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floralbuckley · 3 years ago

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Orange Trees and Royalty - A Wilmon Drabble

I would recommend listening to my light academia playlist whilst reading this, specifically Sweet Creature, Today Was a Fairytale, Northern Italy, and You Are In Love...

As Simon looks up, his eyes open in absolute wonder and amazement, and he swears he’s never seen anything more spectacular in his life. Gorgeous windows lining the outside up to the third story, the gold trimming painted on them glowing against the sunlight. He could make out the lacey curtains behind them, and the corners of his mouth turn up shyly at the thought of Wilhelm’s bedroom hidden behind one of those curtains. The lush green grass is perfectly trimmed, so bright and inviting against the pale cream walls of the Palace. He wants to take his shoes off and run across the lawn, feel how each blade would feel in between his toes as he skipped along and brushed his fingertips across the foliage of the trees.

But he knew better.

Now was the time for proper manners and tucked-in shirts and warm smiles full of grace and poise. Not childish behaviours that could end up flooding every news website in Sweden. He could just see the headline now: “Boyfriend of His Royal Highness, Prince Wilhelm, runs like a crazed monkey across the front lawn on his first visit to Stockholm Palace.”

Exactly what he doesn’t need right now.

Simon feels a hand on his back, and he turns to see the driver, a polite smile on his face as he begins to make his way toward the Palace. Simon, however, feels frozen in his spot. His grubby vans and green shirt feel so plain and out of place compared to the magnificent building in front of him. And suddenly, he wants to run home and change, or smooth out his wrinkled shirt, or put a buttoned-up blazer on. Or do anything to make him feel like he actually belongs here.

He turns his gaze away from the driver and up to the castle, and there he is. Prince Wilhelm. The lace curtain of the very left window on the third floor is pushed to the side, and all Simon can see is that mop of blonde and that toothy smile, and it’s exactly what he needs. The face of the boy he loves is enough to settle any single shred of doubt in his chest.

As a small smile settles on his face, Simon closes his eyes. Breathes in deeply. Takes in the scent of that perfectly cut grass and the orange trees and the pure dense amount of royalty surrounding him. And with a final breath, his eyes are open and his feet are moving and off he goes. Towards the front doors to fucking Stockholm Palace.

He doesn’t even need to knock. A rustle comes from inside the Palace, and suddenly the doors are shoved open and Wilhelm is rushing forwards, crashing into his boyfriends’ frame and almost knocking him over. Simon quickly wraps his arms around the taller boy whilst attempting to steady his balance, not wanting to look like a complete mess in front of the paparazzi—who are waiting by the car, cameras firmly grasped in hand as they snap shots. But it would seem the other boy has plans of his own.

All too quickly, their lips are pressed together, and giggles are escaping mouths and fingers are running through hair and happiness is spreading through chests.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Wilhelm says excitedly, pressing multiple kisses to Simon’s cheeks before giving them a gentle pinch. Simon lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, his dark curls covering his eyes, and he’s doing everything he can to not make a total ass out of himself in front of all of Sweden. But, God, he hasn’t seen Wilhelm since they graduated. Three whole months of being stuck in Bjärstad. And now that he’s finally here, he wants nothing more than to keep pressing their lips together.

But, again, Wilhelm most definitely has plans of his own. He grabs Simon's hand and pulls the shorter boy up the path and through the giant front doors he had just burst through. Then, without waiting for the driver to enter the Palace, Wilhelm pushes the doors closed and doesn’t waste a second before his lips are on Simon’s again, warm fingers gripping his boyfriends’ shirt and pulling him closer than ever. And Simon simply melts into it, his hands making their way from Wilhelm’s shoulders, sliding up to his neck and eventually resting on his jaw, his fingertips scratching at the base of his hairline.

They stay like that for what feels like forever, basking in the warm embrace of the person they love the most, mouths open and hearts beating so hard against each other’s chests.

And it’s a small cough that interrupts them. Simon lets out a groan of frustration. He turns, and it’s the driver, standing there with his eyes looking up at the roof and his hands locked together in front of him.

“Uh, did you still need me, Your Highness?” The driver questions, his gaze still averted. A small chuckle of embarrassment escapes Simon’s lips, and he rests his forehead on Wille’s shoulder.

“That’ll be all, thank you, Isak.” Wilhelm reaches his arm out, and the two shake hands before Isak nods his head and walks across the foyer of the Palace and through another door.

“Thank you, Isak,” Simon mocks in between giggles.

“Argh, shut up!” Wilhelm laughs, pressing more kisses to the other boys’ cheeks. Finally, he grabs Simon’s hand and starts to pull him further into the foyer towards more doors. “C’mon, I want to show you the grounds. They’re so pretty in summer.”

“Not as pretty as you,” Simon says quietly, lifting their intertwined hands and kissing the back of Wilhelm’s, who stops before they reach a large wooden door. The smile on his face is one full of amusement and raised eyebrows, and a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“That was so gross.”

Before Simon has time to respond, Wilhelm has dragged them through the door to reveal the back gardens, and Simon’s eyes are even wider than when he first pulled up to the estate. Small garden beds full of flowers and orange trees are placed all over the grounds, some with bird baths, others with a lemon or an apple tree next to the oranges, one even with a small river running through it. There is a brick pathway leading to an ample outdoor dining space with a huge wooden table, able to seat at least 50 people. Vines of ivy crawling up the archways with fairy lights hanging from the wooden beams above the table. The lawns are even lusher than the front garden, stretching on for a few hundred metres before it turns into the biggest lake Simon has ever seen, giant fir trees surrounding the body of water. There are two boats on the lake tied to the small pier, rocking back and forth slowly with the gentle breeze. To the left of the lake are tennis courts, and on the other side, Simon can see the pool that’s beyond the dining space—so large he’s sure that all 50 people who join them for dinner outside could also hop into the pool together after they eat.

Simon is in a state of wonder and amazement as he looks over the grounds, and everything is so perfect. And the boy holding his hand next to him makes everything feel even more perfect if that’s at all possible.

“Holy shit,” Simon breathes out. Next to him, Wilhelm chuckles. “I think I chose the right boyfriend.”

Wilhelm gives him a small shove, a huge toothy grin plastered on his face. “Hey, if I had known you were just after me for my money, I would never have kissed you first!”

“Well, good news for you then, because I kissed you first,” Simon says matter-of-factly. He licks his lips and juts them out, knowing just how much it drives his boyfriend crazy and also how badly he wants to win this faux argument.

It takes Wilhelm a few seconds of staring at Simon’s lips before licking his own and letting out a huff. “You so did not. You were walking away, and I pulled you back, and then I kissed you first.” He runs both his hands through his hair, letting the strands fall into his eyes—his own move that he knows Simon loves.

And Simon does. And he’s weak, and he can’t be bothered with this fake argument anymore. And now that there’s no press around, Simon wants to have some fun. So he kicks off his vans and takes off his socks, then, with a turn of his head, he’s off, running across the grounds towards the pool. His laugh rings through the air as he looks behind him to see Wilhelm chasing him.

“Come and get me!” He calls. “C’mon, Prince Wille, keep up!” Cheeky giggles escape his lips, and as he reaches the pool, he slows down and turns around. Wilhelm is catching up, and Simon makes the quick decision to start running again, this time towards the pier. After graduating from Hillerska, Simon had stopped rowing, and therefore his fitness levels had significantly dropped, and right now, he could definitely feel it. The aches in his legs, the heaving of his chest, the warmth in his face. But this is just too fun, and the blades of grass feel even better between his toes than he could have imagined.

Wilhelm’s footsteps are getting closer as Simon is closing in on the pier. He slows to a stop just before the small wooden bridge, his feet still firmly placed in the grass and his breaths coming out heavily. He watches his boyfriend running towards him, and he shouts, “Is that all you’ve got, Your Royal Highness?!” Laughs are escaping both their lips, and Wilhelm is slowing down as he gets closer to Simon.

Both boys stand silently for a moment as they try to catch their breath, huffs of air coming in and out of their mouths quickly. “You’re an asshole,” Wille says, the smile not leaving his face for a second as he runs his hands through Simon’s curls to mess them up.

“Good thing you love my asshole then, hey?” Simon replies, swatting his boyfriends’ hands away, a frustrated grunt escaping his lips.

“God! Shut up!”

Not giving him a second to reply, once again, Wilhelm’s lips are on Simon’s. And once again, they both melt into it instantly. And once again, it’s cut far too short then either of them would like. Simon feels a drop of something wet on his cheek, and as he pulls his mouth away from Wilhelm's, he wipes his cheek and looks up to the sky. Among their little running adventure, huge grey clouds have taken over the sky, angry and threatening to begin pouring at any moment.

And soon, that one drop becomes two, then three, then too many raindrops for Simon to keep count of. And they’re in his hair, and on Wilhelm’s cheeks, and Simon’s on hands, and covering Wilhelm’s shoulders.

And from head to toe, the two boys stand by the pier, sopping wet and completely drenched, Simon’s bare feet beginning to feel numb from the now wet and cold blades of grass. The summer sun is still beating down on them, warming their cheeks as they tip their foreheads so they’re touching, sounds of laughter and happiness tumbling out of their lips.

“I can’t believe I had to go without you for 3 whole months,” Wilhelm says, pressing a quick kiss to Simon’s lips.

“I guess we better go inside and make up for lost time,” Simon giggles in reply, returning Wille’s kiss with one of his own, slightly longer this time, however, and followed up by many more chaste kisses.

It felt like they were in their own world, just the two of them, alone finally, running around the Stockholm Palace gardens hand-in-hand. Not a care in the world. No school. No drama. No press surrounding them. They finally had their own little bubble of happiness to enjoy. And not just for a weekend or a two-week break this time, but for the entire summer. And damnit, were they going to make this the best summer of their lives.

#young royals #wilmon #prince wilhelm #wille #simme #simon eriksson #simon x wilhelm #wilhelm x simon #yr netflix #young royals netflix #willmon #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #writing #my writing #leah writes

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theliterarywolf · 3 years ago

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If the changes to the Lacey act happen it will screw with so many things in a disastrous cascade. It screws with zoos. It's screws with all kinds of research. It screws with animal rehab. It screws with rescues. It fucks pet owners who may have to drive across state lines to get their animals vet care. It's utter bull honkey

It honestly feels like some old, disconnected twat saw the shitshow surrounding the illegal tiger trade as shown in Tiger King and took that as an opportunity to go 'Beep-boop, common folks are too stupid to take care of animals!'

Yes, I acknowledge that there are some people who smuggle animals or those who buy them just because they can and end up neglecting the poor creatures, but not everyone who has exotic animals is like that. In fact, most of the people I see and know who take care of things like snakes and parrots treat them better than some people treat their kids.

And, on that note, here's a picture of my Red-Bellied Parrot being a dweeb

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years ago

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Day 2: Relationships / Matching

*Introducing the Perfect Pair Collection, featuring asymmetrical designs that match.* The oxymoron was not lost on her.

Time to switch to a completely different art style on day 2– 😣 Today’s prompt features the Pomefiore trio!

A harsh tug on his sleeve drew Jade to a halt. He glanced at Miss Raven, who clung to his side, pointing to a nearby shop window with her free hand. Jade followed her finger to what was on display—small boxes and racks, each displaying a glittering piece of jewelry.

“Oya, I do not believe we have baubles on the grocery list,” he tutted, teasingly wagging a finger. “To think that your interest would be so easily captured by mere shiny objects, Miss Raven... Corvids truly are simple-minded creatures. Perhaps you have more in common with the headmaster than I had initially thought.”

“I’m allowed to appreciate beauty, aren’t I?” Raven retorted, casting Jade a sideways glare. “Besides, you wear jewelry.”

“Ah, this?” He gently tapped at the earring dangling from his left earlobe. Three diamond-shaped scales cast a silvery-blue glow upon his skin. “I wouldn’t call it a piece of jewelry so much as a battle trophy.”

At this, Raven wrenched her face away from the glass display to stare at him. “Please don’t tell me you did something unsavory to get your hands on it.”

“You have such strange ideas, Miss Raven.” Jade chuckled as he slicked back his black stripe of hair behind his accessory-clad ear. “Fufu. There is nothing unsavory about victors claiming a prize for their triumph, correct? That is only the natural order of things.”

… I feel sorry for whoever the twins beat up.

She shook her head and returned her gaze to the display window--to the selection of earrings that were laid out upon velvet cloth. Introducing the Perfect Pair Collection, read a sign, featuring asymmetrical designs that match. (The oxymoron was not lost on her.)

Surrounding the sign were various pairs, as promised: a sun and a moon, a jar of jelly and another of peanut butter, a hand and a heart… but Raven felt herself drawn to earrings in the shape of a lock and a key. How peculiar that the head of the key curved into a heart and that its teeth were ribbed with pearls, and how slim yet stylish the lock was.

“My, are you interested in that pair? What an interesting choice.”

“N-No! I’m just admiring them,” Raven insisted. “You don’t normally see designs like this… I wonder how the jeweler was able to make objects so clunky and heavy into something wearable.”

“That is a fair point. The craftsmanship is indeed exquisite.” Jade’s sharp eyes carefully traced the shape of Raven’s ears--pointed, like the headmaster’s. “How unfortunate it is that you lack the piercings to wear them.”

Raven’s hands instinctively flew to her earlobes, as though trying to shield them from him. “I told you, I’m not interested in buying--”

“Why, whoever said anything about you purchasing the earrings? I was keen to pick up a new pair for myself.” Jade provided a smile and a bow. “Now then, if you would excuse me for one moment…”

Before Raven could protest, he had already vanished inside the jewelry store, leaving her stranded on the street with a list of groceries to procure.

“... Fantastic.”

The bird sighed into her palms. From past experience, she knew that it would not be a wise idea to pursue Jade and attempt to drag him away. For as skilled as Raven was at weaving words, she often found that Jade’s natural charisma, paired with his silver tongue, often gave him the advantage in disagreements.

Best to just leave it for now.

Still, she warily eyed him through the store window as he conversed with a clerk. A few vague hand gestures, a practiced smile, a polite and controlled laugh. All motions Raven had familiarized herself with.

Entranced with her eel watching, Raven didn’t register the trio approaching her until one of the group called out to her.

“Mon petit oiseau! What a coincidence it is to be running into you today.”

“Oh!” She startled at the huntsman’s voice. “Rook…!! And… Vil-senpai and Epel-san. Hello…!”

Acutely aware of Vil’s sternness, Raven quickly lowered her head in deference. This earned a slight curl of the lips from him.

He was dressed as fashionably as ever--a white, frilly top with a V-neck, paired with sunglasses propped in his hair, sleek leggings, and glove boots. Several necklaces adorned Vil’s long, milky neck, and his face was expertly painted with a sheer wash of shimmering, nude makeup.

“Good day to you, Shetland potato,” Vil replied coolly. He passed a glance to Epel, who stood behind him, struggling to carry several rolls of fabric.

“G-Good day,” Epel managed, tugging at his collar. It appeared as though Vil had dressed him, too--for he was dressed in a lacey lilac blouse, and tied off with a black bow. Instead of leggings, Epel wore puffy shorts and striped socks.

“Such a treat it is to see you out of the attic and venturing out into the world!” Rook laughed, brushing back a wisp of his golden hair. He was without his trademark feathered hat, and had traded his dormitory robes for a button-down shirt--the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone, army green khakis, and boating shoes.

Compared to the Pomefiore trio, Raven looked like a spaghetti stain on a square of white fabric. She nervously dusted off her skirt, hoping that Vil wouldn’t harp on how she was wearing the same outfit yet again.

“What brings you to town?” Rook inquired, dropping the bags he had been carrying and excitedly grasping Raven’s hands instead.

“Just… groceries. Uncle is away for a conference, so I am to fend for myself in his absence,” she mumbled, gingerly prying her hands away. “Well… sort of. Jade has been mother henning me for the past few days.”

“Monsieur Mastermind? Ohoh. What a dynamic duo! Two halves of the same coin, trading bitter blows with their words… forever locked in verbal combat!”

“I… I guess?”

“I trust that he is looking after you well?” Rook’s smile widened. “If not... perhaps we should kidnap you away and stow you in Pomefiore until the headmaster’s return!”

“Absolutely not,” Vil snapped. “We have our hands far too full with play preparations to be hosting the Shetland potato--or anyone else, for that matter.”

… H-He didn’t object to Rook kidnapping people. Is that a normal thing for Rook to do? Should I be concerned? She shoved her question down to change the subject to something more comfortable. “Erm… Is that what the supplies are for?”

“Oui! Roi du Poison’s club is staging a performance in the winter. These materials are to make costumes.” The huntsman’s eyes suddenly lit up with a mischievous sparkle. “Fufu. Mon roi has thrown his heart and soul into direction. It is a treat to behold!”

“Congratulations, senpai.”

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” Vil commanded, holding up a hand. “We are still in the throes of auditions. Wait until you have witnessed the show for yourself before you cheer for it.”

“Oh, well… I hope you find suitable actors, then.”

Vil’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Hm. Now that you mention it… Shetland potato!”

Raven jumped when he barked at her. “Y-Yes?! Look, I know I’ve been wearing the same outfit every time you see me, it’s just that Uncle fills my closet with nothing but duplicate clothes…!!”

“I think you would be fitting for one of the roles in my play,” Vil declared. “Report to Pomefiore at 8 am sharp tomorrow if you are interested in auditioning.”

“Huh?! Me, in one of your… I don’t think I’m…”

“Are you doubting my eyes?” His glare sharpened, turning into a pointed dagger.

“N-No, sir…”

“Good. Then I hope to see you then.” Vil spun around on his heel and waved a hand. “Rook! Epel! We’re going. Don’t dawdle, now.”

“Yes, Vil-senpai. I-I’m coming!”

Epel dashed after his Dorm Leader, Rook following suit--but not before he gave Raven one last glance over his shoulder, accompanied by a wave. Au revoir, he mouthed, the twinkle never parting from his emerald eyes.

She waved back absentmindedly, brought back from her daze only by the ringing of the jewelry store door swinging open again.

Jade emerged from within, bearing a small baby blue box with a white silk bow. “I have returned, Miss Raven. Fufu. I trust that you were not too lonely without me?”

She hastily hid her hands behind her back. “Of course not. You were only gone for a few minutes…!”

“So I was.” Jade’s eyes darted to the Pomefiore trio, whose figures were vanishing over the horizon. “Had I been absent a few moments longer, perhaps I would have had to wrangle you from the hands of an nosy huntsman.”

“As though forcing your way in and kidnapping me back would be any better!”

Jade stifled a laugh.

“In any case, I have procured the earrings I had my heart set on.” With deft fingers, he slid off the top, revealing a glittering lock and key tucked away inside. Jade plucked up the key by the head. “Miss Raven, do lend me your ear.”

“Those are yours…!”

“Correct--and therefore, I may do with these as I please.” He smiled pleasantly. “And I choose to lend you one to wear.”

“It’s not that simple! Have you forgotten already? I can’t wear it--don’t have piercings,” she protested. “You’re not going to jab it through my earlobes, are you?!”

“I will do no such thing.” Jade’s voice remained tranquil as he seized the raven by her chin and jerked her head to one side, yielding a clear opening for him to plant the earring. She squawked in surprise, flailing against him--but his grip was too strong, and she, too weak.

He sighed, continuing to speak as though he were describing the nice weather. “I assure you, this will not hurt one bit, fufufu. Now be a dear and hold still.”

It happened in an instant, despite the bird’s struggles. A slight pinch upon her earlobe, the kiss of the cool metal key on her skin, and it was over.

Jade straightened with a satisfied smirk, and patted Raven on the cheek. “There we are.”

“Eh? What? How did…” She cautiously poked at the earring. “There wasn’t a needle…?”

“I requested that the jeweler convert the key earring into a clip-on.”

“Wha…?! You… You tricked me again?!” Her face flared with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. “But why even bother with such a thing?”

“I wished to see how it would look on you. As I suspected, it is lovely on you.”

Raven gritted her teeth, praying that it would somehow help hide her flusteredness. “... And what do you plan to do with the lock earring? You didn’t also have that one converted, did you?”

“Certainly not.” Jade toyed with the lock in question, rolling it between his index finger and thumb. “I was thinking to wear it myself in lieu of my usual sturgeon scale earring, so that we may match.”

“Match?” Raven scoffed through her blush. “I didn’t know you cared so much about your accessories while grocery shopping.”

“I do not,” he confessed with a coy grin. “However, I would be remiss to pass up an opportunity to show to the world what a perfect pair we make.”

“You what--” Raven was interrupted by Jade grasping one of her hands and placing the lock earring into it.

“If you would do the honors,” he murmured, tilting his head to one side--and once more, slicking his black hair back. His tone was low and inviting, yet somehow she could hear him well and clear over the townspeople that bustled around them.

The scales suspended on his earring swung back and forth in a slow motion. Click, clack, against one another, in an almost hypnotic fashion.

His single, golden eye stared right at her. Waiting, pleading.

Raven swallowed hard. With trembling hands, she unfastened the sturgeon scale earring from his earlobe and secured the lock earring in its place. As soon as the deed was done, she rushed to wipe her hands off on her skirt.

Eel cooties, eel cooties, eel cooties…!!

“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Raven.”

“You’re… you’re welcome.” She pursed her lips, avoiding his eyes--but her traitorous gaze soon found itself lingering on the lock. “That suits you, in a way--like a lock, you guard many secrets, and it’s impossible to get you to open up.”

“Fufu. I am flattered to hear such kind words. If I may return the compliment, that key earring fits you like a glove.”

“Right. Because Uncle is adorned in keys, it would make sense for the motif to carry over to his relatives.”

“No, no, you misunderstand.” Jade held a finger to his lips, a twinkle of conspiracy in his golden eyes. “Come closer… and I shall impart one of my closely guarded secrets to you.”

“This isn’t another one of your tricks, is it?” she asked, her eyes forming suspicious slivers--but despite her curt words, the bird’s body instinctively leaned into his. She cursed her curiosity.

Jade chuckled and bent down, allowing his lips to hover by her ear. Time seemed to slow, but her heartbeat quickened. Face, hot--extremities, cold. Opposites, yet matching. One, unable to exist without the other.

And, at last, his answer came.

“It suits you well--for you hold the key to my heart, Miss Raven.”

#twst #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc week #Jade Leech #Vil Schoenheit #Raven Crowley #Epel Felmier #Rook Hunt #twst oc #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #my art

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stillebesat · 3 years ago

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Meeting Virgil (5x1) -Third Time

Sanders Shorts: Remy Sanders Sides: Virgil Blurb: A Special Delivery Prequel. -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded. Inspiration: @book-of-charlie asked: What did Virgil mean by “the last 5 times?” Fic Type: STORK!AU, Winged!Remy Chapter Warnings: Implied Neglectful Parents, Implied Miscarriage Taglist in Reblog. To Catch Up: First Time Second Time

Little Lacey was going to change the world. Remy knew it from the moment the baby girl’s eyes had lit up upon seeing him and his wings. From the second she had opened her mouth and let out the most contagious laugh he’d ever heard.

Even now, as he wound his way through the golf course parking lot crowded with stalls and people waiting for the fireworks to start on the hill above them, Lacey drew smiles from everyone standing nearby with that contagious bubbling laughter as she bounced in his arms.

He’d been tempted to put her to sleep when the twin lines of green and purple he’d been following led straight into this noisy place with music blaring, kids screaming, and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy thick in the air. First impressions with new parents hardly went well if the baby was screaming their head off after all, yet Lacey apparently loved the chaos surrounding them. She’d perked right up, her giggles ringing in his ear before he’d even landed.

There was no doubt. Despite her previous parents’ best attempts to treat her like a forgotten dusty doll in a china cabinet, Lacey thrived in having everyone’s attention focused on her. For being in the limelight. Yes. Remy knew she would change the world once she was older if the way everyone cooed -from the lady waiting in line with her son to get their face painted to the burly motorcycle dude that looked like he could tear your head off with his pinky- at her was any indication.

It was attention that Remy wasn’t exactly used to dealing with himself anymore. Usually his S.T.O.R.K. duties took him to places that were...quieter...more…secluded environments. One on Two situations where he could meet the new parents away from watching eyes, give them their new bundle of joy and then take off soon after their bond was established.

“Oh, isn’t she precious!” A grandmother cooed at Lacey, her hands twitching with the obvious old person urge to pinch the baby’s cheeks as she gave Remy a warm smile. “You’re one lucky fella having such a beautiful daughter!”

His stomach did a little uncomfortable flip flop at that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken as a parent, but it always threw him off when people assumed he was capable of such a feat when growing up it had felt like everyone expected him to die before he reached twenty.

According to Larry and Dot, however, despite the years he’d spent ferrying babies around -and getting them to their parents without issue...well, major issues-- he was still quite ‘rough around the edges.’

Ha.

He’d like to see them say that when faced with the burly motorcycle dude two stalls over. He couldn’t be that rough acting anymore.

Probably.

Maybe.

Eh.

Remy shook his head, wings twitching against his back as he grinned at the woman, glad his metallic green eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. “She’s adorable alright, but I’m just watching her for a friend while they grab a bite to eat.” He tilted his head to the twin lines that led towards the other side of the food stalls beyond the lady as Lacey giggled in his ear, nuzzling her head into his shoulder.

The words flowed easily enough off his tongue, despite the bitter taste they left. Lying wasn’t really a thing with S.T.O.R.K.s hence his...technical truth. He was watching Lacey, though friend might be a bit strong of a word when he’d never met the parents before. But he was planning to grab some of those delectable chicken strips he could smell afterwards. So yah...basically the truth.

He was good at that.

Larry and Dot would visibly roll their eyes but quietly smile their approval at his ability to find and exploit loopholes.

The grandmother’s eyes grew softer as Lacey wiggled, reaching fingers grabbing onto the feathers her little hands could reach. “How sweet.” She murmured, placing a hand over her heart.

Did she mean Lacey or the fact Remy was ‘watching’ her? He sighed internally, keeping the smile in place with effort. He’d never been the greatest at interacting with old people who would ‘dear me’ and ‘oh my’ him to death if he accidentally slipped and swore in front of them.

“Mhmmm, if you’ll excuse me.” He gave her a nod, wings pressing harder against his back as he edged around her, waving one hand over his head like he was acknowledging someone in the distance and quickly vanished into the crowd, following the green and purple ribbons that would lead him to Lacey’s future family.

Still both glowing with the exact same shade of brightness. Still unknown just which one would end up with little Lacey’s shining personality in their lives.

Well. He paused as the two colored ribbons finally diverged. The Purple leading to the right to where the sun had just set. Green leading to the left to where hundreds of people were sitting, waiting for the show in the sky.

Both options meant still more people. But with the brightness being so close, he’d have to scope out both possibilities first before making a decision.

He exhaled, trying to remain relaxed as the crowd brushed by him, his wings trembling against his back. It wasn’t like anyone could see his wings so he had nothing to fear about being mobbed for his feathers. But still. The constant press of people unknowingly touching them had him on edge.

“Purple first.” He mumbled, adjusting his grip on Lacey as she sat back up, clapping her hands together with a squeal as he moved them closer to a brightly colored bouncy house. It wasn’t like the Edgelord would be here among the Good Old Rocky Mountains when he lived on the opposite side of the country, but it would be best to confirm that first.

With how quickly ‘Virge’ had vanished that night in the woods, it wouldn’t surprise him if the poor guy was still lost in the backwaters of Virginia.

No. Probably not. He seemed resourceful enough...unless he’d gotten himself captured by a Mothman colony--did they have colonies or were they more of a solitary creat--

Remy unexpectedly broke through the crowd, coming out where a line of porta-potties stood like quiet stinky sentinels in the fading light.

And there, right where the purple line ended, stood Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad himself in all his gothic glory. Wearing a black tank top that showed off his arms, artistically torn jeans, and purple dyed hair falling into his storm colored eyes.

Remy’s heart skipped a beat as he stumbled to a stop, rapidly blinking to clear his vision of this impossible mirage. “No. Fu--Freaking. Way.” He breathed, staring at Virge just as the guy reached down and picked up a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, easily balancing her on his hip like he’d done this exact action multiple times before, speaking softly to her as he brushed the tears from her wet cheeks with his thumb.

Remy swallowed, bouncing Lacey as she wiggled in his grip. Lost maybe? Had to be. He couldn’t see the bonding lines between the two of them for all that Virge looked like a Father patiently calming his distressed child.

Of course, that didn’t rule out the possibility that she was his cousin, or even a niece or some kid of a friend. He would need to get closer to the girl to know for sure if there was any connection between the two.

Remy shrugged, drawing in a steadying breath. Well. Better make his move now rather than later. “Well, Laceyloo” He said, giving the girl a wink as he moved forward. “Ready to try your luck with our resident Emo?”

Didn’t the saying go that the ‘third time's the charm’ or something? With how adorably cute she was...and with how comfortable Virge seemed with this other little girl, perhaps Lacey’s laughter would be the key to convincing Dark and Brooding to accept his obviously destined role as a Father.

One could hope.

“Hey Stranger.” He called, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as the Edgelord jumped like he’d just been electrocuted, causing the little girl to cry out and cling to him as stormy grey eyes met Remy’s metallic green ones.

Virge glowered at him even as his hands moved to soothe the girl, low words leaving his lips as she buried her head against his chest, his stormy eyes only softening as Lacey sat upright in Remy’s arms and gave him a tiny wave of her hand and a delighted giggle.

“Hey.” He said, still focused on Lacey, a myriad of conflicting expressions crossing his face.

Hook.

Remy moved a deliberately casual step closer, wings fluttering with anticipation. “Fancy meeting you here.” He made a show of looking around. “Does Mothman usually attend this sort of thing?”

Virge rolled his eyes, glancing at the girl in his arms before focusing back on Remy. “Slenderman actually.”

A what? Remy paused, glancing at the sniffling girl with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” She didn’t look like a...whatever a Slenderman was.

Another thing he’d have to go look up if these encounters with V-man were gonna continue and he kept insisting on referencing random fantasy cryptid creatures that Remy had barely heard of.

That way he would be more prepared next time.

If there was a next time.

If Lacey failed to work her magic.

Which she wouldn’t.

Because she was Lacey the Amazing and this was their lucky third encounter. So of course he wouldn’t be seeing his stubborn Emo Nightmare again.

Unfortunately.

Virge snorted. “No. She wouldn’t be considered one if I was. Lily here has lost her parents. I’m helping her find them. Right Lily?”

The child glanced up, face tear-streaked, bright brown eyes shimmering with more tears waiting to fall. “They’re gone.” She whimpered.

“And we’ll find them.” Virge assured, voice going soft. “Remember? You were telling me what your Mommy was wearing. A pretty pearl necklace right? Her favorite that you can’t yet wear?”

She sniffled, nodding. “Yah.”

Remy shook his head. Well that was a helpful description.

Not.

Still. Edgelord had shown more patience with the crying kid than most strangers would in this sort of situation. “A necklace.” He repeated. “Like you’ll be able to see that in the dark.”

Virge rolled his eyes. “It’s more help than you’re currently being, Eagle One. Plus I am listening for anyone calling her name.”

“Mhmm in this crowd? The parents would need to scream quite loud.” He took another step closer, smiling as Lily and Lacey made eye contact, the baby in his arms wiggling as Lily straightened with a “Hi you!” as she waved at Lacey. “No, It sounds like you need help from an Expert.” He said, spreading out his wings, flapping them once.

A bad decision really with how many people were around that he could have hit, though the surprised sound Virge made as he lifted a hand, taking an automatic step closer as his grey eyes darted to the people continuing by made it well worth it.

He froze as Lacey laughed, making grabby hands at his wings and Lily gasped a soft “Angel?” leaving her lips, her brown eyes growing bright with awe.

A S.T.O.R.K. But he wouldn’t begrudge the child for her confusion. Remy nodded to Lily, bouncing Lacey in his arms. “I’m here to help you Lils. We’ll find your parents.”

This close he could see easily her parent line--the same Green one he’d been following earlier ironically enough, because of course it would be the same fu-freaking line he’d followed all the way here, winding its way upwind of the porta-potties to a low hill with a couple shade trees at the top. Well, if it didn’t work out with Mr. Reluctant here, at least it appeared Lily already liked her potential new baby sister if their shared giggles and fascination with his wings was anything to go by.

Virge stared beyond Remy, watching the crowd, growing more tense the longer everyone else continued walking by without reacting. “They can’t--” He whispered.

“See them? No.” Remy folded his wings, unwilling to keep them open and exposed around so many individuals now that he’d made his point. “Betcha that’s why people don’t usually see your Mothman either.” Probably. It had to be a magic related thing. Or belief thing. A blending ability? Were S.T.O.R.K.s like Mothmen? Bigfoot? Vampi--oh, yah no….his wings pressed against his back. If it turned out Vampires and Werewolves and Mothmen were actually real only then would he have a mental breakdown over maybe being in the same category as mythical creatures. Right now. He had to focus. Find Lily’s parents. Give Lacey to the Edgelord and walla. Mission accomplished.

Virge slowly shook his head, shifting Lily against his side before he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, there's been enough credible sightings of Mothmen by people to discount that theory.” He said, shrugging one shoulder. “It may explain why, when people talk about their encounters with Angels, that they rarely mention them with wings though.”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Not an Angel, V-man. I already told you. I’m a--”

“Stork. Yes. But are you sure that’s not a type of Angel?” He asked, eyes gleaming in the faint light given by the lamp posts. “You bring babies to parents who want children right? You’re willing to help me find this girl’s parents. Therefore a Stork could be a subset of Guardian Angels.”

Huh.

“...You been thinking on this alot?” Remy asked faintly.

Which One. It shouldn’t thrill him that Gothica incarnate was thinking about him. And Two. Questioning his so-called ‘Angelhood’ was definitely not going to keep him up all night regardless of how this encounter ended. An Angel? HIM?! Ha. Larry and Dot would have a conniption that their troubled ward was considered some sort of goodie two shoes Guardian Angel.

Maybe.

Else Larry would tear up, crush him in a hug, and start blubbering Dadisms of ‘being so proud’ and Dot would pat him firmly on the back and say “about time.” It was hard to tell which they’d go most days.

Remy shook his head, raising a finger and jabbing it in Edgelord’s direction. “You.” He said. “Are distracting me from helping Lily” and Lacey “find her parents. Shame. On. You.” He spread a wing towards the girl in Virge’s arms. She immediately perked up, a shy smile on her lips as she reached out to touch his feathers.

Laughter danced in Virge’s eyes as tilted his head, purple tipped bangs falling in front of them, shadowing their grey color further as he maintained eye contact, not at all distracted by the wing inches from his arm. “Oh? Then tell me, O Mighty Stork, how can you find her parents?”

“Same way I keep finding you.” Remy said with a smirk, heart fluttering in anticipation as Popsicle blanched. So close. “Not that you can see it.” He pointed to the ground where the purple ribbon still shown between Virge and Lacey and then over to the green one that also streaked from her to run parallel to Lily’s line that would lead them to her parents. “But all children have a connection between them and their parents or guardians that we,” he gestured to himself, “can see.”

Virge licked his lips, glancing to Lacey, then to the ground, his arm tightening protectively around Lily. “And Lily’s parents are?”

“Right up that hill.” He said without hesitation, pointing to where the green line led. “I can’t see who it ends at, but they are over there. I can easily reunite Lily with them, if you don’t mind holding little Lacey here for me in the meantime.” He said, his wings rising and mantling around them to block Virge’s view of anyone else as he held out the baby for him to take.

Lacey automatically reached out to her potential new Dad, making grabby hands along with a soft cooing sound demanding to be held.

Line.

Virge reached out, arm already curving to take the baby from him, only to hesitate at the last second, grey eyes flickering with shadows as he met Remy’s green ones. “That first time. When you broke into my place. You said…” He licked his lips, hand trembling as he pulled it back to hold onto Lily. “I would only have to ‘hold her and see.’ What did you mean by that?”

….Smart Fish.

Remy exhaled, shaking his head. Sinker totally sunk. Suspicious Nancy here just had to remember some off hand comment he’d made ages ago and question it.

It was times like this that he wished he could Lie to potential parents. It would make his job so much easier. But at the same time, he knew all too well that starting out a budding connection with lies would mean a crumbling family foundation later on. Best to stick to the truth to give the child the best connection with their new parents from the start.

Remy pulled Lacey back into a more steady position against his chest, soothing her disgruntled sounds as she still tried to reach out to the Emo--or maybe it was Lily she was reaching for? The other little girl was bouncing in Virge’s arms hard enough to be a workout as she stretched towards Remy.

Probably a good idea to not have those two touch just yet. He wanted to try and make the bond with Virge work first before allowing Lacey to complete the bond with Lily’s family. He shifted to keep the two out of reach from each other before speaking to Virge. “A parental bond is only established with a child in the custody of a S.T.O.R.K. when said child is touched or held by the new parent. It’s a love at first contact sort of thing.” He said, not at all surprised when the reluctant Emo took two quick steps back away from him.

Stubborn. Why was he so stubborn about this?! Shouldn’t him showing up Three Fuc--Freaking times be clear enough indication that PopStar here was meant to be a Father?!

“So~. If I were to hold Lacey for you while you helped Lily--’” Virge asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I would have killed two birds with one stone.” He said simply. “Lily would return to her parents and Lacey here would have bonded with you and you’d be her new Dad.”

Virge growled at that, eyes flashing as his shoulders hunched high enough to nearly touch his ears. “I told you before that I’m not a good Dad.” He hissed. “And yet you just tried to trick me into--”

Well most people weren’t this stupidly resistant to becoming a parent.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Ah Huh. For some reason, LolliPop.” He gestured to Lily still comfortably resting in his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Virgil bared his teeth, arms tightening protectively around the girl. “This is different. She’s lost! I’m not going to leave her to wander around here all alone!”

“And Lacey is different how?” Remy retorted. “She is lost, looking for a new Dad, and walla you’re here to save the bloody day!”

Virgil shook his head, taking two more steps back, nearly hitting the nearest porta-pottie. “NO.”

And just like that the Purple line fizzled, growing hazy to Remy’s sight as the Green line took on an even brighter glow.

Remy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jiminy Crickets! And he’d had such high hopes that Lacey would be the breakthrough to Virge’s reluctance in joining the Fatherhood Club. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, you fuc--freaking scaredy cat!” Not that he had any personal experience in it, but he’d seen it. Seen how happy the men were to become fathers once the bond was established. “I don’t make mistakes in this. You’d be an excellent Dad no matter your doubts. I wouldn’t be here talking to you otherwise!”

“You don’t know that!!” Virgil retorted, a tint of panic to his voice. “You can’t! How can I believe some guy showing up with a random baby in his arms--you could have kidnapped her for all I--”

“You’ve seen my wings.” Remy interrupted, spreading them out and flapping them for emphasis. “Obviously I’m not exactly some guy. I don’t kidnap babies. I rescue them from bad situations and take them to better ones. That’s what a S.T.O.R.K. does!”

“I can’t--”

“You’ll have to at some point.” Remy snapped. “I’m going to keep coming to you until you do. You do realize that right? You’re marked for Fatherhood and if it’s not me that can get that through your thick skull it will be a different S.T.O.R.K. who does.”

Virge violently shook his head. “No. I’m not--”

“A good Dad. I know. I’ve heard.” Remy rolled his eyes, snapping his wings shut as he turned away to follow the green line, adjusting as Lacey twisted in his arms trying to look behind them. “I still don’t believe you.” But it was obvious by how the purple line had faded to nearly nothing that Lacey wouldn’t end up as the Edgelord’s kid.

A pity. The dude could use some serious laughter in his life. Bright and bubbly like little Lacey’s. Too bad he was apparently immune to her charm.

“...Where are you going?”

Remy fought back the urge to snarl. “To take Lacey here to her next best option, which funnily enough is Lily’s parents so are you coming with me to reunite them or not?” At least he already knew that Lily would get along with Lacey. One hurdle gone in that regard.

Virge made a noise of surprise. “They lost their child and you’re taking another to them---”

“Mistakes happen.” Remy said shortly, glancing over his shoulder. “No one can be the perfect parent 24/7. It’s impossible. You get distracted at the wrong moment and walla your child has slipped away. Or you think someone else is watching them while they think you’re watching them and no one questions why they haven’t seen the kid recently. it---her parent line is still bright, Virge.” He looked away as Mr. Reluctant caught up and fell in step with him. “They aren’t horrible bad people just because they lost her tonight. They love her. No doubt about it.”

And if Cynical Gothica was so concerned about them and their parenting skills then he should have said YES to being the Dad to Lacey before his purple line had fizzled out!

Virge ducked his head, shoulders hunching as he brushed Lily’s hair out of her eyes. “...Okay.” He mumbled a dozen steps later. “But what if they--they loved--love her, but…but did something---what if something happened to hurt her? Badly? And they couldn’t--what if it’s not fix--fixable? What then? Would you really--”

Remy stopped just short of cresting the hill, wings prickling, goosebumps on his arms sending a chill through him as he turned back to Virge. This. He could sense. Was important.

“Mistakes happen, V.” He repeated in a softer tone. “Whatever mistake you think you’ve made that you think disqualifies you from ever becoming a Father…” He stretched out a wing, brushing the Emo’s cheek, causing him to look up, eyes so soft and vulnerable that it made Remy’s chest ache. “It’s not an unforgivable one. Again. I wouldn’t be here if it were.”

People changed. People could become better than they were. Whatever had happened in the Edgelord’s past wasn’t a deal breaker to the S.T.O.R.K.s. The three times he’d shown up in his presence had to be some sort of proof. He’d never heard of someone refusing parenthood before, but the fact that Remy kept returning, the fact that Virge kept coming up as an option in the first place, had to mean something.

V bit his lip, eyes troubled as he looked to Lacey then back to Remy, the purple ribbon connecting the two flickering like a sputtering candle. “I’m not--” He whispered.

Remy let out a slow breath, well aware that his wing was still touching his cheek, but unwilling to pull away just yet. “It’s something to think on, Virge O’Doom.” He said, voice still soft. “Once is a Chance, Twice a Coincidence, Thrice? It’s a Pattern. It’s just a matter of deciding if you’re ready when I come back a Fourth time.”

As much as he wanted to convince him and make it to work between Lacey and the Emo...the line had already fuzzed once. He didn’t want Virge to have any doubts in this.

“LILY?!” A shrill woman’s voice suddenly rang through the air, breaking the tension between them like a snapped wire. “LILY WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“LILYLOO?” A man called out, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Lily?! Has anyone seen my daughter?!”

Remy smirked, pulling his wing back and raising an eyebrow to Virge as Lily jerked upright at her name, nearly pulling free from his grip in the process. “See? Not bad parents.”

Virge drew in a visibly shaky breath, his arms tightening around the little girl. “Right.”

“MOMMY!” Lily cried, wiggling to get free. “DADDY!”

“We got her!” Remy called, using his wing to push Mr. Reluctant forward up the hill, pitching his voice so it would carry to the frantic parents. “Over here!” He raised his free hand, waving to draw their attention as he moved his other wing to cover Lacey, hiding her from their view for now.

“Oh, Lily!” Her mother rushed forward wild curly hair streaming behind her like a banner, pulling her free from Virge’s grip with little effort to smother her with kisses. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Lily wrapped her arms around her Mother, burying her head against her chest. “Sorry Momma,” She whimpered.

“Where was she?” Her father asked, hovering anxiously behind his wife. His fingers running through his daughter’s hair.

“By the bathrooms.” Virge said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “She was crying, so we---” He gestured to Remy and himself. “Were helping her find you.”

We? Nope nope. “Pretty sure that was all you.” Remy muttered under his breath, shifting as Lacey wiggled in his grip, trying to peer out from around his wing. He would have never been aware of the girl’s situation if Castlevania hadn’t taken the initiative. His job usually involved helping unloved kids. Not loved ones. Even if they were lost.

“Lily,” Her mother scolded in a soft tone, lifting up her chin. “You know you need one of us to go with you.”

The girl sniffed, eyes welling with tears. “But I’m a big girl! I can go by myself! I’m no baby.”

Grief flashed across the Mom’s face, one hand dropping to her stomach before quickly rising back to cradle the back of Lily’s head.

Ah. Remy straightened, light green dust swirling at his fingertips as recognition flashed through him. He’d seen that particular look hundreds of times before from mothers who’d lost a babe in the womb. He’d bet his sunglasses that the baby would have been the same age as little Lacey here had they survived to full term, hence why the line was so bright. Lacey could easily slip into the family like she’d always been a part of them.

“That may be.” Her husband said, taking the opportunity to pull Lily into his arms, squeezing her tight as he gave his wife a concerned look, his own eyes showing a hint of grief as well. “But you know how your mother worries about you.”

“So much, baby girl. So much. If I lost you too-” Her voice hitched as she abruptly cut off, bowing her head, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“But you didn’t.” Remy said soothingly as he moved closer to the family, fingers of his free hand twisting to scatter green dust around them so that any nosy viewers would stop paying attention now that the little family reunion was complete. “Everyone is safe and sound. No harm done.” He pulled back his wing back to reveal baby Lacey, purposely brushing his feathers along her neck, causing her to break into soft laughter, twisting in his arms from the tickling sensation.

The Mother looked up at the sound, mouth dropping open. “Oh.” She breathed, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes shimmering as she stared at Lacey. “She’s--”

“Cute right?” Remy asked, holding her out in an unspoken invitation to hold her.

Unlike Virge, the Scrooge of Fatherhood, hovering beside him, she didn’t hesitate. She reached out to gently take Lacey into her arms, a hidden weight vanishing from her shoulders as Lacey giggled, nuzzling her face against the Mother’s neck, tiny fingers gripping onto her shirt.

“She’s absolutely precious.” She murmured, pressing a kiss into her thick hair. “What’s her name?”

“Lacey.” Remy said simply, the tip of his wing stretching out to push the Father and Lily closer to them.

“Lacey.” The Father repeated, moving to her side, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his wife slowly rock the baby back and forth. “An L name.” He reached out, running a hand down Lacey’s back, causing the green line in Remy’s sight to flash twice indicating the parental bond had been accepted. “Just like Lily’s.”

Perfect. Remy exhaled, snapping out his wing to block Virge just as he tried to interrupt the moment.

Idiot.

Remy grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away as his wings fluttered, sending more light green sparks swirling away to settle around the newly expanded family, ensuring that Lacey would be able to bond with them in peace without further interruption.

Virge struggled, twisting in Remy’s grip, unable to break free as the first set of fireworks burst in the sky overhead. “That’s it?! You can’t seriously just--”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Can. Did. Bought the T-Shirt.” Or food. Could he still get his chicken strips if the fireworks had already started? Probably not. That was disappointing.

“Seriously?! You can’t just drop off a baby and leave!”

Funny. Remy pulled them to a stop at the bottom of the hill, mantling his wings so that Virge stood in his shadow. “I’m a S.T.O.R.K., Grimm Reaper. You do remember what that means right? Leaving babies on doorsteps is kinda the whole jig.”

Virge bristled, not at all intimidated. “But you just left her!”

Must be all those Mothman encounters. Remy crossed his arms. “In good hands, Virgeroo. Not all parents need me to stick around once I give them a child.” Thankfully. He hated dealing with the ones who had a million and six impossible questions they wanted answered. But he wasn’t actually going to leave little Lacey there just like that. What sort of S.T.O.R.K. would he be to literally just dump a child in a lady’s arms and leave?

He’d double back around to check in once he was sure Virge wouldn’t go try to find them and ruin everything.

“But!”

“No.”

EmoDramatic threw up his hands. “How will they explain this though? Going to a fireworks show with one child and coming home with two!”

Remy spread his arms, wiggling his fingers. “Maaagiic~.” He smirked, snapping his wings shut. “They can explain it however they want.” The bond would ensure that whatever reason they gave for suddenly having another child, it would be believed by those who heard it. “It’s not your concern.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing past him.

Not until Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad accepted his fate at least. And who knew when that would happen. Would his curiosity help spur him into taking that final step?

Virge whirled with him, fingers brushing his wing before landing on his arm, sending a shiver down Remy’s spine. “I don’t understand.”

“And you won’t, LolliPop.” Remy shrugged free from his grip, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Not until you say yes to Dadhood. That’s another thing you can think on until I see you next.” He gave his Edgelord a two fingered salute as he jumped into the air, shimmering dust whirling around him helping him to vanish from view as a series of green and purple fireworks exploded overhead.

To Be Continued.

#Meeting Virgil #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #STORK AU #Remy #Virgil Sanders #Sleep #Anxiety #implied neglectful parents tw #implied miscarriage tw

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chanluster · 4 years ago

Text

ann summers | {c} ; mild {f}

oneshot | 2.56K words

“ your best friend was weirdly terrified of lingerie, and you found it irritating yet adorable.”

c o n t e n t s >> a very flustered seungmin, constant clownery, mild fluff, mentions of sex toys but no usage, sexual innuendo, a lot of swearing, y’all basically make seungmin hella uncomfortable lmaoaoo

a / n >> inspired loosely by real events when my friends and i got kicked out of a sex shop for fucking around :’) ann summers is a lingerie and sex shop, in case y’all didn’t know!

back to masterlist

YOU FOUND YOURSELF SIGHING OUT MORE THAN YOU PHYSICALLY THOUGHT POSSIBLE.

“Seungmin,” You explained for the last time, ”They’re not going to come alive and bite you.”

The boy stood in front of you shot you an expression which actually doubted your statement. He hugged himself tighter, white hoodie bunching up at the waist, either to warm himself from the bitter London cold or shield himself from another threat.

Monsters displayed in the windows of Ann Summers.

These creatures that your best friend shied from hung delicately either on racks, or were boasted upon the slim mannequin bodices, intricate lacing and beadings accentuating the dark colours. Posters of models adorning the god-forbidden entity, posing seductively as they showed off the latest collection.

You rolled your eyes, and this time it hurt as they reached the insides of your mind.

“You actual pussy,” you jeered. “Every woman wears a bra you know. Or at least some point in her life.”

You raised your own chest a little higher, pointing towards the goods. “Even I’m wearing one right now.”

Seungmin’s face was a classic painting of disgust. “You didn’t have to tell me that,” he whined, almost hiding within the folds of his hoodie. “Look, I’ll wait here, you go and do your shopping.”

“But that’ll be boring if I do it alone!” You looked up at the sky, grey clouds engulfing the sun for hours. “And it’ll rain any moment now, I can’t let you stay outside.”

“I’d rather stay outside than step foot in that…” he glanced at the lingerie shop for a millisecond before hurriedly settling his eyes upon you. “That place.”

“You say it like it’s some twisted underworld.” You waved a hand towards the shop. “To women it is a chance of feeling sexy.

“And I wanna feel sexy, Seungmin.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at you. “Who for? The men on your lockscreen you cry over?”

Chuckling, he dodged your hand, nearly whacking him. “Watch it, dickhead,” you warned. “And it doesn’t have to be for a man. I want to feel hot for myself.”

“But ___, you’re already pretty,” he pleaded rather than declared, the tone making you suspicious. “You don’t need that lacey shit.”

“Are you saying that just so I don’t go inside the store? Because I will anyway, whether I’m going to buy something or not.”

A few moments passed after the words left your mouth, and you watched his brows furrow irritably.

“Nevermind, you’re mad fucking ugly.”

“Hey!”

This time, your hand managed to hit home, earning a yelp from Seungmin, who rubbed his arm in pain.

“Now stop bitching and come inside,” you ordered, ready to take him by his sweater paws, but he stayed rooted to the cobblestone street.

“I’m not going in,” he muttered.

Perhaps hitting his head would get him to comply.

Before you could carry out your sentence, thunder reigned upon the ears of the shoppers and other citizens out, including you two who jumped from the rather loud sound.

You felt a drop of water hit your head. Then, saw another fall upon Seungmin’s face.

One drop. Two drops. Four drops.

Until drops became showers, and you started towards the Ann Summers building, dragging the hesitant boy along and rushed under the cover of the entrance.

You shot a glare as you slowed down, ignored by the boy watching the showers of rain grow angrier. “I told you this would happen.”

He turned, eyes now desperate. “Please don’t make me go in there, ___.”

“Look, this isn’t normal. You gotta learn to be comfortable with seeing bras and pants and sex toys—”

“Wait what? Sex toys?!” He backed away out of cover, and came running back when he felt the icy rain. “No way am I going in there now. You’re on your own.”

“Seungmin!” You exclaimed, and with his surprise, you took the golden opportunity to grab his sweater-cuffed hands, and with the other hand pushed the doors open as you pulled him inside with you.

You looked up at your surroundings, a whimper sounding from behind you.

It was an explosion of dark pink in the background, complimentary with black railings and racks as thousands of different pieces of lingerie hung, stacked and modelled before you, a full colour blast and wild designing. Lacing you had never seen before accentuating body suits, stockings promising brilliant bedroom results and everything naughty you could ever think of presented on a silver plate to the customer.

The store knew you sought pleasure, and made sure to offer it in an infinite ways and possibilities.

It made Kim Seungmin nearly scream.

“I’m going right now—!” he turned on his heel, but you successfully grabbed onto the hood, yanking him back to your side.

“No time for your whining, buddy.” You stared at the sexual haven, excited to uncover what it offered. “Let’s buy some motherfucking bras!”

“Oh dear God,” he could only murmur.

Batting your hand off the hood, he crossed his arms as he miserably followed you around, not leaving his eyesight from the carpeted floor. You, on the other hand, relished in the polished lingerie store, assessing each new piece in each hot collection, feeling like a proper woman. Of course you had some nice underthings for yourself, but there are always times where you wished you possessed something fancier, something with a little black lace and pants which were tied up at the sides. It seemed awfully silly saying all those little wishes to your best friend, but it was what you truly felt.

You just wanted to feel...nice.

“Seungmin, you do know no one is going to judge you for looking around with me.” You studied a certain two piece, a little too big for your breasts. “I think I’d judge you more for constantly looking down. It’s like you’ve already done something vile.”

“Don’t say that,” he grumbled. “I just don’t want anyone thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“No one’s going to think that,” you assured him. “Just don’t sniff the bras or shit like that. That would definitely get you kicked out.”

“I wasn’t even thinking of that, sick bitch.” He slid a little closer to you, wary of the other shoppers walking, assessing by. “Whatever, I’ll just wait for you.”

You let your lips curve into a malicious smirk. “But Seungmin, I wanted your opinion on a few things.”

The boy’s devastation nearly made you cackle. “No fucking way are you going to show me what you want.”

You gave into your wishes, laughing shamelessly at the blush rising in his cheeks. “Nah, I’m not that sadistic. Actually, I already know what I need, but I’m gonna take a while, so…” your knowing smile remained. “You can search around for yourself if you like.”

Those little cheeks blushed harder. “Shut up.”

Whistling, you only shrugged, walking past the lingerie in a slow stroll. “Whatever you say, buddy! And remember.” You glanced back, eyes dancing. “There is nothing to be scared of in here.”

You continued your search for your specific sized bras, collecting a few and hanging them upon your arm as you browsed, Seungmin close behind, ready to bolt out of the shop at any moment. Every so often a scandalous underwear would be shown off upon the shelves, and you’d pick out a piece, waving it in front of the boy and watch him scurry away from it as if it were a poisonous creature.

It made your insides sing at the thought of his reaction when he saw the contents further down the shop. You were sure he would pass out.

“Okay, Minnie,” You started, walking towards the far end of the room. “I’ve picked out a few things and am just going back there.”

“Hold up!” He sprang into a little jog, hastily avoiding the lingerie and stopping right next to you. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“You were the one dying to stay away,” you reminded him, already catching sight of Seungmin’s final doom. “Now come here, I need to find myself one more thing.”

Taking his sweater paw, you lead him out of the lingerie section, a pink wall separating the contents behind the other side. A doorway was present, and you entered through it, the biggest, dirtiest grin adorning upon your lips.

You read out the sign, already feeling Seungmin go statue-still.

“Sex toys!” You declared.

And heard your best friend’s response.

“JESUS ON A FUCKING MARATHON—”

You let out a gasp. Never before had you seen him this frightened, and you’ve been through a hundred theme parks with him. You’ve seen how this idiot had screamed his voice dead at rollercoasters.

“Seungmin—” you started, but with a jolt you noticed he had wrenched his hood over his head, pulling at the strings so all you could see were his eyes, angry as the thunder crashing outside in the sky.

“What are you doing here—!” he mumbled into the opening of his hoodie, but you shut him up with your hand, shushing him.

“Look, we’re technically not allowed to be in here, so shut up.” You turned around once more to the sex toys, proudly being shown upon the shelves. The dildos were the main attraction, catching your eye with the vibrant colours, different sizes and special editions being listed on their tags.

Your best friend looked frantically around, making sure there were no employees around to catch you both. “I hate you so much,” he guttered, which only made you smile.

You dashed to the shelves, observing one brilliantly pink dildo, veins and all carved into the plastic. “Oh my God, Minnie, look!”

The disgust on Seungmin’s face made you pick up the object, assessing the little details engraved upon it. “It says it’s eight inches.” Your eyes widened. “Eight inches!”

“You better put that back, then,” the boy drawled, still not loosening the strings of his hoodie. “That shit’ll kill you.”

“You’re just mad you don’t pack that much.” You obliged, putting the dildo back. “Didn’t know cocktail sausages were designed based on your dick.”

“My dick is not small,” he argued. When he saw your knowing smirk, though, he visibly shrunk.

“Oh yeah?” You walked on, cackling. “Keep talking shit, Minnie, but I can’t see any bulge.”

“Oh my God-” he immediately yanked his hoodie lower, as red as a tomato. “Stop!”

“Don’t worry, bud,” you sang out, going deeper into the aisles. You’ll find a lovely girl who will look past your 3-incher.”

Seungmin only had his eyes on you, blushing even more. “fuck you, ____.”

His thoughtful comment was ignored, skipping past various sizes of anal beads, magic wands and other innovative little creations, surprised to find so much range. You knew you would probably never use these objects, but the idea of people trying to spice up their sex lives with all this was insane in your head.

It was too bad you and Seungmin were pain-stakingly virgin.

You were about to call exit when your eyes stopped on a certain invention, and your mouth dropped.

“What is that?”

You quickly picked it up, assessing its indigo, snake-like bodice, veins engraved all over with two heads on either sides. Laughing, you raised it to get your best friend’s attention.

“Look at this!”

Seungmin came over, took one glance at what you held, and turned a straight 180 degrees.

“Wait, wait!” You grabbed onto his hood once more, pausing his escape.

“I am not going to admire a double-ended dildo-”

“But look at how innovative this is!” You turn him around, gripping the sex toy like its a snake ready to strike.

Even the boy’s eyes were ready to dagger you. “____, I swear on Jesus and his disciples, I’m going to get your head checked.”

“How cute would it be if we used it together?” you teased, trying to hand him the tip, but he dodged your hand.

“I’m going! Ciao! Adios! Au revoir!” he crowed, finished with your tom-foolery, and leaving the sex toy’s section.

“No, Seungmin, wait!” You called after him, double-ended dildo still in hand, and trying to catch up to his rapid retreat.

You were about to fall into step beside him when a woman stopped you both.

When the two of you saw the Ann Summers tag on her blouse, and a rather interrogative expression, you both exchanged glances, yours a little more sheepish than his.

“What were you kids doing in the back section?” she asked, hands on her hips.

You could feel the nerves radiating off Seungmin’s body, so you opened your mouth, saying the first words that touched your tongue.

“My friend and I were, uh, at the back...trying things out.”

Suddenly, a laugh escaped your best friend.

The employee looked at the lingerie on your one arm, and the double-ended dildo in your other hand. Then she raised a groomed brow at you.

Your cheeks flushed aggressively, and with further surprise heard Seungmin’s chuckling grow louder.

“Children are strictly prohibited in the sex-toys section,” she scolded, regarding the shopping in your arms. “You can still buy the bras, but the other thing…”

“I’ll put it back right now!” you declared, eyes wide as your best friend’s laughter boomed across the shop. You hurried back in the erotica section, dumping the dildo among its brethren and returning to your surrender spot.

The attendant then took your remaining items and scanned them in, ushering you to the till. You paid the woman what was due, and took the black shoppings, exiting the shop hastily with a near-hysterical Seungmin at your heels.

The London rain had softened to a light drizzle when you burst out of Ann Summers, getting irritated with the continuous howling, and at last you whirled around, ready to shut him up when you stopped.

Your best friend’s hood was pulled over, and he bent forward, soft locks bobbing as he laughed out his soul, eyes disappearing within his grin. The sound of the rain harmonised with his melodious voice, and you watched, mouth parted in awe.

You had seen Seungmin laugh a million and two times. It was always after you faced the consequences of your frequent fuck-ups - just like this one. However, looking at him now, finally calming his roaring, toothy grin still on display, there was something quite fantastical in his mirth that made your heartbeat run fast - faster than you when returning that damned double-ended dildo.

“I hate you!” your best friend declared to London, smiling at you.

You could only return that pure happiness. “I hate you too,” you replied, heart still beating rapidly.

He finally strolled up to you, eyeing the black shopping bag. “You deserve that scolding.”

“I know,” you agreed, turning towards the street, another notorious shop in sight. “Let’s do it again.”

Seungmin shot you an incredulous look. “You already know I’m never stepping foot in Ann Summers again.”

“I don’t mean Ann Summers, Minnie,” you said, staring at the other shop. The next destination of trouble.

The boy followed your line of sight, and his joy nearly vanished. His eyes darted to you, disbelief in his expression.

“No, you’re fucking not.”

But you only stuck your tongue out at him and ran towards the building, you now being the one laughing.

Seungmin only rolled his eyes, a small smile escaping his lips when he looked at you and followed your footsteps, right into the Victoria Secret building.

#stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids #kim seungmin #stray kids fluff #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #stray kids crack

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ryik-the-writer · 4 years ago

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THE AUDACIOUS STORYBROOKE MIRROR ADVICE COLUMNIST (WEDNESDAY PAPER EDITION) In which Lacey French is a smutty advice columnist for the Storybrooke Mirror.

Ch. 3: Lacey proposes a team-up and bantering ensures

A03

Gold tried to bury his guilt as he paced around his home, desperate to get his conversation with Lacey French out of his mind.

He shouldn’t have said what he said. He hadn’t meant what he said. But that hardly mattered; he’d realized that the second he saw the hurt on Lacey’s face.

That was hardly the way to act around someone he’d been in love with for years.

But he was a coward, he knew this in his bones. The word had been thrown at him for decades, by his abusive parents, his fellow soldiers during his day in the service, even his ex-wife.

It was odd, the way a word follows one around like bad gum on ones shoe. It was even stranger how true it became after a while.

“What are we going to do about this?”

He should have told her there and then what they could do about it. He could have let her into his house, offered her a cup of tea and explained the email he sent her in a drunken daze, as well as the feelings behind it.

But instead he’d snarled his teeth and turned her away, as he seemed to do everyone.

Few could phase through the icy wall he surrounded himself with. Jefferson Hatter, a local tailor, Gold’s occasional business partner and certified nutter, would walk through glass if provoked, and would climb that wall to get to Gold when he felt like it, namely his liquor cabinet, but kept his distance just the same.

Then there was David Nolan, Storybrooke’s “nice guy” who tried to be friends with every single person in town. However a kind word or a hello when their paths crossed in town was as far as he would go, as he knew the consequences of getting too close to the town monster.

There were a few others, tenants who had polished records of getting their rent in on time, and thus were civil, abet a bit cold.

Truth was, Gold didn’t know how to let people in. What could he do with other people, let alone a beautiful creature like Lacey French?

Pushing her away was the logical thing to do, he decided as he began straightening up his living room. He even nodded to the idea.

She’d forget about him, find some striking fellow who deserved her, and he could go back to admiring her afar, after he completely disconnected his email, that is.

It was the perfect decision, he thought, and would set off a lifetime of silence, but it would be worth it to spare Lacey from his sting.

He thought the decision final until there was another, very familiar knock on the door, and a new course of fate was struck.

He was shocked to find Lacey back at his door, not even half an hour after he sent her on her way.

“Miss—“

“Zip it,” Lacey ordered, and Gold found his tongue heavy as lead.

Lacey examined him again, noting how she met his eyes in her heels. The extra height gave her a boost of confidence. She feared Gold as much as she feared Keith Nottingham or Sydney Glass, but Gold had a bit more leverage on her livelihood. Not to mention, with all that he had revealed with the email, there was a softness there she didn’t want to harm.

She’d come for his help, after all, not further put a strain between them.

She’d even let go of his earlier comment, only if he helped her, that is.

“Look,” she began. “Let’s start over from earlier. Thanks for the email, I thought it was cute, blah blah blah.”

Gold gripped his cane. “Your point?”

“It’s…the kind of material I need.” Lacey admitted, feeling woefully embarrassed to admit her own lack of skill. “And I was wondering if, possibly, you could do it again.”

“Do…what again?”

“Write another email, one’s that sensational but clean, and give or take 100 words.”

Gold stared at her, honestly unable to grasp her concept of thought.

“Are you asking me to write for the paper?” he inquired, the question coming out as a cruel scoff.

“No,” she shot back. “Not exactly…” she huffed, hating him. “The truth is I can’t write fluff, but I need a fluff piece for Wednesday’s paper … and you seemed to have that skill.”

A dark smirk tugged at his mouth.

Push her away.

“So your telling me you can’t do your job, Miss French,” he laughed, and his heart clenched as he watched her cheeks burn. “Your incompetence is not my problem.”

He started to close the door, believing the cruel words would be the end of the situation, but Lacey’s heeled shoe stopped him.

She leaned into him now, her blue eyes colder than the iceberg that struck the Titanic.

“Look, you pompous, little shit of a man,” she growled. “You can help me, or –“

“Or what?” Gold yelled. Instinctively, he fought off all threats, even if they came from the woman he currently had a burning fondness for. “You have no power over me, dearie. But me, I can have you homeless with the click of a pen, so I suggest you find someone else to pawn your duties onto.”

Lacey gulped. He’d revealed her one fear in all this. He could take so much from her, true. Losing her apartment could lead to her losing her job under the right circumstances, not to mention staying with someone with a space the same size as hers.

But somehow, Lacey didn’t see the frothing landlord intertwining with the love-struck admirer who sent her the email.

She try one more thing, and then she’d quit, she promised.

So she smirked and placed a hand on her hip, the same pose she took whenever she turned down Keith Nottingham or had to go head to head with Sydney.

“You’re not going to do shit,” she said, watching in glee as Gold’s expression changed to a flabbergasted one.

“I beg—“

“You have the hots for me, Gold,” she continued. “I have the proof on laptop. You’re not going to throw me on the street, not now.”

They were both quiet following Lacey’s observation, but the latter only hoped it was a correct one, and Gold didn’t call Sheriff Graham to cart her away.

Thankfully, Gold’s tight posture relaxed. She’d called his bluff, and now he was putty in her hands.

“Very well, Miss French.” He sighed in surrender. It would be her heart too, he decided.

“So, will you …” she trailed off, staring at him half-hopefully.

It wasn’t a good idea, he thought, but he had no leverage on her now. Nothing to scare her of push her away.

So he did the only thing he could do: he rolled his eyes and stepped aside.

Lacey shrieked in delight, practically dancing past him into his prison and sanctuary.

She gave a whistle at the first glance of his abode.

“Not bad,” she commented.

“I don’t need your input on my decorating, dearie,” he sighed. “Just…show me what you want.”

Lacey help back a dirty comment and instead inquired the whereabouts of his computer.

Gold slowly led her to his study, his face heating up when they went past his bedroom.

His computer was still on, humming away. Gold quickly closed his email, seeing Lacey smirk out of the corner of his eye, and stepped aside.

“Your turn,” he said.

Lacey popped her fingers and swirled his chair around, logging into her work email where dozens of inquiries on love and sex awaited.

She scrolled longingly past them to three of the tamer ones, including one she’d received an hour ago and hadn’t read yet. She opened them in new windows and eased back so Gold could see the screen.

“This is what I have to work with,” she sighed. “Help.”

Gold scoffed and leaned in as closely as he could without touching her. He swiped his glasses off the table, putting them on and glancing at each email, his attention getting particularly grabbed by the newest one.

“Dear Racy Lacey,” Gold read. “I recognize that this is hardly your expertise, but I’m not sure who else to turn to. I just found out a woman I once loved very much has passed away in my home country, and I’m torn whether to go to the funeral or not. Our separation was not a pleasant one, but there was still a great deal of love on my end. I know she must have built an entire life after us, and I don’t wish to infringe on her family’s grief, but I feel I must face this, less I regret it forever.

Please, Racy Lacey, what should I do?

Signed, Wooden-hearted Widower.

Gold and Lacey were quiet for a moment, the weight of the seriousness of the email hitting them both.

Lacey, of course, knew that the message was sent from Marco Booth, Storybrooke’s most notable carpenter and friendly face.

He was also known for being able to cook a mean Italian dinner and having a shaky relationship with his only son. He was an open book, or so Lacey thought. He must be comfortable revealing this part of his life to the public, even if only some of the town’s more investigative residents would catch on who the email originated from.

Still, why write her?

It was rare to not see him with Jimminy Cricket, the town shrink, a much more perfect candidate for this sort of subject.

“Maybe they’re too close.” She wondered allowed.

Gold looked down at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lacey waved him off. “What do you think, can you do something with this?”

Gold relaxed on the sofa near his desk, musing on the subject as Lacey swirled the chair to face him, anticipating his answer.

“Remind me again why you can’t do this yourself, your job at that?”

Lacey groaned. “Come on, Gold.”

He smirked lightly, taking her misery as a nice little slice of payback.

“Humor me, Miss French.”

“Gods,” Lacey cursed, leaning down so she could stare at the floor rather than his face (which was decently framed by his reading glasses, she dared added.)

“I’m not good with the fluffy stuff,” she relayed.

Gold frowned. “A man losing the love of his life hardly seems like “fluff,” as you say.”

“I mean the stuff outside of my expertise, romance and…”

“Sex,” Gold stated bluntly, pretending the very word itself didn’t affect him.

“Yep,” Lacey chuckled with a glance his way. “Giving people deep, meaningful advice on matters outside of that just doesn’t work for me. I don’t really know why but I don’t want people to get bad advice because of my…” she looked at him again, this time with a touch of malice. “Incompetence.”

Gold’s gaze waivered, ashamed for his earlier reaction.

“So, that’s why I need a bit of help, and no, I can’t go to one of my co-workers because it would look like I’m shrugging off my job.”

Gold nodded. Her motives were fairly innocent, and not too concerning. And to be fair, she could have done worse. Gold would admit that he did have quite the vocabulary, and could meet her requirements.

It was the emotional aspect of the job she was asking of him he feared he couldn’t handle.

Years of keeping so much emotion inside was dangerous. He was a boiler ready to blow, and she was the last person he wanted to see him in that state.

“So…” Lacey shrugged. “That’s my problem, Gold. What do you think?”

He thought, despite the risks, this was a golden opportunity, if you pardon the pun. He’d finally be able to spend time with her, truly get to know her, and test to see if these feelings of his were true or just a passing phase. Eventually, he would spare them both a good deal of grief.

He sighed. “Let’s form a rough draft and go from there.”

“Yes!” She yelped, spinning in his chair. “I owe you big!”

“We’ll see,” he replied, hiding his grin. “Now get serious.”

“Serious,” Lacey repeated, opening an email to herself to start typing.

“Back straight,” he ordered. “Legs uncrossed.”

“For Gods’ sake,” Lacey groaned.

“Focus,” Gold ordered, standing just behind her. “Now type after me. Dear Wooden-hearted Widower…”

“Dear Wooden-hearted Widower,” Lacey repeated in a childish tone.

Gold glared at her for a moment before continuing.

“It’s my barely expert advice that you stick to familiar lands and not take the trip—“

“First off, up yours,” Lacey hissed. “Secondly, what the hell do you mean he shouldn’t take the trip?”

Gold rolled his eyes. She was too young to understand the true pain of lost love, and too inexperienced to realize when it was appropriate to take a step back.

“Would you have him scratch at scars or heal on his own?”

“I’d have him face his demons and make peace!” Lacey fought back. “Running away from ones problem doesn’t do anyone a damn bit of good!”

“You asked for my help and I’m giving it to you. Write what I say or do it yourself.”

Lacey groaned, feeling cornered, and Lacey French snarled and bit and clawed when she was in a jam.

But this was a strategic battle, one she’d end up losing in some capacity, but she was striving to win gracefully no matter what.

“How about we meet in the middle?”

“What middle do we share?” Gold asked.

“We tell him to go and...stay guarded, I guess.”

Gold rubbed a hand over his face. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. Of course he and Lacey had completely different mindsets. She had a shred of humility, his had burned to a crisp years ago.

“If he goes to her funeral, he’ll only be hurt,” Gold concluded, leaning against his chair as he willed away thoughts that needed to remain buried.

“After all, there’s no greater pain than regret.”

Lacey watched him carefully, seeing that softer side that most of the town was certain didn’t exist.

Maybe this was too much for him. For all she knew he had some deep, dark past that was threatening to overtake the present.

She wasn’t one to get circulated in someone else’s business or to gossip openly, but damn she’d love to peak into his mind, into his past.

However, she had a job to do. One of the first things she was taught about journalism-wise was to distant herself emotionally from the subject. It made the job a lot easier.

“He’d regret things a lot more if he didn’t go,” Lacey commented. “Maybe it’s better to rip the band aid off.”

Gold accepted this, but held onto his restraint.

“He needs to be careful.”

“Let’s go again,” Lacey said with a snap of her fingers. “This time let’s be a bit more positive.”

Gold let out a rude noise but relented.

“Dear Wooden blah blah blah,” Lacey read, pausing to let Gold jump in.

“Should you…” Gold began, changing his mind. “You should pursue this endeavor with caution, as the past has a way of taking over the present if you become too engulfed in it.”

Lacey matched his words, listening with interest to his advice.

“Don’t expect a warm reception or even a lukewarm resolution…”

“That’s a little harsh,” Lacey muttered.

“However, you should expect to leave in peace, and I indorse planning your trip with this in mind.”

Lacey finished typing and waited for him to continue, but Gold went quiet. When she looked at him, he had a contempt look on his face, considering their work finished.

Lacey hummed and turned back to the computer.

“Good luck to you have a safe trip back.”

“No,” Gold spat. “Don’t add such a treacly ending like that. It’s tacky.”

“It shows we give a damn.”

“It’s out of place.”

“Oh my gods!” Lacey whined, typing out her signature and then sending the email to Cruella while Gold protested behind her.

“Well that’s just lovely, and incredibly dowdy,”

“It’s fine,” Lacey scoffed. Damn he stressed too much.

Gold snarled, muttering something about incompetence and newspapers.

“Fine, are we done?”

Lacey spun in his chair, giving him the same look she would give Glass when she was getting scolded.

“Come on, this wasn’t so bad.”

“You’re right, it was downright terrible, but it’s over now. I’ll see you out.”

Lacey frowned. She’d go with dignity, but not until she spoke her mind.

“You have the funniest way of charming the chick you have the hots for.”

Gold slapped the top of his cane. “Would you stop saying that, it’s unbecoming.”

Lacey clucked her tongue. She had him now.

“What would you call it then?” she challenged.

“Miss French—“

“Lacey, and just humor me.”

Gold wished the floor would give way. It was a miracle he was able to think though Lacey’s column with her being within five feet of him. Now he had to bear his soul to her in his own study.

“I would call it an attraction,” he admitted, hoping she’d leave before he could be truly humiliated.

“So yeah, you have the hots for me.”

“I like to think it’s a bit more than that.”

Lacey smirked, her lip running over her lip. She’d had men flaunt over her before, but this somehow was more genuine, more real. To have those affections come from someone as stoic as Gold was truly interesting.

It was flattering, though she wasn’t sure how to feel in return. Probably best to stick to the business arrangement for now.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a spot of fun in the meantime.

“How about a drink?” Lacey suggested.

Gold’s stomach flipped at the idea of alcohol. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

“So what, we need to celebrate,” she said, sauntering to him. “To our new relationship.”

Gold twitched, flustered at her closeness. “Relationship?”

“Well, after this I’m sure Glass will want me to do one of these once in a while, which means I’ll have to come back for your … assistance.”

Gold almost choked on his own gulp. So much for keeping her at distance.

“Gold,” she sighed, wrapping his free arm in hers and leading him downstairs. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #golden lace #lacey french #rumplestiltskin #ryik's fics

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chazz-anova · 4 years ago

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77. “There was never a choice.” For Veronica and John perhaps?

ooh hell yeah, thank you lovely!! 💙💙 I’m gonna do an AU where Veronica joins Eden’s Gate for this prompt 👀

Moonlight washed over the woods, bathing the land in silver. Among the pines surrounding a large lake- not a creature stirred. Gentle waves lapped at the bare feet of Veronica Rook where she stood on the shore of the lake.

Scantily clad in a lacey white nightdress, the woman stared into the murky depths that beckoned to her. Goosebumps rose on her exposed flesh as a chill blew across the water. V wrapped her arms around herself and wondered how much longer she must wait.

Her question was quickly answered moments later, when a pair of arms encircled her waist and a head rested on her shoulder. Without turning, Ronnie murmured “You’re here...” and relaxed into the welcome warmth of the figure behind her.

“Are you ready, darling?” The low rumble of John Seed’s voice reached her, his warm breath tousling her blonde locks and caressing her neck.

Veronica bit her lower lip apprehensively and took a deep breath before responding, “Am I doing the right thing, John?” She thought of all her friends in the Resistance that she would be abandoning to join the Project. All the people who had put their faith in her, all that she had built that she was about to cast away.

The Baptist sighed and took one of her hands into his own, turning her to face him. With his other hand he cupped her cheek and brought her closer as he murmured, “There was never a choice, love. This is your destiny.”

The former Deputy nuzzled his hand, relishing in his touch. The memories of the countless times the Resistance had used her, friends or not, hurt as they raced to the forefront of her mind. All the times she had killed for them to aid their cause to no benefit of her own. How many innocent believers had she murdered for those people, she wondered? Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered “You might be right, I just don’t know anymore...”

As one tear started to trail down- John caught and wiped it away with a finger. V’s head began to fall and he brought her gaze up with a hand under her chin. “You know what’s right. Join me, join Joseph... help us save people. Truly save people, Veronica.” He insisted. The man pulled her closer, his lips meeting hers in the barest brush of a kiss.

The woman wrapped her arms around him, deepening the kiss and pressing her body against him. In the vast desert of her pain, his embrace seemed like a lush oasis. The thought of resistance seemed futile, she couldn’t take much more.

John pulled her closer, slowly dipping her lower to the waiting waters. “Surrender to me..” He demanded, maintaining intimate eye contact.

Ronnie nodded- pressing her forehead to his and taking a deep breath. She knew there was no other choice. “I surrender.” The words were uttered and the die was cast.

The man lowered her into the water then; as he watched his conquest submerged, he could do nothing but smile at this victory.

Beneath the water, V felt a serene sense of peace settle over her. She was starting life anew, her prior sins no longer burdening her. As she held her breath and felt true mortality beneath the waves of the lake, Veronica accepted her fate.

Only a moment later, the Baptist lifted her from the water. “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows. Be grateful to those who have caused you harm, for it is these sufferings that have led you to me.” He dipped a thumb in the water and brushed it on her forehead. “In the name of the Father, I anoint you as a Herald of Eden’s Gate. A leader, a protector of the truest cause.” John proclaimed.

Beads of water dripped off of her soaking body, and with them fell any reluctance. Rising out of the water- the Herald was born anew. “Thank you, John... I pledge myself to the Project, and promise to uphold the will of the Father.” Veronica raised a hand to caress his cheek, secure in her decision.

John kissed her once again, and thus a new regime was set into motion. Resistance be damned.

#im sorry this took me so long!!!#i hope this is decent #thank you for the prompt 💜💜💜#veronica rook #john seed #far cry 5 #fc5 #my writing

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years ago

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The Once & Future Queen Pt.33

Impenetrable Forest. Recent Past. (Attempting to find their own way out of the Impenetrable Forest, Merlin and Merida walk side by side along the forest path.) Merida: "They're holding Anastasia in the tower and there's no way they haven't used magical protections." Merlin: "I understand, you were right to come find me." Merida: (Glancing backwards:) "What about Guinevere and the others?" Merlin: "If I can speak with Morgana without risking their lives, then that's better for everyone." Merida: "Guinevere believes Morgana can change, doesn't she? (Merlin nods:) Then she's a fool. Morgana is too far gone." Merlin: "I used to think like you. I thought that the only way to destroy the Darkness was to kill the Dark One. Emma and Regina showed me there was another way. As old as I am, I have yet to find a more powerful force in this world than love. No one is a lost cause, Merida, but it will always depend on whether a person is willing to accept the chance to be saved." Merida: "Well, in Morgana's case, I'll believe it when I see it." Merlin: (Chuckles:) "Hopefully you won't have to wait too long." (They continue walking until they arrive at a clearing to find a man waiting for them. When he turns, Merlin is shocked to see the man from his vision standing before him.) Mordred: "Good evening, Merlin."

Storybrooke. Flynn's Barcade. Present. (It's couples night at the arcade and a plethora of Storybrooke's most loved-up pairings have taken advantage of the two for one drinks on offer. While the Stiltskins and Joneses play a friendly game of pool, everyone gathers around the table to watch.) Hook: (Watching Belle sink yet another ball into the corner pocket:) "Hey, I thought Lacey was the one who knew how to shoot pool?" Belle: "She was, but pool's not that hard. (Lines up another shot:) It's just basic geometry. For example, if I hit this ball against the cushion at an angle, then it will bounce off at that angle as well but, if I give the ball a bit of spin... (Belle strikes the ball with spin causing it to bounce off the cushion and pot another ball in the corner pocket:) then that happens." Hook: "Well if you're going to use math to play pool you're gonna take all the fun out of the game." Belle: "Oh I don't think so. (Lines up another shot and looks directly at him:) I mean, I'll always enjoy counting the money I win from you, Killian." (Belle strikes the ball, pots the eight ball and wins the game. Much to Regina's drunken delight.) Regina: (Laughing, to Maleficent:) “Your man just got taken to school.” Maleficent: “Just as long as I don’t have to pick up a cue, I’m fine. (Looking around:) Lord knows when this place was last given a thorough cleaning.” Regina: (Chuckles:) “It can’t be any dirtier than the Dragon’s Lair back when it was a sex dungeon.” Maleficent: “It wasn’t a ‘sex dungeon’. It was safe haven for those who wanted to play out their inner most fantasies and-” Regina: “Perversions.” Maleficent: “Well, you would know about that, dear.” Regina: (Nods vigorously:) “Yes I would!”

(Watching from across the bar, Emma smiles as Regina almost topples from her bar stool before being steadied by Rumplestiltskin.) Alice: (Taking a seat next to her:) "So, how did your travels across the realms go? Did you find the answers you wanted?" Emma: "Sort of. We listened to a lot of different opinions, heard about their experiences and I guess we're just gonna take things as they come." Alice: "Maria is so lucky to have you and Regina as parents. I know if mine were still around they'd have trouble understanding about all this magic business. Of course, I didn't realise I even had magic until much later in life and by then it was too late to worry about what other people might think about it. I mean, we're all different, aren't we?" Emma: (Smiles:) "We certainly are." Alice: "Just promise me one thing, no matter how it turns out with Maria, don't lock her in a tower somewhere?" Emma: "Oh, I promise." (At that moment, the door to the arcade swings open and Merida rushes through it, causing people to scatter in her wake as she makes her way towards the bar.) Merida: "So here's where the retirement party is huh? Playing games and getting blind drunk at happy hour while Morgana's still out there hatching her evil schemes!" Emma: "Merida, what-" Merida: "She's taken Anastasia! She's locked her up in some bloody tower and unless you lot get up off your arses and help me, that's where she'll spend the rest of her days!" Alice: (Stands:) "A tower, you mean my tower?" Merida: "Ach, no. Some other tower out on the desolate plains surrounded by the Impenetrable Forest." Rumplestiltskin: "The Dark Tower." Alice: (Mutters to herself:) "Well mine wasn't exactly cheery most of the time." Regina: (To Rumplestiltskin:) "You've heard of such a place?" Rumplestiltskin: (Nods:) "It's where the High Priestesses would take their initiates." Merida: "Aye and that's why there's no time to lose." Regina: "Well wait a minute, why did we go to the trouble of freeing Merlin if-" Merida: "Merlin's dead." (The mood in the room sobers immediately. Regina looks over to Emma while Rumplestiltskin bows his head.) Impenetrable Forest. Recent Past. (Merlin and Merida stand watching Mordred who waits patiently.) Merlin: "Wait here. (Merida does not move as Merlin makes his way down into the valley to stand before Mordred:) I had a vision we'd be meeting soon. I must say it concerned me at the time but now I see there are no flames that surround us and you have no sword in your hand with which to run me through." Mordred: "Perhaps it is not I you should be worried about."

(Catching Mordred's quick glance back up the hill, Merlin spins around to see Merida release an arrow from her bow. Using his magical abilities, Merlin is able to catch the arrow but not without it first slicing his palm.) Merida: (Dropping her bow:) "I'm sorry, Merlin! Mordred told me that if I didn't do what he said, that he'd kill Anastasia." Merlin: "It's all right, Merida. I understand. (He tosses the arrow away:) No harm done." Morgana: (Approaching from the other side of the valley:) "I wouldn't be so sure. (Merlin turns toward her:) If it's just a scratch, heal thyself, Merlin. (Keeping his eyes trained on Morgana, Merlin raises his uninjured hand and attempts to heal the cut on his opposite palm. To his dismay, he finds that he cannot:) That was no ordinary arrow. It was laced with the blood of the Gean Canach. (Merlin's eyes widen:) Your magic is gone, Merlin." Merida: "No. Merlin, I swear I didn't know!" (Morgana knocks Merida flying backwards with a careless flick of her wrist and stands before Merlin.) Morgana: "What a joy it is to see you, Merlin. Look at you, not so tall and mighty now." (She conjures a sword into her hand.) Merlin: "Magic or not, I am still immortal. No mortal blade can kill me." Morgana: "This is no mortal blade. Like Lancelot's, it was forged in a Dragon’s breath." Merlin: (Realisation dawns:) "Morgana, wait. It does not have to end this way." Morgana: "You're wrong. The prophesy gives me no choice." Merlin: "Morgana-" (Morgana stabs him and Merlin starts to feel the effect of the blade. Mordred looks on while Morgana holds Merlin as he dies. Mordred steps forward to help her lower Merlin to the ground and Morgana withdraws the sword.) Morgana: (Whispered, almost reverently:) "Goodbye, Merlin."

The Dark Tower. Present. (The spirit of Uther Pendragon continues to listen while his daughter recounts her victory.) Uther: "You killed Merlin?" Morgana: "I vanquished the most powerful sorcerer the world has ever known. Now there is no one who can stand in my way." Uther: (Stands:) "Then you truly are the mistress of your own destiny. If you are finished torturing me, you must let me go, for I can no longer bear to see the creature you've become. (Morgana smirks and then nods:) Despite everything, I will always love you, Morgana." (Morgana says nothing as Uther fades from sight. However, Morgana is barely able to take a breath before the door to the room bursts open and she is attacked by the knights of Camelot. When Bedivere charges, Morgana uses her powers to throw him aside. Gwaine and Leon meet the same fate before Lancelot enters, holding the dragon’s breath sword in his hand.) Morgana: "And to think I was told that sword wasn't meant for me." Guinevere: (Enters, stands in front of Lancelot:) "It isn't. Please, Morgana, you must listen to me." Morgana: "So you can fill my head with more of your empty promises?" Guinevere: "I give you my word. Come peacefully and no harm will come to you." (Morgana looks around the room to see the knights getting back to their feet and Lancelot's grip on the sword tighten.) Morgana: "You expect me to believe that while your boyfriend wields that sword?" Guinevere: (Turns to him:) "Lower your weapon, Lancelot." Lancelot: "You know I can't do that, Guin."

Morgana: "Then you give me no choice." (Upon raising her hands to strike, Morgana is blown backwards by a blast of magic that hits her square in the chest. Crashing against the wall, Morgana falls to the floor, unconscious. Lowering their hands, Emma and Regina move further into the room, much to the astonishment of everyone else.) Guinevere: "Emma. Regina. How did you-" Emma: "We heard you could use a hand." Guinevere: (Looks over at Morgana:) "Is she..." Regina: "She'll be fine. We need her restrained before she wakes. Here. (Regina kneels next to Morgana and places a cuff on her wrist:) That should block her magic, at least for the time being." Emma: “Great, now where the hell is Anastasia?”

Elsewhere in the Dark Tower. (Anastasia continues to rock Elyan's body in her arms when she hears footsteps behind her.) Mordred: "The plan was a success. (Anastasia looks up at him:) Merlin lies dead in the Impenetrable Forest. His body left to rot until the wolves gorge on his carcass and bathe in his blood." Anastasia: (Stands, backing away from him:) "Then I'm of no further value to you." Mordred: "True. But circumstances are changing rapidly within this tower and you may still prove useful as a bargaining chip." (Mordred lunges at Anastasia, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her forward. At that moment, a loud cracking sound can be heard all around them as the roof of the tower is torn off. Releasing Anastasia momentarily, Mordred turns and looks up into the face of Alice's Troll as he stares down at them. Mordred draws his sword but it is shot out of his hand by an arrow. Scrambling out of the way while more arrows are fired towards him, Mordred watches the Troll lower Merida into the room. Grabbing Anastasia once more, Mordred pulls a dagger from his boot and holds it against the blonde's neck.) Merida: (Still standing in the Troll's large hand:) "Let her go!" Mordred: "She's useless to me now. She's served her purpose. I have no reason to keep her alive. (Knowingly:) But I think perhaps you do. Now you’re going to let me walk out of here, or she dies. Simple enough?” Anastasia: “Don't do it, Merida!” Merida: “He'll kill you.” Anastasia: “He'll kill me anyway. You can’t let him escape.” Mordred: “Let me pass or watch her die!” (While the standoff continues, Anastasia’s gaze is caught by a vision of her mother standing in the corner of the room, seemingly only visible to her eyes. Rapunzel smiles and covers her heart with her hand, nodding. Instinctively, Anastasia realises what she must do.)

(Returning her attention to Merida, Anastasia locks eyes with her and gives the redhead a nod of her own.) Mordred: “I mean it, I’ll cut her throat, I swear to-” (Merida hesitates until she sees Anastasia mouth the words ‘Trust me’, her chin raised defiantly. With tears in her eyes, Merida releases the arrow, watching as if in slow motion as it travels through the air, piercing Anastasia through the heart and coming to a halt embedded in Mordred’s shoulder. The man drops the dagger and stumbles backwards against the wall while Anastasia crumples to the floor. Mordred takes the chance to vanish from the tower while Merida jumps out of the Troll’s hand and sinks to her knees beside Anastasia.) Anastasia: (Weakly:) “Merida...” Merida: “I’m so sorry, Ana... I don’t know what I was thinking.” Anastasia: “It’s all right, there wasn’t anything else you could do.” Merida: (Pressing her hand to Anastasia’s wound in an attempt to staunch the blood:) “It’s my fault. I never should’ve gotten you involved in all this.” Anastasia: (Shakes her head:) “Getting involved in magic to begin with, that was the start of all my troubles.” Merida: “Isn’t there anything we can do... A spell or... (Merida looks down at her hand to see the blood slowly retreating back inside Anastasia’s chest:) What the hell?” Anastasia: (Looks down:) “Well, would you look at that?” Merida: “Are you doing that?” Anastasia: (Shakes her head:) “No, I... (Thinks:) I think it’s my mother.” Merida: “What?” Anastasia: “My mother’s heart. She must’ve protected it somehow before she gave her life for mine. I think it’s repairing itself.” Merida: “Well you could’ve told me sooner!” Anastasia: (Laughs:) “I didn’t know... I still don’t. I’m only guessing here.” Merida: “Then how do we know for sure?” Anastasia: “Kiss me.” Merida: “Ana, what-” Anastasia: “Just shut up and kiss me, will you?” (Anastasia pulls Merida in for a kiss and a rainbow of colour illuminates the room.) Merida: (When they part:) “Was that...?” Anastasia: (Smiles:) “True Love’s Kiss? Yeah, I think it was. So how do you feel about that?” Merida: “If it’s true well then... I think my life just got made.” Anastasia: (Beams:) “Mine too.” (Falling into each other’s arms, they kiss once more while the Troll stares down at them, wiping a tear from his eye.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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lakinda5654 · 5 years ago

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Stains of Wine

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One-Shot story of Loki x Reader. NSFW. This is my first one-shot, so please let me know if you like it.

Contains: Smut. All the Smut. So much smut. Dirty talk, dom/sub

Word Count: 2,806

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“Fuck!” you curse as the entire tray of red wine spills onto your white shirt and apron, the glasses falling to the floor, many of them shattering. Whoever just bumped into you was definitely at fault, as you had been walking straight without turning when they backed into you.

“Watch where you’re going...” you mutter as you kneel to the floor to begin picking up the shards of glass. You said it mostly for self-satisfaction, not loudly enough for anyone at this A-List party to hear.

“I was.” The voice is smooth and deep.

Upon hearing a response to your comment, you look up, ready to apologize profusely... no one was supposed to hear that and you could easily be fired for such an attitude. But as you look up, the man kneels down in front of you.

He is one of the most attractive men you had ever laid eyes on. He isn’t stereotypically attractive- not like Captain America or any other of the men at this boring party. He is pale, but with jet black hair that reaches his shoulders. His entire suit matches that aesthetic, with not a drop of color but black to be found. The only colorful thing about him is his eyes- which pierce through your gaze in emerald green. He’s vaguely familiar...

You force yourself to stop staring. “I’m sorry sir, I was just- talking to myself.”

“Oh- so you didn’t notice me intentionally back into you? Oh come now, I know you’re more observant than that darling.”

You stop your delicate hands cleaning up the shards of sharp glass for a moment. “You... you meant to run into me?” you ask him in confusion as you try to avoid being stepped on by the masses of dress shoes and heels making their way around you and your mess.

He lets out a breathy, yet sexy chuckle. “Indeed I did...” he said it slowly, in a tone that expressed satisfaction... as if he was being rewarded for his efforts. You look up to see his devilish smile, and his eyes staring shamelessly at your wine covered breasts.

Shit. You recall what you’re wearing... the catering company’s uniforms are so damn thin. The only bra you could wear under them without being seen was a thin bralette, and with the cold wine sticking to your skin and giving you chills at the moment, your nipples are quite easily seen.

Well, he’s certainly blunt... you think as you realize what his intentions are. The way he so carelessly stares at you, as if he knows you won’t be offended by his crude actions.

And why aren't you? Under any other circumstance, you would have slapped this perverse man across the face. But right now, you are blushing and you feel your heart speed up.

He looks up at your eyes with eyebrows raised expectantly, his head tilted, waiting for a response to his comment.

The way he stares at you with those eyes and that smirk- it’s intoxicating. You freeze and lose all ability to form words for a moment. You have to force yourself out of his stare, shaking your head and blinking away the high he just put you through.

But when you look down, everything in the entire mess had vanished. The glass, the wine stain on the floor, the tray, all of it was gone. All except the wine on your white shirt. Dumbfounded, you look around and then back up at the man, who is now standing.

“How... where did it-”

“Come now, you poor thing. We must get you cleaned up.” His tone was almost sarcastic. He holds his hand down and out to you.

Still in awe of the disappeared mess, you take his hand and stand up. You look back at the ground once more, trying to ensure you haven't gone crazy.

Against your better judgment, you allow the man to lead you by the hand through the party towards the other side of the room. He weaves his way seamlessly through the crowd. However, instead of leading you to the restrooms, he goes to the elevator.

“Wait w- where are we going... I have my job and-”

“Well come now, you can’t do your job looking like that...” he insists and presses a button on the elevator.

Gaining some of your willpower back now, you respond, “You know, there's a bathroom at the party, I really need to get back to my job...”

“Your job...” His tone is sultry. “Is to serve the guests, is it not?”

“Well, yes...” you feel your heart pounding as his next words fill your ears.

“Then you will most certainly be doing your job darling, no need to worry over that.”

You stutter, trying to process what he means. “Um...I-”

“Ah, here we are... this is my floor,” he speaks over you to drown out your hesitation. You both step out of the elevator, you walking much slower than him. You take in the sight of the empty lobby with apartments leading out of the walls.

He lives... in the Avenger’s tower? “Wait... who are-” You finally place the memory. You knew he looked familiar.

Loki watches as realization dawns on your face. His expression darkens. Without hesitation, he walks to you. It only takes him a couple of strides to be directly in front of you, staring down at you with those piercing eyes.

“I... am Loki...” His voice is almost aggressive now. You begin to shake as he takes your wrists in one hand and pins them against the now-closed elevator doors. They are cold against your skin and give you chills all over again. You also now realize just how tall he is, as he leans against your pinned wrists, towering over you.

“Prince of Asgard...” His voice is gravely and dark. He puts his other hand into your hair and roughly pulls back, forcing your head to face upward towards his.

“And you... weak mortal, are meant to serve me.”

Even if you had the ability to run at this point, to get far away from this man before he had his way with you... you knew you would reject the opportunity.

He watches your reaction for a moment, watching your eyes fill with fearful lust. Watching how your panting causes your wine-covered chest to rise and fall. With his eyes narrow, his mouth slightly open, he relishes in all the power he has over you at this moment.

Then, he takes his hands from your wrists and hair. They instead make their way to your chest, his cold fingers reach into your shirt between two of the buttons.

His fingers running along the soft skin of your chest creates a reaction in you far stronger then it should be, and you try to hold it in, closing your eyes.

In an instant, he shocks you out of the trance by ripping open the thin shirt. You hear several buttons fall to the floor, and he pulls it off of you completely. You are now exposed to him in your lacey bralette, which has also been stained from the wine.

He takes a moment to soak in the sight of you, but it isn't long. In an instant he grabs your hair and pulls to the side, forcing you to expose your bare neck.

“You see darling, a beautiful creature such as yourself would be wasted on mortal men...” He whispers into your ear. He then takes a moment to run his cold tongue from the base of your neck up to your ear, causing you to let out a small whimper.

“You are mine,” he growls into your ear. With a flick of his wrist, you find yourself completely naked in front of him. The sudden wave of air against your bare body is startling and your arms instinctively move to cover yourself.

Loki doesn’t even let you complete the movement as he takes each of your wrists in his hands once more, and re-pins you against the elevator. “And what do you think you’re doing pet? Trying to hide from me what is mine?” he hisses into your neck and bites at your supple skin.

You let out another whimper. “N- no... I- I was just-”

A hand forcefully cups over your mouth. It startles you, and you still whimper slightly.

Loki listens to your muffled noises coming from under his palm. His eyes are locked onto yours, and they are filled with lust. The tension between your bodies is so strong you swear you can physically feel it in your chest.

“You are my personal whore tonight. You are here to serve me, and you will deny me no part of you. Every inch of you belongs to me. Do you understand?”

Your eyes stayed locked on his, and you manage to nod with his hand still pressed against your lips.

His smile is lustful and sinister. “Good girl”

The hand drops from your mouth, you take in a sharp breath of air.

That’s when you feel his tongue. He is licking and kissing the sticky sweet wine from your skin, starting from your collar bone and working his way down your breast. His tongue is pleasurably cold, and soon his lips surround your sensitive nipple, nibbling and kissing until you whimper for him once more.

Without warning he backs up again, only to roughly command you.

“Now kneel.”

You obey his command as quickly as you can.

“Hmmm...” He let out a deep hum at the sight of you. “The first time you were like this for me we were surrounded by others. But now here we are...” He walks up to you and leans his hands on the elevator above you so that he is arched over your knelt body. “...completely alone.”

With that, he appears naked in front of you, causing you to jump. You hardly get a moment to take in the sight of him before he pushes himself into your agape mouth. You gag a bit at the size of him, then work to adjust to it as well as you can. He is far bigger than anyone you’ve ever taken before.

“Ahhhh...” He lets out a voice filled sigh, it’s almost a moan. Then he begins to move in you, making thrusts in and out of your mouth. His pace slowly quickens as you feel him pulsing in your mouth. He continues this until feel drool falling onto your chin and dripping onto your breasts.

In an instant, he surprises you by removing himself. You gasp in a full breath of air.

As quickly as he was gone, he is back inside you. Only this time, he pushes as far as he can into you and stops. He holds himself there and looks down at his mortal. You look up at him, locking your eyes with his, taking every inch of him in your mouth and throat. Loki rolls his eyes back at the sight of you.

He then surprises you again by stopping entirely, only to roughly grab your wrist and lead you down a hall and into a room. You stumble as you try to stand and keep up with him. When you arrive, it’s large and lavishly decorated, but you don’t get an opportunity to process it.

Loki practically throws you onto the bed in front of him.

“Open yourself to me,” he commands you.

You hesitate, nervous and naked in this stranger’s room.

His stare bores into you. “Are you daring to disobey me, pet?” The way he said things like this always baffled you. The words themselves were threatening, but his tone was purely quizzical. “To deny your King his pleasure? I do believe there would be heavy punishments for such defiance...”

“N-no... sir.”

His tone turns hard and gravely. “Then obey your King and spread your legs.”

You do as he says, and he takes in the sight of you. “Ah, what's this?” he said as he ran a finger through your wetness, bringing it to his mouth to taste it. “So wet for me, and yet we haven't even begun.”

You feel your breathing quicken again, and the feeling of such vulnerability in this position only leaves you more flustered.

“What a naughty girl you are...”

He lowers to kneel between your legs. His kisses and tongue are cold and soft. They line your thighs and all over your pelvis, anywhere but where you need him most. He continues this endlessly, never giving you the pleasure you desire. You begin to move your hips, trying desperately to get what you want.

“Loki... please...”

“You will receive pleasure when I believe you have earned it, pet. No sooner, and no later. If it happens to torture you, so be it.”

Now he was still and unmoving just above your wet, pulsing heat. His eyes lock onto yours once more. The look of him between your legs, staring into your eyes makes you even more desperate. You can feel his chilled breath against you, causing you to squirm. You begin to buck your hips once more, whimpering with need.

He backs his head away from your desperate thrusts, clicking his tongue three times. “I choose when you receive your pleasure darling. The harder you try, the longer this will take...”

His words cause you to whine with need, but you put all your effort into holding still. You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, trying to control yourself.

His mouth crashes into you. You let out a cry of pleasure as his silver tongue begins to work over every inch of you. It is as is there is no nerve left untouched. He nibbles at your most sensitive spot, before pushing a finger inside you.

“Oh Fuck...” You hear yourself moan.

He stops.

You groan at the sudden and entire removal of him. He pulls himself on top of you and nibbles at your ear before whispering into it, “If you are to make any sound, it shall be my name. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir...” you wine to him in response, just wanting him to continue.

“Good girl...” He returns to his place, his head between your legs once more. His tongue still moves over you like water, pleasuring one part of you before fluidly moving to the next. Back and forth, he keeps going like this until you are on the brink of a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Oh... L-Loki”

He continues his work on you just for a moment, before retreating once more. This earns him another groan from your lips.

“If I do grant you release, pet, it will be when you are taking every inch of me inside you...” His words are almost like growls at this point, as he positions himself at your entrance. He barely pushes into you, only to quickly back out as soon as you push closer to him.

A disappointed whine escapes your lips. “Loki...”

“Beg. Beg for me to fill you. Beg until your voice leaves you and I will take you with the strength a god can possess.”

His words light your insides on fire. All you want is him.

“Please. Please fuck me Loki. Please use me. Please take what is yours. I just want you to use me. Please.”

Your begging satisfies him, and with a single thrust, Loki is inside of you. You cry out his name as he thrusts in and out of you, faster than you thought possible. It feels unworldly, the way he slides in and out of you so perfectly, and how wet you are to receive him.

As Loki gets closer, you feel yourself coming to your edge. Loki grabs your hair and pulls your head back. “I can feel you tightening. Cum for me. Look at me and cum for your King,” he growls, never letting his piercing eyes leave yours.

His words are all you need.

‘LOKI!”

Your body is sent into a storm of pleasure, your body pulsing and shaking around his. He continues to push into you until your tightening around him sends Loki into his end as well. He unravels in front of you, his thrusts becoming less rhythmic and his eyes roll back. He is gasping as if he had been holding his breath.

Finally, he collapses on top of you. Both of you are sweating and panting.

After a moment, he rolls to the side, laying on his back next to you.

“Wow... that was amazing” you stammer. “But I really should get back to work now...”

Loki chuckles at your ignorance. “You truly are a naive mortal...” He rolls over to sit up and look at you once more. “...if you honestly think I am done with you.”

Thank you so much for reading! Again, this is my first one shot and I honestly don’t know if it’s any good. Please, Please, Please let me know if you like it!

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

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allthingsdarkanddirty · 1 year ago

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She's a fairy godmother in training... how hard could it be? With the Wand in the Library by Lia Davis, L.A. Boruff, and Lacey Carter is now available for preorder!Universal: https://geni.us/WithTheWand

"You have qualified for the Fairy Godmother Training Program. Please settle your affairs and press your thumb to the bottom right corner of this letter to be transported to our Training Academy."

Cindolyn Ault didn’t expect her life to be uprooted on her forty-second birthday. She’d expected a nice normal day, surrounded by her cats. If she was lucky, her daughter might drop in for a visit.

But that was it.

Instead of a feline-filled day in the sun, Cindolyn receives a letter that she believes to be a prank at first. Laughing her head off, Cindolyn touches the bottom right corner of the letter, and her world will never be the same.

Just when she thought it was time for baking cookies and hoping for grandchildren, Cindolyn finds herself enrolled in a training program for fairy godmothers in an academy for supernatural creatures. There are shifters and witches and vampires, oh my!

It’s a lot to take in, but Cindolyn can roll with the punches… Until a body is found in the library and Cindolyn is the main suspect. Now she’s got to use her new magical abilities to investigate a murder and clear her name before the Witch Hunters (who knew there was such a thing!) come to claim her. Godmother Training Academy is part of the Life After Magic world.#teaser #teasershare #comingsoon #preorder #bookpreorder #pwf #paranormalwomensfiction #paranormalcozy #paranormalmystery #paranormalfiction #withthewandinthelibrary #godmothertrainingacademy #lifeaftermagic #books #reading #matureheroine #midlifefiction #womensfiction #bookish #bookbuzz #booksbooksbooksAbout The Authors:

Lia Davis Lia Davis is the USA Today bestselling author of more than forty books, including her fan favorite Ashwood Falls Series. A lifelong fan of magic, mystery, romance and adventure, Lia's novels feature compassionate alpha heroes and strong leading ladies, plenty of heat, and happily-ever-afters

Lia makes her home in Northeast Florida where she battles hurricanes and humidity like one of her heroines. When she's not writing, she loves to spend time with her family, travel, read, enjoy nature, and spoil her kitties. She also loves to hear from her readers. Send her a note at [email protected]!L.A. Boruff LA (Lainie) Boruff lives in East Tennessee with her husband, three children, and an ever growing number of cats. She loves reading, watching TV, and procrastinating by browsing Facebook. LA’s passions include vampires, food, and listening to heavy metal music. She once won a Harry Potter trivia contest based on the books and lost one based on the movies. She has two bands on her bucket list that she still hasn’t seen: AC/DC and Alice Cooper. Feel free to send tickets

Lacey Carter

Lacey Carter writes paranormal women’s fiction and cozy mysteries with humor, adventure, and a little romance. Her stories are sure to make you smile, laugh, and maybe even cry. But don’t worry, she’s always sure to give her readers a happy ending for her brave heroes and heroines.

As a USA Today bestselling author, Lacey is always working on another story. She thrives off of the adventure both in her books and outside of them, while raising her three beautiful children, with her amazing husband. She also writes steamy romances under the name Lacey Carter Andersen.

So if you’re looking for fun and adventure, dive into one of her worlds today!

Find Them On The Web! Lia - https://authorliadavis.com L.A. - https://laboruff.com Lacey - https://laceycarterandersen.net

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inclineto · 5 years ago

Text

So various, so beautiful

(1700 words, which are mostly introductions)

“No other captain will sail with her,” the Chamberlain had said, “but I am certain you will be obliging.” And so the sorceress came aboard her own Cygnet without ceremony, passenger and baggage swung up so quickly that the pilot’s cutter was pulling rapidly away before Elisabeth had set her pen aside and gone above to welcome her.

The sorceress was shaking out her crumpled skirts on the main deck, surrounded by chests and boxes and a canary fluttering in its wicker cage. The crew watched her warily from a distance of several paces, while they pretended instead to pay close attention to nearby ropes or the direction of the wind or the ship’s cat perched on the rail or any of half a dozen other unnecessary occupations.

“It cheers me to hear him,” she said, seeing Elisabeth’s wary look at the bird. “Did you think I meant to enchant - oh, goodness, no! I only cast my spells on the willing.” She beamed, a roundly bird-like creature herself: brown-haired, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked as a china shepherdess. “We’ll share your quarters, I presume? I wouldn’t wish to turn you out of your own bed.”

Elisabeth had agreed to be enchanted, but she refused to be charmed: not by the sorceress’s smile, nor the well-turned ankles she’d revealed in setting her clothes to rights. She took up the birdcage and offered her arm. “This way please, my lady.”

“Margaret, please,” she said, giving Elisabeth’s elbow a confiding squeeze. “Or Peggy, if we’re friends.”

“Madam,” Elisabeth said, and led her into the cabin.

The canary’s name was Ambrose.

Throughout the afternoon the sorceress chattered and bustled around the great room, supervising the delivery of her trunks and the arrangement of a second bed, draping a piece of grey silk over the pier glass, whistling - Elisabeth winced - to Ambrose perched on her fingertip. Elisabeth looked over her charts and ignored her. With the fleet away south beyond recall, the eastern coast was vulnerable. If she were in command, she’d harry the fishing villages and set her forces to gain a foothold against the defenses at Heston on Marenwash and the open roads to the west.

Settling at last with teacup in hand the sorceress turned her attention to Elisabeth and stared at her without speaking until she lost her patience and stared rudely back.

“Let me see if I have you to rights,” the sorceress said. “Elisabeth Katharine Lukasdottir, merchant’s child, a respectable family, not politically connected, careful with their funds and their ships. At sea since you were eight and captain on your own merits by twenty-two. Noticed by the government after your work in the western islands, your reputation secured by six raids against shipping out of the port at Colward. Feted around the dockyards for your skill and your bonny brown eyes, and now commissioned to be at my service, but you don’t play the gallant, do you?” She looked serious, the flirtatious pose set aside.

“Madam, was it required,” Elisabeth said. Twilight had fallen, only dim light shining in from the gallery windows. The canary was asleep.

“No, only, it might help if I could like you just a little. As you might like me.”

Elisabeth thought of the other captains who would have been asked before the council turned to her: Lacey, red-nosed with drink. Hasse, striking a boy, off-duty, for dozing in his sight. Arnaud, pleasant enough, devoted to his wife. What she could see of the sorceress’s - Margaret’s - expression seemed pleading. She nodded. “I don’t...dislike you,” she said.

Margaret smiled, more gently. “It will have to do,” she said, and set aside her cup, locked the door and came back to stand behind Elisabeth, resting her hands on her shoulders.“You’ve been at your charts for hours. Are you resolute? Do you understand what I will ask of you when you work this spell with me?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Elisabeth said. She was not ready, but she was prepared, and since she had agreed for love and duty she could give no other answer.

“Then let us begin. Close your eyes, and think of a barrier, anchored all along the coast, letting us pass through but keeping out anyone who ought not to pass it,” Margaret said, and in her mind’s eye Elisabeth saw all the ocean - cape to harbor to rivermouth, all the cliffs and currents of the country pulled from her memory. As she pictured each anchorage, it began to glow as if a shining net had been cast over it, and Elisabeth felt a strange tugging at her heart, as if the line played out of her own breast. “Good. Oh, that’s just marvelous, you’ll do my work for me. On maps the coast is fixed, but for you it breathes, doesn’t it? Elisabeth. Breathe.”

Margaret’s voice was urgent, no longer the dreamy wandering murmur Elisabeth had been chasing. Elisabeth gasped, choked, and the glimmering scene vanished. The blood roared in her ears as she dropped her head between her knees, shivering when Margaret put one cool hand to the back of her neck and rubbed her fingertips gently through the base of her sweat-soaked braid.

After a time Margaret spoke. “Do you often forget yourself during this sort of work?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried - I’m sorry,” Elisabeth said. She lifted her head tentatively, and then sat up, Margaret’s hand still resting comfortingly on the clammy linen between her shoulder blades.

“Oh, darling, don’t be. I ought to have realized - if you’d been practiced at it, I’d never have allowed myself to miss a mind like yours. Tell me, what did they promise you for this service?”

“Any prize I wished to pursue,” Elisabeth said hoarsely, staring into the darkness. “That any door he knocked at would be opened for my brother. That I could endure it.”

Margaret stooped beside her with a rustle of lavender-scented skirts, arm thrown around her shoulders in a bracingly friendly embrace. “You shall have it, and he shall have it, and I promise you, you can do much more than endure.” Her breath on Elisabeth’s ear made her shiver again, and Elisabeth thought that she could easily turn into Margaret’s touch in the darkness, catch the words as they escaped her lips -

“Let’s have a bit more light, shall we?”

“Mind sparks,” Elisabeth said automatically, only to blink as Margaret blew a kiss toward the lamp and it flared to life. The canary woke and chirped. “Convenient, don’t you think?” said Margaret. “Now, look at the flame. I shall pull the hassock up here just beside you, where I can see your face. Look at the flame, and feel my hand on yours, and breathe.”

The lamp swayed gently back and forth on its brass chains. Elisabeth watched its path, and thought about turning over her hand to clasp Margaret’s. She wore no rings - no jewelry at all, that Elisabeth had seen, even the combs in her hair plain horn. Everything had grown quiet around them, as if they were aboard a phantom and not a working ship at all, and Elisabeth felt as though given the slightest urging she could fly up from her seat, up and aloft to look out from the highest masthead at the ever-changing sea. “That’s lovely,” Margaret said, “You’re lovely - such things I could teach you.”

Elisabeth made a small noise in her throat, and let the muscles of her shoulders relax.

“Oh, you enjoy a compliment; that’s three more things I know about you, then,” Margaret said.

“Only one,” Elisabeth said. The chair’s carved wing supported her head so securely, now that she had let her weight fall back against it, and Margaret’s hand was soft and sure on her own. “Tch. Three. First, you are lovely, darling; don’t contradict.” Elisabeth felt her lips twitch. “And you like it when I tell you so. And third, you know the shape of these shores better than anyone else they could have sent me. Would you like to try again?” And at Elisabeth’s nod, she said, “Good. Close your eyes, and this time think of the harbor we’re in now-”

“It’s Clearhaven Bay,” Elisabeth said.

“-the bay we’re in now, and then slowly pull your mind away, as if we were sailing north down the coast-”

“Up.”

“-up the coast, then, and you’ve sailed by every league of it, haven’t you? Don’t do anything more, just lead us along and show me the land as we go by.” Elisabeth imagined how the Cygnet would slip out with the tide, rounding the headland and carrying them along past the furzy bluffs spooling away to larboard, while she listened for the distant ringing of church bells and watched for the girls who sometimes ran down to the shore to wave their scarves to passing ships. Distantly, she thought she heard Margaret laugh to see them.

“That’s enough for tonight,” Margaret said at last.

Nothing had glowed in her vision or tugged at her breath, but she found when she opened her eyes that her head spun and her sight was fuzzy with exhaustion. “Did it work?” she asked, almost beyond caring, save that Margaret would be disappointed if they were forced to make a third attempt.

“Beautifully. Everything from here north to Leaftonness, secure as houses. I’ll show you tomorrow. Now. Sip of wine, glass of water, boots off, and into bed with you,” she said briskly, turning down the blankets as she spoke, and pulling at Elisabeth’s boots herself when her fingers proved too clumsy. Elisabeth watched dreamily as she slipped out of her bodice and pulled the combs from her hair, realizing that Margaret intended to ignore her own bed only when she turned down the lamp and shouldered in beside her with a few soft jabs of her elbows. “Shift over,” she ordered, “with all I’ve heard about sailors, I’d have thought you’d do better at two to a bunk.”

“Not so many clothes, usually,” Elisabeth mumbled, but she obediently gathered Margaret closer, right arm light around her waist, heads side by side on the pillow. “Smells nice, though.”

“Stop talking, darling,” Peggy said. “You’ll make yourself blush in the morning.”

#writing: bits and pieces #when in doubt add magic #plot is for other people #and then. and then i don't even know. and then they kiss!#queer theories #her noblest work she classes o

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