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loomisadvocate · 5 months

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the inevitable 𖤐 part five

woodsboro would soon be a distant memory - but some things would make it hard to forget.

pairing: billy loomis x fem!reader

word count: 7.4k (holy shit i am so sorry)

tags/warnings: strangers to enemies, enemies to lovers, smut (eventually), angst, slow burn (heavy on this), cursing, alcohol and marijuana, make out scene who cheered!, probably others i'm forgetting.

a/n: clearly i got a little carried away with this part... it's the longest one to date. i hope that's not a bad thing. not 100% edited bc i promised i would post today. enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

“I’m sorry, he actually said enchanting?”

Tatum stifles her laughter to avoid any of her soda passing through her nose. That, and to avoid any more stares from the old woman who’d been glaring at Tatum over her less-than-modest plaid skirt. You nod, scrunching your nose up at the memory.

Your outing with Tatum has, so far, been spent filling her in on your entire Billy situation. It was prompted by her asking why, and you quote, “rat-boy,” was so hellbent on the group knowing in the first place, seeing as you’d only formally known each other for a few weeks. In the spirit of having no more secrets, you gladly answered her question.

You started from the very beginning: how a seemingly innocent conversation about red wine versus white turned into a quick trip to the garage that ended in telling him your plans to move. If Tatum thought the garage incident was hilarious, she was sure to piss herself when you told her about him coming to your window.

“Wait for it; it gets much worse.” You laugh along with her and take another bite of the pretzel you were sharing, wiping cinnamon sugar dust off on a useless paper napkin. “So then a week later, I’m writing my paper and hear something outside. I’m thinking it’s a small animal or something, but no. Guess what?” You pause for dramatic effect, Tatum raising an eyebrow and waiting expectantly. A few seconds go by before her hand smacks on the table and she gasps.

“Shut up!” The old woman next to you grunts and picks up her belongings, clearly fed up with your friend’s dramatic reactions. Tatum doesn’t care, and neither do you. If people looked at you and saw two high school seniors behaving like they were spilling middle school gossip, you couldn’t care less. You’d been waiting for more moments like these with her, and you’d be damned if you let a stranger spoil it with just a dirty look.

Tatum lowers her voice and leans in closer to you. “Shut up. He came to your house. Through your window?”She confirms with you, and you nod with your nose scrunched up.

“And I actually let him in, which is the even crazier part. But I talked to him—like, actually talked to him, Tatum. And he wasn’t that unbearable. Then, for whatever reason, he just flipped a switch.” You run a hand through your hair and push the pretzel towards her. Thinking about it all was taking away your sweet tooth.

What confused you the most about Billy Loomis is why, all of a sudden, he made fucking with your circle a personal mission. You racked your brain, thinking perhaps you had offended him by accident and didn’t realize it. You’d been doing that over and over again, coming up empty each time. Tatum knew him much better than you did and had a different angle, seeing as her boyfriend was the boy’s best friend.

“I think Billy is just a shithead and likes to get under people’s skin. He’s really good at it,” she offers. You already had the opportunity to learn that the hard way. “So what happened after you guys talked? Did you throw him out on his ass?” She asks with a giggle, getting a kick out of the mental image of you grabbing him by his hair and tossing him out of the window. A bit morbid, but a girl could dream.

You hesitate to answer. It’s not that you wanted to lie again; god no, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But something about telling another soul about the tension and the bubbling desire you’d been feeling in your gut since meeting him? It felt eerily similar to the reason you took so long to tell Tatum about leaving; it would make it real. You were perfectly content living in denial for as long as it took, even if that was up until the moment the moving van drove away.

You don’t answer, and Tatum kicks your leg lightly under the table. “Hello?’ She draws it out, waving her hand in the air. “What, did you guys make out or something?”

“No!” You shout immediately—defensively and hopefully convincingly. A few more people turn to look due to your quick outburst. “He got all... angry? Called me ungrateful and said I needed to wrap up my pity party. So I called him an asshole, and then..." You trail off at the memory. He taunts you, his lips now ghosting over your temple and his slim fingers resting on your hip. Through the thin, unreliable material of your t-shirt, you could feel him tracing circles.

“And then what?! You’re killing me here.” Tatum is growing more impatient by the second, like she’s heard the juiciest rumor about her favorite celebrity on TV, and suddenly the signal goes out. You look at her with uncertainty. Truthfully, you weren’t even entirely sure what had happened yourself. “I swear to god if you don’t spill.”

“And then it got weird,” you continue. Tatum doesn’t speak for you to know she’s asking how it got weird. “He got really close to me, like he was going to kiss me. And then he just didn’t? He said I should finish my paper and said my secret wouldn’t last much longer. Then the party happened, and he tried to give me a ride to school this morning. Well, I accepted the ride only ‘cause I would’ve been late and—“

“Whoa, we aren’t going to just skip that part. You guys almost kissed?!” Your best friend was crazed by all of this. Finding out you were moving, that Billy had it out for you, and that he had made a half-move on you all in one day was a bit much, even for her. She had absolutely zero interest in your ride to school this morning. Besides, she would be reinstating herself as your chaffeur starting tomorrow anyway.

"It was just weird and tense; nothing crazy happened. But it was definitely something. I just don’t know what his angle is.” You shrugged the entire thought away, entertaining it felt distasteful.

Admittedly, you hadn’t reached the point of being repulsed by him. The Billy you’d met a month ago was lingering in every crevice of your brain. Even the Billy that appeared in your bedroom seemed more kind, more palatable in some sense. Billy had proven thus far to be, if nothing else, a complete wildcard. You weren’t sure which Billy you would get on any given day. One day he is mocking you in your bedroom; the next he’s embarrassing you; and after that, he’s offering to bring you to school.

It was all too confusing, and your mind being seemingly detached from your body was not helping. The manner in which he could keep you frozen in place with a single look, your eyes the only part of your body able to move. Tracing over his stature, his lips, and his hands. It was positively disturbing. Now it had happened not once but twice, and everyone knows what they say about the third time.

"It sounds like he wants to see if he can get the library girl to open up more than her books." Tatum giggles and finishes off the sugary snack, crumpling up the paper to toss into the trash later. You don't respond; you're still fantasizing about the night in your room. Even when he wasn't in proximity he was able to throw your focus. What you fail to notice is Tatum's dawn of realization—the revelation that occurs while you're daydreaming.

"Oh my fucking god, you want to screw him!" She says it accusingly, pointing a finger at you. This is definitely enough to catch your attention. Your mouth is agape, but nothing comes out in your defense. After stuttering a few times, you manage to say something; however, it doesn't remedy much.

"Tatum, I don't want to screw him! He's horrible. Abhorrent, even." You throw in a big word in an attempt to throw her off your scent. Tatum knows you. She's known every guy you've thought to be remotely cute based on how you look at them. You never made a move on anyone the entire time you'd been in town. Partly because you preferred to avoid any serious attachments and strife when you eventually moved, but also because boys just weren't something you prioritized.

"You're basically drooling just thinking about it. God, no wonder there's so much tension." Tatum is enjoying every second of this. Maybe a small part of her is doing it on purpose, just as a little payback for what happened. Your willingness to talk to her about it, despite how humiliating it was for you, didn't go unnoticed. What killed you was how on the nose she was. It felt good to have your best friend in the loop on what would likely be your first and last real boy problem until the end of the school year.

"Ugh, you're right." You confess, unable to even laugh. Instead, you grab the hair at the top of your head and rest your face on your palms. "What do I do, Tatum?" You ask for guidance; your voice muffled. First you hear the slurping of the rest of her soda; she'd run through hers in record time.

"Just mess around; you're leaving soon anyway. He’s clearly into you, in his own bizarre, freakish way. What's the worst that could happen?" Tatum answers nonchalantly, and it earns an incredulous look from you. Tatum had personally ensured Billy was nowhere within five feet of you up until last month, and now she was encouraging you to sleep with the enemy?

"You're insane. I'm not going to mess around with him. He's an asshole; he has no respect, and he's made it clear he likes seeing me miserable.” You shake your head and lean back in your chair; one of the legs must be shorter than the rest because it's been rickety since you sat in it.

“True, but maybe he could like you? The only person who knows what Billy is thinking is Billy. Stu probably doesn't even know what happens in his bird brain." She offers an explanation, and you can't exactly disagree. You never knew what his motive was, and clearly, he kept his cards close to his chest.

"I know he's a dick; trust me," she continues. "And I'm definitely not a fan of him after what he pulled. But it's almost summer, and you've never even gone on a date with someone. Obviously, it's not a necessity, but you could probably benefit from a little something to take the edge off. You are a little bit uptight." Tatum's hands are clasped on the table as she tries to reason with you. Not only are you still in shock that she's suggesting this, but now you're surprised to find yourself agreeing.

Even so, there was still the matter of addressing his little stunt. Now that you and Tatum were fine, the next two things to take care of were, first, Randy, and secondly, the fucker that caused all of this in the first place.

"I can't believe you're telling me to screw around with Billy Loomis." You state, frankly, with a twinge of amusement donning your features.

"I can't believe you were already thinking about screwing around with Billy Loomis. You wear your thoughts on your face, by the way." Tatum smiles at you patronizingly, but you know it's with a light heart. You definitely had a lot to think about, but most of it needed to wait until after you tracked down Randy.

The squirrely one of the group was hardly ever taken seriously, but you knew that in this situation he needed to feel heard. He truly did see you as a sister. Whenever Stu would shoot down his ideas, you were always one step behind him, coming to his defense. You always said yes when he asked to hang out after school, mainly because he would go into a dramatic monologue about how much you hated him if you said otherwise.

Even though Tatum was your best friend, it was an unspoken feeling among all of you that Randy had somehow gotten the shittiest end of the stick. Randy was chaotic and, at times, unpredictable, but in a lot of ways, he was the one who bridged everyone together. You were positive that if Randy wasn't part of the group and hadn't pulled you from the library so many times, you wouldn't have gotten as close to Tatum. In the same beat, Randy was a simply guy. You knew an apology and a promise of grabbing food (on you, of course) would likely be enough. You still wanted to make it up to him.

With a clap, you stand up, ready to get out of the food court that was quickly starting to fill up with more people. The mall on a Monday afternoon was, believe it or not, one of the more entertaining places to go around town.

"No more Billy-talk; let's go. I need to find Randy." Tatum agrees quickly, standing up and tossing all of your trash in the bin before looking around in her bag for her car keys. Tatum agreed to stop by the video store on the way back and wait for you to talk to Randy. She assured you that he wasn’t angry, and noted that it wasn’t really in his nature to get angry anyways. That brought you much more comfort.

"For the record, fooling around when you're mad at someone is so much more fun. Why do you think I start fights with Stu so often?" Tatum twirls her car keys around her pointer finger and catches them in her palm. "Let's roll, Arizona," she says in a deep voice, earning a light smack on the arm from you.

You push Billy to the back of your mind for now, where he sits at any given moment lately. Perhaps Tatum was right, but if you were going to fool around with Billy Loomis, you were going to need to get your nerves in check.

Your talk with Randy was equal parts amusing and proactive. As Tatum informed you, Randy was nowhere near angry. Hurt, yes. Shocked, absolutely. But Randy, like your best friend, also knew that you couldn’t be an awful person if you tried. All of your self-hatred over the situation now felt slightly hilarious. You’d caught Randy at the beginning of his shift, luckily for you. That meant he wasn’t annoyed by people making, in his opinion, subpar movie choices just yet.

You’d given him a very similar spiel to the one you gave Tatum, filled with an obscene amount of “I’m sorry’s” and a very long hug. You had to remind him you weren’t leaving that night to get him to pull away. Nonetheless, it appeared that a lot of your worst fears were no cause for concern. Nobody (that you knew) hated you or would be cursing your name for the foreseeable future.

Randy did make it a point to really hammer that Windsor College was still taking applications despite the priority period ending already. He and Tatum had applied as soon as they opened, wishing to get as far away from Woodsboro as possible. Why it ended up being Ohio of all places you had no idea. Still, you rattled the idea around in your head. You figured it couldn’t hurt, but that was something you had to speak to your parents about.

The last you’d heard, your father was planning on taking a book deal that required him to live in New York in order to be close to the publishing company. Out-of-state tuition was likely going to be way too expensive, even with grants and scholarships. If you were able to convince him to agree on Ohio, you wouldn’t have to completely start over in the friend department.

Tuesday morning arrives, and for the first time since last Friday, you wake up without a weight on your chest. Your usual morning routine ensues, and it’s music to your ears when you hear the familiar horn of Tatum’s car outside your window. The ride to school felt even better today; after all, you didn’t have an impudent troll following you until you got into the car. Stu is taking up his usual spot in the passenger seat, his seatbelt evidently not on. Midway to school, he turns around, practically on his knees in the seat, which earns a reprimand from Tatum.

“So how are things with you and Randy? All better now?” He asks enthusiastically, a twinkle in his eye telling you he was probably asking because he wanted some juicy drama to laugh at.

“Yep, we’re all good. All is right in the world again, or whatever.” You nod once and keep your answer brief, refusing to give in to his wish. Your relationship with Stu was interesting, to say the least. You didn’t quite know him well, but his personality made it easy for you to take his banter in stride instead of taking it offensively.

“And what about things with Billy?” He asked immediately after, and Tatum slapped his shoulder quite harshly. You can see in the rear view that she is glaring at him. You scoff and direct your attention to her.

“You told him? Him of all people?! Tatum!” You lean forward and push Stu away by putting your hand over his face, staring at your best friend with a look of betrayal.

“He was gonna hear about it eventually; besides, he technically brought it up first!” She defends herself, pointing the finger at her boyfriend. You look between the two of them beyond confusion; what reason could Stu possibly have to bring up you and Billy? You raise both of your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to speak.

“You guys were like, eye-fucking each other on Friday. I didn’t know if I should feel awkward or kind of turned on,” he starts cackling as you start hitting him repeatedly.

“Don’t. Even. Go there!” You pause between each word, giving him a final slap on the top of his head. Stu was probably the least observant of everyone. If he and Billy were Dumb and Dumber, he was definitely the latter (which wasn’t saying much, really).

"Hey, fucking chill! I'm all for you getting some. A little weird it's from him, but maybe it'll fix that uptight attitude you've got going on," his words echo the ones his girlfriend had uttered to you less than twenty-four hours prior.

"Why do you guys think I'm uptight?!" You immediately shift into an even stronger defense mode, pleading frantically to the couple in the front seat for some kind of answer. You were no idiot; you had enough self-awareness to know that perhaps you could take your unyielding need for structure and order down a couple of notches.

Stu catches that you don't comment on 'getting some' from his best friend, and sticks his tongue out at you. "Arizona's fucking Billy!" He yells it as Tatum parks in her usual space, loud enough that if the windows were down people would have definitely heard it.

"Leave her alone! They haven't screwed yet." Tatum speaks up finally; although not to as much of your benefit as you would've appreciated. She puts the car in park and you jump at the opportunity to get out before you strangle Stu for his teasing. You scowl at the 6'4 child next to you and he, as usual, ignores your silent protest.

"Don't worry, Stu has to be on your side because I'm on your side. That means no Billy tomorrow night, right babe?" She looks up at him to confirm, but you can tell she's shooting daggers at him; compelling him to provide the answer she was looking at again.

"What's going on tomorrow night?" You ask. Hopefully it was nothing involving as much alcohol as the last time you spent time with them.

"Movie night, Randy insists there's a movie we need to watch that can't wait until the weekend. Billy will not be there." Tatum's chin turns up and she smacks Stu's chest. He feigns discomfort but she quickly provides him with a swift kiss.

"No Billy," you repeat. Relief washes over you. The unavoidable confrontation with him that had been plaguing you could be put off for one more day. The three of you split up to go to your respective classes, and you can only hope that Stu makes good on his word and keeps Billy as far away from you as possible.

———

Stu, surprisingly, keeps his promise. In fact, Billy was nowhere to be seen all day at school yesterday. Today he'd passed by you in the hallway, but he was too invested in whatever conversation he was having to notice you, or he chose to ignore you. Either way, you were content. Stu welcomes you inside, clearly prepared to drink the night away in his signature red 'party robe.' You didn't plan on drinking copiously; after all, it was still a weekday. However, the memories of the last time you were in Stu's living room began creeping up on you as soon as you walked inside.

Nobody brought up last Friday, which you were grateful for. But if you were going to relax enough to enjoy your night, at least one drink was necessary. To avoid falling into the cycle of running through beers all night, you instead asked Stu for a shot of tequila from his parents' liquor cabinet. It was hot and stung your throat as you forced it down, but the warmth that filled your chest afterwards was well worth it. That, and the soda you'd downed immediately after, helped with the foul taste. Everyone else indulged in a shot of well, most of them chasing it with their first beer of the night.

You were comfortable in the same place you were the first time you'd come to Stu's house. It seemed like so long ago. The season had already changed to summer since you'd made small talk about wine with the boy, who would soon become something close to your only adversary. Tatum and Stu were already settled in their places while Randy fiddled with the VHS player, a sight you'd become used to.

The tape's sleeve tossed haphazardly on the small table read Hellraiser IV: Bloodline, and you kept your complaints to yourself. You didn't plan on spoiling Randy's enthusiasm for the remainder of your time in town. You just really did not like horror movies, good or bad. Randy performs his regular pre-movie sermon, this time complete with a full run-down of how the original director had bowed out due to "artistic differences" and that a lot of the characters' fates had been rewritten. You couldn't help but inaudibly laugh at the irony. Oh, how you wish for your fate to be rewritten.

You actually try to focus on the movie, despite the faint buzz you can feel between your ears from the tequila. A group of guards are attempting to break down the door in order to take Dr. Paul Merchant when loud knocks at the front door scare all of you.

"Jesus, fuck!" Stu yells and groans loudly, hopping up over the back of the couch. Your attention briefly wanders to the entrance, but the front door is out of sight from where you're sitting. You don't hear much and assume Stu is coming back any second.

A few minutes go by without Stu's return, but Randy and Tatum are too captivated by the movie to notice. You get up quietly to avoid any other unexpected scares, going through the open archway until you can see the front door. Stu's towering height is hiding whatever he was looking at.

"You can't be serious, Stu," you hear a voice whisper. Whoever he was looking at. Stu senses you behind him and quickly turns to look over his shoulder, revealing none other than Billy fucking Loomis. Of course, he would be here right now.

Upon seeing you, Billy attempts to step inside through the small gap. "Just - there you are. Arizona, can I please talk to you?"

Stu puts his leg out to block his path, his hands clasped together, while his eyes flash between the two of you. It would be a lie to say Stu wasn't finding this a thousand times more entertaining than the movie.

"What could you possibly have to say to me that I would care about?" You respond boldly, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him, like you were suggesting a challenge. You should drink tequila more often. Billy's lips stay pressed together, and you can tell by the slight twitch of the corner that your reply was both unexpected and unappreciated.

Stu knows his friend far too well and quickly interjects. "How about you guys go talk in my room?" He suggests it, more-so an attempt to beg Billy not to make a scene. Stu is smiling, but it’s strained. Billy was not used to hearing any form of 'no,' and the last thing Stu needed was Tatum yelling at him for Billy showing up unannounced. You glance over at the living room, both of them completely unaware of what was happening in the foyer.

“I’d rather rot than listen to anything that comes out of your mouth.”

With that, you turn on your heels and walk straight back to the kitchen. Luckily, your arms were crossed to hide your shaking hands from his view. They are just still enough to pour yourself another shot of tequila, and you drink it without a chaser this time. You shake your head first, then your shoulders, and end with your arms in an attempt to get your body to relax. You desperately need to calm down and carry on with the rest of the evening as you intended—Billy free.

You return to your spot just as Stu reenters the living room, and trailing not too far behind him is Billy. So much for him not being here tonight. Tatum finally looks over when Stu sits down next to her, and her jaw drops while she follows Billy with her eyes.

“Really?! I told you not to invite him!” She whispers harshly, making no effort to keep it a secret that he wasn’t exactly wanted. Billy doesn’t bat an eye; he just sits on the floor furthest away from you, right by the arm of the sofa Tatum and Stu were occupying.

“He just showed up. What was I supposed to do?” Stu whispers back, throwing his hands up defensively. “Just watch the movie; who cares?” He mutters, avoiding looking in your direction. You and Tatum both roll your eyes, settling more into your respective places as you attempt to focus on the movie again.

It’s not much longer before Duc de L’Isle is summoning the demon princess, Angelique, into a woman’s body. Even with the movie accelerating, you’re processing none of it. The small television doesn’t give off enough light for you to see everyone, but it does cast the perfect amount of illumination on Billy. The movie progresses without your attention, and even with Randy’s animated reactions, Tatum’s commentary, and Stu’s childish (and inappropriate) jokes, you have no reaction. You feel as though you’re watching yourself from the other side of the room, desperately trying to look uninterested enough to avoid any attention coming your way.

You and Billy are playing the same game. From his spot on his floor, you are just in his peripheral vision. He can make out that you're sitting with your knees to your chest, but he can't see your face clearly without making it obvious he was looking. He is actively fighting every urge to steal a quick glance at you, truly hoping to find you looking right back. Every so often, he adjusts, the hard floor starting to be a literal pain in his ass. Each time, he manages to look at you for what feels like half a second.

Thirty minutes later, your couple of shots of tequila are starting to wear off, making you painfully paranoid about a certain someone. Just as you'd done before, you get up quietly and pad over to the kitchen. The tequila bottle is sitting in the same place you'd left it, your empty shot glass by its side. You sigh softly, taking the top off and pouring another to the brim this time. You quickly scan the counter for something to chase it with, but all the sodas are empty. You take a few steps to the fridge and pull it open, bending over to look for something. You spot a lone can of root beer in the back and grab it.

When you turn back around, another lanky figure is waiting for you. You gasp instantly, and the root beer falls from your hand. Nobody in the living room stirs at the disruption; the movie is too loud.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you begin, your mouth immediately snapping shut as your brain catches up to your body.

"No, just me." Billy gives you a placid smile. You don't say anything in response, stepping around him. You make it a point to hit his shoulder.

"Fair, I deserve that." He nods in understanding, hands clasped behind his back. You deserve a hell of a lot more than a shoulder-check, you think to yourself.

The can opening fills the space Billy expects you to take up with a response. He watches you intently, chin turned down, while you chuck back the shot and follow it up with root beer. You do your best not to show it on your face.

"Arizona, I'm just trying to apologize," he begins, taking a step towards you. Immediately, you fall back and hold your hand up between the two of you.

"Like last time? I'm not interested in hearing it." You snip back at him. "Why can't you get the hint that I don't want to listen to your fake sympathy? And I sure as hell don't need to be reprimanded by someone like you." You keep your voice low enough to keep this conversation as private as possible. The last thing you want is another confrontation like last time.

He stays silent and stares at you, his face falling just enough for you to notice. It's clear he fully expected his ambush to work, but there was no way you would go through this again. Not if you could help it. His nostrils flare so fast you almost miss it, but what you do miss is how fast his hand is wrapped around your elbow. You begin to protest and try to yank it out of his grasp, but Billy is intent on getting you upstairs. You both struggle up the stairs, and you are nudged into a bedroom with gaudy blue and red plaid sheets. The door is almost slammed behind you as Billy stands in front of it.

"What the hell is your problem?!" He demands an answer, and you laugh incredulously.

"Are you serious? What part of I don't want to talk to you do you not understand?" You attempt to leave the room, but he intervenes by stepping over to the left. You huff and try the other side, but he mimics you.

“I rarely apologize, you should feel grateful. Are you that goddamn stubborn?" His height is an advantage in this situation, and he uses it to make you step backwards towards the bed.

"Do I need to remind you that this entire thing is your fault?You are always so out of line; you just can't help yourself, can you?" Days of pent-up anger at the boy in front of you bubbled up to the surface. Your fists are clenched by your side, something Billy finds quite endearing. You were right; he couldn't help himself. It was too easy to get you this way: defensive, riled up, with a spunk nobody else in the group had seen except for him. He knew it was in there somewhere; he just didn't expect to find your buttons so quickly.

"What did you say earlier?" He cocks his head to the side, and his forehead creases. A beat passes, and he snaps his fingers. "That's right, you'd rather rot than talk to me. Rot, Arizona. Bit harsh, isn't it?" He speaks evenly, his words laced with condescension.

"I meant it, and I still mean it," you confirm. "You had no right to do what you did."

"Oh, I know that. For the record, I am very sorry about how it all happened," he says, rocking back on his heels a couple times. You allow his words to go in one ear and out of the other.

"But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have told them. You and Tatum seem like two peas in a pod again, so was it that horrible?" His hands are held out, palms facing up as if to say, see? It all worked out.

It takes a moment for you to decide if you want to even entertain this.

"That's... Billy, that's not the point. It turned out okay, but it's the principle of the situation." You are too exhausted by the subject to continue holding your ground.

"Girls and their principles," he chuckles. You raise your eyebrows and shake your head once, about to really force your way out, but Billy tries to dial it back.

"It's a joke, Arizona. Relax. I really am sorry. I was a dick that night, and I would probably be one again. But everything is fine now." This boy needs an extensive course on the art of a meaningful apology.

You sigh, almost in defeat. Billy was so caught up in the specific situation that he was neglecting everything that occurred before it. You'd opened up to him; you'd trusted him with your feelings. You told him something you hadn't even told your best friend, and he used it against you.

"That night in my room?" You start, jogging his memory for him since he had clearly forgotten. "I thought you were actually hearing me. I thought I was gaining another friend before I left, and you didn't care. You embarrassed me in front of everyone, yeah. But you also just..." You trail off, and this is why you didn't drink tequila. You can feel your eyes heating up, and you have to catch your lip between your teeth to keep it from trembling.

"I what?" He asks. He's speaking softly now, inching closer to you.

You don't want to say it. You'd come to terms with the fact that Billy was not your friend, but it was unusual how simply unkind he could be. You had only been crying because of hurting Tatum, but you hadn't fully processed your feelings about what Billy had done. You were so intent on soaking up more good with your best friends that you ignored the other side of the coin. Now it was just the two of you a third time, and even after your bold display downstairs, you are still scared to tell him how you feel.

"You really hurt me, Billy." You finally breathe, and Billy is right in front of you. As quickly as the air comes in, it leaves again. You blink profusely, trying your best to keep any rebellious tears at bay. For the first time, Billy feels. a pang of guilt. He wasn't the most emotionally intelligent guy on the planet, but he thought he had enough awareness to remember that this was a layered betrayal for you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." It's the first offering of regret that you believe, albeit not completely. Each shot of tequila has relaxed you up to this point, but you feel that familiar air coming around you again, of your defenses being broken down with hardly any effort. You don't respond, and Billy takes it as an opportunity to move closer. Now you are almost nose to nose, Billy shrinking down to meet your height.

His eyes have that same look that you'd seen the night in your bedroom. His hair is falling in the exact same place. Deja-vu strikes you in the gut when you realize that once again, you haven't moved an inch. Billy's hand comes up to cup your cheek, head tilted slightly so he can get a good look at you.

"You are so confusing," you confess, mustering up enough nerve to make eye contact. The corner of his lip comes up in a half-smile; he knows he's confusing. It's not an accident.

"I know; it's what makes me interesting." He remarks, and your head shakes in disagreement. His hand is cupping your chin now. You're talking in order to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming heat beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

"You don't have to be an asshole to be interesting, Billy." Your head is spinning from the proximity of your bodies. You begin to think back to your first encounter in Stu's garage—how charming he appeared to be and how easily his compliments rolled off his tongue. Even in your bedroom, he seemed endearing before it went downhill. In a different circumstance, you actually might've liked him.

"Then what else should I be, hm? Any suggestions?" Before you can answer, his thumb swipes languidly over your bottom lip. It seems to draw a deep breath out of you, much to Billy's satisfaction. He has you exactly where he wants you, where he's so easily been able to get you.

"You could try being decent for once," you retort, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as you stay firm in your conviction, his touch is getting more distracting as the seconds pass.

Billy's smile widens. "Decent, huh? I can be decent," he replies as his thumb continues its slow descent along your jawline. You almost laugh. He can be decent despite proving otherwise at every turn.

"Everything is okay with your friends. And we're finally alone. Do you want to keep talking about that, or do you want to talk about us?" He challenges. You want to push him away to reclaim some control over the situation. But there's a part of you that's satisfied the longer you stay this close to him. After all, he was right; everything was better now. He was the only loose end that hadn't been tied up. Tatum's advice is echoing in your head; it couldn't possibly be that bad. Could it?

"I don't want to talk." Your voice is low but no longer hesitant. Your eyes trail from his lips up to his eyes, and without needing to say a single word, Billy understands.

His other hand cups just under your ear, and he pulls you the few centimeters of space to close the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours gently. The first thing you notice about his lips is the lingering taste of alcohol. You wonder for only a second if he did the same as you, downing a few shots in preparation for some kind of confrontation. Billy takes his time, his grip on you loose enough that you could pull away at any moment if you wanted to. After weeks of dancing around each other and playing tug of war, every logical part of you wanted to stop this. But the other part of you that never gave in to anything but always wanted to try—that part was much stronger right now.

Your hands come up to wrap around Billy's wrists, and slowly but surely you stop fighting all of your urges to stay away from him. Billy takes this as a signal that you want this just as much as he did, likely for very different reasons. You feel his hands trail down to your lower back, resting right on the dip before the top of your jeans. Your hands find their way to his shoulders instead, and Billy begins stepping back towards the bed.

You follow his every move, completely enthralled by the warmth pooling between your legs to take notice, or really to even care. Billy's tongue swipes along your lower lip just as he sits on the edge of the bed, using his hands to guide you onto his lap. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and greet it with your own, your fingers moving to clasp around the back of his neck.

The excitement was starting to kick in, and kissing Billy turned out to be the most incredible thing you'd done in a while. Your best friend's words come back again, and this time you have every intention of listening to them.

Your lips are still moving with his near-perfectly. It is a shock after telling yourself how incompatible you were and putting so much of your energy into making sure he knew just how much you couldn't stand him. A wave of urgency passes over you, and you're pressing yourself against him without a second thought. Billy groans when you brush against the steadily growing bulge in his pants, so you do it again.

Billy pulls away just enough so he can speak, his lips even pinker than usual. "Slow down, Arizona. We have plenty of time," he teases you, and this time you don't take it personally. Your heart is racing, and you don't know what's making you feel more drunk: Billy or the tequila.

"Sorry, sorry." You shake your head, attempting to get yourself to think clearly. Billy's hands are comfortable on your hips, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to rub small circles.

"It's okay. Just come here," he says softly, easing you forward, his lips touching your throat instead this time. He places a few kisses, and a shiver runs down your spine that makes your back arch. He catches your lips again, but it's even slower this time. He's torturing you. You whine, beginning to get a little greedy when you hear someone who is definitely not Billy.

"Well, well, well," Stu leans against the doorframe, shaking his head in amusement. You've never moved so fast before in your life, hopping off of Billy's lap and scrambling to try and look like you weren't just devouring him.

"I fucking knew it; I told you!" He pumps both fists into the air triumphantly. Tatum and Randy soon pop up right behind him, and you begin to swear under your breath, hiding your face in your hands. Billy is sitting next to you, leaning back on his hands as if nothing was happening.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Randy is beside himself, pointing between you two with a look of horror. Stu nearly collapses in a fit of laughter, and Tatum stands with her arms crossed, trying to hide her smile.

"Movie's over, freaks. Let's go home." She cocks her head to the side, signaling for you to get up so you can catch your ride back. Thank god for Tatum, whether it’s intentional or not she is helping you avoid further humiliation.

Billy remains quiet, and you almost look to him for some kind of help. What were either of you supposed to say?

You clear your throat and adjust your shirt, avoiding giving him a second glance, and do the short walk of shame out of the bedroom. Randy is speaking nonsensically—a string of questions and words that don't make any sense. What you don't see is Billy hiding a smile of his own, even coughing to try and remain as stoic as possible. You hustle down the stairs, flushed with embarrassment, and follow Tatum outside to her car.

Your seatbelts are on, and the radio is off. Now that you're out of that room, the reality of what just happened settles on you. Tatum is looking at you from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge if she should say anything or wait until tomorrow. You look at her, and a few more seconds of silence pass between both of you, and you burst into laughter.

The third time was most definitely a charm.

#billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis fanfiction #billy loomis smut #ghostface x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x fem!reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher x fem!reader #skeet ulrich #skeet ulrich x reader #skeet ulrich x you #scream movie

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

What A Time To Be Alive

I just need someone to hold me, even though you don't even know me

Summary: The prompt was: Modern AU where Lucien is a tiktoker who posts POVs and Elain always wants to duet them to be the love interest he’s talking to but she doesn’t bc how could he ever be interested in a girl like her… UNTIL SHE DOES

Note: Big thanks AND dedicated to @ablogofbipanic who thought she could give me unwritable prompts. I'll write anything.

Read on AO3

Elain Archeron recognized that deck. Recognized the parking lot below and, when the camera zoomed out for a moment, recognized the white coup sitting in a patch of hot California sun. That was her apartment complex broadcast to an audience of one point two million people.

And her upstairs neighbor filming another tiktok.

Jackinthefox. Everyone thought his name read Jack, but Elain knew his name was actually Lucien Vanserra given how often his mail was shoved into her slot. Mostly junk coupled with the occasional energy bill. Lucien, with his sun kissed, golden brown skin and auburn hair that fell past his shoulders. She’d caught him in the basement gym once, lifting weights in a shirt so loose she could see all the carved muscle just beneath.

She’d started working out at night to avoid him.

It seemed Elain couldn’t avoid him on tiktok, though. No matter how quickly she swiped through his videos on her feed, they always came back. Look at me, they seemed to demand. Look at how handsome I am.

Yeah, yeah. Lucien was absurdly good looking, a fact he must have been well aware of. To his credit, he didn’t react to the thirst comments people left for him like other tiktokkers. And he always kept his shirt on, which honestly was a crime. If the women following him learned what lurked beneath, they’d riot.

Lucien did dance, occasionally, though always to 90’s boybands—Elain liked those videos best, not that she’d ever admit it. What Lucien did, primarily, were POV’s to popular television shows. Usually the Office, though he did a fair amount of New Girl, too. And women practically lined up to duet him, hoping to be the Jim to his Pam.

While Lucien had exploded in popularity during quarantine, Elain had a more modest following of ten thousand people following her for her aesthetic baking videos. And while Elain had a good time baking bread in cute aprons in front of her window, what she secretly wanted was to duet Lucien back.

She didn’t have the guts. What was worse, she thought, was duetting him, being ignored, and having to give him his mail when it was inevitably put in her box again. He’d know she had a crush on him and probably laugh behind her back.

Or maybe not—but Elain didn’t dare risk it. Not when she had one of the last affordable and nice units left in California. Close to the beach, within walking distance of her favorite grocery store…and with the hot, upstairs neighbor.

It was hot that day, which made going to the store a miserable venture. Elain was making lemon bars and had run out of nearly everything. If there was a hell, surely it was hauling massive canvas bags of flour, sugar, and lemons in the California heat. By the time she reached her building, Elain was drenched in sweat. In the distance, she could hear the screaming laughter of children in the pool, and the smell of chlorine blew in on a rubber and asphalt scented breeze.

She just wanted to get inside the cold building, to park herself naked in front of a fan, and stay there until winter arrived.

Elain went to yank open the glass door and drag herself up the flight of stairs to her unit. She fumbled with the metal handle, hot beneath the sun and her sweaty fingers.

“I’ve got it,” called a familiar, masculine voice. Honeyed and deep, rich and warm like the day she was so desperate to flee, Lucien Vanserra must have had one of the nicest voices she’d ever heard. A moment later he’d wedged his towering frame in the door so she could slip past. Lucien’s russet colored eyes slid to the bags hanging from her shoulders.

“Want help?” he asked, reaching for one of the straps.

Elain tried to protest— “No, I’ve got it—”

But he’d already taken two bags in one hand like it was nothing to him. He reached for the other two and suddenly Elain was freed of her obligations. She knew he saw how she exhaled with relief, a smile quirking over his full lips. Lucien was in another loose tanktop and basketball shorts.

Like herself, Lucien was slick with sweat, which made her feel a little better. They were both disgusting, which somehow put them on equal footing.

“What are you baking today?” he asked with a sidelong glance. Elain’s eyebrows shot skyward. She followed him up the purple carpeted steps, a relic from some mythical time period in which purple carpet made sense. Though, it did add a certain charm to the otherwise beige, fingerprint stained walls.

“What do you know about my baking?” Elain asked, hoping she sounded appropriately flirty and not breathless with wonder.

“I know that I tried those cranberry bars you posted last week and they turned out like shit.”

“That sounds like user error,” she replied, trying so hard not to grin. He watched her videos? Elain could have died.

“Oh, if definitely was,” he said cheerfully, keeping easy pace with her. “They tasted good, though. What are you making today?”

She swore those eyes of his looked hungry. “Lemon bars.”

Still, he grinned. “Can’t wait to fuck those up, too.”

She could have invited him in. As they reached the landing and her door a mere three steps away, Elain could have asked Lucien to help her bake. Lord knew he would have looked great on camera, even if no one ever saw her face on tiktok. They had to follow her on instagram for that. Still, Lucien’s hands were big and broad and her mostly female audience probably would have liked seeing them as much as Elain liked watching him hold her groceries.

She didn’t invite him in. The words got tangled in her throat, jumbled so when she dug her keys out of her pocket, she heard herself say, “Well…thank you for the help.” ��Anytime,” Lucien replied smoothly, handing her the bags without complaint. He didn’t look around her to try and get a glimpse of her apartment, nor did he offer to come in and help. Elain appreciated that so much, though it was truly a low bar in terms of not being pushy.

“Catch you around,” he said with a wink, turning back for the steps. Elain admired the shifting muscles of his back for a moment—just until he rounded the corner. His thundering steps seemed to clear her head, if only a little.

He was just being neighborly. Friendly.

He watched her videos.

The first thing she did the second she got inside was whip out her phone. And sure enough, buried in her notifications, was Lucien Vanserra quietly liking months of baking videos. How many had he made? All those months of agonizing about dueting him while he was liking all her videos and making her recipes…Elain felt giddy.

She felt like pulling out her ring light, after showering and carefully applying her make up, and dueting his latest video.

New Girl.

Elain loved New Girl.

LUCIEN:

Flopped on his couch, phone on the coffee table, Lucien replayed the afternoon in his mind. He’d been looking for an excuse to talk to Elain for the better part of a year. Ever since her sourdough video popped up on his for you page. He’d been in a dark place then—a new transplant to California for grad school, lonely and now quarantined before he’d had the chance to make new friends. Lucien had never felt so isolated in his life. His whole life was on the east coast, and even if he’d wanted to drop out and go home, there were no flights to take him.

He sure as shit wasn’t making that drive, either. So Lucien did what everyone else did, and began mindlessly scrolling tiktok. He’d recognized the kitchen those delicate hands worked in, and though it made him feel a little creepy, he’d followed the link in her bio to her instagram page only to find the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his entire life living directly beneath him.

Lucien had tried to stage several run-ins with her. At the gym, in the parking lot, even at the pool though it was closed. Elain had never taken the bait. In fact, she barely looked at him at all. Lucien supposed, with a face as beautiful as hers, he simply didn’t register. That didn’t stop him from trying.

And when he couldn’t make conversation with her in person, Lucien turned back to the internet. He ordered a ring light off amazon and made his first video, hoping she’d see it like he’d seen hers. He’d heard her watching New Girl through the vents so he knew she liked it.

After a year, though, Lucien was starting to think it was time to give up on Elain Archeron. Maybe she had a boyfriend. Maybe he wasn’t her type. Hell, maybe she didn’t even like men. They were still in lockdown, still only supposed to go out for essentials, and maybe Elain didn’t want to risk getting sick on his account.

Lucien had sworn he was going to give up. His titkok had blown up by that point—surely she must have seen him at least once. Must have realized he was her neighbor. She could have liked one of his videos if she’d wanted, and she hadn’t.

All that changed with a little ding of his phone. Lucien reached for it, replaying walking her up to her apartment. She’d looked so good, with her golden brown curls stuck to her sweaty forehead, and how the heat had caused the yellow of her strappy sundress to conform to her tan skin. Lucien had forced his eyes forward and his mind anywhere but how she might look beneath him, just as sweat soaked and flushed. How those little, panting breaths might feel against his neck and fuck he had been so close to asking if she wanted help baking before he’d retreated, half hard just from the nearness of her.

He needed to think about something else. Lucien picked up his phone, illuminated in the last pinky rays of daylight pouring through the sliding glass of his balcony doors. Flipping open his phone, Lucien’s heart leapt into his throat.

Areyoubreadyforit dueted your video!

Lucien’s hands all but shook as he watched. She’d changed into a pretty blue top—or dress, he couldn’t tell—and lipsynced through the words, talking to him. Gorgeous, like always, bright eyed and confessing her pretend feelings for him through the medium of a POV video.

Be cool, he told himself even as he slipped on his shoes. Don’t do anything stupid.

Famous last words as Lucien went outside into the dry heat for the escape ladder that would take him straight down to the parking lot.

Or her deck, a floor below.

This is charming, he told himself, well aware he was skirting the line of crazed upstairs stalker. Why not go down the hall and knock on her front door? It was too late—the minute his feet hit the wood, Elain Archeron looked up from the kitchen. Her eyes went wide when she saw him, cheeks covered in a light dusting of flour.

Lucien raised his hand and mouthed, hey.

Elain came to the door, wiping her hands on a pretty pink and white dotted apron. “Hey,” she said, clearly surprised. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied. What Lucien really wanted to say was I like you, but that felt too much given he was standing on her deck like a maniac all because she’d dueted one video. “I ah—I came to see if you wanted any help. With your bars, I mean.”

“Oh,” she murmured, her eyes sweeping over his body. He’d showered after the gym, and still he felt self conscious as he pressed a hand to his stomach through the white fabric of his shirt. “I was actually about to make dinner.”

Lucien’s stomach fell for only a moment as Elain added, “Do you like chicken?”

“I love chicken,” he replied, unwilling to admit he would have eaten trash if she offered it. “Anything to watch the famous Elain Archeron cook.”

Pink stained her cheeks. “Hardly. I think it’s you who is famous, right?”

Lucien followed her into her apartment. The set up was the same—a living room that opened into a kitchen, and a hall that he knew would lead to both a bedroom and a bathroom. Every night, she laid just beneath him.

Maybe tonight, too, if he was lucky. That seemed distinctly like pushing things and yet Lucien still hoped as he closed the door behind him.

“Hardly,” he said, flashing her a smile. She didn’t realize all those followers were merely a monument to his crush on her. Elain glanced over her shoulder, still in the blue dress from the video.

“I guess you saw my duet?”

Her blush was so pretty. Lucien could do nothing but follow after her and try and keep his jaw off the floor. Did she know? Did Elain have any clue the effect she had on him merely by existing? That he wanted to wipe the flour off her face with his tongue?

“It was cute,” he said, bracing his elbows against the counter so he could watch. She wasn’t lying about the chicken—she was currently tying twine around an entire bird she’d seasoned rather nicely. “What took you so long?”

She scoffed. “It was the first interesting video you’d made all year.”

So she had seen them. Lucien’s heart was pounding in his chest. Oh god, oh god, oh god— “Tell me what interests you so I can better curate your experience.”

“I liked the Backstreet Boys videos,” she said, the pretty menace.

“Yeah? And if I make them again, are you going to dance with me?”

Her whole face was flaming red. Elain ducked, sliding her pan into the oven as she said, “I don’t know the steps.”

“I can teach you.” Fuck, Lucien could teach her anything she wanted to know—the steps to cheesy 90’s boy band music, how he liked to be kissed—

“I’ll bet you could,” she replied, those eyes cutting right through him. “Did you come down here to hit on me?”

“That depends,” Lucien grinned back, letting his gaze slide to her mouth. “Do you find it charming or creepy?”

Elain angled her chin as she contemplated. “Charming,” she declared with a pretty smile. Fuck Lucien had to fist his hands at his sides to keep himself casual and in place.

Leaned against the laminate counter, Lucien didn’t dare let his eyes drift below her neck though he fucking wanted to really look at her.

“Does it count as a date if you do all the cooking?”

Elain exhaled a puff of air. “Do you want this to be a date?”

God, Lucien wanted nothing else. He offered her what he prayed was a roguish smile. “Yeah, actually.”

She hesitated. “For…for content?”

“Because I’ve had a pathetic crush on you ever since I moved in,” he replied easily. There was no way in hell he was going to let her think his interest was about titkok fame. One day Lucien would be a lawyer, his tiktoks a blurry memory—his hobby when the world had shut down and nothing more. He had no interest in being an influencer or an actor.

His interest was standing directly in front of him wearing a blue sundress and smeared in flour.

“Oh,” she murmured, her face pink again. “I guess this could be a date. I do have some wine I got from Costco.”

“My favorite,” he lied—again, Lucien would have drank sewer water if she was offering. “I can plan the next date, make it more romantic.”

“Next date?” she teased, pulling out two wine glasses. “You’re awfully confident.”

Lucien only shrugged, at a loss for words. “Hedging my bets.”

Elain offered him a glass of red and when Lucien took a drink, he could hear his older brothers sneering words in his head—grape drink—Eris called anything under one hundred dollars that.

The alcohol took some of the edge off his nerves. Elain was closer than she’d ever been willingly, standing in front of him with that glass pressed to her lips. Lucien wanted to be it, wanted to know what it felt like to have her touch him like that.

“That’s awfully bold,” she said, her voice light and breathless. Fuck fuck fuck.

Lucien set his glass to her nice, round table before he dared a step closer. She was so much shorter than him, would have to lean up on her tiptoes to kiss him if she wanted. God how he hoped she wanted to.

“Isn’t the saying fortune favors the bold?” he murmured, brushing a curl from her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so warm beneath his fingertips. “Maybe it’ll favor me, too.”

Elain looked up through dark, thick lashes. “That was corny.”

He cocked his head as she dared a step toward him and oh my god, this was happening. Lucien didn’t dare breathe when she angled her chin, her thick cascade of hair falling down her shoulders. Eyes bright with invitation. All he had to do was not fuck this up. Just one kiss, which was more than he’d had for an entire year, despite wanting her that long.

“All that matters is that my corny line worked,” he replied, reaching for her cheek. Lucien threaded his fingers through her hair before lowering himself to her. She surged upward, meeting him in the middle for what he thought was the most perfect first kiss in the history of first kisses. She smelled like rosemary and tasted like sugared lemon. Her mouth was soft, her fingers curling against his biceps as she reached for something to steady herself.

It was over far too quickly. Lucien wanted to yank her against him. To haul her up on the table and declare she was the only meal he was interested in. Already, his body was far tighter than he would have liked—all the blood he needed to form sentences was currently rushing to his cock.

Elain smiled as she lowered herself back to the ground. “So uh…dinner?”

Lucien’s eyes nearly rolled back into his skull at the breathless way she said those words.

“I’m yours to command,” he said stupidly. “Tell me where you want me.”

He didn’t miss how her eyes darted toward the hall. He’d go, if she told him to. Lucien would lay flat on the bed and let her do every depraved thing she was thinking of—he’d thank her for it, even. Lucien didn’t care what it was, as long as they were both naked and— “Bread?” she was saying, though she, too, sounded far away.

“Yeah,” he replied, praying she didn’t look down at his shorts. “Whatever you want.”

ELAIN:

Whatever you want.

What she wanted was for Lucien Vanserra to take off his shirt and let her lick the line between his abs straight to his— “How is this?” he asked, pulling out a loaf pan of bread he’d been working on.

“It’s good,” she lied. It was sagging in the middle, but not a bad first try given they were both distracted. It had been one polite kiss. One kiss.

One kiss where he’d cupped her whole face in the palm of his hands. Now she knew he smelled like sunshine and woodsy smoke and how his arms felt beneath her fingers. It was too much knowledge for her small kitchen and her overactive imagination. Lucien was being perfectly polite, unaware that Elain was trying to figure out how to get him into her bedroom.

Did she just ask? Did she say, hey Lucien, do you want to have sex with me—

What happened if he said no? Elain didn’t think she could stand the rejection after that kiss. She wouldn't just have to move out of her building, but the whole state if she wanted to escape him. While she carved the chicken, Lucien refilled their wine glasses and set the table, glancing over at her surreptitiously. Likely wondering why she was acting so strange.

Lucien had a talent for keeping the conversation going which Elain immensely appreciated. She didn’t have to think about what to say—not when he so effortlessly had a comeback for everything she said. He maintained eye contact and somehow managed to be funny and laid back and charming.

She should have sent him home. He was dangerous. Elain had the distinct feeling that a man like Lucien Vanserra could very easily ruin her life. Which was why, when dinner was over and a third glass of wine seemed ruinous, Elain meant to say, You should probably go home.

But what she actually said was, “Do you want to stay and watch a movie?”

Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “Of course.”

God, he knew. He knew what she was trying to do when he slid off his tennis shoes and padded to the couch, one strong arm slung over the back of the white sofa. “Something scary,” he told her when she began scrolling, so close her arm was brushing his chest.

“Subtle,” she joked, daring to look up at him. That was a mistake. Lucien’s expression seemed to burn, lips parted as though that were the only way for him to get in enough oxygen. She felt the same—worse, maybe, when his fingers gripped her chin gently, tilting her face toward him.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” he said, his mouth brushing hers. “In fact, I’d like to be a lot less subtle. Skip the movie and ask me to stay with you tonight.”

“What about the second date?” she asked, afraid if she slept with him, he’d go back to ignoring her.

“We’ll start when we wake up. I was thinking a picnic,” he panted, his thick, long hair forming a curtain around them.

“You’re just saying that so I’ll invite you into the bedroom.”

Lucien smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. “You have no idea, Elain. Absolutely no idea how long I’ve been trying to get your attention.”

“How long?” she challenged, wondering why she was still dragging this out. All she wanted was to kiss him again. Longer, this time. Long enough all her good sense evaporated beneath the heat of his body.

“When did I create that account, again?” he asked. She opened her mouth to call him a liar and Lucien pressed his advantage. This kiss was not like before. There was no hesitance, not tentative, polite pressing of the lips. Lucien knew he had her—or, perhaps he was afraid she’d come to her senses and he needed to take what he could before that happened.

All Elain knew was one moment she’d been about to speak and the next his mouth was slanted against her own. One of his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap before Elain could protest.

As if she would have. Elain was too quick to straddle his waist, well aware she was in a dress and the only thing keeping her from being fully bare against him was a thin strip of cotton already wet from the kiss before. Not that Lucien seemed to be faring much better given the moment she was seated against him, she could feel his own erection poking up through his shorts.

Good, she thought with delight. Arms wrapped around his neck, Elain kissed him like she, too, was never going to get another shot at him. His tongue swept into her mouth, pulling the most embarrassing, unexpected moan from her throat.

Beneath her, Lucien seemed to buck unintentionally. He held her tighter, pushing her against him until his straining cock was lined up with her perfectly. It was experimental, to roll her hips against his shorts. Just to see what would happen if she did.

Lucien groaned. Loud and sweet, right into her mouth, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress in an attempt to get her to do it again. It had been so long since Elain had kissed anyone—even before quarantine and the pandemic, Elain hadn’t been with anyone since she’d broken up with her ex.

It was good, the taste of him in her mouth and his hands on her body. Knowing he wanted her, had wanted her maybe as long as she’d wanted him. That they were in this little hell together, desperate and needy. Elain arched again, rubbing herself against the hard slap of his body until Lucien pulled his mouth off her.

“Elain, Elain have mercy. Please,” he panted, sweeping his thumbs over her cheeks as he gulped down air. “You’re going to make me come if you keep that up.”

She didn’t believe him, rolling against his erection again. Lucien threw his head back, moaning while his back arched up off the couch. He was so absurdly hot, so ridiculously sexy. She yanked at his shirt, lifting it over his chest and throwing it to the floor.

“Maybe I want you to come,” she replied, hands gliding down the muscular planes of his body.

Lucien’s dark eyes fell on her and in one smooth, fluid motion, he had them both on their feet.

Well, he was on his feet. She was in his arms while he strode purposefully through her apartment to her bedroom.

“How do you know where I sleep?” she asked when he tossed her to the rosy duvet.

He angled his head toward the ceiling. “Same layout. How many nights have you laid just below me, touching that pretty pussy of yours, Elain?”

“Almost as many as I’ve touched myself thinking about you,” she dared to reply. Lucien doubled over, hands gripping the edge of the bed frame to steady himself. She gestured toward her nightstand, determined that her night with Lucien would live up to how she’d imagined it. “Would you like to see?”

He groaned again. “Yes. Show me.”

Elain sat up, eyes never leaving Lucien’s face as she reached behind her for the zipper. She had to stand to shimmy out of her dress, noting how white his knuckles were. He was clearly holding to the wood for dear life, which made stripping all the more fun. The wine helped with her nerves, leaving her own hands steady as she removed her bra and then so, so slowly, pulled her underwear to her ankles.

“Fucking christ,” he whispered, breathing through his nose like a wild, near feral animal.

“Don’t move,” she reminded him as she laid herself back out on the bed. She’d get herself mostly there, she told herself. Spreading apart her thighs, Elain let Lucien see her fully unclothed just like she’d imagined.

“What’s in the drawer?” he asked when she raked her nails lightly over her parted legs.

“Things that vibrate. Do I need one?” she asked him, thinking she likely did.

“Not tonight,” he whispered, his gaze fully on her pussy. “I have other ideas.”

Elain’s fingers slid through the wetness coating her skin and Lucien whimpered. “What ideas?” she asked, rubbing slow circles over her clit. In truth, she rarely touched herself like this, preferring the ease of vibrating toys. It was fun to tease him, though. To see his obvious want written all over his face. To see the straining bulge in his shorts.

Lucien, as if reading her mind, yanked them off over his hips, kicking them onto the floor without looking. It was Elain’s turn to whimper at the sight of his large, thick cock now held in his equally large hand.

He pumped himself once, unaware of the thrill of arousal that spiked through her. She understood how a little grinding could bring him so close to the edge. If he kept stroking himself, she was likely to come, too. The sight of his muscular body, how his cock seemed big despite his hands, how hungry his eyes were was all too much.

“What ideas, Lucien?” she asked again, still drawing lazy circles around that swollen nub of flesh. Lucien came closer and closer still, until he was at the side of the bed. Lifting his body onto the mattress with one powerful thigh, straddling her stomach so his cock nestled between her bare breasts.

“Fuck, Elain,” he whispered, thrusting up between the valley of skin. She pressed them together, using her fingers still sticky from her own arousal to tease the slick head of his erection.

Their eyes met. “Do you have a condom, Lucien?”

He groaned. That was a no.

“Upstairs,” he said, thrusting again and again, slowly, clearly doing so for the view. She could have scooted a few inches and found his cock in her mouth. It was so tempting, and yet the moment she began to readjust herself, Lucien was swinging his body off of hers and throwing his shorts back on.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice ragged.

A second later, he was gone. No shirt, no shoes. Her door slammed shut as he raced back upstairs. Elain heard him thudding inelegantly overhead, heard his door slam, and then a second later he was back.

“Hard to fucking run like this,” he panted, ripping his shorts off again. Elain reached for him, wanting to kiss him as he tossed several foiled packets to the bed but Lucien fell to his knees loud enough the people below her likely heard, grabbed her by the knees, and dragged her right to the edge.

Without preamble, his mouth was on her and Elain understood why he’d said no to the vibrating toys. “Oh, god,” she moaned, the sound echoed by his own appreciative groan. Elain had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep herself silent even as she pressed her thighs around her face, ankles crossed behind his head.

Lucien’s tongue was far better than her fingers, than any toy she could possibly own. Lucien licked with expert, unyielding precision and when one of his fingers slid into her body, Elain was wrecked. Grinding into him with shameless abandon. She’d never been so easy like this, so unconcerned about being sexy versus just chasing pleasure.

Lucien pumped one, and then two, before finally working a third finger into her. Stretching her open to take him, she knew, though in truth Elain didn’t care so long as he kept rubbing that spot just inside her body and kept licking her clit.

Elain couldn’t remember the last time a man had gotten her off. Had one ever? Graysen hadn’t, which had necessitated the toys. She could use them while he fucked her, which Gray had preferred. And Elain didn’t mind that—really, she didn’t—but sometimes a little effort would have been nice.

Maybe it was unfair to compare her ex to Lucien, but Gray had never eaten her out like this. There was a desperation to Lucien, like he needed to do this perfectly—like he’d never see her again and this was his only chance.

If he always ate pussy like this, he could see her whenever he wanted.

There was nothing elegant about the way she came. Clamped tight around his fingers, riding his face as she split apart, her body arching so hard off the bed she heard her spine crack. Elain scrambled back, gulping down air while Lucien licked himself clean of her before chasing her up the bed.

Their mouths collided, messy and rough in a clash of teeth and tongues. She could feel him between her legs, torturing himself by rubbing the head of his cock through her slick arousal. All she had to do was spread herself a little wider and he’d be inside her. She wanted him in her, wanted to know what it was like to share a body, to have him.

Elain shoved him, ignoring that the taste of her pussy was now in her own mouth.

“My turn,” she whispered.

LUCIEN:

He was dreaming. That was the only thing that made sense to him because otherwise he was living in a reality in which Elain Archeron was naked. Naked and pushing him to the bed, where he was also naked and hanging on a razors edge. A condom was going to do absolutely nothing to save him. The second he was buried in her, he knew it was all over. Lucien had been too close on the couch just kissing her.

Usually, going down on his partner tempered some of his arousal. With Elain, it has only made things worse. Flat on his back while Elain and licked and sucked her way down his chest, Lucien knew he was ruined.

He felt her reach across the bed, searching for one of the condoms he’d hastily grabbed. It was optimistic to take a handful and yet he’d gotten this far, hadn’t he? Why not hope he’d get to fuck her the entirety of the night. That maybe he hadn’t brought enough, even, and would make another trip upstairs.

Maybe this time he’d bring her with him, just so he could go down on her in his own bed, too. Lucien was certain his sheets could be improved by her pussy smeared across the fabric. For now, Lucien was happy to watch Elain settle between his legs and rip the corner of the gold foil packet.

Lucien gathered up her hair. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he whispered, thinking he ought to say something appreciative. Thank you for fucking me, I might be in love with you now didn’t seem like the right thing.

Elain looked up at him just as her fingers curled around the base of his cock. Did he think he was somehow owning this experience? That he was exuding confidence? Lucien practically whimpered at her touch, his hips arching off the bed.

She smiled. “Do you taste as good as you look?” she asked in that sweet voice of hers. God, she had been sent to kill him.

What a way to go.

“Find out,” he said in a voice that was decidedly not his. Whoever that man was, he sounded like he had a modicum of control, which Lucien absolutely no longer possessed. Maybe it would be smart to come, he rationalized. Maybe he should have taken a minute upstairs and finished himself and come back with the kind of stamina women boasted about.

Maybe— “Holy shit,” he choked, gripping her hair tight without meaning to. Elain sucked him into her mouth, unnoticed as he agonized over what to do next. The sight was obscene, her pink lips wrapped around the skin of his throbbing erection. She slid nearly half way before she gagged, widening her jaw to take in a breath of air. Lucien nearly came from the sight of her tongue peeking from her lips, of her hand gripping him so tight she must have felt his erratic, pounding heart.

“Baby,” he tried, unsure what he was even trying to accomplish. Lucien could die happy at the sight of Elain’s bobbing head, of her soft, wet mouth working over him with the kind of enthusiasm he had only once dreamed of. “It’s too much.”

That was true, at least. His whole body was so tight, was buzzing with anticipation. He was buzzing, practically electric.

“You’re going to make me come,” he whispered, trying one last time to get her off him. It hadn’t been a minute and she was going to laugh and call all her friends and tell them how quickly he’d come in her mouth.

Elain hummed, pulling him back to the present. “Come,” she said. A trail of her own saliva connected those swollen lips to his cock and fuck he almost did. He quite liked her telling him what to do, now that he thought about it. Elain took him back in her mouth, squeezed her fingers tight. One, two—

Lucien came with a rough gasp of air. She’d ripped that orgasm out of him and when he jerked his ups upward, unable to avoid the instinctual desperation to bury himself deeper, Elain let him pour himself into her throat.

Lucien groaned again when Elain wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

“I think that makes us even,” she said primly, sitting up on her heels.

He gaped for a second, still leaking come onto his stomach. Was she serious?

“Get on your hands and knees,” he growled. It was the only thing he could think to say that wasn’t thank you, I love you— which, again, seemed like the wrong thing to tell her.

“Are you going to spank me?” she teased, though Elain did exactly as he asked. Lucien’s eyes rolled upward at the sight of her heart shaped ass wiggling right in front of him.

He ignored the condom she’d begun to open, unsure if it was safe to use it. It took three seconds to roll it over his erection and another to bring his palm stinging against her ass cheek.

Elain gasped. She hadn’t expected him to do that. Lucien hadn’t either, but she’d put the idea in his head and Lucien couldn’t resist.

“Are you going to be my good girl?” he asked her. Say yes, say yes, say yes—

“What if I’m not?” she replied. Lucien didn’t know, though he lined himself him up that pretty, wet pussy of hers and pushed himself in an inch. The soft, warm heat of her body nearly made him come again.

He was so fucked. “My good girl gets to come on my cock. And my bad girl gets her ass spanked until she’s raw.”

Elain didn’t hesitate. “I’m your good girl.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck— Lucien buried himself inside her with a mighty stroke, using her hip to pull her back roughly. Elain moaned, squeezed so tight around him she might have been his own skin. For the first time in his life, Lucien thanked God for the condom. It was the only thing that kept him from becoming a mindless, rutting animal behind her.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asked, slowly pulling himself out. Lucien would remember this moment until he died. On his death bed, thinking not of a life well lived, but his hands on Elain Archeron’s ass, spreading her apart while his cock vanished into her perfect pussy.

“Make me,” she replied, half challenge, half plea. Maybe he should have asked for one of the toys in her bedside table, just to ensure his success. This was fine, he told himself. He’d put her on his back if he had to, and if that failed, he’d just go back down on her.

Actually, that seemed like an incredible idea. He nearly proposed it when Elain moaned, shifting to her forearms and changing the angle. Lucien gasped, suddenly deeper than he’d been before. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

“Do you like that?” he asked. It was a genuine question. He thrust again, the head of his cock brushing against something distinctly soft. He knew that spot—he’d had his fingers on it not five minutes before.

“Yes,” she panted. Perfect, he told himself. Keep his strokes steady and deep and he’d have her shaking around him in no time.

Though, just to be sure, Lucien snaked a hand around them for her clit. That made her moan, made her pulse around him which Lucien liked more than he’d ever admit.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said, unsure what he was even saying. His mind was repeating out a rhythm—stroke, rub, stroke, rub, stroke, rub—

“My good girl takes my cock so well,” he continued, babbling out words as he tried to hold back his own desperate need to come. Again. It seemed important to call her his good girl, to plant that seed in her head so when they woke in the morning and he bypassed all the social niceties to ask her to be his girlfriend, it seemed normal.

Natural, even.

Elain had her face buried in her pillows, her hands pulling at her sheets until she’d pulled the corners off.

“Come for me, baby,” Lucien ordered, praying she would. He wasn’t above begging if he had to. “Come on my cock, let me see—”

She was loud enough to disturb the neighbors, not that Lucien cared. The sound speared straight into his balls, breathless and high pitched and needy.

His name, he realized. She’d screamed his name like that.

“Fuck, Elain—”

He couldn’t get another word out, not when his own orgasm ripped through him. Lucien couldn’t think, his eyes blurred black at the edges. When he did manage to look around, his eyes landed on the clock.

He felt like he’d been fucking her for hours. He’d managed twenty solid minutes. She’d come both times, though, which felt like a win all the same.

Lucien discarded the condom gingerly in the bathroom trash, giving her a moment to process what had happened alone. If she wanted him to leave, he’d go though he might also get on his knees and beg. That was a very real possibility, too.

When he padded back into the dark room, Elain was under the blankets. The corner was flopped to the side in what he hoped was invitation. She smiled when she saw him, pulling him toward her without a word. Lucien tumbled into the bed, gathering her into his arms. Her hair smelled like honey, her body like sweat and to his relief, Elain was naked beneath the covers.

“Let's make lemon bars in the morning,” he whispered. Elain twisted to look at him. It was clear she expected him to take off.

“Okay,” she agreed, her brown eyes wide and shining. “And then what?”

“We have our picnic, don’t we?” Lucien didn’t mention he fully intended to fuck her in the grass. That could be a fun little surprise for later, after he’d convinced her to put on another one of those strappy little sundresses.

Elain burrowed her head in the crook of his arm. “Good.”

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he said, though in truth he could use some water and a thirty minute nap.

“I know you’re not, Lucien,” she said, trailing her finger over his stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Neither was he.

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #no pretty graphic/moodboard you ask?#look- you get what you get

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speedlimit15 · 11 months

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being/growing up in a family where everyone disagrees with you politically but from different angles is so difficult. always reworking rethinking the arguments you yourself are developing and exploring and trying to understand everyone’s perspectives to gain insight into why they might feel that way to better make your own case or guide yourself to more information. my siblings and parents always made a joke out of how angry i got about stuff i “knew nothing” about (even though i had the opposite problem, i was absorbing TONS of information). and my dad is like a weird master word twister/interrogator bc of the military so yeah because i couldn’t calculate all those angles fast enough to respond in a way they would understand i’d just freak out bc i had tons of anger issues back then. my mom was the only one who even kind of understood and all she told me was i was “extra empathetic” and “extra sensitive” and i should try to exercise more which like that’s just not something you tell a teen girl they will flip out but anyway. and then i had to be online for hours about it later and then wake up at 5 am the next morning to go to school and be surrounded by kids who also thought i was fucking weird LOL being a teenager was the fucking worst for real thank god i had like. andrew jackson jihad and the juno soundtrack and modest mouse and arcade fire or i would have tried to kill myself for real way sooner LMAO

oh also this is why i don’t want to talk to any of them at all really.

#really oversharing in here be careful tread carefully #this is a legit rambling journal entry type post

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kingmikoto · 2 years

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𝙥𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨 ☆ 𝙠𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤

☆ ──── 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: bc i love this man so damn much i just couldnt resist writing about him

☆ ──── 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨): suggestive?

As much as most people loathed the summer, Kakuchou loved it. He never minded getting kissed by the sun, and you were not the type to shy away from it either. While most girls would stay out of the rays of sunshine and wear long sleeves and long pants to avoid getting dark, you were sitting right beside him with a popsicle in hand, dark denim shorts and cropped tank top as you lapped up the dripping treat.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the way you were licking it from the bottom of the shaft—I mean base to the tip–I mean top.

“Jeez.” He mumbled to himself as he finally cast away his shameless ogling.

He really hadn’t meant to gawk at you when you were absolutely tearing up that popsicle, but could you really blame him? You were just so damn cute and sexy all at once. How could he not admire you?

“What’s up?” You inquired as you looked up at him while your tongue was practically scoring the popsicle from the bottom all the way back up to the tip once again.

His eyes only widened while his blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Luckily, his outgrown hair had covered his ears now, and the blush could easily be blamed from the scorching and unforgiving heatwave.

“N-nothin’” He mumbled, finally averting his gaze from yours.

You raised a curious brow to him as you tried to gather the expression on his face that was completely flustered by now.

“You sureeee?” You let the last word drag out in a playful tone which only further embarrassed the man.

Now, you knew good and damn well the way Kakuchou had felt toward you, but you were not one to make the first move. You were an old fashioned kind of gal so you never chased after a man, but teasing Kakuchou was beginning to feel like your new favorite sport.

“Yes…” He replied quietly. The sound of buzzing cicadas filled the air as you sat back again and giggled to yourself.

“What’s so funny?”

You shrugged and took a big bite of your popsicle as you hummed a tune to yourself. This slightly annoyed Kakuchou. He knew how playfully dismissive you could become when he wanted an answer and you outright refused to answer him with that impish yet cute smile that played on your pretty lips.

He sighed. “You’re annoying.”

“Am I?” You replied as you tossed your popsicle stick in the trash bin beside you.

“You are.”

You watched as he began to gather his hair in a small ponytail. Your eyes went straight to his teeth that held a hair tie and how his lips parted. He was so effortlessly hot.

“How’s that?” You put a hand on your as you gave him a playful smile.

“You never say how you feel.” He finished wrapping his hair up as he got up from his spot and threw out the small wooden stick.

You let out a scoff. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Huh?” He felt his cheeks getting warm again at your response.

“You never say how you feel, Kakuchou.” You shoved your hands in your jean pockets as you kicked the pebble on the asphalt.

“I…” His voice trailed off for a moment as he stood in front of you not knowing how to retaliate. Kakuchou had a naturally shy nature around women. He never spoke too loud or try to gather their attention when he was around them and that made him even more attractive to them.

In fact, he was practically a chick magnet. The scar that he wore jagged against his left eye was always a story to be told and women flocking around him to share their sympathies and pouty glossed lips as they asked to touch it. Of course, he was a modest man. He would politely decline with rosy tinted cheeks and an abashed expression.

It drove you mad honestly. You hate the way he just allowed them to talk to him that way with their chests puffed out and their flirty tones. He was never really one to entertain them, but he wasn’t really one to just tell them to fuck off either.

“It’s not like you make it easy, [name].”

“Eh? I don’t? You let women talk you up all the time, but it’s not easy to talk to me?” You countered defensively.

Stupid.

You clamped your mouth shut as you watched his expression light up. His brow quirked in a lively manner and the grin on his lips made your heart drop to your ass.

God, you really knew how to play your cards right, huh [name]?

“Are you jealous?”

You turned your body away from him as you began to make your way home on the path you two had taken to get there.

“Hey!” He laughed as he tried to catch up to you, but you were already starting to break into a sprint.

The air was beginning to get heavy as your mirth echoed through the woodsy area that led back to your home. Little droplets began to fall onto your face and you stopped for a moment as you stuck your palm out to the heavens above and looked up at the overcast sky.

Rain began to fall faster as you caught your breath and Kakuchou footsteps began to get closer as they slowed down.

“Oh, it’s raining.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” You replied sarcastically not bothering to turn around to face him.

His warmth suddenly pressed against your back and his lips were floating above the shell of your ear. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Your whole body became rigid at his closeness. You had never experienced such nearness to Kakuchou other than a friendly sidehug or handshake. He never dared enter your space so unprovoked. Well, not not unprovoked. You had definitely exchanged words that pushed him to evoke this specific reaction. Not that you ever really expected it to come from him.

Like you had mentioned before, there was a certain shyness about him that made you think that he would never really come around to confessing his feelings to you, yet here he was suddenly all mighty and in a position of “power”.

“Because–”

“Because?” He pushed for an answer as he tucked the hair behind your ear.

Your bodies were beginning to soak in the summer rain showers that you so desperately craved for. The coolness of the rain that split opened a crevice within the humidity and heat that shrouded the early July afternoon.

“You’re making me nervous.” You admitted. It was the last thing you ever wanted to admit to him, but here you were doing just that.

He paused for a moment taking in your words. “You make me nervous, too, [name].”

An involuntary smile split across your lips at the initial mentioning of his long awaited confession. “Do tell.”

A nervous laughter emitted from his throat over the loud sound of the rain hitting the trees and the lush green grass.

“I think it’s pretty obvious I’ve liked you for a long time, [name].”

“Is it?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head as embraced you from behind, eliciting a shudder from his touch.

“I think so.” His lips moved against the apple of your cheek, raising goosebumps along your skin.

You felt warmth bloom into your cheeks and in the pit of your stomach. “Can you show me how much you like me?”

You felt his smile widen against your cheek as he lifted his hand to cup your cheek and bring your face to his own. His eyes were half lidded yet ludic as he gazed down at you tenderly. He brought his lips to yours in an overdue kiss. It felt electric. Never had a kiss made you feel so alive and giddy for more. He was gentle as he pressed his lips against yours and you melted into him.

Giggles and shy looks were thumbed between kisses until you couldn’t kiss each other any longer from how much you would break into fits of mirth and toothy grins.

“Took you long enough.” You teased as you gazed up at him with rain soaked lashes.

“I was waiting for the right moment.”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped out of his embrace and began to make a run for it once again and he quickly followed behind.

“Not again!”

You laughed at him as you made your way down the pathway. “You couldn't even catch me if your life depended on it!”

Now that made him run full speed at you and that was enough to terrify you and send you full speed toward your place in a fit of giggles. His arms almost instantly engulfed you as you shrieked in his loving embrace. The feeling of warmth and comfort surging through your body once again as his tender lips met yours again. The cool rain dripped down your soaked clothed bodies and the apples of your cheeks as the softness of your body met his again and again and again. He was truly drunk by your touch. His indulgence in you would never end for as long as you would stay in his heavenly clutches.

#kakucho x reader #kakuchou hitto #kakucho scenarios #bonten #bonten boys #bonten x you #bonten kakucho #tokrev kakucho #kakucho fluff #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev #tokyorev fluff #tokyo rev x you #tokyorev x reader

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liquorisce · 3 years

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for tonight’s class I would like to introduce y’all to my newest headcanon -

Concept: sugar momma Mikasa / poor Eren aka sheltered rich girl Mikasa / houseboy Eren

NSFW|18+ cw: humiliation, money-for-sex, name calling.

It starts with loathing. He’s the anti-thesis of everything that’s ever been drilled into her, unrestrained where she is restrained, careless where she is overly careful, immodest where she is meant to be modest. The unfortunate, unaccomplished Houseboy of twenty, and the perfect, flawless woman of twenty-six.

… Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman.

She knows he is all this because he doesn’t even bother hiding his disdain for her; even when he’s driving her to her various engagements, or doing her errands. There’s a glint in his eyes akin to displeasure every time she allows herself to stare at his reflection in the rear view mirror when he’s driving, a sadistic glee in catching her staring when their eyes meet.

She never manages to keep Eren’s gaze, it always makes her shy, flustered, hot maybe, bc he looks like he knows. How could she know when even she doesn’t know, really? Mikasa doesn’t know what she’s doing sparing a second glance at the boy who her godmother employs for all the work she doesn’t like getting her hands dirty with, doesn’t know why she lets his presence bother her so much.

But he’s there, every where she goes, dark, beautiful eyes that follow her because he’s paid to do so, picks up her shit because that’s his job.

The derision isn’t part of his job though. But she sees it when Kiyomi makes her careless remarks, when she finds yet another flaw in an existence she’s strived so hard to make flawless. The humour in his eyes, kind of mocking; it gives herself something else to focus on apart from the splinters in the person that makes up Mikasa Ackerman.

…

There’s a freedom to his derision, his mocking, and she discovers it after poorly made judgements following desperation and the need to keep up appearances, that make her strike a bargain. “… Come with me to the gala,” she says, from the backseat of her car. She meant to command it, in the way that Kiyomi often does, but it isn’t in her. After all, her godmother only taught her obedience, unwavering, not authority.

“I expect I’ll be driving you there anyway, Princess, not to worry.” He keeps his eyes on the road, not bothering to even look up at her, his tone unremarkably dry as he uses the little nickname that drives her insane.

He’s not wrong, though. That’s his job. And what she had in mind definitely wasn’t part of the job description. She takes a deep breath, reminds her that what she had in mind was purely motivated by her desire to avoid all potential suitors in this gathering that had no doubt been lined up by Kiyomi, herself. But she wouldn’t be there and this was her chance to escape the fake smiling, the hours of sipping on wine while men tried to put their arms around her when she was clearly uninterested.

She’d stressed to herself that this was truly the only motivation but, she after where she ends up, she doubts it. “… As my date. I’d like you to accompany there as my plus one.”

His eyes almost bulge out of his sockets. Slowly, his lips curve into a sneer. “Houseboys don’t belong in galas.” And when he meets her eyes and sees her unflinching gaze right back at him, he asks, “… What about your aunt?”

“She won’t be there.”

He ponders it, she can feel him consider it as he turns smoothly into the next junction. “… What’s in it for me?”

Mikasa is speechless for a moment because she hadn’t thought this far. She shouldn’t have had to if she could have ordered it from him the way her position allowed her to. But Eren’s stopped the car by the side of the street, and he’s looking at her unreservedly, almost challenging her. “Money,” she blurts out, because what else is there? She couldn’t retort confidently that an evening with her would be more than enough return on his time, because he doesn’t probably like her that much anyway. “… I’ll pay you by the hour.”

Eren grins. “There’s a term for this, you know.”

She blanches. Prostitution? Whoring? She should probably ascertain that she was in no way abusing her authority as employer to solicit sexual favours, this was merely a profitable arrangement to avoid scrutiny from suitors and -

“I’d be your… sugar baby.” He says it delightfully, kind of sinfully, like he enjoys the way the syllables sound on his tongue.

“Then that makes me…” -

“A sugar momma.” He clicks his tongue as he turns back around. “… Well, I’m going to need some clothes then,” he says gleefully. “… I don’t think I’d look very… “pretty” … next to you like this, Princess.”

…

She’d been wrong. Terribly, dreadfully wrong. She’d shied away the little voices in her head that laughed when she’d told herself she was only in it for a ruse.

She’d doubled down harder when the same voices in her head had sighed happily at the Gala, when Eren had stood by her and placed his arm around her waste dutifully, his few extra inches making a solid wall of chest of behind her, making her feel the strangest feeling of warm and fuzzy.

She’d ignored their turmoil when, after swiping her card for a horde of designer shirts and suits, he said, “… Don’t you want to see me in them? So you can choose which one you like best?”

She’d played deaf when they’d gotten back home and he’d taken off his shirt in her room, without warning, broad back and rippling muscles and smooth tan skin that she ached to touch.

So really, she has no one but herself to blame for where is right now, bent over her perfect, pink vanity mirror - the one with the little lightbulbs Kiyomi had installed.

The face she sees in the mirror is one of a stranger; panting, flushed, full rounded breasts heaving in her reflection. Naked to her gaze. Naked to his touch.

Eren’s mouth ghosts over her ear, as he angles himself behind her, opening her up with his tip. “Not quite the lady of the house anymore, are you?”

Her slinky red dress is bunched up at the waist, held up by his fingers as the take purchase on her hips. He slides in smoothly, her pussy gripping him, hot and wet. She makes an embarrassing noise both down below as well as from her lips, a little gasp, like she hadn’t expected how full she would feel.

“Look at you, Princess,” he runs his mouth along her neck, “… torn dress, naked with the houseboy.” He spits out the last bit with disdain. “… What would people say? Guess perfect, sweet, Mikasa Ackerman isn’t that perfect after all, huh?”

It makes her whole body tingle, the way he talks to her, mocking, like he doesn’t care; the way he squeezes her, hands on her breasts without necessarily being careful. She looks in the mirror and sees exactly what he tells her; her hair messy and raked through. Her body flushed and out of control, her hips raised towards him wantonly.

A far cry from the image of perfection she was raised to me, no hair out of place, dress neatly buttoned up, face composed at all times. She feels his heat next to hers, his breath on her skin and she feels a little bit like him - wild, maybe, but mostly free.

So she bucks back into him, eager for that feeling again, that wildness within her, the tingles from deep within her core that are only caused by him being so deeply embedded within her. But instead of letting her ride him, he grasps her hips firmly, stills her.

“What’s in it for me, Mi-ka-sa?” Each syllable of her name is like fire on the shell of her outer lip. It humiliates her, the way he talks to her, like he’s only doing her a favour, like Poor, Pretty Mikasa couldn’t even go out and get fucked if she wanted to so, so of course he’d oblige.

He isn’t wrong. And she doesn’t want to negotiate. She’s ladylike in enough even in this desperate state to understand the power of her bargain, so she simply whispers a contination: “… I’ll pay you.” Just like she’d said for his clothes, for his perfumes, the swanky shoes he’s been sporting of late.

He stiffens, his grip on her tightening, like he wasn’t expecting that response. But she can feel himself twitch inside her, and she hopes, prays that he isn’t as unaffected as he sounds. “Of course. That’s what rich girls like you are good for, isn’t that right, Princess?” And he rams inside her with a maddening intensity.

He slides his fingers through her hair, fisting her ponytail, so she can look him in the eye when he fucks her. “… Make the payment,” he says, his voice hoarse. And she reaches for her phone, the ping of his transfer instantaneous. An amount he’d never have made on his houseboys salary in just one evening.

A fury laces through him, the entitlement of this woman in front of him, who doesn’t even beg or plead or even flirt with him to get what he wants, but simply flashes her card. It’s compounded by the way she looks at him, pretty doe-eyes looking so innocent, like she’d never even guess the thoughts going through his mind.

And she wouldn’t. There’s no way she’d know what he thinks of when he looks at her, when he sees her stifled voice under the weight of Ms Azumabito, when he sees her beautiful body that was always so faithfully wrapped in the most modest of dresses, come undone before him tonight.

There’s no way she’d know how many times he’d thought of her in this position, how many times he’d wanted to tear off her maddeningly well-fit clothes from her body, if only to get her to notice him, or if only to feast his eyes on her perfect, perfect body.

Because all said and done, despite how Eren liked to mock her, her body really was perfect, her cunt simply divine, her breasts absolutely glorious; the most perfect thing he’d ever held in his hands, and it fills him with the most maddening lust.

She whimpers under the pressure of him, pretty noises, pleasing sounds, so docile it makes him want to thrust into her at a pace that suited only him. It’s not something he can even help, Mikasa brings this out of him, drags it from the pits of his soul, makes him ravish her with the hunger of a starving man.

He rubs between her legs just so he can see it; his eyes are trained on her face, on each quiver of her body, his mouth whispering that she really was perfect after all, because “… only a perfect slut would milk my cock like you do.” It makes her unravel, like praise almost, “… Been so good all your life but I didn’t know you’d take my cock so good,” makes her shatter around him, convulsing, being held up only by his strong arms keeping her in place.

“You want my cum?” He asks her, innocently, almost. As if he could walk away and chain the monster inside of him that wanted to pain her back with his name, dripping in white. He doesn’t expect much from her, and it’s certainly not a shameful nod, red-faced and almost guilty.

“Then say it.” He demands, yanking her up to look into his eyes, green and fiery and drunk with lust.

“May I please,” - he swears, he fucking swears, because of course Mikasa would be this polite, even in bed, even after a fucking orgasm - “have your cum?”

And because he’s an asshole and isn’t convinced he grabs her ass and smacks it, a pretty pink colour blooming under his hand. “… And what’s in it for me?”

It’s a ridiculous question. Selfish, cruel, almost, because her body was everything, her sweet breath so close to his lips was everything, the way she felt so warm, so fucking tight… it was everything. But the sadistic part of him wants to see her break, wants to see her beg; wants to take away the one thing that still gives her control of him.

“Please,” she sobs, not even thinking to confront him, too stimulated by this point to even think clearly, “… I’ll pay you. I’ll buy you anything. Whatever you need.” Her voice sounds so beautifully hoarse. “… Please don’t stop fucking me. Please come ins,” -

… and before she can finish, before she can make any of the transfers, he goes over the edge, panting, feeling her up impossibly, his passion dripping from her folds.

#eremika smut #I’m too fucking sleepy to see if this makes sense #but I’m already writing a proper chapter 1 for this #eremika #liquorisce fanfiction

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mooniefics · 4 years

Text

little cockwarming blurb for eren bc,, im a sucker for the thought of him getting jealous n punishing u like that (also lowkey size kink ??? mayb)

full.

that’s what you felt—that’s how you always felt when eren was inside of you, hips and thighs pressed flush against your ass as his hands kept you seated in his lap. you couldn’t recall a time where he’d ever left you truly unsatisfied, whether it was something brief and lazy on the mornings you slept over at his place before work, or something rough and drawn out when his roommate wasn’t home, the kind of fucking that made it difficult for you to remember your own name by the end of it. but for as amazing as he was in bed, the most giving, attentive partner you’d ever had the pleasure of calling your own, his greatest flaw was his jealousy.

you didn’t think you’d been doing anything wrong when you wandered out of his room that morning, only dressed in one of his large shirts, not bothering to put on any underwear because of how it fell long enough to keep you modest. you’d woken up alone in bed that morning to a text that he’d gone out on a quick grocery run, deciding to get yourself a cup of coffee to pep yourself up before he arrived home. though you hadn’t expected to see his roommate in the kitchen, you didn’t mind the extra company as you ran the coffee maker, making friendly conversation like you usually did.

it wasn’t often that you got to see jean, and you didn’t quite understand why eren could be so adamantly irritated at the man he shared an apartment with at certain times. he was polite, charming, a bit eclectic in his own right, but still someone you could see yourself being friends with if given the chance by your boyfriend. you had relaxed yourself, bending forward to rest your elbows on the counter and your head in your hands as you chatted, laughing at something you couldn’t quite recall when eren reentered the apartment.

you’d greeted him with your usual smile and a kiss on the cheek, leaning into him when he slid an arm around your waist to set his grocery bags on the counter.

“you should let me chat with your girlfriend more often, jaeger. she’s much nicer to be around than you are.” jean had snarked, nodding to address you directly, “you have more fun with me than you do with him, right?”

“definitely.” you replied, giggling, obviously not being serious but wanting to keep whatever joke he’d started going, “you always appreciate what i have to say, jean.”

“if you’re gonna talk like that behind my back, you can get your own fucking groceries next time.” eren muttered to his roommate across the kitchen island, the previous delight of seeing you having completed soured in a matter of seconds, hauling you along to his room and slamming the door shut before you could even get a word in.

“p-please eren— ‘m sorry— didn’t mean t-to..!” you begged, stifling a whimper as he sucked roughly at your neck, fingers squeezing at your breasts and pinching at your already too-sensitive nipples.

his shirt that he’d torn off of you as soon as he’d gotten you alone lay strewn across the floor before the bed, his jeans and belt not even entirely off of his legs before he’d pulled you down onto his cock, forcing your arms behind your back, ignoring your mewls and pleas to start moving, nails digging into your hips each time you tried to rock yourself down onto him.

“fucking slut, going out into the kitchen with no fucking underwear on,” he growled into your bruised skin, heavy breaths fanning across the wet flesh, “you think he could fuck you better than i could? is that what it is??”

“n-no, not that,” you arched into his skillful fingers, eyes screwing shut as you tried to focus on how each tug and pinch send another wave of heat rolling through your body, “nobody f-fills me up like you do..!”

he chuckled, humming against your shoulder, one large hand sliding down your torso to press down over your stomach. you shuddered, feeling how you ached at just the slight pressure of his fingers prodding your naval, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled so deeply inside you.

“no matter how many times i fuck you, you always feel so tight..” he murmured into your ear, arrogant grin evident in his voice, “you want me to fuck you, baby?” you nodded ardently. “then beg.”

swallowing the sliver of pride you clung to, you let out a small pant at his thumb rubbing tortuously slow circles over your clit, even as he still denied you any movement on his end. “p-please eren, i promise i’ll be better, i p-promise i won’t do it again—”

“louder.”

“b-but jean’s still—”

“i said louder.”

you could feel your face growing hot with impending shame, letting out muted whimpers as he returned to marking up your neck, not bothering to leave any place unscathed just for the sake of showing that you belonged to him. it wouldn’t be just jean that would hear you, but most likely any tenants in the adjacent apartments, people who’d most likely heard the two of you before.

“please eren, please let me c-cum.” you began again, louder, volume spiking when he bit at the skin just under your jaw.

“you squeeze so good around me every time you say ‘please’.” he said, rewarding you with a messy line of kisses across the fresh set of teeth prints he’d probably just left, “you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“yes.. i’m good, i’ll be good, i p-promise!” you could already feel that winding pressure in your stomach approaching a breaking point, just from the way he was rubbing over you, the stray thought of jean being able to hear how he was praising you sending a spark of heat up your spine.

“i haven’t even fucked you and you’re already gonna cum for me.” he stifled a groan when you clenched around him, the low sound overtaken by your own heavy breaths, feeling eternally grateful that he hadn’t stopped you when you began to rock yourself back into his cock, making it press just right over that spot that always made you feel as if you were bursting at the seams.

“don’t stop, don’t stop—f-fuck, don’t stop..!”

you were approaching that familiar peak, trembling under the power of his knowing touch, nearly whining as you finally came, picking up on his own moans from how your cunt squeezed around him. he let you ride out that momentary bliss, fingers pulling away to allow you to catch your breath. you could feel yourself dripping down onto the sheets below you and across his thighs, more than ready to receive what he’d made you beg for.

“you’re so good,” he murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, kissing at your cheek and jaw, “turn around for me.”

you slowly stood, shivering at the sudden emptiness that you felt without him buried deep inside of you, turning to face him and straddle his thighs. his cock was visibly hard, slick with your arousal and just begging to attending to. it was hard to not whimper as you sat yourself back down on him, hands firmly grasping his shoulder for stability, moans spilling from your parted lips as he began to guiding you up and down in his lap.

“hope you don’t have anything planned for the rest of today,” he breathed between kisses, brilliantly green eyes gazing at you through dark lashes, “‘m gonna make sure you can’t walk right, you’re gonna stay right here. with me..”

ok gn i love u all ♡(｡- ω -)

#eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren x you #eren smut #eren aot #snk x reader smut #snk x you #snk x reader #snk fanfiction

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lenaariewrld · 3 years

Text

6. do you like them

The door to Yachi’s apartment flew open before you even got to knock on it, your raised hand colliding with the blonde girl’s forehead as she hurried to greet you. Yachi rubbed the spot softly and ushered you inside. Your hand dropped and you quietly apologized, lightly kissing the top of her hair as you kicked off your shoes.

“Is Kiyoko here?” You asked, setting the shoes you had previously worn to the side. Yachi nodded, lightly taking your arm.

“She’s in the bathroom,” She informed you, leading you to the large room. A vanity took up a huge portion of one wall, a wide counter beneath it inlaid with one modest sink and topped with hundreds of different facial products.

Kiyoko was already in her clothes, her hair neatly pushed back as she fixed her makeup. She looked at you through the mirror, a small smile gracing her lips. She set her mascara wand down and turned to you, engulfing you in a long, firm hug. “I missed you,” She said, squeezing your middle lightly.

“I missed you too, babe,” You smiled, reciprocating the gesture. You both pulled away, mimicking air kisses on each cheek like always. “Could you do my makeup for me? You’re so good at it,” You stuck out your bottom lip for a small pout, silently pleading Kiyoko.

The woman agreed with a shrug of her shoulders, turning to Yachi to ask the blonde if she also wanted her makeup done by her. Yachi declined, admitting she could do her own looks. Kiyoko nodded, patting her head and moving her attention fully onto you and making you look as good as you wanted.

It took, admittedly, longer than the three of you had planned to get ready for, but you all looked bomb as hell. So worth it. "Tanaka says he's on his way," Kiyoko says, pulling her hair back as you and Yachi applied the finishing touches to your looks. You simply hum in acknowledgement, pulling out your phone and wiggling it. "Photoshoot while we wait?" You ask, earning smiles from the other girls.

By the time the whole group had arrived at the brunch, you all had taken multiple pictures of each other and made sure to get enough of the outfits to tweet them out. Tanaka parked his car nearby the cafe you had supplied the address for, letting everyone pile out. You immediately found Shoyo and strung your arm with his, walking in pace with the group.

Once you all were seated (and you had all taken even more pictures), you all finally settled into conversation. "So, how has it been living with roommates who are also content creators?" Sugawara asked you, resting his elbows on the table.

"It's a little new, but not much different than when you guys would stay over, or when I lived with you. I'm still not sure what kind of videos and stuff everyone makes, and I haven't spent much time alone with anyone in particular, so it's still kind of awkward to be one-on-one with any of the guys," You rambled a bit, fiddling with your hair nervously. Yachi lightly swatted your hand so you wouldn't ruin the style you had worked so hard on.

"Are you saying you miss us?" Nishinoya asked, leaning over the edge of the table to try and ruffle your hair. You obliged and leaned forward, laughing softly as Sugawara pulled him back into his seat.

"Of course... They don't even do movie nights or anything, they're so boring together," You pouted, looking around everyone. Hinata patted your back comfortingly.

"Good, that means you can't replace us," He declared.

"I wouldn't dream of it," You admitted, smiling. The both of you squinted at each other, suddenly deciding to do a staring contest until, once again, Sugawara reined you guys in. He shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Anyway. Kiyoko, how was your trip?" You asked, turning the topic onto your newly arrived friend. She smiled sweetly, simply informing the whole table of the runways she had participated in, and the designers she had worn.

You awed at how calmly she spoke about it. Fashion shows, runways, all that big world stuff was so common for her, but it awed almost everyone else in the group. Except for Yuu, probably, but you couldn't blame him.

“Hey, Hinata," You turned to the orange-haired male beside you, falling into your own small conversation as everyone else did. You noticed Tanaka and Kiyoko chatting absently, a knowing smile on your lips. You honestly didn't understand why they weren't already dating, considering how much they liked to talk to each other. Before you could forget what you wanted to ask your friend, you looked away from the two. "Have you been talking to Kageyama?" You asked.

"Yeah," Shoyo smiled brightly, twisting his cup in his hand absently. "We don't talk often, he's so dry..." He trails off to pull a face, like he was in agony at the thought of the dark-haired male's texting habits. "But he's not bad to talk to, and we like reminiscing about different stuff from high school," The boy informs you.

"That sounds like him..." You smiled fondly, bringing your straw to your lips to sip your tea. Hinata stares at you for a moment.

"Do you like any of them?" He asks, making you choke on the liquid in your throat. Your cheeks burn as you hit your hand against your chest, coughing up your lung and probably multiple other organs in an attempt to calm yourself. He simply laughs at your reaction, waving away the concern of your other friends. "Well? Is that a yes?" He pressed again.

"No!" You defended, your whole face practically a tomato now. Shoyo only hums, not believing you at all. Damn him for knowing you so well, he shouldn't be your best friend, the little shit.

"Okay, well, I'll make sure to send a... care package, just in case," He says, flashing another bright smile, though this one has sort of mischievous undertones.

"Tanaka and Yuu already gave me pepper spray and a self defense kit," You said, shrugging. "And handcuffs!" Tanaka chimed in upon hearing his name. You nod and look pointedly at Shoyo, as if to say 'see? i'm covered!'

"I meant for if you pursue something with any of them, numbskull," Hinata said, looking away from you to take along drink from his cup. You stick your tongue out at him playfully, shaking your head and instead engaging Tanaka with your attention. The rest of the brunch is mostly uneventful, the conversation easily picking up whenever it was stopped by arriving food or drinks. After you've all had your share and split the bill accordingly (excluding Kiyoko), the group shuffles out of the building.

“Let's go shopping!" Yachi suggests with a clap of her hands, looking at the skeptical faces of the others. "It will be fun, and we can walk off the food we ate!" She added, you took her arm, happily agreeing to her plan along with Kiyoko. After a few more minutes of convincing, the guys agreed to join you three, and the whole group set off for the shopping district nearby.

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funfacts::

kuroo and y/n both take turns being ‘simps’ for each other,, mostly it’s kuroo tho

kenma almost freaked out when kuroo considered cancelling the sushi, bc he has an addiction and is finally able to enable it

hinata monitors y/n’s posts to see which Pretty Boy comments the most and goes Protective Brother Mode if they say anything out of pocket

y/n cannot read maps so she had to ask someone nearby to tell her the address

taglist: @odxrilove @pogpixelz @toshiswifey @thechaosoflonging @anime-meme-sanctuary @chaseyui @lucyrocks86 @mirikusashes @bolinhodadestruicao

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq smau #haikyū!!#haikyuu smau #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou

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silent-scythe · 4 years

Text

Mine

More Nessian fanfic bc I’m Nessian trash :) It’s unedited so there are probably mistakes here and there, my apologies for that. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: In which Nesta gets a little protective.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: mild cursing

༺༻

Nesta twirled the glass in her hand, the dark wine swirling with the motion. She sat with her legs crossed, chin high, like Amren had taught her. She looked like that of an ancient and powerful queen holding court, despite sitting on a stool in the middle of a bar. Her storm like eyes swept over the room, calculating and pure ice.

Her lips, which sat in a firm, fierce line, and her hair, done in a braided bun- although no longer hiding the tips of her ears- gave her the image of pure regality.

Her silver gown, which brought out the blue flecks in her thunderstorm-eyes, shimmered and shifted with every one of her elegant movements. It fit tightly, with a somewhat modest neckline and a plunging back, revealing a stretch of smooth skin and lithe muscle. A sash of darker gray adorned her waist, and underneath, the silver fabric spilled out into a long skirt that touched the floor, gliding behind her when she walked. It fit her, hugging her curves mimicking her motions whenever she moved. The gray-toned gown itself wasn’t sparkly- unless you counted the shimmering fabric- although her jewelry definitely was.

On her slender wrist was a small silver bracelet, and in her hair were pins, the end encrusted in crystalline jewels. Most eye-catching, however, was the ruby she wore on her neck, the gem resting just above her collarbones. It wasn’t large, like the jewels Amren favored, but it wasn’t small either. It was the color of fresh blood, deep red like someone’s siphons.

And it sure did attract attention. Five years ago, she would have cowered and shivered, would’ve never worn something like this, would’ve stayed home and wrecked herself beyond recognition. But now, she did not shy away from all the gazes; relished it, even.

Witch, kingslayer, demon, queen, death, whore, whatever they called her, she didn’t care.

Nesta Archeron only had eyes for one particular person, who happened to be standing in the middle of the dance floor.

Cassian had worn a suit tonight, contrasting heavily with the Illyrian leathers or casual clothes he usually wore. He instead wore a white undershirt, which was slightly rumpled and definitely not buttoned at the top, with a black suit over it. His hair was combed for once, the top half in a messy bun, a few strands falling out and framing his face.

“That bastard looks put together for once,” Amren said from besides her.

Amren, with her cunning silver eyes and intimidating aura, had scared off everyone around them. She wore a black top and similar pants, both made out of that billowing fabric she preferred. On her were necklaces and bracelets of all kinds, all golden, adorned with jewels of all colors. How she managed to make them match so well was beyond Nesta.

Nesta raised her glass to her lips, taking a sip, before turning to Amren. The two had become close friends again, repairing that void in their relationship three years ago, and becoming the best of friends once more. Together, they had the most pleasurable time terrorizing males.

“Give Rhys the credit. Rhys was the one who picked it out for him,” Nesta replied with a smile.

Her relationship with the High Lord was… professional. Being his emissary, they were definitely at least on speaking terms. Both had apologized, and although they were still wary of each other, their relationship was definitely warming up.

Amren snorted, putting her glass down onto the countertop. “Of course Rhys did. Give the dog a literal instruction manual and he still would have no fashion sense.”

Despite Cassian and Amren’s constant bickering and insulting, they were still close, that was for sure. Amren would kill anyone who truly insulted Cassian, although she’d probably have a good laugh first.

Amren, whose glass was refilled with something that still looked a bit too similar to blood, tilted her head to the side, some of her black hair falling across her face with the motion. It made her look no less scary. She angled her glass towards that direction as well. Nesta followed her movement with her eyes, looking towards where she pointed- towards Cassian.

“He seems to be enjoying his time now, isn’t he?” Amren teased, a giant smirk on her face.

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. A female had approached Cassian; they were talking, and the strange female was much too close for Nesta’s liking. She had even reached out a hand to rest on Cassian’s arm.

She got up off the stool with a sudden moment, somehow still graceful. Her dress, like liquid metal, swished as she got up. She put her own glass down onto the table, aware of Amren’s catlike smirk.

“Have fun, girl,” Amren purred.

Nesta, who seemed to glide across the floor, the slit on the sides of her dress revealing inches of her skin with each step, reached Cassian in no time. The woman- no, Fae female, who was next to Cassian seemed insignificant in Nesta’s presence.

Nesta couldn’t blame her. She held herself with an intimidating posture that at times seemed even more majestic than Rhys.

The female, who turned towards Nesta, wore a sky blue dress, the bright kind that Nesta hated.

Nesta came to a stop before her. She met the female’s eyes with an unwaveringly cold gaze, then trailed her eyes down, and back up, eyebrows raising, before turning towards Cassian.

Assessed. Assessed and dismissed.

“Cassian,” she greeted. “Did I disrupt anything?” her eyes flashed. “My sincerest apologies if I did.”

Cassian only arched one eyebrow, head tilted, giving her a lazy, slow grin that set her aflame. His hazel eyes, turned amber in the dark lighting, glowed, only further lighting that fire in her. Then he winked, and Nesta would be damned if she didn’t admit it was hot.

Nesta’s eyes fluttered, trying hard to fight the blush rising in her cheeks.

Cassian dipped his head. “No, I don’t think you did,” he replied smoothly. He put his hand on top of the female’s- she still had her hand on his arm.

Then, deliberately slowly, he removed it.

Nesta clenched her fists, power surging, raging, begging to be unleashed.

Cassian only turned his gaze to hers once more, eyes catching hers for a moment before he turned back to the female in the dress that was extremely ugly in Nesta’s opinion.

“It looks like our conversation must come to an end now,” Cassian said to her. “My mate here is… I think perhaps she wants something.”

When the female didn’t step away, Nesta turned her scalding gaze onto her, her glare sharper than a dagger. At last, Nesta smelt the fear on her as she turned, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment she disappeared, Nesta turned back towards Cassian and slapped his arm.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “What the hell was that for?”

“For that.”

Cassian faked confusion. “For what?”

“For that!” Nesta seethed. “You asshole.”

Cassian’s only reply was to take Nesta’s hand, gripping it gently, twirling her into his embrace. He let his hand drop from hers, and his other hand snaked around to her waist. She let out the smallest gasp at the action before slapping him once more.

“Again, sweetheart?” he asked. “I didn’t know you were such a sadist.”

“A sadist?” Nesta shot back, incredulous. “That didn’t even hurt, you sensitive little bat.”

Cassian pouted, and Nesta swore it made him even more handsome.

Nesta reached one hand up towards his face, tracing his lips. “You’re mine.”

She let her fingers slide over to the left, and Cassian complied, turning his face. She smirked, her fingers trailing his jawline, down to his chin.

“You’re mine,” she repeated, hand falling.

Cassian caught it, his fingers closing around her wrist, a sinful smile spreading.

Prove it.

Nesta didn’t hesitate, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss.

Cassian’s lips slanted across Nesta’s, the two of them lost in their own world as they devoured each other. Cassian bit down on her lower lip and she nearly yelped out of surprise before nipping him back.

After minutes, they parted, both heaving for breath.

Nesta’s eyes gleamed in victory. “Mine.”

༺༻

Please comment if you liked it! Your comments literally make me so happy haha <3

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #amren #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #story #short story #rhysand

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krewbies · 4 years

Note

I'm so glad to see Bolin fics bc your girl has had a crush on him for awhile. Can you write something where Bolin proposes? Timeline wise, sometime after saving the city in book 4? 👉👈

awww i love this :( i hope you enjoy!!!

••••••

The last month had been absolutely insane. You and Bolin had both been busy- the Earth Kingdom was pulling itself together again, Republic City was still recuperating from Kuvira’s attack, but there was still a sense of peace. For now, everything had been resolved.

Bolin. Boy, was he thankful for you. You had supported him, rooted for him, since the days when the two of you had just been two clueless teenagers in a big city. Sure, you gave him a hard time about unknowingly working under a fascist regime, but that was quickly forgiven after he helped save the Beifongs. And, sure, sometimes you could be overbearing, you didn’t want him to hurt himself after all!

It was so daunting for him, standing in a flashy jewelry store. He had grown up poor after all, he was used to just scraping by with Mako. But Mako wasn’t there, and neither were you, but the memory of a wedding- Varrick and Zhu Li’s- was fresh in his mind.

It was standing there, seeing you in the crowd, sitting with his brother and closest friends, glossy eyed and awe stricken, that he realized how ready he was to let you know just how much he appreciated and adored you.

The ring he picked was small and modest. Big and expensive wasn’t exactly something that either of you enjoyed. Your relationship had always been surrounded by chaos and dramatics and other people’s conflicts, and deep down, you both just wanted simple after all these years. You weren’t teenagers anymore, and there were no more wars to be fought, and there was finally room for peace.

“It’s so pretty.” You sighed, glancing up at the evening sky. Bolin turned his head to admire you, his eyes following the curve of your nose and examining the color of your eyes as if he hadn’t already memorized his favorite color a thousand times.

“Well, I think you’re a lot prettier.” His voice cracked. That always happened when he was nervous. And he was wringing his hands. You decided not to ask. Instead, you laughed, trying to ease whatever was running through his mind. He wasn’t one to hide anything he was feeling, so he’d tell you when he was ready to.

“Y’know, it’s so weird that we met here- wow, it’s been 5 or 6 years now.” You swung your legs and ran your hands over the wood of the bench. It was nostalgic, and reminded you of when things were simple, and you reached out to take his hand.

Now or never. Now or never. His hands were oddly sweaty too. Huh. He stood up abruptly, back turned to you, leg shaking slightly.

“Um, okay, so, I’m, uh, usually good at talking, but I’m not right now because I love you so much and I don’t want this to end badly, I feel like you feel the same way but I’m not sure and-”

“Bo!” You stopped him in the middle of his speech, turning his body around and taking his face in your hands. He glanced at you as you stroked his cheeks, taking a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” You continued after a few long seconds of silence. He looked down at the ground and hesitantly opened his mouth again.

“(Y/N), I just... I love you so much. And, and all of the stuff that’s happened in the last few years has made me realize how lost I would be without you. You laugh at all my jokes, and you’re always there whether things are going good for me or not, you always make sure I’m okay,” He took a deep breath and shot you a sweet smile, and reached a hand up to twist the piece of hair on his forehead. “And Mako likes you! That’s so great! I’m saying so much, I don’t even know where I’m going. At... At the end of the day I just want you to be safe and happy, and I want me to be happy too, and I would be happiest if,” He slowly knelt down, taking one of your hands in his, and proudly showing you what he had picked out. “If you would just be mine forever?”

Your heart raced. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. You wanted to cry. You had never entertained the thought of him asking you; it had always felt too good to be true. That he was so perfect, and he only wanted you. A million thoughts ran through your head, but one was louder than the others, and it helped you utter a simple response.

“Of course.” You stared at each other for a moment, hearts racing and the cool night air surrounding you. Finally, finally, a smile sprung on his face as he picked himself up, placing both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Really?” You stopped yourself from giggling at his shocked expression,

“I’d be an idiot to not want to spend the rest of my life with you.” You replied, tears threatening to spill. He engulfed you in one of the best hugs you’ve ever had, warming you up inside and out. This was it. This is what all of that was for.

He kissed you softly after he pulled away. “Wait! We have to go tell everyone!” He was so giddy, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet, shaking you. “This is so exciting. I get to marry you.” Every reservation you had ever held in your life was gone, and they were replaced by the knowledge that he would be yours and you would be his.

i hope you enjoyed!!!! i just wanted to say, thank you guys so much. I made this blog thinking it would just be a fun past time but you are all so kind, my inbox has been flooded with the kindest things, i spent like an hour crying over it earlier. i’m sorry its been a few days since i last put something out, ive just been insanely busy and ive been jumping between writing things because i have a ton of requests. i just wanna give you all a hug! i feel like i hit 100 followers overnight and now i’m at around 140, its surreal. thank you. ps, this can perhaps be read as a sequel to the hcs i did about the airbender? but its up to u ;)

#bolin x reader #krewbies writes #bolin #lok x reader #lok imagine

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

A Dragon’s Fire - Daenerys x Red Priestess!Reader

heyo! this was requested by an anon who originally wanted an assassin w fire magic, and i compromised w a red priestess who was an assassin but decided not to hurt dany (bc that seems neat!) but ive been in the shit this week so ... i wrote something fluffy instead. I know, im a big fail, lol. I hope yall enjoy it anyway

Summary: Dany has a big gay crush. That’s it, that’s the fic

“Is she everything you hoped for?”

Y/N did not answer the man behind her. She focused on the flames in front of her, dancing in the brazier into familiar shapes. She had seen them for many years. It’s why she was chosen by the priests, and since the red comet fell from the sky, they whispered if she listened close. Here, in the dragon queen’s palace, she could hear the fire inside the dragons.

The bear knight’s metal armor and annoyed tone was not enough to distract her. Y/N reached her hand into the fire, it shaped into a dragon that sat in her palm. She didn’t feel the fire, but her red silk sleeve was burning.

Jorah disliked her silence, but he disliked many things about Y/N. When he first saw her fire tricks, he thought they were illusions, but the heat of them said otherwise. Then there was the first time she set upon Drogon…

He suppressed his shiver and set that memory aside. “The khaleesi wants to see you.”

Y/N closed her palm, and the dragon slivered out, flying back into the brazier. The flames glowed blue for just a fraction of a second. She waved her hand over them, and the fire smothered itself. Smoke rose out of the hot coals, but those too began to rapidly cool.

She wondered if the knight was still unsettled by her magic. Even the khaleesi had moments of awe and uneasiness, although she was fond of watching. Y/N stood, her silk robes gently scraping the marble floor. Jorah was already walking away, and she made no effort to run to catch up to him. She knew where Daenerys was.

The chambers Daenerys set aside for her council was well-lit and had an impressive, engraved table at the center of it. Its legs used to be harpies made of carved marble and ivory, but she had them removed for dragons made of onyx and rubies. Y/N liked the change, and how they glittered in the light. Perhaps she was biased - her own ruby hung around her neck, although it was far larger and smoother than any gemstone Daenerys had seen before.

The girl’s purple eyes lit up as Y/N entered the room. Y/N couldn’t help but return the sentiment, giving her khaleesi a smile. She was pleased there was no one else in the council room. “You wished to see me, khaleesi?”

“Yes. Jorah, you may leave us.”

Jorah didn’t protest, but he did shoot Y/N a look before he left the room and closed the doors. Y/N noticed there were no Unsullied in the chambers, either.

“I talked to him about what he said the other day,” Daenerys said after a moment of silence. “Ser Barristan, as well. They don’t … In the Seven Kingdoms, your sort of magic is seen as a dream. Unreal.”

“As unreal as dragons?” Y/N tilted her head, and Daenerys tried not to focus on how her hair slid across her bare shoulders. When Y/N first entered her service, she wore modest robes that covered nearly every inch of her. Since then she had adopted a more elegant, free style, at Daenerys’ subtle suggestion. She was pleased with the result.

Daenerys set her thoughts straight. “True. The reason I called you here was to locate Rhaegal. I haven’t seen him flying overhead in some time.”

“Nor have I.” Y/N touched the ruby that dangled by her collarbone. It was held with a simple gold chain, and anyone could have missed the way it seemed to flicker. It could have been a trick of the light, but Dany knew otherwise. “Would you like me to find him?”

Of course Y/N knew how to do that. She knew how to start and stop fire, how to dream about it, how to see into it. It was only logic that she could find it. She once told Daenerys that the dragons were beings of fire, swirling and living heat. She looked at them like …

… Well, not how others looked at them. It was hard to puzzle out Y/N’s expressions and thoughts. You could ask her something directly, and she’d have some sort of strange answer, or she’d just stay quiet. Daenerys could tell when Y/N was thinking something over, at least. Her pretty eyes would lower, and she’d touch that ruby - was it hot to the touch? It seemed like it - and she would be gone. Sometimes she stayed very still for hours, staring into fire, or staring into nothing.

But she’d always have an answer eventually.

Daenerys’ knights warned against Y/N’s counsel, telling her not to listen too closely to the words of a strange woman of a strange religion. Even Missandei had commented on the followers of Rhllor’s intent to convert King Robert and other places, and the strange magics they could possess. They warned her as if she did not know how to think for herself.

It upset her, but Y/N took such words in stride. She often seemed to know what others thought and said about her, and she did little to stop it. Missandei had warmed to her, Ser Barristan did not think she was any real threat, but Ser Jorah remained unconvinced and wary. Grey Worm did not like talk of magic or priests, but he had no real ill thought of Y/N, and Daario liked to ask her all sorts of ridiculous questions for his own amusement.

“I have found him, khaleesi.”

Daenerys couldn’t believe her thoughts had drifted again. Y/N often had that effect on her. “Where? Can we ride to him?”

“We could. He is in no danger, he is simply occupied with…” A soft smile came to Y/N’s red lips. “Something he has not seen before. That’s why he’s been away.”

“What could possibly interest him for that long? He’s been gone for days.”

“Shall we find out, your grace?”

Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah would warm her against this, ask her to take one of them or the Unsullied on the trip. Grey Worm would ask to escort them, Missandei would worry and send guards after them anyway. Daario would want to come along. Daenerys looked to the open, blue sky. There was still plenty of sun left.

“Let’s be quick,” She said, already giddy even if they hadn’t stepped a foot outside of the palace yet. “Missandei will keep them busy. Do you want to share my horse?”

Y/N was not an adept rider, but she still said, “That is alright, khaleesi. I can ride my own.”

Daenerys tried not to feel disappointed.

The danger outside the protective walls of Meereen was real, but Daenerys comforted herself with the fact that Drogon and Viserion often flew about these hills, and no one had seen them leave. Y/N said it would not take long, that they’d return toward the end of sunset.

Why do I keep believing her? Daenerys asked herself. She glanced aside, watching the woman reposition her reins. Her normally serene facade was broken everytime she rode a horse. She was not afraid of the creatures, but she had only recently learned to ride, and the beasts weren’t always fond of her.

“If you keep moving like that, you’ll make him nervous,” Daenerys said. “There’s no need to clutch the reins so tightly, either.”

Y/N nodded, and tried to relax her posture. Luckily, she picked an agreeable horse. Daenerys recalled the saddle sores and aches she received when she learned to ride. Her handmaidens gave her a balm to ease the pain. Maybe she could find that for Y/N.

I’ll ask someone to deliver it to her. I couldn’t give it to her myself - no, who says I can’t? But what would she think…

It was hard to tell exactly what Y/N was thinking, but sometimes she slipped, like now. Her brows were slightly furrowed as she righted her posture, and once she was satisfied with it, she kept glancing down at the ground, or at the horse’s ears. Y/N pet his soft neck, then slowly reached up to scratch between his ears. She jerked her hand back as her horse shook his head and made an annoyed sound.

“He didn’t like that,” Daenerys laughed, and it was adorable how Y/N gently laughed, too. She was usually so subdued, so quiet, so … what Daenerys used to be.

“But his ears are so cute,” Y/N went back to petting his neck, which he much preferred. “Doesn’t it make you think of a cat.”

“No, not at all.”

“Not even a little? There were some strays I’d feed at the temple. Their ears would twitch when I came by. They could smell the food in my pockets.”

Sometimes Y/N would speak of the temple she grew up in, or the other Free Cities she had travelled to, the friends she had known. Perhaps if she showed this side to the others, they would trust her more, but Daenerys was happy to have it to herself.

The grass thinned and made way for rocky hills and in the distance, orange and yellow canyons. The sun was beginning its descent, and soon the sky would match those oranges and yellows. Y/N stopped her horse.

“We can walk from here. Do you hear him?”

Daenerys stopped her own horse and listened. There was the slightest breeze, some distant bird calling, the sound of her horse’s nicker and …

She shook her head. “If he’s close, we would have heard him by now.”

Y/N dismounted with some inelegance, but she fixed her clothes and just smiled. “Maybe you will when we get closer.”

They tied the horses to one of the few trees in the dry area, and Daenerys followed Y/N’s lead.

It could be a trap. She could have men waiting there, or there could have been someone following us …

The thought was fleeting, and Daenerys fell in beside her. They both changed to more practical clothing, but Y/N still had a shimmering red cloak tied around her shoulders. As they walked, Daenerys began to hear something strange. It was faint, but as they came closer…

“Water?” She looked at Y/N.

Y/N’s sweet lips curled upward. She often smelled of smoke and spice, and Daenerys wondered if she tasted that way, too.

They came to the edge of a small canyon, which could be better described as a deep ravine. Water glistened at the bottom of it, and more importantly, the deep green scales of her dear Rhaegal. He lifted his wings high and water spilled on his back.

“What is he doing?” Daenerys asked, but she was answered just a moment later. Water spewed up from the ground in a huge geyser, all at once, and Rhaegal happily opened his mouth and snapped at it. The water fell in thick droplets all around the dragon, the ravine and the two of them.

Y/N pulled her red hood over her head. Daenerys wiped her brow. “You didn’t tell me to pack a hood.”

“Apologies, khaleesi.” Y/N giggled. She peered downward. “If we’re steady, we can walk down to him.”

Rhaegal’s long tail lazily swung back and forth in the water. He was resting, and it only submerged his arms and legs, but he was content. Daenerys noticed all the charred bones scattered around the ravine. She wondered how much was in the water. Her feet found stability, and she carefully followed a natural, steadying path downward. Y/N was just ahead, although she wasn’t as confident in her descent.

They came to a small landing and had to stop there. The rest of the way was simply too steep. Rhaegal seemed to just notice them then, and Daenerys’ heart swelled as her child lifted his head and gazed at her with his sharp eyes. They weren’t merely brown, but bronze, with all the steadiness and strength that metal held. She touched his nose and muzzle, marvelling at how much he had grown.

His eyes quickly flashed toward Y/N, and Daenerys felt his growl vibrate underneath her hand. She frowned and quickly said, “No.”

She remembered Y/N’s first encounter with Drogon. That was also the day she had taken the strange, beautiful priestess into her court.

Just like with Drogon, Y/N showed no fear. She stepped forward, but she didn’t make an attempt to touch the dragon. She lowered her hood, and Rhaegal’s long, black pupil tightened.

Daenerys felt the heat of his breath as he snorted through his nose. She tensed, forcing herself to stay calm as she repeated her order. “No.”

The geyser blew again, and Daenerys didn’t flinch. Rhaegal watched it rise in the air, then pulled away from his mother to open his jaws at the water again. His black teeth glittered in the setting sun.

Daenerys looked to Y/N. The priestess was so calm and steady, so unaffected … except Dany caught how her shoulders sagged in relief.

“He isn’t like Drogon,” Daenerys said, remembering that day. “He wouldn’t have hurt you.”

Y/N replied simply. “Drogon did not hurt me.”

Had you been any other woman, he would have killed you. Except ...

It took days for the servants to remove the char marks on the marble, and some of the melted pillars were still being repaired. Daenerys was half tempted to leave them like that, as a warning to any potential enemies, but it was unsettling to think it may have been Y/N that was burned away.

Except, she didn’t. Her red robes and long hair did, but her necklace and body remained unharmed. Daenerys and her court watched as the fire arced around her, singing away everything but skin and metal, and that ruby she never removed. Y/N looked Drogon straight in the eyes, even as they were obscured by his fire.

His temper always was the worst. She had done nothing but approach Daenerys too quickly. Jorah was the one who pulled her back behind one of the pillars, and Daenerys remembered how the heat licked her arms as it tried to reach around the marble. Daario had pulled Missandei to cover behind the other pillar.

Drogon almost never came to the palace, he always wanted to be in the sky, yet he came down on that day. And when the fire cleared and the floor was charred black except for a small circle … He stood back, and Y/N still looked at him. She only trembled slightly.

She isn’t any other woman.

The geyser blew again, and rained down upon them. The water’s heat didn’t bother her, but all the dust from the ride was stuck to her skin, and the water didn’t clean it off. She had dust in her hair, too, and probably some stray pieces of grass.

She smiled. It had been some time since she was properly dirty after a ride, and she looked forward to a perfumed bath and brushing her hair when she got back. Daenerys glanced to Y/N, who was occupied with watching Rhaegal. She also had dirt on her cheeks and neck, and some in her hair, and maybe if she wanted a bath afterward, too…

Daenerys reached forward and tried to rub some of the dirt off her cheeks. It didn’t work, but Y/N’s pretty eyes went wide. She didn’t pull away. “Khaleesi?”

Daenerys stepped forward, gently moving her palm so she had Y/N’s whole cheek. Just as she thought - as she dreamed? - the priestess’ skin was flushed and warmer than anyone she’d touched before.

“You can say my name,” Daenerys said. She tried to tease, but her beating heart and their closeness made her breath catch. She thought Y/N was wearing color on her lips, but perhaps they just always looked like that?

“Daenerys.” Y/N tried it out, and the dragon queen felt like a girl again, feeling her heart soar at hearing her name on those lips. She leaned in, bringing Y/N closer to her. Their foreheads brushed, and the warmth between them turned to heat.

A piercing roar broke through the sky, and cut straight between them. Daenerys recognized the sound at once, and it distracted her as Y/N jumped away. The woman’s cheeks were as red as her cloak.

Above them, Viserion broke through the clouds and bellowed down at his brother. The first cry was for Daenerys, and the second was probably a command for Rhaegal to move aside. The green dragon made room for his brother, and the water reached the top of the ravine as Viserion splashed straight into it. Y/N pulled Daenerys back before the muddy water could splash all over them.

Daenerys was far too overheated and flustered, and the sight of her children amusing themselves only gave her a little relief. At least Rhaegal was alright.

Y/N had pulled her hood back down, and it was a shame. At least her lips were still visible through the shadow, although looking wasn’t as good as tasting.

“We’ve been gone for a long time. Let’s ride back.” Daenerys led the way out of the ravine. Y/N said nothing until they were back to the horses, who were understandably spooked from the dragon that flew overhead not fifteen minutes ago. Y/N held her horse’s reins and tried to soothe it, and Daenerys helped, touching the priestess’ hands perhaps more than was needed.

Y/N didn’t pull away, and that gave Daenerys the courage to kiss her cheek. The soft dyed linen brushed her own cheek, and she caught a whiff of perfume.

The priestess giggled, and it was a better relief than the breeze that was slowly blowing across the hills. “Please, Daenerys. I’m covered in dust.”

“I am, too. Let’s wash up when we ride back - together?”

She caught Y/N’s bright eyes under the hood, and they sparkled as she blushed and tugged the hood further down. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

So it was decided. By the time they reached the gates of Meereen and entered the Great Pyramid, Y/N had dropped her hood and her easy, serene face had returned. She disregarded the suspicious looks, she gave an easy nod to Missandei, who returned a tentative smile. As far as anyone knew, Y/N’s mind was wrapped in her usual visions and prayers.

Until Daenerys brushed her dirty hair aside and smiled at her, then Y/N’s cheeks blushed and her eyes widened in that adorable way. She let the khaleesi take her hand, entwine their fingers, and guide her to the great baths. Y/N’s red cloak fluttered behind her, drawing attention to them. Some Unsullied guards probably saw, and surely others, but Daenerys didn’t care.

She’s like fire, and I am a dragon - how could she bring any harm to me?

#Daenerys Targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #libra fics

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sukiglycerin · 4 years

Text

first love & letter (ラブレター)

* pairing: izuku midoriya x reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, oh god

* words: 1,543

* warnings: reader constantly daydreams,.,. yeah

* original request: this is my first time requesting something here…idk if i’m doing it right..but anyways a izukuxreader where reader is trying to muster up the courage to give izuku a love letter only to lose it at school and izuku ends up being the one who finds it ? please and thank u

* a/n: here it is!! nonnie, i hope you like it! i feel special bc this is your first request >< thank you for entrusting it to me! also, what is it with me and using seventeen for izuku fic titles….?

“izuku.” you would say his name like a song, a pretty bird’s melody. “this is for you.” the words would fall like sugary cherry syrup from your lips, warm and sweet and twinkling. like sugar, he’d melt; a cherry-tinge on his cheeks and a stutter on his tongue. simply put, it’d be because he’s secret harboured a crush on you for years now and planned to confess to you, too, at this exact moment. or was that too cliche?

he would accept the letter, a question on his lips but only you on his mind. he would look from you to the letter with those sparkling emerald eyes as he read his name in your script on the envelope, and maybe he’d connect the dots in his head.

no, no, no, he wouldn’t - he’d open the letter first, and you’d feel your face flush watching his scarred fingers hold the paper so delicately. you’d watch his face get pinker and pinker and see his lips part in surprise. you imagine what he’d say - a plain “i like you too”? or just your name, a lovely tune when on his tongue? you know what it’d feel like, though, when he’d finally say the words back. you’d read about it too many times - the hitch in his breath, the crescent moon curve to his eyes.

the world would disappear until it was only you and izuku. you’d only see him, your heart aflutter under his gaze that’s only meant for you. you would step forward toward him hesitantly, only to realize that it just felt right. he’d step forward too and you would be so close to him and your senses would cloud in a mess of adrenaline and euphoria until-

“you seem distracted, y/n-chan,” tsuyu commented as the two of you walked down the hallway.

“ah… do i…?” you sheepishly looked away. “just… thinking. that’s all, tsu.”

“is it about midoriya?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

midoriya. it was the name that had you in a tizzy, surrounded by dreamy clouds in a castle in the sky. he was the boy you’d liked for years now; midoriya izuku, the plain, kind boy that held your heart in his roughed up hands unknowingly.

“i- what- who said anything about izuku?” you laughed nervously, feeling your cheeks get warm. “izuku?? what- what makes you think it’s about him??” you’d only ever told yaoyorozu about him in a bout of embarrassment.

“you always look at him and talk to him, ribbit,” tsuyu said bluntly.

“do i…?” you twiddled with your fingers, debating what to say. you settled on the truth. “yeah, i was thinking about him,” you admitted quietly.

“ribbit, you fit him well.”

“you think?” you looked at her hopefully, walking into the classroom. “actually, i was planning to-” you caught izuku’s eye on the other side of the classroom and quickly looked away. “i should sit down, now,” you said to tsuyu.

“good luck with your plan, ribbit,” she smiled.

so far, your plan was going smoothly. you took a deep breath as you walked to your seat behind midoriya’s and channeled your inner shoujo manga protagonist.

“good morning, izuku!” you said cheerily, smiling at him.

“morning, y/n!” he smiled back.

you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. all you needed to do now was give him the letter. you rummaged through your backpack for the envelope, but turned up empty. where could it be…? you panicked. you swore you put it in your backpack this morning, but it was gone. the chime of the school bell filled your ears and a very sleepy aizawa slugged into the room. you decided to drop the matter for now and look for the letter later.

your brain found the aizawa’s droning to be very good white noise for your daydreaming. slowly it faded out, and you found yourself in a new izuku-centered daydream.

your daydreams were lived through a rose-colored glass, through alluring words and fortune on every corner. you could live vibrantly and thoroughly in your mind, where you were safe. the real world was nothing like the utopia you’d created; in your imagination, you could predict the right move and you could curate your experience. the real world was not so merciful.

while the thought of your lost letter nagged the back of your head, you weren’t too worried about it. you figured you must’ve left it at home. your mind was more set on thoughts of izuku.

rationally, you knew your confession to izuku would be clumsy, all mumbles and shifting of feet. you consoled yourself in daydreams.

truth be told, you tried to give izuku the love letter months ago with some chocolates you’d made for valentine’s day. you couldn’t even give izuku the chocolates directly; you left him to wonder who’d left the prettily-wrapped homemade chocolates on his desk. you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him directly, either. speaking was never your real strong suit. you took comfort in writing. that’s why yaoyorozu had suggested a letter confessing your feelings instead. though, rather than leave it on his desk, you had wanted to give it to him personally. it was much easier said than done. every time you’d almost gathered up the nerve to give it to him, there was an interference of some sort. you could never find the perfect time to give him the note.

now, you mused miserably, you wouldn’t get the time to give it to him. by the end of the day, you were unable to find the letter. the bell signalling the end of the day chimed and you groaned softly to yourself, burying your head in your arms on your desk. why couldn’t anything go right? why couldn’t you be the protagonist in your own shoujo manga? if only life was like your daydreams, like the romance novels you’d been enraptured.

take away the rosy glass and you were left here, alone and unable to even confess to the boy you’ve liked for years.

“uh, y/n?” a shaky voice asked. you didn’t bother looking up, too busy with your own problems.

“what,” you moaned flatly.

“did you-?”

you looked up at the speaker, eyes widening at the sight of a befuddled izuku midoriya holding an envelope and letter.

“where,” you exhaled shakily, “did you find that?”

“it was on the ground, near the door,” he said. “did you-”

your cheeks felt warm - on fire. you could barely look up at him, much less look him in the eye. this was not how you planned it. you were frozen in place, eyes fixed on your desk.

“did you write this?” he asked. his voice was not accusatory nor condescending; it was polite with what you thought was a twinge of astonishment. of course, izuku was always modest and humble. you felt your confidence slowly draining from your body as thoughts rushed through your head. of course he was surprised; there was no way he actually thought of you like that. you were unfrozen by the trembling of your hands and you slowly forced yourself to look up.

when you met izuku’s eyes, they were nothing like you’d imagined. they were effervescent yet cavernous in some sense of the word. they were not exactly sparkling or scintillating, but earnest and steadily reaching into your eyes. you mused that it was better than the face-value happiness you’d expected from him. this was the izuku you fell for, empathetic and compassionate. his kindness never ceased to amaze you.

by now it was probably a tad bit awkward. you stared at him for an eternal second, forgetting of his question that hung in the air.

“oh, yeah,” you cleared your throat and attempted to calm your trembling hands. you tried to embody being calm, cool, and collected - but it hadn’t translated so well into your body language. “yes. uh, yes, i…. i did write it.”

“really?” he looked at you excitedly, eyes glimmering with hope.

“yeah,” you said bashfully, warming with embarrassment. “i’ve liked you for… well, a long time.”

“you- you did?” it was his turn to get embarrassed. “ah… so have i…” he put his hand on the back of his neck.

“…oh, you did…?” you’d always assumed he had no interest in you; you got no sign he felt otherwise. he accepted everyone’s chocolates on valentine’s day (including all of the pretty, homemade ones from girls that fancied him, which was slightly discouraging but completely made sense considering izuku’s kind nature).

the conversation dipped into silence as you stared at each other.

“your handwriting is really pretty,” izuku confessed.

“you- you think? thank you…” you pursed your lips, wishing you could take compliments better. “do you-“

“do you-”

you cracked a grin. “you first.”

“do you,” he coughed awkwardly, “wanna walk home together?” pink dusted his cheeks like sakura denbu (not really the best simile, but it was the first thing that came to mind when thinking of something that matched the rosy hue).

“i was about to ask the same thing,” you replied.

for the first time, you felt reality wasn’t so dull after all. maybe it was time to toss out that pink glass.

#midoriya headcanons #midoroya x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #midoriya fluff

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bittywitches · 4 years

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I’m obsessed with the college roommates concept— maybe you’re feelings lonely and kinda sad abt ur love life one night and Grayson offers to take you on a date just for fun as friends but then ~feelings~ happen ☺️

Umm do you mean that one episode in season 8 of friends where Joey takes out pregnant Rachel and gets his crush on her??? Bc yes :))

It’s probably just been one of those weeks, you know? An assload of assignments, tests and exams every other day, most of which you’d completely bombed and were feeling shitty about. You hadn’t had more than 5 hours of sleep a day in like a month, you’d been living off of microwavables and instant noodles, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water since all your energy has been from coffee. And the kids in all your group projects this semester? Idiots. Selfish pricks. Every single one of them.

So it was needless to say that you were just in one of those moods. It was a Friday night, so things had slowed down enough, finally, but it also finally gave you some time to let yourself think, and god it was not great when you had to think.

It had started as just one of those basic thoughts; “What am doing? Where is this going?” which lead to “Why am I even in college in the first place?” Ending with “Oh my god I’m wasting my life and I’m gonna be alone forever”.

By the time Grayson had made it home that night, you were huddled up in the living room sofa under a blanket, your laptop open in your lap and snacks all over the table a couch while “Isn’t she lovely” by Stevie Wonder played on your phone as you tried your best not to burst into tears at the thought of never finding a boyfriend.

“Whoa, I don’t remember getting my invite to this slumber party.” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag onto the single sofa next to yours.

You slumped your shoulders. “It’s not a slumber party, it’s a pity party.”

“Oh?” He sat himself down on the sofa. “Who for?”

“Me, who else?” You wallowed, stuffing some more popcorn into your mouth.

“Why, did you get marks back?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a bit concerned at the volume of popcorn you were putting into your mouth with each bite.

“No, but what’s the point? I already know I’m doing bad.” You slumped backwards into the couch, just wishing you could be swallowed by the pillows and cushions.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your knee, looking at you seriously now. He knew you. Your general melt downs he was used to, but this was different. He could tell something was wrong. “You okay?”

You sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter and pausing the song so you could think straight. “You don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You sighed, slipping your legs out from under you and dangling them off the couch. “Okay, um..” Grayson’s hand had fallen away, and you suddenly felt like rubbing the spot on your leg where it had been. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been so busy lately, and it’s just gotten me thinking about my life in general. And how I haven’t gone out on a date in like…” You had to stop and think, and started laughing after a few seconds. “In so long I can’t even remember. Wow, god.” You sunk back into the couch. “I miss dating.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yea?”

“Yeah, you know,” You waved your hands around vaguely. “The whole excitement of it. Getting to dress up and look all nice. Feeling all pretty.” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head and laughed. “But you know, not that I need the reminder. I’m obviously hot as fuck.” You gestured to yourself, highlighting your nest of hair and your stained sweatshirt. You waited for him to laugh, but he just continued to look at you with that weirdly deep expression.

“What?”

“How about I take you on a date?”

You blinked at him, then started to chuckle, confused. “Huh?”

“You know, as friends. But I’ll give you like, the whole experience.”

You almost spit at that. “The ‘whole experience’?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll get all dressed up, go out to a nice place for dinner or something.”

You sat up now, your eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Why not? It’s a friday. If you have stuff to do you can always do it later.”

“You know where that mindset gets me, Dolan.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He smiled. “Plus, you deserve a fun night.”

You scoffed. “Yea, but not with a boyfriend or anything. With my roommate.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Incredibly.”

“God just shut up and go change.”

You laughed. “I— You know what? What the heck.” You got up, and he did with you. “Ah, okay!” You gave him a quick squeeze before running to your room, and his eyes followed after you, a gentle smile on his lips.

…

He’d done the whole shebang. He got dressed in a nice dress shirt and clean black jeans, something you’d actually never seen him wear before. He’d somehow gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which, you weren’t even sure where or how he’d gotten them, because you couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes to get ready. Nonetheless, he truly was the gentleman you had never expected. This was Grayson, the guy you watched old disney movies with and cried with during finals. He was the one you’d eat whole pints of ice cream with and play The Last of Us with and helped you master. He certainly wasn’t the one who was supposed to be complimenting you on your dress and taking you out to nice dinners. But here he was, doing just that.

He’d parked his car and was now escorting you inside this tiny but upscale italian restaurant, simple but elegant. As you entered through the glass door, the dazzling chandelier above the waiting area along with the gorgeous red sconces blew you away.

“Grayson how did you get a place like this on such short notice?” You whispered to him, gripping his arm, a bit intimidated by all the fancy folk waiting inside.

“I know some people.” He responded, a small smile on his lips.

You slapped his arm. “As if, you don’t even know the name of the Starbucks barista on campus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be cool?” You stared at him waiting for the response, and he sighed. “This place is fairly new. Not that many people know about it yet, so it’s pretty easy to get a reservation.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“Found it when I was looking for a place to take Sarah to.”

“Oh my god that girl from your Kinesiology class?” You looked at him with wide eyes and a grin on your face. “No way! I didn’t think you’d grow the balls to ask her out.”

“Hey,” He said, but you laughed. “Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I was just checking it out.”

“Well either way, she’s going to love this place, it’s so extravagant.” You made it to the front and Grayson informed the woman standing there of his reservation. She escorted you both inside and brought you to a table next to one of the windows. She’d dropped off two glasses of water and menus for you both to look at in the meantime. You peaked at the one in front of you, and your eyes grew again.

“Gray, did you happen to look at the prices before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.” He flipped through his casually, as if he wasn’t exasperated at the large numbers printed on the cards.

“Are you serious? What are you, made of money?”

“Hey, I promised you a fun night, right? I can make a few sacrifices.”

A young man came up to your table, and you both gave him your order. You ended up choosing the cheapest thing on the menu, because a) you didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Grayson, but also b) you barely knew what any of it was anyways. He left, you both chatted for a bit, and he returned with your meals, both of them being some sort of pasta that you were a bit embarrassed about not knowing the differences between.

Grayson didn’t really know that much either, to be quite honest, but for some reason he felt the need to impress you with this place. And he was pretty giddy about the fact that it was working.

But throughout this, you had kept staring at him, frankly a bit shocked at the whole situation you both were in. You had to shake your head to get your thoughts straight, but ended up giggling. “So, you always this sweet with the girls you take out on dates?”

He bit his cheek, but decided to play along, lowering his fork and leaning in towards you to hear you over the chatter in the restaurant. “Why, you interested?”

“No, just curious what it is that Grayson Dolan pulls to get a girl.” You crossed your arms on the table, on elbow propped up with your chin resting on your hand. “Tell me, you have any moves?”

He laughed. “What, that I just use with every girl?”

“Don’t act so modest. There’s gotta be something. What gets them drooling?” You asked a playful smile on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. “Okay fine, um.” He cleared his throat. “It usually starts out the same, I ask them about themself. Where they’re from, what they do— like, okay. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You snorted. “Are we doing this? Are we playing this out?”

“Yesss, go with it.”

You laughed. “Okay, uh well. I like to paint sometimes.”

“Yea? What kind of stuff?”

“Well I used to do more traditional stuff, my parents were really into those pretty realism paintings. I’d do flowers and fruits and whatever, but every since, I guess junior year of high school, I’ve been doing more pop art pieces? And a lot more self-indulgent stuff. And I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, but also realizing that Grayson had his soft eyes fixed on yours.

“What?”

His eyes widened a little, as if you’d shook him out of a daze, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, uh... “ He smiled. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Your face flushed a little bit, and you looked away from him, taking a sip of water to use it as your excuse. “Ah, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Anyways, so do you still do pop art now? Or has it changed since you’ve started college?”

You blinked at him, then covered your mouth as you opened it in slight shock. “Wow, that was really good.”

He laughed. “Yea?”

“The eye thing was good on it’s own but to know you were actually listening to me? I’m impressed.” You nodded in approval.

He tilted his head, chuckling. “Thank you, thank you.” He took another bite of food before continuing. “So what about you? You have any moves?”

You snorted again. “Gray, I barely go out on enough dates in the first place, much less enough to establish any moves.”

“Why are you always so modest? You can tell me you know.”

You laughed. “Yeah duh I know, but I’m genuinely serious this time. I don’t get asked out all that often.” You shrugged. “It’s why I get excited when I do get to go on dates. It’s fun.”

Grayson was the one who couldn’t help but stare now. He blinked at you, unable to really comprehend what you were saying to him. How could people not want to ask you out? You were incredible. Looking at you now, your hair up in a dainty bun, a few curls falling down the sides of your face; your pretty off the shoulder dress that matched your deep magenta-maroon lipstick. And he wasn’t lying about your eyes, they really were so pretty. They sparkled, even more so when you were laughing. Which was usually accompanied by your scrunched up nose, making you look like a cute little bunny. He smiled at the thought, as he loved seeing that expression on your face.

“Huh.” he said out loud then, not realizing when it was he had starting noticing your small actions like that so much.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him, and suddenly, seeing those same eyes he always saw staring at him, he felt almost light headed. His face felt warm, seeing you look at him like that. He was almost afraid that you could see what he was thinking. But why would that be a problem unless…

Grayson slowly widened his eyes. Did he seriously have feelings for Y/N?

“Nothing, sorry.” He said with a smile, looking back down at his food. Sure, he’d always thought you were amazing. You were gorgeous, sure, and you made him laugh. And yea he loved hanging out with you, watching movies and playing video games, and he adored being your roommate, having late night conversations and spending all your free time together…

He wanted to mentally smack himself in the face. Shit, he had feelings for you.

This was going to be a long night.

#not me getting ~carried away~ as usual #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #ask #anon

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