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f1nalgirlz · 1 year ago

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Omg can you do wjere like they hate each other yk and they're arguing and they end up making out and stuff? (Preferably with Euro but anyone you pick is good)

Yesss I love this in fics/books everytime i read itttt. I’m so excited to write this!!

DISCLAIMER: This is literally only about Rory’s portrayal of Euronymous.

Less aggressive disclaimer: this was not proofread! In the future I’ll go back and fix anything but yeahh..

˗ˏˋwarnings´ˎ˗ fighting, enemies to lovers (kinda), nsfw, swearing, public sex, aggressive sex

˗ˏˋcontents´ˎ˗ fem reader, nsfw, dom Euro, creampie, oral sex/blowjob (m receiving)

It had already been a long fucking day to say the least and it was still morning. The start had been rough on you, spilling a coffee on yourself, having to turn around and go all the way home to change. You’d had to change into a different shirt, leaving on the skirt and fishnets you’d had on before. Catching a ride proved difficult, so you had to walk to work, your bike & car alike both out of commission in one way or the other. By the time you finally made it to work, you were late. You absolutely dreaded days you were even a minute late to work, but a whole two hours late? You knew your boss would have a fit. You hated your boss as it was and you knew very well the feeling was mutual. You couldn’t place why he hadn’t fired you yet, his hatred of you was so blatant and the only reason you hadn’t quit is because you really needed this job.

As you finally made it to the doors of the record shop you worked at, a breath left your lips. You entered, face a little sweaty from the part walk part jog you took to get here. Your hair stuck to your face. As the bell on the door rang with your movements, your boss looked up at you from behind the counter. He was just reading a magazine, typical. His long black hair looked messy. “Two hours. New record.” He said sourly, causing you to roll your eyes. When you made it to the desk, you tossed your bag down behind it. “Y’know I’m not even gonna bother explaining why I’m late because I know you don’t care the trouble I’ve been through.” You said with a huff, walking off to start unpacking the new record shipments. “No, I obviously don’t give a fuck what ‘troubles’ you went through to get to work, but I’m your boss you owe me an explanation about why you can never fucking be here on time.” He said, a mocking tone crossing his voice when he repeated your words. You basically felt your skin burn as anger washed over you, you basically stomped to the side of the counter he was sat behind. Usually his bad attitude wouldn’t have set you off like this, but you were fed up with his treatment of you. “Shit happened, okay? At this point I don’t even care, you’re such a dick all the time just fire me! I’ll find a job somewhere else you’re so insufferable!” You yelled at him, extremely close to him now, causing him to narrow his eyes at you. You instantly regretted your words, it was just heat of the moment, you new you needed this job. “I didn’t mean that- I-” you started but faltered due to nerves. You were fully expecting to be fired on the spot, but you were utterly shocked when you felt a rough hand on the back of your head.

Euro was gripping your hair aggressively, pulling you to close the space between you two. His chapped lips moved harshly against yours and you couldn’t help but kiss him back. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t shake how much you were enjoying this, it made your brain swarm with a million thoughts. Your hands found their way around his neck, shoving yourself closer to him. The feeling of his body against your own made your mind go numb, any thoughts from before dissipating. As he pulled away from your, now red, lips a string of saliva connected the two of you. You barely had time to meet his gaze before he dove into your neck, kissing at first but quickly it turned to biting. You felt embarrassed at the wetness that seeped into your panties in response to how rough he was with you, the embarrassment extended to the way you moaned for him as he marked your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he slipped from his seat and pushed your back against the counter, finally looking at you. Your lips parted, you wanted to say something but what? You couldn’t even think of what to say. As you scanned his body, you noticed a bulge in his jeans, it seemed he was just as turned on as you were. “You wanna keep your job?” He asked, weirdly nonchalant. All you could do was nod as you felt his hand on the top of your head, pushing you down to your knees. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching as he undid his heavy belt. As his pants were undone and his underwear were pushed down, his cock sprang from them. You didn’t miss a beat, licking a strip from the base to tip. Your hands made their way to his thighs as you took his tip into your mouth, taking him in further until you felt the head on the back of your throat. Tears pricked your eyes as you bobbed your head, moving one hand to pump him occasionally. The uncomfortable feeling of your fishnets digging into your knees was long forgotten as you continued. Moans and curses from the man above you just encouraged you to keep going, tears from gagging making your eye makeup smudge and your own drool covering your chin making you feel dirty. The thought of what was going on right now made your cunt get even wetter.

Soon you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head, your mouth being pulled off his dick with a pop. Euro had pulled you off, as he began dragging you to stand up by your hair. He used his thumb to wipe your chin before turning you around, he shoved you down, bending you over the counter. Your cheeks burned as your hands clutched the edge of the counter. Your eyes drifted to the ‘open’ sign on the door as you felt him aggressively ripping open your fishnets. Embarrassment once again crept into you, yet the thought of someone walking by, or walking in, and seeing you taking your boss’s cock made your cunt drip. When Euro felt he’d sufficiently ruined your tights, he pulled your black panties to the side, using his knee to spread your legs more. “You’re such a slut you know that?” He whispered into your ear, sounding as grouchy as usual. Before you could get out a reply, a surprised moan slipped from your lips. He’d slammed his entire cock into you, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. You choked on another moan as he fucked you roughly, his hands holding onto your hips so tight you thought you’d have bruises by the end. In a way you were disappointed in yourself for sinking low enough to do this with the man you hate, but on the other hand, he was fucking you so well you couldn’t be bothered to care about your feelings about him. He groaned into your ear, sounds of your wet pussy and his hips hammering into you filled the store. It felt so good, your brain went numb, not being able to speak, just letting out moans as your eyes watered. You saw a few people walking by the tall glass walls of the store, had you been in the right mind, you would’ve felt absolutely humiliated, but at the moment you couldn’t feel anything except the pleasure your boss was giving you. As you felt one of his hands leaving your hip, you soon felt it rubbing tight circles on your clit. Completely giving in, you let your eyes roll back a series of lustful moans leaving your mouth as your hands gripped at the counter top. “You’re such a whore for me, taking my cock so greedily.” he groaned out. You couldn’t even form any words, it was like he’d fucked you completely dumb. Your body was on fire as you felt a familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach, soon a loud choked moan ripped through the air. Your body shook as your orgasm washed over you, Euro was quick to follow, not even bothering to pull out as he came deep inside your pulsating hole. When he pulled out, you couldn’t even stand up, leaning on the counter for support. Your body felt like it was throbbing, as you were coming down from your high the bell on the door was ringing, signaling that someone had just walked in, your heart sank. When you looked up and saw Faust looking at you with a somewhat awestruck expression, you wanted to sink to the floor and hide. Euro laughing pulled you out if your thoughts, as you turned your head and watched him finishing up bucking his belt.

This is so humiliating.

R: I hope you enjoyed! Sorry it’s a little all over the place I will go back and fix it later!! I’m also super sorry this took so long for me to get around to >~< tbh this is kinda ass but I’m willing to own up to being lazy & sick 🫡

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ashpkat · 1 year ago

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can we talk about this cover? besides the fact that it’s my favorite cover of the series and gorgeous but also the contents of the cover

first off, WHERE ARE THEY? there’s not a place in the magisterium that looks like this, i suppose you could argue that it’s the elemental prison, but i don’t think it was described like that? and i remember in someone else’s post, don’t remember who, that it looks like european architecture (which. don’t fact check me.) and going with that at the very least this isn’t the magisterium and is somewhere else in the world entirely, does this potentially mean The Bronze Key we got was not the original concept at all?

to add onto this! let’s talk about the knife calls holding. it isn’t miri. i suppose you could attribute the odd design to the fact that none of them are consistent in the covers, but the one thing that throughout books has stayed the same is the design of Semiramis. it gets used several times for chapter headers and ALWAYS looks similar and or exactly the same. and at the very least, if the knife he’s holding was meant to be Semiramis, don’t you think they wouldn’t have curved the blade? kept it straight? here’s my conclusion, the knife he’s holding is The Cosmos Blade. the original title for The Bronze Key.

but.. why? why does the cover not align with the book? this is the ONLY book it happens in.

(with the sort of exception of The Golden Tower, my friend has a theory that it’s aaron on the dragon and not alex and they resorted to just making alex blond in the book but. whatever not the point because there’s not as much evidence)

and the original translated synopsis— which might be fake and i’ve never confirmed as real so take this with a grain of salt— does NOT match up with the book at all. could it be that more than midway through the book they completely scrapped the idea? opting to go with The Bronze Key to fit with the metal theme? could this explain why the cover took so long to come out? there’s more i want to say on this but i cannot find the words for this.

i don’t doubt that through the production of a book ideas will change, but let’s talk about when these changes occur. unlike with small changes like The Copper Gauntlets change from The Copper Mask, this change actually is huge. because in TCG, a mask IS mentioned, constantine’s mask. but in The Bronze Key, not even a passing mention on anything that could remotely be The Cosmos Blade is mentioned. and let’s talk about the under use of european mages, yeah it gets sort of explained why they hate makaris in The Golden Tower with maugris but let’s not forget! maugris was implied to be improvised by the authors.

there are tumblr posts from the authors mentioning the european mages, saying that yes they would get mentioned in the third book or at the very least the fourth one, posts that just BARELY predate The Bronze Key.

this post isn’t me being sour that aaron died in TBK, because let’s be honest here, he was always going to die. nor is this me being sour that calron was never canon, because i could care the fuck less if it was (my main issue with callmara is how underdeveloped it is and how it totally watered down tamara’s character to a love interest like they did with celia. im a callmara fan, but everytime i read it in the books I GAG).

this is me being sour at the AUTHORS for choosing to devote more time to their already established and more popular book series. they had too much on their plate. they chose to opt for a potentially more simple plot for time purposes with each book having less and less pages. they needed better time management skills. they are NYC best sellers and yet, and yet, these final three books are lack luster in quality as their own series thrive and continue to climb in popularity.

so yeah. justice for The Cosmos Blade.

#fuck this got long #The Cosmos Blade #I’m never giving it up. never ever #maybe i’ll write a fic on the cosmos blade #would i get sued? idk let me check #there is a chance i might #magisterium #the magisterium #callum hunt #aaron stewart #jasper dewinter #tamara rajavi

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helaenasdreamfyres · 6 months ago

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Character Challenge Hosted by @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

Challenge: Write a scene between your character and any other character within the RP that not currently written or playable.

💛🌙💛

———————————————————————

Helaena walked around Dragonstone, searching for her eldest son, Jaehaerys. She assumed he was somewhere hiding, probably getting lost in a book or looking up to the sky.

He was a strange child, or at least, that was what others had observed about him. His most notable feature was his twelve fingers, an extra finger on each hand. Something you wouldn’t consider “normal” on a person, more so a Prince. Yet, it was more than just his unusual fingers that caused people to gossip.

He was moody, much like his father. He hated being by lots of people, much like is mother. He preferred to spend his time reading and learning rather than training in the yard. He loved to be outside in nature, and observe every small detail.

When he spoke, his tone was never joyful. He would state things the way they were, never shy around any topic. This would sometimes make the adults around him laugh, and sometimes make the adults scold him.

But Helaena knew he never meant any offense. He was never mean, he was gentle, he was incredibly intelligent for his age. She loved her eldest son more than words could ever express.

The Princess had walked by her sons chambers, then peeking in, noticed there was no one inside. She walked in and looked a bit harder to then find that Jaehaerys was underneath his bed. At first glance, you would never notice him. But upon closer examination, you could see a large book covering his face, and his hands holding the sides.

Helaena crouched down and spoke to him. “My sweetling, why are you hiding under your bed? I’m sure reading on your chair would be a lot easier.” She chucked and bent further to look her son in the eyes.

Jaehaerys set his book on the floor and looked up at Helaena. He was doing his signature pouty face, the one that reminded her so much of Aegon. “I don’t want to do anything today. I’m staying here.” He replied.

“Was the journey here so tiring that you must recover under your bed all day?” Helaena laughed once more. It had only been two days since they had settled into their new home on Dragonstone, the children were still curious about the place. Well, her other two children were, Jaehaerys remained indifferent.

Her son moved himself towards her. “I’ve already read about Dragonstone many times. I don’t want to walk around with brother and sister. I don’t want to explore.” He said.

Helaena reached down and smoothed his hair back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, my love, but everyone has been wondering where you’ve been. There’s no need to hide.”

“I don’t care. Every new person here will think I’m weird, I don’t want to see them.” Jaehaerys said, in a neutral tone. Helaena’s heart hurt at those words. She had tried hard to keep the horrible things people had said about him away from his ears, yet somehow it had not worked.

Maybe others would have tried to comfort him, tell him it’s not true and such things. But Helaena knew he wasn’t the child who wanted to hear those kind of words. She knew all too well from her own childhood.

People had always said the same things about her; that she was weird, that she needed to be around more people, that she was rude, that she wasn’t fit to be in court. Her family members had tried to comfort her by telling her these weren’t true, but she had known they were lying, which made it even more painful.

So she would not do the same with her own son. “You are quite different from a lot of people, that is true. But that is what makes you even more special, sweetling. If you want to read all day, so be it. If you want to be by yourself, there is nothing wrong with that. But don’t let how others feel about you make you sad. Show them you’re just fine the way you are. You have no need to hide who you are.”

Jaehaerys was silent, listening to her talk. When she finally finished, he slowly slid out from under his bed, wearing less of a pouty face than moments ago.

“May I go in you and father’s chambers? Your windows are bigger than mine, and I want to look outside while I read.” He looked up at Helaena, his light purple eyes staring at her own violet eyes, waiting for a response.

She smiled. “Of course, Jaehaerys, let us take a walk there together!” She grabbed his hand and the two began to walk.

#asongofgoldenfireandblackblood #helaena targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #rp blog #roleplay #asoiaf roleplay

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starlitangels · 2 years ago

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The High School Years

@darlin-collins Here’s the thing I mentioned I should write in that little exchange we had! 4.3k words I gave Guy a last name and I gave him a last name that I thought was funny because it’s meta

—

Freshman Year

“Now, this is what’s considered a ‘plot hole,’ but it’s important to bear in mind that when it comes to fictional narratives, nothing is ever going to be a perfectly-constructed story. There are always going to be holes. Just like there are in real life.”

Guy snickered and leaned over to Geordi. “That’s what she said,” he muttered.

Geordi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the snort.

Mrs. Hensler narrowed her eyes. “Guy Erikson, if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to separate you and Geordi.”

Guy curled his shoulders forward. “Sorry, Mrs. Hensler,” he said.

The English teacher sighed and turned back to the board. “However,” she continued lecturing, “This isn’t exactly a plot hole if you know what to look for. So, your main assignment for class today is to use the critical thinking skills we’ve gained from our readings this year and work with your table and figure out how that hole is not actually a hole at all.”

Guy sputtered and dissolved into a fit of giggles. Which made Geordi start laughing at him.

Mrs. Hensler sighed. “Guy. Geordi. Opposite corners of the room,” she said, pointing to each of them and then their new seat in turn. Geordi didn’t complain as he scooped up his binder and backpack and moved to the table in the back corner of the room. Guy lolled his head back with a dramatic sigh before going to the table directly in front of Mrs. Hensler’s desk. Which only ever had one other occupant.

“Hi,” he said, dropping into the seat across the circular table from them. “I’m Guy.”

They grunted.

Mrs. Hensler eyed Guy with annoyance in her face, before turning back to the room. “You have until the last ten minutes of class to work on this with your table. Then we’ll present your findings,” she announced, and went to sit at her desk.

—

I pulled a piece of paper out of my binder and a pen, ignoring the newcomer to my table completely as I flipped open our book.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the newcomer said. He wasn’t tall—compared to me, anyway—and he was skinny and blond.

“Nope,” I replied.

“I’m Guy,” he repeated.

“Said that already.”

“Yeah. And you didn’t give me your name. So I’m giving you mine again,” he said. He put a lot of excessive inflection into his words. “And I’m gonna keep giving you mine until you give me yours.”

I blinked at my paper, reining in my temper, and grunted. I wasn’t stupid. I knew why Hensler put him at my table. No one ever sat near me. I was quiet. I tended to be grumpy. A lot of my classmates found me intimidating. Especially considering I was tall and muscular for a high schooler. I was one of the people that even the jarheaded jocks knew better than to mess with.

“C’mooon,” Guy groaned. “You can at least give me your name.”

“I take it you don’t pay attention during roll call?”

He puckered his lips, pretending to think. “No.”

I grunted again. “Didn’t think so.”

Scribbling some notes from where I’d put a sticky note as a bookmark in my book, I continued to ignore the intruder at my table.

“Have I seen you somewhere before? I mean, besides just this class?” he asked.

“We’ve gone to the same school since middle school.” I made another note on my lined piece of paper. “We just don’t run with the same crowd.”

“Do you run with any crowd at all?”

I growled in frustration and slammed my pen down on the table. “Do you ever shut up? I’m trying to get this assignment done. I don’t need a social visit distracting me.”

“I meeeaaannn… we’re supposed to be working together.” He gave me a bounce of his eyebrow. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Hey, if you don’t wanna be my friend, that’s fine. I get it,” he said, voice going higher-pitched—and cracking like he hadn’t finished puberty yet (wouldn’t surprise me). “But we are supposed to work together.”

“Hm.” I flipped a few pages and made some more notes.

“Have I offended you or are you always like this?”

“Always.”

“Why?”

“Easier.”

Guy sighed dramatically, throwing his head back, and leaned back in his chair. “This is like talking to a brick wall!” he complained.

“Then stop talking and read,” I snapped.

Guy lowered his head to look at me out of the corner of my eye. “I still don’t know your name.”

“Great.”

“If you don’t give it to me I’m gonna start calling you a nickname.”

“That’d certainly be a first. No one calls me anything.”

He put his elbows on the table and braced his chin in both hands, lips puckered again in thought. I glanced up, briefly met his eyes, and then looked back down at my piece of paper. His eyes were a greenish-blue and framed with long, dark gold lashes.

And I hated my teenage hormones for the way my heart stuttered when I met his eyes. Why is he cute? I thought grumpily.

He giggled.

“What?” I grumbled. “What are you smiling at?”

“We’re gonna be friends,” he declared.

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t want to be friends with me. I’m no fun.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone.”

“I think you’re fun!”

I shot him a look with narrowed eyes. “You literally just said talking to me was like talking to a brick wall.”

“Well… yeah. But I think you’re gonna be soft and sweet on the inside!”

I full-on glared at him. “Try me, Erikson,” I snapped.

He raised a brow. “At least let me buy you dinner first.”

I slammed my pen down again. “That’s it,” I growled. “Say something like that again, and you’ll be going to the nurse’s office with a concussion.”

Guy just winked.

I had to commend his audacity, if nothing else.

“Anyway, we’re totally gonna be friends.”

I rolled my eyes. “Get reading,” I ordered.

“Tell me your name first.”

I snorted. “I’ll tell you when you earn it.”

“Fiiine.” He hunched over his book.

I started to write my notes in blissful silence, ignoring the light chatter of the other groups. My table was usually empty, so table activities tended to just be me. Unless a teacher was particularly mean and made me join another table.

After a moment, my pen stilled on my page. “Hey,” I said softly. Guy looked up. “Wh… why…” I huffed in frustration. I’d never been great with talking to people. “This is an honors class. I’ve graded your quizzes before. You do well. You talk with big words and you usually use them correctly. So why do you act like such an idiot?”

Guy gaped at me, like he hadn’t realized I was paying attention. To be honest, I hadn’t meant to. It was just a recurring pattern I’d noticed.

He shut his mouth and shrugged. “Being serious and mature is boring,” he said.

“Maybe there’s something to be admired in that,” I said to myself.

If Guy heard me, he didn’t respond.

—

Sophomore Year

I stood in the back of the auditorium, leaned against the wall with my arms crossed. Assemblies were stupid and I hated them.

A blond head of messy hair sidled up beside me. “Psst!” Guy hissed, looking up at me. “Bored?”

“Unbelievably.”

He held a hand out. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I know a way to make you un-bored.” He grinned mischievously at me. “C’mon!”

I planted my hand on top of his. “Fine,” I grumbled.

Snickering like a gremlin, Guy dragged me to one of the side-doors to the auditorium. He waited and peeked around to check for nosy teachers and then opened the door. We both slipped through.

We ran down the abandoned hallway and out the door to the music wing, spilling us out into the parking lot. “Heh-heh-heh!” Guy exclaimed. “They never watch the band room doors!”

He pulled me along to a beat-up red sedan. “Come on! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” He bounced excitedly as he fumbled with a set of keys, jammed one in the passenger door lock, and unlocked the car. He opened the door for me and waved me in.

“Where are we going?”

“Ice creeeaaam!” He shut the door and ran around the car to get in the driver’s seat.

I snorted. “The last thing you need is more sugar, Erikson.”

“I know. But it’s delicious.”

I snorted as I sorted through my backpack. I swore under my breath. “I don’t have my wallet. A friend picked me up this morning so I didn’t think to bring it.”

Guy blew a raspberry. “Don’t worry about it. I’m buying.”

“Erikson—”

“What? It was my idea! I should be buying.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

He shrugged. “Too bad.”

“Have you even had your license long enough for you to have friends in the car? You have to have had it for six months if there isn’t someone over twenty-one in the passenger seat.”

“I’ve had it for six months as of last week,” Guy informed me matter-of-factly. Still grinning like a madman.

He drove us to the diner up the road from West Dahlia High and hopped out.

“Don’t get out! I’m getting your door,” he said as I froze with my hand on the handle. I rolled my eyes and got out of the car on my own. “Awww. C’moon! I was gonna be a gentleman! Why must you spoil my chivalry?”

“Stop being dramatic and get in the diner,” I snapped, waving him toward the doors.

He held his hand out for me, that mischievous look on his face.

I took it with a dramatic sigh and let him drag me inside.

We ordered and found a small corner table to sit and eat our ice cream at.

Guy talked with his hands and always had a smile on his face. He was exuberant and funny, never taking my attitude personally.

Last year, he’d declared that we’d be friends. This year, I was begrudgingly accepting to myself that we were.

Especially when he gesticulated so wildly that he knocked his cup of ice cream over, spilling the melted goop gathering at the bottom all over the table. He swore and scrambled to clean it up, apologizing profusely to the staff. I just watched, keeping my spoon firmly in my mouth to hide my smile.

He was still cute, and I still hated myself for thinking so.

—

Junior Year

Guy stared shamelessly at me, slack-jawed, as I pulled into the parking stall next to his and swung my leg off my motorcycle while killing the engine. “Since when do you have your motorcycle license?”

I pulled my helmet off and snorted. “Got it over the summer. Been saving up for a bike since I was thirteen. Always knew I wanted one.”

Guy blinked several times. “I think watching you get off that thing is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Erikson.”

“No, no. I’m serious. Dead serious. That was hot.”

“Get in the school before you say something even stupider.” I tucked my keys in my pocket and clipped my helmet to my backpack strap before marching toward the school entrance.

Guy stumbled after me after a moment, tripping on his own toes. He was getting taller, but still shorter than me.

I slung an arm around his shoulders and yanked him to my side, giving him a noogie. “You ever gonna fill out or are you gonna have twig limbs forever?” I asked, smirking while Guy tried—and failed—to get out of my grip.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he protested. “I am what’s called a late bloomer. So I'm going to look young for a long time. You’ll be jealous when we’re fifty and I still look thirty!”

I snorted. “No. When we’re fifty, I will still look thirty. You will look like you’re twelve, at this rate.”

“You are so mean!”

I just laughed and let him go in order to open the door to the school. I let him pass through it first before ducking inside myself.

“Okay, but seriously,” Guy said, not sounding serious at all, “why are you so resistant to me acknowledging how hot you were getting off that bike?”

With an exaggerated eye-roll, I pulled the leather motorcycle jacket that I’d also recently bought off as we went to our lockers and didn’t reply, just putting my combination in and opening the door. I hung the jacket up on one of the coat hooks inside, my helmet on the other. In the corner of my eye, Guy was actually trying to be subtle for once as his eyes slowly traveled up my body and he looked away when I started to turn toward him to shut my locker door. But as I looked away, he resumed right where he left off.

“Did you grow even more over the summer?” he complained.

I laughed and leaned against the lockers. “Guy, we established two years ago that you’re never gonna get taller than me.”

He pouted dramatically. “I might!”

I snorted. “You won’t.” I licked and bit my lower lip, ignoring Guy looking me up and down again. “So how was your summer? Enjoy your time back in Maine with your… aunt and uncle, was it?”

“Yeah. It was fun. Missed the group and all the dumb stuff we get up to but I liked hanging out with my family for a couple months. Next summer they wanna take me to New York. A last hurrah before my senior year of high school.”

“Sounds fun.” I nodded.

He gestured for me to follow him with a wave as the warning bell rang. “C’mon. Walk me to class.”

“Why?”

“Becaaauuussseee! You’re my best friend and your class is close to miiinnne!”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Today only since it’s the first day of school. After that, you’ll have to get lost by yourself.”

“I’m not gonna get lost! I spent two whole years here!”

“And I still get texts from you every couple weeks, ‘Heeelp! I’m by room three-oh-two and don’t know how to get back to the band room!’ like a child.” My Guy impression was pretty good after two years.

He sighed. “Pleeease?”

“I’m already walking with you, moron.”

He perked up. “Yay!”

The day crawled by, and at the end of it, I was leaning against my bike in the parking lot, waiting for Guy to get to his sedan.

“Get on,” I said, holding out my spare helmet that had been tucked in the under-seat storage compartment. “We’re going for a ride.”

“Uh… I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He took the helmet anyway.

“Scared, Erikson?” I swung my leg over the bike, noting Guy’s eyes quickly sweep the length of my leg as I did so.

“No! I’m… apprehensive.”

“Which is another way of saying you’re scared. Hop on.”

Guy put his backpack—and mine—in the passenger seat of his sedan and very carefully climbed onto the back of my bike. “Wh… where are the handles for me? Under the seat?” He clicked the helmet into place.

“Sure but they suck. Geordi tried ‘em and about fell off last week before you got back from Maine. Put your arms around my waist and hold on tight.”

Apparently, Guy didn’t need to be told twice. He wrapped his arms around me as I turned over the engine.

I pulled my helmet on, put up the kickstand, and back-walked out of the parking stall.

“Hold on, Erikson!” I called.

“What? Wh-why-AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

I laughed as I tore out of the parking lot and down the road. Guy’s grip around my waist tightened to the point where it almost distracted me. But I managed to keep my focus on the road and driving.

We went around the neighborhood, not going for too far or for too long. Guy slowly relaxed enough to stop screaming directly in my ear, and actually started laughing. I smiled behind the tinted visor of my helmet. He was so cute. Not that I’d ever admit it to his face or anything—I couldn’t imagine how insufferable he’d get if I did—but I could think it if I wanted.

Guy’s arms, twiggy and skinny though they were, were stronger than I expected. But there was comfort in having them around my waist. Guy Erikson was the only person who was gentle with me all the time. Including my family. He never shouted. He never got violent. He’d rather give me a hug than a friendly punch to the shoulder. He was the only one who saw past the rough-and-tough exterior I put on like armor. He wasn’t intimidated by or scared of me ever.

And I more than appreciated him for it.

I stopped in the hills outside of Dahlia on the north side of town. It looked out over the whole city. “Hey Erikson. Check it out,” I said, killing the engine and hitting the kickstand into place with my foot but not yet leaning the bike on it.

Guy took in the view. “Wow,” he said, yanking the helmet off. “This is beautiful.”

His eyes flicked over to me on the last word. I pretended not to notice.

The same way I pretended I wasn’t looking at him instead of the view as we both dismounted the bike. Dorky, nerdy beanpole who I could throw over my shoulder like nothing—who had somehow become my best friend. The first friend I’d really made in years. The only one who stuck around. Who thought I was worth spending time with. Geordi had been added to the list not long after by proximity, but Guy was the first. He was the only person I wanted to share things with. Good news and bad, I always thought of telling Guy first.

All summer, he greeted me with a “good morning” text. And even if we didn’t send a single other text to each other all day, I’d still get a “goodnight” before he went to bed.

I swallowed down all the words I wanted to say. The ones bubbling up in my throat. I like you, Guy. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else. Please stay in my life forever. In whatever form that takes. Now wasn’t the time. It never seemed like it was the time.

“C’mon, Erikson. Let’s get you back to your car so your parents don’t flip about where you’ve been.”

“I mean. If you follow me home…” He put his tongue between his teeth as he grinned. “We can show them why I was home late!”

“If you want.”

“Will your parents care?”

I leveled a look at him and he shut his mouth. “My parents would neither care nor notice if I vanished for a week until the school called them to say I had three unexcused absences,” I grumbled.

“Okay. Theeennn… let’s go!”

I smirked and climbed back on the bike. Smirking a little to myself at the way Guy’s eyes focused quite squarely on my backside as I swung my leg over it. “Get on, you pervert,” I teased.

“What if I’d rather get you off?” he asked suggestively.

“Do you want me to leave you out here in the middle of nowhere so the forest ghosts can come get you?”

“There are no forest ghosts, you goof,” Guy joked as he climbed on behind me.

“There are too,” I retorted sarcastically, not actually believing my own words. “That house like a mile back from here is totally haunted.”

“Just because it’s kinda overgrown doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”

“They say the guy who disappeared the day Surge broke when we were kids over at Wonder World lives there,” I teased.

Guy just snorted. “Yeah right.”

“You know I’m just messing with you, Erikson.”

“I know.”

“Ready to go?”

“Ready!”

I gunned the engine and we tore down the road back toward Dahlia.

—

Senior Year

“Honeeey! I’m hooome!” Guy called as he threw open the door to my parents’ house. I jolted and jumped up from where I’d been sitting on the floor in my bedroom, running out of the room and thanking the whims of the universe for my parents not being home.

“Since when are you back from New York?!” I shouted as I ran for the stairs.

When I reached the top of them, I froze, looking down at the entrance hall.

Guy had finally filled out. He was still skinny and a couple inches shorter than me, but his shoulders were broader and he actually had muscles. His favorite T-shirt was stretched tighter across his chest than it had ever been and I couldn’t help but stare for a moment at the lines of strain in the fabric.

I shook myself out of it and bolted down the stairs. Nearly tackling him with the force of the impact when I slammed him into a hug. I buried my face into where his shoulder met his neck and fought back tears.

“You’re home,” I said softly.

“Awww. Did you miss me?” he teased.

I shoved him away from me. “Never mind. Go back to New York.”

“Nooo… don’t push me away—I miiiiissed you! Ihaven’tseenyouforthreemooonths! Pleeease?”

He held his arms out and wiggled his fingers.

I sighed and went back to hugging him. “Fine. You train wreck.”

“Excited for school to start next week? Our last year!”

“Yeah. Sure.”

He nuzzled his face against the side of my head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I grumbled.

“Wanna go get some pizza?”

I took a deep breath. “... Sure.”

“Great! I’m driving. And then you’re gonna stay the night at my place.”

“Why?”

“How long have you been upstairs in your room?”

“Shut up.”

“Your family’s fighting again, aren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No. But you’re my best friend. And if that means dragging you away from a bad day, then that’s what I’m gonna do. Now come on. I’m hungry and I want pizza. Specifically, I want pizza with you.”

I let him drag me outside and to his beat-up red sedan. He opened the door for me as he always did before getting in himself.

“So,” he said as he turned over the engine. “I had a lot of time to think while I was in New York.”

“That sounds bad for you,” I said flatly.

“Shut up!” he protested even as he laughed. “As I was saying. I did a lot of thinking. And…” He cleared his throat, waiting at the bottom of the driveway for the road to be clear. “And… and, uh…”

“What is it, Erikson?” I prompted, as surly as usual.

“I missed you, okay?” Guy exclaimed.

“We’ve established that. Back in the house.”

“No. I… I mean… dammit. Just. Come here.” Keeping the car stationary at the bottom of the driveway, he let go of the wheel, grabbed me, pulled me closer to him—

And planted a full kiss on my mouth.

I’d never understood the rom-com teen movie junk about feeling or seeing fireworks when someone kissed you—

Until right then, as the whole universe seemed to click into place. Like the answer to every internal conflict I had was resolved in an instant.

Still, as Guy pulled back, my eyes were wide in surprise.

“Look, I know you don’t feel the same about me. You’ve said before that you’re not really the type to fall in love and I know that—but I’ve liked you for years and I couldn’t stop thinking about you all summer and there was this moment when I was on the ferry with my aunt and uncle and cousins and we were going to the Statue of Liberty where I just really wanted to have you with me, holding my hand and I just—mmph!”

I cut him off by dragging him into another kiss, shoving one hand into his thick blond hair and twisting my fingers around his waves.

After a moment, he sighed and leaned into it.

“I… I really like you too, Guy,” I whispered breathlessly, barely brushing his lips with mine. “And I missed you so much while you were gone. It was way too quiet here without you.” I kissed him again.

He blinked at me. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me by just my first name.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

“Do we… wanna skip the pizza and just go straight to my parents’ place?” Guy asked.

As if in response, my stomach grumbled.

“Never mind then,” Guy decided. “We’re getting pizza first.”

He righted himself in the driver’s seat—looking a little dazed—swallowed, and finally was able to turn onto the road.

I slouched down in my seat. “What… what does this make us?” I asked quietly.

“Well… I was hoping it meant I get to introduce myself as your boyfriend now.”

“Okay,” I agreed. Maybe a little too quickly.

“Wait—really?!” He perked up, lighting up like a chandelier.

I sighed in exasperation. “Just… don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t! You won’t! I’m gonna be the best boyfriend ever!”

Impulsively, I leaned across the front seat bench and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He squeaked and turned bright red. “I’m glad you’re home, Guy.”

He shot me a quick look, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Glad to be home, uhhh… honey!”

“We’ll have to workshop your pet names later, you moron,” I muttered.

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Guy #Redacted Honey #Redacted Pizza Guy #Honey #Guy #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

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nik-knight · 1 year ago

Note

Chapter 1: Angel Cat Chapter 2: Tracy’s House Chapter 3: Their First Rain Chapter 4: A Dulled Discovery Chapter 5: Somebody to Hold Chapter 6: A Touch Too Much Chapter 7: The Cracks in Your Frame [WARNING: There are mentions of sexual and domestic abuse in this chapter. (It's more of a near-miss and very little of it is described in detail.) These mentions are written in italicized paragraphs and can be skipped without missing the plot. Please take caution when reading.] It hadn’t taken him long to pack his bags the following morning. He had a few flashy outfits left over from… before, but otherwise, he wasn’t a cat of great fortune. The few possessions he had to his name were just the collar around his neck and a singular red fishy kick toy. His one duffel bag fit everything he owned, and although it was convenient when one always needed to be ready to get up and run, he still wished he had somewhere to put his meager possessions and leave them there, yet Crowley still had nothing close to what he could call home.

He wouldn’t find a home here, either.

Although he was still upset about what he’d heard the previous night, he could not truly be angry. Anathema was a good person. She was smart and confident and even offered Crowley a place to stay during his fostering. He had no right to blame Anathema for his own shortcomings as a housecat. Still, she had been kind to him during his time in Tadfield, and he would not repay her kindness by taking up more of her time and space when he was obviously not wanted here.

He also did not want her to fret and worry when she would find that Crowley was nowhere to be found while he was under her care. So he placed his duffel bag carefully at the foot of the bed and headed out to tell Anathema that he would spare her the trouble of fostering him any longer. Then he would take the nearest bus back into the city and pray that the shelter hadn’t already given away his room.

He took a deep breath and left the guest bedroom.

And then there was a loud crash and the sound of Anathema shouting from the kitchen.

Ana!

Crowley was already running to the kitchen. What happened? Was Anathema hurt? Did she burn herself, or– or did something fall on her? He needed to check and make sure she was all right. Crowley rushed into the kitchen’s doorway and saw Anathema pressing herself against the cupboards with her hands braced on the kitchen counter as a little mouse scampered across the kitchen floor. He didn’t hesitate even a moment.

“I’ve got it!” After finding the source of Anathema’s distress, Crowley leapt forward and grabbed the offending rodent in his hands, holding it tight so that it couldn’t wriggle away. He stood and lifted the little mouse in triumph.

Anathema breathed a heavy woosh in a relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank god. Thanks, Crowley.” She visibly relaxed when she saw him get up with the mouse in hand. “I was having a stressful enough morning without a mouse running across the tabletop as I was working.” She gestured to the table where she had more of her witch knick-knacks, an open laptop, her phone, and that one big old book she took everywhere with her.

“Oh, um, what’s been stressing you out?” Crowley tentatively asked. Maybe if he could get her to bring up the issue first, he could simply ease her worries with the news that he was leaving instead of awkwardly exiling himself.

Anathema rubbed at her temple and sighed again with the sound of exhaustion. “A lot’s been going on recently between all the prophecies I’ve been trying to decipher and everything that’s been going on with Newt…” She waved her hand at her phone on the table, indicating that she’d been talking with someone.

Newt? Who the hell was Newt?

“Newt? Do you have some sort of other lizard pet that I don’t know about?” He thumbed the top of the captive mouse’s head idly as he spoke.

That at least got a chuckle out of her. “No, Newt is my, er, boyfriend? We haven’t officially given it a name but, yeah, we’re kind of together.” She took this moment to return to her seat at the table. “He’s gone back to university to study computer science, but he’s having a hard time, and he’s pretty much been messaging me every minute of the day.”

With perfect timing, her phone buzzed with yet another text message. Anathema just grunted and flipped her phone over on its screen.

“See what I mean?” She took her glasses off to rub at the bridge of her nose. “I have to tell him that I need a bit of space, just a little bit of a break from all the chaos while I’m working. At least that’s what Eve thought was a good idea.”

Oh.

Was that who Ana and Eve were talking about yesterday? Perhaps it wasn’t Crowley who was upsetting Anathema after all…

But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t also adding stress to her life.

“Sorry, Ana…” Crowley began, keeping his eyes down, glad he still kept his sunglasses on. He felt his ears fold back on his head. “I must not be making it any easier with me being here.” Crowley honestly didn’t expect her to simply give him a smile and a good-natured chuckle, but she did.

“Well, you keeping the houseplants and garden in check for me has certainly made things a little easier. Not to mention having a mouser in the house is a nice perk.” She gestured at the little mouse in Crowley’s hands as an example.

The hope that Crowley had been trying to keep dammed up suddenly burst back into his chest and filled his heart, leaving that terrible empty feeling he held last night behind. He did his best to keep his face from heating up, not used to being praised.

“Er, yeah. ‘S no problem, ya know.” He looked down at the mouse in his hands and quickly found a way to restore his reputation as the not-at-all-good-or-nice cat before things got too mushy. He lifted the mouse up towards his face so he could snarl at it. “That reminds me… I haven’t had any breakfast yet, and it looks like I’ve just caught myself a juicy little morsel.” His threatening must have worked, for the little mouse was now covering its eyes with its tiny paws, and Anathema was making a slightly concerned face.

“Maybe you could get rid of the mouse… outside? I’d rather not have to see that if I’m being honest.”

“Right, right, fine,” He mockedly groused. “As my human wishes. Can’t have her esteemed witchiness bear witness to nature’s most base atrocity.” With this, he did an over-the-top dramatic bow before slipping out of the kitchen and through the door to the back garden.

Turning back to her work in the kitchen with a heavy eye roll at the cat’s dramatics, Anathema wondered when Crowley had begun to consider her as his human.

***

Crowley shut the back door to the garden behind him and sat down in a patch of grass to think.

So, Anathema didn’t hate him. Or, at least, she probably didn’t hate him. If nothing else, she found him useful in his ability to tend to the garden and keep pests out. That was definitely a good thing. Even if he were a less-than-perfect companion, he could still be useful to her as a gardener and a mouser, and that was good.

Maybe there was still a sliver of hope for him after all. It was a better plan than fleeing, at least. If he couldn’t be a good companion, he might at least be able to earn his keep. It could work if he played his cards right, he could make this work. He just had to—

Squeak!

“Oi!” Crowley glared down at the mouse he was holding in his fist. “I’m trying to think here! What the hell do you want?”

The little brown mouse grappled at Crowley’s hand where he was squeezing the thing a little tighter than what would have been comfortable for it. Crowley quickly eased his grip so that it could breathe again, but then took the mouse in his other hand by grabbing it by its scruff and holding it in front of his face so he could properly growl at it.

“All right, here’s the deal,” he snarled with as much menace as he could muster, making sure his sunglasses slid down his nose just enough so that the mouse could see his slitted yellow eyes. “I’ve got plenty of food inside the cottage that doesn’t require me spitting out bones and fur to eat. So, since I’m feeling generous today, I’m going to let you live as long as you don’t come scampering back into the cottage uninvited. Undersssstood?” He hissed out the last bit, showing off his sharp canines for dramatic effect.

The mouse hanging by its scruff just blinked at him with his beady little eyes, then turned its head to the side, seeming much more interested in something just behind Crowley’s shoulder.

“Oi, pay attention when I’m threatening you! What’s got you so distracted?” Crowley looked over his shoulder and only saw one of the blackberry bushes that was kept in the garden. With autumn in full swing, the blackberries were ripe and ready to pick. Crowley turned back to see the rodent reaching out with a mouse’s equivalent of grabby-hands.

“Really?” Crowley growled. “I decide, with the kindness from my blackened heart, to spare you, and you’re asking to eat from my blackberry bush?” The bush was Anathema’s, not his, but he wasn’t up to explaining to the mouse his current housing predicament.

The mouse replied by pitifully rubbing its tummy with its paws and letting out the tiniest little squeak that sounded a lot like it was saying, “Please?”

This brought out a long deep growl from within Crowley’s throat as he fully bared his teeth. The little mouse covered his eyes with his paws again, not wanting to see its own imminent demise.

Crowley continued to growl until the mouse seemed rightfully terrified. Only after the little bugger started trembling did Crowley finally cave.

“...One.”

The mouse moved one paw from its eye to peek at Crowley in confusion. It gave a curious tiny little squeak in question.

“One,” Crowley repeated in a growl. “You can have just one blackberry. Only one, understand?” Crowley held up one finger with his other hand to affirm the point. The mouse dropped his paws and nodded eagerly at the cat. Its feet kicked about in fervor for its promised blackberry. It squeaked at Crowley, promising he understood the terms.

“Good,” he nodded once firmly, yet still bared his teeth threateningly. “Because if I find more than one single blackberry missing, I swear that I’ll–”

“Are you talking to that cute little mouse, my dear?” Aziraphale’s voice chimed to the left of Crowley, where the angel cat was suddenly standing from behind the garden’s low wooden fence. He was smiling, and his huge fluffy tail was high and swaying behind him, seeming amused.

Crowley just stared at the angel cat’s sudden appearance for a moment, then quickly threw the mouse over his shoulder. There was the very brief sound of a startled squeak whizzing through the air, then silence.

“What mouse.”

The two cats stared at each other (Well, really it was more Crowley staring blankly at Aziraphale, and Aziraphale glancing back and forth between Crowley and the little brown mouse that was currently scarfing down berry after berry in its mouth from the bush it had landed in) in silence for another few moments before Aziraphale eventually cleared his throat and tried to begin another conversation.

“Er, hello, my dear,” Aziraphale began with a kind smile. “Are you having a good morning?”

“Uh-huh,” Crowley replied dumbly, taking in the beautiful scene of the angel cat standing with the morning sun rising behind him in the east. He blinked again, realizing his subpar answer and trying again. “I mean, yeah. Can’t complain. H-how about you, angel? What’re you doing out here on this side of town so early?”

“Oh, yes, well,” Aziraphale stammered, his cheeks turning ever so slightly more pink at the nickname “angel.” Crowley tried not to smile knowing that he was able to fluster the other cat at least a fraction of how he himself was flustered. “Madame has one of her ‘seance’ appointments this morning at the cottage, and I’ve never really fancied sticking around for them. It’s all quite a bit of ruckus, and her patrons usually are confused as to why Madame has a fluffy white cat rather than a spooky black cat that most people would expect to belong to a medium.” It was hardly half a second after he finished speaking that he realized his faux pas. “Oh! Not that black cats are necessarily spooky or frightening, my dear…” The angel cat’s hands began to wring themselves and he began to shuffle about uncomfortably. Crowley couldn’t have an uncomfortable angel, no, not on his watch.

“Nah, big spooky fan, me,” he said, waving off Aziraphale’s remark, then shrugged. “Besides, technically speaking, I’m not really a black cat.”

Aziraphale’s head tilted about 30°, the usual angle for a cat trying to aim their ears to take in information easier, and also the perfect angle for making Aziraphale look even more adorable than before. Crowley had to keep himself from wheezing at the sight.

“You’re not a black cat?” Aziraphale asked, looking befuddled.

“I mean, I look like I am on the surface, but I’m more of a calico.” He brushed his fingers through his auburn hair to illustrate. “That’s why the hair’s different than the fur, you know?” Next, he reached behind him to gather his tail and held it up a bit. “And even then the fur itself isn’t entirely black, it just seems like it is— whoa!”

Crowley didn’t even have the time to scramble backwards before Aziraphale leapt straight over the fence and landed perfectly on all fours right in front of Crowley, pushing himself towards the startled cat in an effort to get a better look at his tail. The thin tail slipped right out of Crowley’s fingers and whipped around at the sudden startling turn of events, but Aziraphale had no trouble snatching the tail up and delicately handling it so that he could inspect it closer.

“Oh, my dear, you’re right! There’s a little bit of brown and white sprinkled in! How marvelous!” Aziraphale, awed by this new discovery, did not notice Crowley’s brain attempting another hard reboot. The calico simply sat there, dumbfounded, as the angel cat gently petted and marveled at his multi-coloured tail. “A male calico with slit pupils? How incredibly rare! Oh, look at you, you’re just a marvel!” There was now a soft, high-pitched whistling noise coming from Crowley, not unlike a tea kettle. He was sure that if Aziraphale continued praising him like this, he’d never recover.

A few meters away, the backdoor of the cottage swung open.

“Crowley? I— Oh! Hey, Aziraphale!” Anathema gave a wave to him as she leaned out the door. Aziraphale turned to see her, suddenly dropping Crowley’s tail back in the calico’s lap and sheepishly getting back onto his two feet.

“Oh, Anathema, hello! Um, sorry to bother, I just wanted to stop by to say hello.” His face was a little flushed after being caught nearly sitting in Crowley’s lap. Luckily this gave Crowley the few extra seconds he needed to get his mind back online.

“No worries, Aziraphale.” She turned to Crowley who hadn’t even bothered looking away from Aziraphale. “Crowley, I was going to let you know that I’ll be heading into the city for the day to talk to Newt.” She smiled and looked back at Aziraphale. “You two are more than welcome to the cottage while I’m out.”

“Oh, how kind of you, my dear, thank you,” Aziraphale said, his hands now back to wringing and his ears pinned back shyly.

“Muh-huh…” Crowley mumbled, still not entirely back yet.

“All right, then. See you guys later!” Anathema closed the door and left the two cats to their own devices. As soon as Anathema turned and left, Aziraphale crouched down by Crowley and peered at him cautiously.

“I’m so sorry, my dear! I didn’t hurt you when I jumped over here, did I? Did I handle your tail too roughly?”

The rest of Crowley’s scattered brain finally came back to him after seeing the genuine worry on his angel’s face. “No, no, I’m all right, angel! I’m okay, I just didn’t expect it.”

“Then I’m sorry to have frightened you, my dear. You really are a marvel, though. I suppose I just couldn’t help myself.”

Crowley reached up to gently take one of Aziraphale’s hands in his if just to stop them from being wrung raw.

“How about this? You can marvel at me all you want as long as I get to do the same to you.” He added his devilish smirk to top it off. Seeing his sweet angel blush was more than worth it.

“Well,” Aziraphale huffed primly, though the colour of his cheeks told Crowley that he was quite fond of the idea. “I suppose it’s only fair after all.”

“Yep. Only fair.” With a bit of help from the angel cat, Crowley was up on his feet. “In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to come in, angel? Perhaps for a cup of tea and a squeezy treat?”

Aziraphale’s emerald eyes widened and his face lit up at the mention of a squeezy treat. Crowley also wasn’t sure if the angel’s wiggling hips meant he was excited or that Crowley would be pounced on again. Honestly, Crowley would be happy with either.

“Oh, that does sound lovely!”

“Then let’s go inside, angel. I’m sure we’ve got some biscuits somewhere as well.”

And Crowley led Aziraphale into the cottage, leaving the autumn chill of the garden behind… along with a very happy, very well-fed mouse whose face and paws were absolutely covered in blackberry juice.

***

Soon enough the two felines were comfortably tucked away in the living area of Jasmine Cottage. Crowley had meticulously prepared Aziraphale’s tea after asking about his preferences for milk and sugar, then watched rapturously as Aziraphale’s face lit up at the tray of tea, biscuits, and squeezy treats presented to him. Crowley had already enjoyed nearly ten minutes of Aziraphale’s happy supping when Aziraphale finally paused between bites of Jammie Dodgers to give the air a little sniff.

“This room doesn’t smell like you as much as I thought it would. Is this not the room you use as a den?” He peered around the room as if trying to decipher which of the materials in the room were specifically Crowley’s.

“Er, nah, it’s not a den. I just hang out here for the TV, really.” He gestured vaguely to the nice flat screen that Anathema had mounted on the wall. “I have a few streaming services on my phone, so I spend most of my time here or in the guest bedroom.”

“Oh, so the bedroom is where your den is? I suppose that makes more sense now that I think about it.” Aziraphale looked down sheepishly at the cup of tea in his hands, but Crowley could not for the life of him think why.

“Not really, I don’t, ah, have a den here, or anywhere, really.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, no?” Aziraphale was giving him a confused look. “As far as I’m aware, most cats usually set up a den where they’re most comfortable. So you don’t have a den here nor at the shelter?”

“Nah…” He waved the notion off, not yet willing to tell Aziraphale that there wasn’t really any place where he felt truly comfortable. Dens were something cats made in the places they called home, and Crowley had never known such a place. “I’m only here for a couple of weeks, and the shelter is full of kittens who like to knock things over and don’t really know the meaning of personal space, so…” He trailed off, hoping that his lacklustre explanation would suffice.

“Oh, right.” Aziraphale’s ears flattened on his head for a moment as he went back to staring into his tea. Crowley wasn’t sure of what to think of that. Maybe Tracy had taught him how to read tea leaves like Anathema tried to do with his whenever he drank tea. Eventually, after a few contemplative swishes of Aziraphale’s tail (that Crowley definitely hadn’t been staring at for a while now), the angel cat looked back up at him with a bit of a pinched smile. “Perhaps there’s something on that newfangled television set that you’d like to show me?”

Now this, Crowley could work with.

“So,” he began, eager to impress his mate (his wot???) with this random trivial knowledge. “You know the mastermind behind the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery, right?”

“Erm…” Aziraphale was now looking at Crowley like he had two heads. “No, I don’t think I’m familiar with their work…?”

“Really? Because she wrote some very popular books I thought you would’ve heard of.” He fished his phone out of one of his incredibly small pockets to try and pull something up on the Amazon Prime app.

“Oh? Who was she? What did she write?” Aziraphale, to Crowley’s silent delight, was now leaning forward with great interest now that he brought books into the mix.

“Novels, apparently. And movies! Or maybe they were turned into movies?” He continued to tap at his phone, but for the life of him couldn’t remember the title of the damned movie he was trying to find, and the guesses he was putting in weren’t getting any results.

“Right, yes, but what were the novels she wrote?”

“I think it was something like…” Crowley paused in his fruitless typing to try and think of the title he saw when he was going down that long Reddit thread about master spies. “Primed Pear Juice…? Her name was Austin or something–”

“Jane Austen’s Prime and Prejudice?” Aziraphale nearly shouted, sounding aghast and exasperated for some reason.

“Yeah, yeah, tha’s what I said, didn’t I?” He quickly typed in ‘Pride and’ before the rest of the title thankfully popped into the recommendations.

“You most certainly did not! You said Primed Pear Ju–”

“Found it!” Crowley exclaimed, cutting the flustered angel cat off. “I think you’ll like this one.” He quickly turned on the TV and got his phone to cast the movie on it.

“I think I’d like you to explain how you thought that Jane Austen was a–” He flinched back when the TV suddenly came to life. There was suddenly a black-and-white movie playing. The film’s title flashed on the screen followed by the subtitle, ‘Based on the dramatization of Jane Auten’s novel.’

Suddenly the angel cat’s attention was fully taken by regency-dressed characters on the screen. Aziraphale’s tail, which had previously been lazily swishing back and forth, was now stood straight up at attention as the cat leaned forward, closer to the TV.

Crowley smiled at his handiwork and settled comfortably back on the couch, content to watch his angel become fully enraptured by the film.

***

The rain stung against the shallow cut by his temple. When had he even been struck there? He didn’t know; he didn’t have time to think about it.

He had to run.

He didn’t know if he was being followed, but he wasn’t going to take the chance by looking back now. He weaved through the passing humans as well as he could. He kept his ears flat on his head and his tail wrapped around his left leg to try and have it blend in with the dark fabric of his pants. If someone saw him running out here, a cat without their human… It would be bad. Someone could call animal control, and if they caught him they’d scan his collar’s tag and send him right back to–

The collar.

Crowley grappled at his throat and fumbled for the clasp on the back of his neck, but his hands were slippery from the rain (hopefully only the rain), and his hands kept slipping off of it. Desperate, he dug his finger between the collar and his neck, unleashed a claw, and tore through the expensive material. He tossed it into the nearest rubbish bin and kept running, diving into any back alley he could to stay out of sight.

He couldn’t be caught. He couldn’t.

If he were caught, it’d be all over.

He might not even make it out alive, and if he did… he would wish he wouldn’t have. Not if he was sent back to him.

The shelter couldn’t be too much further, though. Just a few more streets, maybe. He just had to dive out of this alley and into the next. If he crossed the street fast enough, no one would have time to look at him. He could do this, he just had to keep running.

He leapt out of the alley, ready to sprint across the street–

The asphalt gave out under him, and the city, the whole world, fell away. Or maybe he was the one falling away? He couldn’t tell, everything was– everything was…

Soft…?

He fell into a cloud, this much he could tell. The roaring, thunderous rainclouds above turned into beige puffs of fluff, and the thunder turned into soft, delicate purrs. Everything turned into fuzzy puffs of white, cream, and beige. There were no buildings, no busy city streets, no humans… Just soft clouds and gentle purrs. Everything was so peaceful. So calm and homely…

And everything smelt just like…

***

“Aziraphale…?” Crowley asked groggily. He was gently pulled from his dream by the sound and scent of his angel so close, but how…?

Crowley’s eyes snapped open and his heart began to race when he realized Aziraphale was lying comfortably on top of him with his head resting on Crowley’s chest.

“Oh, hello, dear.” Aziraphale lifted his head and smiled at him. “I’m so glad you’re awake. You really were having quite a bad dream….” His hands went from being folded neatly over Crowley’s chest to pulling and wringing at each other. “You were making such pained noises, so I decided to… rest down here with you so that you wouldn’t feel alone.” The angel cat looked to the side sheepishly.

Crowley now noticed that the TV had been turned off, likely since the movie ended and his phone stopped streaming after that. How long had he been asleep? He supposed it made sense since he hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night, but it was unusual for him to fall asleep out in the open, and even more unusual with someone else in the room with him. But Aziraphale was nice to have around, and besides the fact that they hadn’t known each other for more than a few days, Crowley felt more comfortable with Aziraphale than he’d ever felt with... Well, anyone. Perhaps it wasn’t so strange that he fell asleep near Aziraphale after all.

Though he was a little embarrassed about being caught having a nightmare, he was so stunned that Aziraphale laid with him so that he wouldn’t feel alone. Crowley had to blink away the little bits of moisture accumulating in the corners of his eyes at the thought of the gesture. It wasn’t until Aziraphale interrupted him with a question that he finally snapped out of his thoughts.

“My dear, you looked as if you were in pain… What on earth were you dreaming about that made you so upset?”

Crowley’s heart sank at the question. How was he supposed to answer that? Of course, he could come up with something other than what he actually dreamt of, but with his angel giving him that sweet, concerned look with those big stormy eyes of his… he couldn’t bear to lie to him.

Seeming to see the distress on Crowley’s face, Aziraphale folded his ears back and lowered his head the tiniest bit. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to press. Of course, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…”

Seeing his angel trying to make himself look smaller stirred up something strange in Crowley’s gut. He certainly wasn’t going to lie to his angel, and he definitely wasn’t going to let him continue to look all small and unsure. Besides, Aziraphale was… something to Crowley (His angel? His mate?), and he deserved to know just how broken Crowley was. That way, if the angel cat decided he did not want to associate himself with damaged goods, at least it would all be out in the open.

“No, it’s okay, angel. I, uh, I think you should know. If you want to hear about it…”

At this, Aziraphale’s eyes lit up the smallest bit, and his ears popped back up to listen.

“Of course, my dear. I’ll listen to you.” The angel cat made himself comfortable by resting his chin on his hands, eyes wide and beautiful, waiting to hear Crowley’s story.

Steeling himself to talk about the event that he’d been trying to forget for over a year now, Crowley leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and took a deep breath.

***

“About a year ago, I was adopted by a man… He was handsome, charming, and also very rich. Before he officially adopted me, he would shower me with gifts. He'd give me anything from clothes, tech, food…” Crowley looked down at his own expensive clothing, guilty about still wearing them after everything that happened.

“He gave me all the things I never had at the shelter. I thought he was the one. I thought after all these decades, I'd finally found someone who really wanted me, someone to finally be a companion to.” Here, he takes another deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

“The night he adopted me and brought me home… It was almost like a switch was flipped. it was like he was a completely different person. His hands were all over me, and he tried to tear my clothes off… I had to claw my way out of there. I had to break the damn window to escape.” The dampness was back in the corners of his eyes returned. He squeezed them tighter, only for a pair of silent tears to run down the sides of his face. He did his best to ignore it because if he stopped now, he’d never be able to get the rest of the story out.

I was only able to get away after I struck him, but he managed to get a few hits on me, too… I ran back to the shelter in the rain that night, and Eve patched up my injuries as best she could. His lawyer called later the next day, and he agreed to nullify the adoption as long as we didn't go public about it…

And I've been at the shelter ever since.”

***

The living room of Jasmine cottage was silent.

Crowley refused to open his eyes. He wasn’t ready to see the disgust on Aziraphale’s face. He wasn’t ready to see the angel get up with the excuse that he had somewhere else to be and disappear from Crowley’s life forever. He wasn’t ready to open his eyes and see pity in the ones looking back at him.

“Oh, my dearest… My dear brave boy…”

There were suddenly very soft hands cradling his face, so Crowley didn’t have much of a choice but to see if what he felt was truly happening. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that his angel had leaned forward on his elbows to hold Crowly’s face in his hands. Aziraphale looked concerned and sad but also the tiniest bit… proud?

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, my dear, but I’m glad you’re safe now. I really am.”

Crowley, simultaneously relieved and stunned, lifted his hands to press against the ones holding his face. Aziraphale smiled softly then gently took Crowley’s hands in his and held them, resting their entwined hands on Crowly’s chest.

“I’m sorry to press, Crowley, but… you said this person was a human?” Aziraphale looked a little bit confused, but Crowley wasn’t sure what could have confused him.

“Well, yeah. Only humans can adopt cats. Of course, he was a human.”

This only seemed to confuse the angel cat more.

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” he nearly cried out. Crowley could feel a slight tremble in the angel cat’s hands. “Humans are supposed to protect their cats! That’s the whole point! How could a human ever think of hurting a cat in their care?” Aziraphale looked devastated now. He had held himself well enough to praise and comfort Crowley, but it seemed the more he thought about it, the more upset he was getting. “That’s just not right…”

“Angel,” Crowley began softly, knowing through his many years of dealing with humans that most humans could care less about the cats in their care. Humans saw them as things to own, not as people with fluffy ears and tails. Occasionally a decent human like Eve or Anathema came along, but they must be far and few between if Crowley’s experience said anything about it. “A lot of humans are just like that. I mean, humans were the ones who took your claws.”

Aziraphale’s whole body stiffened on top of Crowley’s and a thin layer of tears began to shine in the angel cat’s eyes.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Shitshitshitshitfuckingshit!

Crowley opened his mouth to apologize, trying and failing to come up with anything that could smooth over the angel’s metaphorical ruffled feathers.

Luckily the angel cat spoke up first before he could shove his foot further into his mouth.

“No!” He gripped Crowley’s hands tightly. “He shouldn’t have done that to you! It’s not right! You didn’t deserve that! Humans are supposed to take care of their cats! They’re supposed to protect them! You’re a good cat! You’re a wonderful cat that deserves to be protected and cared for, and I’m glad he’s not your human anymore because he doesn’t deserve you!” Aziraphale all but shouted the rest of it, voice only getting slightly louder with each sentence. By the end, he looked winded, as if it had taken everything out of him to get that out.

Crowley, too shocked to do anything but gape at the beautiful thing before him, just sat there while Aziraphale collected himself. When Aziraphale spoke again, it was much softer and calmer.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you, my dear, but thinking about someone trying to hurt you just got me all flustered…”

Crowley frankly was trying very hard to keep his body from getting overly excited about his angel losing his temper in order to defend Crowley. He could already begin to feel his face heat up (among other things).

“No worries, angel,” he paused when he noticed his own tail flailing back and forth behind Aziraphale, obviously not getting the memo that it was supposed to appear unaffected. “I don’t mind. You’re very pretty when you’re flustered.”

Flirty, yes, flirty was good! Calm, relaxed, and sassy would work here.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to have suddenly pinkening cheeks.

They were just a blushie pair of catboys.

At least most of the tension in the air was now replaced by some very soft and fuzzy feelings that were not at all befitting of a cool hip cat like Crowley… But Aziraphale smiled and rested his head back down against Crowley’s chest with his hands moving back under his cheek, so Crowley didn’t say anything to break the haze of fluff. Instead, he moved his newly freed hands to wrap gently around Aziraphale's back in a ghost of an embrace. Though he missed holding hands with him, the soft purrs emanating from the angel cat when he put his palms flat on Aziraphale's back more than made up for it.

“Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale said softly, finally breaking the silence of their… cuddle?

“Mm?”

“Do you really have to go back to the shelter? I know Tadfield doesn’t have much to offer in the way of excitement, but it’s not a bad place to live, I promise you.” Part of the angel’s voice sounded like he was pleading with Crowley, and it broke his heart that he couldn’t simply say that he would stay.

“I don’t know, angel, it’s not up to me.”

Here, Aziraphale turned his head so his chin was resting on his hands again, looking at Crowley. “What do you mean?”

“Anathema is just doing this foster agreement as a favor to one of the shelter teachers: Eve. I’m not actually sure if Anathema even wants a cat in the first place, let alone a cat like me.”

Aziraphale, looking disheartened if his lowering tail and ears folding to the side were any indication, looked away. He snuggled a little closer to Crowley.

“Oh…”

“I’ve been trying to be a good cat for her,” Crowley admitted. “But after what happened to me… I’ve just been so broken, angel. And no one wants broken goods.” He hadn’t intended on spilling these thoughts out, but he couldn’t just say nothing to Aziraphale’s disheartened face.

“I don’t think you’re broken, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with firm conviction. “And even if you are, the cracks in your frame are by far the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

Crowley really wished his angel would stop making him want to cry today. So, of course, he said something stupid to divert those feelings.

“So you’re saying you want to see my crack?” He cracked a mischievous smirk. “My, my, angel, how forward of you.”

The already pinkish hue the angel had was now taking on a deeper red colour.

“Crowley, you fiend!” He huffed. “There is no need to be so crass. I was just trying to be sweet and romantic!

Romantic?!?!?!

Crowley immediately sat up enough so that he could rest most of his weight on his elbows without knocking Aziraphale off of him. “Is that something that you want?” He asked way too quickly. “Romance, I mean?”

Aziraphale’s blush didn’t look like it was going down any time soon.

“Well–” He, for once, was the one to fumble his words. “I… I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it… if you were offering it, anyway. I wouldn’t want to presume…”

“Oh, I’m offering all right!” Crowley wouldn’t let Aziraphale back out of this now that he’d spoken first. “Presume away, angel! I’ll romance you so hard, you’re going to think I’m the cat’s meow.”

A soft, plush hand was gently slapped down over his face.

“No, I’ve changed my mind. Keep your romance to yourself. That was truly terrible.” Despite the hand on his face, Crowley could tell that Aziraphale was teasing him. He gently peeled the angel’s hand off his face and over-dramatically pleaded with him.

“Aw, come on, angel, gimmie another chance!” he pouted out his lip, but it was no match for the king of pouting himself. Aziraphale other hand plopped down over Crowley’s face right where the other had been.

“Not a cat’s chance in hell, my dear.”

Oh, so he can make the cat puns, but not me? Right then. Time to break out the big guns.

Crowley once again took Aziraphale’s hand from his face, but this time he slid his hand down so that the angel cat was now holding Crowley’s cheek again. Raising a single salacious eyebrow and smirking once again at his angel, Crowley turned his face into the angel cat’s palm and pressed a delicate kiss to it. When he turned back to Aziraphale, grinning like the cat who got the cream, he saw that the angel cat was now looking more like a tomato than a cat.

“You just don’t play fair, do you, my dear?” Aziraphale said, flustered but undoubtedly happy.

“Nah,” Crowley shook his head. “Proper demon I am, angel. Maybe my cat’s chance in hell isn’t so bad after all?”

“Hm,” Aziraphale hummed primly, giving Crowley an appraising look now that his face was finally going back to its usual happy pink. “Yes, well. There might be hope for you yet, my dear.”

With this, Aziraphale tucked his hands between Crowley and the couch cushions and settled his head back down onto Crowley’s chest (after, of course, making sure to rub his whiskers against Crowley a little bit to spread his sent there. Fucking tease).

Crowley soon after wrapped his arms back around his angel and rubbed gentle circles on his back until Aziraphale’s sleepy purr came back to coerce Crowley to rest with him. They both settled comfortably into their catnap as Crowley’s final sleepy thoughts rang through his head in Aziraphale’s voice. He hoped the voice was right.

There may be hope for you yet, my dear.

OMG I just saw the ask about the catboys. I have nothing to add. I love your ineffable catboys. 🖤♥️🖤 🤍💙🤍

#this was so damn hard to write #But I'm done!#Yeet take it #fanfic be upon ye #catboy omens #ineffable catboys #hg-aneh #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanart #good omens art #Catboy Crowley #catboy au #catboy Aziraphale #Catboy Aziraphale #meow #knight writes #nik-knight

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allegra-j-joann · 9 months ago

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The Library of Babel

“The Library,” my father told me that time many years ago, though day and year are both derivatives of time and thus are hardly applicable to the situation here and are only used for the reader’s ease of understanding “is vastly vast and spirallingly endless through all of existence, just rooms upon rooms, and librarians in all.” I watched him as he sat with the book open on his lap, his frail hands hiding the scrawled letters from where I stood, he coveted those letters as though they were written in gold. I tore my eyes from the paper and back to my father, who was so pale and fragile now I might have mistaken him for paper, were he not speaking aloud “what book do you suppose you’ll read?”

“What do you mean ‘what book’?” I simply grow irritated when he asks such questions of me “I’ll read as many as I can possibly fit into my life” I raise my arms to the vast room around me and he shakes his head.

“That is why I ask which one, by the time you have finished your first then your time will be over, you may not age now, but you gain a year for every page you will turn” he sighed, turning to the next page of his own book, there were only a few left now.

“Then I shall go and find the best book in the library, and I shall read that,” I left the chamber, I wouldn’t find my book there anyway, I was sure it was somewhere else. Buried amongst the many other identical covers, perhaps already being read by another librarian in some far off hexagon.

No room that I entered over the next decade, though once again decade, being a time word, has no real application, seemed to pull at me the way I imagined it must. My feet carried me endlessly from chamber to chamber, my fingers brushing across spines of silk and leather as breeze hushed its way through the shaft in the center, making me imagine occasionally that it came from somewhere beyond the chambers that ought, really, to just be stuffy, still and musty. When I came across them sitting in their corners, I would speak to the other librarians, all with their dull clothing and lined faces but glowing eyes, they all spoke of the same things in the same tones as my father had so long ago; Golden ink in spiralling handwriting, written by who I wondered, leading them word by word through odd narratives that sometimes meant nothing at all, heavy pages that sometimes were difficult to turn yielding secrets that none would share with me.

Once or twice, like dreaming, I would feel a tug and open a book on the nearest shelf, I later found the name of this tug on one of the pages, Curiosity, But I never was able to read more than a page before finding myself confused and agitated. This was foolish, I could always assure myself, surely if it meant for me to read it the letters would not swim before my eyes the way they did.

The philosophy had always seemed sound to me as I walked ever onwards, If I’m meant to read through the whole book then it will make sense. There was only one librarian I met who ever made me think otherwise, he sat in hexagon in circuit 15-94, the creases in his stony face seemed to crack and split as he lifted his head to look at me. There is little I had seen in the library that could have compared to this librarian, his eyes no longer glowed like the others, his hands wavered over the page of his book “ah, young one,” he spoke hardly above a whisper but, oh how it filled the room “you haven’t chosen a book yet?”

“No, I haven’t, I haven’t found any that draws me in” I admit, looking around at all the identical shelves and spines, where was the last hexagon I’d felt a tug in, it must be so far from here.

The man simply shook his head “then you may well have walked past it, you won’t know your book until you read it, you just have to pick one” he sighed “though you may be searching the wrong level too, perhaps you want the round room” seeing the confusion on my face he continued, ushering me to sit down “it has been a whisper amongst the librarians, they’ve seen the words in their books and told it to passersby, a hexagon that is not, it is just one continuous wall with only a single shelf with a single book, whose spine goes all the way around”

“What does that mean, how do I find such a room?” I knelt in front of him, He merely shook his head and looked back down at the book resting open on his lap, its ink didn’t look dull to me, though, neither did it didn’t shine the way I imagined.

“only a whisper, Young one, any librarian with a bit of sense\ knows no such room can exist, a room with only one wall, could you believe such a thing? Nay, it can’t exist” his breath came hollow as he laughed. He tried turning the page again, but his hands shook so that he couldn’t lift the corner “do help me won’t you, young one?” I reached carefully to flip the thick, yellowed paper over.

I sat in quiet contemplation of his words as he read on, some part of me, deep in the core of my brain, agreed with him. How would such a room fit into the library, where every hexagon locked together. With only one wall, where would the door be? And what of the round book. I sat imagining it, were it’s spine a ring top to bottom, there’d be no way to turn the page, inwards or outwards, it would simply be too inflexible, but were it’s spine a ring, side to side, there would be no first page to start at, and no last page to end it, I salivate at the thought of all the knowledge that could be in such a book, with such impossibly infinite-seeming pages, and perhaps if I never reached the end of the book, I could never run out of time, though I might grow very bored of that with no time to pass or kill.

I am hardly through these thoughts of mine when the librarian in front of me reaches the very last letter of the four hundred and tenth page of his book, letting it rest on his lap as he leaned back, the air between us became ever still and I knew that I was alone. In the feeble and inadequate light cast by the globes that grew from the wall the man looked unnervingly like my father, though I was a good many leagues from the hexagon where he had settled to read, I wondered if another librarian had come across him before he finished the last few pages of his book. Gently as I can, I take the man and push his body into the shaft at the center, his book clutched to my chest to be put back on the shelf. I pause. I think I should simply pick a book, rather than search for the impossible room. Quietly I take my seat and open to a random page of the book the man left behind, finding, halfway down, seven simple words “I Live, I die, I am gone”.

#short story #fiction #short stories #writer stuff #creative writing #writing #drabbles #writerscommunity

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places. “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

4K notes · View notes

crybabyalexxx · 3 years ago

Text

Nova

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have a secret arrangement. Inspired by Billie Eilish’s ‘Billie Bossa Nova’

Warnings: NSFW 18+, submissive Bucky, dominant reader, BDSM involved

A/N: This was very fun to write as always. It is my first time writing anything for Bucky but this song just reminds me so much of him and I couldn’t help myself. Hope everyone enjoys it! I always get so nervous before posting a story.

Word Count: 2k

Here you were at another one of Tony’s parties. It’s not like you weren’t having any fun, it’s just that you’d rather be somewhere else. With someone else. It was rare when everyone got a moment for themselves so you all enjoyed it when everyone was together. Made you feel like a real family. But tonight, you only wanted to be with one person.

“Hey stranger, you’re quiet tonight. Everything alright?’ Natasha makes her way up to you, drink in hand. She always made sure you were treated well and felt comfortable. You were so thankful for her.

“Yeah, just a little tired.” Across the room from you was Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier. You two came face to face a few times on missions, before and after you joined the team. He hates to admit it but you were a tough one to fight. You love to remind him how easily you can kick his ass. You loved it when you got him down on his knees.

Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of you all night. From the moment you walked into the room with that silk green dress. It was causal, yet he adored you. He was quieter than usual, but everyone blew it off as ‘Bucky being Bucky’, and he didn’t mind. He just needed you. Bucky knew you thought the same thing too, it was the way you were looking at him. Like you wanted him on his knees. He wanted to obey.

Nobody knew but you and Bucky would regularly meet. When everyone was asleep, you and the Winter Soldier would sneak off and hide behind closed doors. It all started one night after training, the way he was breathing against you. Your legs wrapped around him tightly. Then it happened again after a mission, him knocking on your door and you pulling him in. It’s hard to stop it once it starts. After a while, Bucky told you about him wanting to be submissive. It threw you off at first, you figured after being mind washed for all those years that he would want to be in control for once.

“Sometimes everything becomes too much and I just want someone to take a little control every once in a while.” Bucky lied with you on one of the many hotel beds you’ve been in together.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, James. I understand, I’ll do it. I was always good at getting you on your knees for me.”

“I think I’m gonna go ahead and get to bed. Behave for me will ya?” Natasha smirks and gives you a wink.

“You know me y/n, I like to have a little fun before bed.” You wink back at her and head out to the elevator, with a Bucky Barnes hot on your heels. You didn’t even have to look at him to make him come to you. It won’t be the only time tonight either.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Doll.” It had been a while since the two of you had been in the same room together. So when you both heard you had the weekend off, you couldn’t let that opportunity pass. He’d been worked up and you didn’t want to wait any longer. You loved it when he came without a warning, sometimes waiting can get so boring. You wiped the cum off your hands with your tongue. “Don’t apologize, James, I like how worked up you get.” Bucky chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “Only you do it how I like.”

You and Bucky don’t say anything on the way up to your room. You were lucky enough to have your rooms across from each other, nobody would know that he was secretly with you. It was like a routine, a dance between the two of you. Bucky undressed and waited for your command. You walk around him in circles, like he was prey. He wanted you to devour him already.

“On the bed.” He grew an erection immediately. Just by your three simple words. He did as he was told like a good soldier. He even held his hands above his head without having to be told. You straddle his waist as you tie him up. Bucky shuts his eyes tight, he knows he won’t last long with the way you look, fully dressed and slightly grazing him where he needed you most.

You smirk and grind your hips roughly, causing Bucky to throw his head back hard into the pillow. It was as if somebody knocked the wind out of him. His eyes shot open and he swore there was nothing more beautiful than the sight above him. You smiling down at him, your hair coming down loosely. He wasn’t going to last long. You could feel him squirming slightly underneath you. “Y/n, please.”

“Name?”

“Nova.” When you and Bucky weren’t back at the compound, you were in different hotels. Using different names at hotel check-ins. It was routine. Being together for the night, just to feel something. You wanted to be in control and Bucky was more than happy to be controlled by you. You hadn’t realized how much you enjoyed it, having him this way. He could easily take control if he wanted to. But you had him at your mercy, and you were an addict for him.

You were never the sentimental type, but there was something about the way he looked right now for you tonight. Tied up and an absolute mess. You wanted to keep him like this forever. “You make me wanna take a picture of you, James.” You were completely naked for him now. His erection trapped in between your folds, you raked your nails up and down his arms and chest. You made sure to take your time with his metal arm. Made sure he knew that all of him deserved to feel good tonight. “All tied up and wrecked because of me.” Bucky rolled his hips forward to get some sort of friction from you. You held his hips down and tsked. “Be a good soldier now Barnes.” You could make a movie with him that you both would have to hide.

Bucky grunted and threw his head back in frustration. “The things you do to me, Doll.”

You kiss your way up to his neck, “Don’t get sentimental on me James.”

You’d been ignoring bucky all day. It was one of those days where everyone just kind of kept to themselves. You read a few books and paid no mind to Bucky when he walked in the room. You didn’t even look at him when you two were alone in the library. You could feel his eyes on you every second. You could feel how squirmy he was because of it. Even when he caught up with you on the elevator, you simply pulled out your phone and acted like it was the most interesting thing to you. It pained Bucky to not be able to reach out to you. It was torture not having you all over him, your hands pulling at his hair, grabbing his waist, and dragging him to your room. He almost went back to his room, but before he reached the doorknob he looked back at you one last time. He was surprised to see you staring back at him, then you entered your room without closing the door behind you. He took that as an invitation.

Once he closes the door behind him he grabs you and pins you against the door. “Look at me when we’re alone, please.” You knew it wouldn’t take much to get him going. You knew it was torture though. He kissed you like you could one day slip away. “I know, I know.”

You were glad that these walls were soundproof. The noises he was pulling out of you, the sounds he made in your ear. It was like a song you never got tired of hearing. The way he stretched you out, yet fit inside you so perfectly. This was all you needed. He was all you needed. If anybody saw you two this way, you don’t know what they would think. The Winter Soldier begging to come. Moaning out your name. You squeeze around him at the thought. “Fuck! If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last much longer.” You lean in closer to him and squeeze around him once more. “Promise?”

Bucky couldn’t get enough of you, he left hickeys anywhere his mouth could reach. “You leave a strong impression don’t you Barnes?” It might be more of an obsession.

“Anyone see you?” He layed you down softly on the bed.

“No, you?” There was a slight knot in your stomach. You didn’t understand it.

“No.” Bucky continued his assault on your breast.

They won’t see me in your arms, you thought.

You’re not sentimental but there’s something about the way he looks tonight. Desperate, aching, and all yours. You could feel bucky tense up beneath you so you decided to drag this out a little longer. You rocked your hips back and forth slowly. Taking his cock in and out of you torturously slow. “Please Doll.” You’ll never get tired of hearing him beg.

“Who do you belong to?” You started to slam into him and Bucky saw stars.

“I won’t repeat myself, James.” You squeezed his throat gently.

“You! I belong to you y/n! Fuck.” You were going to be the death of him.

“Good Soldier.”

Sometimes you thought about being with Bucky. What it would be like to not have to sneak around and just be with each other. You wondered if Bucky thought the same. You wanted everyone to know the people you two became when you’re alone together. Even make them jealous for a change.

‘What are you thinking about?” You layed in Bucky’s arms, not having the energy to go back to your room yet. If you were being honest with yourself, you enjoyed the feeling of being in Bucky’s arms. The coolness of his metal arm with the warmth of his body. You stayed silent for a while. Debating whether or not to tell him the truth.

“That I’m the only one who does it how you like.”

You climb off of him and ride his thigh instead. Bucky whimpers and stares at you. He could feel how wet you are. You lean down and leave hickeys on his hips roughly. Once you are satisfied you climb completely off him and leave him hard and bare. He takes in a deep breath and pulls against his restraints. It was torture, but you both loved it. Bucky shuts his eyes again. ‘Please.” It won’t take much to get him going. “I know, I know.”

You walk around to the foot of the bed, fully naked. You saw your masterpiece. He was a work of art to you. The way his chest rose, the redness in his cheeks. The trail of your lips splattered all across his body. You were obsessed.

Bucky can hear your soft footsteps. He doesn’t dare look, he knows he won’t last long if he does.

“Look at me a little more James.” It took everything in him not to come the moment he saw you. He could see the wetness dripping from your cunt. The small hickeys covering your body, the ones he left. You were worth waiting for. He was obsessed.

His heavy breathing could have you on the floor. You watched him look your body up and down like it was a piece of art. You didn’t have to say anything, Bucky knew what you wanted. He wanted it too.

“I’m yours.”

You weren’t sentimental, but tonight there was something about him.

“I’m yours.”

#alex writes #alexxx writes #bucky barnes #sub bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #the winter solider smut #the winter solider imagine #the winter solider x reader #dom reader

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chloegong · 3 years ago

Text

that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

#these violent delights #romajuliette #benediktmarshall #how am i out here using my own book tags this feels weird FKJDHSDKJFH #should i tag my own name too #chloe gong #now i've gone and done it #bookblr #yabooks

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lebenspurpur · 3 years ago

Note

What about how would slashers propose their s/o? :3

How would the slashers propose:

Michael Myers

Michael wouldn't.

As funny as that sounds, I'm pretty sure Michael doesn't understand marriage and its concept at all.

After all.. who'd marry you? A deranged serial killer and his spouse.. pretty difficult to find a priest for that kind of couple.

If anything, he'd propose to show that he cares. Michael isn't the best at showing emotions and a proposal would be his personal way of showing that he does adore you.

It would probably be nothing big though. He'd just hand you a stolen ring and then march off, leaving you alone with your confusion.

Are you ever getting married? Probably not but he'll wear a ring similar to yours if you'd like.

Vincent Sinclair

Oh, Vincent will try his hardest to be as romantic as he can be.

Dozen of candles, hundreds of roses, and he'll actually wear an old suit he found in Bo's wardrobe!

His brothers will be out of town, driven out by your big lover.

He'll make dinner for you. It might taste a little interesting, considering his below-average cooking skills, but hey the idea alone is so adorable.

After dinner, he'll sink down on one knee and you just freeze.

He's super nervous too! What if you don't want to marry him? What if he's too fast and you're not ready for that commitment yet?

The ring will be from a victim but he polished and perfected it himself. He'll design it like his knives, dragons wrapping around the gemstone in the middle.

As soon as that "yes" leaves your lips, he inflates, probably ready to pass out.

Bo Sinclair

Bo.. doesn't necessarily want to marry.

But he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, that's for sure.

You're something he doesn't deserve and yet you're here, with him.

Bo won't be as romantic as his twin, that's not really his strategy.

He'll most likely blurt out his proposal while he's watching TV and make it seem like the most normal thing ever, even though he's frightened on the inside.

If you ask him what he said, he'll repeat it real quietly and you swear he's turning red.

Say yes and Bo will actually flash a big grin, a real one, not his usual smirk, finally pulling you closer to seal his lips with yours.

He can't believe someone would marry him but you wanted to, and he'd always deem that a miracle.

Lester Sinclair

Oh god, Lester will be so nervous.

He has everything: the ring, a nice suit, a romantic dinner but what if he fucks it up?

He even wrote a note containing a few words of his "speech" so he won't forget it.

So it's after dinner and he kneels down, nearly tripping on his open shoelace, and.. uh fuck what'd he want to say???

He can't find his note! Lester is now panicking.

Your reassuring smile grounds him again and he somehow manages to finish his proposal without fainting. How? Lester doesn't know, he has no recollection of what happened.

The ring will be from a victim but he got Vincent to make it prettier. He feels really bad about it as well, please tell him that that's okay!

Baby Firefly

Oh, Marriage? A big, pretty white dress? Sign her the fuck up.

Okay, being with you for the rest of her life is really nice as well.

She's probably talking to Mama when the subject first emerges and she just freezes in excitement.

She's soon skipping down the stairs, calling out your name.

"Y/N LET'S GET MARRIED!"

You don't even have a choice, she will marry you whether you like it or not.

I doubt that she'll even ask you the question, it'll just be a determined "We're getting married." and she's gone again, probably planning for the wedding.

A ring will be there though. She probably stole it but oh well.

Otis Driftwood

Marriage? *Insert him scoffing.*

Yeah no, he's too edgy for that.

However, he is down to invent his own kind of marriage for you.

But you're not getting a ring, oh no.

Otis is showing up with a collar. And it has his name on it.

After he's given it to you, he'll just hold a 15-minute speech about how you belong to him and how this collar will show everyone.

If you say yes afterward he'll be confused. This wasn't a question.

Billy Loomis

Oh Billy has it all planned out... and it can go both ways.

It's either a super romantic, high-school sweetheart-like proposal with flowers, a cute ring, balloons, and all that boring stuff or...

He dresses up as Michael Myers and jumps out at you, scaring you to death, just to hold a ring and propose to you.

I can see him totally scaring the shit out of you the whole evening just to make your proposal a special one.

Stu also helps him which makes you question which of the two you're really marrying.

Stu Macher

Stu will propose in his own way, to be frank, everything he does is done in his own way.

He'll be quite sweet actually, taking you out on a Ferris wheel to ask the question.

He's serious about the whole thing but he doesn't quite show it.

He makes it seem as if this whole thing does nothing to him so you can't see how nervous he is.

After you say yes he'll still act cool but the shake in his voice gives him away.

If you cry, he'll tease you for years so be careful.

Brahms Heelshire

The only idea Brahms has of proposal and marriage is from the books he's read. And those are either porn magazines or some old romance novels from way before our time.

He'll wear a suit. You don't even know where he got it from, it's astonishingly old.

There's no dinner or anything, Brahms can't cook and after all, that's your job.

He'll give you flowers though!

And his grandmother's proposal ring that he found somewhere in the mansion. He just can't buy his own so he has to improvise.

If you say yes he'll smile excitedly and jump into your arms. He's not getting off too, you have to carry him now.

Sometimes he forgets how tall he is.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas will marry you pretty early into the relationship.

After all, his family is very religious and you know what they say, no sex before marriage kids. I doubt that Thomas will obey that rule but let's pretend-

Luda will help him with everything he needs, she'll even get Hoyt and Monty to leave the house with her for a night so you two have some privacy!

Thomas will be very nervous and you very confused. Thomas never stopped working unless it was something important.

You'll eat and have a nice time, you can finally spend some time with your lover and this time, not in the basement. He even takes his mask off, just for you.

After dinner he'll clear his throat and actually say the whole proposal out loud. This is important and Thomas doesn't want to ruin this just because he doesn't want to talk.

He could never ruin anything but he's insecure like that.

If you say yes he's going to grin brightly and just pick you up, spinning you around until he actually kisses you, once again feeling so grateful for you in his life.

Josef

Marriage isn't that important to him so he takes a while to even think about that idea.

Of course, a life filled with you is absolutely amazing in his opinion but he trusts that you won't leave him, with or without a promise binding you to him.

After a bit of thinking, he decides to do it just for the gesture.

He'll buy a ring that he thinks fits and then plan a nice dinner with a few candles, red wine, expensive food, all that shit.

Josef is an amazing cook so that food will be to die for.

After eating, he'll intertwine your hands with his and look into your eyes, quietly bringing up the whole idea of marriage.

If you seem interested and I mean positively interested, he'll pull out the ring, surprising you like always.

Say yes and Josef will get quite emotional, never did he think someone would actually marry him.

He might cry but one word about that and you'll get the silent treatment.

you'll get a gif, as a treat

Amanda Young

Marriage? Uh, not for her.

Amanda hates the whole idea of marriage, stupid love-sick couples marrying just to break up and divorce a year later, leaving children to grow up in an environment that's shaped by isolation and abandonment.

However, she's not against a ring to show that she's never going to leave you.

Amanda will make one for you, yes you heard me, make.

It's so important to her, anyone else but her would fail her.

It takes a while but seeing your happy tears after she gave and explained it to you makes everything worth it.

She'll often admire it, sitting so perfect on your finger.

You're hers and hers alone.

You can't see it but she's smiling.

#slashers headcannons #slashers x reader #michael myers x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #baby firefly x reader #otis driftwood x reader

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