awful first notes of ‘Daylight’ by Taylor Swift started playing.

This brought you back when Bill had mocked your music tastes and you had pretended to be hurt, but you hadn’t cared in the slightest, singing offkey as he kept on preparing your dinner, and although he wouldn’t admit it, you had heard him sing the first few lines as he was getting ready for bed.

“… babe?” he asked, curiously and again a sob left your mouth, revealing further where you were, and as fast as you could you tried your best to hide yourself turning around a you tried to reach for your phone “…hey, lovely, is anything wrong?”.

Thankfully he hadn’t opened the doors, and gently knocked scaring you as you tried to calm your heavy breathing in order for you to appear as normal as you could with ruined make-up and a face that seemed the same someone would have after their pet died.

“… ahem I was just…” ‘please don’t say anything stupid’ “… pooping”.

“Oh” you could already picture Bill’s blushing face “… sorry sorry, sweetie, I’ll wait for you in the dining room, ok?”.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” you asked as you slowly got up, knowing that confrontation wasn’t avoidable and trying to make up whether hat awful voice that told you that Bill had just come back to you to break up was true or not “… aren’t you supposed to be filming the new movie?”.

“Ahem… yeah and no” his voice always wavered as it always did when he told you an half-truth “… we wrapped up a few days ago, but I wanted to make you a surprise, because today is our anniversary”.

Shit of a fucking shit.

You weren’t worried for the gift.

You had had that ready for a month.

Sometime anxiety had its perks.

But what worried you was the fact that you had literally looked at the day and hadn’t remembered it was your anniversary.

It was also the deadline of your project, which your boss had partially rejected.

The part that you had worked on desperately and almost on your own, which had resulted in the product being a bit imprecise but… it hadn’t seemed so bad.

You couldn’t help but hate the fact that you had been so stressed to have forgotten about it all.

“… sweetie, are you still there?” asked Bill from the other side “…or did the toilet seat swallow you?”

“Ahem no” although you felt that awful feeling of dreadful tightness in your lungs, you still let out a soft laugh “… I just… I don’t think that we should go out, you must be jetlagged…”.

“Actually, I got a bit of sleep on the plain… so… I am ready to dance all night” he mumbled softly, as he shifted closer to the door and you couldn’t help but be almost worried that he’d open it, but he stopped “… but if you aren’t feeling well… we could stay inside, order Greek food and watch whatever awful Netflix comedy you chose”.

He was trying to make you relax, he always used that deep soothing tone and tried his best to make you laugh.

‘You always look prettier when you laugh’ he smirked as he stole a kiss from your cheerful lips ‘…you also taste sweeter’.

“Yeah, I’d like that…” you commented softly “… work has just been crazy hectic and I just… ugh… don’t think that I could celebrate properly, but… we could go out tomorrow I swear that I’ll make it up to you”.

“Of course, sweetie” his tone was so soothing that it only made you feel guilty for having forgotten about it all.

If he broke up with you, you low key deserved it.

“… do you want to talk about work?”.

‘No, I want to set my boss on fire’ you would have wanted to mumble, but simply uttered:

“… wouldn’t want to annoy you, sweetie, you probably already had a hard…”.

“I have had a hard time not having you with me” he gently replied “… I don’t think that anything would be hard enough for me, if you stand by my side”.

A moment of silence made him waver and you felt him pushing himself back, doubting whether he had done the right thing or not.

“… if you feel like talking obviously”.

“The project…” you choked out “… it didn’t go well”.

“Oh sweetie” he almost seemed ready to rush in through the door, but he stopped himself, realizing that you needed this barrier, for a bit more “… you worked so hard for it”.

“Yeah… but Tara said that it had too much imprecisions, and I mean she is right… I should have worked on it a bit more! Gosh I just…”.

And then you were stopped as Bill pushed the door open, revealing your disheveled appearance and you immediately tried to hide yourself, but it was of no use, as Bill went through any resistance you had cradling you in his strong arms, raising you as if you weighted nothing more than a flower.

Touch usually made it all worst for you, but with Bill it felt like some kind of desperately nice sweater, the one that you wore on the rainy days as you cuddled a good book and a cup of hot cocoa.

It soothed you and made you cry even more, as you let all your tension ease through him, and he cuddled you closer gently adjusting you onto the counter of the sink.

He kissed your forehead tenderly releasing your hold onto him, as you instead brought him closer, needing to feel him.

In an almost desperate way.

He was such a grounding force to you right now that you just let yourself reveal to him your deepest side, the one that turned away everyone.

Except him.

He just cooed at you softly, as he kept you in his arms, pushing aside a few strands of drenched hair, as he kissed your neck, softly, a gentle touch.

“… whatever it is, you are not at work anymore, you are in our lovely home, the one that smells of those overpriced shit candles you like so so much” it made you snort a laugh “… you are safe, you don’t have to think about it”.

“The fact is…” and you could already picture his eyes having this shade of ‘what kind of psycho are you’ “… I can’t, I am just too anxious, and it makes me overthink everything”.

But instead Bill’s eyes scanned over your face before understanding settled in them.

“… you had an anxiety attack, didn’t you?”.

“I….” you breathed out all the air in your lungs “… how did you know?”.

“I have lived with you enough to know that you are a little anxious beastie” he commented softly “… you arrive always early, you always act so so stressed with deadlines, you panic badly if I leave you out to a party… I know that some things make you like that…”.

“And it doesn’t bother you?”.

“No” his breath was soft, and it hit your face in a way that warmed your cheeks “… I just… I just want to help you if I can”.

Everybody at this point always left you, no matter how much you promised to keep it under control or to change.

Nobody had ever asked to know how to make you feel better.

“Can… can you get my make-up remover…?” he stood a minute trying to internalize your phrase “… it is making my skin itch…”.

“Of course” and he turned, before sending you a quick look “…wait where is it?”.

And there it was your dorky boyfriend.

You just let out a laugh and told him where he could find it.

A few minutes and a Bill’s shirt later, you were indeed waiting for Greek food as you browsed through Netflix, and Bill joked about you rewatching ‘Hemlock Grove’.

‘… babe you can’t use your celebrity status to impress me, I have seen you in boxers with pigeons’.

‘Pigeons are cute’ he had mumbled as he had set beside you, pushing your head on his chest.

You had told him that his faint heartbeat was the perfect cure for your overworked body ‘… and I know that you are just nervous because you blush so so fucking much when Roman is on’.

‘… just because he is a dork’.

‘A sexy dork’.

‘Didn’t know you were a narcissist’.

And like that you quickly discarded your little banter in a more silent contemplation as you finally felt… at peace, calm, although you were mostly sweeping all your worry under your mug.

But with Bill you felt better, as he softly handled you, kissing you with the gentlest of touches, but not treating you as frail doll or looking at you like he was worried, he just had this natural nurturing way that made him so damnably sexy.

It made you bite your lips.

And it didn’t pass unobserved by him.

“… you, big cutie” he mumbled, a laughter making his chest raise softly “…stop being the most beautiful girl on Earth”.

As much as you loved silly Billy, you felt the need to set a few things straight.

“I am sorry for hiding it… all from you” you lowered your eyes, this time biting your lower lip for nervousness “… it is just…”.

“It’s ok” he spoke as if it was the most natural of things, as if you hadn’t just broken down as a mess in front of him “… I knew it… I mean I had my thoughts, but these are personal things, I wanted to wait for you to feel comfortable”:

“I didn’t want to hide it! It isn’t because I don’t trust you…”.

“I know” again that soothing tone, it made everything better, you swore it could cure world’s hunger “… I know that people didn’t make it easy for you, so I’ll make it as easy as I can”.

And with that he pulled you to look at him in the eyes, something that was difficult for you in that moment, overwhelmed by your senses.

But you pushed through, because you knew that whenever he needed to tell you something important, he needed to have your eyes in his, to make you know that he wasn’t lying to you.

“… when you need me, I don’t care if I am busy with shooting a movie or in the bathroom, pooping…” you smirked lightly “… you come to me and tell me what is happening and when you feel a bit better we can discuss what helps you and what I can do…”.

“Bill… I am sorry but I don’t want to bother you…”.

That was the wrong thing to say, because although Bill didn’t attack you, he stiffened lightly and grabbed your hands gently, turning them and bringing one and then the other to kiss your inner wrists.

“… you, little one, are never ever a bother” he spoke each word dauntingly meaningful “… you are the most precious things I have ever had in my life, anxiety included”.

“We are kind of package deal” you mumbled an awkward smile on your face.

“Then I got lucky, two for one” he joked, and you finally let out a soft laugh, punching him on his shoulder.

“You are a fucking idiot, my friend”.

“Don’t hit me, it’ll cost you, I am a miracle of nature”.

“Whatever you say Pennywise, the dancing clown”.

“Oh, don’t get me started”.

And as the tickling war started, the glimmering ring in Bill’s jacket just waited the right time.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow would have been a better day.

[random-imagines-blog]

Losing Touch (Bill Skarsgard x Reader)

Requested by: @skarsgardandredmayne​ Wordcount: 2228 Summary: You and your boyfriend Bill both attend Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, though he starts to act weird at your close relationship with the telepathic professor himself.

Being at a normal school was tough enough, but a school filled with mutants? There was no way to keep anything a secret, not with people who can turn invisible, telepaths, empaths, there was even one kid who could make you spill your secrets if he brushed past you. So when your boyfriend, Bill, started to act jealously towards you and your favorite professor, the whole school knew about it by the end of the school day. Word got around quickly about how Bill had dragged you to sit at the back of the classroom when Professor Xavier wheeled himself into the room, about to teach his lessons. And how he had hovered at the doorway when you had stopped to talk to him before leaving class. There was a definite look of unease on his face as he held your hand and marched with you to your next classroom, leaving you there with an annoyed expression as he stormed off, saying that ‘he needed some space for a couple of hours’ and disappeared outside.

“What’s going on with him?” Your best friend asked, leaning over as you sat beside her.

“He’s just being a stupid, insecure boy.” You said, taking your notebooks out and dropped them loudly onto your desk. His mood affected your mood - and it wasn’t just because of his powers. See, Bill had the ability to alter people’s emotions, and he still wasn’t quite in control of it. That’s how you knew that he was being jealous and insecure - because it had rubbed off on you. “As if he ever has anything to worry about it.”

“Right?” Your friend agreed with you. “When men realize that unfounded jealousy isn’t cute, well, that will be an amazing day.”

You nodded in agreement, and decided to give Bill not another thought until later tonight, after dinner. You would go to his room and explain to him that there was nothing to be upset about, and just hoped that he would believe you. Though plenty of people had told you it was the other way around, it was you who felt lucky to be with him. Losing him to something as petty and stupid as this was just heartbreaking. You straightened up your shoulders and half-listened to your professor, thinking about how you would do your best to resist his powers if he got angry with you, and stay calm no matter what.

-

When it was dinner time, and everyone was in the dining quarters eating what Professor McCoy had prepared for the evening, you stared blankly at your mac and cheese in thought. Bill was sitting at a different table, with his back to you, probably on purpose. The fact that he didn’t even give you a chance to explain anything hurt a lot more than his anger at this moment. There wasn’t even a confrontation - he was just angry.

‘Are you alright?’ You heard a familiar voice in your head. Even when he was communicating telepathically, Charles sounded posh and smooth. You heard him snort over at the staff table as you thought that. ‘I’m not posh.’ You rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see you. ‘Alright, alright. Why don’t you swing by my office after you eat? I have some of those little marshmallows you like to put in your cocoa.’

‘I’ll bring the mugs’ you thought, thinking that some time with Charles was exactly what you needed. He always gave the best advice, and you generally tended to listen to it.

An hour later, you had a mug of hot cocoa, complete with little colored marshmallows, keeping your hands warm as you stretched out on the sofa in Charles’s office. It was a relic from the old times, before he was shot. You used to love laying out on it when you used to come and visit. It was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to comfortably sit on it, with his arm around your shoulder, like the old days. Rather, he stayed in his wheelchair, parked by one of the armrests, his own cup of cocoa steaming away.

“So you haven’t told him that I’m your cousin yet,” He said, looking perplexed. “And he thinks that there’s something going on between us?”

“That’s what I’m getting from how he’s acting,” You said, taking a sip of your drink. “I mean, it’s never really come up in conversation. He’s talked about his brothers before, but we’ve never really gotten into the family conversation.”

“Then I suggest that you tell him as soon as possible.”

“You don’t think I should wait to see if he trusts me?” You asked, bringing up the other option that was on your mind. “I mean, yeah, you’re my cousin and we’re obviously not being inappropriate with each other. He has no reason to be jealous, even if you weren’t. I haven’t done anything.”

Charles rubbed his chin as he thought that over. “I think that if you want to make things right, you have to meet him halfway. Tell him. Then you can ask him about his jealousy problems.”

“Can’t you just get into his head and tell me what the right thing to say is?” You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. “What’s the use of having a telepath in the family if he can’t even help me with my relationship problems?”

“Hey, I’ve helped before,” Charles piped up. “Remember when I told you that the neighbor boy had a thing for you?”

“You didn’t have to read minds to see that, genius. He turned out to be a stalker. Even the police knew that he had a thing for me.”

“Well, I didn’t think that he would get that bad,” Charles scratched the back of his neck. You laughed, and waved it off. It was in the past, and your powers had come in handy to get rid of him. Besides - you had a boyfriend now who you really did adore, and really should go and see. You sighed and got to your feet.

“Any wise words before I go, oh great one?” You asked, setting your empty mug down on the table. You were too preoccupied to think about carrying it back to the kitchen this late.

“Just tell him the truth, and listen to him. He probably has a reason for feeling the way that he does - and it’s not you. Oh, and tell him that I want my star students to sit in the front of my class again, the back is for troublemakers, you know that.”

“I was hoping for something more along the lines of, ‘He’s craving licorice so bring him some and he’ll be happy’ but I guess what you said isn’t that bad too.” You stretched, walked over to your cousin and kissed the top of his head. “Wish me luck!”

“You’ll be fine,” Charles laughed, and you could hear him chuckling until you closed the door behind you. The halls weren’t busy, just a couple of students coming to and from the library. You walked past them over to the dormitories, and stopped in front of Bill’s. You raised your hand to knock on it, but paused, hearing a sound coming from within.

“British prat,” Bill’s voice said. “Oh, I’m Charles, I can read minds, I can steal girlfriends. Who does he think he is? Y/n is too good for him. Hell, even too good for me.”

You opened the door as silently as you could, and saw that he was pacing his small room, his back to you. He continued to mutter to himself as he walked towards his window. “He’s so lucky he’s in a chair or else-”

“Or else what?” You asked, crossing your arms and leaned against the doorway. He jumped slightly, his tall frame looking quite silly while doing so, and turned around to look at you. “Are you really talking about hurting Charles?”

“Charles,” Bill repeated, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “What makes him so special anyway?”

You rolled your eyes and walked further into the room, closing the door behind you and turned the lock. It was against the rules of course, but you figured the headmaster might understand this time and not get you into trouble. “Well, he is incredibly intelligent, gifted, talented and-”

“If you say handsome, I’m never talking to you again,” Bill warned, his eyes settled on yours.

“I wasn’t going to say handsome. I was going to say the best cousin that I could ever have asked for. Almost like a brother, really. Though I hear a lot of the girls fancy him. So maybe he is handsome, I wouldn’t know.”

“Your cousin?” Bill asked, sitting down on his bed, looking at you with disbelief. “Am I supposed to just believe that?”

“I could ask him if I could rummage through the attic to find some old pictures, but I’d hope that you would believe me. It would be nice to be trusted just a little.” You walked towards his bed and sat on the edge, then pulled up your legs to be cross-legged and facing him. “But proof aside, Bill, baby, why are you feeling jealous? Have I done anything to make you think that I would ever cheat on you?”

“Well, no-” He said, pulling a face. He was going to say more but you quickly interrupted.

“That’s what I thought. So this is a you issue and I want you to talk to me about it.” You took hold of his hands and held them in your lap, squeezing them. He was always so damn warm, you already felt like you were heating up.

“Can we lay down?” He asked, tugging his hands away. You nodded and waited for him to get situated, laying on his back with one arm outstretched. You rested your neck upon it, and snuggled up to him. He kissed your forehead, and then rubbed his nose against yours in affection. “I had a dream a couple of nights ago where you left me. I couldn’t bear it.”

“So instead of telling me about it, you decide to grow suspicious of my cousin?” You asked, snuggling against his chest. He breathed out calmly, and you felt his chest rise and fall underneath your friend.

“Sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Bill said after a minute of thinking. “He really is your cousin?”

“You don’t see the family resemblance?” You teased, and poked your own nose. It was a rather distinctive feature on your cousin, not so much on you. Bill laughed and pulled you on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“Not at all, and I hope I never do.”

“But he’s so handsome,” You teased, and instantly regretted it, because he hands came up and started to ticke your sides, making you squirm with laughter. “Okay, okay, let’s not talk about him unless we’re talking about class, okay?”

“And no talking about any other guys either,” Bill said, sternly.

“That’s taking it a little far, baby,” You said, running your fingers through his soft hair. “You shouldn’t be insecure at all, I’m yours. And that’s not going to change if I have to pair up with a boy for a project or something.”

Bill sighed, and leaned his head back against his pillow. “You’re just too good for me.”

“Says who?”

“Myself.”

“You really should be nicer to yourself, Bill. I promise you - you’re amazing and I wish you thought of yourself that way. I wish for a day you could see yourself as I see you.”

“Too bad your power isn’t to change yourself into me,” Bill said with a smirk. “Then I’d be seeing myself in a really weird way.”

“I’d still try to kiss you - oh and make so much trouble,” You giggled, thinking about it. Bill distracted you with another kiss, this time on the lips, deepening it. But you pulled away before things could get too intimate. “I should get going though, babe. I’ve got to work on our assignment for-” You paused before you said the name, and chose your next words carefully. “X’s class.”

“Wait, what assignment?” Bill said. You got up off of him and onto your feet, adjusting your shirt where it had gotten rumpled.

“Really? You glare at him so long, you don’t even pick up anything that he was saying?” You asked, pulling your hair back from your face in the way that you knew Bill liked. It was a bit of a tease but he deserved it for how he was acting.

“I was more focused on trying to make his brain explode.” Bill sat up, and shrugged. You sighed, and walked into the spot between his legs. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head against your stomach. “Can you help me out?”

“Always.”

[skarsgardclan]

Extra Room - Bill Skarsgård Roommates AU

This is the beginning of a series I was writing for myself (it was never meant to see the light of day) but I figured someone might enjoy it so here it is.

Bill Skarsgård x reader

1.9K words

...

You hands tremble lightly as you stand outside the door of a beautiful 2-story townhouse in downtown Stockholm. Your fingers clutch at a small piece of crumpled paper with an address and a name on it, nothing more, nothing less.

Bill Skarsgård

Tegnérgatan 41

You didn’t have high expectations when you saw the ad in the paper for an individual renting out a room in their home, and you figured it was better than staying in the hole you’ve subjected yourself to all freshman year of university. So, you had written the address down, called the number, and scheduled a time to check out the place and meet the man who was living there, presumably alone. Although you were a bit hesitant to consider living alone with a man you’ve never met, you’re desperate, and admittedly, the place is gorgeous.

You knock gingerly at the door and are completely shocked by what appears on the other side. Bill, you assume, is well over 6 feet of lean muscle with dark, carefully styled hair and large, piercing eyes. He holds a phone to his ear and speaks in a bored tone to whomever is on the other side, but once his gaze meets you he hesitates. His eyes rake up and down your form steadily before he catches himself and offers you a small smile and stepping aside to let you in.

He wraps up his conversation with the person on the phone and places it on the table in his entryway before turning his attention back to you. There’s a moment of awkward silence as you both try to figure out how to greet each other. He ends up breaking the silence first and reaching his hand toward you.

“You must be y/n,” he begins once you take his hand and shake. “I’m Bill, as you’ve probably guessed. I, uh, own the place.”

You can’t help the way that your eyes drift down toward his lips, what with them being so soft and plump looking and pink. You catch yourself in your thoughts and remind yourself to replace the batteries in your vibrator. These thoughts about a stranger couldn’t be anything more than random fantasies due to hormones that haven’t been satiated for too long to be healthy. Freshman year left little time or privacy to take care of your… needs.

“Yeah, hi.” You laugh, shaking his hand. “Sorry I’m a bit early, I came from work.” He shook his head and gestured to the living room.

“No problem whatsoever. I work from home or travel most of the time, so I was just working on some things before you got here. Would you like anything to drink?” You shake your head and thank him before sitting with him in the living room. “So, your room would be upstairs, down the hall from mine. It has its own bathroom and a walk-in closet, and there’s also a home office that you’re welcome to use. There’s two desks, so you can set up your own space for studying or whatever you need.” He told you. You recalled the photo of the home office he’d emailed you along with photos of the rest of the place, and smiled at the idea of sitting across from him as you both tapped along at your desks on a cold day.

“That’s very generous of you, thank you.” He smiled and clasped his hands behind him. You bit your lip as you looked to the beautiful, dark wood floors. “Can I ask you a personal question?” He nodded and his eyes met yours.

“Of course.”

“Why are you seeking out a roommate?” He sighed.

“It’s a big house to have all to yourself. I figured having another person here would make being at home less..” He trailed off and your breath hitched.

“Boring?” You asked. He chuckled as his eyes met the floor.

“I was going to say, lonely.” Your heartbeat quickened a bit at that, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because he stood up and began walking toward the stairs. “I guess I can take you to see the upstairs and you can look around on your own and let me know what you think.” You agreed and followed him upstairs, where he showed you what would be your room, which was gigantic, the home office, and the library. Once you were back downstairs, he told you a bit about the kitchen, showed you the laundry room, dining room, and the garage before you ended up back in the living room in front of the fireplace.

“You have a beautiful home, Bill.” He smiled bashfully and cleared his throat.

“Thank you. You’re welcome to look around for a bit if you want to, get to know the place. If you have any questions I’ll be down here. Do you want anything to eat? I think I’m going to make something for lunch.” You smiled and without realizing it, your fingers brushed his bicep.

“Thank you, and yes please, I’d love a bit of whatever you’ve got in mind.” He smiled and eyed your hand, stilling for a moment before nodding and breaking away.

“Coming right up.”

You took about 10 minutes to wander around, pausing before what you knew was the door to Bill’s bedroom. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t curious, but you didn’t want to invade his privacy, which you were sure he valued very much. You told yourself to turn around, but you couldn’t help yourself when you noticed it was open an inch or two. You only poked it lightly and it swung open a bit more so you could see inside. It was very neat and tidy, full of neutral colored furniture and things that made it look very modern and cozy. Some freshly ironed dress pants were laid out on the bed and some papers were strewn out on the desk, but everything else was carefully stored in its own place. When the scent of mahogany and musk with a hint of dark spice hit you, your eyes fluttered shut. It was heavenly. You snapped out of it quickly, though, and pulled the door back to where it had been before returning downstairs, satisfied.

“So… what do you think?” Bill asked when he noticed you were back in the kitchen with him. There was a white towel slung over his shoulder and his sweater had been discarded, leaving him in only a tight, white t-shirt.

“I love it. This place is beautiful and homey and you’re very kind. I really appreciate you considering me.” He chuckled and looked up at you, a light smirk across his features.

“I’m glad you’re impressed.” He turned to the stove behind him and stirred something in a pot. “Also, I decided on some homemade soup. Nothing fancy, but delicious nonetheless.” You smiled and walked a bit closer to him.

“Wow, homemade soup. I haven’t had a homemade meal in a long time.” He looked at you incredulously.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t have the time or money to cook during the school year since I lived in a dorm and all of my paycheck goes toward my tuition. I lived on cans and boxes for most of the year. It’s not all bad, though.” He stopped what he was doing and leaned against his hands on the counter.

“Well I guess now’s the right time to let you know that if you move in, you’ll have to let me feed you real food.” You laughed at that and nodded in agreement.

“I guess I can deal with that.” You smiled at each other for a moment before he continued chopping vegetables and pouring them into the pot of broth. “Is there anything I can help with?” He looked up at you and thought for a moment before tilting his head toward the liquor cabinet.

“Would you mind pouring me a whiskey?” You nodded and did so before placing it delicately next to the cutting board. “Thanks.” You took a seat at the counter and watched him cook for a little while. You had to hold in a giggle every once in a while when his height made something normal a challenge for him. You watched him gracefully chop, stir, pour, measure, etc. until he poured some soup into two bowls and set one in front of you.

You moaned softly when the first spoon of soup hit your tongue. It was so rich in flavor and smooth and you couldn’t help it. Bill didn’t seem phased, but you did catch a tiny smile grace his lips.

“I’m glad you like it.” You both laughed. You ate in silence for a few minutes until you were both finished and happily full. He finished first and washed his bowl in the sink while you watched, shoving the last little bit into your face before politely hopping off the barstool and standing beside him next to the sink. You were gonna wash it yourself but he gently took the bowl from your hands and shoo’d you away, insisting that guests don’t do dishes.

“That was lovely, thank you.” You said. He smiled and nodded.

“Anytime. Did you have any questions?”

“When do you think a decision will be made?” He shrugged.

“Well, whenever you decide if you want to move in, I guess.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“You mean, I’ve got the room?” He smiled and shrugged again.

“Of course. You’re the only person I’ve had tour the place and you’re the best potential roommate I could have hoped for.” You blushed and smiled down at the floor.

“I’d love to live here, Bill. Thank you so much.”

“Do you have a place to stay in the meantime, until you can get your things over here?” He asked. You shrugged. The dorm kicks the students out during the summer so you had just been planning on staying at a hostel.

“I mean, I can figure it out.” He shook his head before grabbing a key off of the ring in his pocket.

“No, no, you’re welcome to stay here in the guest room until we can have your furniture and things brought over. Here’s a key to the place,” he reached into his wallet and pulled out a small slip of paper, “and the garage code.” Your mouth was hanging open but words wouldn’t come out. He was being so kind to you and you didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you. So much.” He put his large hand on your shoulder.

“Of course. You’re my roommate, now. I can’t have you surfing couches and sharing one room with 10 other random people when you’ve got a warm bed and all the food you can eat, here.” He grabbed his keys again and gestured toward the door. “I was going to go to the store after you left, but since I presume you’re staying here tonight anyway, do you wanna go with me and get some ingredients for dinner?” You nod and try to dim the giant grin on your face. He returns your smile and reaches over to open the front door for you. “Ladies first.”

[halfway-happyyy]

Dream a Little Dream for Me

AN: Another AU - not sure how this one came to me, but it did and I wrote it down. Bill’s a cellist in New York City, who happens to meet the love of his life. Alas, fate wiggles her fickle fingers and emotional pain ensues. Cheers!

Word count: 2,554

“My head in “happy” bloused,

For love lives in this house.” – ‘To June This Morning’ – Johnny Cash

The beginning was forever inscribed in your mind in snapshots: New York City. September. Julliard. Music. Laughter. Anxiety. Love.

His viridian orbs, intense and twinkling in the low light from the candles scattered around your third-floor walk-up.

His fingers, long and calloused and usually cool to the touch, knew cello better than anyone you had ever met. It was almost as if he had known it his entire life; like he was born with the ability to play it even then.

His dreams: (which had also morphed into your dreams) playing the cello for the New York Philharmonic.

Moments where it was just you and him; where he spent more time memorizing every detail of your face, your favorite food, what made your blood boil, where you saw yourself in ten years’ time… than he did in reading music off of coffee-stained sheets of paper.

You had asked someone very dear to you once for advice on relationships. This was the one thing they had said that stood out to you the most:

“Pay attention to the subtle things… for they are the things that you will miss the most when they are gone.”

It was a shift that had happened so suddenly, and without notice that you’d almost missed it. Where once there was room enough for your cat and you in your one-bedroom walk-up, you were now blissfully aware of him. He made his presence known in entirely subtle ways; a slight indentation in your mattress on his side, his toothbrush jutting out from the cup at the edge of your sink, a black fabric case in the shape of a cello stood in the corner of your bedroom. In the mornings when he had to be up hours before you to get to the symposium, he would kiss your temple three times and whisper nonsensical things into your ear. You would arise a few hours later to a cup of coffee in the microwave, and a sticky note scrawled in his loopy script stuck to the Ziploc bag of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Loving him was as easy and effortless as anything in the world could be. You never had to think about it; one day you were without him and the next day you were with him.

“I don’t feel prepared.” The admission had been a quiet one; the cap of a pen was wedged between his lips, which made understanding him that much more difficult. You observed him in the waning light of the kitchen; his brows knit together in frustration. He was surrounded by piles of musical sheets; his cello sat expectantly a few feet from where he was situated. You waited for him to say something else. “I uh… don’t feel prepared at all.” He ran a hand through the mop of brunette hair atop his head. “Which is frustrating because all I feel like I’ve been doing for the past few years… is practicing.”

“Why don’t you feel prepared?” You had asked quietly.

Bill was silent before the pen cap dropped from his mouth, and a sigh exited behind it in the form of a puff of air. “This is one of the biggest auditions of my life and if I don’t play like my life depends on it…”

You settled the book you had been reading into your lap and turned your attention fully to him. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you play the cello like you weren’t playing it as if your life depended on it.”

Bill glanced sideways to the wooden instrument next to him, eliciting another heavy sigh as he did so. “All I want out of life is to build the best one I can with you… I want to make you proud.”

You got up from where you were seated next to the window, allowing the chunky knit blanket to pool at your feet. You padded over to where Bill was sat at the kitchen table and bent down over him to press your lips to the center of his temple. “You are one of the most talented and driven people I have ever met in my entire life. It is not lost on me, that I get to wake up to you every single day. Whether you make this audition or not, I could not be more fortunate to be with you.” You squeezed a palm around his shoulder reassuringly. “Come to bed when you feel like it, I’ll always be waiting for you.”

           You observed Bill take his seat at the center of the stage from a distance; and though his anxiety was palpable throughout the entire taxi ride over, he seemed completely focused now. He had to be. David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center was mostly empty except for the people sitting in the first few rows. Bill introduced himself and within moments, he was playing. It was quite possibly the best cello you had ever heard him play; it brought a rush of memories back from years ago, when he was simply a student with a dream. It was difficult to look away and it was pure poetry in motion. There was really no telling where Bill began, and the cello ended; they were synonymous with one another. His deft fingers played the bow against the strings with such expertise that it simply took your breath away. There was the notion that this person had acquired a God-given talent, and he was on his way to do doing magnificent things with it. When he was finished, he simply removed himself from the chair, bowed to the people in front of him, and exited through the side stage. You met up with him outside, it was a chilly September evening, a rosy tint seeped into the apples of his cheeks, but you knew it had nothing to do with the weather. He was leant up against the outside of the brick building, grinning from ear to ear. “How’d I do?”

           You stuffed your fingers into the pockets of your coat, kicking at a stray rock with your right foot. “How do you think you did?”

           Bill shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself from the wall to place a kiss to your cheek. “I think I did alright.”

           You tilted your head back to illicit a giggle and nodded your head in agreement. “Maybe they’ll let you in after tonight.”

           Bill sighed happily and looped his palm through the handle on his case. “Yeah, maybe they will.”

You had awoken a month and a half later to the innate feeling of Bill’s fingertips tracing lazily up and down the dips and valleys of your hips and torso. His lips rested at the shell of your ear, and your eyes slid open to the sound of his voice. “Wake up my love…” The red glowing digits of the alarm clock next to your bed read, ‘7:07 A’. You frowned to yourself and turned in his arms to face him.

           “This better be good…”

Bill nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, causing a giggle to bubble up from the depths of your throat. “They want me, love.”

           You froze a moment before his words registered through the sleep-induced fog of your brain. “Beg your pardon?”

           As Bill lifted his gaze to yours, you knew. Immediately, you knew, and you couldn’t be happier for him if you tried. “I now work for the New York Philharmonic as a cellist.”

                                                               ~

You had both chalked it up to exhaustion at the very beginning as it was his third year into Philharmonic life in the Big Apple. Bill had been working almost entirely without pause; practice after practice. Live show after live show. He was indescribably happy about it though; this was clearly what he was meant to be doing with his life and though he would come home utterly spent, he loved every single minute of his career. And so, at the beginning it was easy to label it as fatigue. It was easy to think that it was normal to have your vision go off some days, or to forget minuscule tasks. Those things just managed to get lost in the jumble of everyday life with Bill. Nothing to be concerned about. “I’m sure it’s just exhaustion.” Bill would say, when you reminded him the second time in a row about something important happening. When it started to become worrisome, was when he would misplace objects he’d just recently used. Take his bow for instance. He would be using it to practice with, and an hour would pass, and he would simply forget where it was that he put it down. Or perhaps, getting into the car to head to an appointment, and then re-entering the apartment a few moments later to ask what it was he was going for in the first place. The last straw however, occurred when reading music started to become an issue for him.

It had been a simple enough process; Bill had gone through numerous brain scans and MRI’s, and one morning as snow began to fall in thick white flakes from the sullen sky, you found out. It wasn’t going to be ideal; that much was certain just from the way the Doctor was peering over at you and Bill. He had cleared his throat, glanced down at the papers in his hand and shook his head woefully. “There uh… there is no other way to put this, other than to say that it looks as though Mr. Skarsgård has developed an extremelyrare form of early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.” It had almost been laughable, really. Bill had just turned thirty-years old two months ago. This was the kind of illness that ravaged the minds of elderly people- people who lived in nursing homes and relied on a myriad of medications and doctors’ visits to keep them afloat. This was not the kind of disease that took hold of a young person’s brain let alone Bill’s. His doctor droned on for maybe another half an hour after the first initial blow. Bill asked questions, and most of the answers flew past you without notice. Sounds and sights were distorted; almost as if you were hearing and viewing them from under a massive body of water. The subway ride home had been mostly silent, save for the white noise of chatter around you both. Though few words were spoken between the pair of you, there was a silent look in Bill’s glassy green gaze that seemed to match yours and scream at the top of its lungs, what the fuck are we going to do now?

Bill had resumed his daily routine almost as if nothing of significance had even occurred. In the morning, with a cup of black coffee and maybe a croissant, or a breakfast bagel, he would swallow back a handful of pills that were designed to slow the progression of the disease. “I love you to the moon and back,” he would murmur before hoisting his cello over his back, blowing you a kiss and leaving out the front door. You were constantly stuck in an internal battle of wanting to bring up what was going on with him and wanting to pretend it would go away. One night, a few months after the original diagnosis, the decision had already been made. You had awoken to the haltingly unfamiliar sounds of crying; full-body sobbing and uncontrollable hiccupping. You fumbled around in the dark for the light switch to your bedside lamp and peered blearily over at Bill. It had taken you a few moments to process the situation and when you did, you simply shimmied over to his side, and wrapped your body up behind his. “I’m so scared…” he whimpered helplessly, and the sentence alone almost caused the heart inside your chest to shatter.

You smoothed the hair back from his face and pressed your lips to the nape of his neck. “Shh, my darling. It’s going to be okay.” It was the only thing you could think of to say in that moment. You held him to you for a while, listening as the sobs dwindled into sniffles.

“We’ve both worked so incredibly hard to build a life for ourselves that we’re content with…” Bill’s voice wavered under the imminent threat of more tears. “I’m just scared.”

You held him closer to you, willing his pain to dissipate beneath your embrace. “You and I are going to navigate this together, Bill. I’ll always be here for you.”

Bill had risen before you one morning; it had been the first morning in weeks that New York hadn’t been dumped in snow during the night, and the sun shone brightly through an azure sky. Your gaze travelled to a note, tacked to a small wooden box. It was written in Bill’s scrawl, and you strained in the light to read it fully.

Things I never, ever want to forget:

- The noises she makes when she’s sleeping, the smell of her perfume on my pillow, how she makes coffee, her favourite flavour of ice cream, her top ten favourite books, the look on her face when I ask her to marry me.

Just as you had reached for the box on Bill’s pillow, he rounded the corner to your room and stood inside the doorway. His head rested lazily against the paint-chipped frame, a bouquet of flowers wedged tightly within his grasp. He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant way. “You asked me a few months after I started with the Philharmonic… what was the next big thing I’d like to accomplish in my life.” Bill’s voice; the slight inflection of an accent, pulled you away from your thoughts.

You had turned to him, eyebrows raised in slight amusement. “And?”

Bill folded his arms across his chest, a slow smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “And… it is spending the rest of my days in the kitchen with you. It’s us making coffee, it’s you in the crowd at Lincoln Center. It’s Oscar the diabetic cat, and this one-bedroom walk up that’s too small for the three of us, but I love it dearly,” His voice wavered the slightest bit. “Just as I love you dearly. Whether its here, or there… it makes no difference to me. Life is short and I’m not sure how many years I’ve got left but I know I need to spend them with you, creating whatever memories we can.” It was only when he was finished speaking that you realized you had been holding your breath. “Will you be my wife?”

You reached for the box and opened it, peering down at the diamond band before you. You slid it onto your finger and watched in silent awe as it twinkled beautifully in the sunlight. A tear escaped your eye before you could help it, and you wiped it away with the pad of your thumb. “I’d love nothing more, Bill.”

                                                            ~

The ending will forever be inscribed in your mind in snapshots: New York City. September. Music. Laughter. Anxiety. And love… so much love.

[diianawonka]

Requested by:

Annon: Hi I don't know if you can do a bill Skarsgard imagine like bill brothers come to visit you two and you an bill have a little fun at night😉😉and in the morning his brothers tease you both about how loud you are and bill was defending you and yeah ejeje thank you!! "Smut" please thanks!       

@harleysgothamonline Hello, desperate fangirl here! Could you possibly do an imagine where the reader and Bill get into a huge argument just having a screaming match and they are both screaming and crying and she's hitting his chest out of anger, and then they both make up by kissing passionately and cuddling. It's okay if you want to pass on that idea, I promise I won't be butt hurt lol.

Warnings: Language, smut.

A/N: I hope you don’t mind that I mixed two request, I’ve changed the roles just a little. This is my firs time writting smut and I really sucks... sorry about that, I‘ve tried my best, sorry for my horrible english.

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Title: “You moan like a princess”

__________

“Stop yelling, Y/N, my siblings are in the next room” Bill whispered trying to stay calm despite his girlfriend still yelling at him without reason

“I DON’T CARE THEY’RE IN HERE BILL” She yelled furiously, feeling her heart beating faster against her chest  

“Why are you so angry, Y/N? WHAT DID I DO NOW?” he asked without understanding, twining his fingers in his hair, starting to feel desperate.  

“I SAW YOUR CELLPHONE” She confessed with tears in her eyes “I SAW YOUR MESSAGES WITH THAT SLUT, BILL!”  She felt the bitter tears begin to slide down her red cheeks. Bill looked at her, he was furious, his girlfriend had been snooping on his cellphone without permission

“WHY DID YOU CHECK MY PHONE, Y/N?” He asked angrily, starting to yell too

“OH MY GOD! I JUST FOUND YOUR MESSAGES WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AND YOU…  Oh God , I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, BILL!” She tried to look at him, but tears clouded her vision and she felt how her heart break into a thousand pieces. Bill stayed quiet, looking at who he believed was the love of his life, crying furiously in front of him and he felt like the worst human being.

“I’m sorry” He whispered with a broken voice, approaching her, trying to hold her, but she walks away

“YES, YOU SHOULD SORRY” She kept yelling, not with anger but sadness

“Y/N, it’s not what you think, nothing ever happened with her” He tried to hug her desperately and she hits him on the chest

“I’m not stupid, Bill” She hits him again trying to get away from him, but he was holding her tight

“I know you’re not, Y/N, please” He begged with tears in his eyes “I love you”

“No, you don’t” She sobbed as he embraced her

“Hey…” He whispered and takes her chin with his fingertips “Look at me, my love” Y/N turned to see him, Oh God! She loved his green eyes “You have to believe me, I would never do anything to hurt you” He said more relaxed

“But I saw the messages, Bill, you can’t deny it!”

He sighed heavily.

The truth was that in the last few months, Bill had been planning his marriage proposal to Y/N, and his best friend had agreed to help him with it, the messages really could be misunderstood because they just talked about meeting in certain places to talk about it

“She was helping me to plan my marriage proposal” he confesses in distress “Now it’s all ruined, but I don’t care because I don’t want to lose you Y/N” he walked to the dressing table and take the fake flowers from the clay vase, he reached into the vase and pulled out a small black box.

He went back to Y/N and showed it to her “It’s not as I had planned it, actually Gustaf and Alex were here to help me with it but… damn it! You’d to be a psycho girlfriend, dear!” Y/N looked at him in puzzlement, with one hand covering her mouth, feeling the stupidest woman on the planet, she was trembling and couldn’t control it, Bill rested his forehead on hers; she could feel his warm breath and breathe his favorite cologne that she loved it so much, chamomile and mint, she looked into his eyes “be my wife” he whispered opening the little box

“Oh my god”

“is it a yes?”

“Yes” She whispered almost inaudibly.

Bill took the ring and put it on her finger. He kissed her,  holding her tightly by the waist, but it wasn’t a romantic kiss, it was one full of desire. It wouldn’t be the first time they ended up having sex after an argument.

He was much taller than her, but Y/N manages to take a small leap by wrapping her legs around his waist; Bill walked with her and they lie down on the bed while still kissing

“Do you want to go out to dinner? Or do you prefer to stay and kiss to see how this continues?” He said between kissed. Y/N looked at him and responded with another kiss even more passionate than the previous one.

Her hands had begun to play with the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one until completely removed. She loved to see him like that, she adored his milky skin and his Adam’s apple moving every time is swallowed, she loved his dilated pupils giving a special touch to the green of his eyes, and his velvet lips, Dear God.

Bill had taken her dress off along with her dark bra, his kisses had begun to run down her neck and shoulder making her gasp slightly, his velvet lips begging to fiddle with her left nipple making her squirm under him and panting wildly, his right hand low up brushing the thin fabric of her underwear, feeling as she began to get wet just for him, her thighs trembled.  

Y/N tried to control her hips, but she was desperate to feel some friction, so she took his hand and guide him inside her panties, he began to touch her gently rubbing her clit, she struggled not to moan to loudly, after all Bill’s brothers were in the next room. He slides his fingers inside her and she twisted her neck letting exposed to him, he couldn’t miss the opportunity to kiss it and suck it slightly causing it to form a small hickey that would disappear soon.

He stopped touching her “What happened?” She asked confused “Why did you stop?”

“It seems you aren’t enjoying what I’m doing” He replied, whispering in her ear. His warm breath crashing against her skin, excited her even more.

“Your brothers are in the other room, Bill”

“I thought you didn’t mind, sweetheart” He tested her, lifted one eyebrow playfully as he licked her earlobe, making her moan softly.

“Bill, please” she whispered

“I want you to scream my name” He slip another finger inside her and felt her scratching his arm.

“Bill” she whispered breathlessly as he began to move his fingers inside her, she moved her hips and moan against his neck “more…” She begged him

“I can’t hear you, sweetie”

“Fuck me, Bill” She begged, biting his jaw gently and arranging to unbuckle his belt and remove his trousers, touching his prominent bulge, he groaned at her touch and without thinking twice she moved her hand inside his boxers taking his erection.

“Shee-it, Y/N” He settled between her legs and gently slide inside her as he kissed her hardly, he lets out a small groan as she scratched his back in response, he started thrusting faster and harder

In a quick movement, Y/N was on top of him, riding his cock and scratching his chest with every movement she made, Bill held her by the waist to gain the most stimulation with each stroke. He loved her, he loved her waist, her messy hair and her breasts moving to the beat of both.

She began to feel how the heat grew inside her and her calves began to tingle, as it happened every time she was about to reach an orgasm, she also felt how Bill’s muscles began to tense beneath her… “Y/N” He groaned as he clutched her breasts and took her neck to draw her closer to him and kiss her with passion finally thrusting their both into a climax.

__

Y/N and Bill were in the kitchen making breakfast, they heard footsteps and laughter in the hall, Gustaf and Alex appeared and sat on the kitchen counter in front of both

“Good morning guys” Y/N greeted them while turning a pancake with the spatula

“Good morning, Y/N” replied Gustaf “How about last night guys?” he asked as he serve a cup of coffee, Y/N and Bill cross glances and laugh “I mean... we heard you arguing”

“And other stuff” Alex joked

Y/N felt her cheeks begin to turn pink and laughed nervously, she knew these two too well and they wouldn’t hesitate to joke “I don’t know which one is noisier, if my brother or his girlfriend” mocked Alex and Bill turned to see him angrily

Gustaf let out a loud laugh “Bill you moan like a princess”

Y/N laughed and watched Bill’s jaw began to tighten

“I mean… Dad would be very disappointed in you, brother” Alex stood up to reach a mug

Y/N laughed and walked over to Bill “Let him alone guys” She said, wrapping her arms around his neck “I love your moans baby, don’t mind them” she confessed giving him a kiss on his lips and gigglin.

requests are open! (x)

MASTERLIST

[kingkat12]

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink," 

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here. 

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with. 

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either. 

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality. 

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table. 

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected. 

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room. 

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation. 

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms. 

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude. 

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this.  "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat. 

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. 

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters. 

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra. 

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what. 

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes. 

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss. 

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on. 

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time," 

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: because i dropped your hand while dancing left you out there standing. | the marquis catches a glimpse through you.

plot: the one where the marquis saw right through you.

warning: violence, gunshot, gunshot wound, doting

masterlist

12:00 AM

you got into the right side of the passenger backseat, usually it was the marquis’ place but he’d gotten into the left side and god knows he’s not scooting over for you.

it was his car after all. you sighed to yourself, attempting to veil the proof of your exhaustion. you had gotten up at 3 AM that morning for work and now it was midnight and the work was still unfinished.

“one last meeting, then the both of you can go home. you can welcome your plush bed and the warm purrs of your sweet fluffy cat.” you assure yourself. the man beside you seems worn out as well, the pair of you had been chasing meetings and appointments all day long. each meeting took at least 1-2 hours but with the marquis’ firm insistence to see an opera play which took about four hours, you can’t help but feel annoyed that this man’s taste had gotten in the way of your sleeping schedule.

the two of you were on the way to an estate of a newly made ally of the marquis. it would take at least thirty minutes or an hour to get there, you pondered what time you’d be able to finally rest.

you glanced at the marquis, gazing at the car window with a drink in hand. he appears to be holding on to the cusps of consciousness, he needs to appear sharp and alert with the help of an alcoholic drink. he kept quiet and the roaring of the engine was heard inside the vehicle. and it’s going to remain that way, you tell yourself.

god what you’d give for a quick power nap for this very hour, although you’re quite sure you’d sleep through the next day. however, sleep shouldn’t be your priority right now, the marquis needs you to be vigilant and sharp as well, no matter how tempting it is to sleep through this entire car ride.

“fuck, i feel like i’m about to pass out.” you complain to yourself, the temptation presenting itself more sweeter than it had been a few seconds ago.

you steal a quick glance at the marquis and he’s still..occupied looking through the car window. you might as well indulge in a quick nap, hopefully he won’t mind…right? and even if he does mind, no amount of verbal chastisement can amount to a quick rest.

you lean your head against the window, catching glimpses of the city lights and few pedestrians on the street. your eyelids fluttering from the sudden burst of light from other cars, tucking your hands on your lap. you drift to the sleep you’ve been yearning for.

a shaking wakes you up from your slumber, jolting from the action, you open your eyes wide open and see the driver shaking your knee.

“we’ve arrived” he announces.

you fix yourself sheepish from your unconsciousness, you quickly glance at the marquis to make sure he isn’t annoyed and thankfully he doesn’t seem displeased. the alcoholic drink was absent from his hand and he was checking something on his phone. you glance at your watch to check the time.

1:20 AM

you hope that arrival time was only a few minutes before that and it didn’t take several minutes shaking you conscious. realizing that you dropped your journal on the flooring of the car, you hastily pick it up and fix your sleeved shirt into place.

“shall we go inside, sir?” you meekly inquire to the marquis.

he slowly faces himself to you then checks his watch. he meets your eyes then clicks his tongue.

“yes.” he shortly answers before unlocking the door.

you follow his lead and you unlock the door of your side of the car, you get out of the vehicle. the estate was rather grand but not as grand as any of the marquis’ properties. the entrance was classy and elegant, with a staircase leading to the main entrance of the grand mansion and the lights were numerous but weren’t all illuminated; you could count at least five working lamps in the round plaza. out of your instinct, you look back at the marquis to see if he was out of the car as well.

“christ i feel like a doting mother to her child.” you mutter to yourself.

you let him lead the way, waiting for him to walk in front of you before you continue walking. the tiredness seeps into your body and senses again. you wonder if this would take an hour or two. but before the marquis trudges in front of you. a gunshot echoes through the plaza, the bullet bounces off the ground next to where the marquis is positioned, missing its intended target.

your voice shrieks, filled with dread and volume. one of the guards screams for the marquis to get down but he doesn’t, he looks astounded from what’s just happened, that someone is attempting to kill him. instead, you are the one who folds onto the ground scared for your life, yanking the marquis through his coat to get down on the ground with you.

“jesus christ, get down! are you trying to get yourself killed?!” you screech at his face, forgetting yourself, the weight of how dire the situation was pulling your senses down. in a different circumstance, he might’ve screamed back at you but right now he was silent. from shock or he didn’t care at what you just said to him but he remained stuck to the ground.

more bullets begin to shoot from every direction, some of them you can hear bouncing off the ground and some hitting the car, where you and the marquis are taking cover from the line of fire. great, now you’d either die being shot by a ricochet bullet or just get shot point blank. amazing.

“oh god. oh god. i’m going to fucking die. i’m going to die here.” you begin to ramble, tears are pricking your eyes and the sound of gunshots overwhelming your senses. you lean your back against the car and ball up weeping.

you could hear the heavy sigh the marquis made beside you, feeling shame fill your gut because you’d displeased him. oh fucking god, you’re about to die and you’re concerned about the irritation your boss has for you right now, that you’ve shown yourself weak in this very moment. this is fucking stupid, i should’ve never applied for this job. you slightly glare at him because of that.

“not everyone goes through this, you fucking asshole! sorry if i look fucking weak right now because i think i might die right now?! screw you and your french operas! screw that fucking painting you stare at the louvre! you can go fuck yourself if you think less of me right now?!” you wanted to scream at him, but decided not to, taking into measure it would only irritate him even more and wouldn’t do anything to help you.

your boss remained low to prevent stray bullets, he wasn’t sitting on the ground anymore but one of his feet was planted on the ground and his knee knelt on the floor. he looked at you, your face pale from fear and full of dread.

“you’re not going to die. we only have to wait this out. i assure you nothing bad will happen to you.” he attempts to reassure you but the tone of his voice is nothing but not assuring, it remains cold and firm as if stating a well-known fact. he was so sure that nothing bad would happen.

“you better be right, because if we die i’m going to search through the depths of hell just to strangle you for being wrong.” you think to yourself, “i might be dead but i can heal in hell.”

it continues on for several more minutes, you find it hard to know whether the gunfight was turning to your favor, considering you saw a few of the marquis’ guards dead on the ground but fewer enemies seem to shoot back as time progresses. finally, the gunshots start to dwindle until none remains, you look at the marquis wondering if it was safe to stand up. the marquis leans his hand against the car then calls out.

“thomas, are we clear?” your boss calls out, expecting the familiar voice of the captain of his bodyguards to immediately reply but there is none. silence ensues and dread slowly cements itself in your stomach, you pondered if thomas was already dead to answer the marquis.

“yes sir, the opening's clear. we’re good to get out of here.” thomas replies, his breath labored from the previous encounter.

relief floods your head and you let out a relieved sigh, glad that it is over. the marquis gets on both of his feet and looks around, his brain likely coming up with punishments for his new enemy for what he did tonight. you sniff then slowly rise in front of your boss, thankful the horrible occurrence was over.

for a moment you thought that everything was finally okay, but as you rose up, you caught a sight of your boss’ face stunned and alarmed while looking at you…except he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the person behind you.

before you could turn around to react, a final gunshot rang through the plaza and this time you couldn’t hear the sound of a ricocheting bullet to compensate for it. fuck, fuck, fuck. god please no. please no, a frail prayer to the above.

you look down and you notice a bright red spreading through your torso, the blood’s seeping through my shirt, you thought. you grasp your body and sink into the ground once again. god, it fucking hurts, you panic in your head. you hear another gunshot ring into the air, you pray that it wasn’t directed to you, when you look up you see the marquis wielding a gun, you assume he has shot the perpetrator, hopefully dead. you don’t often wish someone ill will, but right now it’s not fair for me to die and him to live. you let out a labored sigh and groan from the pain, as you try to lessen the blood loss. whimpering and tearing from the immense agony you felt from your wound, suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. you look up and it’s the marquis, unscathed and safe.

well that’s not fair. i’m definitely hunting him through hell. you promise to yourself, trying to find amusement for this situation. the marquis on the other hand was someone you’ve never seen before.

he has repositioned your head against himself, attempting to find comfort for you whilst you bled on the ground. you could hear bouts of shouts from the guards that survived but couldn’t understand what they’d been saying. the marquis gazes at you with concern. an odd thought to your head, you must be imagining this with the both of you locked in a daze.

“you’ll be okay, mon amour. hold on for a little, it will be safe for you soon. you will live.” he utters to you, one of his palms rubbing circles to the pulse on your arm. it sounds like a promise, like a vow. an oath made during his frail moments. this sounded much more assuring than what he’d said earlier and it…

it sounded like he cared, like he actually cared about you because he does. not because of any loyal service you’ve given him but because he can’t seem to bear the idea of you gone. it almost sounded like he was assuring himself that you wouldn’t die right now, that he wouldn’t let it happen.

oh what has the world become? in a short span of time you’ve been scared for your life, relieved for safety, basically a clusterfuck of emotions, got shot by a dude that’s more dead than you are right now, slowly bleeding to death and most peculiar of all you’re dying in the arms of your boss and it seems like he cares about you.

you could feel black spots appearing in your vision, blocking the very lovely face of the marquis and the glimmer of the night sky. with your bones weary from work and your blood soaking through your clothes, slowly you flutter your eyes shut. the last thing you hear is the marquis barking an order, for you or for someone else, you could not tell. right now it didn’t matter, not when you’ve embraced the arms of death.

a sudden burst of light shines through your eyelids.

you open your eyes and it’s welcomed by the bright sunlight coming from the windowsill. you’re laid on a plush bed, likely not yours. you could only dream of having this bed. the room you’re situated in is regal and glamourous, you figure out that you’re in one of the rooms of the marquis’ home. wait, what?

then it all starts surging back to you, the gunshots from foe and ally, dragging the marquis to the ground with you and bleeding on the ground of the plaza. oh my god, i’m alive. i’m alive.

you thank whatever god that might exist out there, grateful that they’d spared you from dying. a gasp exists your mouth but rather labored, my throat is hoarse. i need water. a gleam beams at the end of your eyes, you look at glass and pitcher of water beside the bed, on the nightstand. you suddenly sit up and pain pierces through your body

“fuck!” you curse, wincing you lift your shirt and see bandages wrapped around your torso. it was bandaged properly but soon you’d need to get wrapped again, the blood was starting to show on the fabric.

slowly you scoot to the end of the large elegant bed, trying to minimize the movement that your torso might’ve done in normal condition. once your feet hanged over the bed, the nightstand was a bit farther than you expected from the bed, i’ll have to talk to the housekeeper about this, it’s called a nightstand for a reason. it’s supposed to be beside the bed not half a meter away from it! thankfully, there was a chair nearby you could grasp onto. you grabbed the pitcher and poured it on the glass, filling it to the brim. you drank it, greedily gulping the smooth liquid that served remedy for your dry throat. after finishing all of it, you set the glass back at the nightstand then scoot back to the headboard of the comfy bed, which was bombarded with pillows. the bed looked sweet enough for a princess like sleeping beauty, thankfully you woke up sooner than later compared to the fairytale princess.

you contemplate how long you’ve been out ever since you got shot, with the sleepiness and the severity of your wound, you pray it didn’t take longer than a few days, you had duties to fulfill and tasks to accomplish, of course but going home seemed more pleasant than doing some work. you missed the warm fluffy pet you had at home, you pray that the automatic feeder had provided enough food for your cat.

you decided to head home, you didn’t want to over-welcome your stay at the marquis’, surprisingly you’ve never spent a single night here for sleep. the only people who slept in the manor was the marquis, himself in addition to the household staff and his security team. sometimes the guests the marquis invited were offered to stay but it happened rarely and mostly out of ill contempt. you’ve entered some of the bedrooms but never laid on one, your boss’ home seemed more like palace than house and you often speculated he was picky with who stayed in his home.

you opt to get out of here, right now. maybe call for the person who bandaged you up, to get your wound treated again. you get up from the bed again and weakly trudge to the door, holding on to pieces of furniture nearby in case you fell.

you pull the door with all your strength, i did not realize how fucking heavy this thing was, how did the guards open it in such an easy manner? you might never tell. when the door was slightly ajar, peeking your head through the opening. you notice two men guarding the door, weird you think to yourself, but before you could say anything one of them notices you and jolt, his eyes wide,

“ma’am, good to see you awake. do you need anything?” thomas, the guard inquires to you.

now this is weird beyond levels, they’ve never spoken that polite to you. sometimes you occasionally joked with them but it was never this…formal. not to mention, this was thomas. he’s supposed to be protecting the marquis 24/7 not watching over the assistant.

“um…i need adeline, the senior housekeeper? i was just about to go to her for my stuff and then head home.” you answer to him, also weirdly polite.

“afraid, you can’t ma’am.” he replies, this perplexes you. why in the world not? a silence answers thomas, hopefully this wasn’t the marquis’ doing. you literally almost died and he won’t even let you leave…the recovery room? much less let you leave the manor and go home? anyways, it has rendered you temporarily speechless and annoyed,

“can i ask why, thomas?” you question him, trying not let your annoyance show.

“doctor’s orders. also out of experience, you just took a bullet to the torso, think you might need to be under observation for a while to make sure your gunshot wound doesn’t get worse, would hate it for you to die right now, ma’am.” he explains to you, it sounds just right but it feels weird the way he says it. normally there’d be a tinge of humor when he entertained your questions but it was nonexistent right now.

god what in the world happened?

“uh..okay. i appreciate that thomas, could you please send for adeline here then? and if it’s possible, the doctor too.” you reply to him with a weak smile. he simply hums in return and leaves you.

you let out a tired sigh and walk back to bed, you were getting out of here one way or another. right now, you need to process what the fuck just happened to you. you need to think if the amount of money the marquis pays you was worth dying for to stay under his employ. you sit on the edge of the bed and bury your face in your hands, hoping that adeline arrived first before the doctor.

you anticipated that adeline might help you get out of here through the back door of the house. the marquis’ house as armed and protected it was didn’t seem safe to you. i need the comfort of my home and a new job.

no matter how protected the marquis was, if you were going to die working for him. it might now be worth it, you might consider leaving france and heading back to your country. i also need a vacation. the only rest i got from him was 3-5 hours at best and therapy. i need therapy, preferably retail therapy. a cat works too.

a knock erupts from the door, you face the door and urge for the person to come in. thankfully, it was adeline. you slowly get on your feet as adeline approaches you.

“hey adeline, it’s so nice to see you.” you smile at her.

a moment of hesitation appears on her face, as if contemplating if she should’ve gone here or speak to you.

“it’s nice to see you, alive and safe ma’am.” she doesn't return a smile and meekly answers.

why was everyone so polite? adeline always welcomed whenever she spoke to you, is this usually what happens when you get shot? or do they know something i don’t? god did the bullet hit something fragile in my body? am i living on borrowed time?

you kept quiet, unsure how to continue the conversation. adeline doesn’t even meet your eyes. you feel upset and empty, this has never happened between the both of you. the last time you spoke to her, it was on good terms. both of you chattering gossip about the people in the manor. it was always good to talk to her and you presumed she felt the same. maybe it was entirely one sided.

“is there something you need? something to eat?” she probes to you.

“no, i think i’m good.” you quietly answer her. from what you’ve experienced with her, adeline had a soft heart and she had opened it you, why had she shut it close now?

“do you need someone to rebandage you? i can call the doctor for you.” she asks again.

“i already did.”

she looked up and you could feel her stare all over you. likely confused why you asked for her.

“then why did you ask the guard to call for me?” she demands. her voice felt harsh, she’d never spoken like this to you. cold and sharp enough to cut through skin.

“i was going to ask if you knew where my stuff were.”

“it’s safely stored in your locker downstairs. is there anything else? we placed some lemon water beside the bed in case you woke up.”

you hesitate, the last sentence pricked your skin. “how…how long was i out?”

“almost two weeks.”

“fuck.”

well that’s not good. you definitely need to get home to see if your cat’s still alive. hopefully he didn’t stay waiting for you at the door, you’d rather he escaped than have him starve.

“that sounds like a long time for a gunshot wound.” you mutter.

“it’s actually not.” she states matter of factly.

“oh.” you realize. “i think i need to get home right now, my family’s probably worried sick that i haven’t talk to them for weeks. any chance you could sneak me out?” you tinge your voice with concern and softness at the end.

she stays quiet, before answering to you. she’s hesitating what she’d normally say to me, she’s choosing her words carefully.

“i can’t. i assume you’ve been told what thomas knows about being shot? you need to recover.”

“adeline, i really need to go home right now…i-i don’t feel safe right here. i want to go home.” you reason with her, she had a hard exterior you prayed it could soften right now.

“i can’t.” she replies. clearly you were going nowhere when she’s firm in her decision. you decide to get petty in a way that often annoys her.

“adeline please, i need time to think, preferably away from this place.”

“you won’t get that. you’re staying here.”

“is that so? under whose orders did that come from? you’re being unreasonable here adeline, if it’s from the doctor or thomas who is sort of unreliable by the way, i’ve seen him get shot thrice but managed to beat up at least three dudes. i can get a doctor to help me treat this wound. so for god’s sake adeline who told you i can’t leave?!”

“the marqu-“ she screeches at you before cutting short. realizing she almost said that, she arranges herself and changes her answer. “the doctor. the doctor says you need to stay here.”

but you had heard it before it was finishes. the marquis. the marquis doesn’t want you to leave yet. why? god knows. likely he wants to speak to you, something about punishment or consequences if you ratted him out or something. you’re too tired to think something logical.

“no. you said the marquis. why does the marquis want me to stay here?”

she stays silent. as if her tongue had been cut at that very moment. you try to understand, but it’s hard to tell without the why.

“adeline…why? please answer me.” you pleaded.

she doesn’t say anything but looks at you. then at something behind you, like the answer was always in the room all along. you don’t follow her gaze too exhausted to play a guessing game.

“you can go now adeline. thank you.” you said feeling resigned.

adeline leaves the room and shuts the door. you slowly walk back to the nightstand pour another glass of water. your throat was still hoarse and dry from the lack of water for two weeks. you sipped the liquid, tasting a lemony flavor in the water. you remembered how the marquis wouldn’t drink anything but lemon water, he preferred it because of something about it’s health benefits but it always annoyed you because he would suddenly need a glass of it in the middle of nowhere. the first time he ordered you to fetch him one was in the middle of a meeting, he had refused to drink the bottled water on the table. you ran down for fresh lemons and plunged it into a glass filled with bottled water just to spite him. you chuckle at yourself at that, remembering the times you’d taken a shortcut at some of his orders.

wait. wait. you pondered why did they give you lemon water? you’ve never drank it here. hot water usually satisfied you, and adeline knew this. not to mention, when there was lemon water, either the marquis was near or he just left the room. it’s like he spawns out of nowhere. nevertheless, it was odd. the marquis ordering to keep you here and his precious lemon water in your room?

this is getting weird and suspicious. you decide to just call for the doctor, maybe once he clears me i can go home. odd he hasn’t arrived yet, deciding to either go to him or ask thomas to call for him again. the doors of your room burst open, you see a pair of medical professionals, a nurse and a doctor. not surprising, but what makes your forehead wrinkle in confusion and makes you frown was that the marquis was following right behind them.

you couldn’t bother to hide your shock from the marquis and stare at him as if he was the most eerie thing you’ve ever seen.

you sat on the luxurious chair, trying to listen to what the doctor was saying. he had mentioned something about avoiding vigorous exercise and constant movements to avoid ripping your stitches. while he lectured you on what to do, the nurse changed your bandages and by the end of his disquisition, the nurse was finished treating your wound.

the doctor gave you a bottle of painkillers in case you felt a sudden intense pain before he and the nurse left. you thanked the both of them for treating you before they left the door.

now, it’s time to face the elephant in the room.

the marquis.

he had sat there the entire time while the doctor rambled about the do’s and don’ts for your safety. he hadn’t spoken a single word ever since he entered the room, he sat across you on a refined cushioned chair. he seemed calm as ever, you wondered why had come here. if he was here to order you to appoint a reservation for an opera at 3 PM, you might strangle him right away wounded or not.

then again, the memory is still fresh in your mind. he had saved you, sort of. he didn’t get to prevent the perpetrator from shooting you but he did provide the medical treatment to keep you alive plus he shot the dude who shot you, so points for that.

as usual, he was staring at you. it’s become some ritual of his whenever you enter the room to the point you just ignore it. it hinted that it was harmless as you’ve observed for the past two years. but there was something different about it this time.

before, you’ve assumed that he stared to invoke submission and resilience from you, to establish himself as higher than you, but now his gaze wants to invoke a word from you. why? you wouldn’t know. the enigma that is your boss, is a puzzle too difficult to solve.

“how are you feeling?” he breaks the silence, gladly you look up wanting to get the conversation over with.

“i’m fine, sir.” you reply amiably.

“that’s good to hear.” he mutters. there was also something weird about the tone of his voice, he kept quiet after as if reliantly expecting a reply from you. but you don’t so he speaks up again.

“you’ve been asleep for almost two weeks, some of us have feared you might never wake up again.” he claims.

“glad that’s not the case for me sir.” you respond.

“yes, god was kind to you that night. the bullet missed any vital organs but you bled out, too much i might add.” he conveys as if it’s something humorous, you notice a slight tugging at the corner of his lips.

“yeah, that was really lucky.” you agree with him.

this needs to end. you could tell he was just being polite, his words were simply pleasantries as your employer. he might see this as a semblance of duty as your boss and maybe because he feels bad you took a bullet for him. emphasis on the “maybe”.

“i just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for me. getting me treated until i woke up. so..thank you. thank you for saving my life. i owe you for it.” you graciously thank him, thinking of every event that you might have to thank him for. just to lay the foundation before you say what you actually want to say.

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, his eyes not meeting yours. you don’t know what’s going in that pretty head of his but..was he ashamed? ashamed. that word associated with your boss tastes different on the tongue. no, he can’t be.

“um..in addition to what i just said, i think i might head home now. like you said i’ve been gone for two weeks, my family’s probably going crazy worried about how i am right now. plus i think i got the wound covered, thank you for your hospitality.” you state to him in a gentle way, careful not to let your tone insult him in some way.

your effort to hide your weariness to achieve that polite demeanor in front him somehow fails, because after you said that the marquis looks back at you again and doesn’t say anything. was there something wrong with what i said?

he stares at you and doesn’t reply, he suddenly gets on his feet and walks to the larged illuminated window in the room. you follow your eyes on his frame, you’d assumed that he might’ve just agreed with you and left. you thought his visit was a mere courtesy so why had he stopped talking?

“sir?” you call out to him, the ticking on the clock appearing more dire than before. the same feeling you got during the car ride to the louvre two years ago, surges back to you.

but silence greets you.

“did you hear what i said?” growing more anxious by the second, you try a firm approach. still you were apprehensive on what he might have to say.

but no words answer you.

“is there something wrong with what i said?” you question, your tone laced with worry. this is bad. a quiet marquis is a pondering marquis. whatever thought he’s got cooked up was never good.

“you cannot.” he declares.

finally he answered, although not what you wished to hear.

“why? is there something wrong with me?” you firmly ask.

“sir?” you add, then the silent treatment flows into the room again. he stays quiet while you prod him with questions.

“it’s not…safe.” he states.

“for…who? for you or for them?” you reflect, someone might be out for his death right now, and perhaps torturing the assistant might get the required information they need, it’s also a possibility the marquis has sent out a bloodbath. it’s happened before and the times it occurred you’ve opted to reside a few hours in the manor, also to prevent being tortured for information, repercussions are still plausible. retaliation was always in mind.

“it’s not safe for you.” he faces you, the statement was like moisture on a window, blurry and murky. difficult to see what’s through.

your mouth falls open, “what? it’s you they were aiming for, not me. they wanted to kill you. it was you they wanted to shoot. you were the target. i honestly don’t think they’d go after the assistant to finish the job. right?” you begin to ramble.

“yes, you’re right. they wouldn’t.” he disclosed to you, “i know that bullet was intended for me, the man was supposed to shoot me. god knows i know.” he whispers.

“and look what happened to you. what they..did to you.” he says as he slowly walks towards you. “you…you weren’t supposed to get hurt. i don’t think i can forgive myself for that.” he says softly as he looks back at you.

everything in your body shuts down. what the fuck is happening? you remember the concern he had when he cradled you into his arms, assuming it was because he’d seen you as a work friend that’s really helpful to him. even if he could easily replace you with a few seconds whether you were alive or dead. but this? what was he saying? this is different. it doesn’t feel right but it’s happening.

it all starts to dawn upon you. the fancy bedroom. he wanted me to be comfortable, even if the selection of people he would’ve accepted to stay were little to none. the lemon water. he visited me while i was recovering, he sat by my bed waiting for me to wake up. what he called you that night while you bled on the pavement, on his arms.

“you’ll be okay, mon amour. hold on for a little, it will be safe for you soon. you will live.”

mon amour.

my love.

he called you his love that night.

you realize.

he leans down in front of you, you lean back from your realization. more questions are popping into your head, so many you want to ask but nothing leaves your throat. you look up at him and he’s been doing the same, looking into your eyes. you can see the regret,concern and affection that’s festering in his eyes.

“you’re right. it was meant for me, but you had it instead. you…you took a bullet for me. who does that for someone? how many people in the world can say that they’ve taken a bullet for me? one. there’s only one. and she’s sitting right in front of me.” he divulges to you, he says it like he’s been keeping it for thousands of years while he kept his mouth shut in anguish, like he was itching to confess to you the tender words as if they were the most sacred secrets known to man.

as if the words kept him trapped in a prison with no way out, but now he’d said it and he was free.

you were shocked. too speechless to say anything. this might be the most difficult thing to process so far into your life,that your boss is fostering affection for you, because you took a bullet for him.

“believe it or not, mon amour. you’ve become more precious to me than anything this life has to offer, i want to keep you safe and right now the only way is to keep you here.” with him he firmly states to you with affection and devotion which you could sense in his tone.

you wanted to object but he continued.

“for a while, until you regain your strength. do you understand, mon coeur?”

mon coeur.

a french endearment.

my heart.

he called you his heart.

author’s note: first time posting a fic that isn’t a bunch of headcanons, with this being posted the upcoming fics may vary from the reader’s pov or the marquis’. this took me at least three days and a cold to finish, (no regrets) but how come part two took three days but part three, a whole nighter?? ;) the next one’s a bit interesting. feel free to share your thoughts!

part one part 3 part four part five

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re

[skars-bill-gard]

Little Do You Know

A/N: This little one-shot is based off of the song Little Do You Know by Alex & Sierra. 

Word Count: 565

Warnings: Slight angst, errors

When you first started dating it was fantastic. He was the first healthy relationship you had and you fell hard. He was charming, funny, gorgeous and a gentleman; everything you ever wanted. You loved him and you knew you always would. After he told you he loved you, you thought your heart would explode. At that time, you told him that you could look past almost anything but infidelity was one thing that you couldn’t. Suddenly that awful day came to mind again.

“Babe. Please sit down, we have to talk.” Bill said as you walked through the door after a day of shopping with friends. His tone had you worried you took a seat across from him in the recliner.  

“What’s wrong?” You asked, worried.

“When I was filming,” He said taking a deep breath looking like he was about to cry. “I got really drunk and I made a mistake.”

You knew what going to come out of his mouth and every part of you didn’t want to hear it but you needed confirmation. Tears began to form knowing what he was about to tell you was going to break your heart into a million pieces.

“I was really drunk and I took someone back to the hotel with me. It didn’t mean anything, I swear it didn’t. I love you. You know that. I’m so sorry. I’ve been wrestling with myself on how to tell you or if I should tell you at all.” He explained while tears rolled down his cheeks.

You wanted to say something but the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you. It felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. Instead of saying anything you walked upstairs with your bags and went into the room you shared, shutting the door and locking it. You dropped everything by the door and went the bed where you began to sob. You knew he could hear you but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to look at him and couldn't think of anything to say to him either.

“(Y/N), please let me in. Let me fix this.” Bill said with tears in his voice; little did he know, there may not be a way to fix this.

Now you lay next to him in bed three months later and you still didn’t trust him. You didn’t quite believe that he wouldn’t do it again. Sometimes at night while he was asleep next to you or snuggled against you, you would think about it and it broke your heart every single time but you loved him so you stayed. Little does he know that it still kills you. Little does he know that you still wonder why. Little does he know it still breaks your heart that he spent the night with her.

He did everything he could to get you to trust him again but you still didn’t and you weren’t sure if you ever would. Little did you know, he knew you still thought about that day. He would do whatever it takes to make you forget it. Those nights when you cried because of it still, he would spoon you and you would think it was him just grabbing you in his sleep but it was always on purpose. He’ll wait as long as you need for you to forgive him. You're everything to him.

Maybe just maybe you could forgive him one day.

[interestsinarmor]

ROMAN GODFREY//REDBONE

{SMUT}

They've always warned me about a full moon. Whatever usually roams in the freedom of a dark night becomes illuminated by the most important celestial body. This town hold more in the dark than light, unraveling with each wax and wane.

Curiosity bit. An inexplicable lust led me to the dark depths of the woods, with only moonlight as guidance. Bare feet gripped around the torn leaves and coarse dirt. I couldn't describe the pull the woods had on me.

Scent guided me as my eyes adjusted to the low light of night. Through the brush and leaves I was able to see the luminous orb granting me navigation. Deep inhalation allowed me to breath in the spirit of the forest.

I felt connected. Nothing but bare flesh and cloth adorned my body, ready to be intertwined in the most spiritual way.

Cigarette smoke pricked the innermost part of my nose as my connection to nature was disrupted.

As if a warning, the smoke smell was followed by the eerie rustle of leaves. Removing myself from only my senses, I came back to reality and examined my surroundings.

As I reacted, so did the rustling. My movement prompted a calculation, a reaction from the being stalking me like prey. Something had their eye on me, and it wasn't just the moon.

My body subtly twisted to accommodate more peripheral vision. Careful not to make sound, my feet swiftly lifted from the ground as I adjusted my footing.

It grew closer.

The rustling soon became the sound of desperation. Inching closer in a feverish state.

I stood there in the flesh. My only comfort was the nature surrounding me. My linen dress not only clung but flew with the gentle night's air. I felt my pulse in every inch of my body while I froze.

Thick nails with a rough grip made contact with the contrasting softness of my skin. Each fingertip dug deeper into my sides as two hands make forceful connection with my hips.

My eyes burned with the harsh smoke blown into my face. Leaning back into the figure that holds me, I made eye contact with Roman. I began to melt into him as he continued to grab my hips from behind.

I felt the mild heat of his cigarette in his left hand. With the release of his grip, he took a slow drag, once again blowing the cigarette smoke.

"I could smell you from afar," I burned through my blasé veneer as my heart thumps with anticipation, sending blood and heat to my cheeks.

His hand travels from my hip, roughly caressing my side as he landed at my chest. Through the soft fabric he pinched my soft nipple before gripping onto my jaw.

"I could smell you too," He spoke with an endearing stillness. He took a chunk of my hair and tugged, forcing my gaze upwards towards him.

Behind me he stood, pressing his pelvis against my back. The height difference between us gave in to some misalignment, so extended myself to the highest extent to reach his lips.

He gave into my subliminal demands, reaching lower to brush against my mouth. His fingers still intertwined with my hair, I grabbed at Roman behind me as I began slowly rubbing his thighs.

The cigarette remained lit and Roman broke our kiss. My lips closed out of confusion. He looked directly at my mouth, parting them with a cigarette, as if to ask me to take a drag.

Each inhalation produces a thin cloud of smoke engulfing us. His strong hands release and attach between each of my breaths. Making note of the barrier, Romans hands broke from my hair and traveled to their original destination, this time following skin.

Soft pricks of cold air and Romans warm hands send shivers down my spine while he caressed his way up my dress.

Soft chuckles escaped from Roman as I leaned further into him, letting the cigarette and forests air take me in.

I took one last drag only to utter, "Blow Me,"

"If you say so, y/n,"

He dropped the cigarette, extinguishing it with the rough twist of his foot against the brush filled forests grass.

Having both hands free, the same cool breeze that surround me emerged as Roman lifted my fragile dress. With each inch he traveled, the more desperate his touch grew.

He stood behind me, his hands dropped from my hips as I felt his breath travel down my backside.

Firm kisses where planted along my thigh while Roman begged on his knees. Soft whimpers reverberated against the soft flesh of my skin. Sloppy bites and tongue swirls trailed along m.

His merciless fingers tugged at my panties.

With deep inhalation, his satisfied tongue started at my knee and trailed up, countering the downward pull of my underwear.

Mid-thigh, his tongue was pricked with the translucent, deep red fluid dripping from between my legs. His curiosity didn't stop. He latched onto my clit, hands rubbed my sensitive thighs.

Tongue laps and feverish sucking made me roll my head back. The excruciating bliss was countered with gripping fingers and rough strokes. Roman ensured there wasn't a single angle my core wasn't attacked from.

Wetness grew and spread down my legs as my blood, body and moonlight engulfed Roman.

Shamlessly he lapped my thighs and core to clean up any remaining blood. He showed no remorse for leaving me shaking.

Unabashedly, I gripped a handful of Romans hair and arched as far back as my body took me. I rolled back to bask in the moons light.

Gentle breezes and primal waves of pleasure passed my body as an ache grew and tensed in my stomach. Roman took notice.

Pulsation increased while he continued to milk me for every last drop. The mixture of my blood, wetness and saliva created a pleasurably slick veneer, gliding his tongue from my opening to clit.

After a few laps around my folds, he focused in, sucking and moaning against me.

My body gave in and melted in ecstasy.

The orgasmic release vibrated against Roman's lips as I unfolded. His tongue continued to work me until the sensitivity became unbearable. Roman's once demanding licks grew into soft brushes against my clit and I came down from his induced high.

I descended back into my body, ceasing to float in pleasure. While my hands untangled from his hair, I looked down to reveal his satisfactory smirk, covered in my blood and wetness.

"You look nice with my cum on your face, Rome,"

A gentle smile spread across his face, kneeling below me.

He released his grip from my thigh to spread around the fluid on his face, taking a quick swipe in his mouth to taste what I had brought upon him.

"It'd look even better on my cock, y/n,"

[whorefortoxic]

[SMUT] WARM HONEY ✧ Willard Russel

Song Inspo

Word Count ✧ 2.2k

Warnings ✧ SMUT, religion, daddy issues.

Authors Note ✧ My favorite thing I've written yet- This is how I imagine fucking Jesus is.

---

Warm and sticky summers were the staple of the South. Light breezes were an occasional treat as the humidity absorbed the land. A hot day like this left everyone to their own devices, struggling to stay cool.

Seeking refuge wasn't easy, but faith was where I was drawn. Going to the church on a blistering day like this almost insured I'd be left to pray in peace.

The gritty gravel and rocks croaked behind me as I thumped across the dirt road. Soft brush and trees passed as I extended my hand for a feel. I unconsciously picked off stray branches and leaves with each traveling footstep.

I wasn't far from the church, just secluded among a hidden path. A journey rarely taken. The distinguished tatters of the ivory church stood strong as the brush cleared to reveal a sprawling plain.

Weathering and decades of use had been apparent. With the worn paint and broken shutters, the church had clearly been shown some love. Rough love.

As I got closer, my steps became lighter and I transitioned onto the soft pads of grass surrounding the church. Flies buzzes and clamored as the essence of nature leaked from the torn building.

Rough wooden doors hung steady on the frail structure. Creaks greeted each of my steps, nearing the doorframe. Almost as if to communicate, the church creaked behind the doors in response to my presence.

Pushing past the labored door, a rush of sunlight and dust kissed my skin, descending from above. Stillness consumed me. Tattered pews and worn bibles adorned the quaint church.

A tall figure sat in the front pew, closest to the wall, farthest from the door. I walked further, bringing awareness to my steps. He didn't seem to break away from his spiritital state.

Tall, calloused, regretfully handsome, deeply entrenched in prayer with his fingers tightly laced together. Mumbling escaped his lips as he repeated phrases and muscles strained as he tightened his hands together as if to amplify the prayer.

I created swift steps nearing the pew. A soft creak draws the man away from himself, averting his eyes to me. I draw back at his recognition.

"Sorry, I- din' been to disturb you," I fumble through my brain looking for an excuse.

"That's alrigh', guess we're both looking for a place to release," A shy smile spreads across his face as he almost sinks into the monotony of small talk. He looks weathered, like the building he resides in. A man of hard work and little gain. Looking for a place to escape.

I place myself against the side of the pew, careful not to evade his bubble of peace while still basking in his beautiful presence. He began to lower his gaze and smile. A smile not formed out of routine, but out of intrigue.

His fingers release from prayer, beginning to run across his coarse cotton pants.

I examine his self soothing techniques with a naive curiosity. He begins to chuckle at recognition of my allure.

"I ain't seen you come to service before," My words break the stillness in the air, releasing more dust from the pockets and grooves of the pews.

"I ain't have a reason to go, til now," His smile faded as his hands smoothed his loose locks of hair.

"Feelin' down?"

His breath hitched, as if to make a grave confession, "My wife passed an' I don't know how to grieve,"

Thick tension pasted into the air. Not only had I invaded his space, I tore this man to a confession.

"I shouldn'ta came. You mourn," In a mere whisper I spat my words out.

"Don' let me stop you from usin' this church how you like," His smile reemerged as he looked up from his deepened gaze.

"How'd you use it?"

"See, I still feel this love, n' it has no where to go," Through a dry throat he laments, unable to reconcile with his feelings, "So I pray, to use the adoration that I still got,"

"Any children to help?"

"A few, n' they do their job," He chuckled, "But I mean a different typa' love darlin',"

While straddling the pews armrest, I begin to shift my weight into a proper seat. Clearing the way to sit, I moved a bible from the pew, perching it between myself and this captivating man.

"You said yous' here to release," I sit on my hands and elevate my posture, "Release what 'xactly?"

"The guilt of my desire, love," The husk of his voice reached my ears with sheer pleasure.

"An' how should we release this guilt," I perked up at the thought of a resolution.

"In the most primal way," His eyes were drawn to my lips, examining each twitch.

My gentle blue dress became my biggest obstacle. Starting with the shoulders, I began to remove the cloth from my body. The sun pricked and glowed against my newly revealed skin.

He was slightly quartered towards me, careful not to breech my personal bubble. There was an inner battle he needed to fight before fully giving in. This is just a step in his healing process.

I wholly exposed my chest as my dress clung to my hips. I lifted myself up from the seat to gently drop the garment on the floor. The feeling of the dress at my feet and air against my bare skin. My only barrier was the thin cotton of my panties against the church pew.

"Are ya' gonna touch me?" Anticipation rose with the crack in my voice.

His knees shifted towards me, gaze remaining low as his eyes refused to lock with mine. The feverish unbuttoning of his off-white button up grew quick as he quickly broke free from his shirt.

I lean back onto the wooden pew, allowing my hands to wander my body as the unclasping of a belt stirred my desire.

"You think God likes watching?"

"If he is, we better do it on his terms," He moved closer on the pew, hooking his hand on the back of my thigh. He guided my legs to sit on the pew, spread for him. The bible was perched in the arch of my back.

"I need you closer," He moaned, guiding my butt forward and he placed the bible below my pelvis for elevation.

"Now we're really fucking on God's terms,"

Stripped to our undergarments, I laid on the bench with his body between my legs. His soft fingers began a strong pulse against my clothed core.

He diligently slid my panties to the side as he began working my inner-most nerves.

His firm thumb created circles, sending rushes and peaks of pleasure as he hit the crest of my clit. Soft and beguiling moans were muffled behind his smooth lips. Rough callouses pressed against my warm thighs as he continued to work me.

"What else are you willin' to release?" I rise from my strewn position, meeting his eye line, "The rest of your clothes, maybe?"

His eyes brightened at my response. Feverishly his worn shirt was removed from his labored frame. Each curve and divot of muscle on his body showed the years of hard work he endured. I was eager to relieve any stress his body still held.

The darkening of his eyes indicated the deeply buried lust coming to the surface. He wanted to please as much as he needed to be touched himself. Years of unmet desires becoming untamable.

His thin briefs gathered below his ankles, disrupting the dust from the floorboards. We were trapped in our own bubble of breathless whimpers and lust.

The back of my knees held steady against the seat of the pew as he stood in front of me. Every inch of this man unwinded in front of me, his hands softly grazed my cheek before intertwining with my slicked strands of hair.

My wet tongue met his exposed cock, exploring and tasting before fully divulging. My hunger grew as the sweet mix of his scent and precum hit each bud in my mouth.

My head instinctively bobbed to follow the curve, his soft head hitting the back of my throat til the base of his cock stroked my lips. I felt completely full, unable to get a life bringing breath into my lungs. The only thing I felt was him. The complete feeling of the suction in my mouth and hollowed out cheeks perfectly stretched around his large cock.

I could tell he was holding back moans. As I slid across his lubricated shaft, the head of his cock released from my mouth with a soft pop sound. He ran the sensitive tip across my pursed lips, feeling my warmth engulf him. As my lips followed the natural curve, his head rolled back as waves of pleasure built from his abdomen to the tip.

Spit gathered between my teeth and tongue as I desperately tried to gather the wetness onto him. Primal gasps and pleads came from my diaphragm as he pressed his hard cock to the very back of my throat. My nose hit his lower V line while my legs forcefully pressed against the pew, conforming to the movement he created with his thrusts.

Friction grew between my legs as his body pressure against mine allowed my clit to brush against the rough wooden pew.

I dipped my head away from his cock, releasing a string of saliva connecting us together.

"I want to see how much of you I can take," My uncertainty grew while my hands stroked his length. I began to see how large he was, with bulging veins as a thick tip. I wasn't sure all of him could fit in me, let alone ribbons of his sweet cum.

He gently ran his hands through my hair while I still sat below him. A few strokes of his cock seemed to satisfy as we adjusted to a new position.

I shifted by putting my dangling legs up on the pew, bible perched below my waist for elevation. The weight of his strong body made the pews shake as he fully kneeled by me. I hung my legs in the air so he could chose where to place me.

A sharp sting grew across my back as he grabbed hold of my thighs to drag and bring my wetness to him. He examines me closely, letting a string of saliva drip from his mouth to my clit. A weathered thumb roughly rubs the saliva into my skin. I can feel each ridge of his fingerprint against my core as the movements bring shocks to my body.

He continues to rub my clit til an unfamiliar tingle grows, my demure moans and strained gasps harden his cock.

"Whine for me, whine like you need it," The growl in his voice intensified the burst of flames I felt.

"I need you inside me,"

He took a second to place his large thumb from the top of my clit, sliding down to my opening. He pushes past my resistance as my walls clench and grow to accommodate his finger.

I feel a blissful pressure inside my pussy while I struggle to take part of him. I cry at the mercy of his fingers.

"You're about to get 'lot more than this, love" The harsh brush of the head of his cock against my clit was in no comparison to it ripping through my walls.

While on the pew, I laid on my side as he held my one leg in the air. The bible was below me, giving me elevation and a better angle to deepen his shaft.

He gently took each thrust in by an inch, growing and growing.

I struggled to take the pain while he pushed further inside me. My ache was unbearable, so he took his thumb again against my clit to relieve the pressure.

My silence left dead air for him to fill with his gentle whimpers of absolute desperation.

My warmth was giving him everything he needed. The pain was worth the absolute bliss across this mans face as the harsh thrusts strained my pussy, and bound his cock.

He had a hard time thrusting in and out as my tightness kept him inside me til his thumb milked my clit to release.

Just when I thought he couldn't push further, I look down to see half of himself buried in me. The abuse taken fused with the euphoria. He couldn't push himself any farther in me despite his attempt. Deep and relentless thrusts were unsuccessful as he had a hard time removing or fucking me further.

"Open wider so I can get it all in," He spoke less as if it was a suggestion, more a command.

My back went from laying on my side, to flat against the pew. Both my legs were as spread apart as possible. When I opened wider, we watched in amazement as more of his cock disappeared down inside.

"Good girl,"

Every inch filled me to the brim. I felt the hardness of his chiseled pelvis hit my clit while his entire cock began pulsating deep.

This moment of accomplishment was well deserved. Each minor thrust painfully stretched me at the expense of this mans pleasure.

He didn't dare slip a single inch of himself out of me in fear it wouldn't fit as perfect as it does now. Minor thrusts take place, burying a thick layer of cum within my walls.

A deep, guttural moan whimpered through this mans perfect lips. His hands gripped my thighs like he was afraid of losing me.

Pumps of his warm cum were too much for my pussy to handle as it dripped down his shaft and onto the bible below me.

He chuckles while looking at our mess, realizing we desecrated a holy space.

"Tainted by the devil, but dripping from the heavens,"

[starshipsofstarlord]

Vargulf |Roman Godfrey

Summary: There have been another set of murders in Hemlock Grove and all the evidence is pointing to it being another vargulf. Your brother Peter, your boyfriend Roman and yourself are all on the hunt for it so that the deaths come to a stop.

-

You listened quietly, sat on the sofa in your little old caravan as Peter and Roman spoke. There had been deaths, a dozen or so. They were murders, of boys and men. None of them seemed to have a strong link that connected them. Death wasn’t unusual in Hemlock Grove, but most of this evidence wasn’t adding up.

“It’s a fucking vargulf, I'm telling you man." Roman was clearly stressed about the situation, they had already dealt with one sick werewolf. And now another was ripping male anatomy off, letting them bleed to death. It couldn’t have been more inhumane. 

"Shee-it, I think you're right." Peter raked his hands through his hair. Christina had became a werewolf because of him, and now someone else decided to proceed with the transformation. It was always a risk for a newcomer into wolf territory, they had already been sick enough to turn themselves into a monster.

You frowned. Christina had been a nice girl, and it made you think that this new Vargulf could be disguised as anyone. "How are we supposed to find it?" You hated the thought of having to search for a blood thirsty monster, but it would be the only way to stop it.

“Bait.” Roman answered, coming to sit down beside you. Peter only shook his head in thought.

“We can’t do that, at least not yet. We don’t know why it’s targeting these guys.” Roman only smirked, and then commented.

“Then we’ll just have to find a way to piss it off.” That would be difficult, seeing as none of you knew who it was, but Roman did a pretty good job naturally at annoying people. His rich boy attitude got to everyone.

“Great idea, and then you’ll get killed.” You said, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. “Maybe it’s after revenge of some sort, it might know the victims.”

“Well there’s a wide gap between all of them, so we can’t be certain.”

…..

Destiny stiffened from where she stood leaning over the table that held a newspaper. The paper detailed all of the recent deaths, the ones the assumed vargulf had committed. She looked at Roman in particular. 

"Can you clear your mind Godfrey, your thoughts are distracting." This only built confusion in Peter's mind. How could ones thoughts be that loud. "

“What's he thinking about?" Your brother asked, opening his blue eyes to look at Destiny. It was bugging her enough to implement her magic.

“You don’t want to know.” As she said that she looked in between of you and Roman.  His imagination was very vivid, too much for her liking. It was creating a barrier in the room so that she couldn't access the things that the pair of boys had missed in their freaky dreams.

 "Is it relevant?" Peter held out hope. They couldn't miss a trick, even if it was of the mind. There could be a clue, a detail of aid, something that could point them in the right direction to search.

 "No." Destiny cringed, not being able to help seeing Roman's desire to have his hands all over your body. You were her cousin, she didn't want to see the intimacy that was strung between you and your boyfriend. That was for you too alone, but it was Godfrey's fault for keeping it replaying in his mind.

 She knew she'd regret it, but she searched as Peter had wanted her to. And then she saw it, on your naked body. Roman clearly hadn't noticed it, his mind was too preoccupied with the thought of fucking you. But there was a scratch, running down your side. It looked as though it was given by another wolf, a viscous one that had turned on its own kind. 

“Maybe.” Then your cousin turned, looking at you. “Lift your shirt.” When you hesitated, she did it for you, seeing the mark against your skin.

As she looked, so did you and the others. It was a wound, thinly dug into the skin but still there.

"What happened?" Roman asked quietly. He really hadn't even noticed it when he had been thinking about the nudeness of your body bit now his eyes were trained on it.

"I don't remember." You frowned.

Peter came closer, inspecting gashes in your skin. They weren't just cuts, they were claw marks.

The vargulf did this. It had to be it.

…..

It was a dead end. It all was. The pattern was broken for there was another body, and it was a girl. The first girl to have fallen victim to the vargulf.

Peter throws the newspaper onto the coffee table, Roman staring at it with beady eyes.

It held no answers, it only threw you all further off track. Perhaps there were no answers. Maybe it just wanted to drain the blood from the humans by clawing at their necks.

"This doesn't make any sense!" Your boyfriend exclaimed, reaching into his coat pocket for a cigarette and a lighter.

He lit it, taking a deep drag to calm himself. You wished it was that easy for you, but it really wasn't.

"When does anything make sense in this town?" You asked rhetorically.

Although you werent seeking a counter response, you received one from your brother anyway.

"Go on." He gestured with both his voice and hand, taking a cigarette from Roman.

"Maybe it isn't supposed to make sense." You suggested, snagging a cigarette. You refrained from lighting it until your point got a cross. "I mean Christina killed because of different emotions. She was sick, and angry at her so called friends, and jealous of Letha. Perhaps this is the same."

The mention of Letha Godfrey dulled the room, but opened a chance for some optimism in the case.

For all any of you knew, you were right. There was a murderer, but it's intentions were not clear yet.

…..

Shelley aimlessly wandered her family's grounds, admiring the beauty in nature. The roses were just beginning to bloom from the bushes, their frames hardened by the sight of protective thorns.

Out here, away from the world, it was quiet. Peaceful. There was no one to make judgements about her, or a reason to feel insecure. Like the roses, Shelley's appearance was toughened by thorns. No one liked the spiteful pricks but they tolerated them for the flower.

The girl continued to walk, but stopped once she had a twig snap. The sound was not the doing of either of her large feet.

Looking up, she saw a beast she had ran from before. A white wolf, watching her with its yellow eyes.

It was truly beautiful, but danger poisoned its aura. The animal tilted its furred head, licking its black lips before trotting through the hedges, presumably returning to its den in the woods.

Once it was gone, she went inside of her imprisoning home, rushing to the kitchen, the private one where her mother was smoking a cigarette.

"There was a wolf in the garden." She typed out, allowing the machine to talk for her.

Olivia hummed in reply, flicking the ash from the tip of the fag.

"It is a wild animal dear." Her voice was clear. "Let it do what it must to survive, even if it means crossing out land in the meanwhile."

This confused Shelley. Any other time, her mother would have called in a hunter to shoot the pest dead.

But not this time.

…..

A man rapped his fingers against the door of Godfrey manor, well aware of the badge that was tucked in his pocket. In response to his knocking a woman came to the door,slinking her slim and long frame upon the case of the doorway.

Olivia Godfrey. He had heard of this woman. Fierce. Beautiful. Enticing. Extremely wealthy. Dangerous.

There had been whispers in the woodwork of the town of her being the cause of missing persons. It seemed absurd to suspect a widow of such horrors, but she was not just a mourning wife.

She was a mother, not only to her children but to an extraordinarily large company. It was known as the white tower, but it held no purity in its blank walls. Only secrets in hidden rooms and a whole team serving away at her whim of command.

The front door opened, revealing a middle aged woman, glorified in a lacy black dress, unashamed of how she appeared to the stranger. Olivia could see his badge that was attached to his belt. It was clear that she had glanced at it, but she brushed her hair away from down the front of her shoulder and focused back on his face.

“What can I do you for officer?” She was suspicious of his presence, she leant against the door, making sure he was unable to peak inside of her home. But at the same time, she could not be seen as the villain. She had done nothing wrong anyway, or had Olivia had some involvement?

“As I’m sure, you have heard of the recent deaths.” Olivia’s cheeks hollowed and her arm trailed down her body and pulled the skirt of her dress down.

“Such a shame.” She admitted she had, shaking her head in pity. The investigator nodded his head in agreement, having felt the loss of the young lives when going over each piece of evidence of the victims.

“There has been word of people seeing a white wolf - again. You haven’t happened to see it prowling your grounds by chance, have you?”

Olivia furrowed her brow, thinking tentatively. “I can’t say that I have.” She answered, watching as hope fell from the stranger’s face.

“Would you call the station if you hear anything? As soon as we get a sighting, we’re going to put a bullet through the beast.” It almost sounded like a threat in Olivia’s eyes, but she knew it wasn’t. This man was scared of the dangers that hunted in nature, and was now creeping into the town and murdering humans.

“Of course I will.” She smiled at him, Once he turned and began walking away from her house, she shut the door, peaking through a window before returning to her guest, “Where were we?”

She discarded of her robe, as Norman sat on the couch, with a glass of scotch in his condemning hands.

Shelley lightly stepped back up the stairs, confused by her mother’s truth. Only mere hours prior she had told her mother of what she had seen in their large garden. A wolf had been looking at her, and then ran back off into whence it came. The woods.

Olivia had lied. But why?

….

A young man lay on the metal table, with ambient lights reflecting down onto his fatal wounds. Price took note of the individual teeth marks that were visible in his skin. He had heard of werewolves, via Olivia, who had told him of the pest that Peter was.

He was fine, examining the body in complete silence, other than his recorded points, but he shouldn’t have expected it to last. At least not in the Godfrey Tower.

The door to the private space was slammed open, by none other than the heir of the company himself. Roman. He had no regard for manners, Price thought. He did as he pleased, although he wasn't inherently to blame for that, he was raised under a roof where he was taught that was acceptable. 

“Is that the last victim?” Roman had to ask, he could never be sure with Price’s experiments. 

“You shouldn’t be here Roman.” His voice was monotone, unsurprised from the boy’s intrusion. It definitely wasn’t the first time that he had just waltzed into his workspace, that was for sure. Price sighed, looking at the teenager who was peering at the large bitemarks in the corpse. “Why are you here, did your mother send you?”

“No, I need answers.” He only earnt a shake of the head from the scientist.

“This matter is confidential Roman, I can’t tell you anything.” It was a part of the code that he had taken. This was business elevated in the roles of silence, and he wasn’t supposed to share the details that he had found or would find.

“Please.” It was a foreign word for him. “If that thing is out there, and it is a vargulf, the cops aren’t going to know how to stop it. But me and Peter can, so if you discover anything that could remotely help, you have my number.”

A knock came on the door. “Sir, there’s an officer here to see you.”

Price turned to Roman, looking at him with nervous eyes. “It’d be best if you left Roman, we don’t want you getting yourself into any further trouble.”

Huffing, Roman took one more glance at the body, sporting a disgusted expression as he did so. He was eager to find this mutated, sick werewolf and end it, not only for his family’s safety, but for the creature’s own mercy.

…..

Roman walked through his door way into his bedroom, throwing his black coat to the floor. But when he looked up his bed wasn’t empty, you were seated on it, sporting one of his shirts and a worried expression.

“Where were you?” You stood, slowly gliding over to him, reaching up to cup his face. He was visibly tense, it was easy to see that his back wasn’t completely straight and his cheeks were puffed out from his vigorous breathing.

“Went to see Price, who is fucking useless like usual.” He went and sat on his bed, which you joined him on, stroking his tense shoulders. “He’s not even paying mind that it's a vargulf, how fucking dumb can one person be?”

“Maybe he doesn’t want you involved, because if you go headfirst into this mess, there’s a chance that Shelley will be pulled into it eventually as well. He cares about her, and in his own, silent way, about you too.”

Roman let the corners of his plump lips turn up at your words. “You really do know how to cheer a guy up, don’t you?”

At that you smirked, leaning closer to his porcelain ear, whispering into the suggestive canal. “Honey, there’s plenty of ways that I can cheer you up.” You tugged his earlobe between your teeth, prompting a growl to spark from his mouth.

“Get to it then Romaneck.” You shoved his shoulders from the front so that you had room to straddle the tall boy.

“Gladly.”

…..

When you awoke, Roman was still asleep, softly snoring into the pillow whilst his nude body was covered by the white duvet. It brought a smile to your face to see him so relaxed, with the vargulf on the loose, he was stressing again. He thought he had to find it, that it was his responsibility to keep the whole town safe from any mythical threats.

But it wasn’t. He deserved to be a teenager, have no worries about the fact that you lived in a mobile home in the middle of the woods, or the fact that one day someone would try to hurt you or use you for what you were.

Groggily, you got up, making sure that Roman was still covered so that the cold wouldn’t wake him up. You went to the bathroom attached to his bedroom to brush your teeth, but you paused that thought as you  looked into the mirror to see a part of you had somewhat aged.

A streak of white was in front of your face, it was a large section of your hair. This needn’t have worried Roman, and so you manoeuvred yourself out of his room quietly as to not wake him, and hurried down to the kitchen where you were met with the woman of the household sat, stirring her tea.

“Sweetie.” She gasped dramatically at seeing the strands. She stood walking towards you and taking the hair between her fingers. “We can fix this before anyone sees.” She reassures you, guiding you to the bathroom, grabbing a gold box from under the sink.

“Were you anticipating this?” You asked warily, watching as she emptied the (Y/H/C) dye into a small bowl.

“Of course I was, we have to delay this. You know what, after we sort this mess, I will arrange an appointment with Norman for you. He’ll help.”

She got a dye brush, and began combing the colour through your blank piece of hair.

To the both of your dismays, neither of you had heard Shelley coming down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was untimely, and unknown to the pair of you.

…..

The scientist gripped his tweezers, plucking the ounce of evidence from the body. From initial sight, he could tell that the lost hair that he had discovered was human, and the complete opposite colour from the dead boy’s. His actions were glorified through speech as he recorded his process, ending with a full stop to complete his sentence.

He would have to get it analysed, so that the owner could be uncovered, and the monster behind the murders revealed. Once he removed his gloves, he took a hold of his cell phone, and called someone that he felt indebted to.

“Roman, it’s Price.” That was his opener, quite simple for the information that he was about to reveal. “I found a human hair on the body, belonging to another that is not the victim. I’m getting it tested, I will let you know the result later, once it has been processed.”

As he put the phone down, the door to the room was opened, by none other than the wolf that walked upon the sheep. “Yohan.” She greeted him broadly, and so he replied just as dryly.

“Olivia.” His voice drawled out her name, unimpressed with her timing. A Godfrey always managed to show themselves at the worst times, perhaps it was on purpose. It was in the majority's nature to be filled with the thrill of darkness and deceit. 

“A little birdy told me that you found something on the body...” She didn’t clarify whom said snitch was, but she dragged her manicured hand along the counter, until she came to the see through bag that contained the single (Y/H/C) hair.

“Olivia, I cannot let you take that, it’s evidence.” He tried to reason with the woman, but he should have realised that that would have little to no affect.

Instead, she rose thin eyebrows at the man, and put her foot down with her ample excuse. “Is this not my company Price?” She used the power spell of control, and before he could divulge that her ownership only came through marriage, and that Norman and Roman were the true heirs, she was gone.

The evidence went with her.

…..

The site of the caravan was an alienated space to Olivia, yet she still walked through the dead leaves and mud in her heels, until she reached the hammock, which you so happened to be seated in.

“It is done (Y/N), and now you can continue working for me, and earn yourself a little money.” She sat beside you on it, making it sway. “This was never my intention, to get you sick, I told you that you could stop anytime little one.”

She stroked your hair, resting her head upon it stoically. It was a strange exchange of contact for her, but she found herself not minding it. “We can try and get treatment for you though, to either delay or erase the aftermath of your  forced transformations.”

At that you finally spoke up. “I don’t trust Price.” Yet somehow you trusted Olivia herself... “And that would be unnatural. Running off into the woods as a completely wild animal doesn’t sound so bad anyways, it would be like starting a new life and leaving this one behind.”

Your confession saddened her just a little. “If that is what you want, but I will tell you this now. I liked you the second that my son brought you in that door, you were better than any of those other girls that he dragged in for pleasure. He was enamoured with just the sight of you, sitting there at the kitchen table, thanking the butler and laughing with his sister.” 

That would be one thing that you knew that you would miss. Roman. And then also your brother, Peter. But they could survive without you, they were both strong. They had moved on from Letha, so they could do the same with you.

…..

Roman frowned when his phone call with Price ended. “It’s gone, our lead is no more.”

At his statement, Peter spoke up from where he was seated at Roman’s bedroom desk. “Surely it couldn’t just disappear.”

“It didn’t.” Was all Roman said before he stormed out of his room and began rushing down the stairs, to see his mother just walking in the front door. “You.” He accused her.

“Me?” She acted offended, placing a hand above her heart.

“You took the evidence of the vargulf.” Price had told him as much. The man had seen it with his own eyes, she couldn’t lie her way out of this one. Nothing said that she couldn’t dodge it though.

“It’s been pleasant to chat boys, but I have an appointment with your uncle.” And with that, she had retreated back through the front door.

Roman turned as he heard Shelley walking down the stairs, closest to Peter.

“Go back to your room Shells.” He sighed, annoyed with the fact that they had hit a dead end. But Shelley made no attempt to move, instead she took the tablet out in front of her.

“I’ve heard mother speak, I know who the vargulf is.” Both of their eyes went wide. Maybe they didn’t need to interrogate Olivia after all.

…..

The man in uniform, that had started his career on a peculiar case rapped his knuckles against the gypsy’s door. This far out into the woods, someone would have been bound to see something.

The line was still faded to whether it was a person or an animal. But he was determined to find the truth, because no matter what was at fault, people were still dying.

The door opened, revealing a teenager with stark white hair. “Can I help?” Your legs bounced as you leant against the door frame. Your body was itching to transform again.

“Are your parents in?” At that you shook your head, thinking about the fact that your father was no longer in the picture. That made Peter the man of the house, the dominant one. You’d show him...

“No, but is there anything I can do to help?”

The inspector got out his notepad, preparing to scribble on it with any information that he could extract from you. “Do you know anything about the deaths? Like, have you seen a wild animal lurking around or such?”

With that, you stepped away from the door, allowing him space to enter, to which he did. “I’ll tell you everything that I know.” You smiled.

Or maybe you could show him.

…..

Peter ran to his home after getting out of Roman’s car, seeing the inspector’s body mauled in the doorway, blood falling down the steps. But the body wasn’t alone, the wolf - you, were growling from inside the caravan, your newly white fur smeared with marks of red.

“(Y/N)?” Peter cautiously spoke. They had wanted to find the vargulf, but not like this. It was supposed to be someone else, not his sister.

You had no response to the name, but your head perked up at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

“Baby, it’s me. Roman.” He took a couple of strides forward, even though Peter had tried to pull him back. You tilted your furry head, slowly leaving the caravan and walking towards Roman. “Hey, it’s okay.” He told you, and you sniffed his hand, nudging it with your wet nose. “We can get you help, fix you.”

Roman pretended that he wasn’t crying, and went to kneel down in front of you, but Peter stopped him, triggering backlash from you. He had grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him up, and in a quick motion, you bit Peter’s hand.

Blood was drawn, and you were spooked, and so you did the only thing your wild mind though to do. Run, deep into the forest, away from the pests that thought that they could treat you like a domesticated animal.