#holding onto those chains as long as she could

[mylonelydreaming]

Sometimes it feels like not enough people recognise that what Zelda did in botw was lock ganon in a duel for a hundred years. She was his jailer that whole time, not simply a helpless damsel

[queenofheartlessdreams]

Scorned Sympathy ( Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Fandom: House of the Dragon, Aegon II Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower's sister has always hated the King, and transversely, he has hated her back. But, that all changes after he returns from Rook's Rest.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none? I think, I don't know, its HOTD but mostly hurt/comfort and fluff

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They say that burns are a sacred death. The death of  dragon riders, honoring them among the living, and the dead. In his history lessons, Aegon had heard it was peaceful. Yes, there was supposed to be a screaming,  agonizing pain, but as flesh burned away, it took nerve endings with it, leaving them to feel nothing, numb. 

But Aegon hadn't been so lucky, he had only wished he had died back on the battlefield, died on impact of the flames. Then he wouldn't have had to suffer through spiraling to the ground, snapping his bones, or feel his armor being peeled away after it had merged with his flesh. He wouldn't have had to sleep nearly every hour of the day, waking up only to experience excruciating pain, relearning to walk when every step made him cry out in agony. 

The once comforting walls of his bedroom had turned into a torture chamber as he was forced to his feet by the Maesters, only to hobble around the confinements of those walls, good hand gripping the cane with enough force to drive splinters in his hands and cause his knuckles to turn white.

He cried out as the Maester pushed him into another step, holding him upright as best he could. Larys Strong stood in the patch of sunlight in the room, giving him an angelic halo, ironic as it was his devilish idea to make Aegon start walking so soon, only weeks after he had returned to the Red Keep.  

"Impressive," the club-footed man says, heads turning in his direction, "But I'm afraid you must work harder."

Aegon screams as Larys reaches around his other arm, cries of pain sounding like twisted laughter as together, they move him another step. Burned tissue stretched as they did, a blinding pain seeping through his barely-healed broken leg. 

The men pause in their persistence as the large bedroom doors swing open, silver-draped guards pushing them back to reveal the figure of Y/N, the youngest Hightower daughter. Her frame was draped in a long black gown, tied around her center with a golden chain that stopped several inches above the hem of her skirts. Long copper hair draped down her back, just as her eldest sister, yet that was where the similarities stopped. 

While Alicent was looked up to, a regal Queen of the realm, her sister had all but denounced her high-blood status, working in the streets as a herbalist, giving medicine to the poor, healing wounds, and delivering children. It wasn't until Viserys had died that Alicent welcomed her into the castle, for her protection, she had explained, though no man nor woman would dare to touch the 'witch'.

"Return the King to his bed, my Lords," the woman says, striding into the room, hands folded neatly in front of her gown. 

"The King must regain his strength, my Lady, he must practice," Lord Larys calls over his shoulder, dismissing her command.

Y/N smiles curtly at his defiance, "How would you like to disfigure your other foot, Lord Layrs?"

The man stops, struggling out from underneath the King's arm, "The King-"

"The King is too busy moaning in agony to give a shit about what you think," the woman interrupts, a boldness frowned upon in the castle, "Return him to bed, and leave us. I'm sure there are whispers to attend to."

Reluctantly, the Maester carries Aegon to his bed, allowing him to fall back onto the sanction of his covers. The Maester moves to lift the King's legs, despite his protests, earning a painful cry as they hit his sheets.

Vhisrya watches as the King rolls to his untainted side, arms curled up against his chest in defeat, body trembling as whimpers escape his scarred lips. The Maester exits quickly, Lord Larys slowly following, glaring at her with every step. It is only when she hears the large doors latch shut behind the men that she makes her way over to the King's bedside. He resembled a small child more than a man, curled around himself in loosely fitted clothes, eyes squeezed shut as his body shook.

He takes a ragged breath as he senses her presence beside him, eyes opening just the slightest to glare at the black-clothed woman, "Come to finish me off, witch?"

The witch makes no remark against him, only motioning for the boy to sit upright in the bed. He does so, grunting in pain, bracing himself on his good arm as he slides up to prop his back against the headboard. 

Y/N makes note of his trembling hands, the way he still insisted on putting up a bitter front despite not being able to move even a foot without collapsing in pain. It reminded her of his father. 

Regardless, she reaches for the buttons of his nightgown, pulling them apart hastily till his chest was exposed. Blistering red wounds stretched across the expanse of his left side, charred and black in some places, while in others, the skin had been cut away in jagged marks from separating melted armor from the King's flesh. 

"What-what are you doing?" Aegon trembles, fear lacing his voice. 

The woman's eyes move from his chest, to his face. He watched as they drifted from his swollen eyelid, to the top of his head, where silvery-blonde hair parted from vibrant burns, to where his ear once was, reduced now to a small lump that opened into his eardrum. He knew it was hideous, he wouldn't lie to himself, trying to persuade his own mind that he was still the beautiful boy the kingdom worshiped. He knew that if he healed, he couldn't even be seen in a pleasure house, not even the whores wanting to be fucked by a monster such as himself.

"Your grace?"

A soft voice draws him out of his own mind, one that was nearly unrecognizable coming from the woman beside him, "I have an ointment, one that should assist in healing your burns. But, I require you to remove your sleeves."

"Can't", Aegon grunts, talking becoming an exhaustion.

"I can assist you," the woman cooes, dragging the soiled fabric down his good arm first.

Aegon whimpers as her hand moves to his burned side, gently peeling the fabric from his neck, then down his shoulder, drawing near his bicep. He could feel the fabric stick to his skin, the pus that leaked from his wounds drying, attaching itself to the coarse fabric.

"I'm going to lift your arm," the woman says, earning a series of pleading "no"'s as she does.

The prince groans in pain, feeling the blistering skin stretch, muscle burning as she peeled the fabric away from his body, letting it pool around his waist.

Y/N could see the King's murderous gaze as she finished, pulling his arm back immediately, heavy breaths filling his chest, followed by shaking exhales. 

She makes haste, placing a mortar on the nearby table, filling it with oils and herbs, grinding it till the scent fills the room, overwhelmed by lavender. The King watches as she pulls a small vial from the pocket of her dress, opening it to reveal a nearly clear, thick liquid.

"What is that?" the King asks, the filth of his mind overpowering common sense.

Y/N looks back to the burned man, unaware he was watching her, "It's dragon saliva. Something in it prevents the dragons from being burned when they breathe fire, and proves itself to assist the healing process quicker than the Maester's brew alone. It only took me so long to bring it to you as your brother won't let me near his dragon, Sunfyre has not returned from Rook's Rest, and Helaena won't speak to me as she thinks I had something to do with your son's beheading."

Her last words come out as an aggravated shout, making the boy flinch. With a deep breath, she regains herself, carrying the mortar to his bedside, black dress fanning out on the sheets beside him, "I apologize, your Grace. You all think of me as some plague here to ruin the sanction of your home, yet Alicent refuses to let me leave the castle walls."

It was strange, hearing his mother's name be used so plainly, everyone else referred to her as the Queen, even Aemond and him referred to her as  "your Grace". 

Aegon clears this throat as the woman begins to spread the paste across his chest. It burned at first, but not to the level of the Maester's concoction. Perhaps dragon saliva was the key.

"She believes you would flee to Rhaenyra, aid her conquest for the crown," he grunts, intently gazing at the greenish mixture spread across his skin.

"And she is right," Y/N states plainly, "Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and you have usurped her crown."

"I could have your head for that," Aegon jokes, a faint smile, one of the first since he had returned, spreading across his lips. 

The woman smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues to coat his torso, " I could have already had yours."

"Why haven't you, then?"

The hand that holds the brush hesitates, as Y/N searches for an answer. In all honesty, she has had many opportunities to kill the man, yet the thought never truly crossed her mind. She takes a deep breath before continuing her strokes, "You may be a monster- the sins you have committed are so terrible that you'd burst into flames if you ever set foot in the Sept. But, I know you did not choose to be King, just as I did not choose to waste away in this castle. I do not wish to punish you for something you cannot control, you have suffered enough."

Aegon says nothing, only faint whimpers coming from his lips. His breathing stilled as the woman traced a line of ointment across his face, delicately placing it across the edge where untouched skin met charred flesh. His body jolts as she accidentally brushes over an open wound on his cheekbone, where his helmet had melted, merging itself with his flesh. Despite how careful the Maester had been when removing it, deep gashes still marred his face. 

The King yelps in pain, eyes shut as the oils burn their way through his open wound, sending a new wave of intense pain across his face. His body curls against itself, a position he found himself in more and more often these days. But rather than digging the nails of his good hand into the palm of his fist, he found a softer, more delicate hand in his , softly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, "I'm sorry."

Aegon whimpers, the comfort of her touch calming the scarred boy. It was rare that he obtained touches like these, not even from his mother, despite how much she claimed she loved him. No, she was more focused on being Queen than being a mother.  His wife was the same way, more fascinated with her bugs than her husband, only laying with him when they were forced to produce an heir, before returning to her own quarters in solitude. He would watch Helaena with their own children, interacting with them, holding them, reading to them, only wishing that his mother had done the same. 

So Aegon welcomes the warmth of the witch, clutching her hand with the intention to never let go until his scars had healed and he could hold his head with as much dignity as a true king. "Tell me a story," Aegon whispers, distracting himself from the pain that stretched across his body with every breath.

Y/N smirks, placing the mortar between her legs so she could continue placing the ointment with his hand still clutching her own. 

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Princess, who was locked away in a tower guarded by a fierce dragon. Her parents, the King and Queen, missed her dearly, and declared that any knight who were to rescue her from the dragon's keep, would marry the lovely Princess.

Not far from the kingdom lived a beast, alone. He was happy that way, till a power-hungry Lord wished to take the beast's land for himself. Upset, the beast made a deal with the Lord, in exchange for his land, the beast would rescue the Princess from her dragon's keep, so the Lord may marry her. True to his word, the beast saved the girl, yet as they traveled back to the Lord's castle, the beast found himself falling in love with the Princess."

Beside her, Aegon's breath slows, muscles relaxing against her grip, yet his violet eyes stay fixated on the woman. He listens to her intently, soft voice ringing through the silent room, as airy as wind blowing his curtains in the night. 

"One night," Y/N continues, brushing the ointment across his scarred forearm, "The beast sought to confront the Princess, yet when he came to her cabin, he heard vile words coming from her mouth, ones solely describing such a monster as the beast. Furious, he gave her to the Lord, returning to his swamp alone. Yet, he couldn't forget the Princess, as even if she despised him, he loved her. So, he returned to the Lord's castle the night of the wedding.

As the sun fell that night, the beast watched as the beloved Princess transformed before his eyes, to a beast herself. Cursed by a witch many years before, the Princess turned ugly, monstrous, every night, the curse only to be broken by true love's kiss.

Together, the beast and the Princess slayed the Lord, and wed that night. Yet, when she kissed the beast, her appearance remained disfigured. The Princess then realized, that love's truest form was not based in beauty, but in happiness. She returned to the swamp with her beloved beast, and the two lived happily ever after."

Vhisrya finished her story with a smile, placing the brush back in the mortar. She looks down at the King, whose eyes were shut. For a moment, she thinks he has fallen asleep, but Aegon grunts, indicating he is still conscious, "Was there a moral to that story?"

He had only thought of the question after listening to one of Jaehaerys's lessons, one of the few times he was sober while the sun was still high in the sky. It made him feel like a child himself, curled along his tutor's side as she read him tales of past Kings.

The woman beside him rolls her eyes, placing her hand atop his own, "The moral is that even though someone may appear hideous, it does not make them a beast."

A deep flush overtakes Aegon's body, understanding her words. Still, he purses his swollen lips, "What if one's insides are as hideous- as hideous as their outsides?"

"Then that is truly a monster," Y/N replies, watching as the boy's face turns to a scowl.

A few moments of silence pass before the woman lets out a heavy sigh, "The beast was known for killing villagers set foot near his swamp, yet after he rescued his bride, he never killed again. He changed, Aegon, and you can too."

A chill is sent up Aegon's spine when she says his name. Like the rest of his court, she only addressed him "your Grace", and even when she did refer to him indirectly as "King Aegon", spite laced her words, bitter as poison. In every sober moment he had believed that she had hated him, yet her presence and aid in his time of need dismissed the notion from his mind entirely. 

Not even his mother had looked at him for this long, or made conversation so kind. Aegon had seen her, several times, hovering behind the Maester's as they tended to his wounds, yet she never dared to approach him, so close to his gnarled flesh. He couldn't blame her, he knew it was hideous, and the Queen's stomach was not meant to see such obscenities. 

In all honestly, neither should Y/N, but her previous line of work made her accustomed to such sights. The King swallows thickly, pain stretching up the left side of his neck, causing him to let out a small whimper. 

He feels the woman's hand stroke through his matted hair, hair that hasn't been brushed, or even washed in days. It shamed him, that he was incapable of keeping up his own appearance, needing the hands of servants to take the place of his own in combing his hair, washing him, dressing him, feeding him. 

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers, discarding the last bit of dignity he held.

Y/N looked to the boy below her. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she had never seen before, a glisten of sadness, despair, hopelessness. "Of course."

Aegon grunts as the weight shifts on the bed as she lays beside him, on his good side, not wanting to damage him in his slumber. The tormented King watches as she discards her jewelry on the furthest bedside table before fluffing a pillow to join him in the bed. Her long hair splays across the pillow as she grasps his hand, leaving several inches between the two of them. 

"Come closer," Aegon pleads, pulling gently on her hand, as much as his muscles would allow without excruciating pain.

"I don't want to harm you," Y/N says quickly, concerned etched in her features. 

"You won't" Aegon replies, sinking into the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

His body aches from his burns, the ointment only soothing his pain so much. It was nights like this, when Aegon couldn't sleep, when his body caused him so much trouble that he trembled and moaned until the morning sun rose. But as he curled against the woman, his pain began to subdue. He knew it wasn't literal, that her presence made his hurt go away, but he wished to believe it that simple, that she was his cure.

Y/N listened to his wheezing breaths slow as she held him, hand tight in her own. She felt the King's nose bury itself against the nape of her neck, a small grunt escaping his lips. She could feel his  chest rise and fall against her own as the King falls into a dreamless slumber. 

Darkness fills the room as the final candle burns low, the witch finally closing her eyes for her own rest, holding the broken, tortured boy in her arms, keeping him safe through the night. 

[trashno0dle]

Actually I lied I need to ramble about one thought in particular before I die.

King's Dad was watching everything the whole time. He was keeping an eye on his son the entire time meaning he was watching the first years of King's life when he was alone, he watched when Eda found him in the rubble of the castle and he must've been so thankful that his son had found company at last, and he made sure he was being well treated and continued to watch him grow throughout the years.

When Luz came the Boiling Isles he watched her too, he watched her development and watched her grow into the person she ultimately became and in turn for holding a deep regard to the Owl Family for looking after his son, he revealed his magic to her (something he tried to keep from Belos for as long as he could, but gave to Luz freely) so she could learn and speak his own language as a thank you for all she had done.

And he finally stopped watching, he finally passed on when he knew King was safe and so were the Isles. He no longer had to live in the In-Between, stuck with the guilt and regret of falsely imprisoning the Collector, kick-starting a chain of events that led everything in motion, a lot like with how Luz held a lot of guilt for playing part in it too. Their guilt is linked, they both felt the same way for actions that weren't entirely their fault because they were tricked.

But another thing I'd like to add, onto the Belos point. Is that King's Dad also probably watched Caleb come into the Isles, he watched him fall in love with the hidden beauty of it all and a Witch along with it. He watched Philip/Belos arrive and watched as he committed so many atrocities, how he murdered his own brother, the one he'd watched and allowed in his world — he desperately tried to hide his magic from Belos for as long as he could. Which is further backed up when Philip says (when talking about the light glyph with Luz) that something was trying to hide it from him (I'm paraphrasing here I don't actually remember what he said, but it was along those lines).

ANYWAY. Yeah. I'm thinking about how not only were we the watchers, but King's Dad was watching with us the whole time too. I guess that's another reason they settled on “Watching and Dreaming” huh.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 | steve x reader ; eddie x reader

summary: when your boyfriend dies as a result from saving you and your friends, you find yourself deep in the throes of grief. and in your lowest moment you find a new vice, something… or rather someone unexpected.

6.1k, reader is named “nellie” simply bc i refuse to use y/n, smut, 18+ only, multiple chapters, future drug use, mature themes, heavy depictions of grief/suffering leading to questionable decisions

big s/o & thanks to @rebelfell + @rxqueenotd for spit ballin’ ideas and beta’ing ❤️‍🩹

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His body laid for three days before Owen’s team braved that cold and eerie pit of desolate hell. Strong hands had pulled you away from his body, and you had tried to claw your way back to him, begging for death to take you instead. 

That night you watched him choke on his last breath, his lungs gurgling with a squelching pop of blood as hesmiled one last, and final time, his last words played over and over again. 

“I’m so lucky to have been loved by you.”

His skin was still warm when the others found you clutching onto him, laying beside him as if you were cuddling during another time. A time when monsters didn’t exist and all you had was happiness. Legs thrown over one another as you watched a movie in the Wheeler’s basement, or when your wet hair seeped into his skin after a late night of swimming at Lover’s Lake, or the feel of his fingers tucked into the nape of your neck while you kissed him at your lockers back in high school. 

Never. You’d never feel that from him again. 

Large arms wrapped around your middle hauling you away. And you scrambled, kicked and slapped to get back to him. Screaming his name over and over. Because they weren’t his hands, and they would never hold you again, he was dead, Steve was dead. 

The hours after were a blur, somehow the rest of you had managed to get away. Eddie jump started an abandoned military vehicle that a rescue team had left while under attack, driving back to the gate that reopened under the ruins of StarCourt. 

Your head laid in Robin’s lap the entire ride back while Eddie drove, silent tears falling down everyone’s cheeks, Dustin sobbing into Nancy’s bony shoulder. 

You all stayed together those first few nights, laying in a fortress of blankets and couch pillows in your living room. It all seemed to move in slow motion, a terrible aching dread filled your soul and refused to leave the hole in your heart. 

The house you and Steve had rented was large enough to accommodate everyone for a few days. Those days were spent telling favorite stories of him. Talking about the pride he had for everyone, the mother hen of the group. How he would lay down and sacrifice himself for everyone he knew and he did just that.

A solemn silence fell over everyone, after a kick to the chest of reality fell like a veil—that he would never again come walking in the door. That Robin lost her best friend and confidant. That you would mourn your boyfriend, lover, and friend until your dying days. That Dustin lost his first male father figure. It all came crashing down at once, and no one spoke much after that besides the occasional sniffle or to open the back door to chain smoke the anxiety away. 

Claudia eventually called to have Dustin come home. Jonathan stopped over with his long haired friend from California, and you were anything but friendly to them. How could you be? You watched in jealous rage as Jonathan pressed kisses to Nancy’s cheek and rubbed her back soothingly. 

She lost a friend. You had lost the only person who knew you from the inside and out, and it wasn’t fair. 

Everyone trickled out of the home you shared with Steve. One by one, silently not wanting to be the last to leave, to have to watch your eyes wet as you were left to your own vices, left in this empty house that held all of your memories.

You couldn’t blame them. Hell was here and you were swallowed by its warmth, the flames licking your neck as you fell deeper into it, succumbing to the heat.

Eddie was the last to go. He was oddly quiet during the last few days, leaving late after everyone had fallen asleep just to return again in the morning. He had asked to use the phone only once, quietly excusing himself to use the bathroom afterwards, coming back to the living room looking even more lost than he had earlier, his eyes wet with fresh tears. 

It was almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be here or not. He didn’t know Steve as long as everyone else did, but over the last year they’d gotten close, as if they were almost family more than they were friends. 

You had come to know and accept Eddie and Chrissy well, over the last year you’d spent a few nights every couple of months double dating at Enzo’s or game nights playing Scrabble at your house. When the world flipped upside down again, all of the fun came to an end, and the last nine months or more had been spent strategizing… trying to find a means to end this real life hell once and for all. 

And it did end, but at what cost?

Eddie’s shadow lingered by the front door as you walked over, one of Steve’s button down shirts hanging loose on your shoulders, the sleeves damp with your tears. 

His dark eyes swam with something you hadn’t recognized at all the past week, it wasn’t fear like it had been when you were miles below in another dimension. But you couldn’t nail down what he was feeling as he asked, “are you gonna be okay?” 

You stared at him, raising an eyebrow with an exhaustive look. 

His fingers worked the rings on his left hand. “I mean, tonight… are you alright, alone? I can stay if you...” He paused for a while, his tongue pressed into his cheek as he stared at the blue rug, his boots pinching his aching feet. Raising his eyes to yours once more, “I— I know how it feels when someone you love dies, it’s…hard.” 

Tears welled for what felt like the hundredth time in twenty four hours, and you shook your head. You dreaded this night when things should return to normal, when your friends had to return to school, their jobs. Things had to go back to the way they were— but you couldn’t. Not now, Maybe not ever. 

You remember how Eddie had missed school for weeks years ago back in elementary. But you weren’t friends then so you never knew, and you felt like a bitch for never asking. “I’m sorry, I— I didn’t—.” 

He turned his face away, smiling and finding interest in the wood grain of the front door, “it was a long time ago, I’ve had time to heal, but it takes awhile.” 

All you had was time. Time without Steve. Time to mourn the loss of the only man you’ve ever loved. Silent streaks slid down the apples of your cheeks, and Eddie stepped forward like he might crush you into a hug, but he stopped short. Instead rubbing his hand lightly down your arm, “I left my number on the counter, call anytime. Okay?” 

You blinked back at him and nodded. If you wouldn’t have been crying you could have seen the turmoil stir in the caffeinated browns of his. 

“Thanks, Eddie… I might just take you up on that.” 

He smiled gravely, “I did— I didn’t know Steve for as long as everyone else did… but he was a really good friend to me.” 

You looked up at him, eyes welling with tears at the man all of Hawkins marked to be a Satanic Cult Leader.

“He cared about you and Chrissy a lot, Eddie.” 

He smiled sadly and turned away before you could catch him wiping his eyes, or notice the wobble of his bottom lip. 

“I know, I did too…take care, Nellie.”

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Steve’s cologne was still on the bathroom sink. Dried toothpaste was stuck between the bristles of his toothbrush left from his rush to leave that morning— the last one he’d ever have. 

His bar of soap in the shower still held dry bubbles from lathered skin the last night you’d spent together. You had shared the warmth of a shower, shampooing his hair and Steve attempting to help shave your legs, giggling between the spray of the water. Later he laid you down making you whimper as he kissed your neck, fucking you slow and deep, whispering in your ear how you were his entire world. 

You hadn’t slept in your shared bed since his death, and now that the chaos had dissipated, and the house was quiet outside of the usual clicks and hums from the refrigerator, you braved the lonely queen sized bed and slipped between the cool sheets. 

The sweet burn of cedar, clove and a tangy bit of citrus surrounded you. Steve’s aroma, his smell held you like a child as you cried into his pillow. Curling your body into his side of the bed, you imagined his large hands splayed across your belly as he held you close to him, pulling you tightly against him so there wasn’t a single inch of him not touching you.

But in the end it was just you alone, trying to find warmth in cold sheets with a wet pillow. 

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The alarm clock had scared the shit out of you.

The ringing turned to chimes in your dream, and when you woke— alone, it was in a puddle of sweat, the bed sheets wrapped around you like those horrible black vines had. 

The kitchen tile was cold on your bare toes as you padded to the coffee maker. Steve considered himself the best barista in Hawkins, and no matter how hard you tried to replicate it your pot of coffee never stood a chance next to his. 

Digging into the Folgers can, you dump two heaping dollops of grounds into the filter, pressing the ‘on’ button, mentally preparing for the worst cup of coffee you’d had since before you had started dating Steve. No hope to be found, optimism long gone. 

It took only a moment, a single sleep riddled half thought for you to slip up, your mind forgetting for just a second as you accidentally wondered what you and Steve would do for the weekend. 

Your nerves went into shock, you gasped in guilted embarrassment at the audacity to forget that. How? How how how how how! Pulling at your hair you scanned the kitchen table, eyeing Eddie’s number written on a pad of paper, but grabbing the phone you dialed a different one instead. 

She answered on the second ring, her voice sleepy and haggard as you whispered through choked tears, “h—he’s gone.” 

“Yeah,” Robin answered, sheets shuffling around, “he’s gone.” 

Tears fell in large drops down your face, as you nodded at the answer you already knew, silently needing the confirmation. 

How would you be able to walk the streets alone without Steve’s big hand crimped tight around yours? How could you live without ever hearing his voice, his laugh ever again?

When you hung up, Robin didn’t call back, and even if she had you wouldn’t have picked up. The day brought visitors trying to cheer you up. Rubbing your back as you stared blankly at the wall. Promising you things would get better, would be easier as time went on. Bullshit. All of it. 

As sweet as they were, how the hell would they know? How could they possibly hurt as bad as you did?

They had lost a friend, an older brother figure, but they didn’t know Steve on the intimate levels you did. They had no idea that he woke with terrors almost every night. Or that he had failed his driver’s test twice, or that he had a patch of light freckles on his nether region. 

Steve had been everything to you and now that he was gone you didn’t know how to cope in a world without him. If whatever higher power could grant Chrissy new life, and Eddie was spared from the bats, why wasn’t Steve? 

Your questions went unanswered as your mind reeled with pictures of him, flicking like a movie, your eyes stinging with anger. 

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Every night since he had died, you had slept in a pair of Steve’s boxers and a Hawkins High Prom 1984 shirt. 

From what you could tell, Robin was in the same shape you were in, unable to go back to work, barely sleeping. The only difference was she had Vickie at home to comfort her, hold her and wipe away her cries. 

You couldn’t help but feel nothing but jealous and sick to your stomach at the thought of how you were having to go through this alone. No matter how selfish that made you, you simply couldn’t care. 

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Nancy woke you the morning before the funeral with a sharp knock on the front door, and an armful of baked goods. She made coffee as you stared a hole into the kitchen floor, she vacuumed as you thumbed through Steve’s wallet, silently tearing up over his driver’s license picture. 

She folded laundry while you sobbed and screamed at a very surprised Keith when he called to ask why Steve hadn’t shown up for his shift. Nancy didn’t blink when the phone was pulled from the wall and sent flying across the living room as you pulled your hair in a fit because Steve is gone. Dead. Not coming back.

Nancy simply rubbed your back, pushing away hair from your wet cheeks after you fell asleep with your head in her lap. And when you woke, feeling worse than hungover with swollen eyes and a sore throat— she wouldn’t let you apologize. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Surprisingly, Steve’s parents found it in themselves to pretend they gave a shit long enough to plan his funeral. 

Everything was gaudy. Overdone and full of rich smells of roses so strong you wanted to vomit. 

Pearls clung to your ears and neck. The velvet of your black dress was warm on your body despite the cold gusts of wind that chapped your stocking clad legs. The sun wouldn’t shine today, or in your mind ever again. 

Robin showed up first, clinging to Vickie’s arm, a sad smile on her freckled face. She wore a dress, a sort of last laugh for Steve’s sake to see her dressed up. She throws herself at you, all legs and tear stained cheeks, squeezing your face into her shoulder.

“He would have hated this,” she sniffled after glancing around at The Harrington’s entourage, “look at her wiping her eyes as if she’d even talked to Steve within the last year.”

Steve’s mother stood in all of her Chanel No 9 glory, delicately dabbing a silk hanky to her dry eyes, as funeral goers grasped her manicured hand and spilled condolences. 

The sight alone made you sick. Mary could win an Oscar for her performance. Nobody but you and Robin would have any idea that Steve hadn’t spoken to his parents in over a year. Christmas to be exact. The first and last one you two had spent at their enormous home. 

What should have been a nice evening ended in harsh words and Steve’s father saying he was disowning him. Steve held his head high on the way home, apologizing for his parents and promising that he would never have anything to do with them again. 

And from there up until they were told of their only son’s death— The Harrington’s never once tried to make amends. 

“Always a show with her,” you sighed angrily. 

“How are you doing? Vickie asks shyly, “Is there anything we can do?”

“I’m fine, really. I—I’m okay, slowly but surely.” 

Vickie smiles and squeezes your hand, “He never loved someone as much as he loved you, Nel.” 

The words hit like a bullet. 

You knew.

Of course you had known. Steve told you that himself on more occasions than you could count, you didn’t need to hear it from someone else, didn’t need the reassurance that a man who literally died to protect you really did love you. 

It felt foreign—sounding horribly wrong coming out of a mouth that wasn’t his. Body on fire with something worse than rage, all you wanted to do was scream. Nodding your head once you excuse yourself, pushing out of the side exit and down some cement steps to the outside.

Air. You needed to force air into your lungs before you collapsed. Your chest felt as if it was going to burst into flames, suddenly everything felt so restricting. The air was frozen and bitter, resembling yourself lately and the outcome of the last few days. 

Gasping, choking on wailing cries you pulled at the neck of your dress, kicking your shoes into the dead grass. You yanked barrettes from your hair and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes until you saw spots of gold and green. Anything to try to get some relief try to stop the sensation of being suffocated by something you couldn’t even see. 

“Nellie?” 

Tears poured from your face as you whimpered, struggling with the zipper on the back of your dress. 

It wasn’t fair. Why him? Why Steve? He was so good. Much better than you. He was kind and handsome, he loved big and treated everyone around him like they were the most important person in the room. 

He was the best friend, best boyfriend, best everything.

It should have been you.

A pair of warm hands land on your shoulders pulling you backwards and upright, frightening you before the warm tobacco spiced voice whispers in your ear.

“Breathe, Nel… c’mon sweetheart.” 

“I- c—can’t… Eddie…I—” coughing and clawing at the necklace of pearls, you desperately tried to unhook them, their weight feeling like boulders sitting on your chest, threatening to break you to pieces.

Eddie moved the hair from your neck, and in one little clink the necklace fell into your hands. 

“It’s off, it’s off— c’mon now, you gotta take a deep breath for me.” He spun you around placing his warm hands on your cheeks, sweeping away the icy tears. 

He was dressed in all black, his leather jacket tight on his arms. A frumpy, wrinkled tie loose around his neck looking like it had been tied and re-tied too many times before he just gave up. 

“In and out,” he instructed softly, taking your hand and placing it against his chest, “match it to mine. Feel it?”

It didn’t work, it wasn't helping. Eddie didn’t waste time before the cold leather of his arms wrap around you, delicately rubbing your back as you collapsed into him. 

The wind bit at his face as he held you close, stroking your hair. “It’s alright, ‘s gonna be okay, I’m here— we all are.” 

You let yourself break, let the sadness consume you before the funeral could start and you had to be brave for everyone. You wouldn’t let his parents see you this way, they already thought you were every bit of trash but Steve had always held you higher, placing you on a special little pedestal. And with him, nothing else mattered. 

Wiping your eyes, you pull back enough to see Eddie’s face, the dark sunglasses he wore were fogged up on the inside, shielding away his own turmoil, but his lip quivered slightly. 

“God, Eddie,“ you sniffed, voice wobbly as you murmur, “Sorry.. ‘m such a mess.” 

“Don’t do that,” he almost whispers, voice low and sensual, “don’t apologize.” 

If you could see his eyes you would notice how sad they were, how he was doing his very best to hold it together. How he had bags under his eyes from not sleeping. You’d see the guilt etched into the darks of his irises for being alive, for coming out of there alive.

The door swings open with a loud crack, caught in a gust of blustering wind, Dustin standing on the threshold trying to hold onto the handle for dear life, he winces when he sees the two of you. 

“Hey, it’s—” he looks at his watch, “they’re ready to start.” 

Eddie removes his hands from your arms and shoves them into his pockets, all the warmth leaving you as the wind creeps through the fabric of your dress.

“Be right there man,” Eddie answers tight lipped, trying to convey to Dustin that you needed a minute to collect yourself, “save me a seat.” 

When the door shuts with great force on Dustin’s end, he bends down to scoop up your discarded heels, holding them by the backs. He sets them on the ground between the two of you, gathering your arm in his hand as you steadied yourself with his body to balance while you slipped your feet in. 

Taking one last ragged breath, Eddie moves beside you looking up at the church, then back at you.

“I don’t think I can say goodbye.” 

Eddie swallows hard, reaching out with a cautious hand but deciding at the last minute to shove it into his pocket, “you don’t have to, y'know? My m— well, I heard once that a person’s spirit can live on as long as you need them.” 

“D’ do you believe in that kind of stuff?” you ask solemnly, “The afterlife? Reincarnation?” 

“I believe that Steve would want all of us to keep going, to be the best versions of ourselves…. and he would probably scold us for being late to his funeral.” 

You smile then, wrapping your hands around your arms rubbing warmth into them. “He definitely would, I can almost hear him fussing.”  

“Hands on his hips, no doubt,” Eddie said with a grin, “But he’d pull himself together…be strong for everyone, he was always good at doing that.”

You look at him, completely unaware of his own inner struggles. “That was Steve, always brave, always willing to defend someone.”

The door busts open again, this time it’s Hopper, his bristly mustache matching his thick eyebrows as he stares with annoyance at your tardiness. 

“Shit,” Eddie jokes, “better go before he calls the hounds.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

It was a closed casket per your request, even though his mother argued to have it open. Wanting the sympathy from her friends of being a parent “burying-their-child” and to have people comment on how he looked like her, how beautiful they both were— it was sick. 

Dustin made a speech. His hair pushed back just how Steve had taught him back in high school. He shed a tear at the end when he referred to Steve as his best friend. Climbing down from the podium, he slumped in the pew next to Eddie, sniffling softly as his shoulders shook. 

Robin recited a light hearted poem, promising to keep the store running and to finally get her driver’s license. Her eyes sparkled as she recounted the laughs she and Steve had shared. 

When it was your turn, your heart felt like it was filled with lead, the walk up the ugly church carpet felt as if it drug on forever, and you had to take several deep breaths before adjusting the mic. 

Your poorly written speech talked about how Steve lit up every room, how he was adored by everyone at Hawkins High. But now, under the scathing florescent lights under the wet eyes of your closest friends, the jumbled words looked like nothing but bullshit. 

Tears rimmed your eyes and you felt the same death grip of panic rising on your throat. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, body shaking as you fumbled with the index cards, “I- I can’t.” 

It was Joyce who met you at the podium with a caring smile, and open arms guiding you back to the pew. She didn’t mind that you sobbed into her shoulder making a mess of her cotton dress. And when the service was over and it was time to go to the cemetery, she held your hand and led the way.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You felt numb as you stood next to Robin. Her icy fingers laced with yours as you zoned out completely while standing at his gravesite. Someone was talking but you couldn’t register who it was or what they were saying. 

Your body was present but your mind was floating in a memory. 

“Should we have spaghetti tonight? Or do you wanna order a pizza and I’ll pick it up after I leave work?” 

Steve’s comforting voice filled your ear as you twirled your finger around the cord in the stockroom at Melvald’s. A common occurrence for the two of you, each sneaking off to call each other during the day. Eight hours away from him was too much. 

“Already got the noodles boiling for spaghetti, honey,” he practically purred into the phone, “tell Joyce you’re taking off for the night and come home to me.” 

Your smile squeaked through the receiver, your heart skipped beats at the thought of Steve Harrington wanting you… two years together it still seemed like yesterday that you had gone on your first date.

“Steve,” you giggled, “You didn’t have to.”

“Ah ah ah, I won’t listen to that,” Steve lightly scolded, “I like to cook and take care of my girl, we’re a team, Nellie.” 

You begrudgingly sigh and feel heat rise to your cheeks, you really were one of the luckiest girls. “Okay Captain, what kind of noodles are you making?” 

Steve chuckles through the receiver, cream colored phone balancing on his shoulder as he adds salt to the boiling water. 

“It was a toss up between angel hair or fettuccine… fettuccine won, and I picked up some garlic bread from Enzo’s.” 

“Ohh, you’re spoiling me rotten,” you purr, imagining what you would do to thank him…something involving your favorite part of him and your mouth, “I’ll stop at Bradley’s for some drinks, what are ya thinkin’?”

Steve smiles, putting a dish towel on his shoulder, “surprise me.” 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The church basement reeked of furniture polish, clashing with heavy floral perfume to mask the smell of mildew from a previous heavy rainfall. 

The Women of Fellowship were serving ham on wheat buns with chips and a veggie tray. Their faces planted with a christian sympathy smile as they cut brownies and refilled the punch bowl.  

A bottle of champagne sat chilled in a bath of ice per Mrs. Harrington’s demands. No reason to be so down all day, might as well make it a special occasion! As if the death of her only son wasn’t enough, was too boring for her. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved your plate away as her obnoxious laugh erupts from behind you. Steve’s father telling his colleagues a dirty joke no doubt, his face red from stifling a laugh and the whiskey he clutched in a monogrammed flask. 

“Nellie?” Nancy chirped, adjusting her slim figure to whisper gently across the table your group of friends were sulking at,  “I have some frozen meals my mom and I put together, I can come over tonight and give you the instructions if you’d like?”

Nodding softly you meet her eyes, “Thanks Nance, that’d be really nice.” 

It went silent again, Max fidgeted with her hair, pulling it back in a loose ponytail. Will’s watch beeped but he clicked it off lazily, running his hands down his face. Nobody knew what to say or what to do. What do you say at a friend's funeral? 

“Are they always like this?” Eddie blurts through the quiet, cocking his head towards the Harrington’s. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm slung over the back of an empty chair beside him, his sunglasses were still on, just as they were through the church service and at the gravesite. 

Everyone at the table looks to you, expecting some sort of an explanation, but you simply shrug, “I- I don’t really know them very well.” 

“Steve’s parents?” Nancy questions, “they’re super sweet, when I—”

She stops then her mouth closing with a pop to remember that it probably wasn’t the time to talk about her long ago relationship with Steve at his funeral in front of his current girlfriend. 

“… they uhhh.. they were always nice.” 

It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know. Mostly because you and Steve had never mentioned it to anyone besides Robin. But her words stung, hit your chest like a thousand mad bees. 

You stand on shaky legs, “I need—yeah…” Without giving anything more you walk away, almost taking the table cloth with you from it tangling in your purse. 

“Nellie,” Robin tries, her own eyes swimming with hurt, but you’re already two tables away, squeezing between padded shoulders and hands holding plastic cups of punch, bleary eyed to find anywhere to be but here.

Turns out a broom closet storing Christmas decorations stuffed right with the plastic light-up yard Bethlehem set, was the right place to have a breakdown. 

You were hiding for a solid ten minutes before you heard a soft knock and a quiet ‘Nell?’ And your unladylike sniffling gave you away as you wiped your nose on the blanket swaddling baby Jesus. 

“Rob,” you exhaled annoyingly, “I’m fine, okay? Tell Nance I’m sorry.” But to your surprise it was Eddie.

“Hey.” he says cautiously, clicking the door behind him and leaning against it. 

You looked from him to your shoes and muttered out a soft, “hi.”

“So… Mr. and Mrs. Harrington seem like real big pieces of shit… wow.”

You snort airily fiddling with the run in your stocking, “Yeah, they’re something alright.” 

Eddie slides down the door, sitting with his legs crossed in front of him, exhaling a deep breath,“It’s been a long day,” he finally said.

“I don’t know what to do next.” 

Eddie looks at you confused, and eyes you when you stand abruptly and start pacing around the cramped closet. 

You’re erratic, talking fast and crazed, “I told myself that all I needed to do was just make it to the funeral. Make it through the funeral and…and then I would figure it all out from there! Now here we are— and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do after, Eddie!

“After it’s over? And– when I leave… he’ll still be here in the ground, and I— ” you start to apologize but refrain, “.. I should go.” 

“Talk to me,” Eddie stands to his full height, reaching towards you, just barely grazing your elbow with his fingertips. His voice nearly breaking, “it helps to get it out.” 

You hiccup, and pull away, stumbling over a slew of strung together sentences that you’re barely breathing through to get out. 

 “..’s… shit, he was all I had. My parents are gone, I don’t have any siblings. It’s been… d’ you know that his parents have never approved of me, but Steve he— he fought for me, for us. Without him…I’m alone.” 

Eddie follows you his hands firm your biceps to try to calm you down. “All your friends are here. Robin, Vickie, the kids…” 

His words have no meaning to you, none of it mattered, your pain was demanding to be felt, and frilly words with no merit wouldn’t sugar coat this. “He’s gone, Eddie! He didn’t get to have a second chance he—died!”

He’s level headed but slowly losing his own battle, trying not to break thinking about his luck and the never ending guilt he carried. 

“We were all there, all of us are hurting, Nellie. You can’t shut people out and clam up.” 

You try to wriggle free from him, but he’s stronger, and all you can do is cry, “I— can’t keep going! Not without him!” 

Feeling the weight of survivor's guilt and the agony of never being able to be consoled by Steve again, you break. Sobbing uncontrollably. Eddie’s arms surround you, holding you tight and engulfing your cries with his own tears, and little shushes from his throat. 

“I’m sorry, Nellie. I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t cry— it will take time but you.. we will be okay.” 

His voice is wobbly and his chest shakes as he cries silently grieving for his best friend. With tears running down your cheeks you pull away slightly to see his face. 

In the dim light you can make out that his nose is tinged red, and with unsteady hands you reach up and pry his sunglasses from his face.

His eyes were red, a little swollen from rubbing them and fatigued with lack of sleep. You could kick yourself for not recognizing how hurt he was, how self absorbed you had been. Both of you are crying together, clinging onto each other under the yellow light in that makeshift storage closet. 

Throwing yourself at him, your cheek presses into his chest as you both sob into one another. Meshing your suffering with his. 

His chin is resting on your head, hands wrapped in your hair. Your hands are clutching the opening of his shirt, fingers just barely grazing over his bare chest. Minutes passed and you exhale an exhausted sigh. 

Lifting your face up to tell Eddie that maybe you should get back, your nose brushes against his. And when you both should be moving away, straightening yourself up and wiping your eyes, neither of you pull back. 

Eddie’s breath fans against your cheek, a small shudder on your skin, the emotional hold of the day, his arms wrapped around you it was nice… it felt, good. Without thinking, without acknowledging what you’re doing you tilt your head and line your mouth up with his, pressing your lips to his. 

It’s unexpectedly tender, and what should startle him doesn’t, but all of that sweetness is quickly swallowed by a hunger you had never felt before. 

It’s nothing but grabby hands and needy mouths. His hands go from soft and consoling to roughly working his pants down in the same hastiness- that you’re hauling your dress up.

Eddie grabs you from the crook of your knees as if you’re weightless and shoves you up hard against the wall. Your mouth hangs open in a silent plea as your panties get ripped to the side. Tears are still flowing down your face and if you were to look at him, you’d see that his haven't stopped either. 

It’s desperate the way you’re clutching onto his shoulders. As if every ounce of pain was leaving you with every inch of him. You whimper with each pump of his hips and Eddie is doing the same, holding you impossibly tight, grunting into your ear. 

It’s raw and harsh, the shelves shuddering with the pace of him taking you, and you’re all in, moaning when you’re close. Holding the nape of his neck and wringing his curls as you start to unravel, your nails clawing into him as your mind explodes. 

When you finish, he’s close behind, groaning deep and biting his lip as he shakes violently with his release, pumping all he’s got into you. 

What’s left between you is gasping breaths and tear kissed skin, a set of broken Christmas lights under Eddie’s boot. 

His jacket is still in your clutches when you open your eyes, coming down from a high you clung to stay up on. But the weight of your decision comes crashing down when you realize what you had done.

Regret is painted thick on your face as the realization comes full force. You need to get out of here. What kind of grieving girlfriend were you to have fucked your dead boyfriend’s best friend in a church basement at his funeral. 

A whore is what you are. 

Eddie must have realized what kind of slut you were too because he sets you down and immediately turns away from you, shoving himself back into his pants. 

But, before he can say anything, before he can try to talk you off a cliff— you’re already out of the door, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the horrifying expression twisted onto your face. 

You don’t hear Eddie calling after you, or the way his face turned to fear as you threw open the door, practically sprinting away from him. 

Lucky for you, nobody questioned why you were darting up the basement steps, or why you looked absolutely wrecked. Your keys fumbled in your hands as you unlocked your car, terrified to look back, running from your mistake, from Steve from Eddie.

The road was a dangerous blur on your drive home, your eyes flooding over obscuring stop signs and headlights. Your cheeks were still stained with yours and Eddie’s tears. 

Tears that were shed in grief from the death of your boyfriend, the same ones that stayed on your face as you got fucked in a closet by his best friend. And more tears fell as you tried to comprehend why for the first time since Steve’s death, you felt comfort.

—

[nautls11]

ok but hear me out: riptide x slay the princess (big ol yap sesh and closeups below)

Chip: The Spectre

109, obviously, but also the spectre’s yearning for what once was, wanting back her “freedom” of the life she had before. The parallels between the spectre’s longing and Chip’s longing for his life with the Black Rose Pirates work so well together. Another factor is how Chip needed to learn that he was not alone anymore. He had a crew, friends, captains, siblings. Through his ups and downs, he learned respect, trust, honor, and responsibility; he learned to love again with a fiery passion he had not felt since he sailed alongside Arlin.

“I offer you absolution, and you take my hand in yours.

You felt the pain you caused another, and you were willing to sacrifice everything you thought was you to set me free.

Without sin, there is no redemption.”

“This one is vaporous. She is a dream of a life she could never have, but that longing has given her so much capacity for Kindness. She will make for a yearning heart.

Do not mourn her — she will finally be able to hold What she never knew.”

Jay: The Cage

I was heavily debating between Jay and Gill for this one, but the Cage’s final confrontation is what sold Jay for me. Her constant fear of abandoning her blood family because she has already lost so much (her sister, and soon her mother), that abandoning the last shred of family she has left would be losing everything. It is her inaction which drives much of her conflict, balancing the line between Ferin and pirate, because no matter which side she turns to, she is always afraid, because she always has something to lose. There are times where she feels like she can only watch from afar and see what will happen (especially in the case of lizzie’s war), but she must understand that inaction is most often a deficit. She has proven herself time and time again to others, she just needs to prove it to herself.

“Fear is a chain around the neck and a needle in the eye.

It was fear that made our prison, and it was fear that told the lie that

our spirits were not free to choose.

But together we left it all behind, and found a world free of burdens.

We found the beauty in accepting our dance.

This construct is a machine of fear. It has no place in our divine hearts.

Shatter it. Leave with me.”

“This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes. She will make for a watchful heart.

Do not mourn her. She is now what she wished that she could be.”

Gill: The Drowned Grey

Unlike the others, I couldn’t really find a princess that fit gill as well as the others did, so I decided to do a more specific moment of gill’s story for his princess: his oath of vengeance and dunjon arc.

The Drowned Grey is a story of hurt, loss, and rebirth. Gill loses everything; his friends, his closest companion, and is taken away from the life he once knew to be trapped in an endless white void, to be judged by the apparitions of those who had always judged him before. He is raw, violent emotion, rage being the only way he knows to understand his pain, and thus inflicts it onto others. His actions endangered those who wanted to help him be because all he could process was his loss. And that loss he screamed at the elder’s with his entire soul, only to be swept away in the dark depths of Niklaus’ control. But after the anger, was his rebirth. He was never meant to remain in an endless void for eternity, and Born anew in the eye of a leviathan’s storm, the violence and grief was left behind him in the cold icy storm. He had his catharsis, leaving those demons behind him in the darkest depths.

“I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me.

Hollow eyes watch from the dark corners of a forgotten place flooded by emotions left unspoken. The tide rises.

I kill you and me.

An ending is a passion that can only be expressed with a moment in time. It is a seed for a new beginning. To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life.

And without me, all that's left to do is linger.”

“This one is guarded sorrow. She saw herself as alone but in the end had courage to share with another. She will make for a deep heart.

Do not mourn her - she has finally been heard.”

anyways uhh thanks for coming to my tedtalk, i lowkey wanna do this for other campaigns, currently thinking about prime defenders and the suckening so ye 👍👍

[bangtanintotheroom]

Undershirt, Underskirt (M)

• Pairing: Bang Chan x (F)Reader

• Genre: Idol!AU, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 1.3k

• Summary: Your boyfriend’s Lollapalooza attire leaves you wanting for him more than usual.

• Warnings/themes: Chan’s Lollapalooza fit 🫠, pining, ogling, Y/N being horny on main, making out, riding, semi-clothed sex, unprotected sex (she’s on BC), praise

• Notes: *sighs* Look. I’m not gonna act like there was some deep reason behind writing this. I saw Chan in a tank and went absolutely feral. Like, DISGUSTINGLY FERAL. So I had to get it out of my system somehow 🥲 Funny enough, something like this happened last year with Hobi at Lollapalooza…makes me curious about next year lmao

• Notes (2): Thanks to my demonic tender @minttangerines​ for the beta and encouraging me to go ahead and get my thoughts out on paper! 💕

• Taglist: @jimilter​ @joontied​ @minisugakoobies​ @minttangerines​ @sugalaritae​ @crisle19​ @codeinebelle​ @kookprada​ @saweetspoiled​ @effielumiere​ @m1sss1mp​ @spookyminyunki​

Time was never something that you paid much attention to. You went with the flow with no problem. But right now?

Every second that passed by without your boyfriend walking through that room door was time that was wasted not sitting on his dick.

Your grip on the skirt of your dress tightened when you watched the minutes on the alarm clock change yet again. A low grumble escaped your pursed lips as you stewed in this lonely hotel room.

This was unlike you.

You weren’t some 24/7/365 horny monster who would wither away without a helping of Chan. But you had been witness to an unspeakable sight on the Lollapalooza stage.

The sight of Chan removing his jacket to reveal a white tank underneath paired with a multitude of gold chains.

The light stick you had been holding almost fell with how off-guard you were taken. All the times you had seen him in various states of undress and this was what broke you?

Maybe it was the simplicity of the fit that got to you.

Maybe it was the display of his muscled arms and lightly-tanned skin that affected you.

Maybe it was the fact that you kept seeing his top ride up, showing off the flatness of his lower stomach that sat above those damn leather shorts.

Leather shorts that concealed what you were dying to have in your mouth, hands or pussy right now.

Your thighs rubbed together at the strong wave of pleasure that washed over from the thought.

Okay, maybe it was all on you just being a horny mess.

The clicking of the doorknob had you darting up into a full sitting position now, watching it turn with widened eyes. The door opened to reveal the object of your salacious desires, his tired face lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey baby! Sorry I’m so—”

Your body went on autopilot and bounded down the bed and over to Chan, pouncing on him with your arms wrapped tight around his neck. A sound of exertion left as the weight of you transferred onto him, the force pushing his back into the door. Before he could ask what had gotten into you, you planted your lips on his, the taste of him and his vanilla lip balm only exacerbating your horniness.

It took a few seconds, but he was quick to return your kiss, dropping the bag he held in favor of resting his palms on your ass. But the gentleness of his hold swept away as soon as your tongue came out to part his mouth, long fingers digging into the clothed flesh with intensity.

Damn.

You thought having him in the flesh would ease your pain, but his hard body against your softer one and the scent of his cologne and sweat invading your nostrils only made it worse. There was only one way to fix it.

Pulling away when you were losing breath, you panted, “Please fuck me.”

Chan’s lidded dark eyes opened wide at your plea, still trying to wrap his head around what the fuck was going on.

“Y-Y/N? You good?”

“No, I’m not good. I’ve been wet as an ocean since you were on stage and I need you to help me out.”

Your whining made a low groan leave him, head tipping back against the wood.

“For real?”

Rather than speak, you took one of his hands and slipped it under the hem of your dress. Just the light touch of his fingers brushing against your clothed center had you biting back a whimper, but it was nothing compared to the sharp swear Chan let out.

“The fuck, baby, you’re soaked—”

He ripped that concealed sound out of you by giving your near-throbbing clit a light pinch, making your knees wobble for a moment.

“Can you help me? U-Unless you’re tired…”

Chan straightened the both of you up with his free hand, the look in his eyes speaking volumes.

“Sleep is overrated. Come on.”

Your boyfriend may have denounced slumber earlier, but halfway through the fun, his movements grew a bit slower. Not wanting to exert him any further, you guided him to recline against the headboard and let you take over. The grateful smile he gave was more than enough to make your night.

Well, that and being able to finally sit on his dick like you so desperately wanted.

“Is this really all because of my outfit?”

A huff left you at his inquiry, one hand sliding down from his damp shoulder to give the tank top he still adorned a light tug.

“Yes, babe. Why do you sound so shocked?”

Chan chuckled, biting back a groan as you gave a clench. “Nah, I just don’t get to see you like this often. I like it.”

Now you giggled, leaning forward to press your nose against his.

“Do you?”

A sudden thrust from him interrupted your riding.

“Yeah.”

The moan you let out ended up bringing another stroke from him, forcing your hand to go back to holding him for support. His own roamed over your body, rubbing and gripping in multiple areas that made your blood run hot.

“This plus what you’ve got on? You’re lucky I didn’t run off the stage.”

You laughed at his scenario, knowing damn well he wouldn’t risk such a maneuver.

While you had requested Chan to keep his upper torso clothed (no point in keeping on the ripped shorts), he came in with one of his own, asking if he could just push your dress out of the way. You had no qualms against that, allowing him to tug the hem to gather around your waist while he slid your panties down and off your legs. So what if you were sweating a little more than usual because of the fabric?

That’s what showers were for.

One was definitely going to be necessary after the day the two of you had and the current act that was making everything between your moving bodies sticky and slippery.

After some time, every action on both of your ends led to your riding getting faster and off-beat and his occasional thrusts to become more frequent. It didn’t help when Chan buried his face into your neck, thick voice rumbling against your wet skin, “Gonna make me come if you keep this up, babygirl—”

Surely he could feel the tremble that rocked your entire body.

“Good.”

You gave him little time to prepare after your reply, doing a certain move with your hips that always pushed him to the edge quickly. This time was no exception, Chan’s noises of bliss increasing in pitch until a guttural groan silenced them, feeling him grab your hips to bury himself as he twitched and filled you up with his come. You were able to go against his grip a bit to roll your hips enough to give your clit some stimulation, allowing you to achieve your own orgasm as well.

You could feel Chan laying nips and kisses all over your neck as you shook, followed close with endless praise that made your pussy give clenches that forced his speech to pause. A sense of pride washed over you at how it pulled a few more spurts from him, adding to the heat that coated your walls.

As soon as you slumped onto him, he shifted your bodies so he was laid flat with you directly on top, toned arms holding you tight.

“All better now?”

A hum of content came from you as you snuggled into his chest, your overheated cheek enjoying the cool metal of his chains.

“Much better.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2023. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[biibini]

Yoyoyooo, Im literally obsessed w ur headcanons. How do you like the idea Mizu/reader first nighttt together (nsfw??)

modern!mizu x reader - first night together

tags: SUGGESTIVE, cuddling, making out, first time spending the night, gentle making out, soft, fluff, first night, comfort, soft mizu, modern au, modern mizu x reader

a/n: im so behind with my asks :( but my friend found my tumblr acc so hiiiii yk who u are im typing this out while i was texting u last night hehe

modern!mizu would be the one to ask u to sleep over

it wouldn't be meticulously planned

but hinted

typically, u would just come over and watch netflix, cook, maybe play a game or just study together before she walks u to ur dorm

mizu had hoped to maybe ask u to spend the night much earlier

but the fear of moving too fast in a relationship due to her previous relationship with [redacted] held her back

so she never had the nerve to ask

until one night rolls around

and the stars align

ringo went to visit his family for the weekend

u come over to finish a show on netflix, cuddling as per usual

its late at night and ur start to doze off

The final moments of The Great British Bakeshow play on the TV screen. You hear the judges give their final score as you slowly drift to sleep. Mizu doesn't notice how sleepy you are.

Not until your head suddenly rests on her arm.

"Y/N?"

You hum in response, internally struggling against the sleepiness. Mizu turns to get a closer look at your face to find your eyes shut, fighting to stay open. Normally, she would try to wake you up and walk you home to your dorm.

That is what normally happens.

Normally, she wouldn't be wrapping her arm closer to you. Normally, she wouldn't let your head rest against her chest.

Normally, she wouldn't let you stay a little longer.

But tonight, the stars aligned. Ringo was gone to visit his family for his cousin's birthday. Akemi was on a girl's trip with her hometown friends. Taigen was out of town for a basketball tournament.

No one could bother them.

Not tonight.

Definitely not tomorrow.

"How about you stay over tonight?", Mizu says softly. Her hand caresses your left side, hoping for her invitation to be accepted.

Oh.

The thought of staying over had popped into your mind a few several times. You never chased the idea. Besides, it would be rude of you to ask when it wasn't even your own place.

But now, the question was laid right in front of you.

You look up to answer to find Mizu looking down at you, staring at you with those piercing blue eyes. Your smile widens, accepting the invitation with a nod.

"I'll stay.", you respond.

externally, ur keeping it cool

internally, ur freaking tf out

u and mizu have been going out for a few weeks

but staying over the night? not quite yet

modern!mizu would also try to keep her cool

from ur perspective, she looks relaxed

but from her point of view, a part of her was anxious

it wasn't the fear of moving too fast

it was the fact that it was ur first time sleeping together

u guys have SLEPT together

but that would only happen when ringo wasn't home

there wasn't a lonely night

at least

not until tonight

Her hands hold onto yours, gently pulling you into the bedroom. It looked unusual in the moonlight as opposed to the familiar daylight version of the room.

"You can go wash up first. I'll find some pajamas for you.", she says reassuringly.

As you walk into the bathroom, Mizu searches for something suitable for you to wear. She hears the shower run behind the door as she scrambles for something. Anything.

She knew she didn't have actual pajamas. Her sleepwear is just filled with old T-shirts and mismatched shorts or pants. Her hunt leaves her with an oversized t-shirt from Ringo's previous workplace at Hen-Oh Ramen, a chicken ramen chain store, and blue pajama shorts. That place didn't last long after the owner was found stealing the broth recipe from their competitor.

Mizu knocks on the door.

"Hey, may I come in? I have your clothes."

"Yeah, come in!", you yell from the shower.

after u change into the borrowed pjs, u come out

mizu is just chilling in bed on her phone

drinking her chamomile tea

trying to distract herself from the thought of u in her clothes

ur pretty figure in her pjs...

u join her under the sheets

and she gets a glimpse of u

modern!mizu totally didnt short circuit

and sip a little too much and end up coughing on her drink

kinda spilled a little on her shirt

u go into the bathroom to get paper towels and help clean up

You crawl onto the bed with a few paper towels in hand. As you get closer to Mizu and her tea-stained shirt, you sit atop of her leg. You hand a paper towel to her. On the other hand, you're patting down the stains.

The chamomile tea stains are spread all over her chest and stomach. They're not piping hot but a little too warm for comfort. As you continue to pat along the stains, you inch down her lower chest to her stomach. You pat against the damp fabric and feel her stomach. It's a little soft but the harder you press, the harder it becomes to the touch.

In awe, you continue your job as you pat further along her-hard stomach. You fail to realize her face is flaring a bright shade of red against her pale skin.

"Y/N?", you look up to meet her ocean blue eyes softly gazing into yours.

They were still the same ol' blue you always admire. However, this time they looked warm. An ocean during the sunset with its gentle waves crashing into the shore.

"I got it. Just-", she says as she gently grabs the paper towel you used on the bedrest next to her.

Her arms spread wide open. She places her hands on your hips.

"C'mere.", she smiles as she gently caresses your sides.

"But the stains-"

"Don't worry about them."

You feel her hands slowly caress further up your sides. Her hands ghost over your breasts, almost cupping them. You push yourself closer to her and shift your legs over the sides of her legs. She smiles in response to your new position.

"It's an old T-shirt.", she reassured.

Still slightly anxious about spending the first night together, she recognized two decisions that could be made. One, make you comfortable and sleep well tonight. Two, make you COMFORTABLE comfortable and sleep later tonight.

Her left hand finds its way down to your hips, caressing the area. As for her right hand, you feel the callouses brush along your neck. They make their way to your soft cheeks, now a pinkish-red tint from the intimate position.

"It'll be okay. But you on the other hand...", Mizu inches closer to your face as she gently pulls you closer. Her thumb softly caresses your lips, feeling how soft and plump they are. Her touch makes your brain go crazy for her touch.

Is it needy of you? Yes.

The fact that she's just softly kissing you on your first night spent together is making your mind shortcircuit with every kiss.

But the feeling of her soft lips against you is warm and plush. Comforting. Your eyes flutter close as her left arm wraps around your lower back, closing the gap between the two of you. As you continue to kiss Mizu, you feel her body shift up and allow her back to rest against the headboard.

Each kiss becomes softer. An occasional needy kiss here and there from her. But for the most part, her lips become a deeper shade of red from your contact. You feel her right hand drag closer to your ear, her fingers teasing your neck.

You groan as Mizu comes closer for another kiss, now with more force on your swollen lips. Her grip around your lower back tightened, fighting to pull you even closer to her. Every touch and kiss heightens your sensitivity. A familiar warmth starts to grow in your lower stomach.

Mizu loosens her grip and starts kissing from your cheeks and down your neck. You feel her lips gently kiss your neck, tickling you with every touch. As she works towards the side of your neck, a moan slips out.

"I guess we have a long night ahead of us.", Mizu teased as she smiled tenderly at you.

"Mizu!", you say jokingly, retaliating against the idea.

She wasn't wrong though.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle.", she comforts you, sealing the deal with a kiss.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Search and Rescue

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Sam and Dean’s 6 year old little sister gets kidnapped by demons

“Hey N/N, we’re back!”

Dean’s words echoed through the empty motel room, and no answer came.

“Y/N? Honey, where are you?” Sam asked, doing a quick scan of the room. “She’s not here.”

“What?” Dean demanded, dropping his duffel bag and double-checking the small room.

“Dean, over here.” Sam’s eye had caught sight of something strange by the window.

Dean stepped up beside him and gritted his teeth.

“Sulfur.”

“What now?” Sam asked. “We’ve been gone for hours, who knows how long she’s been missing?” The boys almost never left you alone in a motel, but they’d just left for the morning to interview some survivors of what looked like a haunting.

“Now we find those demons and bring her back,” Dean growled, snatching up the demon knife and his bag before heading out to Baby.

“So no plan? Great,” Sam huffed, but followed his brother regardless.

…

Meanwhile, you were in the next state over from your brothers, having been grabbed from your bed and thrown into the back of a van. You were currently chained up in a dark room, and you couldn’t make out more than a few feet in front of you. Your shackles were connected by a short chain to the ground, so you couldn’t take more than one step before they stopped you. You sat on the floor, your wrists raw from your attempts to free them. You gave up pretty quickly, it hurt too much and you were just too scared of what the demons would do if they saw you trying to escape.

One of them had already hit you, and you still didn’t know what they wanted. All you knew was that you had never been this far away from Sam and Dean, and you didn’t know what to do.

…

Two weeks. It took two weeks before the boys finally caught a break, and they were able to track demon activity that was mere hours from where you’d been taken.

Dean had never driven Baby so fast in his life.

Neither brother was willing to bring up the biggest likelihood; that you were already dead. After all, if the demons had kept you alive this long, why hadn’t they tried to contact the brothers for an exchange or something?

But this logical path was not one either boy was willing to go down, not yet or ever.

…

“I spot six, but there could be more inside,” Sam reported as he watched the warehouse for demon activity.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean said, opening his door.

“Hold on, Dean we need a plan,” Sam insisted.

“I have a plan,” Dean replied before stepping out of the car and slamming his door shut.

“Get her back.”

…

You were used to hearing screams from where you sat in your little prison. The only difference this time was, that these weren’t your own.

You found the strength to lift your head wearily when the door to your prison scraped open, but you turned away instantly when the light from the other side nearly blinded you.

Involuntary whimpers escaped your lips when you heard the scratch of footsteps against the stone floor, getting inevitably closer. You cried out hands grabbed the sides of your face, and you struggled to get away.

“Hey, hey, Y/N it’s me!”

You froze, instantly recognizing the voice. Also, you noticed that the hands on you weren’t rough; he was cradling your face.

You blinked your eyes open, squinting against the light to see your big brother Sam.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. All you could do was cry in relief as Sam picked the lock on your chains. The moment you were free, Sam had you in his arms, rubbing your back and whispering soothing reassurances in your ear.

“Y/N.” You looked up to see Dean standing in the doorway, relief lightening his features before he stiffened again. “C’mon, Sam we’ve got to get her out of here, there might be more.” Dean crouched a bit to look at you. “Baby, can you walk? We gotta go.”

You shook your head with a whimper, clinging onto Sam for all you were worth.

“It’s ok, I’ve got her,” Sam reached a hand to his belt to grab the demon knife. “You take this, lead us out of here.”

The three of you reached the Impala with minimal disruption, and you clung to Sam the whole way.

Sam didn’t bother trying to put you in the back seat, he just got into the passenger’s seat and sat you on his lap.

Dean started the car without a word, glancing anxiously around for any more demons as he sped off.

“Is she ok?” Dean demanded once he was sure you weren’t being followed.

“Give her a minute,” Sam said quietly, still trying to sooth you as you trembled in his arms.

“Sam, I need to know if she’s hurt,” Dean said as he white-knuckled the steering wheel, glancing at you every few seconds.

“Sweetheart,” Sam spoke softly as he pulled you back slightly so he could look at you. “Did they hurt you?”

You squirmed in his arms, trying to get closer to him. You nodded, and he relented, letting you squeeze closer to him.

“Where?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

You didn’t respond.

“Honey, you can talk to me,” Sam said.

“I didn’t,” you mumbled.

“What?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t talk,” you said, and you started to shake even more in Sam’s arms. His heart broke at the sound of your cries as you struggled to speak. “They-they tried to make me-make me talk, but I didn’t.”

Sam’s haunted eyes met Dean’s. Their six-year-old little sister was tortured by demons for information, and she didn’t give in to protect them. Guilt didn’t even begin to describe what the brothers were feeling.

“What did they do?” Dean was struggling to get control of himself.

“They had a big knife,” you whimpered. You didn’t say anything more, and the brothers didn’t try to make you.

Sam carried you inside when you got to the motel, and Dean instructed Sam to find you some food while he checked your wounds. The last thing Sam wanted to do was leave your side again, but one look at your malnourished frame convinced him.

Dean peeled your sweat-soaked, torn, bloody clothes from your skin. He wet a washcloth with warm water and started to clean the blood off of you with a gentle touch, paying close attention to when you flinched or whimpered.

As soon as you were relatively clean, Dean grabbed disinfectant from the first aid kid and went to work on the many cuts scattered across your body. He was struggling to contain his rage with every new cut he found, but he knew that he had to to keep from scaring you even further.

You didn’t say a word while Dean worked, you just watched him with wide eyes, as if you still couldn’t believe he was there.

“Baby I’m so sorry,” Dean said finally. “We never should’ve left you alone.”

You seemed to mull his words over for a moment before disregarding them. You hadn’t even thought for a moment to blame your big brothers for the scary demons hurting you.

“De, did I miss Sammy’s birthday?” You asked instead, and Dean looked taken aback.

“Uh…no kiddo, it’s in a couple of days.”

“Can we get him a pie?” You asked hopefully.

Dean just nodded, unsure of how to deal with the change in conversation. The motel room once again fell silent as Dean carefully stitched up a couple of your worse cuts. He hated himself the whole time, especially when he saw how hard you tried—in vain—to keep from crying.

“All done,” he finally breathed, and he couldn’t tell who was more relieved; you or him. He helped you get changed into some clean clothes before letting you get settled in his lap. He held you close, just as unwilling as you were to let go.

He hadn’t even noticed that he’d started humming until he saw that you had stopped crying, soothed by the sound.

“I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you again,” Dean promised.

“I know,” you said with so much confidence that it reassured Dean almost as much as you.

“Hey guys,” Sam greeted quietly as he returned to the motel room. “How we doing?”

“I’m sleepy,” you mumbled.

“Do you think you can eat some of this before you sleep?” Sam asked, pulling out a takeout container of soup.

You nodded and let Sam carry you to the table before taking the spoon he offered.

“We should try to get her strength back up,” Sam said to Dean as the two watched you.

“With that?” Dean scoffed. “Get her some meat.”

“I wanted to start off with something light, since we don’t know when the last time she ate was,” Sam argued. That shut Dean up, as he imagined you locked in that tiny little room, starving.

“Can I go to sleep now?” You asked, and Sam stepped up and was surprised to see that you’d eaten nearly half of the soup.

“You bet, honey. You did good,” he praised, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to his bed.

You were asleep within minutes, and Dean settled himself on the very edge his own bed so that he could still be close to you and Sam.

“She asked if she missed your birthday,” Dean said quietly as he watched your stomach move up and down with your breaths. “She wants to get a pie.”

Sam smiled at you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“She always did love birthdays.”

“We can never slip up like that again,” Dean’s tone was suddenly serious. “She deserves so much better.”

“I know,” Sam kept his eyes on you, unable to look at his brother. Both boys were blaming themselves.

“Hey,” Dean sat up when he saw you start to twitch. “Is she—“

“No,” you whimpered, and your body started to squirm. “No, don’t!”

“Sweetheart, hey,” Sam reached his hand up and shook your shoulder. “Kid wake up.”

“No!” You cried, awakening with a start that almost had you falling off the bed. Sam held you in his arms to keep you steady.

“Easy, it’s ok honey. N/N I’m right here, I’m here.”

“Sammy?” You whimpered as you relaxed against his hold.

“Yeah, it’s me. Shh, it’s ok,” he soothed, rubbing your back as you began to cry.

“Here.” Dean reached for you, and Sam reluctantly gave you up to your oldest brother. “Hey, you’re ok baby, it’s Dean. How about you go back to sleep, ok? Me and Sammy are gonna chase away the bad dreams for you, how does that sound?”

You nodded, sniffling.

“Yeah, good.” Dean cradled your head in his hand, holding you close. “If you have another nightmare, I’m gonna be right here for you.”

“Ok,” you sniffled, relaxing once again. It only took a few short minutes before you were asleep in Dean’s arms, and the brothers relaxed at the peaceful cadence of your breaths.

“She’s ok,” Dean breathed, and Sam didn’t know who he was trying to reassure. Sam just nodded.

“She will be.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

[socksracoon10]

The Banter of Thieves

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader

Jack Sparrow was by no means your friend. He wasn't even an acquaintance. His mere presence irked you, caused you to vomit overboard and wipe the drool that dabbled your chin as you spat out the lovely painting your stomach decided to spew out. The entire Caribbean sea knew better than to mess with you; you were the jewel of the ocean, the only woman to have stood for so long on your feet without ever backing down. Once your crew was outnumbered by the British officers, but you bravely traversed the seas and implied that you had more guts than your opponents. Another instance was when you managed to have stolen an artifact aboard a merchant ship that costed you a good fortune. You were the talk of Tortuga for weeks on end - added to that were rounds of free rum with jealous ladies and ecstatic men surrounding your presence.

So it was of to no surprise that upon hearing your name being tossed around like a ball, Jack Sparrow would've felt a little bit of resentment. Well, not a little - it was a LOT. He was devastated, he was hurt. How could the people trample around singing your name when HE was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow! THE Captain Jack Sparrow of THE Black Pearl! He couldn't handle it. He just couldn't sit there and watch you swinging your arms around with the other pirates, gleefully cheering on your success. Drink after drink, he noticed the amount of rum you were being passed. Some men forced a glass to you, and though you politely declined, he noticed the way you'd give in after the third persistent person chimed in with a 'please' and there the rum would go down. It would cascade down your neck, around your breasts and find itself sloshed on the ground; Jack hated it. He hated to see the sight of pure, good rum being wasted away like that. 

When you were passed out, slouched against a sturdy chair with the glass still in your hand, Jack had tip-toed to where you sat and stood over your sleeping form. You weren't a hideous creature; he'd seen much worse on his escapades. In his mind, he couldn't fathom to understand how a girl as beautiful and intelligent such as yourself could have the nerve to be a pirate and go against him? Him? Ugh, it made his blood curl at the thought. In any other circumstances, he would've tried to woo you or played some sort of game, but clearly those options were out the window. His eyes cast over to you once again, and he caught onto the tiny sliver of shimmering gold tucked away in your shirt against your bosom. Pursing his lips together, he grabbed a small dagger and carefully used the blade to hook onto the gold's chain; despite being a pirate, he still had SOME manners. Not all of them for a gentlemen, but at least enough so that he wouldn't have to be slapped by the rest of the women on Tortuga. Two was enough for him at the moment. Lifting the chain up into the air, his eyes flickered onto you for a brief moment; you stirred in your sleep, but not too much to indicate that you might be awake. He sighed in relief, holding the chain to the light as his eyes followed the path down to an intricately designed key. He narrowed his eyes at the design pattern, noticing a fresh emblem with the letters "C.D." inscribed. His eyes widened, bringing it closer to him. No, he couldn't believe it. How did she manage to find the key for The Cure of the Dead? Impossible! He pocketed the key, grabbing the glass of rum from her as she whined in her sleep. Chugging it down, he let out a hiss as the liquid flowed down his throat and marched out of the tavern with a new mission set on his mind.

"I'm going to cut off that dirty bastard's prying fingers," You growled, seated firmly in the cabin of your ship; when you had woken up after, you already knew what must've happened when the gold chain was missing and you cursed every God that existed in your mind to help you find Sparrow before he'd get his filthy, grubby hands on what you had desired. The Cure was no simple thing - no, it was not a simple little vial or a chest of wealth - it was much more. There was a certain ritual that was foretold in the legend; the one soul, after giving up four equal drops of blood, would be able to pursue the path of immortality and greatness. Your father had spent ages pillaging and tormenting anyone who proved to be an obstacle just to find the key. And now, under your possession - or well, was under your possession - you were extremely keen on protecting your father's legacy through the key, anxious to seek the glory in honor of your fearless father. At the present moment, that dream was starting to sink faster than a ship caught in a whirlpool thanks to the lovely Captain Jack Sparrow himself.

A few days had passed among the seas and your crew had slowly abandoned your ship, one by one. They knew it was going to be a very tiresome journey, but you should've known better that the slightest inconvenience would have them scuttling away back to their mummies. You cursed at them as they rowed away, swearing to enact your revenge one day if they ever dared to return to your captaincy. Your eyes shifted from them to the large island approaching your ship. You noticed another ship seated on the shore, some crewmen walking about the deck or on the sandy land. Assuming this was Jack's crew, you managed to park your vessel besides them and leaned over the deck to bellow,

"Oi! Is that Gibbs I see there?" 

The old man swiftly turned at the mention of his name, narrowing his eyes at you with a scowl.

"Aye it be, Captain (L/N)," He rolled his eyes, nudging Raggetti whose bulging eyes seemed to seep right through you. Grimacing at the sight of the skeleton-like man, you climbed down onto the beach shore and dug your hands in your pockets.

"Where is that scoundrel?" You snapped, marching forward as a hand rested on the hilt of your sword. Gibbs scoffed, 

"Bit of a strong word to use there, love," He paused for a moment, rubbing his nose before looking at you, "But if you must know, he went through the trees himself."

"Nobody else with him?" 

"Nobody else."

"Well, then, after I acquire what is rightfully man, you all will very much be welcome aboard my ship." You grinned, scanning Jack's crew.

"But we've already got ourself a captain," Raggetti scorned to which you quickly added,

"Not after I'm through with Jack, you won't."

You left the gaping faces behind as you marched into the leafy forest ahead of you. Stepping over a few roots, you noticed a distinct imprint on the mud just a few inches from where you stood; the fool must've slipped and fell on his own face. With a guttural groan, you pushed through and followed the signs among your surroundings, the very same that your father used to tell you. Remembering his tales comforted you immensely, and you wished he was here to see his little girl all grown up and ready to see the treasure he had wished for so long. He would be proud of her, he would've loved her. He would've... surely not expected to see Jack Sparrow stuck between the branches of a tree.

"Jack?" You cocked your head to the side, stepping around the tree to see his face. His features were all scrunched up as he tugged his body to the best of his ability against the branches.

"Those stupid roots!" He exclaimed in a muffled tone. He cried out in exasperation, continuing to tug himself as much as he could before shrieking, "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

You stepped forward, just about ready to push his face out but you caught yourself, hands still in the air as you raised an eyebrow, "Give me the key first, and then I shall help you."

Upon hearing your words, Jack huffed out in annoyance, "Darlin', I think there's something more important here than your stupid key. Help me, first."

"No," You hissed, "You give me the key, and then I'll help you." You extended your arm out, beckoning for him to hand over your prized possession. Jack glared at you, muttering some cursed under his breath; you could've sworn he had said "that insufferable wench" and you scowled at him.

"Listen, love... darling... sweetheart," He groaned between tugs, "If you help me, I swear I'll hand over the key to you."

"You swear? You swear on your ship?" You prodded, and unbeknownst to you, he crossed his fingers behind his back,

"Of course! Of course, my love! N-Now just g-get me out of this stupid mess!" He seethed. You rolled up your sleeves, and placed your palms against his face, beginning to apply pressure.

"Ow... ow, ow, ow, ow, that's my precious face! You're gonna mush my skull in!" Jack screamed, and your blood boiled at his ungratefulness, causing you to begin pushing harder. You tuned out his cries of pain, finally released him from the stockade-like tree, and watched him howl and roll around the dirt. You kicked the side of his body, extending your hand out again for the key. He groaned as he sat up, taking your hand to lift him off the ground.

"You idiot!" You hissed, swatting his hand away, "I want the key!"

Jack blinked a few times, biting the inside of his cheek, "And here I really thought you'd care for me."

Standing back up on his feet, he noticed the way your gaze never faltered on him. He gave a disgusted expression towards you, sauntering off towards the cave opening with a determined mission on his mind. He paused, looking back at you with your open hand for a brief moment, before instantly picking up his pace. Screaming in anger, you charged after him and hopped onto his back, tugging his locks of hair as he shrieked in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Off, off! Look, women aren't meant to pull on my hair unless we're laying in bed together!" Jack hollered.

"I'm a pirate, you oaf, I can do as I please!" You bellowed, tugging harder and steering him away from the cave opening's keyhole. He stumbled backward and stood still for a moment trying to process something in his head,

"You mean to tell me you're not a woman?" He asked in a genuine tone of voice, before gasping loudly, "You deceitful bastard! You mean to tell me you're a filthy bugger impersonating a female?"

"Are you stupid?" You snarled, completely flabbergasted by his words. Not only was he the most aggravating pirate you'd ever met, but currently while on his back, he was definitely the stupidest one you'd ever come across. Jack trudged forward, trying his best to ignore the sharp pain of his hair practically ripping off his scalp as he shoved the key into its designated home. You cried out in frustration, watching the cave slowly open to reveal the circular stage under the beam of light. Upon seeing the glory in front of you, your head poked around his hair and leaned forward, completely in awe of its beauty. 

"You know, you can get off me back now," Jack smirked, turning his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of you. You shut your gaping mouth and hopped off him, dusting yourself of any of his filth as you walked past him. It was almost a dance in the way you blocked his path towards the light, your back facing him as your foot extended outwards and your body swayed.

"Don't be a child," Jack mumbled, stepping back and forth as he tried to find a way around you.

"Shut up, you don't even understand the value of this discovery. My father had spent ages-" You began before being cut off,

"Oh, the same old wishy-washy, swishy-swashy story. We know the legend, we know the journey (Y/N)," Jack yawned, "Your father was a thief for stealing that from Davy Jones."

"Thief? He was a pirate, if anyone's a thief you're the thief! You stole it from me when I was asleep!" You roared. Jack chuckled at your answer when you turned to face him,

"Pirate," He gestured to himself, with his eyebrows raising in the process, "It's part of the job description. And now you're a thief for wanting to steal what's mine... especially after the hell you just put me through," He moaned, rubbing his scalp, gently.

"It's mine." You hissed.

"No, it's mine," Jack stated, pointing to the circular stage.

"Mine."

"Nope, still mine, darlin'."

"You buffoon! It's mine! I get to be immortal, not you!"

"Eh, I've escaped death more times than you have, it's definitely mine, love."

"MINE!"

"Oi, don't raise your voice at me. My ears are a bit sensitive," Jack raised a finger, "Still mine, though."

"IT'S MINE, JACK!"

"Now you're just actin' like a child, be a lady... if you even are one," He raised an eyebrow with a suspicious look on his face. That was it, you couldn't take this banter any longer. You lunged forward, tackling him onto the stage as his head scraped against the rocky material. He groaned in pain as he thrashed around, rolling over you. Your elbows brazed against the ground under you and you hissed in pain before grabbing onto Jack's neck and dragging him under you.

As the fighting ensued, you both were completely oblivious to the drops of blood that seeped into the cracks beneath you. You tossed a punch at his jaw as he pulled your hair roughly. The opening of the wall behind you two was overshadowed by the insults that were thrown around with the occasional scream tossed into the mix. It wasn't until the light above you shifted towards the treasure chest meters away did the both of you stopped fighting; you lay on top of him, your head snapping towards the direction of the light as he did the same.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Jack asked, frowning.

"I-I don't know. I never really thought I'd get this far." You replied, trying to make out the sudden shift of the light. In an instant, Jack shoved you off him and bolted towards the chest. His fingers wriggled excitedly as he had a playful smirk on his face. He wrapped his hands around the edges of the chest and brought it open, only to find a small sheet of paper with instructions. That was a whole lot of build-up to nothing.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed your unconscious form slouched against a stone. He winced at the sight, carefully walking over to you. He must've shoved you too hard against the rocky stone when he flew to the chest. He glanced back down to the instructions in his hand, before looking back up to you. He took a deep sigh, realizing what he had to do.

When you had woken up, you found your head bandaged firmly. You lay on a small hammock as Gibbs stood before you.

"Aye, you aren't too much of a bad shape. It's a lucky thing Jack managed to bring you in like that." Gibbs smiled, his fingers brushing against your head. You rolled your eyes,

"Let me guess. He must've taken the treasure and run off, didn't he? He must have immortality and the greatest glory to ever exist." You seethed, crossing your arms.

"What? No. Lassie, he left you a little note before venturing off on his own to Tortuga. He's entrusted you to be Captain of the ship for the time being." Gibbs exclaimed, holding a note for you to see, "There's more to this whole shenanigan than just immortality. Apparently both your bloods were combined at the cave... meaning you both are one soul. He's gone off to search for more clues. In the meantime he wants you to rest. He seemed rather worried when we were fixing you up, and kept asking questions as to if you'd be alright or not."

Your mouth slightly parted at Gibbs' words, completely in disbelief. "He was probably making sure I was alright to ensure he'd get his share of the treasure."

"Oh, it was more than that, love," Gibbs winked at you, "I'm sure of it. I've never seen Jack like that around any other woman. Now, enough with me rambling, get your rest. You'll be having lots of more adventures with Jack Sparrow soon."

And with that, he left you with the note and you couldn't help but somehow feel your mind slowly consider Jack Sparrow as more than a thief, more than an acquaintance... and certainly more than a friend.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Tears to Shed

This is based on Tears to Shed from the Corpse Bride. Where Alastor accidentally marries the reader. The only problem is Alastor doesn't want to marry anyone. TW: Angst, Hurt, Sorrow, Illusions to Suicide but you can't die in hell unless it's angelic steel; Alastor is well Alastor, Mimzy is Alastors partner in this. <I am open to writing a part 2 if yall like this> @willowaudreykeyes helped me edit!

The day Alastor slipped the ring onto your finger seemed to shake the whole world with the weight of fated lovers. He was a striking figure, with caramel skin glinting beneath the sun, eyes alight, and a vigorous appetite for power and immortality. But beneath the surface, a shadow lingered: his heart was not free but tied to Mimzy, that star of the city, resplendent with the possibilities of influence and status among humans.

But in that very moment, as your eyes caught the gleam of the ring, you could almost think he chose you. You were, after all, wearing his ring, and he had said those vows with such passion as if some unseen force bound your destinies. 

But then time unraveled, and the truth trickled in like a cold, silent mist: Alastor wanted neither you nor Mimzy. He wanted to be free and live a life unencumbered by chains called commitment. He wanted power and to be feared above all others in his realm.

You had been heartbroken, perched up on the roof of a falling building in Hell, looking out at the fire spreading to the horizon. Never a fan of red and black, you'd always enjoyed blue and silver. The licks of flames danced like lost souls, taunting your self-worth.

You did, indeed, feel the gravity of your life in that moment-the corpse bride, once a loving beauty, now a demon cloaked by yearning and solitude: Alastor had brought one spark of hope into your heart only to cast it down into the dark. The pain of betrayal and the weight of your new existence as a demon were crushing you, threatening to consume the last remnants of your humanity.

You remembered that cold, starless night when he slid the ring onto your finger. For the beat of a moment, you were complete, while today, you are the broken pieces of what you once were: a beautiful woman full of life and a longing to be loved. But now, the truth stared you in the face: he was trapped, and you were the specter haunting his every step, it would appear.

You'd found Alastor begging for Mimzy's help only hours before. The scene had played like an echo in your mind, a foreign sound that twisted your insides. You'd seen it in his eyes, heard it in the shake of his voice. Beneath the bluster of a power-hungry fool, he was just a man desperate to be free of the tethers of a promise he had never wanted to make. And you, you were the one who had been used as a pawn in their twisted game of power and love.

As the reality fell in your heart like ashes, your friends emerged from the shadows: Nero, the imp, and Arianna, the succubus. Their loyalty to you puts a soothing wave over your spirit of fire and ice. They pressed themselves against your sides, the heat from their bodies contrasting with the chill of your skin and the despair that began to wrap around you as time passed.

They stared at the scene before you, knowing this was their doing. Had they not encouraged you to keep Alastor in your life, to guide and mentor you in a fantasy of mortals and demons in love, you wouldn't be like this on the brink of unleashing your powers on all of Hell once again, just as you had on the day you had died.

"What does that wispy little brat have that you don't have double?" Nero's voice was soft yet managed to cut through the fog in your brain. The gentle touch of his hand to yours was akin to a lifeline for a moment.

Arianna leaned in, her eyes aglow with wild affection. "She can't hold a candle to the beauty of your smile!" she said, in words that were an attempt at stitching the pieces of your heart together.

"Yeah, how about a pulse?" You snorted, the venom of bitterness thick in your voice as you stared at the fiery scene below your chosen hideout. You just felt like an antique compared with the sweet Mimzy.

"Overrated by a mile!" Nero chipped in, his voice light yet grave, as he sat by your side with a mutual understanding of the pain you are experiencing.

"Overfed!" Arianna cut in with a snort, her tail flicking in outrage.

"Overblown!" Nero exclaimed, with echoes of laughter resounding around the darkening space. Then he turned to Arianna, who nodded with full vigor. For a moment, their eyes shone with playfulness as they looked at you, hope alighting in their pupils.

"If he only knew the you that we know," they chorused in unison, gripping your hands tight. Their faces held pride with a touch of pain, but they held steady on one thing: their unity in support of you.

Arianna played with the ring on your left hand, smirking with mischief and love. "And the little silly creature isn't wearing his ring!"

Nero playfully elbowed you. "And she doesn't play piano!"

"Or dance or sing! No, she doesn't compare!" they chortled, their voices rising like some haunting melody.

But the shadows of doubt clung to you like a second skin. "But she still breathes air," you muttered; the weight of your reality fell again.

"Who cares?" they chorused, still enthusiastic, though you knew they were growing tired of your self-doubt.

"Unimportant!" Nero insisted, scrambling onto your shoulder, his small frame reassuring.

“Overblown!" Arianna echoed with whimsical reassurance, wrapping her tail gently around your arm.

"If only he could see how special you can be. If only he knew you that we know," they said in one accord, a mantra to which you were no longer sure you believed.

You stood, peeling yourself gently from the tangle of friends. Your undead eyes threatened to spill over with tears as you swayed on the precipice of despair, humming a mournful tune. Closer to the edge of the building you sat atop, the seductive allure of the fall whispered promises of nothing, for you could not die here.

"If I touch a burning candle, I can feel no pain. If you cut me with a knife, it's still the same." You flourish the blade hidden in your garter, the cold steel calling to your mind your immortality. The use of it on Alastor flashed across your mind a spark of the most dangerous kind. You chase the thought away, turning back to your lament. The struggle between your desire for revenge and your lingering love for Alastor was tearing you apart, threatening to push you over the edge of sanity.

"And I know her heart is beating, and I know that I am dead. Yet the pain here that I feel, please try and tell me it's not real." You turned your gaze to your friends, their faces dimly lit by the firey light of hell, then fell back from the rooftop, landing softly within a coffin overflowing with blue and silver roses, the delicate petals wrapping you in a sorrow growing only larger by the minute.

"And yet, it would seem I still have a tear to shed." Your eyes, no longer shining bright, now blazed with the bitter salt of lost love, lost on the one with whom you had believed you shared. Yet time was a thief and saved little space for sorrow. Nero and Arianna were already down to your level, their eyes afire with determination in jarring contrast with the despair flooding your heart.

Nero was first to huddle beside you, his face lined with concern and encouragement. "The only redeeming feature of that little creature is that she's alive!"

Arianna joined him, her cheeks flushed from the hurried descent. "Yeah, it's overrated!" she chimed in, light in tone but weighted with the depth of unsaid meaning.

Nero nodded vigorously, nudging you gently as he gestured to the world beyond. "Yeah, even overblown!"

Arianna smirked, crossing her arms in a very defiant pose, even going so far as to tilt her chin upward in some kind of dare for you to say otherwise. "Everybody knows that’s just a temporary state, which is cured very quickly when we meet our fate!"

Nero's grin widened as he helped you sit up, your surroundings—a darkened alleyway—looming on like some sort of forgotten lover's heart. "Who cares?

Arianna wrapped her arm around your waist, the touch grounding and warm. "Unimportant!" she insisted, dismissing the weight of your sorrow with a wave of her hand.

Nero tugged your good hand with newly formed determination, pulling you toward the busy streets, back into the folds of society. "Overrated!"

Arianna toyed with your hair before flashing a mischievous wink over the mask of worried tension she knew was building the more they danced around your feelings. "Overblown!"

The pair sparkled brightly as they laughed-a stark difference amidst the cowering crowds shrinking away from you, the infamous Corpse Bride, the dainty specter who wielded more souls than damn near Lucifer himself.

"If only he could see how special you could be, if only he knew you, that we know!" Their words of encouragement merely cut through your heart like daggers.

You merely shook your head, a deepening frown as the shadows danced in your eyes, before pulling away and meandering to drift across the streets. A melancholy tune tumbled from your lips as those who'd dare to follow quickly began to wither into roses of silver and blue, scattered remnants of what once was. As you approached the next street, your lament started again, an echoing whisper.

"If I touch a burning candle, I can feel no pain; in the ice or in the sun, it's all the same." You breezed by a café with candles on its tables casting their golden light into the night air, and without even batting an eyelash, you blew them out, embracing the darkness like an old friend.

Your eyes closed, knowing, sans sight, that you were the most significant threat this Hellscape had ever known. Your heart clutched, and your sorrow blossomed into a dark storm that sent those who knew your power scurrying back into the shadows, fear etched upon their faces.

"Yet I feel my heart is aching; though it doesn't beat, it's breaking, and the pain here that I feel, please, try and tell me it's not real." As your eyes fluttered open, the street transformed before you: what once was vibrant red and black now lay cloaked in shades of blue and silver- your wailing, weaving a tapestry of despair, draped over the once bustling scenery.

"I know that I'm dead, yet it seems that I still have some tears to shed." Your voice was barely heard, and there was a broken murmur as you made your way to your house. The chill of the stone outside was like the weight of your grief. Climbing the stairs with sluggish motions, you sat at your piano bench and stared onto the keys, the swell of your sorrow deep.

Nero and Arianna watched you, their faces heavy with what was not said, too much pain entering them as it had the rest of hell when you started your lament. They knew all too well that you only called upon your full banshee powers when the weight of despair bore too much, even that they could not fix it.

You laid your fingers against the keys, and the weight of silence fell. You pressed a key, and the note sang out to resound as one deep ache in your soul, for Alastor would go back to the world of the living, leave you for another, and leave you a shadow.

The sob, so fragile yet mighty, ripped itself free from your lips and unleashed a storm into the very pits of hell. Your wail pierced the night, a chorus of anguish, seeing as you were Y/N, the Corpse Bride, or better yet, a banshee of ill fate, rivaling the voice of Lilith herself.

The roses that danced around your abode shook with solemn trembles at the harmonization of keys to a requiem of lost love. And you, still lost between the planes of life and death, celebrated being the Harbinger of Sorrow.

[reiding-writing]

macarons and misunderstandings [ s.r ]

Summary:

You coax Spencer into joining you in a bakery café that your friend recommended you to visit whilst on a case in NYC, and although it starts as two friends getting lunch together, it doesn’t end that way.

WARNINGS: minor swearing, wholesome miscommunication

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff, just the most sickeningly sweet wholesome fluff

wc: 3.4k

masterlist!!

a/n: rest assured, i will be returning to my comfort zone of hurt/comfort for my next fic bc i cannot write wholesome stuff for the life of me 😭

“Alright, take a break everyone, we’ll pick this back up after everyone’s had the chance to eat,” Hotch’s voice rings across the NYPD conference room alongside the closing of the file he was reading from, and he tucks the manilla folder under his arm as he stands. “I want you all back here by 1:30,”

There’s a small chain of nods and ‘yes sir’s before the team is rising from the table and grabbing their belongings to vacate the police station to go and get some lunch, and you manage to catch Spencer right before he leaves. “Hey Spence-”

“Hm? Yeah?” He does a full U-turn with his body, almost walking straight into you in the process if not for his hand still holding the door open to give him a point of balance, and you have to stifle a small smile that tries to break its way onto your face.

“You got any plans for lunch or can I effectively kidnap you for an hour?”

Spencer gives you slightly furrowed expression although doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “I’m not sure that was the best way to word that but no I haven’t,”

“Yeah probably not-“ You let out a small breath that could almost constitute as a laugh. "Anyway, apparently there’s a really good french bakery like two blocks away from here, we should go check it out before Hotch changes his mind and decides we’re confined to the station,”

“Right… yeah uh-.” Spencer laughed softly, encouraging you out of the door ahead of him before following behind you. “A bakery sounds really nice actually,”

"My friend told me about it when she was down here for fashion week, she said it has some of the best pastries she’s ever tried," You emphasise the word ‘best’ with your hands, and Spencer’s eyes followed them as he got caught up in your enthusiasm.

One of your favourite things about your oddly-developed friendship with Spencer was that you could do things like take a trip to a bakery together without a single hint of awkwardness.

Long since had the silences between you held any unfamiliar tension or apprehension when it came to getting to know each other those five years ago.

It was comfortable. Secure. And you weren’t entirely sure it was just a ‘friendship’.

“Did she happen to mention what type of pastries they have?” Spencer asked you, his eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity.

"She specifically mentioned the almond croissants, although i’m also eager to try their lemon crêpes because they sound absolutely amazing," You continue to exaggerate what you’re saying with your hands as you push open the door of the Police Station, exiting into the cool autumnal breeze of the New York City streets.

Spencer followed closely behind you, nodding along to what you were saying as he placed his hands the pockets of his tattered trench coat. Although, he wasn’t entirely listening to the words leaving your mouth, too focused on how the autumn breeze blew your hair softly and how the partially concealed rays of sun made your eyes look like they they held all of the stars in the milky way.

"Ooh, and macarons-" You turn towards Spencer as your excitement about what pastries to get overtakes any lingering thoughts of the case you’re working on, gripping onto his sleeve with your left hand.

You were excited about the pastries; He was excited about the warmth of your hand through his sleeve.

“Macarons do sound good. You know what would go really well with them?” Spencer looked at you as he spoke, smiling like you’d ripped the sun from the sky and given it to him as a present. “Hot chocolate.”

"Oh you are so right-" You give an immediate sharp nod at Spencer’s suggestion, sliding down his arm to rest on the inside of his elbow, fingers pressed gently into the slight curve created from where his hands rested inside his pockets.

To the unassuming eye, the two of you most probably looked like a couple out on a date, your arms linked and Spencer looking at you like you were the only person in existence.

Spencer was very aware that the way you touched him made it look like you were in a relationship.

And it made him feel a little giddy.

He had to force himself back to reality. He wasn’t in a relationship with you. All he was doing was going out with you as a friend to grab some pastries for lunch. That’s it.

"Okay so we have definite yeses to macarons and hot chocolate, I feel like we’ve gotta get at least one almond croissant considering how much my friend was raving about them, anything else?"

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a crêpe before. Maybe we should try one of those?”

Spencer had a sudden urge to kiss you, and he didn’t really know why. Maybe it was gentle heat of your fingers against his arm. Maybe it was the light pink flush on your cheeks from the cold breeze. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been subconsciously pining after you for years to the point where he could barely think of anything else.

"Yes. Definitely. 100%." You give the inside of his elbow a small squeeze at the prospect of introducing him to the delicacy that is french crêpes. "I cannot let you live a life without crêpes in it."

Spencer nodded along arbitrarily, not listening to a single word that you just said as he internally imagined how it would feel to have your hands in his hair and your lips on his skin.

Why wasn’t he in a relationship with you? You were just… perfect, and he was really into you.

He felt like there had to be a reason why you weren’t together, but that train of thought made Spencer fluster to the point he was afraid you’d be able to see it if he thought about it any longer.

"Aha," You make an exclamation of victory as the bakery comes into view, pushing the door open with a soft bell chime and tugging Spencer inside with you with a gentle but excited insistence.

The bakery looked amazing, although much closer to a café. It had a small quaint European feel to it despite it being on a main Street in New York City, and surprisingly, it wasn’t that busy either. It was the exact type of bakery that Spencer had hoped it would be.

You scour the chalkboard menu for a second to make sure they actually had everything you wanted before going up to order, and Spencer noticed as your hand slid downwards to the inside of his wrist so that you could lean forward to see the chalk whilst still keeping yourself anchored to him.

He was definitely blushing now, his heart taunting him as it pounded against his chest.

Spencer wanted to ask you to kiss him, or at least hold his hand, but the thought of bringing attention to the unspoken connection the two of you had may ruin it stopped him from saying anything, not wanting to risk losing what he currently had in the very minor instance of gaining something more.

"You’re alright with sharing a croissant and a crêpe right? I figure it might be too much otherwise-"

Spencer nodded with a smile. “I don’t mind sharing a croissant and a crêpe with you.”

You give him a beamed smile and a nod as you leave his side to go and order, shutting down his offer to pay before he could even suggest it.

He subconsciously ran his fingers over his wrist as he waited for you, trying to compensate from the loss of your touch and the gentle warmth that accompanied it as he watched you engage in polite small talk with the cashier.

You looked so sweet. So perfect.

"let’s sit outside yeah? it’s a nice day," You retreat back towards him with a tray balanced in your hands, two mugs of hot chocolate joined with four coloured macarons and a single croissant and crêpe, carefully distributed to balance the weight as you carry it.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Spencer nods at you softly, a wistful expression still on his face as he takes you by the elbow in order to help you carry the tray safely.

The reinstating of your previous contact brought a small flush back over his cheeks, and even through his hands were only brushing against the fabric of your shirt, it still felt oddly intimate.

The two of you walk over to a vacant table, set under a large parasol that casted the table in a comfortable shade.

Spencer took a seat across from you as you both sat down, separated by a small table in between the two of you.

Funny how a little table could do that.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh my god we are definitely coming back here next time we have a case down here-" You give a satisfied sigh as you wipe your fingers on a serviette, placing it inside your empty mug and pulling out your phone to check the time.

1:17.

You should get back to the station.

The thought of having to go back dampened your mood a little, and not just because it meant you now had to spend the rest of the day bent over a desk to curate a profile.

You really enjoyed spending time with Spencer like this, whether it be accompanying him to a new museum exhibit or driving him to buy his groceries so he wouldn’t have to sit behind the wheel.

It was a small highlight of your time not spent working, and you always found yourself disheartened when it was time to leave.

“We should definitely come back.” Spencer looked at you as he spoke, catching the mild change in your expression. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah- yeah i’m good,” You give him a nod and a reassuring smile as you stand from you seat with him following not long after you. “Just not exactly looking forward to going back to work,”

“Yeah I understand what you mean,” Spencer gives a small laugh, stuffing his hands back into his pockets again.

"We should do this more often you know,” You tilt your head slightly at him, the words leaving your mouth without any thought behind them. "I uh- enjoy spending time with you like this,"

“I enjoy spending time with you too,” Spencer smiled gently.

He looked at you, feeling a slight bit of courage at your confession of enjoying spending time with him one on one.

Come on Spencer, just ask them out already.

"I’m glad," You give Spencer a half-laugh, turning away from him slightly to hide the flushed nature of your cheeks from your embarrassment.

Spencer’s eyes studied you, and he felt like now might be the time. You two were still technically off work, you loved spending time together, and you’d just spent the last half an hour listening to him rant about the new book he was reading whilst the two of you drank hot chocolate and shared french pastries with each other.

You weren’t just friends. You were more than that.

At least he hoped so.

“Can I take you out… on a date?” Spencer’s voice was soft, but it carried confidence.

"A- date?" You stop walking in the middle of the street, your body re-directing any cognitive functioning to focus on computing Spencer’s question.

Spencer stopped as you did, eyes entirely trained on your expression. He couldn’t help but look at how beautiful you were right now. Your face painted with a blush and a mild look of confusion characterised through the slight furrow in your eyebrows.

“Y- yeah… do you want to go on a date with me?”

Of course it was okay if you didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt Spencer. He’d handle the rejection. Right?

"I- Yeah-" You nod quickly, a little too enthusiastically if you were to think about it logically. “Yes,”

"I’d love to go on a date with you-" You’re words are rushed and slightly muddled together as you hastily agree to his proposition, but they get the point across.

Spencer’s face lit up with a blush as you said yes.

That’s wonderful news.

A small grin spread across his face. “I’m glad…” The words slipped out without Spencer realising it, joined by a notable fluster.

He was glad.

He was absolutely thrilled about the fact you want to go on a date with him.

Spencer was so incredibly grateful that you said yes.

“Wouldn’t- I mean- We just like went out together and got food and talked and stuff- was that… a date?-“ You gesture your hand back to the bakery café the two of you had just left.

You weren’t exactly wrong, and he understood your confusion.

“I suppose it follows the motions of a date,” Spencer looked at you, overtaken by how perfectly ethereal you looked with the breeze fluttering against your shirt and a blush covering your cheeks.

“But an actual date would be much more romantic.” His words were confident, even if he was embarrassed that he was admitting to you just how much of a romantic he was underneath his façade of being uninterested in finding someone.

"So it wasn’t a date?” You raise an eyebrow slightly, fiddling with your sleeves. “Because I want to kiss you but if it wasn’t a date then I can’t because you can’t kiss someone without going on a date with them first because it breaks date etiquette-”

Spencer’s eyes widened as he listened to you ramble without taking a single breath. You wanted to kiss him?

You wanted to kiss him.

You wanted to kiss him.

Spencer was trying to keep his emotions in check as he stared at you. Your words made him tingle with excitement. “Um… you can- still kiss me if you want…?”

You shake your head with determination. “You can’t kiss someone before you’ve been on a date with them,”

Spencer looked so utterly confused.

So, you didn’t want to kiss him?

He wanted to kiss you.

“Why not? Your logic makes no sense. Why can’t kiss me?” Spencer was so utterly confused, his eyebrows knitted in a way that made you want to plant your lips between them as he tried to understand what your issue was.

"My logic makes complete sense-" You cross your arms over your chest as you gesture for the two of you to keep walking with a nod of your head.

"Everybody knows that you never kiss somebody until the end of the first date, it curses your whole future relationship otherwise,"

Spencer couldn’t help but stare at you blankly.

What he heard you say was wrong. Really wrong.

You should kiss someone whenever you want to kiss someone. Especially if they’re your crush.

But you were adamant you couldn’t kiss Spencer because of this stupid arbitrary rule.

"Well, if you’d have agreed to my judgement that our bakery stop was a date then you’d be getting a kiss," You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, lips pressed into a straight line. "But you don’t, therefore I can’t kiss you,"

Spencer stared at you in disbelief as you spoke, before his eyes widened.

He knew what you wanted to hear, and so he gave in.

It was the only way he’d get a kiss.

“Okay okay- It was a date at the bakery I was wrong-”

He hated how desperate he sounded, but you were so beautiful, you were stunning, you were the most gorgeous person he ever met.

Spencer wanted to be with you. And you were giving him an in to finally press his lips against your perfect face.

"Are you sure?" You furrow your eyebrows at him in mock accusation, agains stopping in your tracks to stand in front of him with your eyes fixed on his face.

Spencer sighed. “I… yes. It was a date. I was just being silly…” Spencer took your hand for a moment as he spoke to you, interlacing his fingers in yours and feeling the warmth of your hands against his frigidly cold ones.

He wanted you to know that he felt a lot differently towards you compared to how he’d felt about anyone else.

You were special.

And he wanted you.

"Right you are pretty boy," You give his hand a small squeeze as you use your other to cup his face, pulling it towards you with a gentle insistence so that you could press a chaste kiss to those perfect pink lips that had just been begging you to silence them. "You were being silly,"

Spencer’s face lit up with another blush as you called him pretty boy.

Of course you thought Spencer was pretty. Not handsome or beautiful.

Pretty.

He let himself be pulled in closer as you spoke to him teasingly, telling him that he was being silly.

And then… your lips. Pressed against his with a soft pressure that he gladly returned.

That was all it took for Spencer to feel like the luckiest man on earth.

"Here’s to a successful first date," You chuckle softly as your lips part, your noses brushing as you lean back to admire the rosy tint to his cheeks and the beaming smile that accompanied it.

Spencer felt so happy. So overwhelmingly, sickeningly happy.

And so, he did a thing that he never thought he had the courage to do. He pulled you into his arms, leaning in to kiss you with so much fervour that you were relying on the strength of his hands on your waist for stability.

Spencer didn’t know when he’d get the opportunity to do this again. So he was 100% going to make the most of it.

You can’t help the smile that erupts on your face as he pulls you in again, your hands cradling his cheeks and your head tilted ever so slightly to the left as you rested your weight into his hands.

If you’d recorded this moment and told him it was a scene from a cheesy romance movie he would’ve believed you.

As the two of you reluctantly pull away due to the unfortunate human necessity of breathing, you catch a glance at the watch face on the inside of your wrist.

1:29.

“Shit- We really need to get back to the station.” Your hands fall from his face to grab one of his own, pulling him down the streets as you hurry back to the police station, mildly out of breath and still completely flustered.

“So-“ Spencer pulled a small resistance against your hands as the two of you stopped outside of the door.

“We’re going on a second date once we get home right?”

[truefant4sy]

Can I make a request for some smutty king uceyjucey jey uso pretty plz

attitude.

okay love ENJOY<3

warnings: choking,crying,sorta dom/sub,squriting

"you gon act this the whole ride?" josh looked her awaiting her answer.

"Yup." she spoke back bitterly why was she mad? because well this was his first break in 3 months it was back-to-back shows and she only ever got to see him if they had something going on in the same city, state etc.

Now that he was home all he did was sleep answer emails and sleep more.

I mean it was well deserved but God was she horny.

"well then what's the point of me being here ma?" he asked her rubbing at his beard looking all too god with that black compression shirt and those chains, she knew that if riled him up enough she would get exactly what she wanted which was nice rough beating straight to her pussy, "I don't fucking know just stop talking to me already bitch" she turned to look at waiting for his face to screw up once he realized what she just called him yet it didn't.

he only silently pulled off the highway onto the streets of LA which was clearly far away from their destination which was the LAX airport for their jet to Dubai "you really just don't know how to shut the fuck up huh?" he asked her as he was parked into the far corner of the dark empty parking lot that was empty due to it only being 3 in the morning "I guess not" she replied smartly making him look at her waiting to see if she would even try to take back what she said.

he only nodded his head when he realized she was set in her decisions he unbuckled his seatbelt and made his way around the hood of their rental and to her side which were he opened the door without saying anything and unbuckling her seatbelt and scoping her out of the passenger seat and with her still in his arm he opened the backseat door and tossed her down in the seat leaving her on her back as before following behind her climbing on top of her his arms holding himself up above her and closing the door "Ima give you one more chance mama.

so what you call me?" his brown eyes bore into eyes as he rubbed his legs clearly ready to pounce it she gave him the wrong answer "A bitch that's what I call-" before she could even finish what she was saying his hand was tightly around her throat as he gave her rough kiss not even giving her any time to adjust to it making her moan he made sure to kiss her for long enough to the point she couldn't breathe making her push at his chest as she steadily sucked her tongue harder he only pulled away for a second to catch his own breathe before going back in.

"Lemme take these off" he muttered in between kisses his hands on her ass as he kneaded it through her black leggings, she lifted up her hips up as he roughly tugged them down her thick legs leaving her bare and she wasn't wearing any panties underneath them "nasty ass." he commented as he saw her panty-less.

his thumb started flicking at her clit making her moan.

he slid down now face level with her pussy and wasting no time using one of his hands to hold her pussy lips open as he his tongue worked absolute magic on his clit his other hand had two fingers his index and middle knuckle deep in her tight pussy as he fingered her roughly "shittt slow down".

she whimpered as his fingers seemed to speed up at the second "shut the fuck up" he groaned into her pussy as her pussy spasmed around his fingers her hands shot down to grab at his curly short hair to push his mouth more onto her pussy his eyes stared up at her as her eyebrows bunched up together as she bit her bottom lip.

"It feels so fucking good oh my godd" her back arched up out of the seat as he used the hand that was holding her pussy open to lift her clit and lick at the sensitive spot that never failed to make her cum.

"fuckkkk daddy I'm gonna cum" her voice was high pitched, and her moans got even higher and more frequent "c'mon fucking cum" he groaned into her pussy as her legs violently shook.

"I'm fucking cumming holy fucking shit" her moan was high pitched as she tightly gripped his hair making him moan into her as he slurped everything that came out of her pussy which caused her to shiver.

yet he didn't stop fingering her orgasm finished "alright- fuck Joshua stop" she screamed as he curled his fingers as he found exactly what he was looking for, "shut that shit up mama this is exactly what you wanted don't run now" he had to toss her legs over his shoulders to keep her from trying to close them.

she tried to sit up to scoot away but he only pushed her back down onto the seat "no more please-" as much as she tried to plead with him her body did the exact opposite of what she was saying.

"Shh wet up this seat ma I know you want to" he cooed her.

Her face screwed up even more her eyes rolling back as she felt warm all over her stomach clenching painfully and just like that, she squirted all over his fingers with a loud moan.

"fuckkkking shitt" watching her like this made him even more hard even when he was mad at her he couldn't help but still be attracted to her body once he pulled his fingers out, he pulled down his sweats and boxers and discarded them somewhere on the floor along with her leggings.

he slapped her puffy clit with the fat tip of his dick making her gush a bit more "please daddy I need it" she whined rubbing at her puffy wet folds "speak like a big girl baby you know how" he purred while he jerked off above her, her legs still on either side of his broad shoulders.

"i need you to fuck me please" she whined rubbing at his stomach underneath his shirt "take this off" she tugged on his shirt making him flash her his pretty smile, as he took it off, she did the same with her sweatshirt which she also wore nothing underneath his hands reached out and began grabbing and twisting her nipples making her even more dizzy. at this point all she could hear was their hard breathing and the song.

"The Hills" by the weeknd played throughout the car as he slid it in, they both gasped making the moment all the more special, he quickly flipped her over on to her stomach made her lay down flat making sure she wasn't arching her back.

The last time they did this position she squirted so much there was a puddle in the bed.

His strokes started off slow to warm her up to his big size but once she got used to it, she swore her soul left her body and was replaced by another unworldly horny spirit she couldn't even control her mouth.

"Yo ass always got a damn attitude" josh spat as he picked up pace making her scream into the seat "you just like getting treated like this huh? you're such a fuckin slut".

he grabbed her hair and made her turn her head to look at him "there we go pretty mama let daddy see yo fine ass face" and all she could do was moan "your so fucking deep daddy I swear it's in my stomach fuckkk" she eyes were rolled back before she closed them tightly "yeah?" he grabbed the side of the door as he picked up his thrust the slapping sound getting louder than the new song that now played through the car "LSD" by asap rocky.

He grabbed her throat tightly as he made her lift her body up so he could bruise her lips even more with some even rougher kisses and once he was done, he pushed her back down onto the seat.

"Say sorry" he smacked her ass with so much force it brought tears it her eyes "I'm sorry daddy- I didn't mean that I promise" she choked out through her sobs of pure pleasure and joy "yeah?tell me you love me baby tell me how much you fuckin love me".

he groaned his eyes shut as he mindlessly rocked himself deeper into her pussy "I love you so damn much daddy I promise I do" her skin was hot to the touch as she could feel that same painful clench in her stomach "I love you too baby" his hand gripped at her throat more the closer he got "I'm so close mama I wantchu to cum with me alright?" his body was shaking as he tried his best to push both of them to an orgasm.

his hand reached underneath her to rub at her clit.

once he did that it felt like fireworks were going off in her body and mind "FUCK " she screamed into the seat as her body endlessly sprayed his dick down making her toes curl as she gripped at the seat as her pussy clenched around him unbelievably tight, he could feel his own eyes brim with tears

"Fuck I'm boutta fill this pussy up. You better gimme some kids too" his dirty words made her tingly all over and as he filled her up.

They stayed like that for a bit until josh pulled out reached into the front and popped the center console open to pull out some wipes to clean her up.

"Next time you better fix ya attitude" he told her playfully as he wiped down her thighs "will do" she replied softly.

[acourtofquietdreamers]

If you can’t see the difference between this:

I dreamed of Lord Graysen-so mortal and young-standing at the edge of the camp, beckoning to Elain. Telling her he'd come for her. To come home with him. That he'd found a way to undo what had been done to her-to make her human again.

But Azriel asked softly, "What about Elain?" Something cold went through me. Nesta was just staring at Azriel. Staring and staring.

Nesta was already moving, sprinting for where we'd heard that voice. Luring Elain out. I knew how it had done it. I'd dreamed of it. Graysen standing on the edge of camp, calling to her, promising her love and healing.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, "I'm getting her back." Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel's hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, "Then you will die." Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, "I'm getting her back."

My mouth went dry as that scream sounded again. I couldn't bear it - to let it go on, to see what was being done - Azriel's shadow-hand grasped my own, tugging me closer. His rage rippled off his invisible form.

Azriel slid back the curtain—Elain was in her nightgown. Gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us—Azriel and me— I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her. I kept up my litany of praying, beseeching the Cauldron to make my womb fruitful, on and on—Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

The screaming and shouting began. Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck. "Hold tight," he ordered her, "and don't make a sound."

"Grab onto him!" Elain ordered the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her. The girl looked like a doe about to be run down by a wolf. The girl did not open her arms as they neared. Elain screamed at her, "If you want to live, do it now!" The girl dropped her cloak, opened her arms wide. Her black hair streamed behind Azriel, catching amongst his wings as he practically tackled her into the sky. But I saw, even as I ran, Elain's pale hands lurch-gripping the girl by her neck, holding her as tightly as she could. And just in time.

Azriel's roar echoed off the rocks as the hound slammed into him, dragging those shredding talons down his spine, his wings— The girl screamed, but Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast's face. Its eye. Another. Another. It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home.

Azriel's power gave out on the outskirts of our camp. The girl, despite the burns and lashings on her moon-white skin, was able to walk. The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he'd slapped on it. Help—he needed a healer immediately.

She let out a sob at the sight of Elain, still in Azriel's arms. I'd never heard a sound like that from her. Not once. She isn't hurt, I said to her, into that chamber in her mind.

Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, "We need Helion to get these chains off her." Yet Elain didn't seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger's cheek. And then walked to me and Nesta, who pulled back long enough to survey Elain's clean face, her clear eyes.

And this (Trigger Warning: SA mentioned):

I truly don’t know what to tell you, but I’ll try anyways.

One is a romantically coded rescue scene with many parallels to other SJM couples. See here, here, here, here, here, and here. Az’s rage once he realizes Elain is in trouble, rescuing her even if it means he could die, “you came for me”, “devouring the sight of him”, Az doesn’t put her down even though he’s gravely hurt and Elain is uninjured, ends with a kiss on the cheek. This scene also shows Elain and Az working together beautifully to save Briar and get rid of the hounds. Elain ends the scene with clear eyes.

The other is a woman retelling the most traumatic day of her life. It’s a heartbreaking story and it seriously concerns me if you read that story and your take away is “Az rescued Gwyn! He slaughtered them all and covered her with his cloak!! Soo romantic, they must be mates!” ANYONE in the IC would’ve reacted this way in the face of such a horrific scene.

And this behavior comes from people who claim to love Gwyn, yet make the most traumatic moment of her life about a man. It’s icky.

These two scenes are not comparable. Elriels using “Hold tight and don’t make a sound” as a NSFW prompt (when the same verbiage has been used during spicy scenes in SJM books) is not the same as people romanticizing Gwyn’s trauma and changing her story so Azriel is the one that carried her out. Just stop.

[mischiefmaker615]

Take Me to Church

Inspiration: "Take Me to Church" by Hozier

Summary: Even a god can worship..

Requester: @slytherinqueen4life

Rating: R

Loki’s POV

Those eyes.. those eyes hold far more cruelty than I ever had in all the nine realms..

So much power.. power I could never ask for, for they demand submission.

My submission..

Her beautiful hair fell over her shoulders, framing her gaze while she kept me beneath her. Her nails dug into my shoulders, indicating through strength just how much she was taking me in.

I could watch her all day..

How she dragged herself up and down while I felt every inch of her grip me like a vice. I knew what she was doing, and gods knew how long she’d keep me over this cruel edge before she’d decide for when I could fall..

‘’Norns..’’ I breathed out, barely a whisper while my hips bucked instinctually up now and again and would earn myself another squeeze of her cunt. Gods she could ride me all day I’d still never tire..

And just before I could feel that heavenly state of bliss, her cruelty would begin again and she would seat herself down on my cock, rendering me immobile once more while I remained with her cold chains around my wrists. Gods knew I could break these, easily, but there was something about her.. her fierceness, her power, her domination that kept me from taking control.

She could have It all if it pleased her.. that’s all I could live for..

She would wait until she had me fidgeting, aching to rut into her again but I knew better than to move. Rewards were far but oh so worth the wait. As my eyes closed, willing patience once more before she decided to move her hips again- she removed herself entirely from my cock.

Confusion more than anything had me raise my head to look upon her, fully prepared to beg if I needed to for her to return and sheath my cock once more- but she had different plans.

Her knees brought her up my body, her dainty yet capable hands helping her along while she crawled to my gaze, her own piercing mine.

Gods yes.. just as I find myself struggling often to predict her next move, this one I found myself guessing easily..

Eagerly..

My nails dug into my palms, willing myself to remain patient, even while my mouth watered in demand. My cock hardened impossibly more and my muscles tensed to remain still.

Her knees finally.. finally planted themselves beside my head, and yet she still cruelly waited until she found me fidgeting once more.

Damn her sometimes..

But one found no room to complain when their mouth was busy.

I found hear her nails digging into the fabricated headboard while my impatient breaths fanned her cunt. Her thigh muscles tensed and I dared wondered if she was as desperate as I was while she kept up her cruel game.

Norns let me give you my life if you grant me this very moment to worship you in the bedroom.. to hold onto my promises I’ve vowed when you’ve so diligently and deliciously broke yours..

But not this one..

She finally sank herself down, a mix between a sigh and a gasp leaving her lips when her cunt enveloped my tongue. She began to slowly pull herself up, only to sink herself more onto my muscle I kept upward for her.

The mere taste of her had me humming against her flesh, the vibrations enough to earn me a faster pace while her hips began to tilt and sway back and forth. This action allowed her to use the tip of my nose to grind against her clit, the part of her I would help myself whenever she would offer it to my lips. Now and again she would oblige, grant for mere moments of mercy where I would lift my head up eagerly to suck upon her swollen bud and caress it with my tongue.

I could die like this.. gladly suffocate with her thighs pressed against my cheeks and her scent intoxicating my senses..

Another moan of pleasure from me would give another level of speed from her. Her legs would begin to shake while she would switch her position to where she so desperately needed me. Once she would remove her bud from my lips she would then hump it against my nose, indicating how much she needed my tongue inside her before she would switch off again.

My tongue couldn’t get any deeper in her- despite it’s attempts to reach her soul. It would desperately thrust up into her, acting as the one part of me that remained at attention for it’s turn.. but not now.. this was her pleasure, and she was going to take it..

Another moan left my lips, already feeling her walls began to flutter while I caressed her entrance, having found out just how close she was before she quickly moved her clit back to my mouth with a failed attention to hide what I already knew.

I knew what she wanted and how she would end this.

With desperate pants leaving her mouth, I felt her fingers glide into my hair, helping to lift my head and press my face more into her cunt while she weighed herself more upon her knees in an attempt to get closer. I ate like I was a starving man with the idea that only her essence could revive me from Hel’s torment..

With just the beginning of her moan, I was ready for her and she drew herself up quickly before my tongue shot right into her core, my nose and mouth pressing up into her with eager movements, I had her coming with a cry.

She was mewling upon shaking limbs, my name flowing from her lips as if I were the one to have dominated her..

With a single sound of a click, I could feel my arms sink into the mattress once she’s released me from my bounds. Her game was over, she was raising her white flag and recovering from battle while I feel her legs muster enough strength to raise herself from my mouth.

This wasn’t over.

Upon her surrender my hands instantly flew to her hips, stopping her in her tracks as she even dared flex a muscle to dismount from her perch. Her breath hitched, showing she had taken on a sudden confused state but she and I both knew that once she resigned, I was back in control and therefore making sure she planted herself back onto my face and stayed there until I have had enough.

Her moans and cries fell upon deaf ears.

 She’s brought me upon her religion and I fully intended on committing until I am at her mercy once more and begging for salvation. As cruel as she may be out there, behind these walls she’s granted me heaven.

So let me worship.. and take me to church..

(perhaps a failed attempt at being poetic but my brain demanded his POV on this one Lol)

(DM a song for your own Musical Mischief Loki one shot :D )

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @gemini-serpentis

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Lies and Alibis

Have this totally unedited and margarita fueled piece of mafia!au nikolai x chubby!reader.

Part 2

It had been a survival tactic really, latching onto the bear of a man in a slick black suit, the gold chain around his neck glittering under the light of the chandelier. She’d done her best, slinking around in corners with a glass of champagne in her hand, trying to play at being casual at this lavish party she’d been sent to in the russian countryside. 

She had had a hell of a time trying to hunt down a suitable partner to go to the party with her. Someone who spoke english fluently enough meet her in the middle with her piss poor russian. She understood well enough, speaking was the problem, her accent clumsy. The little language app on her phone could only do so much. She should have known better really, should have caked on more makeup, wore a wig, something. But she’d realized her error to late as one too many suspicious eyes followed her about the place, one too many familiar faces watching her just out of the periphery of her vision. 

Better to at least attempt to camouflage herself, shifting her expression to one of vague confusion and worry. She’d spotted him through the crowd, big and bulky, with gorgeous brown eyes and a warm booming laugh. Black hair coiffed back neatly, the strands tickling his neck. He looked polite enough. So she feigned eureka. Slipping through the crowd and sliding her arm in his, praying to every god in existence that he would just be tickled to have a woman on his arm. 

–

Nikolai only stiffened a moment, hand shifting slightly toward his belt before dropping entirely as he took in the soft thing now clinging to his arm. She flashed him a sheepish smile, eyes pleading from under long pretty lashes. She certainly didn't belong here, all luxurious curves highlighted under a soft satin dress. He had his own mission to attend to, but one look at her face had him immediately following along with whatever sidequest this young lady was about to be. 

“Privet,  Zaychonok”  He greets, returning her smile with a warm one of his own, patting her hand against his forearm. Her relief is palpable as she scrubs her fingers against the fabric of his forearm. A subtle thanks as she takes a long swig from her glass.  He snags her another as the waiter passes, easing it into her hand smoothly. 

–

She’s beyond grateful that this russian saint, does all of the talking. He’s honestly a great conversationalist from what she can gather. He glosses over her arrival completely and continues casually, holding a glass of amber liquid in his free hand and keeping her hand tucked snuggly in the crook of his arm. She was supposed to be listening out for some sort of smuggling details, weapons, she was told, all she needed was a destination and that would be good enough. Naturally no such destinations are even mentioned, and when she ponders giving up, feigning a visit to the bathroom and shimmying out the door the large russian snakes an arm around her waist, guiding her along beside him as the group moves along. His palm is warm, and she can feel the rough edge of calluses through the thin satin fabric of her dress. 

Nikolai, she would come to learn, was up to as much good as she was. Of course he would be, she was at a fucking fancy dinner party for the god damn russian underground. Everyone here was either a politician or criminal, as if those things were different. It was both a worry and relief as Nikolai kept a firm hand against her side. As the group navigated toward a table, Nikolai pulled out her chair, sliding it close beside his own and taking her hand, guiding her down into seat like a gentleman before taking his seat beside her, unbuttoning his waist coat before settling. He leaned back,  draping an arm around her shoulders, settling an ankle against his knee as his fingers toyed with the strap of her dress. They looked like a regular couple, and she found herself a bit lost in the fantasy of it. Fake or not it had been some time since a man had held her this way, protective and possessive, with such nonchalance that it didn't feel suffocating. She didnt feel lesser next to this stranger, but cared for, watched over, with the underlying current that the man beside her can and most certainly has killed for less noble causes. 

The thought of it made something in her silly little brain purr and she leans against him, relaxing enough to play along just a bit more. For the bit of course. 

So much into the bit that she doesn't catch the conversation happening in her direction. Only blinks a bit owlishly as Nikolai looks at her with amusement. 

“Da, malyshka?” he asks with a chuckle. 

“Da” she chirps without delay, mustering up enough acting skills to at least repeat the simple affirmative with the correct lilt. 

Nikolai looks proud as he slides his fingers along her shoulder, cupping her neck in large palm, thumb petting along the baby hairs of her neck as he pulls her closer to his side in affectionate embrace. However rather than pull away, she stays there, cheek resting against his shoulder as he continues his petting. She feels warm against the man’s arm, safe and borderline sleepy, no longer concerned with the suspicious eyes that had followed her in the beginning of the night. Brave enough to legitimately excuse herself the the ladies room, she murmurs what she thinks is the correct phrase and he eases his arm away enough for her to wriggle out of the nest of his side. 

She’s washing her hands, listening to the soft music play through the corridor before an eerie silence has her freezing. The music stops, and all that can be heard is very angry sounding russian being barked across the music hall. She moves slowly, peering through the gap in the door to find her very saint throwing hands with far too many men to be a fair fight. Her bear sized knight crumpling to the floor when the butt of a rifle connects with his face.

Another man barks orders, pointing his finger across the hall. 

Nikolai was the first. And she was certainly next.

[withwritersblock]

Close to You

~Close to You by Gracie Abrams~ Author's Note: requested! Loved writing this one Summary: Two strangers fall in love at first sight or rather fall in lust Warnings: implied smut ig Word Count: 2,096 Kirby Dach x fm!reader

This was an atmosphere she had started to get used to, Montreal had one of the best night life scene. She was always a fan of just going with her group of friends, drinking and sweating the night away. 

Every time herself and her friends went out there was an overwhelming amount of guys trying to get with them. Her friends would always take the bait but she was never willing to go home with them. 

Entering tonight, she had the same plans she always does. 

The glass in her hand was nearly spilling as she was dancing the night away. A blond guy walked up towards her intending to start a conversation but she happily danced away from him, spinning and holding her free hand in the air as she sipped her long island iced tea. A drink that always gives her the best nights. 

She spinned into her friend, Hailey, chuckling as they both met each other’s gaze. 

The song in the background continued to pound against her chest as she shut her eyes as she swayed along to the beat. The red dress squeezing her frame was something every guy in the club was obsessed over, some more than others.

She brought the drink towards her lips, sipping it as she spun around again and met his gaze. Her drunk smile on her lips faded as she continued to look in his direction.

Everything around her felt like it froze. 

It was just them and no one else mattered.

It was safe to say that he was the most attractive man she’s ever seen. Their eyes remained connected and she knew that he had the most perfect blue eyes. His lips curled upward as a toothy grin formed to his lips.

Her entire body erupted in flames as she continued to look deeply into his eyes. It was like an overwhelming part of her body needed him and she’s only met his gaze for a few seconds. 

Bodies bumped into her, she shook her head but instantly her gaze reconnected with his eye.

It was as if nothing else mattered, she needed to meet him.

Maybe she was drunk, maybe she wasn’t but she knew that she needed to shove her way through the crowd to meet him. She spun around, trying to finish her drink. Hailey was already gone, no where to be seen. 

She spun around and he was gone. Her entire body felt like it went cold. The music was still pounding against her chest, she still swayed to the music, avoiding the bodies beside her.

After a few seconds, her body lit up in flames as a body stood behind her. Her body erupted with goosebumps as she could feel his hovering hands over her body. 

She quickly spun around, looking up to meet his gaze, it was those beautiful blue eyes she saw from across the way. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest as she smirked. He rested his hands on her hips stabilizing her.

Her breath caught in her throat as his touch was the most perfect thing in that moment.

Her hands subconsciously rested onto his chest as she pressed her lips together.

“I’m Kirby,” he said loudly as he smiled as he squeezed her hips as he pulled her towards him. She giggled as she kept her hands on his chest, she took a hold of the silver chain on his neck. 

An image of him hovering over her with it dangling in her face flashed in her mind but it disappeared as fast as it appeared. 

“Y/N,” she yelled towards him. He nodded as he pressed his lips together before he leaned towards her. He took a hold of her chin, moving her head to the side softly. 

“You’re fucking goregous,” he whispered loudly into her ear. He slowly turned her head back towards him, meeting her gaze. She smiled softly as her cheeks flushed. 

She leaned towards him, brushing her lips against his ear, “Thank you, handsome,” she whispered. She pulled away as she continued looking into his eyes. His cheeks were red, the club was hot as they were surrounded by sweaty bodies grinding and dancing with one another.

“Can we dance?” he asked loudly, a giggle falling from his lips. She smiled towards him as she nodded, a soft giggle leaving her lips. He tightened his grip around her waist as she slowly spun around, pressing her body against him. 

Their bodies moved insync as they grinded against one another for several songs. 

He raised his hand up, brushing her hair away from her neck. He pressed his lips against her skin as she tilted her head back against his chest. Her eyes shut as she found her breathing start to get unsteady.

He trailed his lips from her shoulder towards her neck, to beneath her ear. His hands were running along her stomach as her hands reached down and interlocked with his hands. 

The music was pounding and their was more bodies surounding them as they continued to dance against one another.

It felt right, at least for her drunken mind, his body against hers was the only thing she’s ever wanted. Her eyes landed on Hailey who was talking with their other friend Lily. It was obvious that they were talking about her. 

His hands were starting to roam her body, traveling along her frame over the tight red dress. His lips every few moments would perss along her neck, that finally she decided to spin around to meet his gaze again. His eyes were so intoxicating and welcoming. She could meet his gaze forever.

This time she rested her hands on the base of his neck to pull him towards her, their lips connected urgently. 

His hands held her lower back tightly, as he pulled her towards him desperate to get closer to her. “Let me take you back to my place,” he mumbled against her lips. 

She always said no, but he was different. Everything about the way he touched her, looked at her, kissed her, everything was different. 

She nodded as she leaned towards him again, craving his lips against hers. He hummed against her lips. He slowly pulled away from her, keeping his arm loosely around her body. Possessively holding her to his body. 

Stepping outside, the cold air didn’t matter as her body was radiating heat as he waved a drunken hand in the air to call for a cab. “You live here?” he asked, somewhat loudly as their ears were ringing from how loud the music was inside. 

“Moved here last year,” she explained as she slipped away from his grasp, to finally get a full admiration of what he looks. His body was covered in dark blue dress pants with a white button up, the top button was showing the top of his chest, his silver chain was evident as he shifted on his feet back and forth.

“From where?” he asked as he shoved his hand into his pockets, he was scanning her frame as well.

“Denver,” she let out as she tugged her dress down, feeling it climbing too high on her body. She held her hand out towards him asking him the same question.

“Alberta,” he said simply, not wanting to get too specific. He stepped towards her, his eyes shamelessly flickering all over her frame. “You like it here?”

She nodded as she continued to look into his eyes, “Absolutely, still need to learn French,” she muttered as a cab pulled up beside them. Kirby chuckled as he walked up beside her, loosely wrapping his arm around her waist to guide her towards the car. 

She sat down in the back, adjusting her dress as she slid to the center of the car. Kirby slid beside her wrapping his arm around her. She cuddled into his chest as she raised her hand up and took a hold of his chain.

He explained where to go to the cab driver, the driver nodded as he pulled off and headed down the road.

Dropping his gaze, he looked into her eyes, He raised his hand up and rested it onto her cheek. He ran his thumb across her cheek, her lips curled up softly while looking into his eyes. He leaned towards her, delicately pressing his lips against hers. She felt herself fall completely into him, it was overwhelming with how perfect this was.

Pulling away, he kept his hand on her cheek, loving the feeling of being this close to her. He didn’t want to pull away, he didn’t want to be anywhere but here. Well, maybe in a bed and not in the back of a cab but something about her felt right.

The cab pulled outside of his apartment, and Kirby handed him fifty dollars without a second though. He opened the door stepping out, he held out his hand for her to take. She gladly let him take a hold of her hand to guide her towards the building. 

Once they were in the elevator, Kirby stepped behind her, taking a hold of her stomach pulling her towards him. A giggle fell from her lips as she tilted her head back against his chest. He brushed her hair away from her neck, leaning towards her he pressed his lips onto her neck for a few seconds waiting for the doors to open.

They stepped out of the elevator, she pulled away from him, holding her hand out to allow him to guide her towards his apartment.

“Are you rich?” she asked as her eyes danced around the hallway. He chuckled while shaking his head.

“Not rich,” he mumbled as he walked towards his apartment, pulling his keys from his pocket. “I play for the Canadiens,” he let out as he pushed the door open, he leaned his body against the door allowing her to step inside.

“You’re lying,” she mumbled as she stepped inside, Kirby shut the door behind her. He twisted the lock on the door as he walked towards her. Y/N began to pull her phone from the tiny bag she had strapped around her body. 

He leaned against the door, he tilted his head back against the door, a smirk toying to his lips. “Are you Googling me?” he let out barely above a whisper.

“Kirby-” she trailed off, lifting her gaze up, waiting for him to finished the sentence.

“Dach,” he let out, a chuckle leaving his lips. Her eyes widened, he began to spell the short word. She nodded as she waited for it to load up. Her mouth fell open as she saw his roster photo.

“But I just went to a game and there was no seventy-seven on the ice,” she countered as she set her phone down alongside the bag onto the kitchen counter beside her. He swallowed hard as he walked towards her.

“Been out injured,” he let out, sadly. She nodded, pouting her lips.

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” she let out as she tilted her head to the side.

“It’s all good, I promise,” he let out as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She raised her hand up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“So, NHL player,” she muttered as she lowered her gaze towards his lips. He nodded as he guided her back towards his room which was only a few feet away from them. 

“Is that a good thing?” he let out furrowing his eyebrows. She shrugged as she ran her fingertips through the ends of his hair. 

“Hockey’s violent,” she let out. 

“I wouldn’t call it violent,” he teased. “Says the guy who’s injured,”

He chuckled while shaking his head, he reached behind her opening his bedroom door. He guided her towards his bed, letting the door shut behind him. They both kicked off their shoes as they stepped closer to the bed at the center of the room.

Slowly, she sat down looking up at him. He smirked as he rested his hand onto her cheek. “You’re different,” he let out. He found himself saying. Her eyes squinted slightly as she pursed her lips forward.

“Why?” she let out as she scooted away from him, laying down. He took a deep breath as he climbed on top of her, their faces were inches apart as he scanned her features.

“This isn’t a one time thing, is it?” he asked as he looked into her eyes. She smirked as she leaned towards him kissing him urgently.