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cleo-fox · 7 months

Text

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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sehunniepotwrites · 19 days

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with a little pixie dust | mk.l

It’s just a little faith and trust, and with a little pixie dust, your wildest dreams will be yours.

SYNOPSIS. There are so many ways your friend group could have chosen to celebrate your graduation from university but they chose the one way that fit their childlike antics most of all–going to Disneyland. With all the screams of joy and laughter filing the atmosphere, you see why people call it The Happiest Place on Earth. It’s where magic comes alive, hearts soar to the skies, and where dreams come true. With your dream job already lined up for you once you get back from this vacation, you wonder if your last and wildest fantasy–the one that carries Mark Lee endearingly close to your heart–will take flight. (But don’t worry; your best friends, with a little help of pixie dust, are determined to make it come alive by the end of night.)

GENRE. Fluff, Comedy, Best friends-to-lovers!AU, Theme Park!AU, Disneyland!AU, meddling/matchmaking friend group, all the romantic tropes that come with a theme park setting

WORD COUNT. 11.9k

WARNINGS. a lot of Disney references (movies, songs, parks, etc.), profanity, food/drink consumption, theme park rides, nothing too crazy tbh

PARK ANNOUNCEMENTS. I understand that not everyone has been to Disneyland. Because I want to paint the perfect picture in your head as you read through the fic, each scene will be titled with the land/area they are in and a picture of the land/area will be hyperlinked with a visual. It's unnecessary to click them but it would be a lil helpful! <3 DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

Your graduation commencement came and went. The spectacle flew by so slowly but so quickly at the same time. You can’t exactly describe how you’re feeling now that you’ve graduated–relief is mixed in with panic, happiness mixed with dread. It’s a jumble of emotions you can’t quite comprehend but alas, that is the wonder of adulthood.

The happiest takeaway from your college experience is not the expensive degree you earned but the special friends you made. Karina was the first friend you made in college because she was your roommate. She introduced you to her high school friend, Jeno, who then dragged you two to the ginormous welcome event. It was there you met Donghyuck and last but definitely not least, Mark Lee.

The other two boys were attractive, yes, but there was something about Mark that drew you to him. Donghyuck talked as much as him, sure, and Jeno’s attractiveness was on another level than Mark’s but that boy immediately caught your attention. Maybe it was the way he spoke and never completed a thought or the way he’d laugh so unabashedly, losing all control of his body that got to you. He was so incredibly endearing that your heart just claimed him. Years later, when the friendship is stronger than ever, that beating muscle in your chest refuses to let Mark go.

One morning the summer after graduation, you wake up in a hotel room with an alarm blaring at 6:00am. You roll over and groan, blindly reaching to stop the device. Karina is rustling inside the sheets next to you, hoping the noise will go away. Jeno and Donghyuck are on the other bed snoring up a storm. Mark, on the other hand, rolls uncomfortably on the pull-out couch.

On normal days, the alarm set for six in the morning would be a sin but today is not a regular day. It is the day your group saved up for.

The five of you, with your similar interests in movies and theme parks, wanted to go to Disneyland together for years. After graduation, you finally had the money and freedom for it.

Your hypothetical plan finally made it out of the group chat—that is your driving force to get up. While doing so, you hit Karina’s side and she grumbles in response. The two of you agreed you’d wake up earlier since it would take you longer to get ready. The guys, however, could sleep in.

As you quietly pass by the couch, Mark asks, “Is it time to get up already?” He must’ve heard the shuffling. There's darkness under his eyes. You can tell he didn’t sleep well last night. On top of his eyes struggling to open up, his voice sounds incredibly hoarse and filled with fatigue.

“No,” you answer, patting his messy head of brown hair. His body reacts positively to your touch, eyes closed and neck stretching to meet your touch. He releases a relaxed sigh as your fingers card through his thick strands.

Lowering yourself to his level, you continue to play with his hair. “Sleep well last night?”

“Nah, not really, like dude, this shit really isn’t comfortable,” he complains with a deep exhale, “but I volunteered to take the couch so…”

“Move to mine,” you tell him, gesturing to the unmade bed. You hear the water running and figure that Karina jumped into the shower to help wake herself up. “Try to get a little more sleep, I’ll wake you up in a bit.”

Too tired to fight back, Mark languidly moves towards the bed. Once close enough, his body drops onto the mattress and he wiggles his way under the covers. You watch him until his breathing evens out. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep; after all, he did most of the driving on your road trip down to Southern California. Satisfied, you move to start your morning hotel routine.

The fresh smell of coffee hits you as you do your skin care, apply your makeup, and brush your teeth. Karina’s done in the bathroom shortly after and you claim it to change into your outfit of the day. When the final touches of your look are finished, forty minutes have passed and it’s time to wake up the rest.

You wake Jeno first because he’s the easiest and whisper that there’s fresh coffee waiting for him. Donghyuck throws a bit of a fit when you shake him awake, stuffing his face in his pillow. He gets up after a few threats from Karina, whining over how mean she is to him.

Part of you wants to let Mark rest for a little bit longer, especially after knowing how exhausted he is. There’s the option of letting the other three go first while you wait for Mark to wake up naturally. The other half of you, however, thinks about two things: how much money you all spent getting these tickets and how you promised each other to be at Disneyland from open to close to make your splurge worth it. Being Mark’s best friend, you know how disappointed the guy would be if you stayed behind with him. So with no choice left, you wake him up.

You do so gently, your hand immediately going back to his unruly hair. You comb back his bangs and hold them in place. “Mark, it’s your turn now, everyone else is almost ready.”

As soon as he hears your voice, he stirs. Mark blinks the sleep away, and suddenly, you are the first thing he sees. With you sitting on the bed next to him and your hand still in his hair, Mark thinks he’s still dreaming. “Hmmm?”

“It’s your turn, Spidey,” you say, taking a sip of coffee. “We’re all ready.”

He buries his head in your lap for just a second, wanting to keep this little moment with him a little longer.

“Okay,” he finally says a minute later, before slipping out of bed.

Karina claims her rightful place next to you on your shared bed, still warm from Mark’s little nap. She shoots you a look and you ignore her knowing stare. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she challenges you, perfectly drawn eyebrows raised in question.

“That,” you gesture to her face.

“Oh, you mean the look I’m giving you when you share a little cute moment with your best friend who is most definitely more than a best friend, fine, I won’t do that,” Karina pretends to give up, her hands raised in surrender.

You shush her at once, looking over to the boys that are currently fighting over the sink. Mark’s already dressed in some black cargo pants and an oversized Spider-Man shirt. He’s in the midst of styling his hair, struggling with one strand that will not stay in place. You hear his frustrated huffs and puffs while Jeno and Haechan chuckle at his antics.

“Does my baby need help?” Donghyuck teases, reaching for Mark’s hair.

“Yo, dude, no, stop! You’re gonna mess it up!” Mark shouts, backing away from him. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“But you can’t do it on your own, my sweet baby, I’ll help you,” Donghyuck continues with the bit.

You remove yourself from Karina’s conversation and break the two idiots up.

“C’mere,” you gesture towards Mark.

He instantly comes to you, dipping his head down to your level as you lean against a piece of furniture. Your fingertips curl that one strand just the way he likes it, framing his forehead, and smile when it’s all finished. So focused on his hair, you almost don’t notice how close his face is to yours. Your breath hitches and you lean back to create more distance.

Removing your hand from his hair, you smooth the non-existent wrinkles on his baggy tee.“There you go, not hard at all.”

“Right,” he murmurs back, body frozen in place but his large, pretty eyes still aimed at you.

You clear your throat. “I, um, need to–”

“Oh yeah no, sorry,” he stumbles over his words, moving so you can get through. You shuffle past him, pretending to do a last minute check of your crossbody bag. His stare lingers on you as you fuss over your belongings and put on your Mickey ears.

You try to shake away your thoughts but Karina won’t let you. She slides up to you with a playful smile. “Not even eight in the morning and you’ve already had two little moments. When’s number three happening?”

“In your wildest dreams,” you snap back with a hiss, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Wanting to avoid the conversation from moving further, you open the door. “Let’s move, slowpokes, we gotta go!”

“Or yours,” Karina takes the last word as she exits the room.

You can’t argue with your roommate because she’s right. You've been wanting to be with Mark and calling him yours since your first year. Yes, there were times in the past when it seemed like he wanted the same–moments just like the two you just shared–but nothing was explicitly said or done. Feelings were left unsaid. They lingered in the air until the romantic vibe fizzled out and the moment ended. To love and be loved by Mark Lee is your wildest dream. It’s the one you’re sure will never come true. However, there’s a sort of magic in the air in Disneyland–a magic that will make even the impossible possible. You wonder if that bit of magic will apply to you, too.

✨ TOMORROWLAND

7:45am arrives and your friends are following you like little ducklings following their mother. Without you, they would be lost causes.

It’s not your first time in the parks so naturally, you are the one who takes charge. You have all the tickets on your phone, scanning them one by one at the main entrance gate as your friends go through the turnstiles. They wait patiently until you are the last one through the gate.

Karina holds your hand, giggling as you stroll through Main Street, happily taking in the sights and sounds of Disneyland. Mark, Jeno, and Donghyuck are behind you, phones out to capture anything and everything in sight. You hear them excitedly discussing the map, mentioning things that they want to do, and you mentally take note of them all.

At exactly 8am, the ropes held by the cast members drop, signaling the official opening of the park. You quickly lead your friends towards the right of the famous castle and fight your way into Tomorrowland for Space Mountain. As one of the most popular attractions, it’s not so bad in the mornings when you’re one of the firsts in line. Jeno mentioned this ride in the past and you are determined to get him on it.

The crowd is packed like sardines and Karina links her arm through yours as people shove their way through. Amidst the craziness, someone grabs hold of your free hand from behind. From the way his hand fits in yours, you can tell exactly who it is. Jeno’s hand is much larger than this one and it’s a lot rougher than Donghyuck.

You turn your head to see Mark who asks you a question with a simple look. He knows you’re not too fond of crowds and is using this silent exchange as a check-up. You appreciate the gesture, much like how you appreciate every other way Mark looks out for you, and reassure him with a squeeze of his hand. You’ve frequented the park many times over the years so despite the mass of people, you know the theme park like the back of your hand. Mark returns the action and brushes his thumb against your knuckles. He doesn’t let go as the crowd dissipates into the ride queue and you don’t mind that at all.

As much as you love this dark roller coaster, you partially dread going on the ride, or any ride for that matter. The uneven number in your group guarantees that one person will be a single rider throughout the day and you are certain that will be you. Jeno and Karina have been dating for a while now, so it makes sense that they ride together. Even with Mark’s hand still in yours, you’re certain he’ll sit with Donghyuck. When it comes to Mark, Donghyuck loves to cling to his best friend, no matter how annoyed the older one gets. It’s their thing and has been since childhood so who are you to get in the way of that?

The wait goes by quickly, especially with the entertaining debates your friend group comes up with while queued up. It takes your group a mere thirty minutes to get to the front of the line. Once assigned your rows, you wiggle your hand out of Mark’s grip and silently move toward the last gate to make room for Donghyuck.

“Wait, where are you going?” Mark masks his hurt with a confused tone.

“To the back,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” his tone drops and you can barely hear him through the echoing sounds of the ride. “I thought–”

“Huh?” you shout from the back row.

Seeing you in the last row, Donghyuck pauses for a second as if contemplating on where to go. “Wait. Why are you here?”

“What do you mean? Are you saying I can’t be here?”

“No. You’re supposed to be–” Your mischievous friend is cut off by the gates opening and the employees instructing you to enter and lower your lap bars. You do what they say and Donghyuck sighs before moving to sit with Mark.

You notice the frustrated look on Donghyuck’s face and an exasperated one on Mark’s but it’s too loud in the room to hear whatever serious thing they’re discussing. You try to lean in closer to catch a glimpse of their conversation but by the time the safety checks are done, you’re launched into darkness at a high speed with the ride soundtrack and Mark’s screams of terror filling your ears.

The ride ends quickly and you all rush to find your photo. Everyone in your vehicle looks like they enjoyed the ride minus Mark, who hid his handsome face in Donghyuck’s arm. The green-eyed monster makes a short appearance in your mind and you wonder how it would’ve been if you stayed with Mark. Would he cling onto you like that too, with his arm looped through yours and his face buried in your neck?

“Why didn’t you tell me this was a roller coaster?” Mark whines as you take a picture of the screen. You immediately send it to your group chat and Giselle, the one person missing on this trip, reacts to it right away.

“Because I knew you’d try to get out of it, you scaredy cat.”

“Rude,” he scoffs, clinging onto you as you lead them to a breakfast spot.

“Spidey, it’s really not that bad.”

“Yeah, says the thrill seeker,” Mark pouts at you, which makes you pinch his cheek. It’s not as soft as it used to be, his baby fat from your first year long gone. It’s replaced by the prominent bone structure that only highlights the features that you secretly want to kiss. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Okay, okay but you still did it! I’m proud of you!”

“Yeah but…” His voice trails off.

“But?” You echo, wondering what Mark wants to say.

He looks shyly at you, a faint redness painting his skin, “Can you sit by me next time?” He asks because you make him feel brave even when he isn’t.

Mark’s timid request has you grinning from ear to ear and your heart beating faster than any roller coaster you’ve been on. Your best friend is expecting an answer, you can tell by his teeth sinking into his thin bottom lip and brown boba eyes widening with each second.

“I mean, you know, like, sitting with Hyuck is cool,” Mark stutters when you don’t answer, trying to explain himself, “but I’d–well, I thought you were gonna sit next to me?” His voice raises at the end due to nervousness and you can’t help but giggle.

“You mean, you were gonna leave poor Hyuck all alone?” you poke fun at him.

Mark deadpans, “He’d survive on his own.”

“I mean, I’ve been here before and it’s everyone else’s first time. I’m okay riding by myself,” you push back with a frown, trying to convince Mark and yourself for that matter, “I just want to make sure everyone is having a good time.”

“I get that but–”

“We’re here!” you cut him off, stopping in front of a quick-service restaurant. You gesture to the door and the others go inside.

Donghyuck, Jeno, and Karina make their way in. You move to follow them but Mark stops you with a hand to your wrist. He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing, and you patiently wait for what he needs to express. The boy lets out a long exhale.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that riding with Hyuck is fun and all but I…” He pauses again. Mark has this habit of not finishing a full thought and you think this is one of those times. Despite that, you listen attentively. “I want you to be my ride partner today, okay?”

And again, your heart shoots to the moon. Its fuel is the adrenaline that runs through your veins as you process his words. A hint of a smile begins to peak out as Mark fuses in front of you.

“I mean, like, I’ve been to theme parks with Hyuck since we were kids, I’m not missing much with that and I just–I kinda–you know–want to experience things with you today.”

The way he confesses this, like every other thing Mark does, is adorable. You hope your forgetful brain will store this memory along with the rest of your core ones. He’s about to go off on another rant, you can tell by the small puffs of breath he takes and the redness that’s flushing his ears, so you end it before it starts.

You cup a hand over his cheek to stop him from going even further and your fingers sense his rapidly beating pulse. “Okay,” you reply softly.

That one word alone has Mark’s expression changing from an unsure one to the brightest face you’ve seen him make all morning. He rivals the sparkles on top of the castle and the bright sun that’s shining over you.

“Really?” He perks up.

“Yeah,” you giggle at his change in mood, “now let’s get some food in you, Spidey boy.”

✨ THE CASTLE

“Get out, Hyuck! Why are you like this?” Karina yells from her spot beside Jeno, clearly frustrated with your friend.

Karina and Jeno stand at the side of the castle, far enough from the crowds but close enough to still get their picture with the iconic landmark. Donghyuck is just out of frame, ready to jump in to ruin whatever adorable shot the couple is trying to take. It doesn’t really matter since you’re continuously snapping away on Karina’s phone. Knowing those two, more than one picture will turn out beautiful. Looking at them, how could they not?

“Because you’re taking too damn long and I want pictures too!”

“You already got yours!” Completely used to their bickering, you shake your head behind the camera.

She’s right. You’ve already taken everyone’s solo pictures at this picturesque spot–Karina taking the longest–and now there were requests for group or partner shots. Jeno, being the perfect Instagram boyfriend, helped take the shots of you and your girl best friend with no pointers needed. You thought you were almost done with this photoshoot but you guessed wrong.

“Not with Mark though!” Donghyuck shouts back, pulling Mark to his side.

“Yo, wait, what?” Mark squeaks.

“You got good enough shots, so move!” Donghyuck has no shame when shoving the resident couple away and dragging Mark to the exact place they stood. You shoot Karina an apologetic look, handing her phone back, right before you grab hold of Donghyuck’s device.

The younger of the duo, as affectionate as he is, has no problem hugging Mark tightly for a picture. Mark sighs but goes with it without much of a fight. You take pictures of Donghyuck hugging Mark from behind, clinging onto the older’s arm, forcing him into making a heart and standing back-to-back. As this goes on for several minutes, you endlessly snap pictures, not even looking at the screen anymore. While doing so, you miss the hushed conversation that happens at the other end of the camera.

“Why am I doing this with you?” Mark hisses in between a grin. His arm around Donghyuck tightens and the younger one almost chokes at the sudden attack. “Are we done yet?”

“Why? Is there someone else you want to take pictures with?”

“Shut up.”

“I will not,” Donghyuck whispers under his breath, wiggling out of Mark’s grip. His volume raises as he announces, “Mark, catch me!” With that, the mischievous kid jumps onto Mark’s back and the elder of the duo has no choice but to do what he says.

Mark groans, “Why are you so annoying?”

“I will continue to be annoying until you man up,” Donghyuck nuzzles his forehead into Mark’s hair with a smirk. “I could keep this going or–”

With that, Mark lets go of his friend’s thighs and Donghyuck slides down with a helpless yelp. The boy is dramatic while dropping to the ground but Mark pays little attention to the action. Instead, he smiles shyly at you.

You raise an eyebrow at the duo’s suspicious actions. “Are you guys good or can we move on now?”

“I–um, actually–” He’s stuttering over his words more than usual, a red tainting his normal skin tone. You know he’s embarrassed but you can’t figure out what’s making him feel this way. The chaotic duo is up to their usual antics of Donghyuck being irritatingly touchy and Mark slowly losing his patience with it all so there’s no visible variable in your eyes. So, what’s the difference in this situation?

“What’s up?” When he doesn’t answer right away, you take that as a sign to keep moving. You turn your body away from him, adjust the straps of your bag to feel more comfortable, and get ready to move on. The park app on your phone is open to all the current wait times and you note that Fantasyland has low numbers, determining the most logical choice for your next destination.

You open your mouth, preparing to spill out your plan to explore Fantasyland when Mark’s feeble voice breaks the silence.

You don’t quite hear him the first time, leaning towards him in hopes that will help you focus on his voice alone. The excitement around the area only increases when the park marching band makes their way to the center of the castle for their afternoon set. Mark huffs in frustration when you fail to hear him for the second time.

But as they say, the third time’s always the charm.

“Take a picture with me!” he yells when the band goes silent. The flush on his face increases tenfold and you almost coo at how flustered he is. His eyes were wide, almost begging for you to grant his request. His ears match the color of his Spider-Man plush hanging on the belt loop of his bottoms.

Wanting to tease him a little more, you say, “We already took a group picture, Marky.”

You hold back your laugh when his hand goes back to fumble with his hair. He muses it, the strands now messy, making him look even more endearing than ever.

“Yeah but–you know what I mean,” Mark’s voice drops at the end, his lips forming a pout. How desperately you want to peck his cheeks but you refrained, still scared of crossing that line. His brows furrowed. “You know what, never mind, dude, let’s go.”

Just as he began to walk away, you tugged him back into place. “I know what you meant, Spidey, I just wanted to mess with you.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he sulks and your fingers reach out to pinch his cheeks. It’s not quite a kiss but it’s close enough.

You run your fingers through his messy hair, quickly fixing it and Mark just lets you, enjoying the little touches you are so willing to give.

“Hyuckie, can you please?” Donghyuck knows exactly what you’re asking of him, taking the phone out of your hands. He sets your phone to 0.5, bends down to get a better angle, and begins to snap away. All the while, you and Mark are a bit awkwardly standing side-by-side for the pictures. Your bodies are stiff--his hand is barely around your waist while his other hand is holding up a peace sign. You copy his pose, your fingers automatically making a V.

“You guys,” Donghyuck sighs, grabbing the attention of Karina and Jeno, “at least act like you’re having fun with these pics. We’re at fucking Disneyland right now.”

Karina laughs at how hopeless the two of you are. She takes pity on you and jumps in to give directions on how to improve your poses. “Mark, if you can just tighten your grip around her waist–”

Mark gulps, his nerves at an all-time high. Your best friend underestimates his own strength as he does what he is told. It happens a little too abruptly and you’re suddenly lurching into his body. Your head lightly hits his chest and you place a hand on the spot to create a little distance. He immediately fusses over you, looking down to check if you’re okay and it turns you into a giggling mess.

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” you reassure Mark with a bright smile on your face.

Once he notices that you are nothing but smiles, the curve of Mark’s pretty mouth matches yours. It brightens his handsome face so much that it matches the glitter found at the castle tops. You take a mental picture of the face he makes, eyes and nose scrunched up with happiness, and the golden glow of the summer sun illuminating his beaming aura.

Mark shakes his head and chuckles, pulling you into a hug. You sink into his hold, your chin perching on his shoulder.

In your mind, Mark Lee is your (awkward) Prince Charming. While you stand together by the castle, you cherish every second he makes you feel like royalty. He rocks you for a couple of seconds, swaying to the song playing in his head, and then pulls away. His stare, however, never leaves yours. You don’t dare break the connection. Your eyes curve up into little crescent moons and your hands drift back down to his chest. You feel the slight heaving from his laughter and it makes you giggle even more.

“Stop laughing at me,” he says with a smile.

“Never,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him.

The two of you are so caught up in your little moment, that you forget that your friends have phones in their hands, documenting everything that just occurred.

“Oh, that one’s cute,” Karina says, snapping the two out of your shared reverie. Jeno and Donhyuck’s heads peak over her shoulders to look at the picture she’s talking about and they hum in reply. Then, she lifts up the phone to your eye level. You and Mark lean forward to take a closer look but the boy refuses to let go of you as you scroll through the selection.

Your finger swipes through what feels like thousands of photos before landing on one that catches your eye. In the photo, you’re so consumed in your laughter, lids closed happily and your dazzling smile half-covered by your hand. Mark holds you in his arms, fondly looking at you with sparkling eyes.

You stare at it a little too long, taking in the way he looks at you. You steal a glance at him and he’s wearing that same soft smile as he scans the photo. It made you wonder if your best friend always looked at you that way. You wonder if this was your first time making note of it.

You pull yourself out of it, knowing that if you ruminate on it anymore, you'll sink into a deep neverending ocean. Your finger taps the bottom of the screen and the heart fills up, adding the picture to your favorite album. You just know this is a picture that had to be included in your photo dump.

“I like this one,” you muster out, fighting the urge to make eye contact with him.

You feel a squeeze around your waist, one that lingers for a moment, and hear him whisper, “I like this one too.”

Mark says it with certainty and with a hint of longing like there’s a deeper meaning behind his words.

There is, of course, a message buried in his words. Mark likes how it’s just the two of you in the picture. He likes how it encapsulates how happy the two of you are in each other’s company. He likes it because it shows how in love with you he is. Mark especially likes it because it has you in it.

Mark Lee likes–no, loves–anything with you in it.

Mark loves you.

Point blank.

Mark loves you.

And Mark hopes that by the end of the night in this magical place, where anything can happen, he can gather enough faith and trust in himself to tell you how he truly feels.

✨ FANTASYLAND

While strolling through Fantasyland, where all things fairy tales come to life, you make a pit stop at a store filled with costumes for princes and princesses. Your friends were amazed to see that deeper into the store, there was a salon that catered especially to children. All the kids sitting in the salon chairs were beaming with excitement as they got their hair and makeup done while dressed up as their favorite characters.

Karina coos as a little princess dressed as Rapunzel passed by her. She ran her fingers through the skirt ends of the costumes, admiring all the different dresses, while the boys immediately reached for the plastic weapons and shields. You hear their dramatic noises as Donghyuck stabs Jeno with a sword. Mark’s familiar laughter bounces off the walls as the fight continues, his hand shakily recording the ridiculous exchange.

“What is this place?” Karina asks curiously, turning to you for an answer. You knew she would love this place–the girl, although people perceived her as a tough girl, loved anything that had to do with princesses.

There’s a sparkle in her eye, which only brightens when she approaches the section belonging to her favorite princess. Karina grabs hold of a pretty character headband, removing the one that’s on her head and tries on the new one. She spins to face you, silently asking if it looks good on her, and you nod enthusiastically, giving her a thumbs up.

“Welcome to the Bippity Boppity Boutique,” you reply happily. Pointing to the cast members working on their guests, you continued, “They’re called Fairy Godmothers in Training. They help the kiddos with their makeovers.”

“Have you done it before?” Mark pops up out of nowhere, a little out of breath from the play fighting he did with the other two. He must’ve joined in the little spar after taking some pictures.

“Yeah, when I was little. I was Cinderella,” you laugh, remembering how pleased you were to be in the chair. You remind yourself to look for those photos; it’s been a while since you’ve seen them. “Can’t do it now as an adult though. Sorry, Rina.”

“Then why’d you bring me here?” She pouts at that, “To torture me? That’s mean. There goes my dream of being a princess.”

Mark bites back a chuckle at her bitter response and Karina has no trouble slapping his shoulder to shut him up. You choose to ignore the childish exchange.

“Well,” you start to say, inching towards the counter where a cast member eyes you curiously. “We can’t get full makeovers but we can get pixie dusted.”

“Pixie dusted?” Mark echoes, tilting his head in confusion. Your fingers twitch and you fight the urge to pet his head.

“The fairy godmothers have wands with them and they basically sprinkle glitter on top of your head while you make a wish. It’s really cute!”

The light in Karina’s eyes glows even brighter than before. “Really? Oh my god, can I do it?!” she asks, bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“I knew you’d like it,” you giggle.

“Babe!” She calls Jeno over.

His head pops up over a display, resembling a puppy hopping out of a hole they just dug. “Yeah?”

“Get pixie dusted with me,” Karina requests, reaching out for him with her wiggling fingers.

Jeno quickly sets down the toys he was playing with, leaving a whining Donghyuck behind, and follows his girlfriend’s lead blindly.

You and Mark watch them silently, both with smiles on your faces, as the couple holds hands and closes their eyes. The worker mumbles a little spiel as she taps her wand, the glitter raining down on their heads. Your camera is at the ready, finger holding down on the burst button for this special moment, capturing Karina’s tiny squeals and Jeno’s chuckles as the pixie dust settles in their hair and on their skin.

“Anyone else?” The Fairy Godmother in Training asks politely, looking at you expectantly.

Mark nudges your side. “You gonna do it?”

“Of course. I’ll never pass up getting pixie dusted,” you say matter-of-factly, stepping forward.

“I want to do it, too,” Mark proclaims, stepping with you.

You laugh and warn him, “You wanna deal with glitter in your hair? It’s going to stay there for days.”

He shrugs, “They grant wishes, right? Maybe I need mine to come true.”

“Oh, yeah? And what wish is that, Spidey?”

He holds a slender figure to his lips. “If I tell you, then it definitely won’t come true. And I need all the help I can get with this one.”

You eye him suspiciously and when he doesn’t give it up, you sigh in defeat. Preparing yourself for the glitter, you bow your head down and close your eyes with your fingers linked together in the tightest hold. Your best friend nudges his forehead against yours and you let out a surprised giggle.

Just like Mark said he needs all the help he can get. He isn’t wishing for any regular thing. He wishes for something more precious than that–your heart.

Sure, this is most likely playing make-believe but Mark Lee wants to believe in it. Maybe this is the little bit of magic he needs. Some might say he’s too old for this sort of thing but he wants to believe in fairy godmothers. He wants to believe in the shiny powder that they call pixie dust. He wants to believe in the magic that you do.

So when the glitter pours down on him, Mark shuts his eyes tightly and grips your hands with all his might.

Mark wishes for your wish to come true,

Mark wishes for your happiness.

But most of all, Mark wishes to be yours.

Your next stop is quite the staple in the park and it’s a must-do on your list. Luckily, they all agree with you and suddenly, you are in line for the iconic teacups. For the summer, the wait isn’t too long–a mere fifteen minutes before it’s your group’s loading time. Before getting on the ride, the five of you decide to break into two groups instead of all squeezing into one tiny spice.

In their excitement, Karina and Donghyuck rush to claim a vehicle. Donghyuck lightly shoves Karina’s side when he realizes they are both aiming for the same cup, causing her to lose her balance. She groans once he hops into the pink teacup with hearts decorating the sides and scurries to grab another pink cup.

“Why are you two like this?” You shout after them, shaking your head.

“When are we not like this?” Hyuck shouts back, his arms already spread across the rim of the cup. He calls you to join him and you do, closely followed by Mark.

Once you are seated and the door to the vehicle is closed, Donghyuck’s expression changes. “We need to spin this baby as fast as we can and we need to last longer than”–he sends a playful glare towards Jeno, whose hands are already resting on the wheel–“them.”

“Oh god, not this shit again,” you roll your eyes.

The boys have an ongoing competition when it comes to spinning rides like these. Whoever spins for the longest period wins; the losers have to treat the winners to a prize of their choice. In the past, it’s been food, plushies, and anything else you can think of.

“Can we just be normal for once?”

“Bubs,” Mark laughs, “when are we ever normal?”

“Touche.”

Donghyuck dramatically drops his hands on the wheel, “Are you ready?”

There’s really no point in this competition. Although Jeno has a stronger build than you, Mark, or Donghyuck, there are only two of them in their cup as opposed to the three of you. There’s a clear winner. Despite that, you copy your mischievous friend’s actions, a smile breaking through your unamused facade. “Alright, Hyuck.”

The spiel is blasted over the speakers, the music begins, and off you all go. Laughter surrounds you as the ride begins to spin. Your hands speedily make work and giggles spill out of your mouth when your hands pile on top of Donghyuck. Your friend matches your enthusiasm, his face crinkled in concentration as he turns the wheel, his whole body moving along with the teacup. You steal a glance at Jeno and Karina; seeing them only fueled your competitiveness and motivation to win this useless contest.

Mark, on the other hand, did not add to the spinning. He just watches his best friends, phone in hand. The device captures the most candid moments of you—smile wide enough to hear your laughter through the screen, hair flying in the wind, hands either gripping the wheel or Donghyuck when the cup goes a little too fast.

Mark snaps a picture of you and Donghyuck cackling, bodies thrown over each other in the height of their fun. Even when your gorgeous smile is aimed at his best friend and not him, jealousy isn’t coursing through his veins. A warm feeling does instead—Mark just loves to see you happy.

He captures one last picture of you, your bright grin shining at him, and your hand reaching towards his camera. If someone were to play that Live Photo back, they would hear the giggles living in your voice as you call Mark’s name to join in on the fun.

This picture is the one he saves in his favorites folder and of course, in his heart.

✨ AVENGERS CAMPUS

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” you ask Mark although the answer is obvious. Ever since you got in line, the boy beside you fidgeted with anything and everything possible. When he wasn’t playing with the keychains on your bag, he messed with the drawstrings of his cargo pants. He had a hard time staying still.

“No one asked you, Bubs," Mark hisses. His voice softens a moment later when he apologizes for snapping. The fussiness he exhibits is adorable in all kinds of ways and you fight the urge to mess with his hair in the meantime. You know it would only make him feel worse.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know,” you reassure him as the people in front of you step forward. “It’s not every day you meet your childhood hero.”

“Isn’t this–I don’t know–a bit childish of me to feel like this? I mean, it’s just a guy in a suit.”

“Hey,” you say, hating the way your best friend tried to bring himself down, “we’re here to let our inner child out. If you’re nervous or excited or whatever you’re feeling, just feel it.”

Mark sighs as the line moves again. “Right. You’re right.”

You laugh, ruffling his hair, “Aren’t I always?”

The boy groans, fingers immediately rising to fix his fringe. “Don’t mess it up, dude, it’s almost my turn.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips instead of an apology. You’re so fond of him. “You’re too cute.”

His cheeks flush with a bright red which only increases his cuteness factor. Mark, flustered as ever, opens his mouth to ask what you mean by that. His sentence is interrupted by the character attendant calling for the next person in line. Your best friend’s nerves are at an all-time high at this point and he looks to you for support.

You shake your head negatively and gesture to the phone in your hand. “This is all you, I have to take your pics!”

Mark sticks his tongue at you in retaliation before taking a deep breath. He approaches the awaiting figure with a cautiousness you’ve never seen from him. But with all due respect, Spider-Man is standing right there in front of him. If your favorite comic book and superhero character of all time stood in front of you, you’d probably react the same way.

“H-hey,” Mark stutters out. You stifle a laugh as you snap the first picture of Mark and Spider-Man shaking hands.

“Hey, man, what’s your name?” Spider-Man greets enthusiastically. He gestures to Mark’s Spider-Man shirt, “Love the shirt.”

“It’s Mark,” he manages to say, “I’m a big fan. We just went on your ride and it was so cool.” Mark gestures to the building behind them, which housed the ride. It was an interactive ride that tasked the riders to help Spider-Man save the Avengers-themed area by shooting webs with motion-tracking technology. “My arm’s kinda tired though, I don’t think I could shoot webs like you.”

His rambling comment makes Spider-Man chuckle, his voice muffled through the red mask. “Yeah, I guess slinging webs isn’t for everyone. But hey, maybe if you train more, and go on the ride a few more times, you’ll be just as good as I am. We’re always looking to recruit new members to the team. You look like you’d be a great addition.”

Mark’s eyes glow with delight as the actor continues to shower him with compliments. “Yo, wait, that’d be so cool!”

“Should I show you some poses to start off with?” Spider-Man excitedly suggests. Mark easily complies and happily follows all the instructions the superhero gives him. While doing so, they stare right into your camera and you snap several photos of each pose.

The joy radiating off of Mark’s face is enough to make your heart soar to a new height. The merriment he and your other friends exhibit as they make their way through the park is why you keep coming back. Disneyland brings everyone’s happiest self out and you will never grow tired of seeing people’s youthfulness shine through.

“Got ‘em!” you shout from your place, giving the duo a thumbs up.

You laugh as both of them return the thumbs up with a lightning-quick speed. Many people pointed out Mark’s speedy reactions, calling them his Spidey senses. Seeing Mark stand tall right next to Spider-Man himself, reacting the same way the character does, makes the term all the more fitting for your friend.

“Hey, you wanna jump in with us for a picture, too?” Spider-Man calls out to you.

“Oh!” you exclaim, not expecting that at all. Your sole goal was to take Mark’s picture with his hero. The thought of you joining in for a picture didn’t even cross your mind. “Sure, why not?” you grin, quickly handing the phone to the attendant on standby.

You swiftly shuffle into position, copying Spider-Man’s iconic pose, as the cast member takes a couple of shots on your phone. They prompt you to pose for the professional camera they have on hand as well and the three of you switch up your poses. The wide smile on your face is identical to Mark’s as the flash goes off. A feeling higher than contentment floods your entire being. You’re happy, incredibly so, to be in this moment with Mark and his hero.

You’re happy.

You see Mark dive right into another rambling burst with the prettiest little sparkle in his eye and you’re in love.

You’re happy and in love with Mark.

Standing by for just a second, you see Spider-Man turn to you and nod his head in acknowledgment. Wordlessly, you open your arms to ask for a hug and the character accepts. “Thank you for making my Spidey’s day,” you whisper as Spider-Man squishes you to his side. “It means a lot to us.”

The actor catches onto the nickname and comments, “He’s your hero, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s my everything,” you confess under your breath and your face immediately heats up upon realizing what you said to a complete stranger.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

The moment passes so quickly, that Mark doesn’t even grasp that two of his favorite people held their own side conversation. You give Spider-Man one last wave, retreat back to the attendant who hands you your phone, and stand off to the side to swipe through the pictures. Mark stops his little rant to watch you with a slight tilt of his mouth.

“She’s a good one,” Spider-Man brings Mark out of his thoughts, “We could use a recruit like her too.”

“She’s really special,” Mark lets out a fond laugh as you happily show your friends the pictures you’ve captured. “She’s my MJ, man.”

The character beside him laughs, not out of ridicule, but because of the similarities the two of you share. “Does she know that?”

“Nah,” Mark’s hair ruffles with the breeze as he shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Better let her know soon then,” he pats Mark on the back, gently pushing him in your direction. “And don’t let her go once you have her,” his hero adds as an afterthought.

Mark turns back to give Spider-Man one last smile, “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Mark Lee doesn’t have you in the way that he wants to, at least not yet, but once he does, there is no way he is letting you out of his sight. He may be the one who carries the heroic nickname but you are the one who has caught him in your web of love. Wherever you go, you have his whole heart.

You are his whole heart.

How can Mark Lee ever live without his whole heart?

✨ CARSLAND / SH-BOOM

“Hurry up, hurry up!” you call to your exhausted friends, who drag their feet behind you.

“But we’re tired,” Karina whines as her steps grow heavier. She’s stolen her boyfriend’s hat to beat the heat but has little luck doing so. Jeno, noting this, turns his portable fan to face her. She wearily smiles at him, squeezing the hand conjoined with hers to thank him.

Donghyuck echoes Karina’s sentiments but you ignore their complaints altogether.

There’s no time to slow down, you think, as you make note of the time. The sun is about to set and your group still hasn’t reached the spot you want–no, need–to be in. You understand their exhaustion because you feel the same way but deep down, you know the hustling will be worth their while.

“You guys, just do what she says,” Mark comes to your defense, giving you a reassuring glance, “I mean, she hasn’t let us down this whole day. I’m sure whatever she’s rushing us for will be worth it.”

You weave and bob through the crowds with ease and your friends fall in line behind you. You pass through the entrance of Avengers Campus and lead them straight into Carsland. A mass of people are gathered at the entrance of the land and you cringe at how packed it is. But upon hearing Donghyuck gasp with excitement, you grin and bear it. In the past, your friend mentioned that Cars was one of his favorite childhood movies. Since you’ve found that out, you’ve gifted him a Lightning McQueen present every year for his birthday.

“Holy shit, bro, I’m in Radiator Springs,” Donghyuck clutches your arm, “This is the best thing ever.”

“Oh, believe me, Hyuckie, it gets even better,” you say, pulling your friend along with you. You giggle at his reactions to every little detail you point out–how everything is built to scale, that all visitors are meant to be cars, how every third blink of the traffic light is slower just like the movie–and his brown eyes widen in childlike wonder.

Once again, Mark stands back as you take care of Donghyuck. He appreciates all the thought you put into this trip–making sure you know everyone’s specific interests and adjusting the day’s itinerary to meet everyone’s wishes. Jeno wanted to get on every thrill ride possible, so you purchased the Lightning Lane express passes to guarantee he had a good time. Karina wanted to feel like a princess, so you took her to the Boutique to get pixie dusted and scheduled time in the Fantasyland area to take as many pictures as she wanted. You spent a bit of time in Avengers Campus so Mark could get the entire Spider-Man experience. And now, you’re expertly guiding Donghyuck through Radiator Springs, equally excited as your friend who’s experiencing everything for the first time.

When everyone else voiced how worn out they were throughout the long summer day, you kept the spirits up and took care of each and every one of them. You may have not outwardly mentioned how spent you were but Mark caught onto the signs. While you were busy tending to each person's wants and needs, Mark found himself taking care of you. You’ve done so much for the group, he wonders what exactly he could do in return.

“Alright, stop right here,” you stop in the middle of the land, granting the group the perfect view of the land, “and face this way.”

“Why are we stopping? Isn’t the ride right there?” Donghyuck points to the end of the area. “I thought we were heading there.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “there’s something we gotta do first.”

“What’s everyone standing around for?” Jeno asks, hugging Karina from behind.

The others take a look around to see that a large crowd has formed in this area of the park, all facing the same way. Everyone is eagerly waiting for the same thing you are, their phones propped up in the air. You take another peek at your weather app and it deems it around one minute before sunset. Perfect.

“Well, my good sir, you are about to find out,” you answer cryptically.

You squeeze Donghyuck’s hand. “You ready, Hyuck?”

“For wha–” His sentence is cut off by the area loop music increasing in volume. Everyone around you cheers as Sh-Boom by The Chords starts to blast through the speakers. “Oh my god.”

The rest of Donghyuck’s sentence is trapped between his teeth as the neon lights, starting from the furthest point of the area, begin to light up. It’s an exact replica of the movie, the lights flickering on with the beat of the old-time music. The bright lights resemble your friends’ expressions, the giddiness of experiencing this iconic moment apparent on their faces. Donghyuck is practically glowing with childlike wonder, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You snap a photo of him as he continues to take it in. Jeno sways Karina back and forth, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist and chin resting on her shoulder as she records the whole thing.

Smiling, you turn to look at Mark whose eyes are solely trained on you. His phone is in hand, aimed in your direction, and you assume he took a picture of the lit-up signs behind you. “Isn’t it so pretty?” you ask, hands gesturing to the entire area.

Mark’s gaze doesn’t falter, doesn’t leave you when he answers, “It’s the prettiest.”

A heat spreads to all parts of your face and body at his flirtatious response. You turn away from him, too embarrassed to meet his soft stare. “It’s one of my favorite times of the day. My family always came here at sunset just to watch it. It’s fun watching everyone’s reactions and seeing people dance to the music, like them”–you point to a dancing couple, the man spinning his partner and the woman laughing gleefully–“I dunno, it just makes me happy.”

“I can see why,” Mark chuckles.

Your gaze lingers on the duo and Mark spots a look of longing in your eyes. Your best friend sees a chance, one as clear as day, and with all the bravado he can muster, Mark takes it. He tugs you towards him and you gasp at the sudden movement.

“What?” you whisper.

Mark sticks out a hand for you to take and bashfully says, “Dance with me.”

“What?” you repeat in shock, eyes dropping from his face to his outstretched hand.

“You heard what I said,” your best friend chuckles, “Dance with me.”

Instead of waiting for a response from you, Mark takes your palm in his and gently places his other hand around your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, anxious eyes meeting his own, and the boy shoots you a reassuring smile. He takes the lead, guiding you through a few swing steps as you dance on the street. You’re a little unfocused through it all, your mind wandering from the warmth of his touch to his unfaltering look.

“Have you always known how to swing?” you ask as he leads you into a spin.

Mark dances with an ease you don’t expect from his clumsy self. You’re used to his harder, sharper style of dancing he exhibits when you all go out dancing–the lighter style catching you completely off-guard. It makes you fall for your best friend a little more than you already have.

He nods as he catches you in his arms before turning you around again. “Yeah, I learned from watching my parents dance. I only really danced with my mom, though. I guess I was just–” Mark coughs, shaking his head.

“Just what?” You egg him on, wanting to hear what your crush has to say.

“No, never mind, it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” you quip.

“Nah, it’s stupid,” Mark tries to dismiss it, distracting you with another spin.

With him being the perfect leader, your sneaker-clad feet move in time with him, following wherever he goes. “Nothing you say is going to be stupid,” you add, squeezing his palm.

You know you’ve won the argument when Mark sighs. He’s so close to you now, you can feel his breath hit your face. There’s a hint of fresh spearmint, coming from the gum you offered him earlier. Any closer and your lips can press right into his, completing the romantic moment that you could only dream about.

Mark gulps nervously as you look up at him with confusion. The words come tumbling out before he can stop himself from making a fool, “I guess I was just waiting for the right partner.”

There’s more to Mark’s sweet reply than meets the eye. Once again, you burn up at the implications. You shouldn’t assume the meaning behind your crush’s words but something about the way he said it makes you believe that you are the partner he is waiting for. To be deemed worth waiting for is a girl’s deepest fantasy and your heart swells in your chest at the thought of it all.

Despite the rapid thoughts running through your head, the only thing you can spit out is a quiet, “Oh.”

Mark renders you speechless at the favorite part of the day and in your favorite place in the entire world; he pockets this as a big win. With his warm hand resting at your waist and the other clutching your calm, Mark leads you into a flurry of sequential moves. Never once does he bump into another person in the crowd, he navigates through the small space you’re granted so gracefully. Dancing with him brings you to such a natural high, you feel lighter than air.

The laughter that spills from your lips fills his heart with joy and as the song reaches its end, the arm at your waist tightens enough to usher you into a dip. As your torso lowers, his body follows your own. He keeps you in this position, his pretty brown eyes glued onto your shaking pupils. He’s so near, that your sight triangulates from his eyes down to his grinning lips. You notice the pink that tickles his skin, from his squishy cheeks to his pierced ears.

As Mark pulls you back up, you circle your arms around his neck and give him the biggest hug in existence. You whisper a light and heartfelt, “thank you,” in his ears and Mark responds by pulling you closer.

While the song that played through the speakers announced, “Life could be a dream,” Mark Lee deems that his life already is. To him, his life is a dream and that’s because you’re in it.

✨ FIREWORKS

The sun has set and your entire group is tired but the day’s not quite over yet. The five of you are amongst the throng of people seated on the asphalt, bodies splayed in all sorts of configurations. Karina and Jeno are in front of you, whispering happily as they go through all of their pictures together. Donghyuck has no problem taking a nap on the floor, using some plastic bags as his makeshift mattress and Karina’s new plushie as a pillow. Mark, on the other hand, is seated on your right and silently playing a game on his phone.

The extent of your tiredness didn’t hit until you sat on the floor, a groan leaving your mouth as you fought to find a comfortable position. The ground really isn’t the best place to sit but you have to camp out for the best view of the castle and the fireworks. You find yourself hugging your legs and resting your face on your knees to keep yourself warm. The weather is a lot cooler than it was earlier in the day and the slight breeze has you shivering.

“You okay?” Mark asks, still looking at his phone.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“You keep moving around like you’re uncomfortable or something,” Mark pauses his game and notices the goosebumps on your skin, “Bubs, are you cold?”

“Yeah, just a little bit but I’ll deal with it.” You leave out the fact that you’re tempted to buy a sweater from a gift shop, just as you do every single time you get cold in the parks. It’s an expensive tradition you need to break. Plus, there’s no more room in your closet for more cozy crewneck sweaters.

Another quiver runs through your body as the winds blow through the area. Mark frowns as you tighten the grip around your legs. He immediately shrugs off the zip-up he wore, draping it around your curled-up shoulders. The warmth of the fabric combined with the smell of his cologne hits you all at once.

“Mark, I told you I’m okay,” you pout at him as he gets up from his spot. He stops you from taking it off, his palms firm on your back. “You’re gonna get cold.”

He disagrees, pulling the hood over your head. “Nah, I run hot anyway. I don’t want you to get sick or anything so just leave it on, okay?”

“But–”

“For me?” Mark pushes. He smiles when you pout even further, knowing there’s no way you can beat him in this conversation. “That’s my girl,” he adds, a hand coming to cup the back of your neck. A sudden urge comes over him and before he even places what he's doing, Mark plants a tiny kiss on the top of your head. You feel the slight pressure of his lips between the fabric and your head is reeling the second he pulls back.

“I’ll be right back,” Mark whispers before setting off into the crowd.

You’re frozen in place, the ability to respond nonexistent in your mind. You simply watch as he fades away and then, the shyest smile breaks through. There are no clouds left in the sky but you’re officially on Cloud 9, your heart beating rapidly in your chest, and your face buried into the sleeve ends of his jacket.

True to his word, your best friend returns fifteen minutes later with a plastic bag in one hand and a hot drink in the other. Mark pulls out the coziest Disney-themes blanket you have ever seen, folds it in half, and then places it onto the floor. He motions for you to sit on it and you smile even wider. “Better?” he asks as you settle crisscross on the soft fabric.

A relieved sigh slips past your lips as the soft material rubs against your skin. “So much better.”

Mark plops himself right beside you. His bare arm presses against yours in an attempt to fit on the blanket. There’s lots of space left but you don’t mind, snuggling right up to his side. He chuckles at your action, draping his arm around your hoodie-clad shoulders to pull you closer. “Got you a hot chocolate too, passed by the cafe across from the gift shop,” your crush gently places the drink in your hands.

“You really didn’t have to,” you mutter, hiding your smile behind the drink.

“Wanted to.”

“Thanks,” you reply in between your tiny sips.

“Anything for you, Bubs.”

With his arm around you and your body cozied up to his side, the time passes quickly. You’re in your own world, your quiet conversations drowned out by the chatter of the large crowd surrounding the castle area. The cocoa is passed back and forth between his hand and yours, an indirect kiss shared each either of you takes a sip. You laugh over things that happened throughout the day, from Mark’s burnt tongue to all the hideous ride pictures your friends took while wholeheartedly enjoying themselves.

When Mark takes a big sip, you crack an unexpected joke that leaves him choking on the drink. Your roaring laughter attracts the attention of the others around you but you are so into Mark, you don’t even notice. He’s a sputtering mess, with the hot drink all over his cheeks and hands. You help him through it, one hand patting his back and the other reaching up to wipe away the liquid with his sleeve.

“You’re so silly,” you whisper fondly as your thumb rubs against his soft cheek.

“No, you just caught me off guard,” Mark replies, nuzzling into your hand. The moment feels a little too intimate, especially when his fingers reach up to connect with yours, but you don’t want it to end. It finally feels like something good is happening. It feels like the dream you’ve kept deep in your heart is coming true and you don’t want to fight it.

You pay no attention to the way your friends are staring knowingly at you like this was all meant to happen. Your eyes are solely trained on Mark and how he holds you so delicately as if you were a bubble about to burst. Mark keeps you tucked into him until the five-minute before the fireworks announcement blasts through the speakers.

Mark is the first to get up off the blanket and you hate how easily he does so. The feeling of pins and needles travel down your legs as you try to get up. You moan in pain, struggling to get up. When you finally rise from the ground, your knees buckle and you lose your balance. A little noise slips out as you stumble, your clumsiness almost leading you straight into another person. Strong hands from behind immediately fly to your hips to keep you steady and you fall right back into Mark’s sturdy chest.

His hands remain at your hips as you turn to look at him. You mumble an apology and he clutches your waist a little harder. “Who’s the silly one now, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Even as the moment ends, Mark’s hands stay in place. The only movement he makes is a minuscule tug that molds you into his chest. He hears no complaints from you, just a pleased little sigh, that signals you’re one hundred percent okay with what is happening.

The surrounding lights dim, projections on the castle come alive, and music that could only be described as magical begins to play. It’s the scene of your dreams–you are in the hold of someone you love as fireworks light up the sky. The show’s just begun and here you are, wishing you can stay in this moment forever.

Seeing as how he’s made it this far, Mark puts on his bravest face and circles his arms around your waist. You hum in approval, resting your hands right above his. He replies by tangling his digits with yours and you smile so widely, it’s brighter than the pyrotechnics shooting off above you.

The soundtrack isn’t new to you; it’s the show the park features every summertime, so you find yourself humming along to every section and transition that passes. By the time the love-themed section bleeds through the sound system and the castle glows with pinks and reds, you tell your best friend, “This is my favorite part.”

He says nothing in response, too busy admiring you instead of the show. Mark rests his chin on your shoulder, his gaze directed at the side of your face. He takes in the sight of the glow the lights cast on you, your lips curled up as you mouth each and every lyric.

It’s quite obvious that he’s staring at you. Even if you didn’t catch him from the corner of your eye, you feel Mark’s steady breath hit your neck and cheek. Your entire body radiates heat upon this realization. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to calm the hopeless romantic inside you.

You want to look at him, you really do, but you’re scared of what will follow after you meet Mark’s eyes. But when he whispers about your favorite song playing, your heart swells at his great memory, and you turn.

The tip of Mark’s nose grazes yours after your sudden movement. You’re right there, less than a breath away from him, and his eyes are filled with immense tenderness. In your years of knowing Mark Lee, you’ve never seen him look at another person the way he’s looking at you at this moment. It’s a look filled with endearment and affection, leaving your heart swelling in your chest.

You barely hear the boom of the fireworks shooting off, not when Mark’s eyes flitter down to your parted lips. He’s captivated your heart and soul, you can’t help but nudge your nose against his as you inch closer. It’s a silent signal, one he understands without further explanation. Your best friend shuts his eyes, calls upon the glittery pixie dust that sits in his hair and makes his final wish of the night. He wishes for the strength to make his next move.

Mark’s soft lips touch yours most delicately; the press is merely there, and it throws you for a loop. The kiss makes you so incredibly giddy, that you turn your head even more and your hand anchors itself to his cheek. It keeps you steady as he dives in for seconds, this one more eager than the first. With your favorite love song in the background and the fireworks booming in the distance, you are happier than ever.

You are so happy that your wide grin and little giggles cause Mark to break away for a short moment. He plants another peck amid your laughter and soon he’s chuckling too. The arms around your waist lock you in place as he burrows into the crook of your neck, placing the tiniest kiss where your pulse hammers against your skin.

Mark’s feet are on the ground but he feels like he’s flying. His heart has grown wings, allowing him to soar to new heights. He feels like he can touch every little star in the sky. Kissing you in this land of make-believe, underneath the fireworks, feels like a miracle and he fears that he will never come down again.

He’s pretty sure the gleam in your eyes mirrors his own. It’s so pretty and bright and magical–it encompasses all the emotions stirring in his chest. They start from his heart, bubble up through his neck, and the words he’s been meaning to say spill out as a crescendo booms throughout the area. “You’re my wish come true.”

Turning in his hold, you circle your arms around his neck. You draw him closer, your lips ghosting against his to say, “And you are mine,” before closing the sentence with another kiss.

You’ve always loved fairytale endings–how the prince always gets the princess at the end of the story. When he grins against your lips, you realize you’ve been in one the entire time. The story of you and Mark is more than a dream that filled your head. It’s more than something you wished upon a star for. Your story is the slowest burn that led to the greatest happy ending.

All it needed was a little faith, trust, and a whole lot of pixie dust.

TAGLIST. (tagging my gen taglist and friends that I think will be interested in it hehehe) @winwintea @johtenrecs @lavendersuh @itsapapisongo @nctsworld @hotdogct @smileysuh @suhnnyskiess @jaemdonuts @haetrack @bat-shark-repellant @bebsky

FINAL PARK ANNOUNCEMENT. Hey everyone! Long time no post. I think the last time I posted a fic was in either December or January? I'm happy to be back for a hot second. This fic was inspired by many things: Mark calling his fans "his MJ," my personal visits to Disneyland over the years, and especially the trips I've gone on with friends that I've met on this site. Hehehe. I really hope you all enjoy this rainbow of magic and fluff. Please let me know what you think of it. Your feedback keeps me going! Love always, Nikki <3

#nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct x reader #mark lee #mark imagines #mark scenarios #mark fanfic #mark fluff #mark lee x reader #mark x reader

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queeoretician · 9 months

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It's amazing how much incidental and easy-to-miss queerness tazmuir manages to pack into the Fourth House section of the Cohort Intelligence Files at the end of GtN.

"Sir Jeannemary Chatur" is a cool vibe and easy to spot, but it's worth taking a close look at Judith's notes on Isaac too:

Abigail Pent has forged a strong relationship with both Tettares and Chatur, much stronger even than her mothers’ relationship with Tettares’ father. It is already suggested that her nephew will be affianced to him once they are of age.

Firstly, "mothers'" (not "mother's"), indicating that Abigail has two moms - this is subtle enough that I missed it in all 5 or so of my prior readings.

Second, and more complicatedly, that Abigail is planning to have Isaac marry her nephew. On the surface of it, this seems cool - my initial reading was that Isaac is gay, and Abigail wants him to have a spouse who he has some chance of being interested in. But given that this is in the context of an arranged marriage between aristocratic families, we should also consider the reproductive lens (especially given the mention of his siblings being "a mix of vat-womb and XX carry" in the preceding paragraph) - I think a more compelling reading of this passage is actually that Isaac is trans¹ (or Abigail's nephew is). And tugging on this thread takes us to a bit of a dark place.

Given how much the Fourth and Fifth evidently care about the heredity of their rulers, we can infer that someone in Isaac's position wouldn't have any real reproductive autonomy even if he had survived to adulthood. And while the existence of vat wombs obviates the horror of forced pregnancy/childbirth, this is still a pretty fucked up situation (to say nothing of the Ninth where they don't even have access to vat wombs). To me, this signifies a fundamental injustice of organising society around hereditary nobility; one that persists even if it can be made to be superficially gay- and trans-inclusive.

With this in mind it's worth interrogating my use of the word "queerness" at the beginning of the post. In the real world "queer" is viable as an umbrella term for all the many LGBTQIA+ identities specifically because those identities are all at odds with the cis-/hetero-/etc.-normative nature of our society. But in the Nine Houses it doesn't seem like being gay/bisexual/trans is stigmatised in the same way, so one could say that these identities are not "queer" per se (strange, other) in a diegetic context.

"Sir Jeannemary Chatur" reflects a similar mismatch. In the real world, a woman using the title "sir" is at odds with both traditional gender roles and (more significantly) institutional usage of the title. But in the Nine Houses this title seems to be devoid of any specific gendered connotations, and its application to Jeannemary is not a subversion of that society's gender norms, but instead an affirmation of the (normative, exploitative) social role of cavalier.

So in summary: Isaac is trans, what queerness means in the Nine Houses can be quite different from what it means in the real world, and pinkwashing an unjust society doesn't make it more just (even if it's headed by a queer person).

¹ This isn't to say that Isaac isn't gay - I headcanon him as both gay and trans. But I don't think him being married off to Abigail's nephew is (primarily) about his sexual orientation.

PS: If you like being haunted by the ghosts of these characters, check out @katakaluptastrophy's fic, Your children are weapons, which got me thinking about these two again lately.

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta #isaac tettares #jeannemary chatur #abigail pent

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revehae · 6 months

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party monster

pairing ↠ best friend!jennie x (f) reader (but not really)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, thoughts of noncon, sub!jennie, oral, noncon recording, monsterfucking

summary ↠ for years you’ve crushed on jennie kim, your best friend, the queen of queens, the party monster. but it seems that you’re not exactly her type.

wc ↠ 3.3k

a/n ↠ this is my first time writing this kind of fic in 6 months so i am unfortunately quite rusty…

don’t like it, don’t read.

she looked like royalty on top of him.

you couldn’t deny it - you could never deny jennie anything. how could you? she was funny, enchanting, downright beautiful, and she was your friend of many years.

your best friend, to be exact. it was a title you were proud to claim, one you had never taken for granted. you had always been there, whether she needed to laugh or she needed to cry, and you would always be there for whatever she needed.

but apparently, she didn’t need you for this.

it was not your intention to find her this way, to be fair. in your search for an empty bathroom, chance had led you to the one connected to the bedroom your best friend and her boy toy occupied. you had only come here in need of relief, but in her own way, jennie yearned for something similar.

yet so different all at once. you knew her voice when it came to your ears, even if it was at a pitch and with a breathlessness you had never quite heard, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. they must have been too lost in the haze of their arousal, because they never seemed to notice they’d left the bathroom door open for all the world to see.

and you did see. you saw her on top of this nameless boy, her cashmere dress in a heap on the floor, sweat gathering at her soft skin and glimmering in the moonlight like precious pearls. you saw how pleasure took her by its gnarled hand, her lips crying the cries of angels. you saw how his greedy hands were all over her, touching her, surely not knowing just how lucky he was.

you could only stand there, trembling with the intensity of an emotion you had never known this deeply. there was a hot throb in your chest as cruelly it tightened, and in the same moment you could hear this nameless boy swearing about how tightly she was wound around him.

in that moment, she had taken a form you had never seen of her before, becoming a thing so violently unknown to you, and all you could think about was how none of it was for you. it was certainly not the first time she’d whored herself out to someone that wasn’t you, but seeing it happen in front of you was different than being regaled on the tales.

those boys were faceless, something you could convince yourself never existed as you pictured only jennie’s cries of ecstasy. even now, this nameless boy wasn’t so nameless anymore as you heard it fall brokenly from her lips.

but it’s okay, you consoled yourself, turning away from the door. you could fix her.

that had been three months ago at least. you were still doing everything in your power to come up with something to salvage your broken heart with, in spite of already knowing jennie got around, but you had come short of viable options.

and like that fateful night all those months before, you were at another party, because nights in new york were when party monsters like jennie came to life. and as to expected of her, she’d strutted inside sporting this lacy dress, the same vibrant red color as her lips.

she was stunning in red.

it was something you had told her more than once. you took your role as jennie’s best friend as though you were the queen’s aide, and in a way, that wasn’t so far from the truth. she was the queen of queens, the party monster, and a woman of her caliber had to look nothing less than like art at every party she set foot on.

that red cashmere dress lived in your head. you had been the one help her decide, and yet some boy had been the one to take it off.

“hey, where’s jen?” rosé asked, poking her head around the corner.

“no idea,” lisa said, finishing what was left of her exquisite wine.

the two girls glanced toward you. of course they did; you were jennie’s best friend. apparently, you were supposed to know what she was up to at all times.

you sighed, peeling yourself off the sofa and sitting your drink on the table. “i’ll look,” you started. “but if she’s somewhere getting dicked down again, you’re going to make an enemy out of me.”

rosé blew you a kiss. “thanks, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, giving your drink one last longful glance as you stepped out of the room.

you took a guess that rosé had come from the main hall and if she hadn’t scouted jennie there, then there was a fair chance she was in one of the upstairs rooms. getting dicked down, you thought disheartenedly, but you searched nonetheless.

you had only seen her that way once and it was something you surely never wanted to see ever again. the memory of the thunder in your chest still lingered and maybe the feeling itself hadn’t exactly faded.

what would it take for her to understand that she was yours? she may not have realized it yet, but you were everything she needed. you could please her in ways she’d never imagined, take her to heights that’d never before been.

you stilled when you heard her voice, almost walking straight past the door. it was of some kind of relief that there were no moans, and she seemed to be quietly chatting about something. with the door barely open, you slipped inside, hoping that it wouldn’t creak.

it took all of two seconds to recognize her, standing at the edge of the bed, but there were no words to describe the horror on your face when you saw the thing next to her.

deep black in color, draped in some slick, indigo substance that coated it smoothly, and towering two feet over her. teeth that could kill with one slight graze. it didn’t look of this world. and yet, jennie didn’t seem afraid; she looked exasperated.

“i thought i told you to stay home,” she hissed, glaring up at the creature. whatever the hell it was.

the alien-like creature seemed indifferent, from what you could make of its features. “hungry,” was all it said.

jennie didn’t seem impressed. “you were fed before i left.”

“hungry,” it repeated, raspier, brushing a long finger down her dress.

jennie slapped its hand away, shaking her head. “no, not here. there’s people, carnal.”

carnal said nothing, overcome by a need that went beyond the bounds of human desire, and returned its finger to her dress. for a second, you thought that it would tear it to shreds, but instead it unzipped the back quicker than she could dispute.

you could hear her whining, but carnal was intent on taking and little would come between that purpose. jennie gasped when it took her by the arm and tugged her onto the floor, silently demanding in its approach, all the while her pretty red dress was tossed into oblivion.

for whatever reason, the sight hadn’t troubled you like it did not too many moons ago. it intrigued you. part of you wanted to emerge from the cloak of the shadows to rescue her from this creature, but the other wanted to watch and see how this would unfold.

jennie’s eyes burned fiercely of ire. “i won’t do it.”

carnal glanced down at her and you swore the sight gave you shivers, but jennie didn’t move. “no?”

“no.”

you had to restrain yourself from gasping when carnal grabbed jennie by strands of hair at the back of her head. it forced her mouth onto its cock, a death grip on her tresses. her whimpers of protest were muffled, meaningless little sounds that no one would bother to hear.

it would be a lie to do otherwise, and thus you had to confess to yourself that you were bemused by the sheer size of its girthy cock. jennie could hardly fit anything an inch longer than the tip into her mouth. it stroked her limits, sped right by them.

but the part that bemused you even further was how after a minute or three, jennie didn’t seem to hate it. there was no way in hell your eyes were making up the way she sucked in every bit she could take, eagerly bobbing her head.

the muffled cries waned into muffled moans, and for no good reason. no efforts were being taken to please her in return. she was this meek little thing on her knees before an otherworldly creature with a name far too apt.

carnal did not react too strongly, but you had to assume that jennie’s potent greed did a number on it. she wasn’t going anywhere, yet the death grip on her hair only got tighter. what she couldn’t fit between her stained lips, she took in her hands and kneaded between her supple fingers.

your mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, stretched across a plane of thought. you were strangely immersed in the horrors in front of you, but your questions wandered. every moment that passed, you wondered if maybe you’d had a little too much to drink.

this was a dirty little secret that even you never knew your best friend had. you couldn’t even begin to fathom how this strange creature could be more than a figment of imagination, and you decided that it wasn’t. it would spare you the headache.

you could see the indent on jennie’s hollowed cheeks, hear the wet noises coming from her lips. perhaps it was stranger that you didn’t hate it. only moments ago you had been prepared to curse whatever idiot of a boy you found her with, and now you were quieter than a mouse.

jennie looked like a pebble at its feet. the beast was more massive than you cared to admit aloud, with a strength that spoke for itself, and a cock that promised total destruction and not anything less. it must’ve been part of the allure for her, because you had never seen her so eager.

and why would she be? the queen of new york city herself never had to ask for anything twice, if at all. it would be an honor for anyone to behold her bare form, but none of that power manifested here in this bedroom. she was sucking carnal off like a common whore begging for a dollar.

your memories reeled back to some instances, not many but a few, where you had noticed her visibly adjusting herself after what you could only assume had been a brief sexcapade in a closet somewhere. and for a moment you stopped to wonder if those faceless people you imagined her with had not been boys, but this damned beast.

it almost made you angrier, trying to fathom how this thing had better chances than you did at pursuing her, and all it took was a little force. had you known that, you would’ve staked your claim to her already.

greed was heavy in the air and you saw carnal seize control after allowing jennie to do as she pleased with it, fucking her mouth harder than she could manage. you couldn’t help but be aroused at the sound of her harshly choking. but she didn’t give up, taking every thrust.

quiet sounds escaped carnal’s mouth, raspy to the ears. it did not have much to say, you’d noticed, and it didn’t need to say much either. you could tell that they’d done this countless times before, because they slipped into this as though it was routine.

maybe you were making it up in your mind, but you could’ve sworn that the room had soared a thousand degrees hotter. part of it was ire on your end, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your core. to see her this way, meek and pliant, brought out an insatiable hunger within you.

by the second carnal’s thrusts were becoming more erratic, its self control seemingly unraveling hard. you were impressed that jennie hadn’t begun to choke again, in spite of the relentless pace. you were certain her jaw strained from the effort, but she still made herself a perfect little toy.

you recognized the brink of ecstasy when you saw it and carnal was at the very cusp. its groans even became a little louder, coming from the back of its throat. the only other thing you could hear was labored breathing and the wet smack of jennie’s lips.

you wouldn’t have wanted to cum that way, you would have wanted to be buried every inch deep between her legs, but after a short moment, the thrusts came to a still and carnal growled. given your angle and the darkness, it was hard to see, but you partly saw the leftover cum she couldn’t swallow drip from her chin.

jennie pushed her mouth off, wiping her lips. her naked chest was heaving for breath. when she stood, you could see the shimmer of tears in her misty eyes. she looked like a train wreck.

not a moment later, carnal tore her towards the bed and she gave a high squeak of surprise. your gaze was fixed to her every movement. on the bed, carnal hoisted her into the air as though she was featherlight and sat her over it. jennie reached for its shoulders.

but carnal, on the other hand, had reached for something else. to your surprise, it began to lubricate her comparatively smaller cunt with its own indigo slick. jennie whimpered, arching into its long, thick fingers as they ran across her folds. there was no doubt that she had become aroused simply by pleasuring this creature, and you could only imagine the ache in her core.

it must’ve been similar to yours. this incessant throbbing that yearned to be soothed; a hunger to touch or be touched.

“carnal,” jennie whined. “please, please…”

carnal didn’t seem to be listening to her borderline anguished cries of desperation, its fingers stretching her cunt open, almost like it was preparing her to take something much larger. but nothing was enough for an insatiable little minx like jennie.

“i don’t care if it hurts,” jennie added, to your shock. “i just want you to fuck me. please, carnal?”

carnal slipped its fingers out of her lubricated pussy and jennie made a noise of discontent at the emptiness, in spite of it being what she had asked for. it was too dark to be certain, but you swore that for half a second, there was a dark gleam of hunger in its heavy eyes.

the alien-like beast hoisted jennie up in a single arm and steered its cock to her entrance in the other. it was still stiff in its palms, and you got the feeling that it would take far more than one orgasm to sate a beast of its nature.

it didn’t seem to be concerned with taking its time or allowing her room to adjust to the stretch, but the look on jennie’s face told you that it was what she wanted. there was pain on her lips and pleasure in her eyes, the two being bred into something lethal.

“oh my god,” jennie moaned, tightening her grip on carnal’s shoulders.

carnal grasped her hips, using her as though she was merely some kind of toy rather than a human capable of being wounded. it lifted her up and down its thick shaft, leaving her to do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and hold on for dear life.

you swallowed hard. when she was being used by a beast two times her size and infinitely stronger than herself, your best friend looked less and less human. she didn’t look like something worthy of respect or dignity. had you not known any better, you would’ve thought she was just some whore.

this was something that you had never seen, something different than before; when you saw her then, she was taking her power, but seeing her now, all of it had been reaped from her body.

deep, guttural grunts escaped the back of carnal’s throat as it rutted into her savagely, at a rhythm that rendered her thoughtless. jennie’s tears stung her eyes yet she kept babbling incoherently, addicted to the agony. there were red lines on her skin from where its nails had dug into her, but from how tight she clung to it, carnal was bound to have plenty of its own.

maybe in some sick, twisted way, the pain and the fear heightened the sensations of ecstasy that it tugged her nearer to every second of every minute. there was no pleasure without pain, and the promise of both had tempted jennie far beyond the point of no return. she was a fiend, you realized, for things that were bad for her.

somewhere in the midst of your astonishment of watching your best friend getting railed by nothing less than an unworldly beast, you remembered your anger, your frustrations. a thought a struck you then, selfish in nature, but bound to work in your favor.

you pulled your phone from your rear pocket and opened the camera, getting it to focus on the two unlikely partners that were showing one another other worlds. if jennie knew you had proof of this tryst, she wouldn’t turn you down for anything. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of the idea sooner.

jennie threw her head back, calling out for carnal. “harder,” she whispered.

carnal silently obliged, but it appeared more like it had lost whatever remained of its self-restraint. jennie’s sounds became louder then, higher in pitch, and you couldn’t miss the way her brows furrowed together.

your camera didn’t, either.

the sound of sex filled the room at an unfathomable intensity. there was a very obvious wet, slick squelch of their skin meeting that anyone could have heard if they walked just shy of the door. jennie’s cunt had already been drenched with arousal on its own, but the addition of carnal’s slick didn’t help.

you almost couldn’t stand it and that feeling was inexplicably amplified knowing that whatever this thing was she surrendered herself to wasn’t even human. but you were embraced by the comfort that you would be its place soon, whether she wanted it or not.

you were imagining it. if you closed your eyes and listened only to the sound of jennie’a pretty little voice, you could picture that it was you she was making all those pitiful sounds for.

“fuck, i’m so…,” jennie trailed, unable to even get the words off the tip of her tongue.

but she didn’t need to say it. carnal saw it. you saw it. hell, anybody half as curious as you were could have been right here, about to witness it. she was on the brink of climax, the cusp of ecstasy, and it was unkind.

and as much as it angered you, you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away for a minute. you had to know what it was like, to see her truly unravel, to lose herself in the highs of pleasure and the throes of sex.

jennie brought a hand to her naked chest, pinching her own nipple. you could see moonlight shimmering on the beads of moisture that clung to her, dancing on the misty haze of lust in her eyes.

it was at that moment you saw the party monster for what she really was. the intensity at last was too much for her to handle and jennie shuddered with climax, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her toes curling. she cried out the prettiest whimper, singing a name that wasn’t yours.

and somehow none of that mattered, because the beast she let ravage her wasn’t finished. it tossed her onto the bed and continued, fucking her like an animal, like a monster.

you had seen enough. you had what you needed. with the promise of satisfaction vying against the contempt simmering deep within you, you slipped out where you had came.

too soon to see her eyes fade pitch black.

#jennie smut #blackpink smut #gxg smut #girl group smut #jennie kim smut #revehae fics

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callimara · 1 month

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Breath of the Wild!Jelsa AU (Analysis & Parallels)

Yes yes I know I’m at it again but dear reader, I ask that you once again HEAR ME OUT and LET ME COOK.

At some point in the middle of the day today as I am cleaning the house, the idea came to me like a vision and the more I thought about it, the more the lines started CONNECTING and MAKING SENSE.

In part I am writing this as I have a deep love for both The Legend of Zelda franchise (and Breath of the Wild IN PARTICULAR as my first Zelda game) AND Rise of the Guardians (I do not feel particularly strongly about Frozen aside from Elsa as a character, but I DO feel EXTREMELY strongly for Jelsa, which is NECESSARY for this AU and comparison to work!!!) and another part an attempt to get my very good, very intelligent, extremely GIFTED friend and favorite fic writer @therentyoupay into ANOTHER ship I am deeply passionate about: ZeLink.

So perhaps this analysis post can be best summed up as "Explaining ZeLink through the lens of Jelsa" or vise versa.

In fact, ZeLink is another ship I am already planning a video on, but for now, this particular AU calls to me and demands to be elaborated on and perhaps illustrated at some point 👀

Who is Who?

For this post, I will be focusing on the Three Bearers of the Triforce:

Ganon/Ganondorf (Triforce of Power),

Zelda (Triforce of Wisdom), and

Link (Triforce of Courage),

who are always being reborn and fated meet, and the central characters of every LOZ story (but we'll get to the Champions in the next post)

As the prevailing bearer of the Triforce of Power, Ganon or Ganondorf (his human form) is the archnemesis of Link and Zelda.

With titles such as The Prince of Darkness and The Demon King, it's only right that this role is given to Pitch Black.

Power

Unlike Link or Zelda whom, among their many incarnations, may not be in possession of their respective Triforces, Ganon is always the bearer of the Triforce of Power due to his sheer desire for ruling the world with an iron fist. This is the same desire expressed by Pitch Black in both the movies and books, as his ambition is to cover the world in darkness and fear: completely under his control. Their powers are similar in nature, it corrupts and leaves a stain (malice) on the wider environment. They share a love of conquest and destruction and delight in seeing those around them suffer.

Scheming

Though both Ganon and Pitch are undoubtedly capable of taking what they want with sheer brute force, both characters possess a penchant for scheming and tactical strategy. They conquer not only on the battlefield, but in the court of politics, where necessary. Though we don't see this demonstrated in BOTW, we do see his political savvy and the extend of his scheming in Tears of the Kingdom when he still possessed his human form. They are incredibly dangerous tacticians that is often one step ahead of the heroes, thus able to out-maneuver them and gain the upper hand.

Hubris

As is often their undoing, their confidence in being ahead causes them to lose their composure. Power corrupts, and this weakness of mind causes them to make fatal, self-destructive mistakes that create an opening for the Hero to seize.

A Hero Destined to Rise Against Him

In both of Ganon/Ganondorf and Pitch's cases, they are destined to be ultimately defeated by a Chosen Hero who wields a Weapon that can seal their Darkness.

Which segways us perfectly to our next character, our Chosen Hero!

Unsurprisingly, Jack Frost fits Link's role as the Hero of the Wild in the story perfectly.

Chosen for A Big Destiny

Although unlike Link, Jack was not personally aware of the "why" for his existence and recruitment into the Guardians until much much later, he was indeed, nevertheless chosen. The reasons for his choosing, in broad strokes, are similar to Link's circumstances. Both of them demonstrated high levels of relevant proficiency and prowess in their respective roles (Guardian/Royal Knight) which led to them being chosen for their respective titles. Link as the Princess' Appointed Knight and Legendary Hero Who Wields The Sword That Seals the Darkness, and Jack as the Immortal Spirit of Winter and later, Guardian of Fun Destined to Save the Guardians and Defeat Pitch Black.

Rebirth

A striking resemblance between Jack and BOTW Link is perhaps their theme of "the end becomes the beginning" in which both experience Death After a Great Sacrifice and are Reborn Anew. Both of these fairy boys died protecting someone they cared about, regardless of cost or consequence, and upon being brought to life from the brink of death, they are forever changed as people.

For Jack, this comes in the form of new powers, new domains, and the new experience in being a Spirit. For Link, it's a bit more literal, as he seemingly adopts a much more open, lively, carefree personality in the absence of his former duties, burdens, and responsibilities that (in canon) brings him to resemble Jack Frost better than his former persona as a royal knight.

Loss of Memory

Another striking resemblance between Jack and Link is the circumstances of their rebirth, which came at the cost of their memories and their former identities. Not knowing who they were or what their purpose was, they wandered the land aimlessly in search of meaning, until destiny eventually guides them to their Reason for Existing.

In fact, both of their rebirths also involve being lifted from pools of water

But even though both Jack and Link recover some semblance of their memories and identities Before, it is unclear just how much left remained lost.

Past Lives

Let’s be real here, Pre-Calamity Link is NOTHING like Pre-Spirit Jack. While Pre-Calamity Link is serious, focused, stoic and Silent, Jack has pretty much always been the same person before and after his Rebirth. But, Jack was also a simple peasant boy who Definitely Had No Ambition To Become A Knight. But in this AU, let’s say he did. Let’s say he was determined to follow in his father’s footsteps to become a royal knight. Let’s say he finds the Legendary Weapon That Seals The Darkness, and that seals his fate.

Certainly, he’ll never be as serious and stoic or Silent as Pre-Calamity Link was, no matter how much pressure he’s in. But perhaps, it makes him just a bit more Intense and Guarded.

Lone Wolf But Stronger in a Pack

Obviously we know that Jack Frost flew solo for pretty much his entire life as a spirit, and he gained quite a renown for himself in doing so, and it it s indisputable that while he was Strong On His Own, he was Much Stronger With The Guardians. Despite never working in a team before, teamwork came naturally to Jack, and it only served to amplify his strengths while covering his weaknesses.

Now, what about Link? For the majority of BOTW, Link travels alone, and while he is completely Lethal and Unstoppable as is, similarly to Jack, he only really grows stronger through reconnecting with the Ghosts of his deceased friends, who each lend him their Power and Support in a more literal sense. Once you resolve each quest in the Four Regions of Hyrule, your friends will make the final battle against Calamity Ganon much easier than if you were to head straight there by yourself.

And of course, Link would not have been able to defeat Calamity Ganon at all if it hadn’t been for Princess Zelda, and the reverse is also true. They must work together to Seal Calamity Ganon for the next 10,000 years.

Devoted

Both Link and Jack are deeply dedicated to those they have formed attachments to. If you played BOTW and/or TOTK, you know just how deeply devoted and dutiful Link was to Zelda, willing to let the entire Kingdom of Hyrule fall to keep her safe, choosing to stay with her and help her escape the kingdom (abandoning his Duty, abandoning his Destiny) and just as willing to lay his life down to spare hers.

Jack is similarly dedicated as we see from his interactions and protectiveness of Baby Tooth and Jamie Bennett, and how he charged straight into the eye of the storm of Pitch’s sand vortex to save Sandy. Those who give love to him, he gives love readily back.

Wild

This one is quite self-explanatory, but I will explain anyway!

As the titular Hero of the Wild, Link is every bit a woodsman and outdoor survivalist as his name implies. He is an unstoppable force of nature that can and will survive anything nature throw at him (be it lightning strikes, monsters, or Laser-Blasting-Malice-Possessed Guardians [no, not THOSE Guardians]). Link thrives in the wilderness, just him and the elements, and perhaps the occasional pot lid and soup ladle (if he’s really strapped for weapons, a mop will also do). Really, it speaks to his resourcefulness and resilience, his independence and self-sufficiency. Though perhaps, at the cost of certain things like manners, propriety, and respect for public and/or private property (of course he had to break all those clay pots, what if there was something inside? Of course he had to jump into the garden pond and grab fish with his bare hands, how else is he going to get protein for his seafood meunière? of course—). Much like Jack Frost.

If there was one word to describe the Winter Spirit, it was certainly, and similarly, ‘Wild.’ After all, he is undoubtedly the most unpredictable spirit to become a guardian, and even before then, he had made a name for himself for being quite formidable and intimidatingly ferocious when he wants to be. He does as he pleases with no fear or shame of what others may think. And similarly, this often lands both Blond Fairy Boys a fierce scolding from many people, not that it deters their behaviour in any way shape or form.

They will learn absolutely nothing from these scoldings and will 100% do it again. But stealthier, craftier, perhaps.

Unless, of course, the scolding comes from a Particular Wise and Beautiful Princess. Only then they will consider. And it is only this Wise and Beautiful Princess who is capable of tempering their wildness just enough to be a functioning member of the community.

Fearless

As the Triforce of Courage, it is perhaps a given that its bearer will readily face down any challenge or adversary without hesitation. No matter how big, no matter how impossible, no matter what. Jack and Link are always ready for a fight, for action; their heart pumps for the thrill of adventure and the unknown, new experiences, meeting new people. The two are travelers who prefer to take the scenic—read: deeply unconventional and unsafe—route, taking as many detours as possible. And if they land in trouble, then it’s all the more Fun.

Jack and Link are Fearless in every way one could be. For Link, it is simply in his immortal, undying nature. For Jack, as Fear’s archenemy, he cannot afford to harbor it within him, and that is precisely how he navigated his way through immortality: with Fun and Light and Hope. Diving headfirst from a giant waterfall? Bring it on! Taking on an entire hoard of ferocious monsters alone with nothing but a pot lid and soup ladle? Challenge accepted. Jumping on the backs of Animals You Definitely Shouldn’t Use as Mounts and riding them anyway? Give them five minutes.

Notoriously Good-Looking

To keep it short and sweet, both Link and Jack have been described in their respective media (by various characters) to be notably handsome, and they themselves are aware of this fact and Very Confident About It. They are very comfortable in their own skin (perhaps too comfortable) though their handsomeness does not always shine through, in great part due to their Erratic Behaviour and Strange Fashion Choices (“look, it made perfect sense at the time.”).

Jack-of-all-Trades

Both Jack and Link are undoubtedly masters at their signature weapons (Jack with his Shepherd’s Crook and Link with the Master Sword and Hylian Shield), though Link has a more diverse skill set than Jack as per the ROTG movie. Link excels with any kind of weapon (or even household objects) he can get his hands on: short swords and clubs, two-handed weapons (including but not limited to: great swords, axes, and bats), spears, wands, and arguably his strongest weapon, the bow and arrow, with which he is able to shoot up to five arrows at once in a spread and enter Bullet Time when he is in the air. And he can also do all this on horseback, of course. It makes him an incredibly versatile fighter and well-equipped for survival in the wild.

While Jack is limited to his Shepherd’s Crook in the movie, he does not exclusively wield it as such. In the action scenes of the movie, we see Jack wield his staff to cast magic like a wand, attack with the slicing motion of a sword, the stabbing of a spear, and even the swing of a bat. In the books, 5 years after the movie’s release, William Joyce has also written Jack to be able to shapeshift his staff into a bow and arrow, giving him a more Hunter-like appearance

He is also apparently fluent in squirrel and chipmunk speak. I did not know this.

Something I did in “more than you know” (my collab fic with therentyoupay) was push this ability a bit further to allow Jack to shapeshift his staff into a variety of weapons, not just a bow and arrow, such as an ice sword or axe. We can apply the same idea here, to better reconcile the skillsets of Jack and Link.

But a shared key trait that already exists is that without any weapons (barehanded) Jack and Link cannot fight (unlike their Princesses, who are stronger with their magic as opposed to any physical weapon).

Snowboarding/Shield-Surfing

Fun is an essential component of Jack’s character. It is his CORE, what makes him WHO HE IS. However, it is also an important part of Link’s character, particularly post-Calamity. Aside from frolicking in—read: terrrorizing—the wilderness, campfire-cooking, and completing Korok puzzles, a favorite pastime of Link’s is an activity called shield-surfing, which is exactly what it sounds like: using his shield to sled down hills of grass, deserts, and snowy mountains. And he’s quite good at it too! Canonically, he holds several records in shield-surfing from the snowy peaks of Hebra to the vast Gerudo Desert, and even incorporates it into his fighting.

And who else would be particularly terrific at snowboarding other than Jack Frost himself? It was actually stated in the DVD Featurette for Rise of the Guardians that Jack’s entire concept was inspired by skateboarders, and that they wanted him to glide in the wind with the skill of an Olympic snowboarder (hey anyone wanna make an AU with Olympic Snowboarder Jack?), which we do see him doing with his staff at several points in the movie!

Clearly, this is a perfect parallel. A mirror even. If you will.

Smart Mouth

One of my (and I’m sure many others) favorite things about Jack is his quick-with and sharp tongue. He’s always ready with a sassy remark or a snide comment and I think that’s one of the things that make him so Fun! Now, for a comparison with Link, you’re probably thinking this should be a major difference as Link is well known to be The Silent Protagonist Ever, but as many players of BOTW and TOTK have noticed and accurately pointed out, Link is given dialogue options for the players to choose from when interacting with NPCs, which in itself implies that that is Link speaking and responding to NPCs questions.

I am of the opinion that these are Link’s own words rather than the “player’s” responses being spoken through Link, and the reason I think this is because these options show off some degree of personality rather than remaining neutral to allow players to project onto them, and often times more or less reiterate the same message, just in different words (hinting that IC, Link will ONLY agree or disagree to those things).

some of my favorite examples of Link’s dialogue options:

Making seal puns while renting sand seals:

The one below is exemplary because the only two options are either to flirt shamelessly or ruin her day.

This is also not including the fact Eiji Aonuma (the creator of The Legend of Zelda) himself has said that all Links are “bastards” in their own unique ways and indeed, the persistent inclusion of his jerky and sassy dialogue options across all LOZ games is further evidence of this.

So of course, who better to keep this sassy lost child in check than The Wisest Person in the Land?

Zelda Hyrule, the Triforce of Wisdom is the perfect role for someone like Elsa Arendelle.

There are many parallels between this iteration of Zelda (as opposed to other Zelda’s of the different games) and Elsa.

Wisdom

As the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, all incarnations of Zelda are blessed with superior intelligence and wisdom, traits that are also prevalent in Elsa. The Triforce of Wisdom doesn't JUST impart divine wisdom upon its holder, it also grants the holder untold mystical abilities (see: Elsa's ice powers and ability to create sentient life), and the ability to heal others (see: Elsa thawing Anna and the Fjord). The Triforce of Wisdom leads its holder to make the right decisions, making them wiser than any mortal. Elsa is much the same, though hers is a result of her own temperament and upbringing.

As the Triforce of Wisdom, Zelda is a constant presence of guidance and support for Link in many of her game iterations (including this one), and she has always stood side by side with him to defeat Ganon.

Duty-Bound

Both Elsa and Zelda have momentous weights on their shoulders as the Crown Princesses of their respective kingdoms, and this is a responsibility that both Princess-turned-Queens take very seriously. Though this position brings them no joy—if not, in fact the complete opposite—they are deeply devoted to their cause, their kingdom, their families, and as a result, they continue to strive to excel in it and meet seemingly impossible expectations. They force themselves to fit the mold of this role, even at the cost of who they are as a person and their personal wants or desires.

Hiding their true selves

This is a very large proponent of both Elsa and Zelda's struggle in their respective stories:

Elsa has had to hide her ice powers for the majority of her life. But her ice powers are something that is inextricably a large part of who she is, something she cannot change or be rid of, and yet it is something she was made to never express or show or hone. Instead, she has had to suppress and neglect them to pass as "normal." She had been raised to associate her powers with fear, with danger, with solation. She was made to see them as useless, something to be ashamed of, and something to never be given a second glance.

Zelda is a scholar and a researcher, she is a curious person with a passion for studying the world around her. She wants to learn, to study, to educate, but instead this goal is considered "frivolous" and "unimportant" by her father. It is stamped as a distraction, and blamed as the reason Zelda has yet to awaken her Sealing powers, despite the fact her passion and determination for research was fueled by her shortcomings as The Princess with the Blood of the Goddess. It was her way of contributing to the coalition's preparations against The Calamity, even without her powers.

Additionally both Elsa and Zelda have a mask for who they believe they should be: a regal, elegant, level-headed royal who is mature and Above Silly Games when in reality, they are vivacious young women who would have loved to engage in said Silly Games, and have more love to give than what they were allowed.

Grand Destinies

Another similarity that is shared between Elsa and Zelda are the grand destinies that awaited them, and were expected to fulfill. There are slight divergences in both, but the broad strokes remain the same:

Both royals possess a unique and unstoppable power that drives the narratives of both stories forward

They are both fated to be the Key in preventing a Great Calamity (Zelda was destined to seal away Calamity Ganon, a force of hatred and malice that arose every 10,000 years with her Sealing Powers, and Elsa was destined to become the Bridge between the Spirits and the Humans in the Enchanted Forest as the Fifth Spirit, which allowed her to prevent Arendelle's destruction)

Both their powers are mysterious and unknowable, and its growth and behavior eludes the both of them

Their respective powers brought them great distress (for completely opposite reasons, mind, but we'll get to that) and is a constant source of struggle in their stories.

Loss

Both queens lost their parents at a young age. The absence of their parents caused a deep trauma that affected their ability to regulate or control their powers in some way. Zelda losing her mother so young meant she never got the chance to learn to use her powers. This lack of guidance would later indirectly result in her losing her father due to her not being able to awaken her powers in time.

For Elsa, it is much the same. The lack of guidance in her life only further widened the ridge not only between herself and her sister, but also the wider community. It prevented her from being able to form connections as well as she could have.

Adored

Despite her Shortcomings, Failures, and Insecurities, both Zelda and Elsa are always surrounded by love and people who adore them. These people see them for them, who they are as people as opposed to their powers, their position, and their destinies. These people see how hard she works and appreciate her dedication, and they are always ready to offer comfort and reassurance to assuage their Negative Thoughts. They may not always remember or be aware of this, but they are always the apple of many’s eyes.

Shared Personality Traits

A quick list of similar key personality traits between Zelda and Elsa that make Elsa a great stand-in for Zelda because there is Just So Much

Withdrawn, hesitant, unsure of herself (AT FIRST)

TERRIFIED of the destiny that awaited them (Fulfilling a prophecy, ruling a kingdom and potentially destroying it)

Isolated and made to keep to herself

Studious, intelligent, diligent

Resourceful and determined

So full of fear, yet fearless nonetheless

Awe-inspiring leaders

Well-mannered and conducts herself well (except where Certain Blond Men are involved)

Slow to warm up to people, especially when it comes to Certain Blond Men That Follow Them Around Everywhere

Has a hard time talking about or expressing their feelings until it's All Just Too Much and Entirely Too Late

But deep down are very warm and kind

Patient and understanding, usually. But Certain Blond Men tend to test their limits. (at least, at first)

Differences

Of course, there are also differences that may potentially be Game Breaking, so let's discuss a few of them and how they could be accommodated

The Fear of their Power

Where Elsa feared her power due to its strength and her inability to pacify or control it, Zelda's fear comes from the fact she may not even have the powers she was supposed to have, compounded by the fact that the Kingdom's survival entirely hinges on Zelda mastering her powers and using it.

Where Elsa fears using her powers, Zelda fears not being able to use hers in time. Though the fear itself is a common thread, the cause is very much opposite and paramount to the driving force between their respective stories.

Failure

A big component of Zelda's story that Elsa lacks in hers. When Elsa fails or makes a mistake, she is able to undo all the damage she caused with minimal consequences to herself and the wider environment (resurrects Anna, thaws the fjord, discovers the secrets of her family's past, reconnects the spirits to humans, saves Arendelle from a tidal wave).

When Zelda fails, the consequences are permanent and lasting. Failing to awaken her powers in time—despite spending hours for multiple days on end praying before the Goddess statues for guidance in nothing but ceremonial robes, and occasionally in freezing cold waters until she collapsed—she was unable to stop the destruction of her kingdom, the deaths of her friends and family (who went to battle for her, on her behalf), and even (for a time) the person she loved, who refused to leave her side until the bitter end. Zelda would never see her friends and father again, her champion had lost a majority of his memories (save for the ones he had of her) and may never be the person she once knew, and the Kingdom of Hyrule as it was will never return. The damage has been done, and she can only pick up the pieces of What Remained and start anew.

This fear and burden of failure is a pervasive theme in Zelda's story. She is perceived as a failure by her own father, and even the wider kingdom court due to her inability to awaken and wield the power that had been passed down from generation to generation. This is an aspect lacking in Elsa's story, who was the first in her name to wield ANY sort of magical ability.

Resentment

Due to her inability to awaken her powers, Zelda developed a resentment towards Link, who had already found and been chosen by the Master Sword and stepped into his Destiny as The Hero Who Wields The Sword That Seals The Darkness. She saw his accomplishments, his skill and readiness as a slight against her own shortcomings, and the presence of the legendary sword on his back served as a constant reminder of her failures. She projected her insecurities onto him, believing that he too thought she was a failure, that he looked down on her or was disappointed in Who She Was despite her supposedly being the Princess With The Blood Of The Goddess even though he adored her from the start, since the first time they met, and it only furthered their divide. At least, In The Beginning.

unfortunately, we live in a reality where Jack and Elsa have never met in any official media, and so, we cannot say if Elsa and Jack would absolutely react in a similar way to each other under the same circumstances, but this gives us plenty of room to work with!

Reconciliation

As this is a BOTW AU for Jelsa first and foremost, we will be applying aspects of Zelda's story into Elsa's to blend her better in the world, and if you've read my collaborative Jelsa project with Kris (more than you know) you may see that some of these aspects have already been implemented and work very well to create a compelling story.

Elsa, instead of struggling with Too Much Power she Fears and Cannot Control, is unable to summon them from inside of her, despite the Kingdom's safety entirely hinging on her mastery of it. This fills her with great distress and self-loathing, causing her to doubt herself and her own self-worth in relation to her powers (or lack thereof) in a similar way to her original portrayal, just for differing reasons, and she finds herself projecting these feelings onto Jack due to the pressure and stress of it all.

However, they do reconcile. She learns the error of her ways, apologizes for her mistake, and they start over with a clean slate. Finally, they begin to develop a bond, growing closer than they thought they would.

And of course, it wouldn't be BOTW without devastation and great loss, and so Elsa (like Zelda did IC), was unable to save her kingdom from The Great Calamity, losing everyone she cared about in the process. Including her beloved sister Anna.

And on the verge of losing Jack too, her desire to protect him—her Love—finally awakens the dormant power inside of her. To save his life, she places him in the Shrine of Resurrection while she goes to face the calamity alone… and would go on to contain it for the next 100 years.

However, she continues to hold on to hope that The Chosen Hero, her Appointed Knight, will Rise again one day, and finish what they started.

#Calli is at it again #breath of the wild #rise of the guardians #frozen #jelsa #crossover #And yes more to come #the legend of zelda

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mochinomnoms · 6 months

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What would happen if both Yuu and Riddle “protect” eachother from their pseudo siblings potencial eel mate? Because we already see Riddle mother hening Yuu so if Yuu ever explicitly states how uncomfortable they feel around Jade I’m pretty sure Riddle would not hesitate helping Yuu getting out of situations with Jade or like being the third wheel in their project group (with Jade and Yev). And I feel that Yuu would feel the same if Riddle feels a similar way to Floyd cause personally if someone was making my presh baby sibling uncomfortable (or annoying them) I would not hesitate to put the fear of god into them/gremlin my way to cockblocking them.

But then again Jade and Floyd seem like they already made up their minds that Yuu/Riddle are already their mate, but how far will they go to go against their shrimp/goldfish in law?

I just feel like this has hijink potencial, like Jade would try to talk to Yuu and Riddle pops out of no where or Floyd tries to take Riddle away then Yuu comes sliding out of no where grabs Riddle then runs away (I personally headcannon that out of the sibling relationship that Yuu is just more of a gremlin than Riddle always having a bit of a clown flair to their actions whether it’s their intention or not (totally not projecting) while Riddle is like that reasonable older sibling where antics just happen around them)

Sorry for the long post this has just been rotting in my brain for a while. -🧀anon

BRO YES

I was intending on writing these sorts of interactions between them, but since I added the titles the flow of the story has changed a bit so I'm not sure if it will fit into the main fic.

But yes, once it's been established with the two that both of the twins are interested in them, and that they want to avoid them at all costs (no emotional health with these two lads), they are making a game plan.

Riddle is very prim and proper, so he's appalled at the thoughts Jade is having about Yuu (nevermind that these sorts of things are pretty normal for most people) and going out of his way to put space between the two. Jade comes up to whisper in their ear? Riddle is loudly asking, “Oh Jade, did you have something to say? Why don't you share it with me and Yev?” Lunchtime has been monopolized by Riddle and the rest of Heartslabyul, though some of the random students are confused as to why Riddle has insisted that they sit with Ramshackle.

Yuu on the other hand take it upon themselves to interrupt Floyd mid-chase with Riddle and asking him questions about Jade. Things they know he'll report back to Jade, but subtle enough that you couldn't take them at face value. “Hey Floyd! Question: what sort of things does Jade like? No reason, I'm just making sure I have gifts for your guys' birthday!” If Riddle is in at club practice? You're there and “talking” his ear off, interrupting Floyd's quips until he gets so frustrated that he leaves.

If they try to give either one of you gifts? “Oh, thank you, I think Riddle/Yuu will like this! I'll share it with him/them!”

Study dates? “Oh, let me join you too! Let's make it a group actually, I'll bring my dorm members.”

It becomes such a reoccurring thing, seeing Yuu and Riddle together, that rumors start going around that the two are actually dating. The twins are a mix of devastated, annoyed, and thrilled at the hilarity of it all.

Shrimpy doesn't want Floyd to mess with his Goldfiishie? Fine, let's have some fun, you said you wanted to go to the store? Let's go, and oh look there's Jade as well! Oh, and look at the time, Floyd has to go work his shift at the lounge (since when has he cared), have fun with your date with Jade! :D

Riddle is very protective of Jade's Pearl? That's fine, Yuu can stay with Yev then while he and Riddle go to the gardens to get some ingredients. And if Jade happens to disappear, Floyd in his place, well then it's just a coincidence! Jade just remembered that they also needed to buy some herbs from Sam's, he didn't mean to leave Riddle. :''''(

Morays may be cowards, but they're also opportunistic predators. They'll find ways to get around Riddle and Yuu's shenanigans. After all, if the two reeeally didn't feel the same way as them, they surely they would've said something to their respective eel. Maybe they like the attention~

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd x riddle #ptm #🧀 anon

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treasure444 · 7 months

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Title: I'm so in love with you. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader WC: ~3.7K Content Warnings: SMUT (Unprotected, Simon is a biiiit of a bottom, Simon likes being bit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, feels, Reader gets injured, angst but it does have a good/happy ending. I know I just posted a Simon Riley fic, but the brain rot DO be brain rotting. My current hyperfixation. I have lots of other stories half-written or fleshed out for all the characters I write for, and I am getting to them, I promise!!

Wonderfully beta'd by the ever amazing @universitypenguin - if you have not read anything Alice has posted, please do so! The Princess and The Lawyer is AMAZING!!

Requests are open, feel free to submit, and to those who already have, I promise I am working on them!!

It was moments like these that you genuinely dreaded, sometimes wishing that you had chosen something different. Everyone, even now, always questioned why this was the career chosen. You had never been able to fully answer, always giving a vague, ‘I’m in it for the same reasons everyone else is.’ Never truly knew why, what pulled you here.

The satisfaction when you had won was unlike any other, but so were the nightmares. The constant replay of the field, the battles, the close calls that could have ended up much worse. It was never about you, no, rather your teammates. The close calls they faced, that were your fault. If you had been a few seconds quicker, or had just slowed down and aimed properly, you could’ve avoided these moments.

That’s where you currently found yourself, in a meeting with Captain Price, and Lieutenant Riley. Both very terrifying men. At least, Price was trying to make it easier on you, giving soft smiles, and ‘Ghost, relax. Everyone makes mistakes.’

A bite of ‘doesn’t matter, they should be able to conduct themselves properly.’ Was fired back. It was no secret the Lieutenant had a distaste for you. Maybe because you were ‘reckless’ as he had described you multiple times. Perhaps it was because at the end of the day he ended up having to save you more than once. Soap had attempted to calm your nerves one day, explaining ‘he gets like this with everyone. ‘S not just you.’

You saw the way he acted upon passing. With other soldiers, it was a very slight almost imperceptible nod of his head, but for you the ever-present scowl on his face seemed to deepen. No matter what you had tried, you could never get that recognition that you so desperately wanted.

“Captain,” you said, gaining his attention, “W-While I appreciate the help, he’s not wrong. I-I don’t agree with the way he’s making his points, but I should’ve been paying more attention. Gaz could’ve been seriously hurt i—“

“He could’ve been killed! Because of you!” Ghost’s voice boomed across the Captain’s office. You jumped in your seat.

“You’re absolutely right,” you said looking at Ghost, “and I am sorry.”

He grunted in response, before stalking out of the room.

“Ignore him, he’s stressed out over the next mission.”

You shook your head, “He’s right. Gaz could’ve died because of my mistake.” The guilt sat stationary in your chest.

Price offered a sympathetic smile, “Ghost’s has also had some close calls. That is very similar to the potential today. We all have had some pretty close calls. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You nodded, and rose from the chair on a shaky breath, “thank you.”

Price nodded, “You’re welcome. There’s a debriefing in an hour.” He reminded.

You nodded and walked out to get ready for the meeting.

Three hours later you had found yourself in the middle of the battlefield. According to Price, it should’ve been an ‘easy’ mission. Gather the intel and get out, you hadn’t planned for the ambush. You had been almost positive you were safe, hidden behind a barrel, Ghost beside you. That was until you caught sight of the enemy behind you.

You caught them raising their gun, aiming for the lieutenant. Soap screamed for him, you pushed him clean out of the way before hearing two gunshots ring out. One of which had pierced the enemy, knocking him down instantly. The other lodged itself into your thigh. You didn’t quite register the shot at first. Not until Soap was by your side.

“Just go. Scan the perimeter, make sure there’s no more, make sure Gaz has the intel.” You spoke before he even had a chance to say anything to you. Soap ran off, you sat yourself down, still hiding behind the barrel. Your hand weakly pressing against the wound in your thigh.

You leaned your head back against the barrel, closing your eyes as your hand was replaced by Ghost’s gloved appendage. You whined as he put more pressure than you had been. “I know, I know. Stay with me.”

You giggled softly, “ironic, isn’t it?” Your head rolled to the side. “This time it wasn’t you saving me.”

You watched Ghost’s eyes pass between your face and your leg repeatedly. His voice became distorted as he spoke into the walkie on his shoulder, more than likely explaining the situation to Price, and Gaz. Your eyelids grew heavy, so you opted to keep them closed.

You could hear the concern in Ghost’s voice, but you could no longer hear the words. Could still feel the gloved hand pushing at your skin, but no longer the pain. You slowly allowed yourself to fall into the unconsciousness pulling at you.

You came to, to the sounds of beeping and hushed voices. Confused, you opened your eyes, “Jesus.” You squinted, looking around. You found Price, and Ghost by your bedside.

“Hey. How do you feel?” Price spoke, keeping his voice soft.

“What happened?” Your voice came out weak. Ghost handed you a small paper cup with a straw. Noting he didn’t have the gloves on anymore.

“Drink this. Small Sips. ” He spoke. You took it, taking a small sip as he instructed.

“You were shot.” Price spoke up again, and everything came back to you, “You were lucky. The bullet missed the femoral artery. Small fracture, you’re off for the next 8 to 12 weeks.”

“8 to 12 weeks?” Your eyes widened, “No, Price there has to be a mistake! Surely it won’t take that long!” You handed the cup back to Ghost.

“That’s what the doctor has said, and that’s what we’re going by.” Price told you before his phone went off, and he walked out to take the call.

You groaned, throwing your head back into the pillows. Ghost chuckled before handing you the cup again, “I bet you’re really regretting taking that bullet for me now huh?”

You looked over at him, “not at all,” you smiled, “but I have to ask, where’d the gloves go?”

You heard, more than saw, the audible gulp he took. “Had to take them off.”

You nodded like you understood the implication of what he was saying. Which you did. You remembered him pressing his hands down against the wound trying to get the blood to clot. Saw how your blood stained the white part of the skeleton fabric.

When you looked back up at him, you could see the fear. For once you saw your strong-willed, cold-hearted lieutenant, genuinely scared. For you. Like he was reliving what happened. Like he couldn’t believe you were still here.

The word lucky rattled around in your brain. Echoing Price’s infliction. You were incredibly lucky, though you weren’t sure you’d admit it out loud. Something had shifted. You weren’t able to pinpoint exactly what, but something in the air of your hospital room felt different.

The aftermath of a mission always did funky things to you. Things you could never fully understand. Adding to that, the fact that you had been out of commission for the last 10 weeks. You had been a little rusty. Which was how you found yourself being dragged out to Ghost’s office. You were sure that he was mad, that he was going to berate you when he called you to his office. However, he led you past his office, and into his personal quarters. “You’re always such a problem.” He said as he closed the door behind you.

“I didn’t see it!” You watched him.

“I’m not saying anything.” He defended.

“You are! You’re saying that I’m a problem.”

“Because you are. I consistently am having to step in and save your ass because you’re so reckless.”

“You can’t seriously sit there and get caught up in the few times you’ve saved me! Are you serious?! This is a fucking joke. You’re a fucking joke.” Your voice raised, anger shooting through your body.

Ghost glared at you. “I’M the joke?! You must really think highly of yourself!”

“Highl— What?! This is. No. No! I’m leaving. I will not allow you to sit here and treat me like this.” You stomped towards the door. You didn’t make it very far, before Ghost’s hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Do you care so little for your own life?” He spun you around to face him.

”What?”

“Honestly, you’re reckless on the field, you almost stepped on a damn landmine today!! You took a bullet for me!”

“I told you, I didn’t see it! I’m not reckless, and who knows what would have happened if I had let the bullet hit you! You could’ve died! I wasn’t willing to watch anything happen to you, when I could’ve helped!”

“Why?!”

“Because I care about you! Because the thought of you not being here hurts me more than I want to admit! Because the thought of not hearing your fucking voice every day, scares me!” You shouted, feeling the tears come to the surface of your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of him.

The shock of your words had Ghost releasing his grip on you, if only slightly. You shook your head. “Forget it.” you sniffled and opened the door walking further down the hallway. Ghost snapped to his senses, and called you, but you were out of his sight.

You had asked Price for some extra time. “A few more weeks, I want to make sure that I’m ready to be on the field again.” Was what you had told him, when in reality, you wanted to prolong your solitude. You hadn’t spoken to Ghost since your outburst, but he seemed content in letting it happen. Leaving you alone.

Sure, you had run into each other a few times, damn near impossible not to, but never spoken to each other. In the time that you hadn’t been on missions, you spent it in your room reading, or in the gym trying to strengthen yourself.

The boys had come back from another successful mission, elated but bruised. You smiled and hugged each of them with the exception of Ghost. You merely nodded at him, he stood stoic as ever.

Soap threw his arm around you before leading you inside, with everyone following, “You’ll have to come with us on the next one. It’ll be just like old times!” He sang.

You giggled, “yeah, maybe. We’ll see how I’m feeling.”

“Well, at least come out to drink with us tonight! We’re heading to Bar Code.” Soap shook your shoulders lightly. He was always in a good mood after a successful mission.

You nodded, “Sure.”

That was how you found yourself in civilian clothing, sitting across from Price. Just shooting the shit with the boys reminded you of old times, better times. Price called your name, “you’ve been training. A lot harder than we’ve seen you before.”

You smiled, knowing it was a compliment of the highest form, “Thank you, sir. I just want to make sure that I’m ready to be back in the field.”

“So, I can count on you for the next one then?”

Your smile widened, as you nodded, and Soap and Gaz whooped and cheered. “Well!” Gaz was the one to throw his arm around you this time, “I say that’s cause for celebrations! I’ll go get more drinks.”

He moved to stand, but you put your hand on top of his on your shoulder, “let me.” You giggled as he withdrew and stood, walking over to the bar.

Ordering what you knew everyone liked, you leant against the bar as you waited for the drinks. A slimy looking man slid next to you, “what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Oh,” you said quietly, moving away slightly, “I’m not alone. Here with some friends.” Of course Ghost had caught sight of him before he got close to you.

The man followed you, before a hand reached out to grip your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned away. “C’mon. Don’t be like that. I bet they won’t even notice if you’re gone.” You could smell the alcohol on him before he even opened his mouth.

You kept pushing at his chest, getting more alarmed by the moment, “I-I’m flattered, but not interested,” you looked around for someone, anyone to help you, but found no one. “I really should get back to my friends.”

In an instant, Ghost was by your side. Unwrapping the stranger's hand from you before pulling you behind him. “You okay?” He looked over his shoulder at you.

You nodded, and walked to the table silently. From what you saw the unknown man backed down pretty quickly, given Ghost was still in his tac gear, minus the vest.

Ghost had come back with the drinks and set them down. Not another word was said between you and him for the rest of the night.

Getting back to the base, everyone went their separate ways. Everyone except Ghost who pulled you with him into an empty barracks room. It was a standard room, with a bed in the back corner, small desk and lamp on the right side, and an armoire on the left. “Ghost.. What do–”

“Simon.” He cut you off.

You tilted your head, confused. “Call me Simon. Please.”

“Okay… Simon. Is there something you need?”

His eyes fluttered shut as you said his name. “I think a conversation is needed.”

“Conversation about what?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“What did you mean?” His eyes opened, solely focusing on your face, your reaction to him. “You said you care about me. But there’s so many things that could mean.”

You took a deep breath in, and dropped your arms. “I’m exhausted. We can talk about this later.” You turned for the door.

Simon muttered your name, “You and I both know if you walk out of here, this conversation won’t ever happen.” His voice stopped you from moving any further. “Please.” His voice softened to a whisper.

“You’re a big boy, Simon. I’m sure you can figure it out. Given the context.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Why? So you can embarrass me some more? To make me relive that specific part of the conversation for days? I already have. I shouldn’t have said anything, it was vastly inappropriate.”

Simon shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Tell me. Please.”

A shiver flew down your spine. “You make it sound so easy. It won’t fix anything.”

Simon stayed quiet behind you. He was close enough at this point to feel the body heat he gave off. You sighed, defeated. “I care about you.” You whisper.

“And what does that mean?” Simon whispered back.

You closed your eyes, staying quiet. This time when he said your name, he coated it in adoration, in awe. Pressing his body even closer, you caved.

“I’m into you.” You felt his forehead come to rest on your shoulder.

“Again.” He commanded, softly as his arm wrapped around your waist.

You smiled, biting your lip, “I like you.”

Simon pulled you back so you were fully flush against him. “Again.”

“I have feelings for you.”

His grip tightened, hand moving to your hip as he spun you to face him. “Once more.” He watched you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I am so in love with you it hurts sometimes.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, and you nodded as his face drew closer.

“Yeah” you whispered moments before he pushed his mask up just past his nose, and kissed you.

Fuck, he was good. He knew how to hook you in, one hand resting on the hinge of your jaw, and the other on your waist. Pulling you in, while simultaneously keeping you where he wanted you.

You couldn’t resist kissing back, placing your hands firmly on his chest. You could feel the low rumble he let out. Pulling away for a second, Simon dragged his thumb down the center of your lips. Your breathing was rapid, your mind felt like it was in the clouds.

Without thinking, you leaned back in to capture his lips this time. His hands drifted down your body, before tapping the backs of your thighs. You shook your head only slightly to still keep your lips attached to his.

He grunted into your mouth, before crouching slightly, and lifting you into his arms. You gasped before breaking apart, “Simon, put me down.”

You saw his lips pull up into a smirk, “gladly” you watched his mouth form the word. He walked over, tightening his grip only moments before dropping you against the mattress.

You squealed softly, before this mountain of a man was sprawled out on top of you, reattaching his lips to any skin he could find. Kissing down your face, to your neck. Hands pawing at your body, lifting your shirt to caress your skin. You whined, before sitting up only enough to pull your shirt off.

“Atta girl.” Simon praised before reattaching his mouth to yours. His hands roaming your body, gently groping along his way as he finds the buttons on your jeans and slides them along with your panties off in one motion.

You truly don’t know what came over you, the need to have Simon under you, succumbing to whatever you wanted, was overwhelming.

So that was exactly what you decided to do, as you heaved your body so you had him pinned beneath you. The surprise of it alone had him pulling away from you. Hands coming to rest on your thighs.

You made a show of removing your bra, the accompanying groan from him as you removed the last article of clothing was satisfying. You carefully slid down his body, removing articles of clothing as you went, until he was completely naked, and completely at your mercy. You looked down at him, your lip between your teeth.

“Not so big and bad now are you?” You spoke softly, lining Simon’s leaking cock with your entrance, not able to stand another moment of the teasing.

“Don’t be a fucking tease, baby.” Simon gritted out.

“Me? Never” You spoke, sliding him inside until you were flush with his hips. Gasping, as he gently bucked up into you.

The grunt Simon let out had you clenching around him. His hands clasped around your hips, expletives being whispered into the air around you two.

You brought yourself up just enough for him to slide out enough, before dropping yourself back down. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” Simon whined.

The sound alone had you falling forward, hands coming up to catch yourself on his chest. You let out a moan, as his hands roamed your body. “C’mon. Need me to take the lead?” He teased.

You bit your lip as you straightened yourself out, and started bouncing on his cock. Simon’s head rolled back further into the pillow. Small chants of yes left his mouth. You glanced down at him, completely at your mercy, and you let out a borderline pornographic moan.

Simon’s neck had been on full display, the veins distended, almost inviting. He was clenching his teeth, so as to keep all those little sounds in. Eventually, the intrusive thought won and you leant forward. Lips and teeth sucking a bright red hickey into his neck. “Oh, Fuck.” Simon mewled.

Laving your tongue over the new mark, you felt a swell of pride. “Can’t take it?” You whispered into his ear, gently biting down on his earlobe. Simon let out a high pitched whine. “Who knew Simon Riley liked being bitten huh?”

His hands settled back on your hips, “please” he grunted.

You cooed, straightening and planting your hands on his chest once again, as you worked yourself against his cock. “Awwww. D’you wanna cum?”

Increasing your speed, you could feel the stutter in his breath under your hands. One of his hands running up your back, to cup the back of your neck, pulling you down.

Capturing your lips, he kissed any and all smart comments, and thoughts out of your head. Simon pulled away from you enough to let out a long, drawn out moan, as your hips stuttered, and you felt the warmth of his cum flooding you.

You gasped, not expecting it so quickly. The pure, unadulterated power you felt in this moment was enormous. You just made big, bad, cold-hearted Simon Riley cum before you.

Simon’s hands fell to your thighs, gently running his fingers over where the bullet had entered, “shit.” breathing labored, unable to think.

You looked down at him, breathing picking up, eyes wide. “One more.” You surprised even yourself. “Give me one more. Si, just one more.” You spoke, grinding your hips against his.

He grunted your name, “I can’t.”

“Yes, yes you can. Gimme one more. You’re such a good boy, Si. You can gimme one more, yeah?” You whined, resuming bouncing on his cock once more.

Simon whimpered, “Please.”

“Yeah, there it is. Look at you. Letting me use you like this. Fuck. So good for me, yeah?”

You watched Simon’s eyes roll back in his head, mouth open just slightly, allowing all the little noises loose. The little moans, hiccups, and half whines. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t getting to you.

“You’re so hot like this. Can’t shut you up, can I?” You spoke, hips faltering.

Soft chants of please left Simon’s pretty pink lips, head rolling from side to side. He was a sight. “Gonna cum again for me, Si?” You taunted him.

Simon hiccuped, and nodded furiously. His entire body tensed, letting out an absolute wrecked moan, you once again felt the warmth of his seed, which only triggered your own orgasm this time.

Head thrown back, grinding your hips before slowing to a complete stop. Slowly you lifted yourself on your knees and climbed off him. Simon chuckled as you collapsed beside him.

“That definitely was not expected.” You wheezed out, attempting to catch your breath.

“What part?” Simon smirked, pulling his mask back down.

“All of it.” You yawned, and curled into his side.

“We can dissect it in the morning, get some rest.” Simon ran his hand along your back gently, and you fell asleep in no time.

#reader insert #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon 'ghost' riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley smut #ghost cod

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misscherrys-world · 2 months

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A/N: Hey it’s been a while since I wrote something. So here’s the deal, I had a dream. I lived in Stars Hallow and Jess Mariano asked me out on a date, we went to watch a movie, took a ride in his car, and ended up kissing. He was the sweetest boy ever..

So I’m going to write a fic about this dream bc I didn’t want it to end tbh. It’s going to be pure fluff

Jess Mariano x fem! Reader.

A/n: Jess and Reader are 18 years old, it happened after he broke up with rory, and he didn’t leave stars hallow. It was my dream so no buts. It is short but this was it. Enjoy!

It was a quiet summer night, miss Patty just finished her classes and closing up as I passed by, “hello miss Patty!” “Oh hello darling, have a good night sweetheart!” She said cheerfully “back to you miss Patty.” I said as cheerful as she. Well it’s not my natural self to be this friendly, but today is something special, Jess, Luke’s nephew, asked me out as he served me breakfast at the diner this morning. I know about his history with Rory, she’s a sweet girl, we attended the same school until she transferred to Chilton. But we weren’t close enough for me to reject the date. Like we knew each other me and Rory, talked occasionally but we weren’t friends.

So here I am on my way to Luke’s diner, now don’t get me wrong the boy must pick up the girl I know, but I was already hungry I needed at least some coffee.

As I walked in I caught Luke’s attention, “Y/n! Hey”, “Hey Luke, can I have some coffee to go please” as he poured me a cup of coffee, Jess was making his way down the stairs, I caught him by surprise and he looked cute tbh. “Am I late?” He looked at the diner’s clock then to his watch to see if his watch was accurate, “Oh no I came early to get some coffee.” I said with a chuckle “You could have just called and I would get you what you want while picking you up” he replied as he kissed my cheek and went our way to the movies.

“I am telling you, that movie sucked” after watching the worst movie in history I said to Jess as we make our way out to his car, “And the plot twist? Kirk’s dreams are way more interesting than this idiot who wrote this” Jess replied sarcastically as I laughed at his expression. “So y/n, what are we doing next then?” “I don’t know but I like this summer breeze, can we go on ride with no specific destination?” He started the car and pulled out the driveway “my favorite kind of date.” He said facing me with his sweet crooked smile.

After a while, I was really enjoying the ride, blasting our favorite music, it happened we shared the same music taste, singing along some songs, laughing and talking about everything that we know. As we drove by the lake he cracked a question “do you have a curfew at home?” “Yeah, 11 pm max” he nodded his head as he stopped by the lake near the trees “come on I want to show you something” as we stepped out of the car he took my hand and lead me to his favorite spot at the lake, the summer breeze was really good it was a very nice night.

We sat down by the lake as he told me this was the spot Luke threw him into the water and how it was his favorite memory with Luke. “You know, Luke and you are very similar” “there’s no way” I continued “you both are really stubborn, but have a soft heart, I think it goes within the Danes” he chuckled softly as he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear so he can get a better look at my face, his eyes went sleepy and soft, never breaking the eye contact, he leaned over and stopped few centimeters from connecting our lips together, “I really like you, y/n” “I like you a lot too, Jess” as I closed my eyes I felt his soft lips pressing against my lips, his hands placed softly on my hips keeping me pressed against him with no pressure. He deepened the kiss and now one of his hands is on the back of my neck, titling his head a little to deepen the kiss even more. As soon as we went out of breath we broke the kiss.

I haven’t noticed my hands were missing his hair “you have really soft hair, Mariano” he smiled as he leaned again to kiss me but this time it was a quick soft kiss on my lips then my cheek and then my forehead and my eye, “let’s get you home before I get you in trouble”, “yeah let’s go”. It was already 10:50 pm and the ride to my home was at least 20 minutes ride, “I really had a good time, Jess” he looked at me and said “same time next week?” I said yes as he pulled over to my house driveway, he stepped out the car with me to say hi to my parents and apologized for making me late as it had passed my curfew, we wished each other a good night.

I have to say, it was the best date I’ve ever been to. I can’t wait till tomorrow to see him at breakfast again.

#misscherrysworld #gilmore girls #jess mariano #luke danes #rory gilmore #milo ventimiglia #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano fanfic

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11queensupreme11 · 1 month

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7th love interest - cú chulainn!

yep so everyone who voted for cu chulainn in the previous poll (which was surprisingly a majority of you) got it right!

for those who don't know, cu chulainn is a character from the ror spinoff: apocalypse of the gods, and he is a demigod. like, an actual 50% human and 50% god.

yeah so that means there are now 2 types of demigods in the ror verse: a human with the strength of a god (gained via drinking ambrosa aka, zeus' blood; ex: heracles before ascension) and now the actual half-blood that we're familiar with

BECAUSE I ALREADY STATED IN ARSENIC BLUES THAT BIOLOGICAL HALF-GOD AND HALF-HUMANS DON'T EXIST AND ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO CREATE, CU CHULAINN WILL BE LIKE PRE-ASCENSION HERACLES: a human with the strength of a god BUT he got this through drinking lugh's blood and was also blessed by him (hence why he will have some of lugh's powers too)

so..... why cu chulainn? well, he actually has a lot of similarities with percy:

both are mortal children of a god. percy being the biological daughter of poseidon and cu chulainn being the adopted son of lugh (for my fic at least)

both have doggies 🥺🥺🥺

both are heroes/warriors. 'hero' more for percy, and 'warrior' more for cu chulainn (i'll explain this later)

both started young. cu chulainn actually started at age fucking seven 💀 and twelve years old for percy

both have ungodly amounts of rizz. percy's getting bitches left and right in BOTH pjo universe and ror universe, and cu chulainn's a fucking whore. no fr, in a lot of his lore, men hated his ass cuz they feared he may "steal their wives and ruin their daughters". he was balls deep in everyone 💀

both have hilarious beef with war gods 😭 ares for percy and morrigan for cu chulainn (fun fact: morrigan actually tried to rizz him once but he rejected her and she's hated his ass since 💀)

both have A LOT of enemies 💀 percy's pissed off like half the greek pantheon in the pjo verse and is on every monster's hit list and cu chulainn literally got killed because the sons of the people he killed wanted to get his ass for revenge 💀

both are really really good at killing their enemies 😂 percy's kill mostly consists of monsters tho and maybe some enemy demigods whereas cu chulainn pretty much killed hundreds of people in táin bó cúailnge in less than five minutes cuz he went into goblin mode 💀💀💀 (and then he went on to terrorize the entirety of ireland)

HOWEVER!!!!! there are also some MAJOR differences between them that i can't wait to explore.

cu chulainn was born into royalty. his mother was a princess and the sister of the king. then there's broke ass percy 😭

cu chulainn is an arrogant asshole in the myths and in the manga and percy's an actual sweetie pie who was raised well by her mom 🥺

cu chulainn's basically the heracles of ireland, and by that, i mean he was a huge fucking piece of shit 💀💀💀 yeah, he's basically as much of a jerk as pjo!heracles 💀

you know how in greek myths, there's tons of heroes that we learn about (theseus, odysseus, hercules, etc), but then you read the non-sugar coated version of their stories and realize "omg these are horrible ppl"???? yeah that's the same with cu chulainn 💀 back in ancient times, they pretty much called anyone who can kick ass a "hero", which is very different from our modern definition where we think of good people who go around saving lives. cu chulainn was more of a warrior than a hero tbh 💀

also, the dude was a rapist too (so he's already fitting in well with the yanderes yaaaaay 🤗)

i'm gonna have so much fun writing about him and percy lmaooo they share so many similarities, but at the same time are so wildly different

anyway, cu chulainn will show up in ACT TWO, not in act one!!!

and for those curious to learn more, here are some links:

for the list of stories of the ulster cycle (some don't show up, so i suggest googling the title to read it else where)

someone's analysis of the sexism and misogyny in these stories with excerpts to back up the claims. they also go into detail about how much of a shitty person he was lol

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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cafeinthemoon · 4 months

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It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road

Oh, how far you are from home”

(Enya, May it Be)

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well.

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them.

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work.

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject.

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here.

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family.

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him.

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now?

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight.

You frowned.

Next big step? What is he talking about?…

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it.

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week.

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man.

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown.

– Don’t you have anything to say about this?

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response.

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you?

Your father clenched his jaw.

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but…

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men?

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you.

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process.

You sighed.

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly?

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more!

You scoffed.

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father?

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that.

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it.

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter.

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word.

***

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore?

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before?

You sighed at the thought.

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this.

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back.

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right?

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear.

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage.

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence.

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road.

***

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract.

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this.

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband.

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding.

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men.

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into…

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper.

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back.

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side.

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so.

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it.

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone.

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now.

***

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment.

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time.

— Why are you doing this?

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer.

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent.

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there.

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor.

You were just waiting for the travel to end.

Chapter 2

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #kny rengoku #shinjuro rengoku #rengoku shinjuro #shinjuro x reader #shinjuro rengoku x reader #rengoku shinjuro x reader

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soft-persephone · 3 months

Text

I Will Be Your End pt. 1

Vampire!Fontaine x Vampire!Black!Reader x Vampire!Abel Morales // John Boyega x Black!Reader x Oscar Isaac

Explicit // WC: 9.5k // warnings: blood, descriptions of corpses, mild body mutilation, death, violence, mild abuse, horror, smut // masterlist // Part 2 //

music: Good People / by Majid Jordan

AN: Biggest shoutout to @megamindsecretlair her Vampire Tyrone fics have required my brain chemistry and changed my life! She is the biggest inspiration behind this fic so if you even slightly enjoy this one, go check out theirs! It’s truly beautiful!

Apparently it’s too long to make into one fic, so I will wait until next week to post pt2

I hope you enjoy!!

Where the fuck she at?”

Fontaine threw a chair and Yo-yo ducked, it smattered into pieces upon impact. Not satisfied, he flipped the coffee table and attempted to kick a hole in the couch, but she stopped that shit quick.

“Taine, Nock it the fuck off! I know you mad and all, but we still live here, and we ain’t got nowhere else to go!”

His breaths were rabid and heavy. His eyes glowing hard.

“Where. The fuck. Is. She?” He huffed.

Yo-yo licked her lips.

“It’s bad, real bad. You need to get to her fast,” he opened his mouth, probably to ask her the same fucking question again, but she stopped him with a raised hand, daring him to say something, “I tracked her like you told me, but she’s smart.. real smart.”

“That ain’t nothing we don’t already know. Yo-—“

“—interrupt me one more time.”

He sighed, shaking his head before sitting.

Good, God… finally.

“So boom!” She smacked her fist unity the palm of her other hand. “She only stops to feed in small towns, usually a racist or someone who tried to put his hands on her or other woman, all untraceable to the cops n’ shit.”

His face goes blank. The attitude he once had gone. She cohdi feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He’s putting the pieces together.

“She’s in New York.” Her lips formed into a line, waiting for his response.

“How many body’s?”

“It’s more than 50.”

Fuck.

Tyrone knew she’d be pissed with him for the first few years, but not like this.

He didn’t think she’d actually run away from him.

He looked at the antique book he brought you.

What is was about, he didn’t have fucking clue. This was a book published before summaries on the back were a thing. It was so old it barely had a title.

You loved reading, like Yo-yo, and history and shit.

It was the perfect gift.

But now.. he might not even get the chance to give it to you.

“Call Slick.”

“Are you alright little one?” A voice from somewhere asked you.

It was so rich. He kept talking and talking.

You hummed.

He should talk more.

You could barely feel the blood covering your body. The fresh dark flood of it was dripping from your mouth. Falling down a similar path as the last stickier dried up drops.

You looked up and saw his glowing eyes.

They were golden, but not like the harsh metallic gold that matched Fintaine’s grills. They were an old gold like the moon. An old golden hued moon that connected every ancient moment to the present. Witnessing the tragedy that had befallen what used to be her life that had now become the eternal damnation she didn’t deserve…. That she didn’t ask for.

You might hate Fontaine and what he did to you, but you weren’t stupid.

Vampires don’t pop up out of nowhere and for no reason.

Fear clings to you, but you fight it back down your throat, swallowing it before licking your lips.

“I’m.. I'm sorry,” you started. Your voice sounded foreign to you. It was hoarse, croaky, and broken, “I don’t know all the rules to everything. I won’t make any trouble.” Your heart sank, “I just needed to rest for a moment. I can le—“

“Nonsense.” He doesn’t raise his voice or yell. It was just as rich and calm as the first time you heard it. You lick your lips once more. “What makes you think I want you to leave?”

His mouth wasn’t moving…

“Maybe I saw someone in distress and wanted to help.” He was smiling now. It was poised and polite.

If you didn’t know any better, right now felt like meeting a person on any other day. Like taking a stroll on a random day, in the daylight. Just like you used to.

You’d be walking towards campus for class only to bump into a handsome mysterious stranger, he’d be nice and help you up. Insisting he won’t leave until he knows you're alright. He takes you to lunch.

Leading you to no longer care how late you would be to class, just wishing the day won’t end, so your new found stranger wouldn’t leave you.

Were you in distress?

You won’t play the fool and deny it. But you didn’t like the sound of it either. You didn’t know this stranger. Only his voice in your head and his old eyes.

What do you do now?

Barely blinking, he was closer to you.

You registered the fact that you were sitting on the ground. Your legs curled up, bending at the knee and strown casually to your side. A body strown on the opposite side of you. Brutally mutilated beyond recognition, his chest split in the center, his flesh and guts spilling out like a wild animal taken down by a predator.

He kneeled behind you, holding your back to his chest with one hand as he caressed your cheek with the other.

“Did you do this?” He asked aloud, the breath of his voice falling softly on your forehead, tickling gently at your eyelashes.

His eyes were even prettier up close.

He was prettier than Fontaine.

You cursed whatever foreign power within you that led you to think of him, even now.

“No….” You answered, your voice still hoarse, “It was a werewolf.”

He pulled you tighter against him. Firmly, but gently holding your head to the side by a handful of your hair.

His mouth danced softly on the skin of your jaw to your neck. Worshiping the area with such devotion, it felt sinful. It felt wrong. It felt worse than the curse of being a monster forever.

His teeth sank into your flesh, filling you with as much bliss as he was taking, he wanted to be full of nothing but you. He wanted to consume you.

“Who do you belong to?” You heard his warm amber voice in your head.

“No one.” You silently answered back.

—

It’s been weeks, Slick.”

“I said I wasn’t no miracle worker,” Charles huffed. “I said, I’d see what I could do and as we seeing, it ain’t a whole lot.”

“Fontaine kicked his chair behind him as he stood up and Yo-yo stepped between him.

“Uh-uh, none of that! You remember what happened last time you killed a witch?” She hissed. “Your not putting me through that again, Nigga! I won’t let you!”

Fontaine smacked his teeth before turning around towards the window.

“You sure you can’t feel her?” He placed his hand under his shirt one more time before reaching out into the bond. He didn’t need to touch his chest in any way when reaching out to feel you in the bond that made you all a clan. It was more to calm himself down.

“Nothing.” Yo-yo sighed.

He had everyone in their clan reaching out in the bond daily to feel you, for someone to be able to either feel your emotions, dream about you, or see visions on where you were or what you might be doing.

And it was all failing.

Your connection was growing weaker to everyone everyday.

The only thing your bond was putting out was an insane amount of power. It could knock out weaker members into walls or send them flying if they touched it. For someone of your status, it shouldn’t be possible.

The only times vampires tell stories of fledglings growing insanely strong in a short amount of time was before they tried to overthrow clans from their masters, usurping the line before executing them in front of everyone.

What Fontaine did after he was turned…

“At least she stopped feeding everyday all the time.”

“But she’s been learning things.”

Fontaine’s eyebrows rose together in confusion.

“What you mean? How can you tell?”

“I don’t know.. I just can.” She shook her head with a heavy emotion everyone in the clan was starting to feel. “Something’s different about her. I felt this new person in the clan and I know you haven’t turned anyone since her.”

“She’s in the middle!” Slick slammed his hand on the table. “That’s why I say give me all the details! Every single time!” He shook his head. “ there wouldn’t been no need, to pull out my whole crystal ball and shit!”

“Will you quit whining!” Fontaine huffed, “and can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Yo-yo said she feels a new energy in the bond she can’t explain.” Slick fiddled with the hem of his sleeves, “that means she’s found someone else to pledge allegiance to.”

The air went cold.

Fontaine usually has a better grip on his influence and how it can affect the air around him, but when he was upset it came off fast and hard, filling up the room with fear and trepidation that only made it worse.

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“Fontaine, calm down. No one’s saying she betrayed you. We’re just weighing all the possibilities th—“

“I said, no.”

The intonation of his voice changed to something dark and layered with a power that made Yo-yo and slick unwilling still and stop talking.

“She would never.” Fontaine punched the wall.

“She would never drink another vampire's blood.”

—

Abel, cupped water into his hands and poured it over your shoulders, letting it cascade down your chest and your back. The water was scalding, but his hands were warmer.

His hands were gliding over your skin as if he were attempting to create you himself, or he was worshiping the expanse of your skin. Comiting every curve, bump, stretch mark, and stray mole into his memory. Basking at the feel of you and cherishing each millisecond in fear he wouldn't get another chance.

“What.. happened to me?” You asked, “every moment before now feels like a hazy fever or dream I can barely remember.”

“Bloodlust.”

“Bloodlust? I went on some crazy murder spree?!”

“No,” he smiled at your shock and you somewhat relaxed. Still not liking what had become of view, “you drank quite a large amount of blood in a short amount of time, and instinctively once you're in that state your body will only crave more and more in want of being more powerful.”

“I don’t wish to be more powerful. I don’t wish to be anything.”

Abel frowned at you, but ignored your statement.

You were a little disappointed, but you understood.

You didn’t have any friends to confide in anymore, no one to share your experience of existence with. You had no connection with anything anymore, human or creature, nothing else made you feel like more of a monster than that.

“How do you feel?”

“Better, I suppose.”

“No,” he tsked at you, “how do you feel?” His eyes flashed down at you, and you felt his energy quickly fill the room washing over you in a cocoon of warmth, rivaling the bath water.

You sighed.

There’s nothing more you hated then actively practicing and learning about what you now were.

At least, that’s how it was with Fontaine.

You reached deep within yourself. At your spirit or aura.. perhaps something deep within your mind until you felt this new magical essence that now lived within you.

It was bigger, louder.. but it still bore no color.

“I think I’m stronger in some way, but I still don’t know what color I’m supposed to see.”

“You are,” he gently grasped at your sides and lifted you up out of the water, immediately ushering you into a towel, “much stronger that is.” He patted your skin dry , before grabbing a glass jar with oil in it.

“Smell.” He lifted it to your nose.

“Hmmm.” It was a warm boozy vanilla with a hint of something spicy. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

The silence was comforting as you let him cover you with the oil and knead it into your skin.

You can’t remember the last time you had felt so at ease.

He gave you a white sweater that had to be one of his and wrapped you in a blanket as you laid on your side next to him.

He kept his hands to himself and you hated it.

You longed to curl up closer into him and let him absentmindedly play with the locs of your hair. Much longer now that they’ve grown since you’ve died. With plenty of time spent avoiding Fontaine in isolation from him and his goonies, you learned to retwist them yourself.

“How were you turned?” He looked at you with such somber eyes. They were brown just as Fontaine’s but they were much much warmer. Soft things they were, almost wet.

Was she such a sad site? Did he pity her that much?

Was she something to be pitied?

“I’m not sure. I woke up like this one morning in a random bed away from my home and my family.”

His face scrunched together, not just in confusion but sadness.

“No,” he paused, searching for the right words.”Did you consent?”

“What?” You were offended.

Who would ask for this? Only a psychopath would ask for something like this.

“No!” You both winced at how harsh you sounded.

“I did.” He gazed into the distance, looking more somber.

“Why?” You hope you didn’t sound as in disbelief and rude as you felt.

“My… my wife was turned by some random vampire, and once she finally put the pieces together and figured out what happened to her and by whom, she told me, and I asked her to turn me.”

“Oh.”

“Once she did,” he glared at the wall, …

“I had a vision. A plan for our future. . . our family,” he quickly smiled before his face fell into something dark you couldn’t describe. “Generational wealth.” He turned to you with an indescribably smile. His teeth flashed, charmingly so, but his eyes were something else that did not match, “but this. I couldn’t even imagine anything like this getting in my way. Our way.”

“What happened to her?”

“She.. passed.” He lifted his hand to brush your cheek. “She wanted to, and I didn’t hold it against her. We’d been alive for so long.”

“Why didn’t you. . . pass with her?”

“You ask so many questions.”

Had you been alive you swore your face would have burned.

You averted your gaze and focused on his hand on your face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s endearing,” he pulled you closer, nestling his head on top of yours. You now felt embarrassed for an entirely different reason. “It makes you seem so.. human.”

You sobbed.

“I didn’t ask for this. Any of it.”

“I know,” he placed his hand on the back of your head, suffocating you against his chest and you welcomed it. “I know.”

You will yourself to stop crying. You were done crying.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. When someone is turned it must be with consent. It’s a relationship built on trust. Without it, the bond between master and fledgling is painful for everyone involved

“I have no master!” You argued. “Fontaine.. doesn’t do that.”

“Then how does it work between him and everyone he’s turned.”

You sighed.

“I.. don’t really know. He and everyone in town was somehow turned by this old vampire and he compelled everyone to forget it and to be his slaves or test puppets or something,” you squeezed Abel’s back, holding him closer to you, burying your face drier into his chest, “Fontaine killed him even though he was begged not to, and somehow, they All lived and he was the new leader.”

Abel froze and you looked up at him.

“Is that bad?”

“N.. no.” He pursed his lips. “It’s just unheard of, impossible even.”

He pulled back from you for just a second, looking into your eyes. He moved his hand from your back to the temple of your forehead.

He was looking into your mind.

Fontaine used to try it all the time and you always forced him out somehow.

When he was done he held you even tighter than before. Staying silent.

You thought perhaps he was done talking and just wanted to spend time tucked against you, deciding to sleep and talk about the rest of it in the morning, but you felt his tears fall into your hairline.

You forgot just how horrific what happened to you was. You didn’t always hate him, but now you do. Not just him, but how you used to feel about him.

You’ll never forget that night, and you’ll never forgive him for what he did to you.

Another person, well, vampire, had experienced the story of how you came to die, and they wept just like you did.

You pushed your feelings deep down into the colorless energy within as you’ve always done, and you willed yourself to sleep, wishing for the chance to make Fontaine hurt as you now did.

“Uhoh, someone’s getting a little too turnt!”

“Leave me alone!” You laughed at your friend. “Finals are over, and I can now let loose!”

You might take school a little too seriously, but you came from a home where education was what saved your parents from poverty and they passed that same lesson on to you.

It might be strict to some, but as you grew older you only grew to believe it just as much as your parents.

You wouldn’t have anything if this school shit didn’t work.

You weren’t raised to hustle, you were raised to study, so that’s what you did.

But now it was time to party!

You didn’t always go out with your friends, so the nights you did, were always special. Your favorite food and drinks were always there when you were, and all your favorite people.

Usually you were really shy and reserved, but one or two drinks and the edge is off! You can let loose and maybe even dance. Who cares what anyone else thinks? You're having fun with the people you love and the people that love you!

You're making memories and forming your circle. You dreamed of the big fancy job you’d get one day to finally be able to take care of yourself and live in your own place!

“Uhhh.” Your friend called your name with a badly contained smile.

“Yeah?” You smiled back.

She smirked and then threw her arms around you with a laugh.

“Omg, what is it? Just spit it out already,” you laughed back.

“What would you say, if I told you there’s a guy here with a crush on you?” You blinked.

A crush? On you?

You believed you were pretty. You weren’t that insecure in yourself, people just tend to make it very clear that you aren’t their type.

But this was new!

Your stomach fluttered at the possibility.

“I don’t know!” You laughed again. “But whatever happens, happens!”

Your friend squeaked again and wrapped her arms around you once more.

She was so drunk. You smiled.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

You looked up to see cool dark skin, and a yellow gold smirk of a smile looking down at you.

“No, it’s okay.” You politely smiled back.

He was everything.

He liked that you listened. That you didn’t judge him off his looks.You like that he didn’t assume you were stuck up just because of how shy and introverted you could be.

Conversation was easy. Blissfully easy.

You both probably talked about anything and everything. The big personal life stuff to every miniscule thought and hobby.

He’d never seen Star Wars before.

You are a basic gym person at best.

Some music you both liked, some music he liked you never heard of and vice versa.

“How come you're not scared?”

“Scared of what?” You almost wanted to laugh but you held it in. You weren’t sure how he’d react if you did.

“Of me, or like,” he smacked his teeth, “you don’t act weird and stuff when I talk about what trips me up as a drug dealer or get that silent judgy look. People think that by not saying anything they're being polite, but they don’t know it shows on their face.”

“I don’t judge people based on their life or choices. Just by what’s on the inside. Not everyone has the same chances or choices. We’re all just trying to make it. No matter where we start in life, it’s all toward the same thing.” You stopped and pondered for a bit, searching for the right words. “It’s the government and shit they’ve gotten away with they have us all over the place. Until we can change the system or something like that. . . and yeah.” You ended dumbly.

“Yeah?” Fontaine was practically cackling at you. He laughed loudly. The sound coming from his belly, his low baritone sounds of joy flooded your senses. His yellow gold grillz shining in the low light of the room.

“Just, yeah.”

“Well excuse me for not being able to break down capitalism and its effects on the wealth gap and disparity in America and how it relates to race in one sentence. I've done it enough in school. Which is over now, and I'm tryna take a break from it all.”

You’d never felt so seen, so understood. You could see yourself in him, and he saw himself in you. You both had completely different lives, you had different ideas for almost everything except where it counts. Aside from the basic black experience and the trauma associated with that, or little quirks and social similarities they’ve grown fond of as a collective. There was something more.

A genuineness. A mirroring of the part of yourself that you couldn’t put into words. Tyrone was your person.

That’s why it was so easy to let him take you upstairs. To let his hands roam across the expense of your skin. His mouth was so warm. He lathes at your neck. Dragging his mouth down towards your chest. He sucks hard at your breast until your panting and writhing. He moves towards the next one, doing the same.

You can’t tell where your body ends or his mouth begins.

“You like that?” He looked down at you with half a pearly white smirk. When did he take his grills off? You didn’t know.

He was so calming. He crashed into you like a wave. When you first met on that couch you could feel him pulling you in towards him. The waters of his soul were cool and tranquil, and you’d happily float in the body of it all night. Now as things grew more intense as he mouthed at you, and you clutched at him just as desperately.

“Fontaine.” You moaned his name like a prayer.

He responded with a similar prayer of your name on his lips.

You were drowning in him. The wave of his entire being crashed against you, suffocating you as it flooded over and over your head until you were so far gone underneath the very waters of his essence, of him, you couldn’t breath.

“Who knew such a fat pussy could be so tight?” He lapped and lathed at your skin.

The slow growing ache within you was getting stronger and stronger. Your own desire was eating you alive, burning and festering within you. It was too much. Everything felt so good it hurt, so when he decided to bite down into your flesh, everything within you seized. Tightening in response, screaming for more.

“You like that,” he praised slowly into your neck, “i’an know you was like that.”

He pushed your legs up by your thighs. His hand sliding along your skin as if he was remolding you, reshaping you in his image before he destroys you with the very hands he pulled you out of the dirt with.

You whined, tears brimming in your eyes, but you couldn’t feel them. Fontain didn’t acknowledge them.

You wanted him to feel good. That’s all you wanted. You wanted to make him feel good so he didn’t leave you.

“—wanna be yours.” You mewled as he sucked harder at your neck once more until you made that sound again. He did it over and over again until you whined and panted for more, and he responded with another bite, much harder this time. His mouth staying on your skin much longer.

Waves and waves of pleasure flooded your senses. You arched your back to chase the feeling of his motuh, pressing yourself into him.

He released you with a wet slurp.

“You’on needa worry ‘bout that.” He pressed his dick against you, letting the head bump against your clit as he slid it along your folds. With each lazy movement your hips chased the feeling of his.

Fontaine responded by pulling his hips back, letting you feel every thick inch as he slowly pulled back until only the tip was inside of you before thrusting back into you. He set a slow enduring pace. Each heavy thrust of his hips caused a moan to fall from your lips.

He was branding you. With every thrust of his body into yours, with his hands on your body, with his mouth biting into your flesh. The sounds of his mouth on you matched the wet sounds of his slips slamming into yours.

He wasn’t just consuming you, burning you, he was molding you. Reshaping you not only into a new being but combining your souls. Molting them into one another, you didn’t know where he began and you ended, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed him. You wanted to live for him. Exist only for him.

So you chased every feeling of his body, matching each and every movement of his hips, arched your back further to get that much closer.

It was a night you never forgot. A night you couldn’t forget. Each moment of bliss was now remembered with a matching thought of pain. With every new height of pleasure you didn’t know was humanly possible was now replaced with the thought that every single peak you reached was one step away from your life, your family, and what you used to be at your very core.

A robbery of your humanity.

But you didn’t know that when you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours. Your phone nowhere to be found.

You were scared and alone.

But you remembered your night with Fontaine.

He took you away from everything, and you didn’t even get the chance to confront him about it while you threw up day and night. While you tossed and turned every waking moment with a headache that wouldn’t go away. While your stomach started to gnaw at your flesh from the inside out caving in on itself. You were hot and cold at the same time and always sweating. Everything started to blur and the sun hurt.

It didn’t help that the room was full of windows.

You had to resort to burying yourself in a hoard of blankets.

But when the moon rose high, you took your chance.

In your feeble weak state, you managed to travel around the foreign town you learned was called the Glenn. Hundred and thousands of miles away from your home.

You managed to find someone nice enough to talk to you.

“You a’right? You need to sit down? You wanta glass a’ water?”

“Please.” Your voice was horse and meak. You didn’t want to be so trusting of all these people you didn’t know, but they had to be better than Fontain or whoever the fuck he was.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

You looked at the date, it could not be right. A chill ran down your spine and filled your entire body.

It’s been 10 years.

You couldn’t have been asleep for ten years! Were you somehow drugged out of your mind? Is that how? What has that sick fuck been doing to your body while you’ve been out of conscience for ten fucking years.

Fear and bile rose in your body and you threw up.

“Aye what the fuck!” You didn’t see what happened next as black clouded the corners of your vision and the world went dark.

However, you were still there.

And in a bath of darkness you focused on your grief and your anger.

You don’t know what has happened to you, but you do know one thing. Fontaine was going to die by your hands, and that thought of comfort let you slip into your first slumber of peace.

Yoyo treaded lightly around the corner. She stood still not to draw attention to herself. She watched as the slick black ornate car pulled up to the side of the restaurant. She watched as a man with heavily styled black hair and tan skin stepped out and handed off his keys. Impeccably dressed with a heavy wool coat too match.

“Shoulda went for a black one. Would have been real fresh too.”

Yo-yo bit the inside of her cheek.

“I mean the taupe beige isn’t that bad of a look. It kinda grows on you the more you look at it. But if he really wanted to ste—“

“Nigga, don’t nobody give a damn about his fucking coat!” She hissed.

Why Fontaine made her bring Slick along, she would never know.

“Slick opened his mouth to say something smart, but Yo-yo quickly cut him off.

“Shut up! There she is!”

They watched as he opened the door to the other side.

You stepped out in a gorgeous silk red number that had a leg slit and a low back. You had a white fur shawl that covered your shoulders. Gold dripping around your neck, ears, and a few of your fingers. There had to be some diamonds sprinkled about somewhere. With that type of money, there had to.

Situation aside, Yo-yo and Slick both let out sounds of approval.

“Shit, if I could get all that, I’d leave Fontaine sorry ass too.” Yo-yo murmured.

“As a man with certain avenues and multitudes, I can not hate another player. If you got it, you got it.”

Slick snapped his fingers, the rings on his hands clacking annoyingly so, and their clothes changed.

“What the fuck am I wearing?”

“What are you complaining for? He smacked his teeth. That’s what you usually wear.”

Yo-yo would have appreciated the little yellow thing she wore anywhere else, but not now.

“You saw what they were wearing! This place is classy! It’s nice as shit and they are not about to let a couple of raggedy asses in looking like this.”

“You see that’s your problem!” He raised a finger and Yo-yo had to interrupt him.

“Nigga, I know you not putting a finger in my face!”

“Will you calm yo’ ass down! All I’m tryna say is,” he dusted off his clothes, letting a harsh breath through his nose, “Fontaine made me come with you for a reason. It don’t matter what we wear, I can get us in.”

“Mhmm, you better.”

“Abel.” You warily said his name.

He guided you through a crowd with a hand tentatively placed on your lower back. Plush and luxurious with low thundering music. People were everywhere. But if you really focused and stilled your mind a bit, you could tell who was a vampire, and there were many, and who was not.

Abel was about to answer you, but a young light skinned man had interrupted the steady pace Abel and you were making through the crowd.

“H-hi.” He said softly and sweetly before cupping your face with a hand. He had to be around your age if you were human, boyish features made it too hard to tell, even if he had a beard. Close shaven and shaped well to match his face. . His eyes were a large bright brown as he battered them shyly at you. He had full lips that looked so soft and his lashes were so long.

“Um, hi?” You blinked, not sure what to do. Too many people were crowded around in their own world to care about what was transpiring between you.

You moved his hand from your cheek, and he took it as a sign to move his face closer to yours. You stiled. Even the slightest of movements would have made your lips touch.

“Can you bite me?” His voice was a sultry pant, almost a whine.

Blood rushed through your senses. You noticed it now.

The smell of it in the room. The humans straying around from vampire to vampire.

Something on your face must have changed. Maybe your eyes flashed because his lips parted just a tad more and his eyes almost rolled back.

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing his neck before you felt Abel’s hand slide from your back to your arm, roughly pulling you back.

“She’s on a diet.” He didn’t yell or raise his voice, but his tone was clear cut and dry with plenty of bite.

He raised your hand to reveal the glowing purple glow stick bracelet.

“Oh.” The stranger pouted his lips, causing a rush of something to burn deeply within you, “well,” he fiddled with his fingers, “when you're not on a diet can you come back? I’m here almost every night.”

You turned to Abel, not sure what was happening.

“She’ll think about it.” He patted him on the shoulder before placing his hand at your back once more and led you through the crowd.

Going up steps, he let his hand fall from you, but you couldn’t find it in you to step away from him.

“This is a nightclub for vampires?”

“And humans.” Abel said casually before stopping someone and ordering a few drinks.

“Wristbands are color coded.” He led you to a cornered booth before guiding you in and sliding after you.

“Red for feeding vampires, green for those willing to be bitten, yellow for humans who don’t, and purple for vampires who are on a diet.”

You looked at your purple wristband with a frown. A gnawing sensation swelling within you.

“But I—“

“— have had more than enough.” He sighed as he saw your face fall, “look. Bloodlust is a hard thing to come back from but enough time has passed where you aren’t jumping on any and everything with a pulse.”

You nodded at the reason in his words.

“Who are we here to meet anyway?”

Abel twisted the ring around his finger and crossed one of his legs over the other one.

“The vampire who helped me after me and my wife were turned.”

As the waiter placed down your drinks, a figure appeared out of nowhere. Eerily still and quiet as people bustled to and fro around him. His gaze fixed on you and Abel.

His hollow black eyes reflected the light and surrounding colors in a strange effect you could barely understand. His equally dark and plain clothing was just as off putting.

“He is ready for you.”

Abel took a quick swig of his drink and ushered you out of the booth.

He held you close to him as you both followed the strange man.

“Let me do the talking.” Abel whispered in your ear. “If he tells you to do something, just do it and don’t protest too much.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Abel rose an eyebrow at you as his mouth twisted into a tight thin line.

“Most importantly,” he whispered in your face as you both climbed the steps to an intricate door to a room that looked over everything, “follow my lead.” His eyes flashed in the familiar old gold you’ve grown comfortable gazing at, but in this moment it made your veins run cold.

“Abel,” a man who looked strangely familiar to him, stood up from behind his desk to dutifully shake Abel’s hand with a formal and polite smile, “it’s been so long. To what do I owe this rare pleasure of a visit from you. Everything is well at the office?”

“Yes, everything is fine, but I have a request to ask of you.”

At that moment, the man looked at you and his eyebrows rose into his hairline.

“I see.” He corrected himself with another polite smile and motioned towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Let’s discuss this in a more comfortable manner.”

He and Abel looked alike, but they couldn’t appear more different.

This man’s hair was much curlier, but does this mean Abel’s hair could be equally as curly?

He was turned much later in life. The evidence in the salt and pepper of his hair and the thick beard that suited his features.

Despite their few differences there was so much they had in common. In the formal attire they both seemed to respect and their equally formal mannerisms, but it was clear this man held some sense of superiority.

Not only in how he moved and acted, but how Abel, the most powerful vampire you had recently met, treaded carefully around this one.

It would have caught you by surprise if you weren’t feeling suffocated by a strange yet powerful aura.

It had to be coming from him.

“Forgive my rudeness, let me introduce myself. I am Duke Leto Atreides although not quite a Duke anymore. That was quite some time ago.”

You cleared your throat and told him your name, introducing yourself just as politely.

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Leto looked at you a moment too long with an odd look, like you had shocked him somehow, before his face fell back into its usual demeanor.

You looked at Abel to see if you had done anything wrong, but he gave you a small nod to reassure you that you had not. However, his face seemed to hold a look of concern or wary at how the Duke was looking at you.

“What is it you came to ask for?” He cleared his throat before turning his attention back towards Abel.

“Well, it’s not so much a favor for me, but for her.” Abel crossed one leg over the other and corgilly clasped his hands together in his lap.

“She’s a fledgling.” He paused, licking his lips and dipping his head down momentarily. His eyes briefly glowed before he slightly shook his head, “she was unwillingly turned.”

The Duke’s head snapped towards you with a frown. His expression of formal politeness was no more. It was quickly succeeded by a cordial disdain, regarded with frown, on your behalf.

“Impossible.” He placed his chin in the knuckles of his hand. “Who would do such a thing? The event of someone unwillingly turned surviving is rare.”

“What!”

You violently twisted in your chair to face Abel and he stilled you with a hard look and an arm across your body to keep you from speaking and moving more.

“That is exactly my understanding as well, but she is alive and well and recently recovering from a bout of bloodlust.”

Leto stood up with a look of thought, and Abel followed suit.

You rise with a glare, your eyes looking between them both. You tried to keep your composure, but you were failing on every level. You could feel your anger coursing through your veins. Whatever magic that had your heart thumping surged throughout your body. Your heart beating faster and faster until you couldn’t feel it in your chest. It was racing at such a speed you couldn’t hear and your vision started to blur.

Leto had two hands on the side of your face, looking into your eyes as you stood frozen in your rage. When did he start talking to you? When did he put his hands on you?

“W—“

“— calm down.” His eyes glowed into yours. An iridescent gray blue. Almost a dark indigo of sorts.

It made you think of the rain. A thunderstorm and how before its clouds burst, the lightning cracks. Seconds after, it’s followed by thunder pounding. How once it ends, there’s an eerily still that falls on everything. The dark clouds recede and a bright and sunny day materializes in a bath of melancholy of not knowing what had just happened and why.

It didn’t calm you down, but it slowed your heart in your chest, something within you was still seething at him.

He didn’t weep for you as Abel did.

His thumb softly brushed at your cheek as he studied your face. A calmness bloomed across his face. His polite superiority is gone, revealing just a man— a vampire.

He looked like he found something he once longed for. Whatever it was, he now found in you.

You looked over to Abel. His expression is neutral,, revealing nothing to you.

“Um, Duke…sir?” You cleared your throat.

He practically leapt back. Except it happened before you could blink and he kept his hands awkwardly in front of him.

“Ah, yes.” He dusted off himself and brushed his clothes. “Forgive me. I got carried away.”

He looked at you once more, but now as if he knew you.

“Is there anything you could do to help her?” Abel's voice was strained with a cordial air, clipped with an agitation.

You reached out to him. Brushing your hands through his hair to rest momentarily on his cheek.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. His brow furrowing and his mouth twisting to one side before he slightly moved away from your hand.

His face was back to normal, but a nagging feeling within you told him he wasn’t. It made you ache with a need to dissuade whatever it is. You wanted to repay him for all the moments he’s calmed you down and made you feel warm these last few days.

Being with Abel made you realize just how much distress Fontaine had you under. How rage got you out of bed in the morning and hatred got you through the day.

Being with Abel made you realize just how exhausting it was.

You were still learning how to exist in a calm state. How to let go of your thoughts and anger and take things one at a time.

“I can help break her tie.”

You shared a look with Abel. Your eyebrows rose into your hairline and your mouth agape. Leto’s words seemed to put Abel at ease. He unbuttoned one of the buttons of his suit jacket and held a fraction of a smile before he turned to face him.

“It will be very painful, but I—“

He paused. His ears tinging red as he cleared his throat and averted eye contact from you.

“May I,” he licked his lips, “may I have a taste of your blood?”

You looked into his eyes. It was a mistake.

They glowed with a dark unrelenting gaze. His bashfulness was no more, either way, heat rushed throughout all your senses. Your eyes fluttered as you looked anywhere but him.

“Yes.” You quickly stuttered out. “It’s—

“Are you sure?” He interrupted you and moved his head into your line of sight. Suddenly, filling up your personal space.

You blinked repeatedly and stared dumbly in response.

No one had ever asked.

You nodded silently and he only raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yes.” You said softly but with more determination than before.

With careful hands he moved your head to the side.

Burning, his mouth was burning you.

His mouth felt like hot coals being placed on your neck. He cradles your head towards his chest as if he had done it a million times. His mouth moves along your skin with the fury of a thunderstorm, swollen with the humidity of the summer air. Unrelenting and smothering, he finally bit down, something within you breaking. The evidence of its lightning touch was the thundering of your heart in your chest.

You don’t know what to do with your hands. You run them along his chest, his back. You push and pull at the fabric of his shirt, of him. All you could smell was him.

He was all you could feel.

Slowly raising his mouth from your skin, you both pant with heaving chests as you watch the small trail of blood that connects from his mouth to your skin.

Without missing a beat, he laps at the small holes left on your skin. You can’t help the moan that spills out of you, and he closes his eyes.

You slide your hands from his back into his hair.

Desperate to pull him in once more.

When he opens them, neither of you say a word. The glowing storm clouds of his eyes transform into something so dark it’s a wonder they still glow at all.

Without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along his lips to taste more of your blood. Your eyes dart across his face, desperate to catch each movement.

He moved closer to you, mouthing along your neck and sniffed deeply at your skin, pushing his nose firmer against you. He breathed out of his mouth. The warmth of his breath searing into your pores.

You couldn’t take it.

“One more,” he panted into your neck. “Just one more.”

“Please.” You practically pant back into his mouth.

You aren’t aware of much of anything at this point. You're lost in tides of air and whirring winds and you aren’t sure you want it to end.

As he pulls up to you once more, you surge towards him in unison, unaware of just how much strength you were using.

He makes a small oomf sound as you thud into his chest. He puts his hands at your hips and holds you tentatively.

Your mouth clamps onto his neck with just as much fervor. You felt more desperate than he did. You felt like you weren’t as sensual. That you sucked and slurped at his skin like some rabid creature, but the sounds coming from you told you just how wrong you were.

His pants were growing short, sharper, almost transitioning into a low keening wine.

“Fuck.” He whimpered into your ear before pulling you off of him by your hair. An action you would have taken into offense if it was anyone else, but right now after what you both had done, you don’t know what the lines of inappropriate and appropriate were anymore.

“And here I thought I was the only woman for you.”

You both took a step away from each other. Leto straightened his posture and clasped his hands formally behind his back.

You stood wide eyed.

She had your face. Only a bit older in comparison, but you knew your own face when you saw it.

“I think it is past due time for Abel to have another lover.” A man had interrupted. And not just any man, but a man who was the spitting image of Fontaine, save for the African accent and no beard. His hair was much tamer in style, and he had an equal air of superiority that Leto carried, and he seems like the type to not play about it.

He was better than everyone, and he wanted anyone who crossed his path to know it. He barely made eye contact with anyone else in the room. The only reason he seemed interested in your existence was because of how you and Leto seemed lost in one another moments before.

“Forgive me, my love.” Leto cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with you as well. His ears tinging pink before he continued. “I assure you I have not taken up a lover of any kind.”

“No?'' She stepped closer to Leto and ran a hand through his hair.

His shoulders fell into a more casual posture, and his expression softened.

“She’s a fledgling.”

“I think it's time we made our leave.”

You turned towards Abel.

His voice did not reveal his feelings, but from the look in his eyes and the slight frown on his face, it was clear how he felt. A storm of guilt brewed in the pit of your stomach. You had only been with him for a short period of time, but you couldn't help the feeling that you committed some type of betrayal. However, not out of some loyalty, that he was some sort of only being you could be tied to, or that he was some sort of lover, but you felt some type of way about having that moment in front of him.

You still would have done it. You dont regret it in the slightest, but he shoulnd’t have been here to see it.

You sighed. Not caring to hide the agitation in your voice.

“I would love for someone to explain to me what that means instead of acting like I don't exist.”

Everyone turned to look atr Abel for some reason, and that irritated you even further. The rage boiled over within you. You could no longer see who or what was in the room, only what you were feeling.

“I know, through the magic, it feels like she's been a vampire for ten years, but if you’ve heard her story, it's only been for a short amount of time .” Abel said through his teeth.

“Well. . .” the woman who looked like you started. She eyed you up and down hungrily, “If she currently doesn’t belong to anyone. . “

“No.” Abel grabbed your arm and moved you behind him.

“I only made an agreement with him, and I don't have any allegiance to you whatsoever.”

“I understand her position of not being taught the proper edicate for how things work amongst us, but for you Abel there is no excuse!” Leto raised his voice. His eyes a startling eerie glow of a stormy blue-grey.

A wave of energy would have knocked you off your feet if you didn't grab Abel’s arm in time. He was much stronger than you were, so he didn’t seem to be affected by whatever invisible wave was swirling around in the room. He uncharacteristically glared at Leto. His apparent disrespectful attitude unwavering.

The man who had the same face of Fontaine looked you and Abel down with a pathetic disdain.

‘Where is the other one?” He asked as if he was offended that a copy of himself existed.

“What other one?” Abel spat. His eyes closing and his shoulders scrunching up as he waved his arms.

“What the fuck,” he yelled, his fangs bared and his eys glowing a dazzingly dangerous yet beatiful yellow, “is going on? What aren't you telling me?”

“Abel did you not tell them?” the woman with your face smacked her teeth and looked back at Abel with a glare.

“I was getting to it.” He looked much more sympathetic.

“It looked much more like you were about to put your tongue down another woman’s throat if you ask me.”

“Enough!’ she turned back to give the man a look. “Does it look like I care? If you can’t stand to be in the same room as Leto so badly, then you go find Jay!”

He smacked his teeth with a frown, and then suddenly looked over to you.

The sound and look on his face at that moment made him look so much like Fontaine. Anger rushed through your senses once more.

“Wipe that look off your face.’ He scoffed at you before making his way out the door, “I promise you, I hold no resemblance to whoever this other vampire may be.”

He spared one more look at Abel. This time with much less disgust.

“Follow me.”

Abel looked towards you instead.

“Go.” Leto commanded and Abel glared at him.

Silently, he followed. Not bothering to hide his frown.

You eyed him trepidly.

What was all this about?

Yo-yo didn’t like the sight of this.

A woman who looked just like you but at least ten years older walked in. Behind her, a man that looked just like Fontaine.

He kept his hair in a sizable fro on his head with a proper edge up that was faded at the temples. A smaller amount of facial hair that was way better groomed than Fontaine would ever attempt.

He was just as fancily clad as the other two men that looked alike.

“This is bad. She’s drunk that other vampire’s blood.” Slick whispered into her ear.

“Shut the fuck up before someone hears us in here!” She whisper-shouted at him.

They had snuck in, but whatever glamor Slick had placed on them had only lasted so long.

Yo-yo chewed on her lip as she watched you all sit down on a large couch. This vampire was just as strong as the one called Leto. Not only that, but she also had your face.

That meant big things. Things they couldn’t change.

A prophecy or some shit.

“Is that why you kept looking at me so strangly?” Yo-yo watched you ask. “Because you know. . .her?”

“He’s only ever met me like this.”

You nodded. Not really looking at either of them, making the woman frown in sympathy.

“My name is Shante.”

“Why do you all have our faces?”

Shante shared a look with Abel.

“Straight to the point I see.” She smiled. “I was the same way when it was my first time. I know it must have been hard and confusing.”

“Hard and confusing is an understatement.” You huffed bitterly.

She let out a short sigh, more out of nerves and not frustration.

You looked up at her oddly.

Yo-yo could only wonder why.

“I won’t hold you long or beat around the bush.”

“I think that’s best.” Abel clasped her hand in his.

“If you want to get technical, we are the originators of these faces and you all are our dopplegangers.”

You nodded, wringing your hands in your lap. “I think I know what those are.”

“You're always going to have a Leto and a Ghezo.”

Shante leveled at you with a serious tone.

This made you leap up with a hiss, baring your fangs.

“I don’t need Fontaine!”

“But you do.” Shante stood up and hissed back at you. “Without him you will never know peace. If you kill him, you might as well kill yourself too!”

“Good!” You screamed! Your voice sends a shock of power throughout the room making everyone still, even Yo-yo and Slick.

“What?” You broke the silence. “What’s so surprising about that after everything I’ve been through?”

“Forgive me,” Shante abruptly sat. “I didn’t know things were that bad between you.”

You sat with a self assured huff. Appearing more calm now that no one was about to tell you to get over your emotions.

“What makes you so sure, I need him?” You swallowed, looking straight ahead and not making eye contact with anyone. “What makes you think I could get over it?”

But everyone knew what you were really asking.

“I once was mad just as you were.” Shante said softly.

You looked at her with watery eyes.

“I was turned just like you.” Shante looked at her and Leto’s hands clasped together in her lap. “Ghezo had made a deal with someone. They promised him an eternity of power. . . But they also warned him about the cost. The people he would lose and now he’d never get close to anyone.”

She drew in a shaky breath and you cooled closer to her. She smiled softly. A tear falling down her cheek. Leto wiped at it with his thumb.

“He talked with all of us, his wives. Some said yes without thinking, but I said no.” She looked up at you, with a stream of tears falling down her face.

Yo-yo wiped a tear of her own as she watched you both cry. Slick put a hand on her shoulder, and she didn’t brush it away.

“I was in love with being human and the idea of cheating death didn’t sit right with me. Long story short, I woke up like this, against my will.”

“What did you do?” You whispered.

“I left him. I left my home. . . And then I found Leto.”

“So. . . You stayed with him and for some reason just forgave Ghezo?”

“I wish I could tell you more, but you and Abel have to find your own way. . . And Fontaine.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Yo-yo couldn’t hear anymore.

“I think we got what we came for.”

Slick didn’t say anything. Nodding, he snapped his fingers, and they were both gone.

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