#and paint my entire room bright orange again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlight-prose · 2 months ago

Text

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

#silco x f!reader #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n #silco arcane #silco #arcane fic #my writing

127 notes · View notes

manicpixiedreamcurl · 1 year ago

Text

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings | 18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights.

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers-

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips.

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.”

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.”

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?”

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.”

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first.

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints.

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.”

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.”

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!”

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans.

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!”

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!”

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck.

“Uh, hi girls.”

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic.

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!”

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists.

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.”

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks.

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high.

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again.

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!”

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.”

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod.

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile.

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you.

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,”

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines.

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach.

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.”

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?”

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.”

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?”

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play.

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you.

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout.

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face.

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager.

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right.

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.”

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?”

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different.

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.”

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?”

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come.

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat.

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.”

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy.

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.”

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.”

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with.

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats.

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me.

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you.

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper.

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue.

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder.

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?”

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!”

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed.

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator.

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.”

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now.

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.”

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.”

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress.

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead.

You like it like this.

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you.

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it.

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?”

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace.

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that.

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against.

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit.

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind.

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken.

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?”

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.”

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip.

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.”

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers. “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.”

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want.

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin.

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.”

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair.

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back.

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?”

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x shy!reader

228 notes · View notes

echantedtoon · 2 months ago

Text

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch19 Flashy Muse

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

@gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades

@yukari1k @bloodymarysgirl21

@artbyrebel @abaker74 @lunarluna9482

@rainbowidol

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

(Warnings by death mentioned.)

Tengen's legs carried him to the living room with such speed it startled everyone else inside. Only one person caught his interest however as f/c eyes turned to him surprised.

"YOU!!"

You jumped dropping the now empty paper bag as Tengen was suddenly looming over you with a focused, tense look in his eyes and his hands gently grabbed your cheeks.

"You're perfect. YOU'VE GOT TO BE MY NEXT MUSE!!"

The entire room was silent as everyone had turned to Tengen after hearing the yell he had put out. The only sounds to be heard was the TV still playing the comedy movie they had been watching and Suma and Mitsuri still chewing on the food you'd gifted them. They're cheeks both bloated out comically like a chipmunk as they did so.

...You blinked. "What?"

His smile was wide, bright, and lit up like a child who just discovered what Christmas was. "My muse!!" He clarified loudly before his hands proceeded to poke and pride your face turning it this way and that. "Those eyes! Those cheekbones! The color of your hair! It's exactly what I've been looking for! I just hadn't realized it until now!"

You closed one eye as his fingers pinched your cheek before shaking your head, hands coming up to bat his hands away from your face. "What are you talking about?"

"Paint you!" You blinked as he then grabbed your hands desperately holding them to his chest. "I want to paint you! I want you to model for my next painting!"

You blinked again quietly staring at his beaming expression before looking down at his chest where he pressed your hands against his biceps....A twinge of light embarrassed pink rushed to your face as f/c orbs looked away quickly. Don't remember that onsen scene. Do NOT think about the onsen incident-!!

"Well? Will you do it?!"

"U-Um...I-..Uh-"

Tengen hummed when a hand firmly grabbed onto his shoulder, looking around he came face to face with a wide smile and orange eyes. "I think you're coming on a little too strong, Ten." His eyes motioned to your flustered face. "Maybe wind back your enthusiasm a little bit."

"Kyo." Tengen looked at his boyfriend like he personally betrayed him. "You can't wait for perfection! Look at her!" One hand let go of your hand to motion to your face. "She's perfect! With a few weeks, I can paint her to look like a goddess-"

"A goddess that's going to make me late for my birthday party." Makio frowned at him. Arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

"She's right, Tengen. It'll be rude to make Makio's birthday about someone else." Rengoku agreed patting his boyfriend's back. "Besides Y/n should have a chance to decide whether or not she wants to pose for you. The choice is hers."

"Hmph!" You didn't think it'd be funny to see a six foot something man pout like a child, but Tengen pouted like a child. "Fine..But you'll think about it right?" He again smiled hopefully at you making you giggle despite yourself.

"I'll think about it but I make no promises."

"That's not a no!"

Makio groaned again before pushing her husband away from you. "Save it for after today. It's my day to shine."

There was a pause before Tengen smiled again but wider at Makio. "Of course. I didn't forget my Flamboyant wife's big day.~" Makio rolled her eyes but didn't stop him from picking up her hand and pressing kisses all the way up her arm until he kissed her forehead with a smile. "Do you want me to drive you to the mall, Baby?~"

"Nah. The bus is gonna be here any moment..." Tengen blinked as she was quick to press a kiss back to his lips. "But it's sweet of you to offer."

You giggled again as his face went a pink and he chuckled. "Well then you girls better get going. And don't worry about anything. Use my card to get whatever you want today."

"Just don't burn the house down while we're out. Mkay?"

Tengen grumbled. "I catch the stove on fire ONE time."

Despite it you giggled again at his antics, thankful for the help Kyojuro had given you. Making a mental note to thank him later you decided to bid your boyfriend good bye very quickly before your party was to depart. Following the group of girls out the door in time to catch the nine o'clock bus before it left with Tengen giving them all a good bye kids to their foreheads. His wives first followed by a giggling Mitsuri, the Kocho sisters, and then you bringing up the rest giving a wave good bye to the other men in the room before turning to say bye to Tengen- Only to suddenly freeze up as something pressed into your forehead that had everyone either gasping or freezing up as Tengen casually kissed your forehead.

Silence ensured for a little bit as everyone stood there, Tengen smiling away still.

"UZUI, YOU IDIOT!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Tengen turned to Sanemi's sudden angry and horrified expression with confusion.. Before it suddenly dawned on him on what he had done. "Shit- IM SO SORRY!!" He immediately looked horrified by what he did. Holding up his hands. "I just-... I-It's something I always do so I didn't realize that I'd-....I-I didn't mean to I swear. I'll get you some disinfectant wipes if you want!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" It was your turn to hold up your hands to him in an attempt to calm him down. "It's ok. It was an accident, and I'm not mad. You wouldn't have been the first guy to kiss me and it's not like you had bad intentions so-.." He blinked as you reached out to gently push his hands back down to his sides. "Don't fret about it. Ok?"

"I-" He blinked looking at his hands again before back to you. "Ok?"

"UGH!! You both can apologize later! I want to leave NOW!"

You helped as Makio firmly grabbed you by the arm and yanked you away towards the sidewalk along with everyone else with Mitsuri squealing and directing a hopeful smile to Tengen before they left. Again silence resumed between all the men before Gyomei's White orbs turned to Tengen.

"Did you just kiss my girlfriend?"

"I-IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I SWEAR!!"

**********************************

You were dragged out by Makio until Hinatsuru was nice enough to pry her off you after noticing that you were wincing in pain from how tightly she was gripping you. She muttered a quick apology when a few looks were given her way but you decided to drop the subject.

"Are you ok?" Suma had noticed your wince and gingerly grasped your arm where you had rubbed it to help ward off the throbbing soreness of it all. Her hands touched your arm making you since and her flinch. "AH! SORRY!! SORRY!!"

"It's ok. It's not your fault."

She took that as permission to grab your arm again and rub it as a semi apology for what her wife did. "No. It's Makio's! She's so careless!"

"WHAT?!" Immediately the orange eyes woman whipped to you both. "DON'T GO STARTING ANYTHING AND BLAMING ME!!"

"But you did hurt her! You hurt her arm!"

"She's not dead you thick headed toad!!"

"Aaah!! Stop being mean to me! I'm only telling the truth!" You blinked as Suma clung onto you a bit tighter.

"That's enough both of you!" Hinatsuru sighed reaching out to rub her temples. "We're all going out to celebrate and have a good time, so let's not fight today. Y/N's not hurt and Makio just needs to be a little more careful next time."

"She shouldn't call her names either." This time there was a bigger pause as everyone turned to you, and the intense look you were giving Makio. "Apologize to Suma."

A record scratch went off in Makio's head as she just ..blinked. "Huh?"

"You heard me. You're her wife aren't you?" You scowled. "Married couples shouldn't call each other names like that. You could end up saying something that you might regret later, and to be honest with you Suma wasn't lying. The way you grabbed my arm did hurt. Do as Hinatsuru says and be more careful if you're going to just yank someone around like that." Your brow rose at the blue side woman still clinging to you. "You should apologize too."

"HUH?!"

"You shouldn't just throw blame or whine like that and start fights for no reason. That's just bad too. Couples are supposed to help each other and work it out." You smiled at the both of them. "Now both of you apologize and we can go have fun!"

Both didn't say anything looking so... shocked before Makio mumbled something quickly again and turned to quickly walk off with Suma quickly scurrying after yelling something about not getting to apologize. Everyone just continued to stare at you awestruck before Hinatsuru turned to you.

"How did you do that?"

"I work at a daycare center. Kids break out in fights all the time over the pettiest things. It's all about diffusing the situation calmly," you explained pointing a finger up. "Besides, you looked tired dealing with them there."

Hinatsuru didn't know what to think of say as Mitsuri gushed more and gave her a hopeful look. Luckily the awkward silence was interrupted by the sounds of a bus coming down the road distracting you all from the moment and reminded you that it was still Makio's birthday and it was all about her today.

And apparently she decided the first thing she wanted to do was go shopping at the mall. It was deja vu on your first outing with all of them all over again. Arriving at the mall, and following Makio to the first store she wanted to go to which was a clothing store. You didn't mind just browsing while everyone else looked around and tried on clothes. Kanae found a cute jacket she really liked and sometime during the try ons Suma popped out of one changing room with what you could only describe as an ugly Christmas sweater. It was a dark blue and tackily sparkly, with a giant reindeer head on the front looking crossed eyed and below the goofy googly eyed deer face was the bad pun of 'Rein-beer'. In short, Suma had thought the ugly Christmas sweater she wore was the best find ever.

"What do you think?!," she shouted proudly presenting it to you all.

Everyone looked on with frowns of polite smiles except for Mitsuri who also gushed. "Aw! It's cute!"

"It's very...sparkly!," Kanae offered nicely with a smile.

"It looks like crap," Makio bluntly added making Suma immediately pout as she rolled her eyes. "Seriously? All the cute sweaters in here and you pick THAT of all things?" Suma's pout only got worse almost like she was about to cry again.

"I like it!" Suma turned to you as you poked at the sparkly blue sleeves of her sweater. "I think it's pretty cute on you as far as ugly sweaters go." You cried to cheer her up with a smile.

Instead Suma only gave a surprised noise, face going a pink. "Y-Y-You think I'm cute?!"

"I-.." You rose a brow but shrugged. "Sure! The sweater certainly looks good on you! It even matches your pretty eyes!"

"MY EYES ARE PRETTY?!"

"Sure they are! You have the prettiest blue eyes I've seen on a girl!" Minus Giyuu's sister. Both Tomioka siblings had shining blue ocean eyes but you wanted to avoid anymore fights between the wives today so fit now you'd flattery her and hopefully stop anymore fights. Just like you did when fights broke out in the daycare. "Could you help me find a sweater too?"

"Y/n, you don't have to indulge her-"

"But I like ugly Christmas sweaters." Makio blinked at your genuine words. "It's all a part of the holiday fun just as much as decorating the Christmas tree or drinking eggnog. Also what's the point of watching all you shop if I don't buy anything?"

Makio and Hinatsuru blinked before looking at each other as Suma squealed in delight and quickly clutched onto your arm still pink faced. "THEY'RE OVER HERE!!" You were already being dragged off with a bouncing giddy Mitsuri behind you both. "There's a purple one that looks good with your hair!!"

In the end both you and Mitsuri also got ugly Christmas sweaters. Hers a guady pink with a cat in a Santa hat, the words 'Santa Paws' splayed on the sleeves. You found an over sized ugly moss green one in the clearance bin that had badly swen on Christmas lights with the text 'this holiday's lit' in the center. Makio groaned seeing the three of you proudly wearing the ugly beauties out of the shop as everyone else looked highly amused, especially Shinobu.

Luckily your idea to deescalate the situation worked out and nothing else bad happened that day. Just doing what Makio wanted to do. Which was to simply go see a movie she picked out and visit the spa a little bit. Nothing too terrible for you. In fact you were kinda enjoying yourself just laying down in the comfy seat with what was called a mug mask over your face and cucumbers over your eyes. It was nice to just rest and relax for a while. Especially with all the work, cooking, projects, and other stressful things happening in your life.

That was until Makio's phone rang.

Said woman didn't respond at first lying face down for a massage, but after a moment she groaned. "Hina, answer that."

Said pink eyed woman sighed and stopped the manicurist to reach into Makio's purse, pull out the ringing phone, and pressed the button. "Hello?"

You supposed she must've put it on speaker because everyone could hear what Obanai was saying. "Uh...Hi."

Hinatsuru blinked. "Oh. Hi, Iguro. What's up?"

"Uuhhh-" The man sounded nervous as he paused on the other side. "Everything's fine. Um..Wh-When are you guys coming back?"

"In an hour or so.." her brow suddenly rose in suspicion and concern. "Is everything ok?"

"YEP! PERFECTLY FINE!,'' he quickly squeaked out in a hurry. "Just making y-you girls dinner!"

"Oh that's nice... Who's cooking?"

"Sa-Sanemi?"

Hinatsuru's look suddenly paled. "Oh.. What's he cooking?"

"Chicken-"

He didn't get to finish saying what he was saying because what sounded like a miniature explosion partially muffled by the phone cascaded out causing your entire groups and even the spa workers to stop and stare at the phone in Hinatsuru's hand. You yourself sat up and removed one of the cucumber slices off your right eye to blink at the phone.

"Obi, what was that?"

"Uh...N-NOTHING! EVERYTHING'S UNDER CONTROL!! I'd just like this moment to announce tha- AH!!" Another similar like explosion sound went off in the background.

"OBI?!"

Instead of Obanai's voice you all heard a far away muffled Tengen yell out, "ALL OUR FOOD KEEPS BLOWING U-!!!"

Then his voice was cut out by another mini explosion followed by an ringing as the phone lost single leaving everyone just staring at the phone silently. Until you spoke up concerned.

"What was that?"

Hinatsuru sighed. "Sanemi cooking."

"Should we like...go check on them?"

"No. This always happens when they let Sanemi cook. They'll be fine. Probably wanted to know when we'll be back so they can clean up in time."

You again blinked as Hinatsuru hung up and turned to Kanae for an answer to your question. "Does..this stuff happen all the time?"

She smiled sweetly. "More times than you know. Why do you think we always buy his ohagi instead of making it ourselves."

"You should've seen how their microwave looked when he tried to make everyone a candlelight dinner."

You...decided not to ask for anymore details and reluctantly laid back down to wait out the rest of your appointment there before you all would be heading back to have dinner and the rest of Makio's birthday party. You didn't really know what to expect on the long bus ride back, on the cold walk back towards Tengen's home, not when Makio opened up the door, and not when you all walked in and smelled the faint scents of smoke coming from the kitchen as you all saw the boys.

And you couldn't help but utter the words that fell from your shocked mouth. "What on earth happened to you guys?!"

The five men stood there looking all sorts disheveled. Hair sticking out in places, tired eyes, bits of food stains all over their ruffled clothes, and what looked like food dried sticking to various parts of their skin. The only one who smiled still was Kyojuro however everyone looked at an extremely angry and embarrassed Sanemi.

"Someone let Sanemi try roasting the chicken!," Obanai shouted angrily at the other white haired man, looking more angry than you've ever seen him before. "We had to throw everything away because it was either burnt or exploded everywhere! It took us all day to reclean everything and now thanks to Mr. Chief we got no dam food!"

"SHUT UP, OBANAI!! AT LEAST I DIDN'T FORGET TO NOT LET THE VEGETABLES OVER BOIL!!," Sanemi shouted back with a snarl. "YOU'RE LUCKY THE STOVETOP DIDN'T BLOW UP THE ENTIRE HOUSE!!"

"SAYS THE ONE WHO DID BLOW UP THE FOOD!!"

"Where's Tengen?"

And just like that, everyone stopped. Freezing where they stood as your eyes curiously scanned over the room. All the men were there including Gyomei who had to duck to stand in the doorway leading into the kitchen area, but the second tallest man of the group was no where to be found. Was he still in the kitchen? Immediately the fighting stopped. Even Kyojuro's smile strained a little bit as each gave each other uncomfortable looks. The girls giving each other worried looks that confused you more.

"He was tired after all the cleaning," Gyomei eventually broke the silence. "He went upstairs to take a nap. I suggest we leave him be for a while. Why don't we get something to eat in the meantime?" He changed the subject which had you raising a brow again. "What does everyone want to eat?"

"Well...I was really looking forward to chicken."

"Y/n gave me some food this morning. I can share if that'll help."

"Why don't I just cook everyone something?" You offered already taking off your coat. "I can make something real quick for everyone to enjoy."

"Oi! We ain't gonna make you cook anything!"

"You're not making me." Already your hands were going to pin your hair back, making your way towards the kitchen. "Can you show me where you keep the aprons?"

Many eyes blinked as you pushed past the boys but Kyojuro pointed out a cabinet. "Far left cabinet, bottom drawer."

"Thanks!"

You found everything you needed in the pantry and fridge for one giant hotpot. That should be fast enough for everyone within a few hours for late dinner and at least everyone wouldn't be going hungry.

The chopping of mushrooms, leaks, and potatoes were the only sounds accompanying you and the bubbling of the giant pot of beef broth on the stove behind you, already bubbling away with eggs, beef cuts, and some bacon strips. Soon the vegetables and noodles joined them all adding to the spices and delicious scent wafting through the air. You watched carefully as it slowly cooked over the few hours you spent in the kitchen. You didn't mind cooking for everyone but one thing concerned you.

Tengen was still missing.

You poked your head out into the living room every so often but still saw no signs of the flashy man. Which was odd. Mei said he was napping..but something about this entire situation seemed rather off to you. He was fine when you left him that morning so you supposed he should still be fine now...but you still couldn't get the image of him out of your head. You SWORE you had walked in on him crying in the kitchen that morning.

Was he ok? Maybe he had seasonal depression? Or his art block was making him really frustrated? Giyuu mentioned this wasn't the first time he's dealt with it but you were still worried over someone you'd consider a somewhat friend. F/c eyes stared up to the ceiling and listened carefully for any noises of movement, of someone coming down the steps but no such sound came. It was then that a choice was made.

Porcelain plates clinked gently as hands moved about, pulling out food from the steaming pot and onto the tray below. A quick cup of hot chocolate was poured into a cute red mug with snowflakes painted on the sides. The liquid in the cup wobbled as the tray turned and in the cook's arms was carried out of the kitchen back into an overcrowded living room.

"Ok, Y/n!," Sanemi called from where he sat on the floor. "You done?"

You turned to him and just nodded somberly. "Yes. You all can go in and help yourselves." You held up the tray in your hands. "I'm going to take this to Tengen."

An immediately reaction was Sanemi freezing and everyone else turning their heads to you wide eyed if they hadn't already. However you were already turned and making your way towards the stairs.

"Uh! H-Hey! You don't have to do that! You don't even know which room's his. Why don't one of us do it?!", Sanemi was quick to call after you. Standing up even and moving quickly towards the stairs.

You stopped on the middle of the stairway to look at him. "That's nice of you but I have something to tell him so it'd be more convenient for everyone if I just took it to him. Where's his bedroom?"

"I-.." Sanemi fumbled a bit which was unlike the brash man who never hesitated before. "It's.. literally the first door you see when you get up there. But I don't think-"

"Thanks, Sanemi!"

Without letting him finish that sentence, you turned and quickly bounded up the rest of the stairs shocking the other man into silence as your form disappeared around the corner where the stairs turned and slowly crept up to the second story of the home.

Dark.

It was pretty dark being winter where the days got shorter and being so late in the evening now. The quietness stilled everything as F/c orbs blinked before straining in the darkness for any signs of the whereabouts of the tall white haired man. And they found something. The closest door near your form was cracked open slightly allowing golden light to shine between the cracks. Strange. Didn't Gyomei say Tengen was supposed to be napping? Why was he sleeping with the lights on? Maybe he just woke up? Hesitantly you glanced back at the staircase behind you.. before turning back around and starting forward.

Your quiet footfalls approached the door as you heard the quiet sounds of..shuffling? It sounded as though someone was just walking around mindlessly without a direction. What was he doing? You thought about maybe just leaving the food by the door and leaving, but curiosity got the better of you. Plus what if he didn't see the food and accidentally stepped in it? That'd be a mess. So you opted to balancing the tray in one arm before reaching out to knock on the door. The rapid knocking silenced the weird walking noise on the other side to a halt.

"Tengen? It's me," you gently called out after a few seconds without an answer. "I brought you some food."

Again there was silence on the other side again and you were thinking about getting Kyojuro to go in and check on him when a voice finally came out. "Come in."

The voice sounded tired, and blunt but it was in Tengen's voice so you took the chance to push the creaking door open with a foot. Blinking at the sudden change in light, your eyes slowly adjusted on the room and the man inside. The room was bigger than you expected for a bedroom with a massive King sized bed on the fair wall along with two dressers and a wardrobe nearby. Then you remembered that Tengen was married and had three wives, so of course they'd all share one massive bedroom. Other than the big furniture, you noticed more paintings against the walls. A still life of a random building and a mashup of random shapes and squiggly lines. However most of the walls were full of portraits. Not your boyfriend or your friends or boyfriend.

There was at least ten portraits on the wall Tengen had his back to. All in various sizes and ages but there was no mistaking all the similarities in appearance to the white haired man sat down on the stool. Sure there was differences like ages, hair color, etc but they all had the same colored eyes.

Plum wine red.

Just like the man sat there staring down at the canvas he was facing. After taking a moment to oogle the paintings your eyes shifted back to the man painting only to realize that he hadn't looked up once from when you walked in. No smiles. No flirty comments. Just his blank face staring at the canvas in front of him. You couldn't see was he was doing behind the canvas but with the way his shoulder was moving he must've been painting something.

"I brought you some food." You held up the tray and smiled as those eyes glanced up at you. "It's beef tomoyami and I made you some hot chocolate to go with it. I hope you don't mind me using your kitchen."

He still stared at you before going back to his canvas. "It's fine." Your head looked back up to the paintings behind him. "You can leave it on the-"

"You have such beautiful painting skills." He flinched caught off guard by your stare past him. "They look so life like. Who are they? Are they your family? They look so much like you."

Again the silence between you both dragged on as a lump formed in his throat. Before he swallowed his pride with a strained smile. "Y-Yeah! Thanks for n-noticing. T-They're my ... brothers and sisters..n' parents."

"I didn't know you had siblings." Wow. Right brothers and sisters, and who you assumed were his parents being the older couple. And you thought Sanemi had a lot of siblings. "I bet they're great people!"

"Yeah...They were."

F/c eyes turned to him so fast and wide that he felt his chest tightened up. "Oh... I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "Don't be. It happened years ago. I'm over it by now." He lowered his head more to hide behind the canvas.

You continued to stare at him. The implications of his words raising a heavy topic that you knew better than to push. But- "I lost my family too." Pink strokes paused in their strides as eyes continued to hide away from your prying eyes. "...My dad passed away from an accident when I was really little and then my mom got really sick a couple years ago. So..I know how it feels."

No reaction. No words.

You took that as your cue to leave, but before you did you quickly walked in and sat the tray down upon the bed gently. "Here. Be sure to eat something. Ok?" You turned to leave but paused... turning to give him a look. "Oh...By the way, do you remember when you asked to paint me?"

Comedically two plum red eyes popped up from over the canvas wide eyed. You might've giggled at the reaction.

"...Well I was thinking about it while I was out and I think that I'd like to be painted when I'm not so busy with work and classes." You then smiled once more and turned back to the doorway. "I'll leave you alone now. Sorry for bothering you with myself."

Plum eyes only watched wife eyed as you left, closing the door behind you with a click leaving him alone once more with nothing else but the blank eyes of the portraits. You didn't see Tengen after that until it was time for you to leave half an hour later. By then everyone else was already finished eating and packing up to go home for the night everyone had already left minus you, Gyomei, and Kyojuro. Kyojuro was going to drive yourself and Mei home but Suma grabbing your shoulders had stopped you in your tracks as her eyes were wide in gluttonous delight. Guess who Mitsuri told all about your cooking for everyone? Or more specifically where she had gotten all those desserts she'd already eaten that morning. Yes. Suma had stopped you for the sole purpose of begging you to bake her-

"-some more choco corners!," she squealed out practically drooling as she gave you sparkly eyes. "And maybe those famous pancakes and daifuku and- Wait. So you know how to make peach cobbler?"

"Lay off you glutton!," Makio tried and failed to release you from her hold. "She's gotta go home!"

"But there's no shame in me asking is there!?"

"Not when it's nearly midnight you-"

Makio stopped. Orange eyes blinked slowly before her head turned to look up at you. Suma blinking at the sudden change before she quickly did the same thing slowly looking at you like deer in headlights. You blinked staring back at them for three seconds to realize that..They weren't staring AT you. They were staring BEHIND you. Slowly you looked behind you too, and everything made sense once you saw who they were staring at.

"Tengen."

Said flashy man was standing in the doorway leading upstairs (Again how did literally NO one hear him?). He was smiling softly, tiredly, maybe with a hint of sadness underneath but he was standing there nonetheless with a giant canvas held in his left hand. For a little bit no one spoke until he did.

"Sorry I'm late. Hope that doesn't spoil the party." Gingerly he stepped into the living room other hand rubbing his neck as he winced. "Also I-...Sorry for disappearing like that. Should've been down here celebrating you when I was moping around over stupid feelings."

It took your funny brain a few more moments he wasn't looking at you either but in front of you. Staring at a woman with orange eyes.

"Oh...Tengen." Makio dropped her hold on Suma to look up at him. "No. No-" She held up her hands to him. "That's not-..Your feelings aren't stupid."

"Well they shouldn't have prevented me from being with you today. I messed up on that, but I promise I'm gonna make it up to you-" He finally turned the canvas around and held it up to her. "-starting with this!" She blinked. Looking at him then at the painting before slowly reaching out for it. "Oh. Ah. Be careful there. It's still a little wet. Had to touch up a few leaves there."

You blinked and maybe it was rude, but with Suma you both leaned over to peek from the side at what he had painted on the canvas and found..A single grassy hill with a single cherry blossom tree sat a top it. A regular sunny blue sky and fluffy white clouds made up the rest of the background. It was beautiful but not exactly what you were expecting for him.

"A-Actually-" He turned away, hand covering half his face. Eyes looking everywhere but her or Suma or Hinatsuru. "I-It's mostly for you b-b-but it's kinda a present for all three of you."

You had no idea what he was on about but Suma did as realization slapped her face. "Hey. I remember that spot! We used to go there all the time after highschool remember?! We had picnics and used to watch the stars all the time and one time we found a kitty stuck in the tree and-..And.."

"That.." Makio's hands shook as she stared at the painting. Eyes shiny with water looking up as a bottom lip trembled. "W-Was the place when-..The first time you ever told me that.." Her sentences were getting broken off as she choked on her words.

"I love you." Plum eyes turned back on her. "Even if I don't say it as much as I'd like too-"

Tengen did not get to finish that sentence. You let out a yelp of surprise as the canvas was shoved into your arms and a few blues flew past everyone. One moment Tengen was standing there, the next moment three blues were suddenly jumping him causing him to yell out, waving his arms out a bit before loosing his battle against three emotional women and falling backwards onto the floor with a loud 'OOF!'

"H-HEY!!" He struggled to sit up with Makio koala hugging his middle and his other two wives clinging onto his sides. Suma loudly crying into his shoulder. "THIS ISN'T THE TIME TO- N-NOT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE ELSE-"

Anything else he might've said was quickly swallowed up by the three pelting his face with him comedically reaching out to get away. Kyojuro laughed loudly behind you at all the antics watching in amusement as Tengen failed to get away from the women.

"Well it seems that his cabin fever has ended for now!"

And you were happy to agree with him.

61 notes · View notes

forcefemdemonprincess · 3 months ago

Text

I finished a little fantasy themed short story I've been cooking up for the last few days, with lots of corruption and forcefem kinks, if anyone wants to give it a read!

One ordinary day, I sense something reaching out to me, from the faraway depths of the material plane; the feeble presence of a summoning spell, beckoning me towards it's caster. It would be simple to ignore the call, yet as my curiosity gets the best of me, I deign to answer, following the thread of conjuration magic to it's source.

My senses take in the sight of a stone tower, a summoning circle scribed upon the very center of the floor, the candles surrounding it flickering with a faint orange flame. Beyond it there is a wooden work desk and chair, a simple bed, and walls covered in bookshelves, all with disorganized tomes and scrolls strewn about; and a large window on either side through which the starlight shines in a moonless night, curtains billowing in the breeze.

Standing before the circle stands a half-elven wizard, seeming to be in his twenties in human years - though elven blood makes it difficult to ascertain, he could be anywhere from two decades to a couple centuries old - with short brown hair and the lithe, frail frame of a scholar and a smooth face with rather comely features. He chants the summoning spell, his voice filled with uncertainty as he slowly sounds out the incantation as if the words were alien to his lips.

And they likely are. Far from an archmage of yore, the young man seems to have little more skill than a mediocre apprentice. The binding runes around the summoning circle, meant to keep the caster safe and the fiend contained, are all written incorrectly, not that it would have worked with a demon of my caliber to begin with. Even the spellbook he holds is old, certainly passed down to his hands by another, perhaps a mentor or loving relative.

The candles flicker, then go out entirely. The wizard stops his chanting and takes a step back startled, and slowly I rise from the summoning circle. I choose a relatively nonthreatening form, a scantily clad, mostly human-looking woman, save for the pink skin, curved horns, and a thin tail which ends in a heart shape. The candles light up again, their flames painting the room a bright, pink hue.

He immediately looks surprised, as if he'd never expected his spell to work to begin with, but once the shock has passed, he speaks in a shaky voice:

"I-I am the mage Theodoros! I bind you to my service, o' fiend!"

It takes great effort to stifle the urge to laugh. Not only did the fool forget to put up wards or use any binding spells to speak of - not that it would have mattered - he made the oldest beginner's mistake in the book and told a demon his name, not to mention his utter lack of confidence and authority, the wizard paints a laughable picture.

Yet, it's been so long since I've had a mortal plaything to toy with... And this one is so cute and pathetic I simply must have him. And thus, I decide to play along:

"Of course... Master," I smirk deviously. His ecstatic grin makes it clear the half-elf holds no suspiscion of my subterfuge whatsoever. His naivete is baffling, truly. "What is it you desire? Power? Knowledge of dark, forbidden spells? Or are you simply looking to fulfill your wordly lusts?"

The adorable blush of embarrassment that quickly takes over his pale cheeks at the mere suggestion of sex is almost enough to make this worth it already. Virgins are especially fun to break.

"Uh, the spells and power, yes." He calms himself with deep breaths. "I want to become a powerful archmage."

"And you decided to take a shortcut, did you? Very intelligent. Why slave away over dusty old tomes if you can drink directly from the fountain."

He smiles wide at but a few honeyed words. "Exactly! You get it. Well then... Go ahead and uhm, make me stronger. With your demon magic and all."

"Gladly. Could you give me your hand, for but a moment?"

"What? Hells no, I'm not letting a demon touch me, that sounds far too dangerous!" Oh, now he's thinking about risks and consequences. I almost roll my eyes.

I pout. "Come now, it's only through contact that I could lend you my power. Besides! I'm bound to your service, remember? I couldn't harm you if I wanted to."

"Oh... That's true. Alright, do it." He extends his hand, as if for a handshake. I grasp it tightly, and pull him closer into the summoning circle, nearly making him trip, and bring his hand to my lips. They sear with infernal flames, branding a lipstick mark into the flesh of the back of his hand despite how he whimpers and uselessly tries to pull it away.

Before he can issue any further complaint, the blissful heat and raw strength of my demonic mana flows into his being, making him gasp, his eyes momentarily flashing a bright pink hue and his dick becoming painfully hard, his size... Unremarkable. Slightly below average, perhaps.

"I... I thought you said you couldn't harm me." Theodoros says, out of breath.

"Oh, don't be such a baby... A little bit of pain is no harm at all. Quite the opposite, in fact! Don't you feel it?"

"I feel... Hot?" He raises his hands, the tip of his fingers shimmering, brimming with arcane might.

"Go on, try it out!" I grin.

He walks over to a large window that leads to a balcony, trembling with anticipation. He extends his hands, and an unending torrent of fuchsia colored hellfire, hot enough to melt steel, erupts up into the air. He laughs maniacally, drunk with the power and the demonic magic seeping into his body and mind from the infernal brand on his hand. The lustful magic overtakes him, and his concentration in the spell is broken as he orgasms on the spot.

"Hah... I only ever managed to make sparks and light candles before. This is incredible!" He says, with a giddy smile and an unfocused gaze.

"And it's only the beginning," I reply with a smirk as he walks back to me.

"What more can you teach me?" He asks excitedly.

"Oh, plenty. You can manipulate hellfire, bend minds, change into whatever shape you like... And that's not even mentioning the libraries worth of knowledge I've accrued over the years."

"That's... Fucking hells, that's everything I wanted and more." His chest heaves up and down, the adrenaline not going down in the slightest... Nor does his raging arousal. "Can you... Do something about this?" He asks, pointing to the tent in his robes, which refuses to go down despite him already having finished once.

"Oh, plenty! Why don't you come over here and let me show you?"

"I meant more... Just make it stop? With magic or something? It's driving me mad!"

"It's a side effect of demonic magic. I can't make it go away... But I can help relieve you of it in a more direct, and much more pleasurable manner." I say, sliding aside the strap that holds my upper garments to my shoulder, revealing one of my beautifully shaped breasts, while pumping more arousal through his brand. "Just let me out of this summoming circle and I'll show you," I say, dropping the other strap to let my chest bare in it's entorety for his viewing pleasure. I could step out of the circle any time I wanted, but it's far more delicious to make him submit willingly to my whims.

"Hhrn... Alright, fine!" He walks over and rubs his sole on the chalk circle, opening a passage. I step through and put my hand on his chest, giving him a slight push against the wall before pressing my lips to his, forcing a delicious throaty moan out of him as I press my body into him.

My longue, forked tongues explores his mouth, swirling around his in a long, sloppy kiss, grabbing onto his ass roughly enough go make him squeal again. He eventually pushes me off to gasp for air, a strand of saliva lewdly connecting our mouths.

"Mo... More..." He pleads in a breathy voice. "I want to fuck you." He nearly growls, consumed with lust.

"As you wish," I say with a grin, and touch his forehead. With a flash of light the mage is teleported onto the bed, his clothes dropping onto the floor where he stood.

I slowly walks towards the bed, taking off the rest of my garments, making him writhe with anticipation as my curvy, hourglass shaped frame comes into view. I run my hand along my smooth pink skin as I get on the bed, getting between his legs.

He bites his thick, luscious lips as I lick his length from shaft to tip, nearly shooting his load then and there, before I hold it down with a bit of magic. Not yet.

I take his tip in my mouth, wrapping my lips tightly around it and swirling my tongue, feeling the cutie wizard get all wet for me with his pre. I suck aggressively hard, making him moan and twitch and give pathetic little bucks of his hips into my mouth as it envelops his unimpressive member completely.

I make him ride on that very edge of release for countless minutes each stretching on to feel like hour, watching him melt and turn into a writhing, mewling mess, trying everything, from thrusting his hips, to grabbing my horns to try and push me away, all to no avail, until he's barely forming coherent sentences, begging and pleading with tears in his eyes.

When I suddenly pull it out of my lips and release the spell, letting him drench himself in his seed in a mind-numbing orgasm that goes on and on endlessly, the wizard's wjole body shaking and spasming, howling moans escaping his throat.

Each spurt of his seed, that becomes increasingly thin and watery the longer his peak goes on, drains his already somewhat petite member slowly of it's size. When it subdues at last, he's lost about half of it, and with it, you can clearly see how his body and face have gotten softer, his hips wider, waist slimmer, and nipples puffier as his chest begins to form into breasts. His irises begin to glow with that unnatural pink glow from before, and two small pointy protrusions begin to subtly grow along the sides of his head.

Theodoros is, however, too much of a giggly, horny mess at this point to notice, let alone care. "His" eyes half-lidded and a giddy, drooling grin rests on the "man's" lips, nary a coherent thought in the mage's mind... Yet that diminutive dick remains hard, hips bucking needily. Theo's eyes find mine with a pleading look, and the slut manages to speak, in a moany voice:

"Ple... Please..."

I smirk wide, straddling the weak-willed wizard, and letting their now diminutive dick enter me. The pleasure of having it in me as I start riding it is negligible, but the delight and satisfaction of watching this pretty little thing unravel under my will more than makes up for it.

I bounce on it, roughly, wrapping my hand around the wizard's throat as they look into my eyes, pinned under my body as I fuck their brains out, riding their cock until they're chaining one orgasm right into another without stop.

This time, there's no spell to make their dicklet hold back. They cum over and over and over again, shallow spurts of weak, watery seed shooting again and again inside me as I quickly drain away their virility and the rest of their size until there's nearly nothing left anymore of the wizard's dick.

Their last spurt comes with great difficulty, painfully making them writhe and yielp until they shoot out a tiny, pretty little gemstone, brimming with life. Theodoros cums her soul out, and with it goes the rest of her masculinity and self, sealing her transformation into a lesser demon, with a cute, lithe frame, a pair of small horns on her head, a tail, with a heart shaped tip, and pink eyes with slitted pupils.

In a moment, a large demonic cock forms onto my crotch, and Theo instinctively spreads her legs, presenting a smooth, bare crotch. I press my tip between her legs and push, her body yielding to my will and my cock, shapeshifting her pussy and womb into existence to better serve my needs.

"Good girl. You'vrle yielded your soul to me, and now... You're bound into my service, eternally. From now on, I rename you... Theodora. And you may adress me as mistress, Thea."

"Yes... Mistress." Her mind seems to object momentarily to the idea, but the thought is quickly discarded. Whilst holding her soul, Thea's mind is as malleable as her body. The fledgling demoness can't even will herself to want to resist. The very thought brings her pain... And obedience brings bliss.

"That's my good girl... You and I are going to have a lot of fun."

#forcefemdemonprincess #forcefem #forcefem nsft #forcefem k1nk #corruption k1nk #nsft writing #wizard nsft #succubus nsft #be nice to me I havent written anything like this in a while

111 notes · View notes

ijustwantogohomehogwarts · 1 year ago

Text

The Colors of the Rainbow

Timothée asks y/n what color he reminds her of, and she puts a lot more effort into an answer than he could ever imagine.

Warnings and such: it's. so. fluffy. also like one swear word? illusions to "adult situations" but nothing bad! not proofread!

A/N : i'm backkkk!! not gonna lie, i didn't expect to be gone nearly a month, but life sucks lately and it just kinda happened...im sorry!!! thanks for the continued love and support! also- i get my cast off in like 10 days! yay!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"what color do you associate me with?"

His voice drew my attention away from the book in hand, the first words spoken aloud in hours. it was thought provoking; a color?

"what do you mean?"

"when you hear my name, what color do you think of?"

I had never thought of that before, but now seemed a good a time as any. I allowed my eyes to wonder over him as I thought about the best answer.

Red: bold and beautiful. a bright color, attention grabbing and hard to look away from. the color of our bedroom lights after too many nights spent apart. the color of his eyes after he smokes too much and giggles on the couch. The color of our lips when we finally pull away, gasping quietly for breath. Red. The metaphor of blood shed that went into making us, and making us work. red, bold and beautiful.

Orange: autumn. obviously. the color of pumpkins, of crazy sunsets and sunrises, worthy of photographs we'll never look at again but in the moment, it's important. the color of comfort, warmth and a cool breeze. orange, deep like fire, the burning desire for him, for me, for each other. the color that paints my insides when i look at him and remember that he is mine.

Yellow: not the neon yellow, but the soft yellow. the yellows the paint the sky for a brief moment in the early hours of the day, when the world is waking up again and the day is starting. the color that floods our bedroom and allows dust to dance in the air around us. the last color we see as we fall asleep together. the color night owls are always chasing. for him, it's the color he radiates when he walks into the room, bright and happy, a glow that follows him and intoxicates everyone in his path.

Green: earthy and holy. natural beauty, like the nature we crave amidst the bustle of the new york city. not a color i see him on often, but the color of his eyes. the color i get lost in when he talks, drunk on the sound of his voice. the color behind his entire world. it's calming and comforting. it's him. a color i would happily see every day for the rest of my life. a color i plan to see for eternity.

Blue: the color of water and cleanliness. he loves his showers, his pools, and the rare trips on boat rides for secret swimming holes. a water bug through and through. the color for which he starts every morning, a fresh start. the color of winter, cool and quiet. for nights spent close together under heavy blankets, skin on skin. the color that accompanies him to premieres and interviews, a color that demands attention in the softest tone.

Purple: both the softest and deepest versions. a child-like representation of each, a playful color. a color which adorns his body on quiet days spent shopping, or nights gallivanting around for basketball games and bars with his friends. a color i often associate with nights home without him, the undeniable fact that he'll stumble through the front door in the early hours of the morning, the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath as he tells me he loves me.

White: innocent, clean, wholesome. a stereotypical color, but there's truth to it. sure, he's not pure in the sense of what the color stands for traditionally (can you blame a girl?) except he is. through all of life's changes, the good, the bad, and everything in between, he's stayed true to who he is. he's happy, ready for life's adventures. he wants to be the person his generation can look up to, someone who defies the odds and makes a name for himself on his own. he doesn't need, or want, poor publicity or the lingering story of being a hollywood fuckup. he won't be- he can't be.

Pink: a color typically labeled for feminism, but golly doesn't he look beautiful in pink! it's bold and impossible to look away from. the lightest shades for the purest and most innocent, the darkest shades for the most demanding and defiant. why not break stereotypes?! the clothes make the man, so they say...but for him? no. he makes the clothes. he's what pulls the outfit together, the one who makes the color beautiful. beautiful, like the color that paints his cheeks when his heart flutters in his chest.

Gray: a color for balance. there's never light without the dark. with good days, comes bad. we get tired, sick and worn down but it reminds us we are human. a color reserved for coffee runs on lazy sundays, after sleeping away the stress of the previous week and preparing ourselves for the next. a comforting color, one that reminds us we are allowed to be sad, but the feeling will pass and the sun will shine again. be patient, good things take time.

***

"Black." I settled on the answer with a smile.

"Black?!"

"Yes!"

"Why?! That's the most basic color!" He chuckled softly, nudging me with his foot.

"No, it's the most important color."

"Important?"

"Well, it's a perfect combination of all the colors, and all their qualities. You've got the best of them all, love."

"How so?" There was no hiding the color pink on his cheeks.

Black: the perfect combination of all the colors that exist. the best qualities mashed into one, leaving ample opportunity to add more of the color that's most needed. black, the color of the room which we share in the middle of the night, where the only sounds are soft snoring or heavy moaning. sometimes both. it's in this color where we find solace in one another, an indescribable feeling of peace, a place which we call home. in the arms of the man i love. all the colors in the world, every combination of letters in every language- it'll never be enough to express the gratitude i have for the stars above that lead me to him.

124 notes · View notes

seenoversundown · 6 months ago

Text

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Four

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC)

Warnings: Shitty partner (again), mentions of cannabis, an Accidental date, Pining (a lot of it), Thinking your friends are hot (platonically?), Verbal arguments, Willa knowing too much.

Word Count: 4.6k Summary: Josh has always loved love, and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: Have you ever been on an accidental date? I have a friend who has been on three because she just can’t tell when a guy is trying to get to know her better versus when they’re being friendly. She is married.

Bowl of Oranges - Bright Eyes “I think I’m cured No, in fact, I’m sure of it Thank you, stranger for your therapeutic smile”

I sit at the kitchen table, flipping through my notebook of potential lesson plans for the upcoming week. I keep many options available, so it's always hard to choose. Papier-mâché animal masks could be fun, but I'd need to go to Hobby Lobby to get supplies. I nix that idea and move on to the next. We could do a Jackson Pollock unit, but I’d need to check the weather. There is no way I'm letting these gremlins throw paint indoors. I pull out my phone to check the weather app and let out a giant sigh when I see that we’re scheduled for rain every day this week starting tomorrow. As I dive back into my planning book, I'm interrupted by Craig barreling into the room. “Do you plan on actually doing anything around here today?” He practically yells out. It’s been a few weeks since he had his little “come to Jesus” moment, and whatever niceness he had in him seems to be wearing off. He’s been picking fights again over the smallest things. He’s even started making snide comments when I have to make another trip to Hobby Lobby. “Interesting how you always just seem to be out of something for your classroom! I’m not great at math, but it seems improbable that you’d need something every single week.” I slowly blink and look around the room, taking in the clutterless counters and decidedly empty sink, before gazing back at him.

“What do you mean, Craig?” “It’s just a mess around here, and you’ve been holed away at the kitchen table all morning.”

I take one more look around before crossing my arms over my chest.

“If there's a mess in here, you made it. I cleaned the entire house before I went to bed last night,” I grit out, “though I don't suppose you would have noticed because you were so engrossed in your Xbox.” I watch as he flounders for a moment, mouth opening and closing as his brain attempts to find the words to respond. He’s not used to me talking back to him, so I relish the reaction I've gotten out of him. Before he can find a new way to criticize me, I stand up from my chair and say, “Gonna have to cut this short, babe. I have work to do. For my job.”

I gather my items from the table and put them back in the canvas messenger bag I use for schoolwork.

“You’re being so mean.” “I’m being mean because I’m the only one who does anything around here. I work full time, I am in school full time, I cook, I clean, I wash your dirty fucking underwear, and you come in here and ask if I’m going to do anything around here today?” I glance at his outfit, finally realizing what he’s wearing, and it only adds one more layer to my annoyance. “Oh! Real nice, Craig. You go into my closet,” I tug at the sleeve of the garishly patterned grandpa sweater he has on, “and you take my clothes. Then you waltz in here trying to start a fight?” “…All my sweaters are dirty.” “Do you know what functional adults do when their clothes are dirty? They start a load of laundry.” “You just do it better than I do, babe,” he shoots back with a cocky grin. I exhale sharply, shaking my head. Oh, to have the audacity of a cis white man, I think. “Sorry bout your luck. I’m going to Higher Grounds so I can focus on my work.”

Leaving him no time to respond, I sling my bag over my shoulders and make my way to the door. I slide on my worn Blundstone boots and grab my corduroy jacket off the hook. I toss a quick “Bye, text me if you need anything” behind me and head out. -------------------------------------------

I set my canvas bag down at one of the outdoor tables and headed into the cafe to order a latte. I stand behind a group of apparent tourists, silently begging them to decide what kooky, zany little treat they should get from Portland’s Very First Weed Cafe! That they only found out about through Trip Advisor. I have to calm down. I can't just think mean things about these people because I feel crabby over Craig. I’m not even technically a local, myself. I give myself a little shake to get out of my internal funk and decide to get lost in the beautiful murals that litter the walls. No matter how many times I come here, the artistry will never cease to amaze me. The way the artist seamlessly moves from cool, starry blues into bright, sunny oranges. All surrounded by smoke and foliage. The way each side of the mural is a mirror image of the other side, but it represents duality. Night and Day, Dark and Light.

“Quinn?” I jump as someone behind me calls my name. I turn around to see a mop of curly hair bounding toward me. “Josh! It’s so good to see you! I feel like I never see you out and about.” “Well, it is The Lord’s Day and all. Hobby Lobby is required to grant me this one day of rest.” he lets out a small chuckle at his joke, and I find myself laughing with him. “Too true. How silly of me to forget. I’ve been away from the South for too long.” “That does seem to be the case, dear. How scandalous of you to overlook the Sabbath.”

I giggle, stepping up to the counter now that the customers in front of me have ordered and moved on.

“What do you want, Josh? I’m buying.” I gesture for him to order. “Oh, I- I couldn't.” “I insist. Now hurry up, or we’ll be nearly as bad as them,” I gently incline my head toward the group waiting on drinks. The barista hides a laugh behind their hand. “See,” I point at the barista, “they agree with me!” “Fine! But the next round is on me,” he finally gives in and steps in front of me to order a chai latte with a dash of CBD in it.

I place my order and pay, then Josh and I head out to my claimed table, the barista promising to bring our drinks out.

“You’ll have to forgive me. I may be a boring conversational partner for a little while. I’ve got to make a lesson plan for the kids this week.” I reach into my bag and pull out my iPad and my notebook. “I suppose that will be fine,” he replies with mock sarcasm, “no, truly… what you do for those kids is so important, Quinn.” I feel my face heat up and pray that Josh doesn't notice. “Please, I highly doubt I’m changing lives here,” I raise one eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh, but you are,” he continues, “I’m sure you remember being that age. How many of your teachers invested in your creativity?” I think back, and not a single name comes to mind until my high school art teacher. “Okay… I think I see your point.” “I’ve seen how excited you get about your students, about your lesson plans. You’re in my store damn near every week. You’re helping these kids in a way they will remember forever.”

My heart skips a beat, and butterflies erupt in my belly as I Crack a smile. It’s a good feeling to have someone recognize the work I do. To have someone notice the excitement and joy I get out of it. Why doesn't Craig understand? The short-lived smile drops from my face.

“Thanks, Josh. That means a lot.” I trail off, pulling out my Apple Pencil.

I begin designing an intricate mandala, getting lost in the precise strokes of my pencil against the paper-textured screen protector. I feel Josh’s eyes on me, intently watching from his seat across the table, but I (try to) ignore him for the moment. Surely, he understands that this is more important than small talk. I notice from the corner of my eye that he’s pulled a notebook out of seemingly nowhere, and he begins scribbling in it. We sit in contented silence for who knows how long. The only sounds between us are our pencils and the occasional squawk of a hungry seagull harassing passersby for a snack. I can feel the stress leave my body as I sit across from him, sharing space but not taking space from each other.

It’s nice not feeling pressured to provide entertainment as I work. Maybe we can do this more often.

The sound of Josh setting his pencil on the table grabs my attention. I glance at him as he laces his fingers together and cracks his knuckles, flexing them in a way that showcases the veins in his hands. Oh, brother. I can't look away as he uses his freshly stretched hands to push the long sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. Why is my mouth dry? I slowly reach out to grab my latte. Surely, this will quench my thirst, I think, still watching as Josh picks his pencil up and murmurs an angry “Fuck me” under his breath. My face heats as I replay that frustrated whisper in my head, eyes darting over the muscles contracting in his forearm as he aggressively erases something on his page. Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me? In my slightly frazzled state, eyes definitely not still locked on Josh’s bare arms, I overshoot the paper cup I aimed for and knock it over. I close my eyes, wincing, waiting for Josh to get angry that I spilled something on his notebook, but instead, I hear his tinkling laugh. I open my eyes and see him smiling widely at me, an adorable dimple on full display.

“Good thing that's empty! I’d hate to cause more work for the barista.” I let out a breath I didn't realize I’d been holding in. “Yeah, I hate being a pain in the ass customer,” I awkwardly chuckle. Josh stands from the table and stretches his arms over his head, causing the hem of his shirt to ride up. Fuck me. My gaze dips to the pale sliver of skin above the waistband of his pants. I need to relax. Josh clears his throat, glancing down at me, and I finally meet his eyes.

“Want a refill? I’ll get this round,” he taps his wallet in his pocket. “That sounds great, thank you!” He nods his head and gathers our empty cups before he heads inside.

I hang my head in my hands and let out an annoyed groan. Jesus Christ, Quinn. Get it together and stop ogling your friend who is nice enough to buy you a new latte. The truth of the matter is I may be in a relationship with Craig, but I do still have eyes. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that your friends are beautiful. Honestly, the world may be a bit more fun if everyone could accept that their friends are hot, and between Josh’s big brown baby cow eyes, his unruly curls, and his ability to make you feel like you’re the only person in the room, he, unfortunately, veers into Hot Friend Territory. The dimples don’t hurt either. I attempt to finish my drawing while Josh is inside, but I can hardly focus on anything but the odd feeling I get in my chest when I think of him.

When Josh returns to the table, he sets a fresh cup in front of me.

“I hope this is right. I tried my best to remember what you’d ordered.”“Thank you,” I take a small sip of the obviously correct coffee order, “it’s perfect!”

He visibly relaxes at my confirmation, and I can’t help but think how sweet that is. I can’t remember the last time someone cared so much about something so small.

“Since we’ve been interrupted,” He starts, “I have to admit I’m curious about what you’re working on.” “Oh, it’s nothing special. I’m just making a coloring sheet for the kids.” I flip my iPad around, showing him the mandala design before continuing. “I had a hard time coming up with something for them to do this week since the weather isn’t going to be great, and I’m running low on classroom supplies. And I kinda stole an idea from that mural inside.” “Oh! That sounds interesting. Please continue.” “I’ve always liked mixing warm and cool colors in the same piece like they did inside, and I decided that I want the kids to do the same. So, I’m designing this Mandala coloring sheet for them, and I’m going to have them work on it throughout the week—“ I stop myself, unsure of how much Josh actually cares.

He gestures for me to continue.

“It’s stupid, but I figured I could use this as an opportunity to plant the seed in their brains that art can be used to express and work through your emotions. So, at the start of each class, I’m going to ask them to work with Warm Colors if they’re happy, excited, or in a generally positive mood. Cool colors if they’re not feeling their best.” “Quinn,” he reaches forward and grabs my hand across the table, “that’s not nothing special. That’s beautiful. It’s so important for kids to learn about their emotions and have an outlet to let those emotions out.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. I don’t love being shocked at someone taking my work seriously, but I’m not used to it. Craig always acts like it’s a chore to care about my career. Willa is supportive, but it's different coming from a fellow artist I've known since college. It's nice to feel seen by someone else.

I pick at my nails for a moment, trying to think of anything to say back to him to convey my appreciation for his words. He reaches a hand across the table and rests it atop mine, and I meet his warm gaze. “I used to pick my fingernails until they bled,” he starts, “nasty habit.” He gently rubs his thumb across my knuckles, and butterflies erupt in my belly. This is fine. Friends can give each other butterflies. It's totally a normal thing that happens sometimes. I’m sure I could ask anyone, and they’d say, “Of course, Quinn! I get friendly butterflies all the time.” I open my mouth to thank Josh yet again, but I am interrupted by my phone buzzing in my bag.

Once. Twice. Three times.

I yank my hand out of Josh’s grasp like I’ve been burned. I already know it’s Craig. I can't get more than two and a half hours to myself before he starts bombarding me with messages, begging to know when I’ll be home. A fourth message comes through, and Josh raises an eyebrow.

“Our Quinn seems popular today,” his eyes light up with mischief, “Should you answer that? Or you could hand it to me. I’m happy to let them know it’s rude to interrupt someone while they're working.” Fucking butterflies are back. “Oh, that's really not necessary, Josh. I’m sure they’ll stop..” The universe laughs at me; a fifth message comes in immediately after I trail off, and I groan. “You really might want to check that. It sounds like the Pope may have died,” Josh lets out a bewildered chuckle. I shake my head at his vaguely blasphemous joke but reach into my bag and pull out my phone.

I take a deep breath before clicking into my messages.

Craig: Where are you? Craig: You need to come home NOW Craig: I need laundry done Craig: I don't care how busy you are Craig: Stop ignoring me

It's times like these I am glad that I keep my read receipts off for him. I don't know what to say, and I don't want to respond.

I lock my phone and place it face down on the table next to me.

“Not the Pope, just a nosy partner,” the word partner feels slightly off coming out of my mouth. It feels like it doesn't belong in this bubble that Josh and I exist in at this moment. I don't have time to unpack that. Josh’s eyebrows scrunch together, and an indecipherable emotion flits across his face as he processes my words. It leaves just as quickly, though. “Offer’s still on the table for me to tell him he’s being rude,” he sounds off, with a half smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

My phone buzzes twice more, and I briefly consider slamming my head against the table.

Craig: So you ARE ignoring me Craig: Cool

I do gently slam my head against the table at this. It's more like I allow my forehead to kiss the cool metal before letting out a silent scream and then looking back at my messages.

Me: I’m not ignoring you? I’m working Me: You’re being rude

His response is immediate

Craig: Your job isn't more important than our relationship Me: My job doesn't treat me like its surrogate mother Me: I’m putting myself on DND. I’ll be home when I’m home

I click into my focus settings and select Danger, Will Robinson, which only allows Willa to reach me.

Me: If Craig texts you, leave him on read Wilson: 🫡 Wilson: But we will be discussing this later

I finally look up at Josh.

“I’m sorry about that. I told him he was being rude and put my phone on DND,” I trailed off, feeling slightly embarrassed by the situation. “You don't have to apologize to me. You weren't the one being rude.” I nod my head. Wow, what a foreign concept. I don't know if I can just not apologize; those Cancer traits run deep. I’d take a wild guess that my frequent need to apologize is why Craig thinks he’s allowed to treat me the way he does. I sigh. I need to work on that. I know I need to work on that, but—

“Where’d you go?” Josh asks, pulling me out of my internal spiral. “Stuck in my head. It happens a lot.” “Well, let's get you out of there,” he hits me with another boyish grin. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” “By putting you in mine for a little bit,” he slides his notebook across the table to me. I gently scoop it into my hands, cradling it like a child. “Are you sure? I don't want to overstep.” “Go for it. They’re just film ideas. I’ll probably never get around to doing anything with them.”

I feel bad about looking through his deepest thoughts without offering something in return, so I set his notebook back on the table and began rifling through my bag.

“A-ha!” I brandish my sketchbook in his face, shaking it back and forth. He quirks a brow. “If you're going to let me look through your work, you have to look through mine.”

We sit in silence, flipping through each other’s notebooks. Josh’s mind is a vast and beautiful thing. He has so many ideas written down, that it's difficult for me to digest it all. Horror, Sci-Fi, Romance, Comedy… He has ideas for every genre. Some are more fleshed out than others, but he has bare-bones ideas for at least fifteen different projects. I sit and read through the outline of a murder mystery he’s clearly put a lot of thought into, and I begin to envision scenes in my mind. I can picture the main characters fully. I can hear their accents as I read through the small bits of dialogue he has written out.

“This—” we both start at the same time.

He lets out a soft chuckle and motions for me to go first.

“I was just going to say that this,” I gesture to his notebook, “is absolutely insane. You are so talented, Josh. Truly.” His face flushes an adorable shade of pink at my praise, making me want to continue. “I can picture these characters, hear their voices, and this is just a draft. You’re such a strong storyteller.” “Oh, hush. They're just little stories. As I said, I'll probably never do anything with them,” he scratches at the back of his neck before flipping my notebook back to me, “besides, I don't know why you're praising my work when you literally did this.” The page he flipped around to show me is a portrait I drew of Willa holding a giant bouquet of irises. I filled in the negative space with all the silly nicknames I've given her over the years. “I don't even know this woman, but I know that you captured her down to her very soul with this piece. I know she would be honored by your portrayal of her.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and chew on it. Would she be? I've never shown her this drawing. Maybe I should.

“Thank you, that means a lot,” I finally say, meeting his eyes, “she's my best friend, and I've never felt like that drawing does her justice.” “I can assure you, anyone would be happy to see themself drawn with such reverence.” “So, I guess we’re both pretty good at what we do,” I laugh. “It would seem so!”

My phone buzzes again, and I sigh and pick it up, muttering another apology to Josh.

Wilson: Craig’s on the warpath Me: JDJDBCHDHEJJS okay. I’ll head home so he’ll leave you alone. Wilson: Call me on your way ☺️

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but my boyfriend,” there's that weird feeling again, “has moved on to harassing Willa, so..” I trail off.

He nods, moving to stand when I do. He reaches over to me and wraps me in a hug, splaying his hand across my back and rubbing gentle circles between my shoulder blades.

“Thank you for letting me sit and work with you. It was really nice,” he finally pulls back. “No, thank you. I had a beautiful afternoon. We should do it again sometime.” I grab my bag off the back of my chair and say my final goodbyes while pulling my phone out and hitting Call on Willa’s contact. She obviously answers on the first ring.

“Quincy. Quinny. Quailman.” I hold in a laugh as she rattles off nicknames for me “Wilbur!” “Are you on your way home?” “Yeah, but I’m walking, so I have time for your interrogation.” I look down at my feet and kick a few stray rocks across the sidewalk, prepping for whatever she’s going to say. Why do I feel like I’m about to get in trouble? I didn't do anything wrong. “Beautiful! Because I do have questions.” “Shoot,” I breathe out a laugh at her nosiness. “Firstly, yes, firstly. Why did you have me covering for you with Greg?” “Technically, dear Wilson, I asked you to ignore Craig,” I emphasize Craig. Willa loves to call him Greg to rile him up, but I usually end up catching the heat for it when she does it to him in person. I’m trying to train her out of it. “It’s difficult to ignore a man who blows your phone up seventeen times in ten minutes.” I can practically hear her eye roll. “Welcome to my life, Wills,” I grunt as I kick another stray rock into the street. “It's unhealthy, you know.” “Mhmmmmmmm.” “Well, what were you doing that was,” she puts on her very worst Craig impression, “more important than responding to Greg?” “I was working on a lesson plan. He came into the kitchen, harassing me about laundry this morning while I was trying to work, so I left.” “Sure.” “Sure? What does that mean?” “It means that I’m sure that's why you left. But there’s more to it.”

I groan; we’ve known each other long enough that she can tell when I'm omitting information.

“It wasn't anything special, really. I left, came to Higher Grounds, I maybe ranintoafriend,” I try to breeze over the last part, “and then here we are.” “Run that last bit by me again, Quinn.” “I ran into a friend,” I squeak out, knowing there’s no sense in trying to dodge the question. Willa is like a bloodhound when she wants information. “I'm your only friend, and you didn't run into me, so.” “Hey! I resent that.” “You resent it because it's true!” I grumble at her as I turn the corner and head down my street to my apartment building. “FINE. I ran into the guy from Hobby Lobby, and we sat and worked together.” “The guy from Hobby Lobby?” “Yeah, Josh. The manager?” “Stock Boy?” “The very one!” “So, what? You ignored your partner,” She shudders over the word, “to go on a coffee date with the guy that caused Greg to yell at you in a Gamestop?” “Whose side are you on?” “YOURS. But, I’m playing devil's advocate, and the Devil said you cannot tell Greg that.” “Why? We’re just friends.” “Greg is convinced that you are in love with me. Do you really think he won’t have an incorrect opinion on your coffee date with another man?” “Not a date, but I see your point.” “Don't make a habit of being wrong, you know.” “I know, I know,” I say, sliding my key into the lock on my door, “anyway, I'm home. I have to deal with hurricane Craig.” “Love you, babes. Text me if you need me.” “Love you, too.”

I hang up the call and slide my phone back into my bag, bracing myself for whatever is about to blow up.

“Nice of you to come home, babe,” he greets me with fake sincerity when I enter the kitchen. “I missed you!” I reply, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Oh, I'm certain that's true. That's why I had to contact Willa to get you to come home,” he huffs, “what did you even work on anyway?”

I pull out my iPad and show him the mandala.

“You couldn’t have printed a coloring sheet off Google?”

So, this is how it’s gonna go. I slam my iPad down on the counter and quickly turn around to face him.

“No, Craig,” I grit my teeth, “I couldn't print it off Google. Because my students deserve more than that.” “You're a student teacher. They aren't even your students.”

I close my eyes and run a hand down my face, sucking in a deep breath to stop myself from absolutely tearing into him. Once I have a handle on my anger, I let my breath out and open my eyes to meet Craig’s.

“You can put me down, but do not dismiss my career.” “Career? You’re still in school.” “Which is a lot more than can be said for you!” Craig lets out an annoyed laugh “All I wanted to know is why you were gone for so long, and now you're attacking me.”

A breath catches in my throat. Does he really think I'm attacking him? Does he not see what he’s been doing to me all day long? Oh, he wants to play it that way? Sorry, Willa. Fuck your advice, we’re going rogue.

“Hey, Craig,” I let out a slightly unhinged laugh, “do you want to know what I was actually doing?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I was with Josh, you know, the guy from Hobby Lobby? I ran into him at Higher Grounds, and I bought him a coffee. Then we sat at a table together, and he told me how important my work was. And we had a beautiful three-hour-long conversation. And it was the least stressful thing I've dealt with today.”

I turn away from him, grabbing my canvas bag and iPad

“I’m going to the room. Do not follow me.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, I walk down the hallway and into our bedroom. I shut and lock the door, then pull out my sketchbook and a pencil, flipping to the first free page. Despite my anger and hurt, my thoughts are still full of Josh’s hair and his dimples, so I put my pencil to the paper and begin to draw him from memory.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

ATS Masterpost | The Caravel Tavern Series | Masterlist

Reply or Fill out this form to be added to the taglist:

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @imleavingyoufornewyork @mindastreamofcolours @dont-go-home-without-me @literal-dead-leaf

@mackalah @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf @threadofstars @earthgrlsreasy

@peaceloveunitygvf @gretavanfan @jazzyfigz @musicspeaks

@demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama @wrldabomination @imleavingyoufornewyork

@gvf-luna @lilbitx @gvfstuddedmajesty

#gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fic #gvf fic #greta van fluff #jake gvf #josh gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka x oc #josh kiskza fanfic #josh gvf fic

19 notes · View notes

astridellejo · 5 months ago

Text

The Silent Spear Maker of Tiger Seal Cove A story about Anouk, an airbender of the Southern Water Tribe

I spent eight weeks this summer drawing twelve (now thirteen) pages of what is basically a fan comic. I used up almost my entire webcomic buffer to do it. Set during the era of Avatar Korra, this is the origin story of my airbender OC, Anouk. I first made this character almost ten years ago not long after The Legend of Korra had ended, but didn't start fleshing out her story until recently. Now I'm beginning to think I'm going to wind up making a whole graphic novel about the airbender girlfriends!

So here's my little passion project. Thanks for reading!

Page descriptions in alts, page transcripts below the cut.

Page 1 Tiger Seal Cove. The Southern Water Tribe. On the day of Harmonic Convergence. A small fishing village of brightly painted houses are illuminated from within. The purple sky above shimmers with green spirit energy. A freckled woman with long brown hair sits in a dog sled like patio furniture and looks up at the lightshow. She foofs out a puff of air, closing her eyes and smiling.

Page 2 Two weeks later. The woman is in her workshop chiseling a design into bone. Around her at her workbench are an assortment of tools as well as some of her spears that she has crafted. While there is a window looking out upon a snow covered hill illuminated by low winter sunlight, most of the light comes from an oil lamp below the window. Just to the side of the window is an old framed photograph of the woman's parents. She stretches broadly. Behind her is another workbench and more equipment. In the next room is a kitchen, stove, and low dining table. Looking in from outside, the reflection of the hillside is visible over the woman inside looking out. She smiles. Time to get up for a break! She swoops on a bolero-style jacket and heads out.

Page 3 She stands on the snow-covered icy hillside overlooking a small gathering of tiger seals snoozing on the beach. She goes through the waterbending forms for a water whip. On the attack strike, a sudden gust of wind blows by, loosing her hair from her hair stick. She rewraps her hair and looks around, confused about the sudden and inexplicable wind.

Page 4 She focuses her attention and moves through the attack strike once more. Again, a strong gust of wind blows by, this time fully blowing her hair down and sending her hair stick flying. She stares in shock at her hands? What is going on?! Behind her, the glow of the spirit portal aurora frames her head like glowing wings. She tries a few more swings and each time a gust of wind accompanies them. There is a wide panoramic shot from the icy blue mountains to the bright orange-yellow glow of the low late winter sunrise. A light breeze wafts by.

Page 5 A note on the front door reads: "Gone to Wolf Cove. Back in a few days. Anouk." Anouk sets out on a kayak journey to the city. A trail of bioluminescent algae accompanies her as she paddles through the early morning water. Once in Wolf Cove, Anouk ties her kayak to the pier and heads into the city to her waterbending dojo. On the street, other people are out strolling. One shop has four lanterns hanging above it in each color of the four nations.

Page 6 Inside the dojo, Anouk greets her bending master. No words are spoken. The dialogue balloons are pictographic. In the corner of the dojo is a large blue ceramic pot filled with water. The floor appears to be ice, with wood pillars emerging from it. The master arches her eyebrow with a wry smile and inquires if Anouk has done any waterbending yet. Anouk responds she's been practicing, but she's still not a waterbender. However, she did airbend. The master is shocked. Airbend? Anouk asks her bending master if she knows anything about the Air Nomads. The master ponders for a moment before asking if Anouk has a dog sled for travel.

Page 7 One sled rental later, Anouk is on her way to the White Lotus compound. The guards at the gate look at each other. The Water Tribe guard turns to the Fire Nation guard and says to him, "This might be our guest." He responds with a gruff, "We'll see." He scowls with piercing yellow eyes and yells out at Anouk, "Stop there! What is your business?" Anouk signs her name in Southern Water Tribe hand talk (which looks surprisingly like American Sign Language for some reason ). Panels below show the fingerspelling letters for A-N-O-U-K. The Fire Nation guard sheepishly turns to his colleague and says, "Oh. Uh, Rina? This is your department." Rina smiles and begins signing, "Can I help you?" A very excited Anouk rapidly signs, "I know this seems crazy, but I think I might be an airbender. I hoped to meet with Master Katara since she's the closest to an airbending expert in the South." Rina smiles with an excited, "Oh!" before resuming signing, "Yes! She told us to be on the lookout for any new airbenders!"

Page 8 Rina and Anouk sign with each other as Shen walks through the gate. Rina: Shen will let Master Katara know she has a visitor. Anouk: Thank you! Rina: If you like, I can interpret for you. Anouk: I would appreciate that! While Anouk waits for Shen to return, she gives scritches to the fuzzy polar bear dog who pulled her sled. Doggy closes his eyes and leans his head into Anouk's hand. Soon, Shen emerges from the gate and shouts loud enough to get Anouk's attention, "Hey!" He continues at a more reasonable volume, "Master Katara will see you now." Gruff Shen then wanders back to play with the polar bear dog. Rina follows Anouk into the interior of the compound as a nervous Anouk absentmindedly tucks her hair behind her ear.

Page 9 The legend herself, Master Katara, walks toward Anouk and Rina. "Welcome! I am Katara." Rina interprets this for Anouk. "Master Siqni was one of my students. When she contacted me and told me about you, I knew I had to meet you!" Katara smiles and tilts her head toward Anouk. "I'm so glad she thought to send you to me! Please, tell me about yourself." Anouk begins signing while Rina interprets saying, "My name is … Anouk. I craft fishing equipment in the village of … Tiger Seal Cove. I like to practice bending forms for exercise and meditation. Even though I've never bent an element in my life."

Page 10 Anouk continues signing while Rina interprets saying, "But the other day, a strange thing happened during my practice. I started airbending! Since you are the matriarch of the only airbenders in the world, I thought you might know how this happened." Katara's monologue: I'm not entirely sure. Though I expect the Harmonic Convergence had something to do with it. My son, Bumi, radioed me a few days ago with the incredible news that he was suddenly an airbender! At first he wasn't sure if he was simply a late bloomer. After all, airbending does run in our family! But then my youngest son, Tenzin, told me he'd received word of more airbenders in the Earth Kingdom. An inset circular panel shows a very excited Tenzin on the radio. Katara continues: He told me to keep my eyes open for other new airbenders, because they could be anywhere. And here you are! Anouk smiles.

Page 11 A wide shot of the three of them in the compound shows the wide space available for Katara's request. "Anouk… Could you show me your airbending?" Anouk begins the water whip forms, which is not lost on Katara. Just as before, the final strike releases a strong gust of wind. Katara is shocked. Here is an airbender before her who is not related to her. "Oh, Aang! It's really happening! The airbenders have returned!"

Page 12 Katara holds a teapot and pours. Steam wafts up from the hot green tea as it flows into the cup. Katara walks around the dining table to her seat. She speaks to Anouk as Rina interprets. "Tenzin told me he'll be traveling to the Earth Kingdom to meet the new airbenders there." Katara sits, placing the teapot back on its tray. Katara: And he encourages all new airbenders to go to Air Temple Island in Republic City. There they … you … can receive formal training on how to use this new gift from the spirits. What do you think? Anouk glances at Rina as she signs. Did Master Katara just say to travel to Republic City?! Anouk has a big decision to make.

Page 13 The note on Anouk's front door now reads, "Gone to Republic City. Back in a few months. Anouk." She puffs out a nervous foof as moonlight shimmers on the ocean behind her. Anouk is on a ship headed north. Three people behind her, one from each nation, sit on the deck benches to look at the moon while Anouk closes her eyes and smiles. She looks back at the city lights of Wolf Cove and how they pale in contrast to the glow of the bioluminescent algae kicked up by the ship and the majestic shimmer of the spirit portal aurora in the sky above. Her world has changed and she has no idea what's next.

#atla #tlok #avatar the last airbender #the legend of korra #atla fanart #tlok fanart #airbender #katara #tlok tenzin #harmonic convergence #tlok fanfic #comics #atla oc #tlok oc #original character #airbender anouk #airbender girlfriends #fan comic #fanart

18 notes · View notes

haveyouseenthisskeleton · 2 years ago

Note

S/O is a amazing artist who draws every single day for hours, however they never let skeleton see what they're actually drawing. Hiding away in a dark room, and blocking the screen whenever Skeleton tries to look.

One day, Skeleton finds a folder on S/O's computer that contains hundreds of drawings of Skeleton, and then they find another, and another, and another. Thousands of drawings all containing Skeleton in various different situations, and poses.

This is seemingly what S/O has been working on all this time, nonstop drawings of Skeleton, every day for hours.

Undertale Sans - He snorts. That's sure a hell lot of skeletons you got there. He won't tell anything, he's too nice for this, but he will definitely do more bone puns than usual which you found extremely suspicious. He might also put a lot of Papyrus gift bones in your bed for some reason. He will never tell you he knows. But he knows.

Undertale Papyrus - Even if he is very flattered you think he is so cool you would draw him thousands of time, he is just a little bit concerned about the number of drawings. It's quite a lot. Maybe a little too much. Hum. He won't say anything to not make you uncomfortable, but you can see him trying to look over your shoulder every time you're drawing and tries to make you draw something else by pressuring you with his presence lol.

Underswap Sans - He comes to you, your notebook in hands, and inocently says to you that if you wanted to see him naked so bad you just had to ask. You flush like hell and he is for sure very proud of himself.

Underswap Papyrus - He panicks and tries to back away. He slips on a thing on the floor and crashes in your art stuff in a very loud rumble. You run, scared, and find him lying on the floor, entirely orange and cover in paint and ink. He stays very still just in case it's enough for you not noticing him. Too much feelings for a day.

Underfell Sans - He chuckles evily and decides to do the same by drawing you naked. His plan was perfect until he remembered he has no idea how you draw people. You look like a rotting potato with sticks for legs and arms. Uh. Maybe it's not a good idea after all. Too bad that, as he's about to discard it, you snatch it from his hands. He feels so stupid he wrote your name at the top of the picture. He teleports away to cringe in his pillow, face entirely red. Please never mention this ever again.

Underfell Papyrus - He frowns, then counts the ribs on the picture, then lifts his shirt and counts his own ribs. He gasps. This is wrong! Your drawing is missing two ribs! How dare you! He stomps to join you and gives you your notebook. "IF YOU HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH MY BODY AT LEAST DRAW IT WELL. IT MISSES TWO RIBS. ALSO THIS IS NICE AND MAYBE I LIKE IT." ... He turns bright red. He coughs and stomps out of the room, not looking you in the eyes.

Horrortale Sans - Wow. You really like him a lot uh. That's kinda nice. He's not too sure why there's thousands of drawings of him though, but, uh, he guesses you like him very much. He carefully tear off some pages so you don't notice and he puts one in his pocket and one in his diary to make sure he remembers what he just saw. He then comes back to you and hugs you, purring as hell. You ask him what makes him so happy so suddenly, he just shrugs and hugs you tighter.

Horrortale Papyrus - He doesn't know what to think of this. Willow is still struggling a lot with how he looks, and the fact you draw him so many times is both flattering and a bit... Well... Maybe you do that because he is weird and it fascinates you or something. He's a bit uncomfortable and prefers to act like he sees nothing. You can see him looking a bit uncomfortable when you're drawing and looking at him for too long. Maybe one day he'll tell you why, but he's not comfortable enough for right now.

Swapfell Sans - One evening, you enters in his room and finds all your drawings on the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Nox switchs on the light and slowly turns around on his chair to look at you. "What do you have to say to defend yourself?" You gulp. Before realising he has a stupid fake nose and mustache. You try to stay serious for more than 5 seconds but loses it. What the hell? Nox doesn't care about the drawings. He thinks it's entertaining how obsessed you are with his body. Do you have something to confess? He's listening.

Swapfell Papyrus - He bursts in the room, in a red dress, a wig on the head, high heels and bright lipstick, and he throws himself on your lap screaming "Draw me like one of your French girl!" in a melodramatic voice, holding your notebook to your face. You are devastated, face entirely red, and you can't look away as he is wiggling his fake eyebrows at you sensually. You want the couch to eat you alive.

Fellswap Gold Sans - It's really hard to make Wine blush. But here he is. The more is looking and the more he's blushing uncontrolably, and the more he tries to stop looking, the more he keeps looking. When Coffee opens the door, he lets go a high pitch scream and screams "I WAS NOT LOOKING NAKED DRAWINGS OF MYSELF DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE SAY SOMETHING BROTHER!!!" Coffee just stares at him, eyes frowned suspiciously, then shrugs. "k', have a nice day mr tomato". He gasps, offended. "I'M NOT A TOMATO!" You enter the room at this moment. He looks at you and flushes bright red. Shit, he's a tomato.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Oh. You're doing this too. He flushes bright red. He can't really say anything. He has like thousand of drawings of you as well actually. Maybe you two could exchange notebooks one of these days. ... Or maybe not. That's weird. Coffee needs some time in his closet to think about it. He might still have your notebook with him to look at your drawings.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

88 notes · View notes

stxrshxpxd · 2 years ago

Text

🌷 fic friday;

“i’ve gotta paint you”

graham coxon x reader,, fluff

Graham sat with wide eyes in a bundle of his own limbs under the mirrors. We both looked so small in the vast emptiness of the dance studio. I was more used to it being filled to the brim with other dancers, bags, clothes, music and harsh, bright sunlight. The sun had almost set now and was painting half the walls a golden orange colour.

“I don’t think I’ve been in here before,” Graham said over the soft piano music from the CD I’d brought. He had looked away from my warming up and stretching for the first time in several minutes, now looking around the room.

“Makes sense, I suppose. You haven’t had a ballerina girlfriend until now,” I said from my deep lunge and laid my forearms flush with the floor. We were both studying at the same university, him art and me dance, and we had been casual friends for the first two years, and only just began dating a month ago. He had insisted he watch me rehearse tonight, him having quite a soft spot for ballet.

I made my way back up to standing and began twisting and turning my bruised feet and toes, all possible joints cracking and Graham grimacing at me.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” he asked with concern written across his soft face. His entire forehead and eyebrows were covered by his thick, dark fringe and, as a bad habit, he was biting on the nail of his index finger. I smiled at his question but didn’t answer.

“Am I ruining the illusion of ballet for you?” I laughed and felt satisfied when I managed to crack both ankles. “This is the reality of it,” I added and then, without thinking, did a warm-up pirouette. Graham’s grimace turned to softly parted lips and wide eyes again in an instant.

“The illusion is restored,” he assured and I chuckled and did another one. My cheeks blushed but I also felt boastful at Graham hugging his calves and propping his chin on top of his knees, staring at me through massive pupils. I began to mark through my choreography with a little smile on my lips the whole time, snapping my eyes back at Graham whenever I could.

“I’ve gotta paint you someday,” he muttered under his breath as I came to the end of my sequence. I had heard what he said but his hushed tone still prompted an impulsive “what?” from me as I waddled up towards him, leaning down.

“I’ve gotta paint you someday,” he repeated somewhat louder as I sat down on my bum with my nylon-clothed legs enclosing his body. My hands came up to the sides of his cheeks and a smile grew on my lips.

“God, why did it take me two years to realise how cute you are?” I whispered and pressed my lips against his, feeling him giggle into my mouth and reach his own hands out to wrap around my waist.

#grahams obsession with ballerinas is sooo!!! 🥹🫶#britpop #90s #blur #graham coxon #fic #imagine #fluff #graham coxon x reader #fic friday

59 notes · View notes

heartbeatan · 2 years ago

Text

The Art of Revenge (Chapter 3)

Return to Chapter 2.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to One Nights Series.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 3

For the brief, quiet moments after you stepped into Jungkook’s foyer, your nerves slipped away as you forgot why you were in his home at all. As mentioned, you hadn’t gotten a good look at the inside of the house the one and only time you had been there. You had a tent, and only entered through the mudroom to use the toilet and - if you were lucky - the shower.

But now, walking through the front door, and stepping into the main space bathed in the bright, warming light of the sun, you were awe-struck. The entire interior was made of poplar wood - from the live-edge wall planks, the trunk beams, to the paneled ceiling. The natural orange shade of the wood wasn’t over-bearing or too rustic - perhaps because Jungkook’s furniture and decor was so airy and light. Most rooms opened to each other, yet were divided by a slight change in elevation, with the main hall acting essentially as a catwalk between them all. To the right was the living room, which was about three stair steps below where you stood. Its West-facing wall was nothing but tall glass windows. The North wall, of course, had a large, stone fireplace that looked as if it should have several antlers displayed above it. The back of the living room was lined with some more stairs - two-steps up to the kitchen area, and five-steps up to what you assumed was some sort of dining room nook. There were so many windows. So much natural light.

You peered ahead through the hall, and noticed a few more doors and openings - all also trimmed with stair cases that either took you up or down. Although you couldn’t see much of it, the space at the end of the hall was pure white, and de-elevated a bit deeper than the rest of the rooms. You assumed it was his studio - there was no other reason to cover up such beautiful architecture if it weren't for functionality. Your eyes followed another set of stairs upwards, and you noticed there was a partial second level. Just a straight hallway, leading to what you assumed were two bedrooms and maybe a bathroom. It was lined with wrought iron banisters, which overlooked the many rooms below.

“Victoria’s Secret?” You were suddenly jolted out of your trance, jumping slightly as you were reminded that Jungkook was standing just behind you.

“Sorry?” you twisted around, looking at him confused.

“Your bag,” he nodded to the wide, stiff paper shopping bag you had clutched in your hands. “You did a little shopping?”

“Oh!” you looked down to see the company’s name scrolled across the paper, which at one point only housed your wedding lingerie. “I, um, didn’t really go home after… everything. This is my suitcase for now, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Makes sense. There’s not a lot of those types of fancy stores on the way up here.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, thinking of how difficult it was to find even a discount store. “Sorry to disappoint. If things were different, I would have come... better prepared.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved, and you liked what it implied. He was thinking about you… and lingerie… and you liked how the image it painted reflected in his eyes. He stepped towards you, slowly and casually - not in any way aggressive or threatening. But - it felt threatening as he closed the space between you. Threatening in a thrilling way. You once again became hyper aware of his size, of his tall legs and broad shoulders, feeling like you were being dwarfed by his physicality as well his mere existence. His eyes were on yours, glinting with a touch of mischief as he stepped just too suggestively close to you. Then he bent slightly at the waist, and you felt his fingers brush over yours as he grabbed a hold of the string handles of your bag.

“Lemme help you with your suitcase, then” he said, a wry grin teasing his lips as he curved his tongue around the words, and slipped the bag out of your hands - respectfully leaving your purse with you. He had brains.

You exhaled a smile, realizing he was teasing you - and also realizing that somewhere within the past few seconds, you had been holding your breath. “I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

“Hm,” he chuckled, then winked, “not all the time."

You werent entirely sure he meant it as an innuendo, but regardless, his words sent a delicious shiver up your spine.

He then stepped across the hall to a set of french doors next to the foyer and across from the living room. The glass panes were protected from the inside with soft, white door curtains, so you didn’t know what was behind them, until Jungkook opened one, and you caught a glimpse inside.

A king-sized bed. A bedroom. His bedroom.

“This your room?” you pointed into the space beyond him. You were a bit surprised. You had figured his room was on the top level overlooking the sunrise, not right next to the common areas and overlooking the driveway.

“Yup,” he nodded proudly, once again holding the door for you to follow him in. The gesture was simple, but it felt far from simple. This was his room, in his home - and you hadn't realized what a symbol it was until you were invited into it. This was where you were going to let another man touch you; where you were going to put the nail into the coffins of Chris and Stephanie; and, where you were going to be starting anew. Being invited into his bedroom somehow made everything feel so… real. Yet, somehow, you felt… okay.

You followed Jungkook, your body buzzing as you brushed passed his hulking form, as you stepped into yet another impressive space in his house. Much like the living room, the windows were floor to ceiling, and the room was soft and romantic against the orange wood. You looked out over the yard, indeed noticing the driveway, the front lawn, and the party barn near the tree line. Back at home, a front facing bedroom with floor to ceiling windows would be a nightmare. Hell, a back facing bedroom was nightmare enough. If you forgot for even a second that you hadn’t closed your curtains, you were sure to put on a show for at least five households. But out here, in the quiet, with no passers by, you supposed the rules were different. You could easily make love under the silver shine of the moon and stars, without the risk of being seen by a neighbour walking their dog. What an intriguingly pleasant idea.

Looking further beyond the tree line, you understood why this room was built as such. The scenery was remarkable, and promised views of red sunsets and pink skies. In the distance, you could make out a valley following a curvy stream of water, which was lined with what appeared to be orchards and possibly vineyards.

You turned back to Jungkook. He had taken a seat on the corner of his bed, stretching his arms behind him as he leaned back to balance himself over his palms. His long, lean torso and welcoming lap were now on display - and with the twitch of your awakening pelvic muscles, you remembered again why you were here.

The room then became silent, as you stood there, holding your purse like a cross – you avoiding his gaze – and both of you wondering how to move forward. This was the awkwardness that you feared. What was the formality here? Should you talk some more first, or just bite the bullet and get down and dirty? You were the one who propositioned him, did that mean you should be the one to make the first move? Or was it better if the “favour-giver” was the one to first offer themselves? Why was Jungkook doing this for you at all?

You considered crossing the floor, and seductively crawling onto his lap to mount his hips, but the more you thought about it, the more you talked yourself out of it. Instead, you decided to fill the space between you with mindless banter.

“I can’t believe you own this place,” you admired, once again looking out the window. “It must’ve cost you a fortune.” You immediately regretted speaking. You barely knew Jungkook, and even though you were about to have sex with him, it still felt inappropriate to be commenting on his finances. You spun around quickly, looking as apologetic as you could. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anything.”

“Nah,” Jungkook shrugged and smiled, like you were being ridiculous for apologizing. “I am lucky. This was my grandparent’s getaway cabin. I inherited it. I wouldn’t be able to afford it otherwise.”

“Nice,” you awed in some pathetic version of a 90s surf dudebro. Once again, you regretted it, and - once again - looked at him with wide, embarrassed eyes. “I mean… not nice that they died. I'm sorry for your loss."

Get it together, you idiot, you chastised yourself.

But Jungkook wasn’t in the least bit phased. He didn’t look offended, in fact, he even laughed through the bemused smile he had already been giving you.

“It is sweet… I don’t have a mortgage, and I’m completely off-grid." Now he was just boasting. “So… yeah… I don’t have any major bills to manage. That’s why I can get by making pennies and doing whatever the fuck I want for a career.”

"I thought your businesses were doing really well?” you furrowed your brows, as you leaned against a heavy wooden dresser. You didn’t know how much a painter and photographer made these days, but as far as you knew, he was in demand on the graphic design front. “Stephanie is always talking like you're some sorta secret billionaire," you laughed.

It was then that his face dropped, and you realized your grace period of stupid, none-of-your-business banter was over. You felt instantly guilty, and perhaps terrified that you had destroyed your refuge.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately sputtered out. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just nervous and trying to make stupid small talk… Just tell me to shut up when I’m being too much.”

“No, no, no” he shook his head regretfully, as he pushed himself to sit upright. “Don't apologize. It’s not you. It’s…” he paused as he thought about his answer, then grimaced just before he continued, "Stephanie says a lot of things. I just worry about you having the wrong impression of me because of her."

You felt relieved. He wasn’t upset at you - at least he said as much. He just didn’t like the mention of Stephanie.

It was strange. She had always venerated him, and talked about him and her as if they were thicker than thieves. And yet, in under a five minute phone conversation, he had agreed to break her heart. And now you were here, and it was clear he had a visceral reaction to just the mention of her name. You put a pin in that thought to be inquired about later.

“Still… feel free to tell me to shut up when I need to… Nicely, of course.”

He chuckled softly, “Yeah, okay."

Silence befell you both once more, only this time, you decided to avoid useless conversation and your potential fourth strike – and instead, cut right to the chase.

“I don’t know how to do this. I’m sorry, I’ve only been with Chris for the last... ever… I don’t… I don’t know what to do next.”

He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, but didn’t answer. Your gaze followed his face as he stood up from the bed, and as he began to stroll across the floor towards you. Your skin instantly felt on alert, buzzing more fervently with each inch closed. You didn’t consciously decide too, but at some point you were off the dresser and standing to attention. When he reached you, he wrapped a large hand gently around your hip, pulling himself close enough to tease you with the faint brush of his hips against yours. He took your purse from your hands, setting it aside. Your palms reached up to rest over his chest, and his other hand smoothed itself along the length of your arm in a touch that felt too intimate to have been had with a near stranger. But it felt so good…

You looked up at him, not able to meet his eyes for long since they wanted to fixate on his beautiful mouth, and the freckle that adorned his lower lip.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, soothing, but also low, with a hint of a gravel, " I was thinking maybe you and I should just dive right in and break this ice first?” His hand caressing your arm now dropped and slid around your waist.”

Fuck, yes, your mind screamed, as your lips curled and eyes narrowed into a gracious and seductive display of agreement.

“I think you’re right,” you said, with all the uninhibited confidence you possessed - until it diminished. “I mean… if you really want to.”

“I do,” he nodded, his hand once more brushing up your arm and towards your neck, while his grip on your hip tightened.

“Seriously,” you continued, as your desire began to collide with your apprehension. “Because I know you said you would, but you’re allowed to change your mind.”

“I haven’t,” he assured you, pulling your bodies tighter together as his fingers snaked their way into your hairline and his thumb cradled your jaw. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No, not at all!” you nearly shrieked. You definitely hadn’t changed your mind - especially now that you could feel the stiffness behind his pants pressing into your belly. “I just, want you to know that you don’t–”

“Y/N,” Jungkook interrupted you with a stern, yet flirty whisper of your name. “I'm going to kiss you. So, unless you have some sort of objection, I’m telling you nicely to shut up.”

You accepted his light scolding with a sheepish smile and nod. “Okay. I’m mean, no, I have no objections.”

“Good,” he returned a faint smile of his own, his lips widening and curving gently - until he dipped his face forward, and tilted your head high so those lips of his could gently curve against yours.

The kiss was soft… not in the way that it was unsure and timid - it was tender in a way that was meant to be reassuring and soothing.

You liked it, but you weren't quite sure what to make of your liking it. You had made a promise to never kiss another man other than Chris, and now you were kissing Jungkook - and you felt nothing but good about it.

Jungkook broke the kiss, angled his head to the other side, then brought your mouths together once again. The kiss was still gentle, but firmer than before. You felt yourself melting into him. Knowing he had begun to caress your caution away, he dropped his hand at your face and brought it down to the small of your back. You slid your arms over his shoulders, then braided them behind his neck – you now the one encouraging further contact.

You felt your ass press against the dresser behind you, as Jungkook had managed to walk you against it, and wave his bulge tight against your groin. Your lips parted in a small, silent gasp – and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

The flavour of him was foreign – shocking at first, since you were so use to the taste of Chris – but it was also delicious, hot, and exciting. His tongue moved against yours with languid precision, and for some reason, it ignited something delicious, hot, and exciting deep in your gut.

Your kiss soon became more, then more. His hands began to roam the expanse of your body – his fingers leaving a wake of goosebumps over the skin just above your jeans and just barely under the hem of your shirt.

It was happening…

He was getting ready to fuck you, and damn, were you ever ready to be fucked by him. His hands crept higher under your shirt, smoothing around the curves of your waist to the hollows of your back as he pulled you in closer. You wanted more, and you wanted it faster. You wanted more of your skin exposed, more of your flesh kneaded in his hands, more of his body pressed against yours… more of his hot, wet mouth kissing you.

In a quick decisive moment, you chose to initiate the “more.” You had propositioned Jungkook, and he had made first contact – now it was back to you to take you both to the next level.

You untangled your arms from behind his shoulders, and dragged your palms firmly over his chest – now elated at the idea of seeing everything you felt beneath his t-shirt. You raked your nails over his abdomen, until they caught the hem. You then pulled the cotton gently north, and Jungkook got the memo. He released his hold on you, reached behind his head to grab his collar, helping you strip him of the garment in one, smooth motion. His hands were immediately back on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours as he moved to start kissing you again – but your gaze was trained elsewhere.

You splayed your palm across the solid planes of his chest, sweeping appreciatively over them as you admire just how fucking beautiful his body was. You should have known… rock climbing and hiking among other outdoor activities were hobbies he was known for.

“My God,” you whispered outloud, unaware you had said anything at all.

He chuckled a soft smile, “You see something you like?”

“Ha!” you grinned, completely not embarrassed by how you were so obviously drooling over him. He was gorgeous, and it was a crime to not let him know that. You looked up at him, showing him every ounce of desire you felt that your eyes could convey. “I always liked what I saw.”

“Yeah?” he tilted his head, his ego lacing with a touch of disbelief.

“Of course,” you said more seductively than you intended to – but it worked as you leaned forward, pressing your lips over a muscular plank, your tongue taking a few liberties with his dark, peaked nipple.

“Good to know,” he took the compliment, and you were delighted to hear a bit more arousal in his tone. His hands dropped to the hem of your tank top. You raised your arms above your head as he peeled your shirt off your body, and discarded it to some unknown corner on the floor. He wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you cautiously as if you might try to escape, while the index finger of his free hand began to trace a line over the hills and valleys of your now expose torso. There was so much praise and worship and need in the way his eyes drank you in. You hated that it made you think about Chris , but you couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time you felt so damn desired.

Jungkook hummed some throaty growl of appreciation, as his fingers began to dance with the lace lining your bra. Your nipples tingled and puckered at the prospect of being worshipped as well.

His three fingers then dropped into the front of your cup, and he pulled downward and released your breast from its confines. In a short instant, Jungkook dropped his head, and you stretched your neck as you felt the heat of his mouth engulf the sensitive bud. He hummed as he sucked you into his mouth, and the vibration rippled through you, making you hum along with it.

He moved to your other breast, only instead of springing your wanton nipple free, he teased over its lace covering. He laved at the fabric with a long, firm swipe of his tongue, leaving your bra hot and dampened, and then cool and tantalizing as the drafty house air swept over it. He licked at it again, sucking the lace and your nipple gently between his teeth, and releasing them to snap back into place. You yelped a little - like you had been shocked by static.

Jungkook grinned triumphantly against the mound of your breast, then caressed the flesh with a kiss that more resembled a bite. His lips made their way up your chest, your neck, your jaw – each inch breached mimicking an inch his body pressed tighter against yours. You graciously reveled in the contact, scooping your arms under his shoulders, and digging your fingers into the solid, muscular columns that lined his back. You wanted to wrap your legs around him, and feel every twitch and stretch of his movements against you. You wanted his pants gone - and yours - to feel more of his erection rubbed over your core. You wanted his skin and his weight to smother you, and to feel your breasts flattened against that sculpted chest of his.

As Jungkook’s hands found their way into the back of your pants, and as he began to knead at the generous flesh of your backside, you reached behind yourself and unclasped your bra, feeling stimulated by their liberation. But they weren’t free for long – not if Jungkook had anything to do with it. His face, which had been focused on nibbling at your ear, pulled from your neck so he could peer down at your chest, and he deftly helped you pull the straps off your shoulders.

You found yourself in a familiar position, his one arm holding you near him, your hips swaying in tandem against each other, while his other hand now squeezed its way over your now completely naked torso. With his lower lip tucked tightly between his teeth, his dark, hooded eyes raked gluttonously over your various silhouettes – admiring every shadow and freckle.

You felt a blush stirring behind your cheeks as you watched him inspect you with such raw appreciation. “See something you like?” you volleyed Jungkook’s question back at him.

“I’ve always liked what I saw,” he retorted with a roughly spoken volley of his own.

God… you thought. If this was only the foreplay to the foreplay, you were in for a very erotic ride. Speaking of foreplay…

He released the tension he had on your body, and his hands dropped to the button of your pants. He didn’t rush to undo it, nor did he take his sweet-ass time. You felt the rumble of your zipper as it passed over your mound, and he caught your lips again just as his palming of your denim-clad junction made you gasp.

You took the opportunity to press your breasts against him, moaning into his mouth as you took pleasure in what you had been wanting for these past few minutes. His skin was warm and smooth against yours; his body felt strong and solid, like you were pulling yourself against a brick wall and not a man. You could feel the faint beat of his heart thumping behind his ribs, and you could sense how each of his muscles tensed and relaxed as he found pleasure and intrigue in your kiss.

He dug his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, and began pulling them south off over your hips. In that moment, you wished you hadn’t worn such skin tight pants. You wished they would just puddle to the floor so you wouldn’t have to let him go. He reluctantly broke your kiss, but made up for it as he trailed a path of licks and nips down the length of your body, peeling your pants off your limbs. He helped you step out of the legs, and your jeans too became lost somewhere in his room.

Kneeling before you, face-to-face with your panties guarding your dampened pussy, he began to gingerly rub the length of your thighs. That was when you noticed, and he noticed, that you were trembling.

“Are you okay?” he looked up at you without judgment.

“Yeah,” you replied. You were okay – you didn’t know why your body was reacting this way when your soul felt completely on board. “I want to. I think I’m just… overwhelmed… I don’t know. I never thought I’d be with anyone else. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” his palms ran soothing circles over your skin. “We’re here on your terms. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want you to keep going,” you said assuredly, punctuating with a rapid nod. “It feels good. I feel good. I’m having a good time.”

He smiled, “Me too.”

Then, something shifted behind his gaze. With a blink, it had gone from empathetic and concerned, to heated and filthy. He kept his eyes locked on yours, and you felt like they had a mystic power to prevent you from looking anywhere else but at him. You felt his fingers squeeze tighter into your flesh as he pulled his face toward your pussy. You held your breath, like you were watching the scene below you in slow-motion. You shifted your weight as you braced yourself for contact. His lips parted, and you saw his tongue relax and drop, just before he latched his mouth wide, and firm over the cotton guarding your clit.

“Oh!” a noise trembled off your tongue, as heat engulfed your centre, and as you felt his wet muscle wave strongly into the bud. He detached himself, tilted his head, and repeated the action, wetting your panties with his saliva to compliment the way his prior ministrations had already dampened them. He detached again, tilted again, and licked you again from a new angle – several times over. It was a stunning sensation of moving between the heat of his mouth when he covered you, to feeling the wet coolness when he exposed you. Perhaps Chris had once been like this – back in your early days together, but you couldn’t recall. With Chris, sex was a clinical and familiar race to climax. Not that it wasn't good sex – it was great to have a partner who knew how to get you off. But you couldn’t remember ever being teased by him, or making time to make sex an erotic adventure. But with Jungkook, and the way he handled you – not worried about needing to get to work in an hour, or back to the household chores, or whatever your busy, domestic lives demanded of you – with Jungkook, it felt like you had all the time in the world.

Moments ago, you felt a rush to have more of him – but now, you felt beyond contented to just let him devote whatever he wanted to you.

You watched adoringly, your lip twisted between your teeth as you absorb the tiny but mounting bouts of pleasure. You braced yourself with one hand over the edge of the dresser, but then let the other drop and smooth over his hand clutching around your thigh. He appreciated your gesture, twisting his wrist so he too could tug gently on your forearm.

He then pulled his face tight and firm into your panties, and your breath hitched as you felt his teeth and lips nibbling around your labia. He pulled back, the fabric of your panties stretching as he pulled them roughly with his teeth. He released them with a snap, and your hips jolted, and you yelped as you felt the cotton-poly-blend slap back against you.

He grinned impishly again – and you began to realise that teasing and shocking his partners was apart of his sex repertoire. The notion thrilled you.

You expected him to resume eating you out – albeit you were hoping that he would strip you of your soiled panties first. But he didn’t. Instead, he began to rise from the floor, until he was once again looming over you, and caging you between himself and the dresser.

“How you feeling?” he asked, and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.

How were you feeling? The space between your legs was practically a splash pad. He could have easily sunk his bare cock into you minutes ago without any remorse. So, how were you feeling: You were feeling nothing but respect and appreciation for his commitment to detail.

“I, uh,” you nearly laughed as you tried to answer him. “Yeah, I think I’m feeling pretty damn good.”

He laughed as he caught your meaning. You scraped your hands down his torso, then let your fingertips dance around the waistband of his pants. “Can I help make you feel good?” you asked suggestively.

“Mm,” he craned his neck as he thought about it. He definitely wanted you to, but something was holding him back.

“Maybe later. I promised you a good time - I intend to make good on it.”

"Well,” you drawled as you grazed and teased the underside of his waistband, and felt his abs jolt in excitement. “You're off to a good start. But, I like to pull my weight." You then slipped your palm over his pants, and gave his bulge a light squeeze. He rewarded your action by choking slightly on the air. "Lemme suck your dick, Jungkook."

He definitely liked that idea. It was written all over his face, and taut all over his body. He was perhaps a bit taken aback by your forwardness. But he didn't budge on his resolve.

"Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to come down your throat."

A thrilling tingle sparked through your groin as he said it. You liked that idea, so much so that you could practically taste him already. You also liked how the temperature between you was heating up and dirtying down. Perhaps your face didn't show your excitement, however, because Jungkook tilted his head in a slight grimace.

"Too much dirty talk?" he questioned.

“No,” you chuckled, respectfully abandoning his protected hard-on, and opting to slip your hands down the back of his pants to explore his impressive glutes. "Not dirty enough."

"Yeah?" He liked the sound of that too. His fingers then began to trace down your belly, lower, and lower, and lower - and your breathing became shorter and shorter. "What kinda words you like?"

His palm then dipped beneath your panties, and you felt a long set of fingers slip their way through your folds, and the heel of his hand press firm over your clit. Your jaw slackened, and your back arched to buck your hips into his hand. He looked pleased at how you reacted to his touch.

He drew his fingers north, slithering them through your folds, brushing the length of your labia, until they flattened and tugged hard on your clit. Your fingers instead curved, shaping into talons seeking purchase over any bit of his flesh they could find.

"What can I say to turn you on, Y/N?" he prompted you again. You weren't sure you were expected to answer - it was clear on his wolfish grin that he enjoyed how wordless he was making you.

"Um… I don't know... everything?" you panted an answered, although you weren’t sure if it was the right answer… you weren’t really sure of anything right now.

"Mm," he hummed as he thought, dipping his fingers low and pulling them north again. "Cock?"

"Of course," you laughed. But you supposed it was possible some people didn't care for the term.

His index finger slid south again, and teased itself around your entrance. Your kegels clenched as they prepared for him to invade you - but he didn’t. Not yet. He languidly split his way through your slick slip, and parted your folds to expose your clit to the elements. "Pussy?"

"Yes," you swallowed.

"Cunt?" he said as you bucked against him again. He began to swirl a finger in delicate circles around your clit, and you began to burn from the inside out.

"Sparingly," you conceded. He increased his pressure and speed, now assaulting the nub of nerves with a clear intent. This was no longer teasing, this was no longer a quest to make you wet and ready for him… this was the first click of the route to a proper orgasm. “Oh, shit!” you keened, biting your lip as you bowed your head against his chest. You panted a few audible whines as you got used to his ministrations. When you found balance, you lifted your chin to look up at him, only to find yourself off-balanced again. God, the way he looked at you was intoxicating. He was so focused on his task, and so concentrated on reading your every micro-reaction to his touch. He enjoyed it all - he was getting off on how you looked, how you sounded, and he was high on the idea that he was the one making you feel this way.

He licked his lips, and you immediately wanted to kiss them again. But you couldn’t. A microgasm caught hold of your system, and all you could do was ride it out until it relinquished its control. But then another dirty word slipped from his kissable lips…

"Slut?" he asked somewhat cautiously. Truth was, you hadn't ever had that term brought into your sex life vocabulary - but the way it rolled off his fucking tongue, you knew you'd love to hear him say it again.

"Yes," you near whined, as the word and his fingers heightened your pleasure. You clamped your one hand firm around the back of his neck, while the other gripped tightly around his flexing bicep. "Oh... my God," you breathed, letting him know how good he was making you feel.

You were discovering just how much of an artist Jungkook was. Those long, slender fingers of his weren't only adept at painting beautiful pictures, or strumming an electric guitar. They knew exactly how to mold a woman's centre into a motherboard of primal, unrestricted pleasure. He played with your clit, finding just the right places to push, and just the right angles to rub. Then he'd zero in - raise the tempo, deepen the pressure, until your body began to convulse with the onset of an orgasm. Then he'd release you from it all, and palm your pussy with long, calming strokes to bring you back down - until he was ready to attack your senses again, bringing you just a bit higher than the last time.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." you sobbed after the umpteenth rise and fall. "Fuck... I want more.”

You weren’t sure what more it was you wanted - but you just needed more. More of his lips, more of his fingers… more of him… “I want you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you, Y/N,” he said with a menacing tease. That wasn’t what you meant, and he damn well knew it. So… he was the kind who liked a girl to beg.

“I want you inside me."

Once again, the corner of his mouth pulled in a look of delicious and devious satisfaction - there was something about it that you didn’t trust.

He dipped his hand deep into your panties and in a quick move, he returned his fingers to your entrance; and, in an even quicker moment, he stuffed two of his digits deep inside you - nearly lifting you off his floor with their swiftness and strength.

“Ugh!” you mewled, as the action made you feel heady with vertigo. His fingers flapped rapidly inside you, and every ounce of air you had in your lungs became caught in your throat, as your body began to vibrate in time with his flicks.

"Like this?" he asked arrogantly. "You want me inside you like this?"

It also wasn't what you exactly had in mind, but you certainly weren't complaining.

"Jungg–" your vocal chords restricted and your body heaved against him. He squeezed you closer to him with his free arm around your waist, and brought your faces so close together, you could kiss him deep and fervent if you had the ability to do so. He slipped his fingers down your chamber, then shoved them hard and fast back into you - tapping madly against the now discovered pleasure points inside you.

He let the tip of his nose trace softly over your nose, and his lips brush lightly over your lips as he teased you with a kiss. But a tease was all it was - you didn’t have the power to take it further - not when your body was seizing and sputtering without any control.

"Or you, want something bigger?" he asked, tilting his chin as he peered down his nose at you. “You want my dick?”

"Yes," you managed to sputter out.

“Yeah? You wanna take this cock like a good little slut?”

Holy fuck. Your mind and body reacted immediately, and he knew it all too well. Your pussy muscles immediately constricted around his fingers - clamping down on them so hard that he struggled to jostle them through your chamber.

“Oh, fuck, you like that, eh?” he derided, and you never felt so… corrupt.

“Yes,” you cried out your command. “I want your cock inside me, baby.”

“Hm, baby,” he tested the word out. “I like the sound of that.”

“Fuck me and I’ll call you whatever you want,” you said, surprising both yourself and him with how controlled and demanding your tone was.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jungkook smiled as he withdrew his fingers from you. You immediately jumped into action, stripping yourself of your panties and kicking them aside while Jungkook worked away at his own pants. You were done before he had managed to even undo his belt buckle. You swatted his hands away from the metal, and deftly worked to unfasten it, his button, and his zipper in under four seconds.

You half expected him to laugh and tease you about your urgency, but instead he too was overcome with the need to take you right there. He crushed his lips to yours, roughly pulled your bodies together, and violently kicked his pants off his ankles. Within milliseconds, he had you hoisted onto the dresser, his body nestled between your thighs. At the same time, you both reached down between your bodies, to take a hold of his throbbing, dripping cock.

“Oh, shit,” Jungkook suddenly exclaimed - although not in the sexy way, but in the we-have-a-problem kind of way.

“What?” you looked at him, your voice sounding more annoyed than alarmed. What the fuck could possibly be the problem?

“We didn’t talk about protection and shit.”

“Oh,” you shook your head, now feeling silly and a touch irresponsible. “Yeah, um, okay. What are you comfortable with? I’m on birth control and I got a rapid STD test after I found out about… them.”

“So…” he looked at you cautiously. “You… wanna… bare back it?”

Yes, was your reckless reaction. Frankly, you had a deep and twisted desire to let Jungkook inside you without any barriers. You hadn’t allowed Chris that privilege until you were at least six months into your relationship. It was a sign of intimacy, of trust, and of devotion - things he threw away with no regard. So, the idea of letting Jungkook shift your kidneys with his raw, unguarded cock felt like a stab to Chris… even if you were the only one who knew about it. Regardless, you still had a sensible side, and your sensible side had one more question. “Are you clean?”

“Mm hm,” he nodded. “Saw the Doc last month. Clean bill of health. But I got condoms in my drawer,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and you followed where it led, noticing the bedside table which was maybe five strides across the room.

“It’s too far,” you grinned.

“You’re right,” his nose scrunched as he grinned back.

Although the interruption was minor, it was still enough to slow what had become a chaotic rush to bring yourselves together. Slowed… but not cooled.

Your lips met again, your tongues began to tangle once more - but this time, you were sure to savour it. To savour him… his taste, his tact, the small sounds that rumbled in the back of his throat, and echoing noises of your moving lips and hands.

You broke the kiss when you felt the tip of his cock pushing against your folds. You looked down, wanting to see his dick hard and erect before it disappeared inside you. Jungkook looked down too, and together you admired the scene. He held his member stiff in his hands as he guided the shaft along the length of your pussy, soaking it in your juices. He brought his tip to your clit, circling the bud several times, then tapping it a few times more - making you squirm and jolt with need and longing.

Then finally - fucking finally - he dragged the thick, pulsing head downward, and pressed it over the folds guarding your entrance. You shuffled over the dresser, spreading your legs a bit wider to allow him complete, unrestricted access. You reached downward, covering his cock holding hand with yours, and together you positioned him right where he needed to be - then he began his ascent.

You felt his tip breach past your folds, and watched as the first inch disappeared inside you. Your mouth fell open, as did his - and together you exhaled as he conquered another inch, and then another. The eroticism of it all caused your walls to quiver around him; quivering around him made your pussy tingle with pleasure; and pleasure forced your chamber to clamp down around his cock, unsure if it wanted to suck him into you or push him back out.

“Fuuuuck, Y/N,” Jungkook exhaled a groan. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Your pussy fluttered again, and his cock slipped further into you, meeting resistance, but persevering as he slid his way through you, until finally he was balls deep and bottomed out.

He pressed his forehead against your temple, kissing that sweet spot below your ear. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips on your skin, and how it complimented the delicious burn of your insides adjusting to his size. He reveled in the feeling of your silky walls around him, and snaked his hands around your hips to shuffle you and him into perfect alignment.

You began to burn with the need for him to move. You slid your one hand up his neck, then into his hair, pulling his face to yours so you could kiss him once more. You tightened your limbs around his waist, encouraging him in that way as well - but it was your words that inspired him the most.

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” you said as you tugged his head backwards, ensuring he could see how serious you were. His eyes flared with salacious desire, both loving the control and demand you had over him, but also challenged by it.

He drew his hips backwards in one long, slick drag of his cock, then pressed them forward - again, long, slick and filling. He did it again, testing his angles and adjusting himself accordingly, then again, and again… until he found a steady rhythm.

He pumped himself into you, and - God damn - did he ever feel fantastic. The way he moved through you, making you moan as he stuffed you full, and whine as he left you feeling empty. He rocked his hips in smooth, consistent waves - and you keened each time his mound pressed against your sensitive clit.

You dropped both your hands behind you, pressing them into the surface of the dresser and leaning back to let him fuck you deeper and harder. He did, and soon enough the squelch of his cock slipping in and out of you, and the claps of your hips colliding could be heard throughout the house.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you threw your head back, as a microburst of pleasure pulled your limbs tight with electric shock. “Oh, fuck.”

When you were able to look at him again, your heart began to beat with dangerous aggression. You couldn’t get over the way this man saw you, admired you. He bit his lip as he studied your face, and as his eyes drank in and appreciated every about your pleasure flushed body. He thrusted in and out of you, fixated on how your tits bounced, how the flesh of your thighs rippled with each impact, and how your belly restricted and relaxed between pumps. He seemed so damn controlled, like he was hours away from coming, whereas you were mere moments. But then, a deep, long, guttural groan rumbled up from within him, and you keened a high pitched noise at the way it turned you on.

“Ugh,” he exhaled again. “Ugh… uh…” each sound a touch deeper, signaling his rising climax.

“I’m–” you tried to warn him of the orgasm barreling towards you, but the moment you spoke, he grabbed you roughly under your ass - and before you knew it, you found yourself facing the wall, palms pressed into wood, and body bent over the dresser.

“Baby,” you keened as Jungkook re-entered you from behind. He somehow felt thicker, hotter, and longer as his cock once more filled your channel. He fucked into you once in a hard and fast pulse of his hips, and your hands skidded down the surface of the dresser. You then felt his fingers card their way through the hair on the back of your head and, with a light pull, he bent you backwards - making you stare yourself and him down in the mirror before you.

You wanted to call out to fucking God. The image before you was so hot and nasty. You could see clearly his sweat-dampened skin and how it pulled tight over his muscles, which contracted and flexed with each and every buck of his hips.

He began to fuck you mercilessly, and your calls to the heavens became primal roars for release. He was so thick and hot inside you. So rough and ruthless. He was no longer breaking the ice – he was breaking you apart.

Your eyes threatened to roll back in your skull, but you wanted so badly to see the images presented before you. You wished Chris could see this image. You wished Stephanie could see it too.

You didn’t know why… but that thought made you hornier than hell. You felt a fresh wave of arousal drip between your thighs and soak Jungkook’s dick. The thought of them watching you get fucked by this man. The way their faces would twist in jealousy and regret. The way Jungkook would threaten Chris with a possessive stare, and taunt Stephanie with the knowledge that you possessed him.

You reached between your legs, and began circling your clit with your fingers - wanting to capitalize on the feeling of Jungkook’s cock and the mess of your debasing thoughts. But he was having none of it…

He scooped an arm around your waist, and in another quick moment, you were off the dresser and weighted against his hard body. He grabbed a hold of your one tit in his palm, kneading and twisting your nipple with his fingers, while his other hand dipped down to replace your fingers which were pleasuring yourself. He wanted to be the one to make you come, all on his own.

You bent your neck backwards and over his shoulder, reaching behind his neck to cling again to the hair at his nape - needing something to tether you to the earth. He nibbled on your ear, bit into your shoulder, pinched your nipple, rubbed your clit, all while continuing to fuck you into oblivion.

You didn’t have a chance to warn him you were about to come - then again, it seemed as if he didn’t have a warning of his own. The moment his deep voice shot high in his throat and started to come out in short, pitched moans, was the moment you began to tumble off the edge.

“Ohhh!,” your orgasm squealed into the room, and your muscles pulled tight, bending your spine and curving your body into his. Your vision went dark, then burst with millions of technicoloured stars. Your hearing muffled, and you lost the ability to breathe. A pure, radiant tingle sparkled through your every vein, like your blood had been replaced with warm, bubbling champagne.

You felt Jungkook’s body begin to convulse against you, as his hand motions and waving hips became sloppy and erratic. He was coming too, and his hot, whining breaths on your shoulder ended in a heavy roar as he crescendoed, and long spurts of cum were released inside you.

You both fell forward - your hands finding the wood surface of the dresser again, and Jungkook finding your shaking and fragile body a sufficient place to rest his head.

You panted yourself out of the stars and back into reality, and Jungkook did the same. His hands were around the hollows of your hips, like he was holding you there, unwilling to let you move. You felt his lips then press warm over your spine, as he took a few moments to appreciate the taste of your post-coital skin.

“What’s this,” you heard his disheveled voice behind you, then you felt a heavy finger trace the small of your back - and you realized what he was referring to.

“That’s my tramp stamp,” you announced, laughing at the 16 year old that shamed you with the decision. “I don’t really like it.”

It was a fucking dolphin. Not a dolphin fucking, just a stupid dolphin you had zero attachment to. There were other reasons you didn’t like it - Stephanie was with you when you got your tattoo. She got one herself. They weren’t friendship tattoos or anything, but the memory of getting them together made it feel like it tethered her to you. You had big fish to fry these past few days, but now that you thought about it, it might be a good time to have it removed.

“It’s sexy. I love a good tramp stamp.”

“Thanks,” you said, as you moved to press yourself off the dresser. Jungkook pulled himself out of you, then guided you to turn around so he could hold you sweetly in his arms. “She was with me when I got it,” you gave him a comical shrug.

“Ah,” he nodded, understanding now. “I can cover it for you.”

“Right,” you mused, remembering that “Tattooist” was one of his alleged work-for-pennies jobs.

“I mean… maybe not right now. It's not a lot of fun fucking right after a back tattoo. The rubbing and all,” he winked. You chuckled.

“Okay, well… thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Jungkook stretched his arms a little further around you, pulling you tight against him. You wrapped your arms around him as well, and you pulled yourselves together for a sweet, but simple post-sex ceremonial kiss. When the kiss broke, he still held you there, smoothing his palm softly over the length of your back.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” he asked. “You hungry?”

“Um,” you looked around the room as you thought for a moment, unsure what you were supposed to do. With Chris, you’d either cuddle up in bed, or you’d run off to do something written in your day planner. But being up here, in Jungkook’s house, it was like you were trapped in a vacation. You didn’t have any commitments or responsibilities or expectations. You could just… be…

You looked up at him when you had an answer. “Do you think I could take a shower? I was in the car all night and all.”

“Sure,” he nodded. “You want company?”

You bit your lip to suppress your grin. You might like company… just not right now. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a few moments to myself… if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay. I’ll get you a towel.”

With that, he took you by the hand, and he walked you across his bedroom and towards a partially opened door. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but it was fair to assume it led to an ensuite bathroom. A luxury cabin like this had to have an ensuite bathroom.

You were close… the door led to a bathroom, but it first took you through a stupidly large walk-in closet.

“Oh my God,” you shrieked like a fanboy seeing his celebrity crush for the first time, and Jungkook snorted at your reaction.

“I didn’t know you had such a hard on for closet space,” he teased. "I'll fuck you in here if you'd like."

“Shut up, you don’t understand,” you slapped him gently with the back of your hand. He really didn’t understand. The closet was basically barren. He only used one measly section, and it was essentially nothing but t-shirts, sweat-shirts and jeans. He also didn’t understand because your house back home didn’t actually have any closets at all. It was a stupid oversight from the 20th century designer who built it, and it’s subsequent owners who did bare minimum reparations to it.

Jungkook gave your hand a tug, and you let him guide your drooling self through the closet and into the ensuite, where once again you gasped.

A tub.

A bathtub.

A real bathtub.

It was everything you looked for in a tub. It was long, and wide, and deep (like a great dick,) had jets, and no shower head was above it. You could easily soak in it and submerge your tits and knees under the water at the same time… and wasn’t that the dream?

It was also just incredibly romantic: flanked by riverstone tile, and installed next to a breezy window with soft views of a garden outside. You could instantly imagine yourself in it, surrounded by candles and bubbles, sipping a glass of wine as you enjoyed the warm breeze wafting into the space with the sounds of the forest. You could imagine Jungkook in there too - sitting at the other end of the tub, or perhaps you would be resting against his chest.

You shook the thought away. It was a nice fantasy, and if you were lucky, one you could explore… later. For now, you two had only fucked once, and this was a fucking arrangement. You didn’t need to start adding intimacy to the mix.

“You can use it if you want,” Jungkook shook you from your imagination. “I never do.”

“You don’t deserve this house, Jungkook,” you ridiculed him. “Unused walk-in closet, unused bathtub. Tsk.”

“Well,” he scooped you against him again, and you wrapped your arms around him... again. This act was beginning to feel as natural as it did with Chris. “Maybe you can show me how to live in it right.”

“Maybe,” you winked.

“Go ahead. Take a bath. Enjoy it.”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep in there and drown. I think I’m starting to feel the effects of my all-nighter.”

It was true. After your climax, you thought your muscles were feeling tired and drained from sex. But as the minutes passed since, you recognized that you were indeed just tired.

“Well, why don’t after you shower you take a nap? I’ll go make myself busy.”

“No, I don’t want…” you trailed off. It felt strange to kick Jungkook out of his own room when you had asked so much of him. “I don’t wanna sleep all afternoon and then be up all night.”

Jungkook’s gaze darken into something sadistic, and you were sure you could hear his thoughts. “I thought the plan was to be up all night, Y/N,” he said. Your nether regions agreed with him. “Do it. You’ll feel better.”

“Okay,” you nodded reluctantly. “Don’t let me sleep too long.”

“I won’t,” he promised with a final kiss before he let you go, then rummaged the cupboard for a towel.

You weren’t sure how long you had showered, but the water had felt so good over your skin and muscles that you just couldn’t pull yourself out of there. You were afraid you had nearly drained his tank. When you returned to his room, you discovered Jungkook’s windows had electric blinds, and that Jungkook had darkened the room for you. You also found an oversized t-shirt sprawled across his bed. It was a shirt from his band’s tour three years ago, and it was obvious he had laid it out for you to wear as pajamas. You took it in your hands, and brought it to your face, taking in a deep sniff of its scent. It smelt like him, like the soap you had just used in his shower. You were a touched pleased it didn’t smell like some other girl - although you wouldn’t be surprised if this shirt hadn’t already been worn by a groupie or two.

You pulled it on, then crawled under the sheets, groaning and stretching as your body recognized it was time to power down. You curled your body around a pillow, and within moments, you were fast asleep.

Go to Chapter 4.

#bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jjk

56 notes · View notes

healersadjust · 9 months ago

Note

makeup - for the single-word fic prompt!

Thank you so much for the prompt!!!!!!!!

Aki shouldn’t be here.

She should be off with the Scions, helping them with… Well, she doesn’t exactly know. But she should be there, at least as motivation, or whatever Minfilia said she needed her presence for last.

In the aftermath of the Crystal Tower, that’s honestly all she’s been able to do. Sit quietly at a table while people either look at her with pity or praise her for past deeds. Depends on how much they know, and who thinks they can get away with speaking to her when she’s so obviously not in the mood for chatting.

Aki’s pretty sure she had a meeting today, or needed to watch over some new recruits training, or something like that. But instead, she’s sitting on her aunt’s bed while they engage in some “girl time.”

“So, you’ll let me paint your nails, right? They’re so long!” It was technically a question, but Aki knew Cecelia meant it more as a statement.

“Oh, are my nails not fun to paint anymore?” Constianne teased as she leaned against the wall. “Suppose I’ll just paint them myself from now on.”

“Shush! Aki’s been gone for months!” Cecelia gave her sister a pointed glare. “Besides- I know that’s an empty threat.”

Constianne sticks her tongue out at Cecelia, and they continue their sisterly banter while Aki watches.

Its… Nice.

Aki is sure that both of them know that something’s wrong with her, but they certainly don’t show it. They know better than that. The two of them act like they always do, even if Aki doesn’t engage as much. They don’t give her knowing looks, they don’t ask about her time away from home. They let her set the tone, and they keep it the same until she switches things up again.

It’s nice, not to be treated like a stray kitten that people are afraid to scare off. Her aunts just treat her the same as they always do.

“Here, make a sign, won’t you?” Cecelia passes Aki a piece of paper and a marker. At the top, ‘No boys allowed!’ is written in big block letters. “So we can make our girls night official.”

Aki cracks a smile. “Like old times.”

“Duh!” Constianne pushes herself off the wall, taking a peek at the paper as Aki starts making silly drawings of Lucien and Florian.

After a few minutes, Aki hands the paper to Cecelia. “Write ‘Amil welcome’ at the bottom, please?”

Constianne raises her brows. “Amil?”

“He wouldn’t want to come in anyway,” Aki shrugs. “But if he did, I think some sparkly eyeshadow and bright lipstick would look quite nice, don’t you think?”

At that, her aunts laugh. Something about this makes the weight Aki’s been carrying for months ease.

“Your wish is my command!” Cecelia giggles as she writes it down. She walks to the door, opens it, and tapes the sign to the door.

“Alright, where do we start?”

The morning is quiet. Too quiet.

Lucien isn’t one to turn down any peace he can get in this house, typically. But with Aki home… The silence typically means Constianne has looped everyone she could into coming up with a prank to play on him. And as much as he wanted to cheer Aki up, he was NOT in the mood to have his clothes dyed an obnoxious shade of orange again.

He moves quietly, tip-toeing up the stairs. He’d like to catch them in the act, if possible. He opens the door to his room quietly and is shocked to see everything looks exactly how it should.

That must mean they’re planning something more like a glitter bomb- the most annoying of Constianne’s pranks.

He cursed under his breath and continues moving. When he reaches the door with the “No boys allowed- Amil welcome!’ sign, he presses his ear to the door.

He’s entirely shocked at what he hears. Instead of the usual chatter and sounds of chaos, he hears… Snoring? That can’t be. For all their faults, most of the family are morning people with a habit for causing chaos as soon as they rise.

He opens the door carefully to take a peek, and he’s even more shocked to see Cecelia, Constianne, Aki, and… Wait, is that Amil? Is he wearing bright green makeup?

He rubs his eyes. How in the seven hells did they talk the cryptid in the family to not only join them, but stay long enough to have neon green lipstick put on him?

Well- Lucien knows his duty, now. The others have to see this.

#v time bb #thank you so much for the inspiration for the first fuc i’ve written in months <3 #fic. im too lazy to fix that lol #i’m quite rusty #so if you see errors… no you don’t.

8 notes · View notes

greenacapella · 2 years ago

Text

Sunbeam

Summary: Kamal lies with Habit under the balcony. Content Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood/Violence, Body Trauma

He can't say that he hadn't seen something like this coming, no.

Smudges of paint with increasingly disturbing images plastered his office, his waiting room, hell, the whole Habitat if you squinted just a little. It wasn't hard to tell that his mind had tumbled down a rabbit hole of delusion, fear, grandeur, anything else you'd find in a psych textbook. But despite it all, Kamal hadn't ever truly given up hope. He'd walked side by side a man who smiled and laughed and would stay up late, late night making big plans for an intensely bright future, not just for them, but the whole world.

Everything about Boris Habit was larger than life; His grin, his strides, his stature, his hopes, his dreams. Which is why deep, deep sorrow twists it's way into Kamal's gut like a knife when he finally stops his frantic running through the fog, down to the sculpture known as Martha, to a silhouette that felt incredibly small.

He must have hit it on the way down, because a fair amount of strikingly vivid blood is visible on it's rusted, pale red side. Beside it, is a crumpled heap of blue, orange and green, and Kamal's stomach drops out of his soles as he stumbles on through the nitrous haze.

"Oh my god...", he utters, dropping to his knees shakily. The doctor is laid in a growing pool of blood with his head angled to the side, and eyes wide open, staring directly at the sun as it passes lazily by in the afternoon sky. His coat has managed to cover most of the other wounds on his body, but Kamal caught that his right leg was... literally bent backwards, his dull blue slacks soaked in blood around the knee. He wanted to throw up, but holds himself back instead, inching closer to Habit's face.

"Oh my fucking god.... oh my god... This wasn't supposed to happen, I swear, that... that flower kid, I trusted them, I thought they'd... they wouldn't..." Kamal let the words tumble out, reaching his fingers out to touch his old friend's hand. Kamal freezes, wide eyed, when the hand twitches, and Habit's strained, but unmistakable voice rises weakly, gasping and thick with blood.

"My...eyes...! Kamal? Is this you? I... can't not see you!", he sputters, shaking, blood trickling down his broken teeth, orange eyes darting around frantically, fearfully.

Kamal shifts his weight to rise up as he realizes that Habit might actually have a fighting chance. "Oh my god, Habit! Y-you're still alive! Hang on, I need to call 911-"

He's cut off at the feeling of a weak, but desperate tug at his ankle. Habit's breathing gets more rapid and strained, as his eyes are yet again searching, unseeing.

"No...p-please...!", he heaves with more force than he's had this entire time, last dregs of adrenaline giving him the strength to roll over, though it still looked pretty weak from the outside. Kamal freezes in place, eyes locked on Habit as he cried out.

"I...it would be a minute, I need to save your life!", Kamal presses, whipping his head over his shoulder.

"I'm... I'm am so scared! I....can't not see you...! Why can't I see?", Habit pleads, his already strained voice breaking as his grip on Kamal's ankle finally loosens up, fingertips still trying to touch his shoe. Anything.

As the sun continues to crawl across the sky, Kamal is stood, paralyzed. Why was this even a consideration, he needed to do the practical thing regardless of Habit's wants, that was always his job...!

Kamal catches the smallest movement in the corner of his eye, as Habit's breathing becomes shallower and his eyelids flutter. He moves his leg away...

And, on shaking legs, lowers himself gently beside the whimpering, bleeding mess, stretching a hand out to stroke Habit's frazzled locks. Habit gasps out a shallow breath, before understanding that Kamal had laid down right next to him.

Wordless, save for Kamal's quiet sobs and Habit's increasingly labored breathing, they lie on the dusty carnival ground, the occasional sound of the attractions beeping and little attractive fanfare playing.

As the minutes pass, eternal, a stray sunbeam casts from a slot in the roof above, and covers the two in summer warmth.

Habit lifts his unseeing eyes to where he thinks Kamal's face is, and slowly, deliberately, smiles.

"...was so... cold...warm now...", he whispers. Kamal blinks back tears, nodding, before remembering that Habit can't see him.

"Yeah...it's...it's nice. Being in the sun.", he whispers back, not sure what else to say.

Habit sighs, letting his head fall into Kamal's lap beside him as he savors the ray, eyes closing gently.The two sit there until it passes, Kamal finally looking down with a hand still in his hair.

"I-I gotta get up, hold on, okay?"

...

"Habit?"

...

"Boris?"

#s4m #smile for me #kamal bora #boris habit #dr habit #(ive never posted a fic here i hope this formatting is passable lmfao)#(Ao3 has been having Difficulties so onto tumbl it goes!)#angst #hurt/comfort #blood #body trauma #violence #death

11 notes · View notes

radia-chronicles · 1 year ago

Text

Radia at Night.

So I wanted to start with a snippet about Radia itself, because I don't think I can portray the love I feel for this story with my first post better than that and I really want anyone who reads this to feel the setting like I feel it when I think of this place.

Thanks for stopping by!

The street is empty and desolate after the bus pulls away behind you, leaving you alone on the empty main road of Radia. A sharp wind cuts through you as it sends the illegible street sign wailing on broken hinges. When you look up to the sky you see the half moon peeking through lacey clouds. It's going to be a cold night and you've got nowhere to go so you set off at a brisk pace down the damp old cobbled road. Walking helps warm your stiff legs as you rub your hands together, hoping to spark a fire between your palms before using your breath to warm the numbing tips of your fingers.

Although the night is dark the small buildings that line the main road have flickers of life you can see through wavy glass windows. After walking for a few minutes you're stopped by the sudden sound of raucous laughter pouring from the open door of a small building ahead that had the looks of an old tavern. It was tall and slightly crooked, like most of the buildings down the old road, but it was the mostly lively place you had seen so far. There's chipped paint that may have once held color adorning the windows and doors, but the wooden pillars that made the wide patio were as old and tired as the hand laid stones beneath your feet. The entire building and those surrounding it seemed to be the forgotten past of Radia. Beyond the tavern you could see the old road as it turns to asphalt as it leads through more of the lower city until disappearing among the tall buildings in the center of the modern metropolis ahead. It's curious that the bus dropped you so far from the station which should be closer to the center of Radia, but you have little time to think on it as the smell of warm pies and hot cider wafts out of the inviting glow emanating from the charming inn. Looking at it again you wonder why you thought it looked so run down, the paint is old but now that you've moved closer you can see the patterns of vines twisting around themselves to decorate the clear windows which showed a bright, clean, dining area and bar inside.

A man leaned in the doorway with a warm smile on his face, watching the livery inside. While you're approaching he turns towards you, as his face turns away from the light inside you see a pair of giant beet red horns curving atop his square head with the tips resting on the soft blonde hair curling at his temples. His smile once soft and easy turned wicked and sharp, locking his burning orange eyes to yours.

You blink in surprise, but when your vision clears again you see he's wearing a wide brimmed hat and not horns atop his head. His eyes were deep amber, not orange and terrible, but his smile wavered a little as he saw the confusion in your expression.

He cocks his head to the side before the smile finds its place again and waves his arm in a beckoning fashion at you, "Comin' in?" He hollered even though you were only a few feet away, "It's a cold one tonight," he added in a booming voice that echoed down the street.

You took a moment to look at the well lit city ahead which was still quite far. It would be too late to get a room at a hotel if you could even make it that far walking, but something about this side of the city gave you pause, there was an aching pit forming in your chest as you realized how empty the street really is.

The man in the doorway poked at the indecision he could see in your posture while pondering the road beyond, "We've got warm home spiced cider on special and I think Bas just finished up a meat pie with her famous flakey crust."

At that moment your stomach gave a loud grumble and the man laughed, a sound like deep bells that rang through you.

"Your stomach agrees with you, young one! You can walk into the city on the morrow, drink with us tonight." He beckoned, his voice sweet as honey on your ears. Washing away the doubt in a thick layer of sweet, he turned and joined the patrons inside for what sounded like an old drinking song. The laughter and sounds of light conversation was as alluring as water in a desert on this cold night.

Shaking the daunting image from before out of your mind, return his smile and head towards the bustling inn. You don’t think of how the man’s speech was out of date and awkward, you don’t even see the hooved feet he wasn’t able to disguise fully with his glamour as you walk past him into the bustling room.

The air in the tavern seemed to weigh down your lungs while you walked into a room of strikingly unusual people. Your eyes are drawn all across the room in what seems like frozen time when the entire room stops to face you. With shaking legs and the hulking man behind you, nudging you further into the room from the door you weave through the tables of the dining area. There was a woman sitting at a large wooden table nearby wearing an elegant nightgown of purest black, hugging her down to midcalf before spilling onto the ground in a puddle of lace. Through the sheer curtain you could see strappy heels so sharp you wondered how she could walk in them. She was watching you cross with a curious expression with eyes were blacker than coal as she swept her gaze up and down you while you passed by. A woman with her hair worn in an intricate head covering next to her leaned across the small gap between them to whisper in her ear. They curved together conspiratorially giggling until you had finally passed them. There were people dressed in head to toe coverings, while others wore unusually formal outfits from ancient eras across the world. In the back corner shrouded in darkness was a pair of piercing green eyes following your route to the bar.

As you pass by a table playing cards the entire group stops their game to sniff the air as you accidentally brush against the jacket of a burley woman with tattoos on her face. She growled low, making your heart thrum against your chest like a trapped bird. Someone at a nearby table smacks the head of one closest to him and whispers something harshly at the group in a language you couldn’t quite pick up. They picked up their cards again as you pick up the pace and finally get to the counter where the bartender seems to have been waiting for you at the center in front of an empty barstool. She shot a look at the large man sitting in the seat next to it and he sighed before gathering his drink to move over one more so you have an empty seat on each side.

“Sorry about the crowd here,” she said with a kind smile, giving the dining room a significant look, you hear the bustle finally pick back up behind you as they seemingly got the message, “We don’t get many out of towners around here.”

She waved the words away before you could even say them, sending her short hair bouncing around her head. It's such a deep brown it seems to glow red in the lamplight as she tosses her head back with a grin.

“That backpack looks big enough to carry me and it doesn’t look like the only thing that’s weighing those shoulders down, my friend.” as she spoke she was grabbing a glass and a cocktail shaker with one hand and various colored bottles with the other. “Now toss that thing down and take a seat, here,” she nodded at the seat in front of her while tipping the bottles upside down into the shaker with one hand.

She was right, she probably could fit into the pack you’ve been carrying as she was probably only just over five feet tall and you did put your entire life it before getting on that bus. The bartender kept on bustling along, filling trays for the server who swept past you in a flurry of white fluffy hair as she ran orders around the dining room. Your bag was getting heavier by the second so you finally ease the straps off your shoulders before settling on the worn wooden barstool.

The bartender popped back up in front of you the moment you sat down, her deep russet skin drank in the flickering candle-light that shone from the wrought iron chandelier above.

Wait, weren't they light-bulbs earlier?

You look back at the dark chandelier and see clear bright bulbs shining down among the maze of twisting bars. You begin to feel an ache forming behind your eyes as you think hard trying to remember what you saw.

“So,” the bartender said, breaking the train of thought. Her slender eyebrow arched when you looked back at her with a start.

“You alright there? You must be exhausted from your travels, we’ll get you set up with a room alright?” she motioned to the server and mumbled something to her out of ear shot and before you could even blink she’s back in front of you.

“Sorry about that, I was telling Cat to get a room prepped for you. The bus dropped you down here in the dead of night rather than go all the way to the city didn’t it?”

You nod, the ache seemingly gone from your head thankfully as you look at the bartender for the first time. Her hair is short, but curled slightly at the ends making them bounce with each step she took. Her eyes are a light hazel like autumn leaves that pull your gaze like a magnet, it’s hard not to lean forward too much as her attention leaves you breathless for the moment.

She spoke again and you could feel the air break in your lungs, releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

“Pah! Lazy drivers, I swear people get lost here all the time because of it." She wiped her hands with a rag, looking off into nowhere before she snapped back, "Well I won’t ask you what brings you to Radia. Gods know this place was built on a tomb and forgotten about. All sorts of dark things happen here..” she started to make another drink as she spoke, this one in a tall glass using some sort of green liquor and fizzy water. Your eyes followed her movements as she talked in a low tone. Her words forming a daunting knot in your stomach, “You may not know it, but this is a dangerous city. Do you know how many people have gone missing in this place?" Her smile grew wider and she gave the shaker a final SLAM on the counter, you watch paralyzed by a fear you know was given to you for a reason.

She continued finally, her voice low, while gently pouring the green fizzing cocktail into a tall clear glass, "But people just keep on coming don't they." You see a little regret in her eyes before it's gone and the playful light returns.

She plops a cherry in the lime green foam that gathered atop top liquid, nearly spilling the contents over before sliding the drink across the space between you. She shook her head at you as you darted for your wallet, hoping to end the interaction as quickly as possible.

"Now, now, none of that. We'll settle up later, enjoy the drink." Her wink sends a jolt down your spine and she's off again to help someone on the other end of the bar.

With nothing left to do and the feeling of eyes prickling on the back of your neck you take a tentative sip of the cocktail. Despite it smelling like oven cleaner, it surprisingly doesn't taste alcoholic at all. It's like fresh cut grass and floral mint before ending with a slightly sweet berry taste. After a few more healthy swallows you begin to feel pleasantly light headed, the room shifts and so do the people in it.

How much time has passed? It's hard to say as you sit in the stool at the now rowdy bar, has the drink been refilling itself? You attempt to pondered that thought as it slid from your mind as quickly as it came. Were you supposed to be leaving? No no no, there's still drink in your glass, you take another swallow and look around.

There were two men dancing by the music box, their movements slow and hypnotizing against the dissonant chords.

What kind of music is that? It sounds like wailing pipes and broken violin strings being grinded into dust to you, but after a few more sips you hear the chords from some pop song thats been on the radio a few times. You shrug the thought off and return to the brimming drink in your hand.

A few people brush by behind you, ghostly fingers trailing fire along the back of your neck as they slide through the crowded taproom. You snap back to look at who it was, but nobody's there.

As you're looking behind you the dark corner catches your eye again, but instead of smokey blackness you see a woman with a large mane of purple hair watching you with the same piercing emerald eyes. There was a smile playing at the edge of her lips as she lifts her glass up towards you with a small bow to her head. Confused, you raise your drink, with your hand only trembling slightly, back towards her with a nod. An overly wide grin nearly cracked her face in half before she tipped her glass over, dumping the contents across the table in front of her laughing like a deranged clown. Her eyes shifted from deep green to a violent ochre like a fire eating the forest.

You quickly swivel back to the bar, trying to ignore the roaring laughter growing behind you. Someone passing by joins the laughter while slapping you on the back with such force you're sent spilling into the counter, breaking the glass against the old grained wood as you desperately try to unlock your chest from the force of it. Your eyes were glued to the green fizzing liquid as it seeped into the bar, focusing on breathing in and out.

"Don't mind her," the bartender's voice seemed to help slow the frantic beating of your heart. The breaths came easier but your head was still swimming from the drink.

"She's a lot nicer than she looks," her hazel eyes flicked to the back corner, raising her voice enough to be heard, "Even though SHE'S BAT SHIT CRAZY." Almost yelling the last bit, her face drawn in mock surprise at being overheard. Or at least you assume the purple haired woman heard by the change in her laugh from high pitched, to a deep genuine chuckle before trailing off into, "La-de daw daw daaaaaaaaaaa." And finally silence from behind you.

When you finally look back up at the small red haired woman you can feel a weight to her gaze.

"Look, friend," She said in a lower voice to you, "You look tired, let's get you to bed huh? Cat's got your room ready."

As she spoke she was leaning over the counter further and further, her voice almost a whisper now, almost touching her tawny nose to yours.

"I hope you know what kind of place you're in now." Her breath was hot against your face, but smelled slightly of campfires and fresh water, "Tomorrow, you leave Radia. Never come back." Her eyes were alit with a fire making them burn with yellow intensity, "This place is the playground of Daemon's and God's. The humans here are hardened, but never safe. Leave this place on the morrow," She whispered, your vision was fading at the edges in a black fog.

"This city is a graveyard for humans like you, but you'd be lucky to stay dead here."

The last word trailed through your mind as you descend into a black sleep. You feel hands upon your head, a delicate touch on your forehead lowering you down into rest.

When you awake you're lying in the center of what was once the bustling dining room of the inn, but a layer of dust lay thick upon the furniture. Some pieces are knocked over with webs of time built on them and no footprints on the grimy floor, but your own. The only clean spot was your seat at the counter, you stare at the remains of the glass you broke on the counter. It was gray with age and not a fleck of moisture on it.

Your eyes trail up the shelves that were not empty of liquor until you see a sign you didn't notice last night. It was old, but cleaner than everything around it, with "Charon's Coin Inn" painted in bold black letters. A chill ran down your spine as you read the name of the ferryman to the Underworld. She told you to run, but something within you kindled at the thought of staying.

Tentatively you reach into your pocket to pull out a silver coin. With your eyes trained on the sign, and your hand only slightly trembling, you slap the coin on the counter with an open palm.

The clank of the coin reverberating in the empty room is the last thing you hear, save for the high pitched laughter of the woman in the corner before the floor falls from beneath you.

#radiachronicles #writing #fantasy

4 notes · View notes

canolaaoil · 2 years ago

Text

I remember childhood in yellow and blue

1. Who Can Sleep? Sally Davies // 2. @dakotajohnsongf // 3.Let Magic Surround You, Carmine Belluci // 4. @electraheart2012 // 5. Kitchen, Larry Bracegirdle // 6. Hum Hallelujah, Fall Out Boy // 7. INTERIOR AT NIGHT, Ryan Kapp // 8. Letter for home, Felix Lee // 9. Monet’s House in Giverny // 10. @girlfromenglishclass // 11. @kernjosh // 12. On Turning Ten, Billy Collins

Description Follows

Post Description:

1. [ ID: A photograph of a city at night. There is a skyline in the upper quarter in dark, navy blue, while the lower 3/4 of the image portrays an apartment building. Several windows in the building are lit with golden light in a random assortment around the building. In a few of the windows, sillouettes of people can be seen in black. End ID]

2. [ ID: an exerpt of a tumblr post, reading; let me tell you — sometimes i think this might be all a bad dream. every now and then, when the world is quiet enough, when the yellow light hits the ceiling just right, i feel like a child again. sometimes i wish i could find the spot where time is the weakest, touch it, tear it apart, and wake up on the sofa, behind my parents’ backs where i’ve crawled after some nightmare. from the tv, a laugh track. i’m pretending to sleep. its summer. see, the balcony door is ajar. see, there’s a mosquito trying to get in. see, my heart isn’t aching. see? End ID]

3. [ID: a painting in a stylized fashion of a cat sitting on a table from inside a house looking out a window at snowfall. there are papers on the table, a wooden chair, red and purple curtains around the window, a yellow patterned table cloth, and cups of coffee sitting nearby the cat. The cat is black. The walls of the room are golden yellow. End ID]

4. [ID: a tumblr post by user electraheart2012, reading; being alive is like: you want to go home. you don’t know where home is. you want to go home. you don’t know where home is. you want to go home. you don’t know where home is. you want to go home. you haven’t known for a long time. you want to go home but you don’t know where you’d go. you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home. End ID]

5. [ID: A painting in a semi-realistic, oil style, of a corner of a home. The colors are mostly warm yellows, oranges, and browns. From left to right there is a calendar, a doorway, a console table, and a couch. There are mirrors, and shelves with books lining the walls. On the table there is a lamp, which casts most of the light in the painting. The walls have wood paneling on the lower half and paint on the upper half, likely white or off white, but appearing soft yellow due to the lighting. End ID]

6. [ID: a screenshot of a lyric page, reading; And one day we’ll get nostalgic for disaster. End ID]

7. [ID: an oil painting, portraying a rectangular set of windows, looking inside a home at night. curtains cover the left and right panels of the windows, and the center one portrays a wall in the distance with several pictures on a fireplace mantle. The painting is in mostly golden yellow and orange, with the window frame in dark navy blue. End ID]

8. [ID: a handwritten note on a blue, lined sticky note, written in blue pen. The handwriting is cursive. The note reads; Dear Mum, / Once you’ve cleaned this room and house, I won’t forget the sweet, strange and unforgetful memories. This box will contain most of my belongings and I hope for you to take care of it. End ID]

9.[ID: A photograph of a room in a house through a doorway. The visable room is a dining room, with a table with six visable white wicker chairs surrounding it, a white fireplace/mantle with blue vases and pottery decorating the top, and several paintings lining the wall. The walls are painted bright yellow, and the triming of the doorways are painted light blue and white. The lighting in the dining room makes the entire room look golden, while the room the photographer is in is in regular daylight. End ID]

10. [ID: a tumblr post by user girlfromenglishclass, reading; Childhood made everything feel like it lingered. The time it took for hot chocolate to cool down was eternal. Christmas day took weeks. The two-hour drive to my grandparents’ house took us to a new world. It’s all too fast now. End ID]

11. [ID: a photograph of two people on a bed. Both lay on their backs. One is wrapped in a puffy duvet cover, laughing with their whole face, looking in the direction of the photographer. The other looks up at the photographer, with their shirt pulled up, with most of their chest exposed, just wearing a pair of checkered boxers. The colors of the environment are light blue; the duvet and the sheets of the bed. The walls are white-ish blue. The people are warm colors; pink and brown. End ID]

12. [ID: an poem exerpt, reading; But now I am mostly at the window / watching the late afternoon light. Back then it never fell so solemnly / against the side of my tree house, / and my bicycle never leaned against the garage / as it does today, / all the dark blue speed drained out of it. End ID]

paragraph break

[ID: two lines of writing, underlined in yellow, reading “one day i was seven years old, / after that all i ever was was lonely.” end ID]

end post description.

#web weaving #parallels #larry bracegirdle #fall out boy #hum hallelujah #what is up gay people in my phone #YOU WANNA KNOW SOMETHING? the art on this one was inspired by the infinity on high cover art :3 #but most of the feelings? for this post like my drive to complete it was last november #the bay area is fucked up that time of year honestly like its got such sad vibes. in my hometown fall and winter are orange and white and #brown. not blue. why is fall blue in the bay area? it inspires melancholia in the soul.#okay personal tags #comparatives #i really love that carmine bellucci one i wanna live inside it #olivia can and should wear red eyeshadow

625 notes · View notes

dreamingdixon · 3 years ago

Text

Feng Shui

Sequel to Warmth, or as a separate oneshot.

TW: Mentions of marking/hickeys given with consent. Implied smut, mostly fluff.

“You want this where?”

When you suggested ‘sprucing his place up a bit’, he didn’t realize he’d be at the brink of popping his knee out of its socket trying to move the damn bed.

“I was thinking over here, what do you think?”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he follows your pointer finger in the direction of the other side of the room. He wants his mouth to ask ‘why, what’s wrong with where it was?’ but knows what’s wrong with it - the energy is off, as you’ve told him, so he closes it at the sight of you - you’re looking at him like you’ve just asked the most important question of his life and he can’t not indulge you. He’d carry the table onto the roof if you blinked at him and said please.

“Whatever you want.”

Humor creeps into his voice before he finishes, the smile building against his cheeks.

“No, no. I want to know what you think, too. I’m just thinking we’ll have more natural light if we’re over there, and you can have more room there for your bike parts, too.”

Daryl can’t remember the last time he cared about natural light and that’s not going to change today - but if you think it’s a good idea, then it’s a hill he’ll happily die on.

Today was just so nice.

You’d both woken up in your usual positions, you curled up against his side with your nose pressing against the skin of his throat, his arm curved around you protectively. Daryl woke up before you, too fond of the little huffs of air you were pressing against him to move - deciding instead to just wait. It was his turn to admire the orange streaming in from the sunrise painting the wall opposite.

When you finally stir, he whispers in your ear that you look so damn pretty, and you respond with your own string of compliments - you’re gorgeous, you know that? Waking up next to you is the best thing to ever happen to me, even before the world fell. The appreciation turns physical - words of affection molding into caresses and fluttering kisses that explore lower and lower, hands pawing at exposed skin, and the few bits of clothing you sleep in being hastily discarded.

Finding your shirt afterward is so difficult, you make a mental note to watch which direction Daryl throws your clothing in from now on. He’s watching you - like a smirking teenager - as you pace around the room searching for your damn shirt. You could grab a new one, but it’s the principle of the thing.

“Oh my God, Daryl. I’m going to kill you. Where the fuck did you throw it?”

He huffs out a laugh as you dart around, the warm orange glow replaced with pure bright light streaming in, illuminating the entire room.

“Beats me, have ya checked under the table?”

Raising his eyebrows, he literally can’t believe you actually fell for it as he watches you bend over in nothing but the underwear you managed to find, and he hopes he never forgets the sight you’ve just graced him with. He makes a note to hide the underwear next time, too.

“It’s not here, what the- You’re a tracker, why aren’t you helping me?”

Daryl swallows down the saliva that accumulated from the way your ass was in the air, and he thinks to himself it’s because the violet splotches he’d gifted you were everywhere and he’s the one who gave them to you - you’re the one who asked him to and he can’t take his eyes away - otherwise he’d happily help. Just not this time.

Flicking yourself upwards, you turn around and face the archer again. He looks entirely too smug for an innocent man. Pacing back towards him slowly, he raises his hands in defeat, but after some empty threats and rolling around, you find the shirt tangled in the sheets at the bottom of the bed and he swears if looks could kill, he’d be six feet underground.

He pulls you against him, a firm grip around you with his thick arms that has you squirming and giggling, but you still against when he mumbles a compliment into your ear - something about the view you just gave him and how you don’t have nearly enough marks, how he’ll give you more if you let him.

He’s getting bold, and it has you flushed completely red when he finally lets your peel yourself away from him.

Clearing your throat and pulling the shirt over your head, Daryl’s still got traces of a smile on his features as he collects his boxers, shirt, and trousers before you both go about your day. Daryl heads out with Aaron, they’ve found signs of movement nearby and they believe there might be a small group they might be able to bring in if they can follow their path quickly enough, while you head out with Rosita for a perimeter check around the walls.

The day passes quickly, and you’re throwing your damp hair into a braid when he makes his way down the stairs.

“Hey, good day?”

He asks, throwing his gear onto the clearest part of the desk. Making his way over, he plants a kiss on the crown of your head while you finish off the intricate braid as he shrugs off the leather vest, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt to cool him down.

“Yeah, we found a breach on the south portion of the wall - nothing dangerous, I think it’s just worn from the weather, but we’re going to head out soon to gather the resources to fix it. Did you get any closer to tracking the group?”

“Nah, they went too far north for us to track ‘em on foot, we’re gonna try again tomorrow with the car.”

You hum your understanding, telling him maybe he should date Aaron since he’s spending so much time with him, eliciting an eye roll as a response. He grabbed a few bits from the pantry on his way back inside the walls, and he sets them on the counter for later - but first, a shower.

Evenings feel as long as the days with the lazy movements of the sun, but it leaves you feeling like you have more time together so you’d never complain. While he showers, you find yourself wandering around the room, a finger trailing behind lazily on surfaces as you step, picking up a few bits as you tidy somewhat. There are memories attached to so many things in here, and you find yourself silently praying you never lose the bottom floor of this house - you’d defend it with your life.

Inconspicuous but so sentimental is how you’d describe the shared basement. There are memories, moments that link to almost everything, but nobody would have a clue unless you or Daryl told them - and neither of you ever would. You’d never tell anybody that the crimson blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed is there from your first run with Daryl, where you were both trapped inside a Walmart during a storm. It was surprisingly not entirely empty, a few un-scavenged bits still dotted around the store - not many items were useful, but you’d take anything at this point - and the deep red blanket was the base of a makeshift bed for you both that night. It was that evening you told him you liked him because you couldn’t wait for another second because the thunder was so loud and you were sure you were going to be taken out by a rogue bolt of lightning that night - Daryl huffed at your confession, watching the worry in your eyes ease as he told you to come closer, holding you until the storm passed. His confession followed a few days later atop the same blanket.

Tucked away in a drawer were a few small boxes holding delicate jewelry he’d brought back for you from various runs. ‘I know ya don’t really have a chance to wear it, but it’s your favorite colour, so..’ along with other trinkets - a mug with a motorcycle on it that you gifted him one day that left him with the most bewildered look ever on his face, and you explained ‘It could be your birthday for all we know. I found this and thought of you. Happy birthday.’ and a funky shaped twig he said ‘reminded me of ya.’ that you still don’t understand.

You’re too invested in your thoughts to notice the bathroom door open, too lost in memories to hear the footsteps behind you until Daryl’s behind you, pressing a damp kiss to the soft skin behind your ear. You watch as he buttons a fresh shirt over damp skin.

“Can we re-decorate?”

It’s so out of the blue that it leaves him confused. Re-decorate? Like, an Ikea run re-decorate?

He listens with raised eyebrows when you talk about feng shui, about how you don’t really know what it is but you’re certain the bed should be in the other corner because the vibe is off in this corner, and you want it against the off-white on the other side of the room because that’s where the sun hits in the morning and you’re pretty sure that’ll do something super positive to the energy. You read it in a magazine once, something about furniture placements bringing harmony - waking up with your both painted in thick orange will absolutely bring you harmony, so it’s worth a try, right?

Daryl has absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, he’s never heard the term feng shui or the word ‘harmony’ come out of your mouth before, but he knows even less about the topic so he’s not about to correct you, mostly because he’s so obsessed with how you can be so passionate about something that he can guarantee has only just popped into your mind. His eyes follow you around as you flail your arms in every direction, pointing from the desk to the couch talking about how ‘this is how it was before the world fell, we need to change it into something we want, you know?’ He listens in awe - speechless, mostly - until you finish strong with the promise of bringing a ‘really nice rug from one of the empty houses across the road, it’ll match the fuck ugly purple armchair, what do you think?’ and he wants to be honest and tell you that he isn’t thinking but even if you turn the place into a funhouse - what does it matter? You can paint a mural of puppies on the wall and hang tinsel for all he cares - if it’s what you wanted, it’s okay.

He remembers being younger and how his father would come into his and Merle’s shared bedroom sometimes, at the time not having a clue why a bitter smell would follow the man when he walked through the door, but it made Daryl’s stomach lurch, so one night he moved his bed in front of the door so he didn’t have to smell him just for one night - and he paid for it that morning, when the man had to climb through the bedroom window instead. Listening to how you want to move the bed for good energy gives him the ability to store an old memory away, locked inside a box in his mind to replace it with this one. He has a private space now, just for the two of you.

Your idea of ‘helping’ is you sitting on the couch, throwing your arms in the air like a cheerleader for encouragement while Daryl sweats and his arms shake as he pushes the monstrosity with you on it. He wants to laugh with you but his lungs have shrivelled up and died, although he loves hearing your elated voice cheer him on, he’s happier when you skip to the other side of the couch and pull while he pushes. You tell him that ‘teamwork makes the dream work’ and he can’t agree quickly enough.

It’s a joint effort then to move the table to the side before you pull the mattress off the bed ungracefully shoving it by the door to lighten the burden as you both drag the wooden frame to the desired location. Where the ‘vibes are better’ or something. With the frame in place, you quickly run across the lot to grab the rug you told him about - and he agrees, it does match the fuck ugly purple armchair perfectly. Finally, the mattress and bedding are arranged and the work is done.

“Is there even a point making the bed? I thought you wanted to add to your collection.”

You tell him with a confident reminder of his earlier threat. Raising his eyebrows, it only takes a few steps from his lean legs to back you against the thick mattress, the backs of your knees hitting the intended target and buckling. He towers over you, and the way you’re looking up at him so innocently through your lashes does something to him - of course, he’s going to fulfil his word.

“Oh, I’m gonna, Princess. You want me to?”

Your head nods of its own accord, you ache for the way he speaks to you with so much conviction. The confidence in his voice is recently found, but you’d never think from how he uses his words so perfectly - and they’re all for you.

His fingers grab yours, pulling you up onto your feet gently as his lips find yours again. Confusion is written all over his face when you pull away suddenly with a “wait, come over here first” as you drag him to the corner of the room. He’s disoriented from the sudden switch of your actions until you ask him “well, do you think it looks good? I think it’s better, but what do you think?” and he whispers “looks perfect” without even glancing at the rearranged space. His eyes are glued to you and how you’re so proud of the simple room transformation, but it’s a space that belongs to both of you and he hopes now you’ll love it even more now it’s had your own personal touch.

Smiling up at him, you give his hand a squeeze - you’re so content with everything right now and it shows in the lines that form by your eyes.

He lets himself be pulled to the foreign corner with the bed, and he brings his earlier promise to life, mouth dragging over curves and dips of sensitive skin until the familiar orange glow paint you both a magical shade of molten gold, the crimson blanket barely covering your tangled limbs, exposing the galaxy he spent the night embellishing your body with.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fic #twd #twd fanfic #twd imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #twd oneshot #daryl dixon oneshot #the walking dead fanfic #implied smut

446 notes · View notes